New York, G, 1935-1951, Undated

“I don’t understand!” she replied, sick
at heart. “Why do you talk like that to me,
Otto?”

“Tl tell you what I mean,” he said.
“My name is not Otto Mueller and I am
not your husband. I am married to an-
other woman and have two children by
her. I married you because I became
infatuated with you, but now I find that
even if you are a beautiful woman you
are no different from the homely ones.
Besides, you have ruined our future by
your carelessness!”

Anna Luther, her life crushed and
shapeless and trampled into pieces under
the lashing words of this man she loved,
slid off the oak stump to the ground where
she lay, sobbing.

Then the hand of Frederick Gebhardt
slid into his coat and when it came forth
it held the revolver with the chambers
full of dum-dum bullets, which could
tear out the back of the skull.

M@ HE RAISED the gun and pointed it but

quickly dropped it when underbrush
near by gave out a sudden crackling. He
placed the gun in his outside coat pocket
and looked cautiously in the direction
of the noise No... it was only his im-
agination playing tricks on him, no one
was there.

Then Anna Luther looked up at him,
slowly crawled to him, placed her arms
about his knees.

“Oh, Otto, I still know that you...
I still love you.... Otto... darling...”

For answer he snatched the revolver
out of his pocket, pointed it full into the
pleading face and pulled the trigger

The report sounded so loud in the si-
lence of that deep wood that it frightened
the man more than the immediate con-
sciousness of his brutality. But, fasci-
nated by what he had done, he stared as
the smoke of the black powder lifted. . ..

Then he ran a few yards and stopped
and looked back.

The woman’s body was invisible. It

was only twenty yards back there, yet she

was quite concealed by the thickness of
the underbrush.

Well, that was good.

Now, to get away.

When he came to the woods road, he
skirted its edge so that no one would see
him walking upon it.

When he reached the main road, which
led to the station, he kept his head down
and his hat brim over his eyes.

He saw a sign which indicated that he
was in the township of Islip. That was
good, he thought. The stationmaster at
Bayshore, then, would not recognize him
as the man who had got off the noonday
train.

He reached the Islip station at quarter
to six o’clock.

William Peacock, the stationmaster, was
just closing up.

“There are no more trains tonight for
New York,” he explained. “The last one
left at five: twenty-three.”

“But how can I get out of this town?”
Gebhardt demanded.

“You can get a train at Babylon, seven
miles away,” said Peacock. “The flounder
fishermen are there in droves and they
run plenty of trains to New York.”

“But how can I get there? I have. no
bicycle,” said Gebhardt, desperately.

“You can hire a horse and buggy over
at the livery stable for a dollar or so,”
suggested Peacock, pointing to the place
before he walked away, leaving Gebhardt
standing. :

Gebhardt went to the stable, hired the
liveryman and was driven to Babylon.

On the station at that busy fishing town
he was quickly lost in the crowds that,
with fish baskets and long rods, waited for
the New York bound train. After an

80

eternity of waiting, the train finally
arrived.

Gebhardt did not reach home until past
ten o’clock.

And his supper was ready and waiting!

With the hand that had pulled the trig-
ger in the woods at Islip he patted the
devoted woman’s cheek.

“You are a good wife,” he said tenderly,

He felt safe now.

And after all, he had been justified in
what he had done, he told himself. Now,
if he’d stay at home, and keep away from
Newark, he’d never be discovered, even
when they found the body.

But when would they find the body?

They didn’t find it the day after, nor
the day after that! And, on the third
day, a strange uneasiness assailed him, His
friends in. Newark only knew him as
Otto Mueller; even though Gottlieb
Schweikert suspected him. But even
Schweikert did not know his real name
nor where he lived.

But if they found the body, what about
identification?

Then he remembered the horror he
had felt when he had last seen her face
there in the wood. It made him shudder.

And that night he had a strange halluci-
nation. He seemed to be awake, yet a
child again, in the schoolroom in_ his
native Germany. But the classroom was
filled with water and he was drowning
and the only escape was through a win-
dow and that was shut by a huge book.
He pounded his boyish fist against the
book but it would not open.

“What is the matter? Who is holding
this book shut?” he shouted wildly,

M@ THEN A gentle voice, the voice of Anna
Luther replied, “Here, I will open it for
you. Read what it says, Otto darling. See,
it is called ‘The Dream of Eugene Aram.’ ”
And as the book opened he read in fiery
letters:

With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up and ran;

There was no time to dig a grave
Before the day began—

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,
I hid the murdered man! .

And how the sprites of injured men
Shriek upward from the sod;

Ay, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;

And unknown facts of guilty acts
Are seen in dreams from God.

Gebhardt tried to get past the book
but the covers suddenly closed upon him
and he felt himself being choked. Then
the dream faded and he woke up, in a
cold sweat.

Could he ever forget this awful night-
mare?

The voice of Anna Luther!

He lay there in bed thinking, thinking,
deeply depressed. Slowly, bit by bit, he
remembered that when a schoolboy he had
studied the poem by Hood which told
of the schoolmaster who committed mur-
der and tried vainly to cover the body
in a deep wood. He had cast the body
in a stream, but the:stream dried up. He
had buried it under a pile of leaves, but
the wind came and blew them away.

Gebhardt, when he had become calmer,
reasoned out that the visitation was a
warning to him to bury the body.

The next day he went to a hardware
store and purchased a grubhoe. He had
it wrapped carefully, so that its nature was
not disclosed. He went to the Long Is-
land Railroad and boarded a train for
Bayshore.

It was the thirteenth of April.

Arriving at Bayshore, Gebhardt had no
difficulty in retracing his steps to the
point where he had turned to the right
off the beaten path.

ae a

PIC, eT ee aN eT

Cautiously he looked about him but
could see no sign of anyone. A rabbit
startled him by getting up in the brush
and a noisy blue-jay screamed its warn-
ing to the furred and feathered creatures
within hearing. A squirrel, too, chattered
at him from safe retreat upon the distant
branch far above his head.

Gebhardt, his grubhoe upon his shoul-
der, plunged boldly through the under-
brush until he saw the smooth top of the
stump at the base of which he had left
Anna,

He stopped. and looked to catch a sight
of white, as he knew she lay with her
feet toward where he stood so that her
white petticoat should be visible.

But he could not see anything!

He moved nearer.

Still, there was nothing showing.

He stepped forward, at a quick pace,
determined to face it at once before he
covered it forever from his sight.

But when he reached the spot where he
had left his victim he stared and stared
at emptiness and a huge dark stain upon
the green mold. :

Just that—a dark stain and nothing
more!

The body of Anna Luther was nowhere
in sight.

What had happened?

Had the body been found and removed
by the police?

If it had, the newspapers would have
been full of it and he had watched the
New York American every day and had
found no mention of the body’s discovery.

He sat down on the oak stump and
wiped his sweaty brow and tried to fig-
ure it out.

There was, after all, only one answer
to it.

This corpse in the deep wood had risen
and walked, even as soldiers sometimes on
the field of battle have been known to
walk for yards with a bullet through the
brain.

He got off the stump and began search-
ing, walking in an ever widening circle.
Surely, the woman could not have walked
very far with a soft-nosed bullet in her
head. He’d find her. Eventually. He
knew he hadn’t missed. That face again!
He closed his eyes, pressed his hand to
his forehead, then walked on.

He spent the entire afternoon at the
task but his search was unavailing.

M@ AND AS he searched, the specter grew

in his brain—the sad face, the appeal-
ing, accusing eyes, the two trembling
hands clutching at his knees.

He hid the grubhoe in the underbrush
which grew near twin birch trees and
hurried home.

But still he felt near him a presence,
a Nemesis. He was so’ jittery on the
train to New York City that he almost
jumped out of his car seat when an angler,
who wanted a match, tapped him on the
shoulder. -

Several days passed—and nights. The
days were easy but the nights—it seemed
that he was doomed never to have rest-
ful sleep again. :

On the evening of April 18th he wrote
to Henry Werpupp:

“My wife is very sick and I’m going
to take her to Florida. This will explain
why you won’t see us for some time.”

He smiled grimly as he mailed it.

Once a week, during the remainder of
April, and the entire month of May, he
visited those woods. But neither body
nor trail could he find of his victim.

Karly in June, Gebhardt got an idea
which filled him with a deep sense of
satisfaction. He went to the spot where
he had shot Anna Luther, Although the
woods were green, the floor of the forest
was dry and broken twigs and branches,

TRUE DETECTIVE

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APRIL


.

ij
BE em 7 | —
n but cut down during the winter, snapped and
rabbit cracked under foot. L F A R N
| brush * He stooped down, scraped up a batch .
warn- of leaves and set fire to them.
atures He hurried away to a point near by
ttered and started another blaze. ;
listant Altogether, he made a half-dozen fires
before he took to the woods road which
shoul- led to the highway. ° i
inder- As he left the woods he could see smoke 6 i h '
of ats maine. ~ IA. weeKS a ome
id left A half-hour later he heard the clang Hi
of the hammer against the big iron hoop . *
: sight as the local firefighters were being called Win a good job, promotion, higher pay. Have the confidence
th her to check the sweep of the wood fire. that comes with ability to write notes fast and accurately.
at her i" Then ae thought, with - — nm his Fine for executives, too, students and others who need to make
eart, that it was a stupid thing to have notes rapidl d tead thém:-readily,
done because, with the floor of the forest PIsty ae ks aaily
burned away, it would be easier to sight i
ig. the body. ia a
© pace, But the flames did their work so well —%
ore he that they spread over a wide area, keeping ad
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SCTIVE APRIL, 1942 81


%

was too late then. Dick was dying. Al
made me promise I wouldn’t tell on him,
threatening to kill me if I did. I left and
I haven’t seen him since. The other stories
I have told were to throw the cops off the
trail. I’m sorry if I caused them any
trouble, but that’s the way it was.”

Sharp had named a well-known young
man of Lexington as Mutran’s slayer.
Maupin lost no time in telephoning Lex-
ington and having this man picked up.

When the officers told him Sharp had
accused him of the slaying, he said, “Why,
that’s absurd. I had nothing -to do with it.
I’ve never even met Mutran or his wife
in my life. I wouldn’t know Mrs. Mutran
if I met her on the street. The whole
thing is a deliberate lie. I know Sharp
when I see him, but I have never been
closely associated with him. I should like
to hear him accuse me face to face.”

This request was easily arranged.
Maupin asked the officers to bring Hoyt
to Louisville.

M@ BY PRE-ARRANGEMENT, the accused

man was brought into the room where
Sharp and Blue were still talking. Also
by pre-arrangement, Hoyt had been in-
structed to say nothing when he saw
Sharp, and to wait for Sharp to make the
first remark.

Sharp’s face paled momentarily when he
saw Hoyt, but he said nothing.

Hoyt turned and walked out with the
officers. ‘

“All right,” Blue said, when they had
gone, ‘‘we’ve brought your man in. Now
tell me some more about him.”

Sharp went on to relate how Hoyt had
been hanging around the Mutran home
even after Mutran had ordered him to
stay away.

In room 601 Hoyt was listening to
Sharp’s accusations.

Later when Hoyt walked into the room
where Sharp was still accusing him, Blue
asked Sharp if Hoyt was the man who
had killed Mutran. '

Sharp eyed Hoyt closely. “No,” he said,
“you've got the wrong man. Either that,
or I’ve made a mistake. This is not the
man.”

The officers exchanged puzzled glances.

“We'd all better go back to Lexington,”
Maupin said, “and get this whole thing
straightened out.”

The journey to Lexington was made in
silence. Commonwealth Attorney James
Parks, at Maupin’s request, met the party
at the police station.

Parks and Sharp went into an ante
room and Parks:asked Sharp if he would
answer some questions.

Sharp was sullen. “I don’t want to talk
to anybody but Maupin,” he said. “Tell
him I want to see him.”

He was taken to Maupin’s office, looking
glum.

“They tell me you wanted to see me,”
Sergeant Maupin said. ‘“What’s on your
mind?”

“Well, Mr. Maupin,” Sharp said, “I
don’t know where to start, or how. I want
to tell you the whole story.”

“Shall we call in a stenographer and
some witnesses?” Maupin asked.

“That’s okay by me.”

After a stenographer and several wit-
nesses were present, Sharp stated that the
story he had told about Mrs. Mutran being
friendly with Al Hoyt was a deliberate
falsehood, and that he had made it up at
the last minute with some hope of saving
his own hide. “Mrs, Mutran is a fine
woman,” he said, “and loved Dick. She
wouldn’t do anything like that. I’m sorry
I said that.”

He then said that after having the soft
drinks, Mutran was making out a bill for
some gas a customer had charged, and that
he made a remark uncomplimentary to
Sharp’s wife. “I struck him, then he hit
me. We had a regular scuffle about the
place. I pushed him back and then I saw
him coming toward me. I grabbed a ham-
mer and hit him. I don’t remember any-
thing. I must have got out of there and
gone home right away.”

Sharp denied he had committed the
deed with a motive of robbery. He de-
clared he struck his victim but once with
the hammer. An autopsy had shown that
Mutran had been literally beaten into a
pulp with several blows of the hammer.
The loose change scattered on the floor of
the service station seemed to indicate that
a robbery had been committed.

Sharp denied that his avid reading of
fiction murder stories had had anything
to do with the slaying of Mutran and the
fake kidnaping, but the officers who
worked on the case believed it had. There
was too much similarity between the kid-
naping in “Murder Out of Tune” and his
own story.

On April 26th, 1938, Sharp was tried in
the Fayette Circuit Court and was found
guilty of murder. He was sentenced to
life imprisonment.

But he was not yet through scheming.

In the reformatory at LaGrange, Ken-
tucky, he persuaded a fellow inmate that
he possessed both potential riches and
political pull. He told the man that if he
would confess to the Mutran killing, there-
by releasing Sharp, he would pay him
part of the $10,000 he expected to collect
from individuals of the Lexington Police
Department for false arrest, and in addi-
tion would get the man a parole. He said
he had a suit pending against those who
had caused him to be sent to prison and
that a confession clearing him of the crime
would clinch the verdict. .The man to
whom he made this proposition agreed
and for days Sharp rehearsed him as to
the manner of the crime, and other details.

The duped prisoner “confessed” to the
warden and the Lexington officers began
checking his story. On an order signed
by Governor Chandler they brought him
back to Lexington, but his story did not
ring true. It was full of flaws.

Finally the convict saw that he had
failed and said, “All right, the deal’s off.
It’s Howard Sharp’s fault for not coach-
ing me more thoroughly. We practised so
much that I thought I was letter perfect.”
He then told how Sharp had propositioned
him, with his scheme to beat the law.

Several attempts have been made by
attorneys for Sharp to have the other con-
vict indicted on a murder charge, but all
have failed. The last attempt was on
June 26th, 1941, when a Grand Jury in
Fayette County, Kentucky, refused to vote
a true bill.

NotE—The names Al Hoyt, Martie and
Carlos Moore are fictitious, to protect inno-

cent persons in no way connected with the .

crime.—EpiTor.

The Dream of Frederick Gebhardt

(Continued from page 59) eyes as he
faced Anna Luther again in the home
of the Werpupps.

“You’ve got to come out with me right
away!” he said. “We must get right to
work on our home.”

His words stirred the woman’s very
heart, beneath which another life now
had nestled, and she did not see the
danger signals in his eyes and did not
notice the bulge under .the left shoulder
of his coat.

He took her to Jamaica, Long Island,
where they put up for the night in a
hotel. ;

“Tomorrow we will go to Bayshore and
look at my property where we will build
our house,” he said, as he turned off the
gas light. :

In the forenoon, after breakfast, they
took the Long Island Railroad train to
Bayshore.

Spring comes a fortnight early in Suf-
folk County on Long Island and the spring
of 1908 was no exception. Everything
was in full bloom. Forsythia gave forth
its golden promise of rich days of summer
ahead, the pink and white of the flower-
ing almond studded green lawns of homes
they passed and in the woods white and
pink dogwood were in full bloom.

APRIL, 1942

How beautiful Anna Luther looked that
day with the fullness of growing maternity
pushing the color into her cheeks, and
her face aglow with that inexplicable light
which blooms in the eyes of the expectant,
happy mother.

She wore a fawn-colored suit of ex-
pensive broadcloth, tailor made, with an
Eton jacket, which showed the richly
embroidered pleated black silk waist. The
fawn-colored picture hat had draped from
it a tan colored chiffon veil which hung
just halfway down her face, so that when
she smiled the whiteness of her teeth con-
trasted with its color.

She wore long black lisle stockings and
high-top buttoned black shoes, after the
best style of the day.

The few who passed them as they
walked along to see the site of their new
home were impressed with the beauty
of the woman and the strength which the
broad shoulders of the man so plainly
advertised.

They reached the lots which Gebhardt
owned on the outskirts of the town and
sat down together discussing plans.
Where they sat a little brook murmured
past them and violets with long stems,
and white anemones, also, carpeted the
lush banks.

“Let’s take a walk deep in the woods!”
suggested Gebhardt. “It’s such a perfect
day for a walk.”

They found a woods road and followed
it and after they had penetrated for a
half-mile Gebhardt suggested that they
turn tq the deep undergrowth.

“We may find some Jacks-in-the-pul-
pit,” he said. “I’m very fond of them!”

™@ THEN ANNA LUTHER suddenly felt

faint and half fell against an oak stump
which a lumberman’s two-man saw had
cut quite clean. She drew herself up on
its smooth surface and loosened the collar
of her dress.

“I don’t feel well,” she said.

Gebhardt flew into a rage. This was
the one subject he did not want to talk
about. The very mention of that coming
event enraged him.

“Leave that out of it!” he said, in a low
voice, but in a tone that was bristling
with menace. “Can’t we even take a walk
without your reminding me of what a
careless and indifferent wife you are?”

She paled. “Otto! How could you say
that?”

“Don’t call me Otto! It isn’t my name!”
he retorted, his fingers moving convulsive-
ly, his anger rising. '

79

~


SE Ch enh AIT SE Soe AEB

for home, for Gebhardt didn’t want to
meet any of the Newark crowd who fre-
quently visited Coney Island.

On the second trip, made in mid-Sep-
tember, after they had lunched in their
‘peer garden, they started for the train
terminal at West 8th Street and Surf
Avenue. On the way Mrs. Gebhardt in-
sisted that he take the children into
Dreamland Park to see Captain Jack
Bonavita and his trained lions.

“But we won't stay long,” Gebhardt
said. “I don’t want to wait until the trains
are too crowded.”

He paid their admission and later they
enjoyed the famous trainer of the day
in his daring stunts with the beasts Cap-
tain Jack risked his life to save two years
later when fire burned six of them to
death in their cages and the axe of a
fireman destroyed Sultan, youngest and
most beautiful: of them all, after he es-
caped from the inferno of flames and,
blinded, sought cover in the scenic rail-
way across Surf Avenue.

m AS THEY emerged from Dreamland

Park, a woman in a bathing suit passed
them and the heart of Gebhardt leaped
into his throat. He turned and stared after
her.

“Do you know that girl?” asked his
wife, who saw his interest in the stranger.

He turned and stared at Mrs. Gebhardt
before he answered.

“No, I guess not. But she reminds me
of someone I once knew.”

Mrs. Gebhardt smiled, a bit triumphant-
ly, as she said, “Come, Frederick! Those
women of your past are gone, I hope,
forever. You’ve been a good boy lately.
Now, don’t be trying to make love to
every pretty woman you see. After all,
your hair is getting gray and you have
got crow’s-feet in your face.”

Then Gebhardt did a strange thing. He
patted his wife affectionately on her
cheek and said, “You're right. It is
foolish, after all, when I have my own
dear wife.” ’

“Oh, Frederick, it makes me so happy
to hear you say that!”

But the woman on Surf Avenue staved
‘in his thoughts and when he was in bed
that night the old hallucinations recurred,
the oft repeated visitation to the school-
room, with the book refusing to open for
escape and the rising water drowning
him. He cried out in his sleep and awak-
ened his wife.

“lve had that strange dream again,”
he said.

“The one about the schoolroom and
the water?”

“Yes.”

“Probably it was all the water you saw
in the ocean today that made you dream
it,’ she said, comforting him and resting
her head upon his broad chest.

But for days the thought of what he
had left in those woods eighteen months
before haunted him and again he felt that
urge to revisit the scene of his crime.
He tried to fight it off but it possessed

him like a fiend incarnate and on Sun-.

day, October the 3rd, 1909, Gebhardt went
again to the deep woods of Islip.

It was two years, almost to the day,
when he had first met the beautiful Anna
Luther. Yet, when he stood again be-
fore the murder spot, it was as yesterday,
and again he heard her plea for life
which he had silenced with the blast of
the revolver.

Gebhardt got down on his knees there,
as if it were an altar, and sobs shook his
shoulders and tears were on his seamed
and worn cheeks. Presently, he raised
his face and looked up through the golden
glory of that autumnal day. He wanted
to pray but he could not; he dared not
pray for mercy here on this spot where

82

he had shown none. He mumbled audibly:

“IT never meant to do it, Anna! It was
just that I began to love my children
and did not want to lose them. That was
it!”

He felt better now, almost purged of
that which was on his conscience. There
was a change, too, in his face. Even his
wife noticed it, at home that evening.

“You should walk in the woods oftener,
Frederick. I am sure it does you good.”

He mumbled something softly under
his breath which she did not hear.

Two weeks later, Sunday, October 17th,
1909, Joseph Schmidt, a woodcutter of
Islip, entered the woods near the Islip
line, from off the highway between Islip
and Brentwood. He carried his axe and
his five-year-old boy, Joseph junior, was
with him. They were more than a mile
distant from the spot where Gebhardt
had struck down the pleading Anna
Luther.

Schmidt, his shining axe biting huge

TO NEWSPAPERMEN,
POLICE OFFICIALS
AND DETECTIVES

—if you have in mind any fact case,
with actual photographs, deemed
suitable for publication in this mag-
azine, please address the Editor,
TRUE DETECTIVE, Bartholomew
Building, 205 East 42nd Street, New
York, and ask for our “Letter of
Suggestions,” covering full informa-

‘tion relative to writing the accounts

of fact crime cases for this magazine.

chips from a white oak, left his little boy
to play about in the leaves where there
were hickory nuts to gather and squirrels
to spy upon. Then he heard the boy
scream and, in a moment, the lad, his
face terror-stricken, threw himself into
his father’s arms.

“The bogey man! The bogey man!”
the boy sobbed. “See! He is behind the
maple tree!”

The woodman, axe in hand, his boy
following timidly, walked to the tree and
looked. '

Grinning up at him were the bleached

“ pones of a human skull.

In the leaves he could see the skeleton
with fragments of clothing upon it. He
motioned to his boy to keep away. He
bent down. He saw that there remained
the remnants of a woman’s coat and dress
and even underclothing.

Schmidt, spread the alarm.

And Gebhardt, reading his morning
paper of October 18th, saw that which
he had been dreading so long, the grim
working out of the old superstition that
the woods always gives up its slain.

He read, also, a sentence in the news-
paper that caused him to grow cold all
over, to live again the horrors of those
days immediately after his deed.

When the skeleton was raised, under the
supervision of Coroner William B. Savage
of Suffolk County, a soft-nosed bullet fell
from the skull

So. ‘This dum-dum bullet had merely
made a fatal wound by cutting the ex-
terior carotid artery.

And Anna Luther, blinded, had walked
a mile through those woods, until death
had mercifully ended her suffering.

The police of Suffolk, unable to cope
with the mystery with their limited re-
sources, called on the police of Brooklyn,
New York, to help. Will Roddy, ace of
the Broeklyn detectives, who, with his
closely cropped little black mustache and
his stolid face, looked more like a floor
walker in a department store than a great
detective, and Thomas Murray, smooth-
faced Irish houn’ dog of the police, were
wr eashed for the trail by Acting Cap-
tain John B. Coughlin of the Brookiyn
Central Office.

Roddy and Murray joined up at Islip
with District Attorney George H. Fur-
man of Suffolk County.

Gebhardt read all this and smiled, in
a sense of security.

What could any detective do to identify
this skeleton?

And, if they did, well, the way he fig-
ured it out, the worst they could accom-
plish would be an arrest for bigamy.

He bought every edition of every news-
paper from New York City. With a start
he saw that his favorite newspaper had
taken the lead in featuring the mystery.

Among the bones they found a_neck-
lace of gold with a heart shaped locket,
which had no picture in it, and on the
left wrist bones a gold bracelet, with a
drop pearl. ‘

In examining the teeth they found a
possible clue. In the lower left jaw they
discovered a supernumerary, a_ tooth
which had grown outside the perfect row.
There were two gold fillings in upper
molars and one gold crown on a lower
bicuspid. ‘

Photographs of the jewelry and a de-
scription of the broadcloth coat which
had been partially burned were widely
published in the newspapers.

Not much to go ahead on. But on Mon-
day a newspaper reporter, at the scene
of the discovery, picked up a watch. It
had stopped at 12:30. The initials “A. L.”
and the date “1893” were inscribed in
the case.

@ “THIS WATCH was made in Germany,”

said Detective Roddy, looking inside the
case. ‘The initials ‘A. R.’ instead of
‘F, S” are those of the German words,
fast and slow,”

Examination of the remnants of cloth-
ing found on the body, which had not
been destroyed by the fire started by
Gebhardt, disclosed the richness of the
material. It was while he was handling
the shreds of the coat that Will Roddy
made a discovery—a fragment of a bill
of sale in what was left of the pocket.

In those days the microscope and the
magnifying glass were the only means
the criminologists had of deciphering al-
most illegible writings.

Roddy, studying the faded ink marks on
the bill of sale, finally spelt out the name
“Otto Schomm, Altona.”

It wasn’t much to go by but Roddy
made the most of it.

He went directly to the German Con-
sulate in New York City and laid the mat-
ter before a Vice-Consul. The German
gave the matter instant attention and
within an hour he located Otto Schommer,
the household goods merchant of Altona.
Schleswig-Holstein. He cabled Herr
Schommer asking if he had made a sale
within the past five years to anyone whose
initials were A. L. and who, of his knowl-
edge, had emigrated to the United States

Several days later Herr Schommer
cabled:

TRUE DETECTIVE

On Feb:
Anna taut
plate,

Rod
trail ews
mer kne:
Luther.

In a fe

Adolf V
Altona, [
Otto Muc
United St
Sixth Str:

The acd
cation of
newspap¢
The tele;
Headqua:
23rd anc
Roddy.

It was

B@ “WE!
Schwe
Anna L
you're h:
see him?
Roddy
and wit!
to the hi
“That
Schweik
pictured
heard f)
Henry \
year say
they we
“Stop
up his }
say ‘He:
“Yes.
“Take
Roddy. °
some rez
The Vi
time of t’
as they >
After
Wernm™
“]
he
Isla
help me.
a picture
“Yes, \
took it «
Coney Is
used to :
She }
“Muelle:
Roddy
detective
neither t
local po
Mueller.
Roddy.
tona that
York in
Lincoln,
compan)

_obtained

“Sixt
dogs.”
Roddy
ultation.
He hu
turned o
“Sure.
had the
trunks. |
The r
were de!
hardt at
In the
watchin:
police in
feeling v
paper o?
“The
sidered

APRIL, 19°

190 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

being able to find the mate in the dark; returned to the
deck for the binacle light. With this he descended and
laid hands on the victim, but was notable to overcome
him, even with the aid of Atwell; but finally, with the
assistance of Church, he was dragzed on deck, beaten and
thrown overboard. He was not yet dead, and swam after
the vessel four or five minutes, erying for help, before he
sank. All these transactions were witnessed by the boy
Dawes, who had a passive, if not an active part in them.

The pirates Then took possession of the vessel, and
Wansley busied himself in wiping up the blood that had
been spilled on deck, declaring, with an oath, that though
he had heard that the stains of the blood of a murdered
person could not be effaced, he weuld wipe away these.
hen, after drinking all round, they got up the rece
It was distributed in equal portions to all on board;
Brownrigg and Talbot being assured that if they would
keep the secret, and share the plunder, they should receive
no mjury.

They then steered a northeasterly course toward Long
Island, till they came within fifteen or twenty miles of
Southampton fit, where they resolved to leave the ves-
sel in the boats, though the wind was blowing hard. At-
well scuttled the brig and got into the jolly boat with
Church and Talbot, while Gibbs, Wansley, Dawes and
Brownrigg, put off in the long boat. The na | boat
swamped on a bar twe miles from the shore, and all on
board were drowned, The long boat was in great danger
also, and was only saved froma like fate by throwing
over several bags of specie. Nevertheless, the crew at
last got on shore on Pelican Istand, where they buried
their money, and found a sportsinan who told them where
they were. They then crossed to Great Barn Island, and
went to the house of a Mr. Johnson, to whom Brownrige
gave the proper information. Thence they went to the
house of a Mr. Leonard, where they procured a wagon to
carry them farther. As they were about to get in, Brown-
rige eried alond that they might go whither they pleased,
but he would not accompany them, for they were murder-
ers. On hearing this Me. Leonard sent for a magistrate,

GIBBS AND Wanstey, 19]

Amanenas.
aes wT MASSON CCN 80056 nen tensenesies

and Gibbs ans AWes were av
raped into his eds si fe apprehended, Wanshey ders
Mev mit was followed and soon taken,

Seis. as 4 t ue guilt of the prisoners was full and
foenle a a; ve own een of the crime, vratui-
de team. Ussts, ) lerritt and Stevenson, who had
Rec ich ik fs sie oes ae to a York, could
a glee  t doubton the mind of :

bana aie the testimony of those nificein Wan
and both admitte tthe’ pe celonally prompted by Gibbs
mantic’ gee titted t tut Brownrigg Was innocent of any
Parverpation in their erines. Their confess; at
however, so favorable to Dawes, Clear ee

Gibbs was arraj
S Was arraigned for the my ai
seed g irder of Willia .
Hie e ansley for that of Willian Thornby Thee
Jot found guilty. and the distriet_ attorney ‘
Judgment on the verdict. ‘There was. thiny wentaeee
ie da Het. . as Hothing peeuliar j
oe deportmont during the trial The lin plang if
tibbs ie ee ; : . . : Save oO
te bait he fan darkened With a teannient shies
3 ve eVidentiy abandoned a :
and sat the greater part af seep tai De I hope of escape,
bg rl a Wo the tine with his hands be.
ansioy ae em calmly easeyiig the scene before him
: “more agitated, and tre si
git a ‘mbled visibly whe
aS cts to hear the verdict of the jury, - oe
e ‘tate é in tl
wane ns dito W asley, in the usnal form. the
ate : of the charge’on whieh he had been indicted.
ro 1c found fuilty. and asked him the usual
“Be “ys ig al! sul he won| SAV oa few Wor te
: ‘ “ A ‘ t
oie g ie nid not know that it Would be of ANY tse ‘i
a ss Realy he had always known that a itlerence of
Hat a hn a —— Of treatment. where White men
ilops, ey had taken the } i
ow ey. ome meen the blacks from the
ee There Was Un antij. sy. as he ae .
te ie bet, the Whites ASVUNSt eotored persons, Ee Nad
: itso himself. both as regarded the witnesses nd
4 ~~ . . H ; 3 :
coe ea case, and in the behavior of the district “
ead oo false PP iiee-ab had been given, as he at
: le means of Knowing, Ty i io wa
2 gy, IC Witnesse é
re he ae ; : SSEOS Wotls
tai lose the manner IM whieh he first came to give -
Mow as to the money on hoard. Two indictments

wea

: rts,
They were


192 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

BeRee recserensseenssare cee

were found against him, of the offenee charged in one of
which he was guiltless. He guessed he had said enough.

The court told fim to proceed, if there was any thing
else he wished to say. le then stated that he was the
first man whe went on board of the Vineyard. He saw
the money brought on board. When aconversation arose
among the crew, as to ‘hat amount of money each had,
he observed, in the way of conversation, that there was
plenty on board. Atwell said, “then let's have it.” This
remark he took for a mere jest, and considered it sueh un-
tila week after, when Atwell told him that a conspiracy
had been formed; that they were the strongest party ; that
they meant to take the lives of the ollicers, and of such of
the menas would not join them... He feltno inclination to
do so, and spoke to Church about it next day. Church
was the only one of the crew he had known before he
shipped in the Vineyard. Chureh advised him not to in-
forin against the conspirators. If he had done so he would
have unly been in the saine situation in which he was at
present. He had nothing more to say.

He was quite coherent in his remarks, and distinet in
his utterance; but there was nothing impudent in his de-
meanor, He had naturally a sullen’ smile on his counte-
hanec,

Gibbs spoke fluently, rapidly, and with propriety. He
aid he wished to state how far he was guilty, and how far
Innocent. When he went on board he knew only Church
and Dawes. He was asked by Harry Atwood (so he
pronounced the mame) to join the conspiracy, and at first
refused todo so. But he subsequently agreed to it. So
id all the crew, including Browurigg and Dawes. He
afteravards began to think that it was a dreadful thing to
take aaman’s life, and declared that he world not assent
to killing the captain and mate; that he would break any
Inatu’s Hose Whe proposed itto him. He persuaded all of
them to abandon this part of the project, except Church
and Dawes: aud their opposition was such that he yield-
ed. Browurige agreed to eall up the captain, and did so.
The mate was thrown overboard by Church and Dawes.
He [Gibbs] protested before God that he was innocent of

GIBBS AND WANSLEY. 193

POSES SOROS SOR OLR Ree eter emeneenteseee

the tnurder of the mate. Me did help to throw the eap-
tain overboard. 2

The judge then proceeded to pss sentence. What had

fallen from the Prsoners, he said, might exeite some feel. -

ing, but only tended to econtirm the justice of their sentence
He observed to Wansley that whatever prejudice he might
Mnagine existed, growing out of the Histinetions of color
the utmost Mnpertiality had been observed in his ease
Admitting tha€ both Brownrige and Dawes hd sworn
falsely, the prisoners’ own words. just uttered, admitted
that they Dad been stulty of amost horrible. erie that
of taking homan life, without provocation. If the cont
tt oly zu neh that, in the case of Wansley, the
east injustice had been done ‘slightest: advantage
withhett from him, the . ie | ‘ ie hes ae
breed at y would afford him another oppor.
yrs ‘ing tried. But there was nota shadow of such
When the accused denies the charges against him
courts must procecd upon testimony. ‘There is no other
mode of arriving at a conclusion, Sometimes, with all
the care that may be taken, they may err: and it is most
distressing for them to execute’ their painful duty of pro.
houncing sentence, when the¥ entertain the Wiprititinss
that a mistake may have been made in convicting. But
here there was no such embarrassment. The prisoners
stood, for the last time, in the presence of an earthly tri-
bunal, and admitted their deep and unequivocal anilt
In ordinary cases of the kind, there were some cireum-
stances of palliation, or such as tended to excite sympa-
thy. "The offender may have been led to commit the a
by sudden passion, or strong resentment newly awakened :
there may have been violent provocation to the deed of
other circumstances, which may take away the control of
reason for the time, may mitigate the turpitude of the
offence. It was not so here. What cause of offence had
cither the captain or mate ever given to the prisoners?
wy trusted in them as able seamen and good citizens,
and confided to them their lives and property. Asumof
money was the Jemptation, and over the scheme to obtain

a

a ee


194 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

Hothey had delberated long and cautiously— they had
slept upon it, and reasoned long about at. Hf what Gibbs
had stated were true, and though he did not strike the
mate, sUll he was equally gailiy as an abettor, inthe eye
of the haw, and in his own couscrence. He might have
stretched out hus hand and saved him, when he stood by
assisting and encouraging has murderers, and the unfortu-
hate man Was petitionmg in his ageny for merey.

Nuliesthetarie all this, the judge said. he could not
beheve the prisoners so wholly callous. and meapable of
fechng contrition, as net to have their hearts softened aud
awakened to repentant cmotion when they looked back
pou thei unprovoked outrage. ‘They were American
citizens, They had shown in what they had said ms court
this day, that they were possessed of a more than ordinary
share of intelligence, and must have participated to some
extent in the blessings of education su widely scattered
over this country. “They well auderstood their civil du-
ties and responsibilities. ‘The court would believe them
when they stated, that up toa certain tine, they were
averse to the commission of the crime. to youth their
carly feelings must have been taught to revolt, when they
heard of the commission of amurders, mutinies and rob-
beries. Yet now. in mature manhood, they stood con-
vieted of all. When they entered on the hazardous pro-
fession they had adopted. those crimes must have present
ed themselves as the most dangerous against which they
would have to guard > nor could they then have dreamed
of perpetrating them. But the evidence convicted them
of every offence laidin the indietinent, of murder, mutiny,
robbery on the high seas, and seutthug the vessel; the
penalty foreach of whiehoos death. Tf they had saved
the lives of the officers. and the cargo likewise. and had
scuttled the vessel, their condemnation would have been
the same.

He then proceeded: to pass sentence on them severally,
that cach should be taken from the place where they then
were, and thenee to the plaice of continement. and) should
be hanged by the neck tH dead: amd that the marshal of
the southern distriet of New York shotld sce thus sentence

GIBBS AND WANSLEY. 195

. =
We eteane

canned Hite eXceution on the twenty-second day of April
ribs between the hours of tem and four o'clock

e rie . . .
i ” : rved that the only matter whieh the court had
He Mader dehberation, was as to the line of executing

[hd : . , ‘ee . ° . a :

The se He Hee. Tn many countries this follows the sentence
Momedtiately > nor was there any leg heyy

| wal reason why they
should not be forthwith conveyed to the seaffold. from the

dock where they sted. ¢ F
nacalcie ) med. tes underge their fate. "Phe court
ae CHE SEX Weeks: for preparation: butt wis
7 omens With a view of allow: the i ina
Licino tiacdl 2 Wowie them to indulee ina
H of pardon. hey Must wot tet there auinds dwell on
seb moment. "Their death was inevitable. ty Was as
eee as that they were now livinse ten, that by the
ae of April they must die.
cS seme Wat was not an aleetine subject of cousidera-
a or Mem, to hear this imevitable deeree: did they
i a a apply and understand it? "Phe court hardly knew
f what manner to present to them its closing remarks,
what view of their case would ost pe netrat uid i it
‘ shale ne nik: ; hetrate aud) melt
a erie Surely it ust sometimes have presented
Ve lo their minds, that Mois a dreadful thing to die
even In age, when the faculues have lost all their vig
and the mind and) body ir f eines
ae ag, mw body pertorm: their functions most
cemy, itis natural to cling to hfe: doubly so in the fal
less of strength and manhood, When laid on the bed of
+ kness, though surrounded by the vearest and dearest
riends, attended with every comfort and every ; aie
to resist the last ene yo it ist lil 2 aoe
aes © AtsCenemy, Wis felt to be a hard thing to lie
. . : 4 ; , j .
ao = Perilous profession, in whieh they must sometine
lave been exposed to the dangers of tempests, rocks and
shipwrecks they thave fi »Pdhat pei
sowie ; y nth weve felt the power of that priei
© Which tmduced them to make every ial .
‘ se i Very eNcrtion to save
their lives, by the most desperate edtorts. Even in the
Uproar and excitement of battle. Where all the angry pras
SIOWS dre aroused, the principle of : idee exthies
3 : , self presery; :
and operates, ; Po eae eee
But it the prisoners had never thought of felt that it is
“ Nes thing tode, he besought them how to consider of
) coolly, and with a steadfast attention to resard it sinuly
et thea also consider what is ty come after it ‘The

‘we

a?-


196 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

SORRORCARA DR OR Reewmenenseerenensececcecsseeccceeteess oe TST TORR R ee nem eOeeS Oe en eens weeen eens wn ca ceee

hinnanity of the marshal weld afford: them every con.
Verence for commi€ntecation with rows nen. suchas they
Wht choose tosee. Phe ecurt had dischirved its dats,

Cabbs asked it he might see das frends. The court
rephed that the marshal would allow hin every proper
Dacbialenee:

Seon after his arrest. and before his trial. he expressed
wdestre to Henry Wo Merritt. one of the police marshals,
tothe sone COMMUTE ITONS toa Piacastrate respecting
Daseceer wnbertnes. Whe aliens tnade Know das wash
to Panes Hopson. Psy. one of the police inacistrates of
Neve You. and) that ventlenman. prestumme that a de-
Velopment of the errenmstanees attending bis piracies
World be highly important and vahaable to the mereantile
COLETTE, proceeded te the prison at Bellevire to reecive
his confession. ‘Phe disclosures made te that gentleman
Will bee fot in the sequel Phe other details presented
In the following IMPraAuve, Were communicated to Mr.
Merritt, police officer, the deputy keeper of Bridewell, and
dhother person, at diferent times, and were committed to
Paper by them on the spot, very hearly in his own lan.
Kaze. Some of them are so strongly corroborated hy
circtumstanees, as to leave hardly a doubt on the minds
of the most scepticnnd.

The first account whieh he gave of himself is, that his
father obtained a situation for him in the United States
sloop of war Hornet, Captain Lawrence, during the last

rar with Baglond. in which vessel he made two CLUISES ;
in the last of whieh she captured and sunk the enemy”:
Sloop of wie Peacock olf the eoast of Pernumbueoe, atier
an Chscicement af twenty minutes. On the arrival of the
Hornet inthe United States, Captian Lawrence was as.
sighed by the coverniment to the command of. the frigate
Chesapeake. then lying in Boston harbor, and Gibbs
wecommpaniod Tm to that ill-Guted vessel ine the mouth of
April, ISt3.

This statement of his serviees was proved ta be false,
and acknowledved as sueh by Duaself. tis motive for
the filsehood was. he said. te eonceal lis real adventures
about this time, that ties Proper name might uot be dis-

GIBBS AND WANSLEY. 197

SARONS POR One ear eee cen eene ec eics, pee
ONO Oa em ese meer cacsacs
. asee. eee teeta a ne Renee eecaaeeeensteds os sarees a
38 ee

covered, There Is Ves we ithe i
FaWeean aa teh te corroborate and Hothing te
After Its exehange. he whandoned all wea of following
the sea fora Stbsistenee. went heme to Rhode Estond sid
remained there afew months. bat hei unable to conqner
his propensity te roving, heentered on bested a ships bonne
to New Orleans and thenee to Stockholm. On the home.
ward Ptssage they were rempelled to put inte Bristol
Puzland, in distress. Where the hip was condemned. are
he proceeded te Liverpool, Te retirned to the Urated
States in the Ship Amity. Captain Maxwell. Shortly after
his rettirn home, the death ofan unete Put TIME i posses.
Sion of bent two thousciud dethers. with whieh fe Ostsih-
lisheel himyselt Inthe srocery business in Boston. "Mas
undertakiiiz was far from being: profitable and he was
often under the Hecessity of applying to his father for
assistance, which was ways afforded, @ecompanied with
good advice and his blessing. ‘The stock was finally sold
at auction, for about nine hnndred dollars. Which he Sareeta
: prandeted in Uppling houses and wong profligates
His father hearing of his dissipation, wrote alleetionately
and carnestly to him: te come home, bat he stubbornly
refused, and weut to seaagain, in the ship John, Cu mies
Brown, bound for the Island of Margaretta, it:
After its arrival, he loti the ship. and entered on board
the Colombian privateer” Maria, Captain Bell They
cruised for about two months in the Gulf of Nieane.
around Cuba, but the crey Inve ontine Uissatisfiod ne ne
sequence of the non-payment of their PPiZe-mMoney, ae
finy arose, the crew took possession of the schooner uid
landed the officers near Pensacola, number of day
elapsed before it was finally decided by them: what chips
to pursue. Some advised that they should erase as ie
‘fore, under the ¢ ‘olombian COMMISSION: Others pre eordl ve
hoist the black Haz. They cruised for a short he M ithe
out steeess, and twas then NnaMiMosly determined. to
dale the black fag. and declare war against Ul nations.
leit bloody purpose was pet earned, however, mite in.

Inediate exeention, They boarded a nitaber of vessely
l7* va

“ee


204 GIBBS AND WANSLEy.

wee ees

ane

ceeded in gaining the confidence of Admiral Brown, Iv
put me in command of a eases schooner, mounting
two long twenty-four pounders and sixteen men. Psat.
ed from Buenos Aytes, made two good cruises, and re.
turned safely to port. Eb then bought the half of a new
Baltimore schooner, and suled again, but was captured
seven days ont, and carried into Rio Janeiro, where the
Brazilians paid me my change. T remained there until
peace took place. then returned. to Buenios Ayres, ane
thenee to New York.”

After the Inpse of about a year, which he passed in
travelling from place to place, Gibbs states that the war
between France and Algiers attracted his attention,
Knowing that the Preneh commerec pestis a fine op-
pertunity for plunder, he determined. to embark for Al-
Klers and offer his serviees to the Dey. He accordingly
took passage from this port in the Sally Ann, belonging to
Bath, landed at Barcelona, crossed to Port Mahon, and
endeavored to make his Way to Algiers. The vigilance
ofthe Freneh fleet prevented: the accomplishment ot his
Purpese. and he proceeded. to Tinis. ‘There, finding it
Mnsife to attempt a Joumey to Algiers teross the desert,
he amused buaself with contemplating the ruins of Car.
thase. and reviving his recollections of her war with the
Romans. He afterwards took passage to Marseilles. and
thenee to Boston. rom Boston he sailer? New ( Yrleans,
and there entered as one of the CTOW On tig Vineyard.
"To a question Why he, who had been tec. stomed to eom-
nan, should enter as common sailor on board the Vine-
yard. he answered that he sought employment to asstlage
the horrors of reflection.

Ife solemnly declared that he had no ageney in the
murder of the mate, for Which he was tried and convicted,
md could net tniderstand how he could be found euilty.,
When he stood by and looked passively on the scene of
destrnetion. Ue readily admitted. however, his partienpa.
Hon in the MMII. revelt sapped robbery, and in the mur-
der of We. Thorby. pp. often asked if he should not he
meardered wy the streets. iP he had his liberty. and was
recognised. and frequently exehumed, “Oh, if Thad got

GIBES AND WANSLEY. 205

Ri Rin: eas a eee

into Algiers, [ never should have been in this prison to be
hung for murder.”

Though he Fave ho evidence of a “contrite heart” for
the horrible erines of whieh he confessed himself guilty,
yet he evidently dwelt Upon their recolleetion With great
unwillingness. ” If 2 question was asked him, “how were
the crews senerally destroyed 2" he answered qnickly
and briefly, and instantly changed the topie cither to the
circumstances that attended his trial, or to hig exploits in
Buenos Ayres, After his trial, his frame Was somewhat
enfoébled his face more pale, and his eyes more sunken,
but the indieations of his bold, enterprising and desperate
mind remained. fy his cell he seemed More an object of
Pty than abhorrence. He was atlahle and communicative,
and withal so genth that no one would have taken him
for the abominable Villain he was. is Conversation wag
lucid and pertinent, and his style of discourse Utosether
Original.

"To correct the Statement of some of the Papers that
Gibbs, like other criminals, was disposed to magnify and
exaggerate his crimes, it may be well to state that one of
Jocelyn’s charts of the West Indies was handed him, eon.
taining the names of about ninety vessels which were
boarded and plundered by pirates, from ISI7 te N25,
With a request that he would mark those of Whose reb-
bery he had any recollection. "The ehart Was returned
With but one mark, and that Upon the ship Lueins of
Charleston. When questioned afterwards in regard to
that vessel, he £ave such an account of her, and her sub-
sequent’ re-capture by the Enterprise. as left no doubt of
the trath of his Statement.

Gibbs wrote two letters to the female Mentioned in the
foregoing pages, in which he advises her to turn from her
Vicious course, and seck repentance, before her lamp of
life ‘expires, Those letter: indicate considerable native
talent, but not many signs of education, His spelling js
Very bad. He quoted Scripture with considerable rend)-
Ness, and read Nuently. For the fratification of one
readers, we give one of these letters entire,

IS


198 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

and allowed them to pass unmolested, there being ne
specie on board, and their cargoes not being convertible
into any thing valuable to themselves. At last one of the
crew, named Antonio, stggested that) an arrangemcnt
could be made with a man in Havana, that would be
mutually benefieal; that he would receive all their goods,
sell them, and divide the procecds. "This suggestion bemg
favorably received, they ran up within two miles of Moro
Castle, and sent: Antonio on shore to see the merchant
and make a contract with lim. Previous to this, Giibbs
Was chosen to navigate the vessel. Antonio succeeded in
arranging every thing according to their wishes, and
Cape Mutonio was appointed as the place of rendezvous.
The merchant was to furnish drogers to transport the
goods to Havana, which was done by him for more than
three years.

The Maria now put to sea, with a crew of about fifty
men, mnustly Spaniards and Americans, with every hope
of success. ‘he first vessel she fell in with was the In-
dispensable, an English ship, bound to Havana, which
was taken and carried to Cape Antonio. The crew were
immediately destroyed: those who resisted were hewed
to picces ; those who offered no resistance were reserved
to Gi shot and thrown overboard. Such was the manner
in which they proceeded in all their subsequent captures.
The unhappy being that cried for merey, in the hope that
something like humanity was to be found in the breasts
even of the worst of men, shared the same fate with him
who resolved to sell his life at the highest price. A
French brig, with a valuable cargo of wine and silk, was
taken shortly after; the vessel was burnt and the crew
murdered.

The sanguinary seenes through which Gibbs had pass-
ed now effectually wrought up his desperation to the
highest pitch, and being as remarkable for his coolness
and intrepidity as he was for his skill in navigation, he
was unanimously chosen to be their leader in all future
enterprises, ‘To reapa golden harvest without the hazard
of encountering living witnesses of their crimes, it was
uuinimously resolved to spare no lives, and to burn and

GIBBS AND Waney, 199

SENSORS SOOO re Dee wenmne nsec: sacnes eee

wtneesoseeacemeeessvenes eutges
plunder without mere ~ They knew that the prineipt
iInculcated by the old maxine that “dead on teil aa
tales, Was the sofe one for thea and they sery I iy
fLowed Ho Cabbs states that he never liad bh A
BIVe ordess to Levin the work of death, The s SPs Is
Were eager to aecomplish that objeet withont dela a 1
generally every unhappy vietin disappeared in * tery
ee after hie. het gained the deck ofa sed, :
C how directed his course towards Bound
HS contre towards the Bahama Banks,

where they captured a brig, believed to be the William, of

Santi. '
Farin fem Romne poet In Mexico, With a cargo of
; Poyed the crew, took her to ¢ ape Antonia
and sent the furniture and other articles to their friend in
favana. Sometime during this ernise, the pirate w- ‘
chased for ne: rl thole day by a Uy; ‘eres Mine
aly a whole day by a United Stites ship
Supposed to be the John Adams : he hoisted patriot eae
and finally escaped. In the early part of the sumer an
1817, they took the Earl of Moira. Enel iy fay
don, with a cargo of dry goods. "Phe oe ay
destroyed, the vesse! burnt, and the wouds carried to he
Cape. "There they had a settlement With thes evens
friend, aud the Proceeds were divided accordins 1, eter
ment. ; nf get
Gibbs then repaired to Havana, introduced Vitus! ta
the merchant, and made further arrangement: for the suc.
cessful prosecution of his piracies, While there, he he.
came acquainted with many of the Muglish and Aincriean
naval officers, inquired respecting the stecess of their
Various expeditions for the suppression of Piracy. and all
their intended movements. oe
— On the return to oc Antonio, he found his comrades
A state of mutiny anc rebellion, and that several of them
had been killed. © His energy checked the disturbance
and all agreed to submit to his orders, and put any one to
death who should dare to disobey them. ort
During the cruise which was ade in the latter part of
ISH7, and the beginning of ISIS, 2 Duteh ship from
Curacoa was captured, with a cargo of West India goods
and a quantity of silver plate. The Passengers and crew,
to the number of thirty, were all destroyed, with the ex.

ad

he ee


200 GIRBS AND WANSLEY.

Qe wa Bese COs eee a

ception of a young fenide about seventeen. whe fell upon
her kuees and unplored Gibbs to save her life. Phe ap-
meal was suecesstul, and hie promised to save her, though
ey knew it would lend fo Chatecerous COMSECTTIOUEES anon
his crew. She was carned to Cape Antonio, and kept
there about (we mouths: but the dissatisfietion imereased
Hoda broke out at best mite epen mittiny. and one of the
pirates was shot by Gibbs for diring to lay hold of her
with aoview of beat ont her brams.  Gabbs was eom-
pelled in the end to submit her fate to a couneid of war,
at which at was decided that the preservation of their
own lives made her sacrifice indispensable. Te therefore
acqtiesced in the deeision, and gave orders to have her
destroyed by poison, whieh was injmediately done.

The piratical schooner was shortly after driven ashore
near the Cape, and soimuch damaged that) it was found
necessary to destroy her. A uew sharp-built schooner
Was dn consequence provided by their faithful: friend in
Havana, called the Pieciana, and despatched to their
rendezvous. fn this vessel they eruised suceessfully for
nore than four years. Among the vessels taken and
destroyed with their crews, were the Belvidere, Dido, a
Date brig, the British barque Larch, the other vessels
entunerated in the dist furnished to Justice Hopson, and
Many others whose names are not recollected. Phey had
a very narrow escape atone time, from the English man-
of-war brig Coronation. tno the early part of October,
Is21, they captured a ship from Charleston, took her to
Cape Antonio, and were busily engazed in landing her
cargo, When the United States brig) Huterprise, Captain
Kearney. hove a sight, and discovering their vessels at
anehor, sent in her barges to attaek them. AD serious
ehuagement followed : they defended themselves for some
time belinda four gun battery, buat in the end were de-
feated with considerable loss, and compelled to abandon
their vessels and booty and fly te the mountains for
safety.

They lett hot, poisoned coffee on the cabin table, in
hopes that some of the American officers would drink it.

This statement is confirmed by Captain Kearmey.

GIBBS AND WANSLEY. 201

SOS eRe memes ence ences. Sen eee eRe Ste tN AAAOO CON eC See een tes Keeteneene
. aoe.

What follows as an abstraetat wh: :

(eibbs and Mer. Justis TS Ge gael ae Bis

Chie stion. Charles Corbbes, —aay tne is Mr. tepose I
naderstaud from Mr. Merrit you wistred Me si ea na
told tne so some ten or Ewelve dys since | thie Wee !
bei socold. Phave put off coming aan) now Ie ay
lertincd me yen wished te gnake some communie: ti “
Which you would not make to any other pers coe

few. DT hiave, : ae

(dues. Cabbs. are ¢ woe te i
te ne ne iy ed Gh. ia Foes a
me a long story that will

iy thing!

Aves. I shall tell uothing bee the truth: and it is onl
en condition that you will swear net to divulue any r i 3
I may “2y, When Eamon my trial and at ne ume : toe
IE shotdd vet clear. : sais:
take mgt at Tae Paid gist.) iat T should unt
i matin. bee Would cave di Wy i
should ie kept a secret sheordins ae o ee a
. Under this Promise he stated nS follows : that he had
comienced piracy in the year (S16, in the schooner Sans
Souci, belonging to the Usland of Margaretta, and sine
that tine las been in several other bel) chia tan
thie: sume business ; that many of his comrades ate 4 in
living In the United States, whose names he never 0 Id
Mention; that they had taken from many vessels tay
Sums of money, and various articles of rrerchandise “He
had no doubt he had heen coneemed in rtihine < hee
different vessels: and on retleetion could mention. ant
of Hie names. He gaye’ the ImeNes Of pw: es wae
filles ks See eh Tip ards of st score

of y noby the pirates nnder his command wl
eres had been murdered. One erew he hail S eal foe
eatise they were of Providence, and he eenilid 1 it CS ive
to Slanzhter his townsmen, ee
: res. Sie Why were you so emel as to hill so many
‘TSOUS yThe 4 ‘ i
ve ae you had got all their money, which was
Is. “The laws are the eause of so many morders
Ques, How can that be?! Whatdo yor mean?
Ans. Beeatuse a man has te suffer death for piracy and


202 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

Seer e te cweeeeteses SOOneReOmmeRMnneseges ceneecese sees esenisses Saceees

the punishinent for murder is ne more, "Phen, you knew,
all witnesses are out of the Way. and Tamesure if the
plnistinent was diferent. there world not be so many
murders,

Ques. Have you any objections te tell me the names
of any persous who have heen concerned in piracy, or
Whe received the gains of pirates ?

fee. There are many now in the United States, but I
Will net mention their names. DP knew that when P was
ering, the vovernor of the Ise of Pines was concerned
With pirates. and Powen't mention any others.

Here we separated, (says Juste Hopson) and he wish-
edoime teealland see din AS, whieh DP promised,

Pevisited tami again on the both of March. Atthat Visit,
nothing particular took place. Foasked him many ques-
tons: he conversed with great freedom : repeated to me
the vessels he first informed me had heen robbed and de-
stroved. He also on Subsequent occasions named many
more, and detailed the Circumstances of their capture.

On one oceasion Gibbs stated that he cruised for more
than three weeks off the eapes of the Delaware, in the
hope of falling im with the Rehecea Sims, a Philadelphia
ship, bound for Canton. He knew that she would have a
large quantity of specie on hoard, but Was disappointed
of his booty. ” The Slip passed the pirate in the night.

Sometime in the course of the year ISH he stated that
he left Havana and came to the United States, bringing
with him about thirty thousand dollars. He passed
several weeks in New York. and then went to Boston,
Whenee he took passage for Liverpool in’ the ship Eme-
rald. Before he sailed, however, he had squandered a
large part of his money in dissipation and gambling. He
remained in Liverpool a few months. and then returned
to Boston in the Slip 'Popaz, Captain Lewis. His  resi-
dence in Liverpool at that time is satisfactorily ascertain-
ed from another souree bes! de his own confession. A
fermale now in New York was well acquainted with him
there, where, she says. he lived like a gentleman, with
Apparently abundant means of support. In speaking of
his acquaintance with this female, he said, “Efell in with

GIBBS AND WANSLEY. 203

SONA N RRNA ARON Ok COR nes eee n PSNR Reema news ee. cee MOTOR ORO OR ORS O18 01 Neem OURS s eco censen 00 wee ees

a woman, who Pthoneht wa: Wl virtue. but she deceived
me. and Pann “OFEY too say that aheart that never felt
Abashed at scenes of carnage and Blood. was aauede an ehild
of, fora time, by fer, ated b cave way te dissipation te
drown the torment How often. wl nthe fumes of liquor
have subsided. tiave | Hheusht of my wood and alection.
Me parents. and of ther oddly sdview ! But when the
hittle monitor becan te mayve Withos me. Poimamediately
seized the Cup te tide mnVSeHl from MVSETE ged drank
Wnt the sense et MMPONICATION Was rene ced. My triends
Advised Fue te behave Lhe a Men and promised tye their
USSIStnee. bet the demon still Hivtinted aie. ame f spurtiecd
their vice

He subseqiientty returned to Boston. sailed for Havona,
and aeaim commeneed his piratical career, dy Is26. he
revisited the United States. and learner of the wae he.
tween Brazil and the Repubhe of Buenos Ayres. sailed
from Boston in the bri Mitty. ef Portsmouth: woh a de.
termination, as he states, of trying his fortune th dletemee
ofa republican government. Upon his Merivad, dee taysnede
himself known to Admiral Brown, and ComMmtnieated: bys
desire to join their navy. "Phe admiral aeccompaiied) beam
to the governor, wand a hentenmant's COMMISSION bene
given him. he joined a ship of PWenty-four cnn. called
the Twenty-Fitth of Mir. © Here” sad ahhs. — TE teatned
heutenant Dodee. an old Teen nee, and aonanber af
other persons with Whonr bP bivedl sailed VWihiets theeeay.
emer gave ine the commission, he told tne Hey erp tead
hocowards in their Mav fo which replied that Phoned
he would have ho apprehension of WV Cowsreber or Nit
When he became Aecerinted with me. Efe thanked aie.
and satd he hoped le should net Le deen ved - Myer whieh
we drank to tits healthy ane te the SHe EES Of tie Picea totie,
He then presented me with oa sword ned ted que te
Wear thatias my companion throneh the deuwhrtyl Strole
In which the Republic wes enyaved.  Ptelt tins f never
Would disernen it. co lenercs Phd a onerve an mvoseme
remained on beard the ship the epaeity of Geb been.
tennt for abet four Moonee. eme whieh tee agen lisvef
Qntenber of skirmishes With the enemy Havens sue.


206 GIBBS AND WANSLEY.

7 TRS eset ate ees tte ete eee

Bellecne Vrison, March 2a, 1th,

It is with regret that Ptake my pen in hand to address
you with these few lines, under the great embarrassment
of iny feelings, placed within these gloomy walls, my body
bound with chains, and under the awful sentence of
death. Tt is chough to throw the strongest mind inte
gloomy prospects, but P find that Jesus Christ is suflieient
tu give consolation to the most despairing soul. For he
suth that he that cometh to me Pwall inno wise east out.

dat it is impossible to describe unto you the ciietions of
my feelings. My breast is like the tempestuous ocean,
raging in its own shame. harrowing up the bottom of my
own soul, But TP look forward to that serene talm when
T shall sleep with kings and counsellors of the earth.
There the wieked cease from troubling, and there the
weary be atrest. "Phere the prisoners rest together; they
hear not the seiee of the oppressor, And FE trust that
there my breast will vot be ruffed by the storm of sin, —-
forthe thing which Pgreatly feared has come upon ime. f
Was not in safety, neither had To rest; yet trouble came.
It is the Lord. let him do what seemeth to dime good,
When Psaw youn Liverpool, and a peaceful calm watt-
ed across both our breasts, and justice no elaim upen ns,
Hitthe did Ethink to meet you in the gloomy walls of a
strong prison, and the arm oof justice stretehed out with
the sword of the law, awaiting the appointed period to
exccute the dreadful sentence, Phave had a fair prospect
in the world, at dast it budded, and brought: forth the
gallows. Lam shortly to mount that seaffold, and to Lid
adiew to this world, and all that was ever dear to my
breast. But, TE trust, when my bedy is mounted on the
gallows high, the heavens above will smile and pity me,
Phope that you will reflect on your past, and fly to that
Jesus whe stands with open arms to receive you. Your
Character is Jost, itis true, When the wieked turaeth
from the wickedness that they have committed, they still
save their souls alive. Let us imagine, for a noment,
that we see the souls standing before the awful tribunal,
and we hear its dreadful sentence, depart, ye cursed, mite
everlasting fire. Imagine you hear the awful lamenta-

3

GIBBS AND WANALLY, 907
ee eee SSTeneenwenenneennnaee teewetescetes seasies sence :

Hous of a soul in |
as tll Te worthy!
ee ee HUE oe enol to melt yey
\ wees ad plead) for Coody Inerey. ; i
: : site nd Sinerey, as afi :
ae bak would for food or as a dye coashiat pare
‘ mare ; ws 7 ze
Bi ed Mh We sees WHET. NOME, Sayeed ues the oa
! ewe shi: err ; struc
ee nah De heer reCien, OOtir dates will Toe dente
ad davee-s A - nee wud curolled in’ the vast
f SUle: te oddead, ul day + : A
eee wy they ueer be zi
hits thre ettaaed. I hope it will shes wud
ries ity, and that You dana iy
lift: past. :

, Ciod ty set yont at
ine MY soe the Sins and follies of your
whey ie ai tot Close My cetler with aw ofew words
Lae ve You Will receive as froma dying ian: and
( Pe Matevery japortant trath Of this fetter may s k
fags: that every jun ‘ ay sink
] your heart, aud he a lesson to you through lite
Rising eriefs distress my soul
And tears On tears successive rol], —
For a an evil voice js near,
ehide my woes and mock
| u F my fear:
And silent mMeniory weeps anne
er hours of Perce

j and gisdness low .
Estill remain v ™

OUP sincere friend
?

ae Ciantrs Girns.
hiday, April 22d, Gibbs and W; Deal
ea ee : ansley pate :
ee tout crints Both Prisoners scents ps b.
ater hie aoe on YG o'clock, tecotnpaniod by the naar.
Miarines, Tei a cael Iwenty or thirty United States’
Wiens eyes = fon mien atlendesd then te the fital spot
inteat about thes 4 ihe ee eee: tnd: the ropes ade
ly nddrensed 3 f i CKSs, the throne of merey Wits fervent.
catnesily himeclf ain behals. \ nsley then prayed
livin. “These ett Aelve anil Jomed in singing a
nce vals re fses’ concluded, Gibbs addressed the
¥ as follows:
“SY DEAR FRIENDS,
ae @ oe leon herons und althone
ion te if _ the mura roof Mr. Roberts, | solemnly
Sate on nee of the transaction, It is true, 7
i t 5 and SW the fatal deed done and stretcher] :
orth my arm to save him; the technicalities of the Noe
: Wmewaities of the law

h Tam now


208 GIBBS AND WANSLEY,

GIBBS ann WANSLEY,

RRA Ree eesns eNO Ree erences ewcncs

in this World ine rt j ! tT Ww f
> ‘ wun We {; r ian)
oa a ? l Cro nN ie glory mn) that to

Ae then shook hands With Gibbs
c rreymen, their CAPs were dpa WH over t
handkerehiog dropped ]
Honer eansed t!

: le cord to he Severed. ; j i
oe ee ve. aN eaU Ny RIE” by nes itist;
Sty ae re rade main, VW Ansley folded his fac
VOM, before he was run np, and did it gndin a
move them. but Soon hed wih |. itl Slee hah
(ike iedign. n med with Very trifling Struvoles
al ‘o 4 ae Mfter being Near two minutos suspend.

; Se s Te : i eel :
rip Mey , US right hand and Partially removed huis
ibe * hai erie ee Mpother minute raised the kai
Ai S meouth, IN dress wa l
aek ‘Ty ’Spre } S ee Rue aeat
Jacket and trowsers. with a foul Mchor me white on his

Tight arm Wansley ;
; - SCY Wore ab w » arte :
with black, With trow White frock cout, Cimmed

After the hodies
time, they w
Issection,

believe me guilty of the charge--but in the presence of
my God, betore whom LE shall be ina few minutes, [ de-
Clare f did not murder him.

Phave made a full and trank confession to Mr. Hopson,
Which probably most of my hearers present have already
read; and should any of the frictsg of those whom 1
have been teressiury toy or cugaged in the murder of, be
How present, betore my Maker I beg their forgiveness — it
is the ouly boon Pask—and as I hope for pardon through
the blood of Christ, surely this request will not be with-
held by man, toa worm, like myself, standing, as I do, on
the very verge of eternity! Another moment, and I
cease lo exist-—and could TE find in my bosom room to
Rnagine that the speeluturs now assembled fiad forgiven
te, the scaffold would have ne terrors, nor could the pre-
cept which my much respected fricnd, the marshal of the
district, is about to execente. Tet me then, in this public
manner, return my sincere thanks to him, for his kind
ant gentlemanly deportment during my confinement.
He was to me like a father, and his humanity toa dying
man Lt hope will be duly appreciated by an enlightened
community.

My first crime was Piracy, for which my Life would
pay the forfeit’ on conviction ; no punishment could be
inflicted on me farther than that, and therefore [ had
nothing to fear but detection, for had my offences been
mnillions of times more aggravated than they now are,
Death wust have satistied all.

(iibbs having concluded, Wansley began. He said he
might be called a pirate, a robber, and a murderer, and
he was all of these, but he hoped and trusted God would,
through Christ, wash away his aggravated crimes and
offences, and not east him entirely out. His feelings, he
said, were so overpowered that he hardly knew how to
address those about him, but he frankly admitted the cad
Justuass of the sentence, and concluded: by declaring that

209

OTN COR Oe oe arc ences, a POS wee wees,
SOREN R Res eae eae
Ss sees.
A Steen,
ae

the MNicers and
heir faces. and a

Y Gibbs ag a signal to the CXeeu.

sers of the same color,
lad remained on the
ere taken down and g

gallows the Usual
Ven to the SUrgeons for

he had no hope of pardon except thhough ‘the atoning i

blood of his Redeemer, and wished that his sad fate might

teach others to shun the broad! road to‘tuin, and iravel in

that of virtue, whieh would lead to hobor and happiness tin
{ ! '

|


212 JOUN VAN ALSTINE,

wee See

and began to harrow it While he was thus at work,
four persons caine up ou horseback, and he went with
them: to his house, leaving his horses in the field in their
harness. One of them asked if there was not to be a
vendue at lus house, and he rephed, + Yes, they are
always having vendues. but they may sell and be d—d.
If they take my property they will be glad to bring. it
back.” He also abuscd Mr. Huddlestone in no measured
terms. Wale they were thus conversing, the unfortunate
sherul rode up, and Van Alstine asked why he had wet
come before, as they had been waiting for him. Mr.
Huddlestone said it was time enough, and asked if Van
Alstine had any mouey for tim. He rephed, “No, and
Pdlemt wantany.’ "Phe others then rede off, leaving
Van Alstine and the sheril together,

Mr. Hluddlestone told) Van Alstine that the sale was
postponed tora weeh. but that he had anotherexeention
aginst hum. and asked af he could pay a small sum on
anoold one. Pte answered that perhaps he could, and
Mr. Hladdlestone then proposm to give his horse some
oats. they went te the barn together. ‘hey lad to pass
throweh aotenee. aad Vea Adstiae let down the bars.
While the sherith was leadie his horse over, Van Alstine
ma jecubur manner remarked that he would take his own
Horse and runaway. Pluddlestone suswered that he liad
better notoas he should follow hoo. Van Alstme new
gave the horse some oats. and the sherifl sat down ona
bushel measure to eateulate tire stim due oon the old
execution. Which amounted to about erht dollars, Van
Alstine asked te see the Iast exeention. and the sheriff
Showed it to fim. without, however letiue it go out of
ais tiands. Phe them sated Ghat he had: heen ordered) te
eodect the whole stm due om at without allowoes for the
puyinent oot stuns dor which) Via lt held receipts
These words put the qaiserable qos dai ontrageotus
posston. cid wathout the least hesitation he struck Dud.
lestone a violent blow with an oaken bar that he held,
and teiled Tin to the floor. He then repeated the blow,
beat out one eye and fractured the skull of his vietim.

JONN VAN ALSTINE. 213

AD SOOO NORD LAW Ret Cet heene ee hegn eRe Eb betebenenEe cat

iy ee
The weapon was a heavy one ue ’ 0
fisten cian doors, oe ae Him Mae Semed 19

Compunetion sueceeded anger: he dropped his club
and at the same moment pereeive dg his two sons coming
teward him. Phinking they had seen something he
Jerked the body ite the barn by the foot. and ran to meet
and prevent them: from comin: nigh. Paving sent them
wway con other errands, he returned, drageed the corpse
OP lis vietim: inte a eorner of the barn, and covered it with
straw "Phen. te vert Mspicion, he busied himself in
chopping wood. all the while revelving in his mind the
means of coneealing the body. tlad he dug a grave in
the zreen sod it would have attracted immediate notice
and he therefore determined to bury Huddlestone in the
plonehed tied bree been been harrowing. Having formed
this resolution, he went home to sup and await the dark-
hess,

It was a bricht moonlight night, and as the homicide

Was executing his purpose conscience raised up a thon-
sand witnesses of his doings. After digging the grave he
went to the barn. took what sre A was in the pockets of

the deceased, and shouldered the pody. He carried it by
a roundabout way to the grave, to avoid being seen. a
distance of four hundred yards, without once: stopping.
On the way he was obliged to climb over a fence with his
load on his shoulder. At every sound he fancied he
heard the footsteps of a pirsuer, He then took off his
Vietines boots. threw him into the hole, and covered him
up. He hid the boots under a Stone, and an inkstand
that had been nn THrddlestone’s pocket, under a euce.
All the bills he had taken, excepting a three-dollar note,
he put inte a stump, where they were afterwards found
ibbled by mice. Nothing now remained but to dispose
of the sheriff's horse, and had he attended to this on’ the
Sune night he might have escaped detection. Lastead of
so ddoing he went home and went to bed.

He rose in the morning at day-break, and rode the
horse about half a mile from his house to a bridge, under
Which he hid the saddle. He next took the annnal inte a
swamp and Ged him toa sapling, returned, and harrowed


SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF
JOHN VAN ALSTINE,

WHO WAS EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF

WILLIAM HUDDLESTONE.

Vax Anstine was an only son: he was born at Canajo-
haric, N.Y. in the year 1770. He was treated with great
mdulgence by his father, and being very active and in-
dustrious, after the ave of fifteen years he had the whole
management of his father's business, and at the age of
sixteen years he was left alone to support a mother and
three sisters. He made uneommon exertions, and his
efforts were crowned with suecess, so that he had obtain-
ed considerable money by his industry and_ prudence.
His desire for getting money finally grew into a passion,
and he beeame a swapper of horses, and fora long time
he held fast te his integrity. but at last it brought him to
an ignominiots death. Tle still possessed the character
of a respectable man.

Heomarried ao young woman of unspotted character,
after acourtship of four years, to whem he was much
attached. His mother and sisters lived in the same house
with them, and every thing went on harmoniously for
about three years, when a dispute arose between his wile
and the other members of the family, whieh terminated
in his mother and sisters leaving the house. At this time
his fortune underwent a change, and he did not: prosper
as before.

This change was in some measure owing to his peculiar

JOUN VAN ALSTINE. 211

we

character. THe was, though a man of kind and warm
feclings, very irritable and obstinate. He was close and
prudent in his affairs, but the poor man never went away
empty from bis doors. He was easily moved by persua-
sion, but could not be swayed in the least: by opposition
or harshness ; on the contrary he became more inflexible
as difficulties thickened around him. His stubbornness
was so great, that when engaged in lawsnits: with his
neighbors, he would make any sacrifice rather than make
the slightest: advance toward an amicable garrangement.
His ah we have said, was violent, but he was easily
appeased, and it never caused him to raise his hand to
strike, but in two instances. Once he killed a refractory
horse of his own inca moment of passion : the other im-
stance will presently come under consideration. Delibe-
rate injury he never committed, unless when he had been
previously wronged. In such cases he often carried: his
revenge so far as to hurt himself Wis character was
pany constitutional, partly owing to the way ino which
ic was brought up. ‘The only other fault with which he
ean be charged was an inordinate fondness for horse-
racing, whieh led him into many troubles. Tle was so
fond of this pastime that he would: fide sixty iniles to
enjoy it, neglecting his business. ‘This conduct brought
embarrassments on his property. which had beeeme con.
siderable, and ‘these rendered him more irritable and
morose than he would otherwise have been. bt is painful
to see aman so estimable in many things, so led astray
by passion as to imbrue his hands inthe blood of a fellow
creature,

In the year ISES, Van Alstine was invelved in lawsuits,
the result of whieh was that a partof his property wits
advertised te be sold) for the benefit of one Horning, his
creditor. Atea former sale of part of his property en ia
like account. Van Alstine had. or thought he had, just
rause of complaint agaist William Huddlestone. the
sheriff. On the present oceasion the sale was appointed
to take place on the Uth of Oetober, and on that day
Van Alstine remained in his house till the afternoon, but
finding that no person came, he went into one of his fields


THE HIRED ASSASSIN

AN ALERT INVESTIGATOR PROBES A STRANGE DEATH CONUNDRUM—AND
UNCOVERS A CUNNING PLOT OF MURDER ON THE EASY PAYMENT PLAN!

away at a rapid pace in the direction of Syracuse. The
woman said that the visitor had seemed out of breath. when
he arrived, ¢

“He must have been,” commented Picard. “Did you get.a’’

good look at him?” .

“T didn’t pay any particular attention to -him,” she re-

plied. “But he was about thirty, a strong-looking fellow.
I’d say he was Italian.”

The officer went into the washroom. Nothing attracted his
attention there until, just as he was about to leave, he ob-~

served in the flush bowl a sodden mass of cotton and surgical
gauze, almost submerged in the water. “He: fishéd it out,
examined it briefly, then tossed it out into the snow.

Picard realized that it would be useless:to pursue the hunt
any farther, so he returned to the scene beside the cemetery:
His partner, meanwhile, had made a few discoveries.

“Looks like the victim’s name is Joseph Carlucci,’”’- said
Wilcox. “His. wallet contains a driving license and some
cards, so there doesn’t seem to be any doubt about the identity.
Age, fifty-three. Address, 641 Catherine Street, Syracuse. I
found twenty-four dollars in the wallet and you can see he’s
wearing an expensive ring and wrist watch. Lucky for us
the Browns happened along—otherwise it’s my guess the
murderer would have destroyed. identifying’ marks and
dumped the body into the road.”

Picard nodded. “Looks like a typical ride murder to me.
I wonder what that other car was doing here.”

“Here’s something else,” said. Wilcox. “Take a look at
those wounds.”

The other officer looked. There were three bullet holes in ~

the head—all within a radius of one inch! “A neat job,” he
commented. (

“Very neat. But what gets me is that there are no powder
burns !”

This was indeed a puzzling circumstance. If the shots had
been fired from a distance of six inches, burns would. have
resulted. If they had been fired at a distance greater than
six inches, then how explain the extraordinary close group-
ing of the bullet holes? Moreover, the sedan may bave been
still moving over the bumpy road at the time the shots were
fired.

Of course it was possible that the second and third shots
had been discharged after the car stopped, but indications
were that they had been. fired one after the other in quick
succession. The blood tracks from each wound were parallel,

showing that the head had’ not moved perceptibly betweert
the shots,

The troopers agreed that the fugitive in the:pearl gray fedora
was-an expert death-dealer. Apparently he was a New York
gunman, hired to do away with Joseph Carlucci. What had

* Carlucci done to incur such fatal hatred?

Syracuse detectives lost no time visiting the house at 641
Catherine Street. Carlucci’s twenty-two-year-old widow,
Angela, apparently a quiet, home-loving young woman, sup-
plied them with some. significant information. In the. first
place, she admitted, that she did not know how“her middle-
aged’husband had made his money. In the second place, she

, said. that a man had called at the house about an hour be-

fore the murder and asked her husband to drive him to a
hospital. 3

“He had his arm in a sling,” she told the officers.

The man, introduced to her as Tony Gallo, talked like a New
Yorker; she said. She had never seen him before, although he
seemed to be a good friend of her husband.

A man with his right arm in a sling. . . . How could he
have been the murderer? Carlucci had been shot from the
right, and the gun “had undoubtedly been held in the right
hand of the killer. District Attorney William Martin, who
had -questioned the. attractive young widow, puzzled over
this circunfstance, and then asked the state police to be on
the lookout for the man with his arm in a sling.

u Uybangse Sor PICARD all but jumpéd out of his skin when

he heard this detail. He immediately recalled the mass of
cotton and gauze he had found in the washroom at Elm Lodge.
Hastening back to the roadside stand, he recovered the evi-
dence he had so casually tossed into the snow.

At headquarters, the cotton and gauze were dried, then
carefully examined. Picard and his fellow officers noticed
that one end of the cotton had a peculiar formation—there
were four ridges evenly spaced in a straight line, and at the
vend of the ridges a piece of the cotton had been cut away.
About four inches beyond the ridges. was a powder-burned
bullet hole !

Here, then, was the explanation why there had been no
powder burns around the wounds. The murderer had placed
the gun in the palm of his hand, then his hand and arm had
been wrapped up to simulate a broken arm, The four ridges
had been made by the knuckles.

The ruse of the sling had_been resorted to, of course, not

2a °


el

Mi

GIALLIRINZI, Alfred, white, elec. NYSP (Onondaga) February 7, 1935

OSEPH BROWN brought his car to a skidding stop
as his, wife screamed. They stared straight ahead on

.lonely, snow-covered Thompson Road, near East
Syracuse, New York. They saw two cars, one a light-colored
sedan, the other a smaller sedan about twenty yards farther
on, And they heard three sharp reports... .

As they watched, a man standing on the running board of
the smaller car jumped frenziedly behind the wheel and sped
away. No sooner had this happened than another man, wear-
ing a light gray hat and dark overcoat, emerged from the
first car and dashed into the eerie shadows of De Witt
Cemetery, alongside the road. He was still running when
he disappeared from sight among the moon-pallid tombstones.

This strange drama was enacted at about 7:45 pe. M., March
15, 1933. After a moment's hesitation, Brown drove ahead
and halted beside the deserted sedan. He and his wife saw
the’ figure of a man crumpled behind the steering wheel;
the head resting on the back of the seat, sightless eyes staring
upward in an expression of surprise and terror. Blood was
flowing down the side of his neck. Aghast at this violence
into which: they had stumbled too late to prevent grim
murder, the Browns hurried away to call the police and give
a description of the fleeing gunman.

Within a few minutes State Troopers Howard Picard and
Donald Wilcox, of the East Syracuse barracks, were at the
scene. Wilcox remained to inspect the body while Picard
trailed the footprints through the cemetery. He had followed
them about one hundred yards when he found a .25 caliber
automatic pistol. Then he continued through the cemetery,
emerging on the highway near a roadside stand called [Im
Lodge, three-quarters of a mile from the murder scene.

“’m looking for a man wearing a light gray hat and a
dark overcoat,” Picard told the proprietress. “Did you see
him pass here?”

“Why, he was in here just a little while ago!” she exclaimed.

The man had first asked when the next bus passed on the
way to New York City. Told that a bus would not arrive
for an hour, he had ordered a sandwich, then visited the
washroom. Within a minute or so he had come out, paid
for the sandwich, which he did not eat, and then walked

NO TEARS

Left: Mrs. Angela Carlucci
received news of her hus-
band’s “ride” murder with
no violent outburst of grief.


214

JOUN VAN ALSTINE.

.
see eas

over the grave. He also endeavored to efface the stains
of blood from the fenee ever whieh he had efomb. _A
little before sunset he went and loosened the horse, which
ran half aanile before he could lay hands on him = agai.
Justas he had caught the horse he saw that he was ob-
served by a woman, and putting a bold face on the matter
he led the animal direetly towards her. After this he hid
the horse at different times in different places, :
When Hnddlestone was missed suspicion fell upon Van
Alstine. Me had passed the bill he took from the oo
and it was observed to be stained with blood. On the
sistecnth of the month, conversing with a neighber on the
subject, he deelared his belief that the sheriff had abseond-
ed with the nioney he had collected. Me said it had been
intimated to hime that he had killed Huddlestone, that he
had received the bill before mentioned from a friend, whom
he could) produce. if that would give any satisfaction.
Having learned that a search for the body was to he made
the next day, he went and hid Huddlestone’s horse in
what he thought a safe place in the woods, and returned
home. He went to bed without any intention of escaping.
He woke about midnight and his wife observed that he
had heen speaking about removing. and if he chose to go
amd look for a place, she was willing and would take
goad care of his affairs in his absence. He asked her
why she spoke in this manner, and she agen tas rot
everything seemed to turn against him. He demane ed to
know if she believed hin guilty of the murder. She re-
plied that she did) net know. Guilty as he was, Van
Alstine could not bear to lower himself in this affectionate
woman's esteem by acknowledging his crime. THe said
he should probably be apprehended the nest day on SUIS-
Hieron, ane that he would as lef he in hell as in jal.
Ve added, however, that af he took te Might suspicion
weld be stronger. Finding that) she wished him to
eseatpe, he arose. carried a saddle to Huddlestone’s horse,
and took the read to Canada,
The search took pliee the next day. and the body wae
found as welbas the bills and other artichs Van Alstine

JOHN VAN ALSTINE.

ane weet ees

had secreted. Blood was observed on the fence and in
the barn where the murder had hoon perpetrated,

The homicide reached Kingston, in Canada, in safety,
passing by the name of John Allen.
one Page, who showed him
ward for his apprehension.
and embarked on beard
to Sandusky
States,

Hore hie fell an with
& prockunation offering ao re-
Thence he went to Butlialo
a schooner, Intending to proceed
erseme other remote town in the western
Opposite Long Point a head wind compelled the
vessel to anchor, and increased in violence tll a parted
hee cable. ‘There was a passenger on board named
Slocum, who colmpared Van Alstine’s person with the
deseription in the governor's prockumation, and eau to
the conclusion that he was the figitive indicated. As
soon as the schooner reached the shore, which she did at
Black Rock. Slocum eaused him to be arrested and lodoed
‘in Butlalo jail We persisted in calling himself Mien. ull
he was identified by a person who had. seen Hhitna We fore:
He then cave Up all thoughts of concealment, and was
conveyed to Seoharie.

He avowed that when apprehended at Bulllo he was
strongly tempted to commit sticide, and went so fir ns te
wtempt to. strangle himself! with huis neekeloth HH.
thought more than once on the road te Neeharie of thiow-
ig hnuself headlone out of the earcige. but the thenehe,
of whatinust be the ounishment of suels
next world deterred him,

On the [6th of November he was arraigned and pleaded
hot guilty. Tt was proved that the speetele ease af
Mddlestone was found in the straw where his Ply devel
lain; and that Van Alstine had pretended to have patel
the exeentions against him, Wishing too make at uppear
thatthe sheru? had absconded with the anon ye Ab ap.
peared too inevidence that he lad made Use of giibagietts
eXpressions touching the intended sale of tis jloperty,
Which were new construed Mnfiverably for hia Phe
Mactot his having fled on Pnddlestone’s horse wats alse
clearly established. His Biult owas miade apporent by
other incontestible evidenes, aid the jury brought in
verdict of guilty.

woevitue aia t

a
The chief justice then asked him if

pas: o


ON ee eR a acme ae me A

216 JOHN VAN ALSTINE. ‘

tmeses eee See Set See SoCo) See cer err ae err are) Poorer arr err ere Se Seer Sr eC rt Steerer ceed

hie tiadd sy res son fe offer vw Ny Sentence of death stron!
not be promennecd, and he replied: that) te had) ner
Sentenee wos then rendered,
The stecestions of avarice and passion had not bee:
hot

Confessions of

af sesctegel ee ele thege gpaatee:
‘ HH eye eee

able to cradieat. the caod principles sn whieh: the nts: i -@ 14 a
Wie SEVEN BROTHERS.

pyaar tid been edneated: His penitemee was as sia
msds giatt. Pts tebe Tiened: that hy referriae Tis tes
denoof san-te Pim most able te tear tt die uasde au ae
eoptabiles cteregment

He Was executed pursuant te his sentences,

a)
ane

eer F

Se
hs Pry

5, H itttse wei safler, sie show th
Poti generauon the necessity of wuardig agaist od
crarigaiy, ayant gear Het tanees, ‘cand serbian shotl
Aha Fatemperanee, Pwill now procee MNO an nee
vl i st nial SIX other felon ee ee
Iwas born on the sixth day of September, P50 My
Pither prurebiased= sa piece of Lund, and dived comfortabh
aod happy uatl the year Tes6, at which tune | pened i
party dissatisticd with their present Laws ani gacene
tent, tnd had raised a considerable fore ity thie Saints of
teelame. te sett tree from Britush Cy renitoy. cetel atastutrate:
POUSETUtOM Of onrowo | Before vom any Certhe Peles
ierd doer conat of the Way toocive: sone poertietbat ero of
the esse of this uisirreetion.
In tiye yeu hie, ole Jolin WeNeel titirelerced Orbe ang
thre hte’ s ited constable s, Hbeoded befowed. creed Witheornt any
sreatottence on the constables side. Which ose mibaged
1 :


assed and it

cigar, “but I
1e bottom of

hat has been
1, but I keep

that Angela
hat big house
a young girl.
do would be
she kept on
very night to

between his

vy be on the
ngela does in

the Catherine
nd the lights
again on the
He noted the
the Carlucci

od again,” he
ling on her.”
ey’s reply.

he most per-
[otor Vehicle
Ross.

vised Martin.

immed warmer.
> house and a
airs bedroom.
e room. Then
open.

was a private
to gain access
ar the opened
1 man’s voice.
night air.

le next morn-
igh the night,
ites later, the
breast of the

ivy-set figure.
ishy eyebrows
» him to stop
ves us he ap

RE

The Specter in the Cemetery © it

proached ‘the car and -reached in his pocket for his sum-
mons book. ar

“Let me see your license,” he said to the astonished driver.

“I wasn’t speeding,” the latter retorted.

Piano tapped an impatient pencil on his summons: book.
He was the perfect picture of a sarcastic traffic officer. The

man in the car gave a gesture of resignation and handed over |

his billfold.

“Alfred Giallarenzo, 800 East 223rd Street, New York
City,” was the designation on the operator’s license.

“Where are your registration papers?” demanded Piano.

The driver rummaged through one of the side-pockets and
drew out a wallet containing the papers. The Deputy scanned
them quickly and saw that Angela Ross was the owner, just
as he had expected.

“Stolen car, eh,” he said scornfully. “You thought you
could get away with it?” :

“But,” protested the driver, “the owner’s a friend of mine.”

“We'll settle all that at the jail,” said Piano. “Let’s get
going.”

But for all his outward bluster, the Deputy Sheriff was

not sure of his ground, hence the subterfuge of the stolen
car charge by which the man called Giallarenzo could. be
made to explain a few things about himself.

The prisoner was smiling and shaking his head as if Piano
were the craziest person he had ever met. The officer went
on with the act and told District Attorney Martin that he
had caught a car thief. Giallarenzo stood by shaking his head
in vigorous denial. He explained that the woman who owned
the car was a friend of his. He had known her for a long time.

“How long?” asked Martin. *s

“A few years,” replied Giallarenzo. “I met her at the
Oswego National -Guard Camp when I was in the 258th
Field Artillery.”

“Where do you come from?”

“New York.”

“What are you doing in Syracuse?”

“I’ve been out of work for a few months, so I thought I’d
come: up here and visit my old friends,” said Giallarenzo
earnestly. :

“You weren’t in Syracuse around March 15th, were you?”
persisted Martin.

Giallarenzo’s eyes narrowed, and after a thoughtful pause

THIRD ASSISTANT POSTMASTER GENERAL
DIVISION OF MONEY ORDERS

be Rmercaee ap .
POST OFFICE DEPARTMENT No// eee :
prt tag Ofiee

The romtinantr " er i ca ie
will iramrt 7

& ad cl 2
= here 4

the remitter ithe body of Chis appiioation it not b Aj dney Order Olice
Spares ahnve this Tine era for the Postmecter’s record, to be filled in by him.
‘ +t pttood poe eeenaume eae ter gear nigh wagereemmmlalpaaeneeaiepetce-emt i

E Application for Domestic Money Order.

prcws below to be filled In by purchnsek, or, if necessary,
eer $ by anuther person for hime is 4.
me Amount ‘<

Peyto |
Onder olin

beter

w/o ii ron ot Wat foe Shaan telke Wakecdeas ea
| a 4, LL ied
‘7 iO ? ur? YD fs

/ eee

ao \
seatemaaneneecdn neces wee SUMO :

he shook his head. “I was sick in New York City at the time.”
“Tg there any way of verifying that? You see we have
been tracking a car thief for a long time; we have to check
everything that comes our way,” explained Martin. He didn’t
want Giallarenzo to. know what he was really after.
“The New York Telephone Company has my time sheet,”
replied Giallarenzo. “I was working for them then.”
Martin turned on Piano with mock severity. :
“This man seems perfectly all right to me,” he said. “Go

out and get Mrs. Carlucci. You should have spoken to her

in the first place!”

Giallarenzo willingly remained in the District. Attorney’s
office, while Piano was sent out to pick up Angela Carlucci.
But he was ordered to stall for time—time in which to bring
in witnesses in the murder case.

First to arrive was Mrs. Sherwin, the lunchroom proprietress.

Accompanied by a detective, she entered the anteroom

where Giallarenzo was thumbing through a magazine. The .

heavy-jawed man was unaware of the searching glances that
were sizing him up. He thought that Mrs. Sherwin, like
himself, was waiting to speak to the District Attorney.

Finally Mrs. Sherwin and the detective left the room.

“Well?” asked Martin.

The woman shook her head. “I’ve never seen that man
before in my life.”

Martin’s jaw fell. “He’s not the man you saw in the
lunchroom? The man who wanted a bus?” |

“No,” was the emphatic reply. Eee igs.

Martin felt that the case had exploded in his face. When
the filling station man likewise failed to make an identifica-
tion, Martin shook his head.

“I guess I was off on my hunches,” he said. :

A deputy sheriff called a few minutes later to report that
Fred Brown, whose car had crashed into the death machine,
would not be able to come to the District Attorney’s office
for another half-hour.

Piano had by this time reached Angela’s house.

“We picked up a man driving your car this morning,”
he told the girl. :

“What was his name?” asked Angela.

“Giallarenzo was the name on his driver’s license.”

Angela’s full red lips curved into a smile. “How silly,”
she said with a little laugh. ‘“He’s a friend of mine.”

Piano returned the smile. “In (Continued on page 60)

Deputy Sheriff Piano (above). His strategy trapped a killer.
(Left) This money order application, part of the $1,000 that
paid for murder, gave away tha name of the trigger-man

“

Ma ARR MS MN ds Se DN li api as a

60

He told how Caulk had laid all the
plans to rob Decker. He said Caulk had
enlisted the services of Earl Davis, who
had had a car. Then Caulk told Decker
not to buy a ticket for St. Louis because
there was a possibility a friend of his
might be driving through and would take
him along.

“On the night of March 18th, Earl
picked Ken and me up in his car,” Coop-
er told us. “We got down on the floor in
the back seat. Earl drove down to: the
place where we’d told Albert to wait. Al-
bert got in the car. He didn’t know Earl.
We drove toward the edge of town, and
Ken hit Albert over the head with a crank.
Ear] stopped his car and took Albert’s
money.

“THEN we got in Ken’s boat and rowed
to our shack where we got the -hall-
tree and weights, I rowed out to the chan-
nel while Ken and Ear! tied the weights to
the body. Then Earl threw the body into
the water and we rowed back to the shore
and divided the money. I got $150 for
my share.”

The mention of Earl Davis’ part in the
crime nearly knocked us over.. He was a
hard-working young man, steadily em-
ployed, and he received good wages. He
was unusually handsome. His dark hair
and eyes and athletic build would make
him stand out in any crowd. He came
of a very good family and had never been
in trouble in his life. ;

His explanation of how he happened to
be involved in the crime, was that he
didn’t know what he was getting into. He
contradicted Cooper’s statement that Ken-
neth Caulk had made the arrangements
for the use of his car. Cooper was the
one. who approached him, on March 14th,

Master Detective

Davis said, and told him that if he would
drive Albert Decker to St. Louis, he,
Cooper, would pay the expenses.

“I didn’t know whether I wanted to
make such a long drive or not,” Davis ex-
plained, “Later Cooper asked me again
whether I’d go. I said I’d think it over.
Then, on the night of March 18th, I got
a message that I was to meet Cooper be-
tween eleven-thirty and midnight in front
of the Grande Hotel. When I got down
there, Gene had Kenneth Caulk with him,
and Gene told me they were going to
get Albert Decker’s money. Just then
Albert, who had been waiting a few yards
away, walked up, and Gene told him I
was the fellow who was going to take
him to St. Louis.

“Gene got in the front seat of the car,
and Albert and Caulk in the back. Gene
told me to stop at the shack on my way
out of town. I’d: never been there and
they had to give me instructions.

“Suddenly I heard some scuffling in the
back seat, and Gene climbed over. I
stopped my .car, and Gene and Caulk
dragged Albert out onto the road and be-
gan fighting him. Then I saw Kenneth
strike Albert in the back of the head with
a crank. The crank didn’t belong to my
automobile and I don’t know where they
got it. All this time I was in the car.
Then Gene and’ Kenneth carried Decker
down to the boathouse.

“They were gone fifteen or twenty min-
utes before they called me to come down.
Decker was lying in the boat and there
were two cement weights and a hall-tree
in the boat, which Gene and Kenneth
tied to Decker’s body. Gene rowed the
boat and when we got to the channel,
Kenneth threw .Decker’s body into the
river. When we got back to shore, they

“ eC n

gave me $100. I was so scared, I nearly
died.. I’ve spent the $100 having a good
time—buying liquor, clothes and gasoline.”

When Caulk heard that both Davis and
Cooper had implicated him in the crime,
he grew wild with rage.

“They’re framing me!” he insisted. “I
haven’t even seen Albert Decker for seven
months!”

We put Caulk on one side of the table
and Cooper on the other. Cooper openly
accused Caulk of plotting the crime and
striking the death blow. The only effect
on Caulk was to make him want to throt-
tle his erstwhile friend.

Caulk held out for two days before he
agreed to sign a statement, confessing his
part in the crime. Perhaps by that time,
he had decided that he would rather plead
guilty to a judge than face a jury of
Albert Decker’s friends.

“T helped kill Albert Decker, but I was
drunk,” Caulk explained. “I can’t even
remember much about what we did. I
remember helping carry Decker to the
boat, but it was Gene and Earl who threw
him in. When we got back to shore I
think Gene stuck $150 in my pocket, but
I was so muddled that I lost it, some way.
The next morning, the roll of bills was
gone and I don’t know what happened
to it.

That explained why we had not been
able to trace any of the $20 bills to Ken-
neth Caulk, And it might have explained
why we had traced so many to Gene
Cooper. Perhaps Cooper had double-
crossed his accomplice!

On May 20th. Davis, Cooper and Caulk
pleaded guilty to first-degree murder, and
Judge John M. Rankin sentenced each of
them to life imprisonment in Fort Madi-
son Penitentiary.

_ The Specter in the Cemetery

that case,” he said. “You had better come
to the District Attorney’s office to
straighten things out.”

“Pll get my coat,” agreed Angela.

As soon as she had left the door, Piano
fixed the lock on the front door so that
it would not catch. Just to make it easy
for Deputy Sheriff Guilfoyle; who had
followed him to the house, to enter when
Angela had. gone;o. ; i

Piano waited*by*the door. No sooner
had: the girl disappeared into the: rear
of the house, than he heard a car drive
up across the street. He turned and saw

that it was Deputy Sheriff Raymond Guil- ©

foyle. : iS

Piano waved. “Wait. where you. are,”
he motioned with his hand, »

Guilfoyle nodded.

Piano slipped the ‘latch on the front
door, and silently pointed to.what he had
done. : :
“I’m ready,” called Angela down. the
hallway. She was a smartly clad figure
as she advanced toward the door, her dark
eyes flashing. :

“Let’s go, then,” said Piano.

As they drove off in the car, he looked
into the mirror on the windshield and saw
Guilfoyle get out of his machine and
cross the street. He smiled to himself.-

“Nice day,” he said to Mrs, Carlucci by
way of conversation. we tee oe

But when they arrived at the District
Attorney’s offiée, Piano was quickly ad-
vised that two of the key witnesses had
failed to identify Giallarenzo. pape

“That doesn’t look so good,” the officer

admitted. “But we’ve gone; so far ‘that’

we might as-well see it through. There

ought to be enough ‘red tape to ‘tangle

(Continued from page 17)

them up here for a while, at least until
we get a report from Guilfoyle.”

Angela Carlucci, of course, readily iden-
tified Giallarenzo as her friend and de-
clined to press the charge of theft. Martin
was busy assuring both- that everything

, would be taken care of, when word reached
him that Fred Brown had arrived.

“Send him in,” said Martin.

Brown ‘entered. He eyed the couple
at the District: Attorney’s desk. His face
was impassive, and Martin couldn’t tell
‘whether he had recognized Giallarenzo or
not, ;

“This man’s business will only take a
few minutes,” Martin told Mrs. Carlucci
.and Giallarenzo. ‘Will you wait outside?”

Angela smiled. “Of course,” she said.

Martin looked up inquiringly when the
door had closed behind the couple.

Brown gave a sigh; and sat down,

“T know I’ve seen that man’s. face be-
fore, but I can’t place it.”

“He was not the man who ran from

_the car, then?” .
* Brown shook his head. “I never got

‘a good look at that one. But. this man, .

I know I’ve seen him somewhere.” ~
Martin drummed his fingers on the desk
. top. Suddenly he leaned forward. “How
about. the. second car—the one that al-
most ran you down after the crash?”
Brown jumped. : - :
 “That’s it!” he cried excitedly. “He’s
‘the one that speeded away after he passed
me on the road.” ?
. Hardly had Martin time to digest this
information when Deputy Guilfoyle burst
in, his face flushed and his hat awry.
 “Tve got it, Chief!” he exclaimed. He
“threw a little bundle of pale blue slips
@ fhawhe ¢ Wah .

on the desk.

“Money orders,” said Martin, as he
looked at the pile.

“Read them,” said Guilfoyle. “I picked
them up at Mrs. Carlucci’s house.”

Martin ran his fingers through the slips,
and his excitement grew. There were
seven money orders. Four, dated between
July 3rd and September 5th, had dis-
patched $65 from Angela Ross to Alfred
Giallarenzo, .

But number five, dated October 2nd,

was addressed to Anthony Nadile, 900°

East 213th Street, New York City. The
sender was Angela.

THE next slip, for $25, had been sent by

Giallarenzo to Nadile. The last, dated
November 21st, was sent to Nadile and
signed Albert Di Lorenzo. Martin com-
pared the signature with Giallarenzo’s li-
cense, which was still lying on his desk.
The writing tallied.

“One hundred and_ twenty-five dollars
sent to some one in New York,” he mur-.
mured. “For what?”

‘Suddenly he sat bolt upright.

“An ‘installment murder,’ that’s the an-
swer! Angela and her lover get rid of
the old man by hiring a killer. ‘Tony
Gallo’ turns out to be Anthony Nadile.”

He reached for a telephone, °-

“Get me New York Police Headquar.
ters,” he said,

A few minutes later he had requested
the New York authorities to ‘check on
Anthony Nadile. When Angela Carlucci
and Giallarenzo were brought back to,
Martin’s office, they found a different kind

of reception awaiting them. Martin:

minced no words when he informed them

December,

of the cl
lodged ag

Giallare:
with an a
looked oi

- mouth wa

a sneer,
“You h:
charge,” hi
like a fil
Angela
from Mar:
Yer pocke
Later,
Martin se)
“Mike,”
yet to cc
case. [I \
York and
Giallarenz

HAT
City, :
Joseph G:
New You
whom Gi:
acquainte:
curred.
“Why,
on Septe:
sick and
Oswego,”
Piano’s «
had left |
“How
March?”
working 1
Gartlan
thumbed
to an ent)
“He wi
book.”
“Did y
“Yes.
doctor in
ing that
Piano °
address 1)
against (
“Tl oj
teered G
somethin:
Piano
they unc:
top shelf
letters, in

ACTS (
Month];
State o!
County

Before
Shuttles
MASTE
of the «
the date
March .
to wit:

1. Th
Publish:
worth,
New Y:

2. Th
immedi
more oO!
owners

securit)
in a ci
other |
other s
5. T)
mais

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Swor


. in surprise.

torney.
-e been more
ed lips were

quietly.

» see him, he
ing the door.
ome warmth
the District
re him.

: replied with

to be hard.
aguely.
ghtened looks
they already

ut a hand to
Her face was
She seemed
ed dully.
to tell us all
1 back a wisp
|

orehead.
been married

i Cleft), attrac-
ow of the mur-
e told an amaz-
fficials—a story
joom of the man
e was in love

The Specter in the Cemetery 15

J

Martin held up a hand. “Wait a moment. Tell us about
this evening first. Who was here? What time did your
husband go out?”. ‘

“He left at a quarter past seven,” said Mrs. Carlucci. Her
face began to brighten. “With Tony Gallo,” she added. —

“Was there anything wrong with Gallo’s hand?” inquited
Martin.

“Why, yes,” came the slow reply. “How did you know?
He was here with a broken arm and asked my husband to
take him to the doctor. He stayed around drinking wine
with Joseph and they were joking and laughing together
when they drove off.”

“How well do you know this Gallo?”

“T know what he looks like, but I’m not very friendly with .

him. I never spoke much to my husband’s friends. When

. they came over I minded my own business.”

“Describe Gallo, if you can.”

The girl looked at Martin. “He’s a little taller than you,
or maybe just your. size,” said. Mrs. Carlucci. ;

“About five feet, four inches then.” mh

“He's dark complexioned, like a lot of Italian people. I
guess he was wearing dark clothes.”

“How did he get to know your husband?”

Mrs. Carlucci shrugged her shoulders. ‘“My husband’s.

business was his own,” she answered.

Martin nodded. “I understand,” he said. “However, there
are a great many questions that will have to be asked to-
night. Suppose we all go down to my office. By the way,
some one will have to identify the body. Who can: you

suggest ?”

“I cannot live without you,”
wrote this man (right) in one
of the letters that betrayed him.
Cold-bloodedly planning a dia-
bolical crime, he played a dan-
gerous game with love and death

“Joseph’s brother, Carlo. He leaves near by,” replied
Mrs. Carlucci.

One of the District Attorney’s assistants was sent in search
of Carlo Carlucci with instructions to take him to the morgue
and then to the District Attorney’s office. Carlo lived at
134 Gertrude Street, and when the news was broken he
seemed too stunned to speak.

“Who did it; who did it?” he asked at last, his eyes wild
with anger.

A’. the County Morgue on Montgomery Street, Carlo
clenched his fists as the attendants rolled back the
cloth covering the dead man’s face. “That’s my brother,
Joseph ‘Carlucci,” -he said bitterly.

A few minutes later Dr. J. Howard Ferguson began. the
autopsy. He found three wounds of entrance on the right

‘ side of the head, all located within a two-inch area. between

the angle of the eye and right ear. Little pinpoints of blue
powder dotted the rim of the wounds.
“Powder burns, indicating close contact with the gun,”

“said the Doctor as he dictated his findings to a stenographer.

wae he found that all the bullets had passed through the
skull. - aes

“Cause of death—hemorrhage and tearing of the brain
tissue.” He started to peel off his rubber gloves. “The man
who fired the gun had the aim of a professional killer,” he
told the detectives who were waiting for-the report.

Meanwhile Martin had arrived at his office with Mrs.
Carlucci. One of the first things he did was to notify the
local and State police to search their files for the criminal
record, fingerprints and photograph of Tony Gallo. With
this accomplished he turned once more to the questioning of

‘the dark-haired young widow. He soon learned of the

peculiar relationship existing in the Carlucci family.

Angela’s father, whose name was Ross, had died when she
was three years old. Two years later her mother married
Carlo Carlucci, Joseph’s older brother. When Angela was
sixteen she eloped with Joseph, thus becoming the sister-in-
law of her own mother. Joseph had always been attentive
to her, she averred, and there were no quarrels. She could
shed no light on any of Carlucci’s business connections.

Later, when Carlo was brought from the morgue to
Martin’s office, the authorities learned that Joseph had been
in the real estate business.

“He never mixed in anything shady,” said Carlo when
Martin questioned him as to his brother’s connections with
bootleg liquor or gambling interests.

From him, however, it was learned that Joseph Carlucci
had been married before, in Brindisi, Italy. He had left the
country without divorcing his first wife, and hadn’t seen or
heard from her in twenty years.

“You mean he was already married when he went away
with Angela?” asked Martin incredulously.

“That’s right.”

Martin turned to the white-faced Angela.

“Did you know that?”

The girl nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “He hadn’t
heard from her in years. We were both in love. I don’t
think any one objected.”

Had a jealous wife’s vengeance at
last caught up with Joseph Carlucci?
Martin wondered as he toyed with a
pencil.

Then he went on with the question-
ing. Before the session was over he
‘learned that the victim had $5,000 in
the bank, and $2,000 insurance, pay-
able to his wife. But as to motive for
the killing, nothing could be learned.

It was nearly dawn before Martin
decided to call a halt and go over the
evidence already in hand. After a con-
ference with the State Troopers it was
decided that Picard and Voigt would
be detailed to make a thorough search
of the cemetery grounds by daylight.

Snow lay piled in dazzling white
drifts and the Troopers shielded their
eyes as they retraced, as well as they
could, the fugitive’s path of the
previous night. It was slow and pains-

«a


16 Master

WATCH FOR THIS MAN.
He is Anthony Nadile,
trigger-man in the mur-
der of Joseph Carlucci.
Sought by the police for
the craftily conceived
crime, he was last heard
of in New York City

taking work. Luckily Voigt
recalled the names and de-
signs of some of the head-
stones he had passed in his
previous search, and using
these for landmarks they
managed to cover the ap-
proximate trail.

Their feet crunched into
the snow and their breath
steamed white in the chill air
as they made their way along.
The sun was reflected from a
million facets, and the glare
was blinding as the Troopers’
eyes swept the white expanse.
Finally they found themselves
back at the wire fence by the road. They glanced around.

“No luck,” muttered Picard, slapping his gloved hands to
his sides.

Voigt was about to nod in agreement, when suddenly his
eyes caught sight of a dark patch that looked like a lady's
black enamel cigarette case dropped into the snow.

But when Voigt stooped to pick it up he realized that it
was no cigarette case. His gloved hands tightened around
the cold metal of a deadly, small caliber automatic, the butt,
of which was barely protruding from the snow covering.

“Well, this is just what we want,” he said grimly,

Back at the barracks an examination revealed that two
unexploded cartridges remained in the gun, which was a
-25 caliber weapon. The other three bullets in the clip of
five had accomplished their murderous end.

The fingerprint men soon found that all traces of the
killer’s hand had been carefully wiped off. When the death
car likewise was found to be productive of nothing more than
confused smudges, the authorities realized that they had
little more than a name and a vague identification to mark
the fugitive gunman.

Inquiries revealed that, except to the Carluccis, Tony
Gallo was unknown in Syracuse. Carlo had a vague idea
that the man was from New York City, and it was in that
direction that the search turned.

Contrary to the usual practise of professional killers, the
gun number was not filed off, and tracing this number—
276954—soon brought to light an amazing revelation. It
was listed on the records of the Property Clerk of the New
York Police Department as being dumped at sea on June
24th, 1921! The year in which the foregoing events occurred,
was 19388.

GEIZED from criminal sources, the gun was supposedly

part of a shipment of contraband weapons that had been
taken aboard a scow and dropped into the ocean off Sandy
Hook, New Jersey. How then had it found its way into the
hands of a killer twelve years later?

The obvious slip-up that must have occurred, caused a
mild scandal in New York police circles, while the Syracuse
authorities found themselves more baffled than ever.

Investigation among Joseph Carlucci’s associates could
throw no light on any gang connections; yet from somewhere
in his past a man had risen to kill him—a man who seemed
to have drifted into the community from New York and
who had made friends with Joseph. Obviously they were
friends. Had not Angela said that they were laughing and
joking together when they left on the fatal ride?

As the weeks passed and no trace of Tony Gallo could be
found, the case seemed destined to be docketed as unsolved.
But Martin was not satisfied to take the easy course of letting
the matter drop. ”

“There’s something here that we have not uncovered yet,”
he thought. “We'll have to wait for a break.”

One day he was talking over the case with Criminal Deputy

Deteetiye

Sheriff Michael Piano. Eight months had passed and it
was November 15th.

“Funny thing,” said Martin as he chewed on a cigar, “but |

have the feeling that we never really got to the bottom of

the Carlucci case.”

Piano nodded in agreement.

“You're right,” he said. “There’s one thing that has been
puzzling me for a long time. It’s nothing much, but I keep
thinking about it.”

“What’s that?” inquired Martin.

“Didn’t you ever think that it was strange that Angela
Carlucci should have continued to live alone in that big house
after her husband died? After all, she is only a young girl.
It seems to me that the natural thing for her to do would be
to have gone back to her mother’s. But no, she kept on
going to Continuation School and came home every night to
that big, lonely house.”

Martin’s eyes narrowed. He rolled his cigar between his
thumb and forefinger.

“Mike,” he said, leaning forward, “you may be on the
right track. Suppose you check up on what Angela does in
her spare time.”

That night Piano sat in a car parked near the Catherine
Street house. No one came to visit Angela and the lights
went out early. The next evening, Piano was again on the
scene, as well as every other night that week. He noted the
license numbers of every car that stopped at the Carlucci
house, and checked on the ownership.

“Angela must be thinking of getting married again,” he
told Martin. “Three different men have been calling on her.”
“Keep on watching,” was the District Attorney’s reply.

The next week Piano learned that one of the most per-
sistent callers drove a Chevrolet car. The Motor Vehicle
Bureau reported that the owner was Angela Ross.

“That’s Mrs. Carlucci’s maiden name,” advised Martin.
“Stay on the job,” he urged Piano.

On the night of December Ist, the weather turned warmer.
Piano watched the mysterious visitor enter the house and a
short while later the lights went on in the upstairs bedroom.
The detective saw figures moving about in the room. Then
the lights went out—but the window remained open.

Piano decided to do a bit of spying. There was a private
garage on the street, and using the drainpipe to gain access
to the roof, the detective took up a position near the opened
window. So close was he that he could hear a man’s voice.
And he heard a woman’s low laugh in the mild night air.

The stranger did not leave the house until the next. morn-
ing. Piano, who had waited for him all through the night,
trailed him in his car when he left. A few minutes later, the
officer let loose with his siren and, coming abreast of the
stranger’s car, ordered it over to the curb.

The man at the wheel was a powerful, heavy-set figure.
His jaw was heavy and square, and his black, bushy eyebrows
were lifted in amazement as Piano motioned to him to stop.

The Deputy Sheriff removed one of his gloves as he ap-

RRL 2 Teen

m


e they had

green bush
The butt of

buried in
atched the
(| hand and
chief. He

1.
allistics ex-

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t had bored
’s skull had
of the pistol
information
ittle impor-
of the lethal
d. ;
rere discuss-
arough what
-anite-walled
B. Traver,
perintendent,

the murder,”
ly. “I have
may help.”
ysher invited.
related the
j seen parked
rith its dark-
e lovemaking
eat. “The de-
Lodge people
the washroom
ectly!” he fin-

rd. “What did
’ Did she have
curly hair?”

j look at her.”
, superintend-
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t still doesn’t
a.”
ano conceded
ss me a theory
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d as she is. She
yme guy nearer

”

sher concluded,
t rid of the old

a hunch and I
sut I’m going to
ip.”

ral days in the
)ds of Syracuse,
yf the Carluccis.
jad nothing but
dead Joseph and
e for Angelina.
ry happy, Ange-
seneral concensus

*

re at an enforced
no and Mosher
oned the case and
ties. But the mys-
‘ei murder so in-
tt he resolved to
ime to it. .
‘noon the hard-
CRIME YEAR BOOK

working deputy closed his desk,
ambled slowly down Syracuse’s
Catherine Street, and called on a
trusted friend living near the Car-
lucci home. :

“Tf Angelina Carlucci has a
sweetheart, he may be the man I am

looking for,” Piano explained. “I’m |

going to watch her home from
yours.”
Every night for the following

four weeks, the officer climbed ‘to }-

his friend’s roof, settled himself
near its ledge; and ‘watched the
Carlucci home until dawn of: the
next morning. But Piano’s vigil was
in vain. , 2

The lonely watch gave Piano
considerable time for speculation.
He had talked to dozens of Carluc-
ci’s friends in Syracuse, but none
out of town. Suppose Angelina had
found a sweetheart. Wouldn’t there |
be less chance of discovery if she
met him outside Syracuse? Wouldn’t
a small town nearby be a safer
place for their trysts? Suddenly,
Piano recalled Nicolo Pantelli, who

had denied writing the letter which }

Tony Gallo handed Carlucci.

Piano found Pantelli operating a
refreshment stand near Fort On-
tario, ‘a wartime Army camp. Piano
presented himself to the proprietor,
not as a police officer, but as a Syra-
cusan in town for .the day. They
discussed mutual acquaintances and
became friendly.

Finally they came to Joseph Car-
lucci. “Fine man, Joe,” Piano re-
marked. ;

Pantelli grunted in agreement. He
knew him good. Joe Carlucci and
his wife often come here to Oswego
to visit relatives.” ;

“From what I’ve seen of Ange-

‘Jina, she won’t remain in mourning

long,” Piano said, winking signifi-
cantly. :

Pantelli rolled his dark eyes.
“You know, eh?” he leaned over the
table confidentially. “She meet her
boy friend here, she meet him at
my stand!” The man paused dra-
matically for the effect to sink in.
“They talk. They make. jokes. They
laugh. He make date. Carlucci don’t
know.”

“What was the man’s name?”

Pantelli shrugged. “How I know?
Beeg man, soldier’s uniform—that’s
all I see.”

“Do you think Angelina saw him
again after that first date?”
~ Pantelli shrugged once more.

* *

Bsa in Syracuse, Piano re-
turned to his nightly vigil on
the rooftop. Sometimes Angelina
was away,'sometimes she remained
home alone. But there was never a
sign of a romantic rendezvous.
Fall came, and then winter. The
nights grew long, and became cold
and bitter. Snow fell. But the officer
remained doggedly at his post. Fi-
nally, one night early in December,
almost a year after the murder, Pia-
(Continued on page 40)
CRIME YEAR BOOK

a

eaal —
The boss of the Skip Tracers
rarely leaves his desk in mid-
town New York. The great. bulk
of his investigation -is con-
ducted by telephone.

HE shadows had fallen aver

New York and the harsh illu-

mination of the marquees and

street lights below shone
through the window of the office and
fell like a spotlight on the electric
clock on the desk. Daniel M, Eisen-
berg, boss of Skip Tracers, took a
pipe from his pocket, filled it slowly
and struck a match.

The relentless whirr of the time-
piece was the only sound in the room.
Eisenberg sighed and made his way
toward the door. It was Friday, and
the boss was looking forward to a
pleasant week-end at his home.

An unusually intriguing “skip”
case had kept him at his desk during
the week and now that it was suc-
cessfully completed, Eisenberg was
anxious to be on his way.

He took one Jast look about his dar-
kened office and reached for the door-
knob, Suddenly, with shocking | ab-
ruptness, the door opened to admit a
timid looking woman, She hesitated

in the open doorway, while Eisen-'

berg switched on the lights and seat-
ed himself at his desk.

“Come in,” he said pleasantly.
“What’s on your mind?” Obviously,
the woman was greatly puzzled and
upset about something.

She straightened weary shoulders
and took a chair on the opposite ‘side
of the glass-topped desk and. turned
her purse uneasily in her hands.

(Specially posed)

by Dorrie Cotton

“It’s about my husband,” she said.
“['ye just returned from work and he
isn’t home.”

Eisenberg puffed on his pipe and
squinted at the woman through a
wisp of white smoke. “Well, what's
wrong with that? Maybe he’s gone

"visiting with friends or met an old

pal.” -

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” the wo-
man persisted, “He’s been gone two
days now, He’s never done this be-
fore, and naturally I’m alarmed.” The
woman had checked with all her

_ friends and relatives and had even

taken a trip to another citv in an ef-
(Continued on page 42)

—DID YOU LOSE YOUR
WIFE? — HUSBAND? —
SISTER? — COUSIN OR
AUNT? TELL IT TO
THE ARM CHAIR DE-
TECTIVE. HE’LL FIND
YOUR LOST SOUL
WHETHER HE’S IN KALA-
MAZOO OR SHANGHAI
— AND WITHOUT GET-
TING UP FROM HIS

_. COMFORTABLE CHAIR!


-fellow-deputy. In.
‘bled on a piece of paper, was the

ing gait, or any peculiarity that
would immediately jdentify him to
the police.. ;

Piano left Elm Lodge with his
his hand, scrib-

one-line description the customers

‘had given them. Here was a slim.

clue, indeed, to Carlucci’s murderer,

‘he thought ruefully. Discouraged,

the officer folded the scrap of paper
into a small square and placed it in
his pocket. :
* *
Peed same night the coroner is-
sued a terse report on the un-
timely passing of Joseph Carlucci
a we unquestionably the victim of a
murderer. Instant death had been
caused by the entry of three bullets
into the skull. ;

While the corpse still lay on the
dissecting table of -the morgue, the.
sheriff phoned the victim’s wife.
Would she please come down to see
him—at once?

Mrs. Carlucci entered the sheriff's
office with a timid step. She was an
exceptionally pretty woman. ‘Her
skin was olive-toned and her. wide
black eyes and full red lips had a
sensuous Latin charm. She could
not have been much more than
twenty years old.

When the sheriff related his trag-
ic piece of news, the slim, round
body of Angelina Carlucci' swayed,
her eyelids fluttered, and a tiny sigh
escaped her lips. For a moment it
looked as though the woman would
lose consciousness. But gradually
her body stiffened, and a look of re-
signed suffering darkened her
pretty face. :

With remarkable bravery, Mrs.
Carlucci entered the morgue and
identified the body of her late hus-
band. Twice a whimper ‘escaped her
while the sheriff went through the
identification routine. But the be-
reaved woman never lost control of
herself.

Mrs. Carlucci was about to leave
the sheriff when Piano and Mosher
returned from Elm Lodge.

“You can help out by giving us
some information, Mrs. Carlucci,”
Mosher began. ~ a

The woman nodded her consent.

“First, when did you last see your
husband?”

A sigh prefaced her answer.
“About seven-thirty this evening,
when he drove off with another
man to see some people in Dewitt.
He said he would be back soon.”

“Who was his companion?”

“~ don’t know exactly,” the wid-

ow said. “I’d never seen him before. -

He brought my husband a letter of
introduction from Nicolo Pantelli,
a friend of ours in Oswego.”

Piano was fingering in his pocket
the tiny square of paper with the
one-line description of the man
seen at Elm Lodge. Suddenly the
slip felt larger and’ more important
than it had only a few hours before.
oe man who came to see your

husband,” Piano interrupted, “What
was his name?”

“Tony Gallo.”

“Was—was he a well-built man,
swarthy, and dark-haired?” -

Mrs. Carlucei’s eyes widened in
surprise. “Why, yes,” she admitted.

“Can you think. of any motive for

our husband’s murder?”

“None that I know of.”

Mosher had been studying the
young widow closely. Her extreme
youth impressed him. He kept re-
membering that her late husband
had been a solid, bear-like man,
nearly fifty. “Did anyone ever come

like burning © ‘coals. Her
straightened;

“Are you insinuating .-- :

“No insinuation, just a routine
question,” Mosher soothed.

“The answer is no!”

“Then that’s all, Mrs. Carlucci.
Let us know if you hear anything.”

The woman, still enraged, tossed

her, head indignantly and left.
* *

IANO lost no time in sending out

an alarm for Tony Gallo, but the
reports showed that no man with
that name was on any rogue’s gal-
lery list. , ;

‘A check-up with the bus com-

cuse was equally disappointing.
True, a man answering Gallo’s de-
scription had boarded a bus near
‘Elm Lodge. He was traced
New York City, but there the trail
ended.

Undaunted, Piano communicated
with the Oswego police and asked
them to question Nicolo Pantelli,
who had reputedly written the let-
of introduction to Joseph Car-
ucci.

Pantelli, an honest, hard-working |

fellow, declared he had been a close
friend of the murdered man. But he
insisted that he lhhad never penn

the alleged letter. What was more,
he had never heard of Tony Gallo.
No doubt the man who visited Mr.
Carlucci before his skull had been
riddled with bullets had forged
Pantelli’s signature. :

Both men agr
search of the grounds surrounding
the spot where Carlucci’s body had
been found might be more fruitful
undoubtedly than
nesses.

Long before Syracuse business
people had commenced their tasks
and just as ‘fhe nearby chicken
farmers were feeding their flocks,
the two deputies arrived at the Or-
ville cemetery. The footprints they
had originally seen had been blot-
ted out by the night’s snowfall; so
had the tire tracks. But after fine-
combing the dismal cemetery
grounds for two hours, Piano and

. the ground.

weapon with his gloved hand and
laid it in his ‘handkerchief. He
smiled at his companion.

“A little gift for our ballistics ex-
pert,” he said.
* *

HE officers’ hunch was: correct.

‘The three bullets that had bored
their way into Carlucei’s. skull had
come from the parrel of the pistol
they had found. That information
was valuable, yet of little impor-
tance unless the owner of the lethal
weapon could be traced. .

Piano and Mosher were discuss-
ing ways of blasting through what
now seemed to be a granite-walled
a B. Traver,
superintendent,
entered their office.

“J just heard about the murder,”
“J have

- gome information that may help.”

“Let’s hear it,” Mosher invited.

couple on the back seat. “The de-
scription the Elm Lodge people

ave of the man in the washroom
fitted the driver perfectly!” he fin-
ished triumphantly.

Piano leaned forward. “What did
the woman look like? Did she have
dark eyes and black curly hair?”

“J didn’t get a good look at her.”

After the highway superintend-
ent left, Mosher leaned back in his
chair wearily. “That still doesn’t
give us: much to go on.”

“Not much,” Piano conceded
gravely. “But it gives me a theory
with no ,facts to support it. Let’s
imagine—I said ‘imagine’—a woman
such as Angelina Carlucci married
to a man twice as old as she is. She
falls in love with some guy nearer
her own-age and... id
7 . . 2? Mosher concluded,
“the two plot to get rid of the old

But these people had nothing but
kind words for the dead Joseph and
‘nothing but praise for Angelina.
“She made him very happy, Ange-
lina did,” was the general concensus
of opinion. ;
* *
INCE affairs were at an enforced
standstill, Piano and Mosher

temporarily abandoned the case and
turned to other duties. But the mys-
tery of the Carlucci murder so in-
trigued Piano that he resolved to

devote his spare time to it.
One dull afternoon the hard-
CRIME YEAR BOOK

working de
ambled slo
Catherine £
trusted frie:
lucci home.
“If Ang
sweetheart,
looking for,
going to \
yours.”
Every ni
four weeks
his friend’:
near its le
Carlucci hx
next morni
in vain.
The lon:
considerab]
He had tal
ci’s friends
out of tow:
found a sw
be .less ch:
met him o
a small t
place for
Piano reca
had deniec
Tony Gall
* Piano fc
refreshme!
tario, ‘a we
presented
not as a pc
cusan in
discussed :
became fr
Finally
lucci. “Fi
marked.
Pantelli
knew hir
his wife o
to visit re
_ “From
lina, she +
long,” Pi:
cantly.
Pantelli
“You kno
table con:
boy frien
my stand
matically
“They tal
laugh. He
know.”
“What
Pantell
Beeg mai
all I see.’
“Do yo
again aft
Pantell

ACK
turne

the roof
was awa:
home alc
sign of <
Fall cz
nights g)
and bitte
remainec
nally, on
almost a
(Cc
CRIME YEA


NEVER TRUST
A WOMAN'S
SMILE! :

(Continued from page 39)
no’s heart started to beat faster
when he saw a man enter the apart-
ment. The guest remained until the
early hours of the morning. And
when he left, Piano trailed him to
a rooming house. The deputy spent
the next few days making cautious
inquiries of other roomers about the

- Piano learned that the suspect
was Alfred Giallarenzi. A New
‘Yorker, he ‘came upstate in the
summer for camping and in the
winter for hunting. During his cold
weather jaunts he usually stayed at
the home of Luigi. Teminello of
Oswego.

Further sleuthing revealed that
Giallarenzi and a friend, Salvatore
Siciliano, had stopped at Temi-
nello’s in December, a year ago, and
-again in March — three days before
the murder!

Piano sprang into -action. The
Carlucci case would not bear the
label “unsolved” if he had anything
to say about it! The long night vigils
on the roof were beginning to bear
fruit.

The finger of suspicion was now
focused unswervingly on Angelina
Carlucci and her lover. Though Pi-
ano had no tangible evidence
against the New Yorker, he haled
the man into the sheriff’s office for
questioning.

Giallarenzi flatly denied having:
taken part in the ‘crime. He was a
bold-faced, somewhat handsome
Latin, with a fiery temper.

“Did you stay with Luigi Temi-
nello in December of last year, dur-
ing a hunting trip?” Piano asked.

“Yes,” Giallarenzi snapped.

“And weren’t you there the fol-
lowing March, just before the mur-

_der, along with a man named Si-

ciliano?” a

“No!” .

“Teminello says you were,” Piano
hammered.

Giallarenzi stuck to his guns.
Then he became silent.

‘By now it was apparent that An-
gelina Carlucci was in some way
connected with the murder of her
husband. As a result, she was ar-

. rested.
-“Do you know Giallarenzi?” Pi-

ano asked the attractive matron.
“No,” she answered, flushing
slightly. —- ;
“Your friend Pantelli in Oswego,
seems to think otherwise. Didn’t
you meet Giallarenzi while he was
stationed at Fort Ontario and you
were visiting in Oswego, and didn’t
you later have an affair with him?”
Angelina paled. “No,” she cried.
“Do you know Salvatore Sicilia-
no?”
“No.”
40

“A)]_ three of you weren’t by
chance sitting in a parked car oppo-
site the cemetery a few hours be-
fore the crime?”

“No... no’... no!” Angelina

screamed. .

“All right, Mrs. Carlucci. But I’m
giving you good advice. Get your-
self a lawyer—you'll need one.”

Meanwhile, Deputy Sheriff Ray-
mond J. Guilfoyle, while searching
the Carlucci residence, found re-
ceipts for money orders totaling six
hundred dollars. Checking at the

‘ Jocal post office, he discovered that
they had been sent by Mrs. Carlucci
- to one Salvatore Siciliano ‘in New

York.

By this. time Angelina Carlucci
had engaged a lawyer. The prosecu- _
tor called them both into his office
and waved the money order stubs
before their troubled eyes.

“This is sufficient evidence to
pring indictments for first degree
murder against you, Mrs. Carlucci,
and: the two ‘men,” he warned.
“Only by cooperating with me will
you be able to escape the chair.”

“What do you want me to do?
sobbed the widow.

“Turn state’s evidence.” ,

_ For three days, Angelina was ob-

durate. Then, having been con-

vinced that she could avoid impris-
onment or the chair only by “sing-
. ing,” she relented. In exchange for
complete immunity from prosecu~
tion and punishment, the sultry
beauty was willing to make a con-
fession she claimed would send Gi-
allarenzi to his death.

At first the prosecutor demurred.
He felt that the widow should not
be allowed to go completely free.
But realizing that the evidence he
had on hand would never win a
conviction, he persuaded a supreme
court justice to guarantee Angelina
Carlucci immunity in return for her

services to the state. °
: * * *

”

-BNGELINA talked long and loud-

ly.,In a clear, unemotional
voice, she related a strange story
that began far away, in sun-baked
Oklahoma.

After her father’s death, Ange-
lina’s mother married a man named
Carlucci. When she was 13, her
step-father’s prother, Joseph Car-
lucci, a successful Syracuse con-

itor at the Carlucci house. .
One night the contractor. asked

mother made a scene.
daughter — ruined!” — she

wailed. “What will happen to you,

Angelina?” —

In vain, the girl insisted that Car-
lucci had made no improper ad-
vances.

“Jt is a family disgrace!” the

mother stormed. “There is only one.
arry Joseph Car-

thing to do...

any money. For the last three years

of their six years
they had lived as
same house.

Angelina’s chance meeting with
the 35-year-old Giallarenzi came
like a rainfall after a drought. Tall,
powerfully-built and dapper, the

soldier cut a handsome figure in his
uniform. He confessed to the love-
starved matron that he, too, was

unhappily married.

They fell madly

in love with one

another, threw caution to the winds,
and managed secret trysts behind

Carlucci’s back.

But the clandestine lovers were
not satisfied with their occasional
stolen embraces. Day by day, Ange-
lina’s hatred for the man she had

married grew.

One evening, she

broached a bold plan.

“My husband has a bank account
of $3,000 and life insurance wor
even more,” she told Giallarenzi. “If
anything happened to him, I would

get it all.”
“You.mean

. ?? The man was

amazed — and frightened — by what :

she implied.

“Sure—why not?” Angelina ask- ©
ed, twining her arms about his neck.
“If we get rid of Carlucci we can

run away: and
gether.”

begin a new life to-

Giallarenzi hesitated, fearful of

the consequences.

“You are so smart—you can do it
easily, safely,” Angelina went on
persuasively. “My husband deserves
anything that happens to him after
the way he has treated me!”

Giallarenzi’s

lips

tightened as

tears started in the woman’s eyes.

Angelina was su
less woman! The

ch a sweet, help-.

protective instinct

surged within him, and involun-
tarily he clutched ‘Angelina’s arm.

Angelina pressed the issue fur-
ther. “You think of a plan. If we
need another man to help us, you

get him.”

*

* *

IN December of that fatal winter
Giallarenzi and a friend, Anthony
‘Nadile, also known as Salvatore Si-

ciliano, arriv

ed in Oswego. They

drove on to Syracuse, where they

called on Angelina. ;
Nadile, a plasterer by trade, was

tall, swarthy and handsome... —
The moment he laid eyes on. the

pretty young matron, his eager grin

betrayed ardent admiration. Her

beauty scorched

With some
brought himself
ness at hand .
Joseph Carlucci.

him like a flame—

and Angelina was at once aware of
the attraction she held for him.

difficulty, Nadile
to discuss the busi-
. . the disposal of

CRIME YEAR BOOK

Angelin
eyes soft
do the jot

Nadile,
personal ¢
ed,. “That

“You w
to touch ¢
is settled?
gaze befo:

“T'll we

ly.
Angelir
and sat d
All thr
discussin
Carlucci
it was d
drop in wv
from a ‘
afternoor
the contr
on some
would be
on the rc
In Ma
drove to
cuse. Th
lina and
cemetery

_- In the t

lucci’s w
fast eml
imagine

emotion:

T sev
Mar:
rang an
was Nac
bandage
“My
said. “I
lucci fre
“Won
Carlucci
“Angel
comer :
gruffly,
“Mr.
colo Pa
“Shall ]
Carlu
write, £
Ange:
had bee
“ ‘Thi
friend
“ ‘He is

* want to

his Jac]
a drink
Your f
you, N;
Flatt:
boomed
“Pour
turning
says yc
ace wit
on job‘
“Yes
My arr
“Hov
Jackso
“I'd
report
you dr
me?”
CRIME Y


re is only one
y Joseph Car-

g girl and the
or were mar-
(-headed and
of his wife’s
1 to give her
ist three years
* married life
‘angers in the

meeting with
llarenzi came
drought. Tall,

dapper, the
ie figure in his
d to the love-
he, too, was

love with one
a to the winds,
trysts behind

e lovers were
ieir occasional
by day, Ange-
man she had
evening, she

. bank account
surance worth
Giallarenzi. “If:
» him, I would

The man was

ned — by what |

Angelina ask- ©

about his neck.
arlucci we can
a new life to-

ed, fearful of

-you can do it
2lina went on
sband deserves
is to him after
ed me!” .
tightened as
woman’s eyes.
a sweet, help-.
itective instinct
and involun-
ingelina’s arm.
the issue fur-
a plan. If we
o help us, you

*

at fatal winter
friend, Anthony
is Salvatore Si-
Oswego. They
se, where they

c by trade, wa
andsome.. —
aid eyes on the
1, his eager grin
dmiration. Her
a like a flame—
t once aware of
ald for him.
ficulty,. Nadile
liscuss the busi-
the disposal of

CRIME YEAR BOOK

Angelina looked up at Nadile, her

eyes soft and appealing, “You will

do the job for $1,000?”

Nadile, infatuated and sensing
personal conquest to come, answer-
ed, “That would be enough.”

“You understand I won’t be able
to touch any money until the estate
is settled?” she added, lowering her
gaze before his eager one.

“T’ll wait, Nadile answered bold-
ly.
Angelina smiled enigmatically
and sat down next to him.

All three plotters had a hand in
discussing a plan of action. Since
Carlucci rarely left home at night,
it was decided ‘that Nadile should
drop in with.a letter of introduction
from a. “mutual friend” late some
afternoon. Then he’d suggest that
the contractor take him for a drive,
on some pretext, and the murder
would be committed in a quiet spot
on the road.

In March, Giallarenzi and Nadile
drove to Oswego and then to Syra-
cuse. There they picked up. Ange-
lina and parked near the Orville
cemetery: to discuss their final plans.
In the back seat of the car, Car-
lucci’s wife and Giallarenzi were in
fast embrace. It is not difficult to
imagine the infatuated Nadile’s
emotions at that moment.

* .& *

T seven o’clock on the evening of
March 15th. Carlucci’s doorbell
rang and Angelina answered it. It
was Nadile. His right arm was in a
bandaged splint.

“My name is Tony Gallo,” he
said. “I have a letter for Mr. Car-
lucci. from Mr. Pantelli of Oswego.”

“Won’t you come in? I’m Mrs.

Carlucci.”

-“Angelina’~introduced the new-
comer to her husband, who said
gruffly, “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Gallo has a letter from Ni-
colo Pantelli,’ Angelina ventured.
“Shall I read it?”

Carlucci, who could not read nor
write, grunted.

Angelina opened the letter, which
had been forged by Giallarenzi.

“‘This is to introduce my good
friend Tony Gallo,’” she _ read.
“He is A-1 plasterer, maybe you
want to make him better offer than
his Jackson contract. He may want
a drink. Okay to give it to him.
Your faithful friend who salutes
you, Nicolo Pantelli.”

Flattered by the letter, Carlucci
boomed out an order to his wife.
“Pour us a drink, Angelina!’”’ Then,
turning to his visitor, “If Pantelli
says you're all right, you’re high-
ace with me. How you break arm—
on job?”

“Yes, sir. I fell off a scaffolding.
My arm’s almost well now. .

“How about you work for me, not
Jackson?” Carlucci asked.

“I'd like that, but I’m supposed to
report at Jackson’s tonight. Will
you drive me out, .and explain for
me?”

CRIME YEAR BOOK

it.

“Sure. He only lives the other
side of Dewitt. Come. on—the car’s
out front. Angelina! Save those
drinks—we’re coming back soon.”

As the stock contractor walked
out, Nadile hung back with Ange-
lina. He held her hand and squeezed

“Money isn’t the only reason I’m

doing this job,” he whispered into.

her ear. Then he followed the wo-
man’s husband to the car.
* * *

HILE they were driving out of

town, Carlucci talked inces-
santly. As they left Syracuse behind
them, the snow blanketing the
countryside glittered in the dusk,
and Nadile could see silhouettes of
the Orville cemetery gravestones
ahead. Casually he lifted his ban-
daged right arm. He braced it on
his left arm, now pointing up the
road. .

“What’s that—straight ahead?” he ~

asked Carlucci.

“What? I don’t see—”

The sentence was never finished.
Three sharp reports rang out in the
lonely night air. The driver slump-
ed over the wheel, blood trickling
from his temple. The car wandered
aimlessly from one side of the road
to the other. As it careened crazily
toward the ditch a dark figure leapt

out, dashed across the highway, and

disappeared into the cemetery. —.
At that moment a car that had
been following Carlucci’s turned
around and headed back. Giallaren-
zi, satisfied the job had been done,
was now returning to the dead con-
tractor’s home. There he gathered
Angelina into his arms and pas-
sionately kissed her.
* *

N a brazen, clear voice that rang
through the courtroom like a

bell, Angelina Carlucci told the

foregoing story at the trial of her

ex-lover, Giallarenzi. With the fires.

of hate leaping from his eyes, the
accused listened to the testimony
that eventually led to his convic-
tion on March .7, almost exactly a
year after the crime.

That same day, Angelina Car-
lucci, -having served the state as a
material witness, walked out of the
courthouse a free woman. Her fel-
low-plotter and lover was sent to
Sing Sing, where a year later, he

kept his own rendezvous with death -

in the electric chair.
* * *

ANWHILE, Anthony Nadile

was still at large. Night and
day, Deputy Sheriff Michael. Piano
dreamed of apprehending the cold-
blooded killer, the triggerman in
the Carlucci murder. Nadile, ac-
cording to latest reports, was still in
New York City, and the restless
deputy could find no peace of mind

until he boarded a train headed for’

the Big City.

. Posing as a loafer and ne’er-do-
well, the canny sleuth roamed the
Italian sections of. the city. He sat

on front stoops and gossiped with
old men; he shot marbles with talk-

- ative high school boys; he lent a

sympathetic ear to the complaining
housewives who chatted on the
streets. A word here, a name.there,
and Piano soon learned that An-
thony Nadile, the man sought, was
courting a Bronx girl named Alena
Tosca. :

Now was the time to act—quick-

. ly! Piano communicated with the.

New York police. That night, a cor-
don of patrolmen surrounded’ the

‘house in the upper Bronx where

Alena Tosca lived. Promptly at eight
forty-five, Piano saw Nadile enter
the building and take the small ele-
vator to Miss Tosca’s apartment.
The sleuth crept upstairs and
knocked on the door.

There was no answer. The detec-
tive listened. He heard a slight
creaking sound, then the rapid scuf-
fling of feet across the floor: Piano
signalled the waiting officers. With’
them, he heaved his weight against
the door.

When it opened, Piano found him-
self in an empty room. He dashed to
an open window fronted by ‘a. fire

’ escape. There, at the bottom of the

fire escape, he spotted Nadile, .scur-
rying, like a rat, for cover.: Piano
lifted his service revolver. But be-
fore he could press the trigger, ‘the
man he had hunted so desperately
had disappeared into the black
night.
‘ * + * .
IX long years passed, and despite
broadcasts, “fugitive wanted”
handbills and word-of-mouth de-
scriptions, Nadile evaded the police. .
He had vanished as completely as a
cloud on a windy day: —

Howard L. Mosher was eventu-
ally appointed Chief Investigator for
the District Attorney of Onondaga
county. Now that he had been given
added responsibility, Mosher was
determined to clear up all the local
crimes that were marked “Un-
solved.” The first case that came to
his mind was that of Carlucci.  _—_..

Thumbing through the Carlucci-
records one day, shortly after tak-
ing his new post, Mosher suddenly
noticed a paper which the authori-

‘ties had added to the file only re-

cently. ;
“Nadile’s naturalization papers,”
the official muttered to himself. “T
never knew he was a naturalized
alien. I wonder-.” ;
Sensing that his discovery might
lead to a valuable clue, Mosher
phoned his old friend and co-work-
er, Piano. Still eager to follow the
smallest lead, they headed for New
York and the naturalization office.
The profits of their hurried inves-
tigation seemed small at first. All
they learned was that Nadile had
been married, and that his wife still
lived in-New York. Without hesi-
tating, Piano and Mosher visited her
and asked for assistance.
“T haven’t seen Anthony in years,”

PY ses |


Braunlich—Mrs. Elsa Braunlich, the detective repeated to
Anna was a pretty girl with a generous, himself. That was a German name; its possessor answered the
trusting nature. She had come hopefully to description of the victim, and she owned the land on which the
America to get a job in domestic service. body was found. But the real estate man had seen her two months
before while the skeleton had lain in the woods for six months
at least.

Upon his arrival in the city Roddy went directly to the apart-
ment of Mrs. Braunlich on East Tenth street, Manhattan. Ringing
the bell for several minutes, he got no answer and inquired next
door. There a woman neighbor told him:

“Mrs. Braunlich has been away for almost two months. I
don’t know where she went.”

“Where is her husband ?”

“I have never seen him,” the woman replied.

Detective Roddy next went down to the offices of the German
consulate at 17 Battery Place, where he laid the facts of the case
before Consul General Karl Benz, a typical official of the pre-
Hitler era.

“Otto Schomm—Altona,” murmured Benz, repeating the words
Roddy had copied from the’sales slip found in the victim’s dress
pocket. Then the consul reached for a German atlas.

“Here it is!” he announced a few moments later. “Altona is a
town in Schleswig-Holstein, Germany. I shall send a cable at
once to the local police there and ask if they know of an Otto
Schomm.”

“Better give them all the facts,” suggested Roddy. “Perhaps
they can tell us something about ‘A. L.’”

Benz dispatched the cable and three hours later an acknowl-
edgment was received with the curt advice: “Investigating.”
Roddy and the consul. waited patiently at the offices. It was not
until late that evening, however, when the Altona police depart-
ment’s full report arrived. It said in effect that Otto Schommer
was a hardware dealer with a shop on Koenig street, Altona. In
February of the previous year he had sold to one Anna Luther of
Weida, Saxony, a varity of household goods. The Altona police
had located one Adolph Wuerl, a tailor, who had known Anna
Luther. The tailor reported Fraulein Luther had married an Otto
Mueller in February and sailed with him for the United States on
the Amerika. She had told friends her temporary address in this
country would be the home of Mr. and Mrs. Hans Kurtz in the
200 block of South Sixth street, Brooklyn.

“That’s good information!” exclaimed Detective Roddy
eagerly. “Without a doubt we know now who the victim was.
The sales slip indicates she was Anna Luther and the initials
of that name were scratched on the watch.”

“Do you want me to check further?” asked the consul.

“Not right now,” declared Roddy. “I’m going to follow up this
lead.”

Hurrying to the Williamsburgh section of Brooklyn, the detec-
tive walked up South Sixth street, looking at the numbers.

But the numbers only went as far as 109! Puzzled by this,
Roddy. again consulted the address copied from the German cable.

fi Bowe a suddenly he realized what had happened—the street ad-
dress undoubtedly was correct, but there was a mistake in
the city. Hastily he consulted maps of nearby cities. The only
place in the metropolitan area where a Sixth street ran north and
south and the numbers ran as high as 200 was in Newark, N. J.
‘Darkness had now fallen but Roddy had no intention of quit-
ting. He took a ferry to the twinkling cluster of lights that was
Newark. Arriving there, he quickly went to the South Sixth
street address and found, to his satisfaction, the nameplate of
Hans Kurtz on the door of the frame house.

Kurtz, himself, stout, elderly superintendent. of a brewery, met
Roddy at the door and asked him in.

“Do you know Anna Luther or Otto Mueller?” asked the de-
tective.

“Ja!” declared Kurtz, fingering his blond mustache. “They
were a fine pair but I am wondering what has happened to them.
We have not seen them since last April.”

“Tell me just what you know about them,” requested Roddy,
and for the next fifteen minutes he jotted down the details told
him by Kurtz. ;

Anna Luther, said the elderly man, was a pretty blonde of 26
years, a sweet, gentle girl whom everybody loved. She had a
generous, trusting nature. Anna had come hopefully to America
to get a job in domestic service, eventually going to live with the

13


_ obtain from Anna’s father

Kurtz family in Newark.
While there she became
acquainted with a chap
named Otto Mueller and
in February proudly in-
troduced him to the Kurtz
family.

Mueller, said Kurtz,
was of medium height,
wiry and with a peculiar
undershot lower jaw. He
wore a heavy black mus-
tache.

Two days after Anna
had introduced Mueller to
the Kurtzes, she married
him at their home, with a
Newark pastor officiating
and Mr. and Mrs. Kurtz
as witnesses. Anna had
said that she expected to
get some money from her
father when they went to
visit him in Germany on
their honeymoon.

HEN on Feb. 10,

Mueller and his bride
sailed and the Kurtzes
heard nothing from them
until the following April
2. On that day, an-
swering a knock at the
door, Mrs. Kurtz found
Anna sanding there alone.
The bride said she wanted
to stay for a couple of
days until her husband
could get their baggage
out to Jamaica, Long Is-
land, where he had a
house. The only dowry
Mueller had been able to

was $400. Mueller had
been disappointed, to put
it mildly.

Two days later Mueller
came to the Kurtz home
in a great hurry and took
his wife away, refusing to
leave any address but say-
ing he would get in touch
with them.

“Did Anna say what ship she had re-
turned on?” asked Roddy.

“Yes, the same one she took across—
the Amerika.”

Roddy returned to New York now and
visited the offices of the North German
Lloyd line. There he learned from the
records that the baggage of the Otto
Muellers, comprising four large trunks,
had been carted to an address on Wash-
ington avenue, Hoboken, a densely-popu-
lated German district.

Crossing the river to Hoboken, Roddy
found that the Washington street address
was a warehouse. There he learned from
the manager that the Muellers’ trunks
had been transferred, soon after their
arrival, to an address on Woolsey avenue
in Astoria, Long Island.

Weary from his efforts, Detective
Roddy returned to Brooklyn for a few
hours’ sleep before continuing the investi-
gation.

14

Early next morning he set out for the
Astoria address, which he found to be a
small, two-story frame house. The detec-
tive stood for a long moment staring at
the name plate above the doorbell. It read
“Frederick Gebhardt.”

Gebhardt—the name of the man who
owned the property at Islip next to the
plot on which the victim’s body had been
found! Without further delay the detec-
tive rang the bell.

A woman opened the door. Roddy re-
moved his hat.

“Does Otto Mueller live here?”

“Never heard of him,” said the woman.
“Our name is Gebhardt.”

“Oh, yes,” continued Roddy, thinking
quickly, “I wanted to see your, husband,
too.”

‘What for ?”

“Well, I’m from the board of elections
and there’s some mixup about a man
named Gebhardt,” the detective said.

i]

High on a kitchen shelf the detective
found a box of .32 caliber cartridges from
which several were missing!

“My husband isn’t: home,” said the
woman. “He is at work over at the piano
factory. He’s a cabinet-maker there.”

“T don’t want to bother him at work,”
continued Roddy. ‘Perhaps you can let
me have a picture of him. That would
clear the matter up.”

“All right,” said the woman, “TI’ll get
you one.”

In a moment she returned with the
family album. She opened it and pointed
to a photograph of a man with a peculiar
undershot lower jaw. ‘“That’s my hus-
band,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Roddy, lifting the
picture carefully from the album and
placing it in his pocket. “T’ll be back in a
couple of hours with this. I'll take good
care of it.”

DARING

At last the
lution of the
had disappe:
husband. B
married to ;
Gebhardt.
beginning tc

Hurrying
the Kurtz
promptly id
hardt.

“Why,” s
picture of |
these days’

“T hope t
drily.

Back at |
he reported
Coughlin.

“This M:
Coughlin, '
Detective }
him up. But

DETECTI


' the detective
cartridges from
missing!

me,” said the
rer at the piano
-maker there.”
him at work,”
‘ps you can let

That would

oman, “T’ll get

rned with the
it and pointed
vith a peculiar
hat’s my hus-

dy, lifting the
ie album and
ll be back ina
I'll take good

DARING

At last the clues were pointing to a so-
lution of the baffling crime. Anna Luther
had disappeared with Otto Mueller, her
husband. But Mueller was apparently
married to another woman as Frederick
Gebhardt. The pieces of the puzzle were
beginning to fall into place.

Hurrying to Newark, Roddy went to
the Kurtz home where Mrs. Kurtz
promptly identified the picture of Geb-
hardt.

“Why,” she said, astonished, “that’s a
Picture of Otto Mueller. Where is he
these days ?”

“T hope to find out soon,” said Roddy
drily.

Back at Brooklyn police headquarters,
he reported what he had learned to Capt.
Coughlin.

“This Mueller or Gebhardt,” declared
Coughlin, “is our man, all right. Take
Detective Murray and the two of you pick
him up. But be careful—a man who would

DETECTIVE

marry that innocent girl for her
dowry and then take her out in the
woods and kill her in cold blood—
he won't try to bluff his way out
of a jam. He hasn’t got the guts
most likely. He’s the kind that
shoots in panic.”

At 3 o’clock that afternoon Bill
Roddy and Thomas F. Murray ap-
peared at the Astoria house and
‘Roddy, hand on gun, rang the bell.
Mrs. Gebhardt came to the door.
“Here’s the picture of your hus-
band,” he said. “What time do
you expect him home? We’d like
to talk with him.”

The woman snatched the picture
from Roddy and tried to close the
door, saying: “My husband was
angry with me for giving you that
picture. He doesn’t want to see
you!”

Roddy’s shoe kept the door open.
He showed Mrs. Gebhardt his
badge and the frightened woman
stepped aside.

Entering the house the detectives
embarked on an intensive search of
all the rooms. In the basement they
found four large trunks from which

tried the hasps and found them ail
‘locked.

“We'll have to get a locksmith to
open these,” he declared.
Returning upstairs the officers
went to the kitchen. High on a
shelf Detective Murray found a
box of .32 caliber cartridges from
which. several were missing !

“Anna Luther was killed by a
.32 caliber bullet,” observed Roddy.
“Let’s look for the gun.”

For the next two hours, how-
ever, they searched for the weapon
in vain, It was now dusk and
Roddy again asked Mrs. Gebhardt
when her husband would be home
from work,

“He should be here now,” she
insisted. “I can’t understand why
he’s so late.”

Roddy looked outside and saw a
group of newspaper reporters and
photographers, attracted by rumors
of a break in the sensational case. Some-
how they had learned of his investigation.

“With all this crowd around,” declared
Roddy, “our quarry naturally wouldn’t
enter the house. Come on, let’s go out
there.”

As the detectives emerged from the
front door, Roddy had one hand on Mur-
ray’s sleeve. A news photographer mis-
taking the second detective for a prisoner,

exploded his flash to get the picture.

In the sudden glare, however, Roddy’s
sharp eyes saw a white, frightened face
peering through the latticework of .the
porch,

Quickly Roddy covered the spot with
his gun.

“Come out or I’ll shoot!” he com-
manded. ~

The cowering fugitive emerged’ and
they saw at a glance that it was Gebhardt.

“What do you want?” he demanded
with forced bravado.

all tags had been removed. Roddy

“We want you, Otto Mueller, for the
murder of your bride, Anna Luther,” said
Roddy. “You’re under arrest.”

The detectives took their prisoner di-
rectly to Brooklyn headquarters. Half
an hour later, the sneering, defiant Geb-
hardt sat before Capt. Coughlin, Roddy
and Murray in the detectives’ room

Following preliminary questioning,
the Kurtzes, who had been brought over
from Newark, unhesitatingly picked Geb-
hardt out of a line of prisoners as the
man they knew as Otto Mueller.

But the man only sneered and said: “I
never have seen these people. before in
my life. I am Frederick Gebhardt.”

For five hours the prisoner withstood
the repeated questions fired at him by the
officers, steadfastly denying his identity
as the husband of the late Anna Luther.

Meanwhile a police locksmith had been
working on the trunks in Gebhardt’s base-
ment. Roddy had left the prisoner to be
grilled by Coughlin and Murray while
he returned to the house to search the
trunks,

Shortly before 2 o’clock in the morn-
ing Roddy appeared again at Brooklyn
headquarters carrying a large bundle and
entered the detectives’ room where Geb-
hardt still sat. Unwrapping the bundle
quickly, Roddy held out the contents for
the prisoner to see—two dresses and a
petticoat, both marked with embroidered
initials in German script, A. L.

“Why lie any further ?” asked Roddy.
“I found these clothes in one of the trunks
in your basement. You murdered Anna
Luther. We know how and why.”

Wild-eyed and breathing heavily, Geb-
hardt suddenly cried:

“All right. I did it. But I didn’t mean
to—I didn’t mean to kill her. I swear it !”

“Remember,” warned Capt. Coughlin,
“whatever you say may be used against
you.”

‘THE prisoner shuddered and slid a
hand over his eyes. “Guess you can
stretch my neck with what you have on
me already.”
And while a police stenographer took
down his words, Gebhardt continued :
“I was already married when I met
Anna Luther in Newark last February.

But I fell in love with her at once and -

she wanted me to marry her. That was
the only way she would have it, and I
couldn’t tell her. about my wife, from
whom I was separated. So I went through
with it.

“After we came back from Europe on
our honeymoon I got lonesome for my
other wife. After a visit I made up my
mind to return to live with her. I met
Anna in Newark on April eighth.
From there we went to Jamaica where I
had told her I had a house. I explained
I had been exaggerating and that I did
have some land out in Islip.

“We had a terrible argument but we
made up and stayed.all night at Jamaica.
The next day we took a train and went
out to Islip to look at the lots.

“While we were there in the woods,
I said to her: ‘Anna, I am married. I

[Continued on page 72]
15


Coroner Savage. On the prosecutor’s desk lay the
clues—the sales slip, the watch and fragments of
cloth from the dress and coat. He examined these
as they discussed the case with him.

“I think you’re on the right track,” Roddy told
the officers, “and for an additional reason. Notice
the letters ‘A .. , R’ on the regulator of the watch.
Our watches, in the same place, have ‘F ... S,’
meaning ‘Fast... Slow.’ But ‘A... R’ stands for
‘Advance ... Retard.’ That’s our tip-off that this
is a Swiss watch, for Swiss watches carry those ab-
breviations in French. But Swiss watches that are
made for export to America are marked ‘F... 5S.’
So we know that this watch was sold somewhere on
the continent of Europe. Most likely in Germany,
from the script in which the owner’s initials are
scratched inside the case. Now the next thing I’d
like to do is visit the spot where the girl’s body
was found.” :

Driving to Islip the officers took Roddy to the
woodland spot where the woodcutter and his son
had found the skeleton. Walking through the woods
toward the gully, Roddy suddenly stopped in amaze-
ment. There was a street signdirectly infront of him.

“What’s that doing here?” he asked, sharply.
Havens looked up at the sign ‘
which read “Broadway and
Twenty-Eighth street.”

“A realty company is develop-
ing this land as a residential site
but they haven’t got very far with
it,’ he said,

“Possibly this woman victim
was a real estate customer,” sug-
gested Roddy. “We'll have to
check that.” .

Anna was a
trusting nat
America to g

F-actin studying the scene of
the body’s discovery, Roddy
had officers drive him to the local
office of the realty company in
Islip. There he identified himself
and asked the manager if the un-
developed lots in the area of
“Broadway and Twenty-Eighth
street” had been sold.

Yes, he was told, three of them
belonged to Mrs. Elsa Braunlich
of New York and the others to
Frederick Gebhardt of Astoria.

Walking over to a wall map,
Roddy studied it for a moment
and then placed his finger on the
plot where the skeleton had been
found.

“Who owns this one?” he
asked.

“Mrs. Braunlich.”

“Give me her address,” said
Roddy, “and by the way, what
does she look like?”

“Oh,” said the agent, “she’s
about twenty-five, blonde and
fairly plump.”

Leaving the real estate office,
Roddy turned to the constable
and the coroner and announced:

“I’m going back to New York
at once. I want to see the German
consul and this Mrs. Braunlich.”

On the train bound for the city,
Roddy pondered over the various
angles of the puzzling case. Who
was the young woman victim?
Who had lured her to the lonely
woodland to murder her, and
why?

12


54

cropped white mustache outlined a well-shaped
mouth. Large hazel eyes regarded us quizzically
as we made ourselves known.

“Don’t you want to come into the house?” he
invited with a little close-lipped smile. “It will
be more comfortable than here. I can show you
the remains later on.” ;

The office was very small—one flat-topped
desk, two chairs and a filing cabinet filled it. On
the wall hung a huge gruesome-looking anatomi-
cal chart. Outside the room was a barnlike space
with an undertaker’s wagon and several boxed
coffins standing around the farther end.

We agreed that the house would be more com-
fortable on that bleak, drizzly afternoon.

Seated in cozy, over-stuffed chairs, we listened
to the undertaker’s story.

“It was Sunday afternoon when I first learned
of the discovery,” he began. “The weather was
mild, and we were sitting on the porch when the
telephone rang ’round 4 o’clock.

“My telephone rings pretty constantly, for I
have several side lines. I would hate to sit around
waiting for ‘cases’ to come in,” he explained apol-
ogetically. “Well, when I lifted the receiver, I
heard Dr. Savage’s voice on the phone. He’s our
coroner, and a great friend of mine.

““Nick Havens has just called up to say that
the little Schmidt boy found some bones in the
scrub-oak lots between Sayville and Brentwood
a little while ago,’ the doctor said. ‘He’s had a
look at them and says they’ve probably lain there
for years. Will you send a man out there with a
box tomorrow to gather them up and bury them?’
he said.

““Why, I can go right along now if you
like, Doctor,’ I offered. ‘Do you want to go
along?’

““*No,’ he answered. ‘Nick says the bones are
scattered all over the place. Probably one of the
patients who wandered away a long time back.
Since they’ve lain there for so many years, an-
other night won’t hurt them.’

“Well, there was a lot of truth in that. Nick
Havens is our constable and deputy sheriff. He’s
a pretty old fellow, but he’s very reliable. If they
were just some scattered bones, it wasn’t any use
making a big fuss over them.

“The next morning—that was yesterday—I
sent two of my men with a box and a shovel to
get the bones. I had a case down the street where
I had to deliver a coffin.

“Now I can’t explain it, but I had a hunch that
I had better go out to the scrub lots and have a
look at those bones before the men buried them.
I didn’t really expect to find out anything, but I
had my wagon out and before putting it up, de-
cided to drive over. I passed rny men on the road
and took them along with me.

“We called at the Schmidt house to get the
little boy to show us where the body was. Mrs.
Schmidt was sitting on her porch polishing a
gold watch.

“*That’s a pretty watch,’ I said to her. ‘A
present?’

“‘Well, no, not exactly,’ she admitted. ‘Johnny
found it near them bones when he was huckle-
berrying yesterday.’

“You shouldn’t have taken it,’ I told her. ‘You
should have left everything as was.’ But it seems
that Nick had told her it was all right. However,
I made her give me the watch, and in it was a
blurred bit of a photograph and the initials ‘A.L.’
scratched on the case. ‘Why, this may even lead
to the identity of the body,’ I told her.

“She gave up the watch reluctantly, and called
to Johnny to accompany us.”

Here Murray interrupted the recital.

“How did the kid come to find the bones?” he
asked. “What.was he doing there?”

“He’d gone berrying Sunday afternoon,” Mr.
Dailey explained. “His mother had some friend

Y Age Ope eee
drank :the water, he looked
itchen over thoroughly, then °
iced the towel initialed “A,t.”


in and she had given him a pail and sent
him out to give him something to do.
She had told him to fill the pail for sup-
per and she would give him a dime. An
hour later he came screeching back that
he had found a skeleton in the woods.
They all went out and looked at it. Then
they went down to their next door neigh-
bor, John Parks, who lives about a half
a mile away, and he carried the informa-
tion to Nick Havens in Brookville. Nick
called up the coroner after he had viewed
the bones, and the coroner called me up
as I explained to you.”

“Well, then, when you arrived at the
spot what did you find?” I asked.

“The skull was lying a couple of feet
away from the rest of the body. You
could see the foxes had been busy at it,
and the scrub fire of last July had burned
all around it—but, funny thing, it hadn’t
hurt the body much. I picked up the
skull, which had some flaxen blonde
hair on it, and I heard something
fall. I thought it was a trinket or some-
thing.

“Though the clothes were faded from
the rains and the snows, and the shoes
had been gnawed by the foxes, I could
tell that they had been smart clothes—
too elaborate to belong to any of the pa-
tients at Islip Asylum.

“Some poor woman who had wan-
dered into the scrub and gotten lost, I
figured at first. Then I found that the
little thing which had fallen out when I
lifted the skull was a bullet. That nat-
urally suggested murder. But the bullet
hole in the forehead didn’t cover a vital
spot, so it was possible the poor thing
had committed suicide, had crawled for
quite a bit and died from loss of blood.”

“Then how is it that you have publicly
declared that it is murder? How did the
coroner come to send in that report to
headquarters?” Murray demanded.

“Wait a bit; I haven’t finished,” the
undertaker said calmly. “We looked all
around and picked up everything that
seemed connected with the body. We
carried the skeleton and the clothes and
a bracelet and a little lavaliere which
had evidently been around her neck, to
the wagon.

“I made a more careful examination
here. I found another bullet embedded
in the back of the skull. Now it is prac-
tically an impossibility for anybody to
fire a bullet into the back of his skull,”
he finished triumphantly.

“That’s so,” I agreed. “Let’s have a
look at it.”

The haze had become a heavy drizzle
while we talked, and though the under-
taking establishment was only a few
steps away from the house, the clammy
mist penetrated our clothes before we
entered the place of the dead.

In a pine coffin on a trestle, the re-
mains of the mysterious blonde woman
had been laid. Nothing but bones with
a few locks of curly flaxen hair, bound
about the skull with grisly coquettish-
ness by black velvet ribbon, a fashion-
ably cut coat of rich material, a silk
blouse, and remnants of fluffy under-
wear, filled the last resting place of the
unknown.

On a small table which stood beside
the coffin was a box containing various
articles: a silver thimble, a pair of folding
scissors, a small (Continued on page 76)

55


76

THE SKELETON AT CENTRAL ISLIP

(Continued from page 55) piece of paper.

“Those are the things which I took out of
her pocket.’ Mr. Dailey explained.

I selected the paper and looked at it
closely. It was some sort of billhead, but
the print had been almost entirely oblit-
erated.

“Looks like a bill for goods,” I said half
to myselt.

“Yes. that’s what it is,” Dailey retorted.
“The firm name seems to be Koches and
Fein. There is a store near the asylum that
used to belong to a man by the name of
Koch, and he sold out to a man named Fein.
I took it over there but Fein tells me that
it is only a coincidence. It isn’t their bill-
head. It comes from Germany.” He stopped
for a minute, then, reaching out, he gently
but emphatically took the piece of paper
from me.

“Dr. Savage is sending that to the Ger-
man minister to-night,” he advised. “Hands
off our clues,’ he implied without words.

It was rather plain that though Mr.
Dailey was very obliging and polite, he
didn’t altogether appreciate our offer of as-
sistance. Without any superintuition I
sensed that the officials of the Village of
Islip felt that they were quite capable of
handling their own murder.

I didn’t want to antagonize the man, so
without further remarks I was about to
turn away when I spied a label on the coat
at the neck.

“You don’t mind if I take this?” I re-
quested quietly, and proceeded without per-
mission te rip off the tag. “We want
something to work on, you know. Don’t want
to return to headquarters empty-handed.”

This bit of sarcasm passed unheeded.

“By the way. I heard that there was a
very noisy party passing through Brookville
last. Thanksgiving Eve with a woman
screaming tor help,” I remarked.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” Mr. Dailey re-
plied in an offhand sort of way. “There was
a lot of talk about it at the time. We are
quiet folks around here. Much inclined to
mind our own business. But that party
passed right through the village.

“Nobody ever connected any idea of
murder with it at the time.”

“Well, if veu will give me a

you can do to clear them up if you don't
take the right tack.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “but how are we
going to identify the remains if we don’t
advertise them?” he asked triumphantly.

Something in his voice stopped us just
as we were about to leave.

“Who’s going to identify a skeleton?”
Murray must have caught the same tone as
myself, for he put the question as an insinu-
ating taunt.

“Well, aman and a woman came here this
morning from New Jersey,” he said, swal-
lowing the bait. “They woudn't tell me
who they were, but from the way they
whispered together I guessed they suspected
who she was.”

This was a most important piece of in-
formation, and we had almost missed it.
Of one thing I was sure, and that was that
Dailey knew more than he had told us.

“How did you know they came from New
Jersey?” Murray asked.

“Well, they wanted to see Dr. Savage,
and he was out on a case,” he reluctantly
admitted. “The woman, without thinking,
said they had come all the way over from
Jersey and didn’t want to go back without
seeing him. But they didn’t want the re-
porters to get on to them, so they said they
would come over again. Just then a young
man came in and they jumped in their car
and hurried off.”

“Did you take the number?” I asked.

“Yes, I did.” he admitted. “I wrote it
down. Here it is.”

He entered his small office and picked up
a scrap of paper which was weighted down
on his desk by a whisky glass full of buck-
shot. Murray, who had followed him, took
a notebook out of his pocket and, glancing
at the inscription Dailey showed him,
copied it down. “Much obliged again,” I
heard him say. “That all you can tell us?”

“Everything,” the undertaker returned
shortly.

“Well, goodby.” We shook hands with
the amateur sleuth and made a wild dash
for the train which was even then heralding
its approach with great clouds of smoke
billowing through the treetops a mile away.

“Cagey person,” Murray remarked as we
reached the station and raced over the
tracks.

It was filled with husky railroad laborers,
earthcaked and grimy. The plush seats were
dusty and damp, the air musty and malo-
dorous.

“Whew!” my companion snorted. “Let's
walk through and see if we can find a
better atmosphere.”

The laborers occupied the two front
coaches exclusively. Farther back we could
glimpse plenty of empty seats and a better
class of passengers,

Sitting in the third seat of the third car
was a tall dark man, dressed in correct
afternoon clothes—stripecd trousers, black
cutaway coat, and silk hat. Somebody going
to a late afternoon wedding, was the idea
which flashed through my mind. Suddenly
I sensed something vaguely familiar about
his face.

“Well, what do you think of that!” Murray
said to me in an undertone as we sank into
one of the clammy plush seats. “Did you
pipe the lunchroom Romeo?”

As a matter of fact. the man had com-
pletely passed from my mind. “I'd like to
know where he is going all dolled up in
Fifth Avenue duds,” I remarked.

“Uh-huh,” Murray grunted. “Seeking new
fields to conquer, maybe. Well, let's see the
description of what Mr. Dailey calls the
remains,”

He took the typewritten sheet from his
inner breast pocket. and after glancing over
it with concentrated swiftness he gave it to
me with a chuckle.

“For an amateur sleuth Charles Dailey is
pretty good. I don't believe he has missed
anything—but there's a lot here that he
didn’t mention.” He startled a quaint little
old lady across the aisle from us as he gave
a short, sharp laugh,

The description was comprehensive. It
read:

On subjecting the skull to a most careful
scrutiny I found the place where the bullet
had entered to be on the right side in front
of the ear and at the point where the jaw-
bone hinges. The course of this bullet was
not easy to follow. Another bullet had been
fired into the rear of the skull.

I made a careful examination of the cloth-
ing and teeth. There were twelve of the lat-
ter left. Bicuspid tooth on the upper left

side of the jaw crowned with
gold. Three front teeth in upper

full description of the body and
any identification marks you
found on it, I don’t believe we
will have to trouble you any fur-
ther just now,” Murray put in.

He had been roaming around
the place. picking up various
small articles and examining
them closeiy. In his hand he held
a rich silk automobile scarf.

“Certainiy,” replied the obligé
ing Dailey. “You are welcome
to this copy I made out. On it I
have noted every detail. I am
sure I missed nothing.”

“That's good.” Murray thanked
him, reaching for the typewrit-
ten slip. “We just have time to
make the 4:30 train and get in
our report. Thanks for your
help. Keep in touch with us,
won't you, and we'll let you
know how we are getting along.”

“Surely,” the other replied.

“Do you think it is advisable

to let the newspapers keep such
close touch with what you are
doing. though?” I hinted. “Won't
it give the murderer a chance to
make a getaway?”

You have to be so darned care-
ful in dealing with “local” au-
thorities. They’ are jealous of
their rights. and they can do
more to gum up the works than

.

[>

fiLocan |

jaw. had been filled; one had
been filled twice with amalgam
and the other two once each:
malformed teeth in lower jaw
setting in close behind one an-
other.

Clothes: Corset of black silk.
made to order according to local
expert who was consulted. Shirt-
waist of black taffeta with ap-
plique embroidery. Auto scarf
of tan peau de cugne. Shoes
size 4 or 5 (name of maker
obliterated by rains and snows).
Coat of black broadcloth lined
with gray satin.

Jewelry: Chain with locket
in which was diamond; watch,
Swiss, gold, heavily chased,
stopped at 12:30; watch has
various marks of jewelers who
have repaired it; small gold
locket with tassel of seed pearls;
gold bracelet with pearls and
diamonds.  Receipted bill for
goods printed in Krebel, Russia;
dated 1908: small guidebook
pasuee by Hamburg-American

ine,

I read over the list several
times.

“Woman was probably slightly
over thirty years of age, height
five feet, seven inches, weight
130 pounds,” Mr. Dailey had
written his conclusions at the
foot of the list.

“Well, that murderer wasn’t

-— ee +

afraid of lee

marked in

“Unless,”
dered the w

“When we
like one of
but we seem
ot clues. Haz
first.”

Just then
Centre and
hind and ahe
talk over th
as the train
the rainy du
ure trove.

The abunc
Why should
victim to su
many obvior
object had bi
seared off b»
would he no:
ish loot? It
hand, that a
about the scr

However, s
case was use}
at police hea
respective ite
Chief would
should take 1

“Koenigstrz
on the label w
the dead wor
some small
quarters wou
man police, s:
of the case ar
Missing Pers«
records for tt
woman withi
correspond wu
dertaker. Th:
trace the watc
on the little S
all dentists ot
scription of t

skull. Anothe
owner of the

The silk-h
counter, I not
and crossed o
side of the pl:
gers to a Bro
I followed su
Way to get be
bush Avenue
started to er
and when we
was obviously
lyn Bridge st
to a local. The
was his face p
window.

We turned i
about to leave
clear up at lea:
long to find o
Bureau if they
description fitt
unknown.

I found Car
bureau, still at
the Islip case
files, he told m
missing for a \
gave him.

I called it a

When I reac:
ing day I wa
Newark and in
or her husbanc
owner of the c
Dailey’s office.

The address
handsome hom
tial sections of
answered my r
Mr. or Mrs. W.
formed her th:


~d over the

orers,
s were

malo-

“Let's
find a

front
> could
oetter

id. Suddenly
about

liar

‘ray
into
you

ve sank
Did

a com-
I'd like to
| up in

rom

his.

|
let's see the
ley calls the
zlar ig over
to

careful
re bullet
side in front
I 1e jJaw-
iilet was
iad been

> cloth-
the lat-
per left
vned with
‘eth in upper
ih ne had
th amalgam
once each:
n lower j

jaw
hind one an-

of black silk,
ling to local
isulted. Shirt-
eta with ap-

Auto scarf
jgne, Shoes
1e of maker
{ snows).
lined

5S é

adcloth

locket
mond; watch,
vily chased,
watch has
jewelers who
small gold
| if seed pearls;
| 1 pearls and
| pted bill for
| rebel, Russia;
ll guidebook
irg-American

with

list several

bably slightly
if age. height

riches, weight
Dailey had
isions at the
derer wasn’t

afraid of leaving clues behind him,” I re-
marked in a low tone to Murray.

“Unless,” he suggested, “someone mur-
dered the woman meaning to rob her and
was scared off in some way.”

“When we went there first the case looked
like one of those impenetrable mysteries,
but we seem to be burdened with a wealth
of clues. Hard to know which one to tackle
first.”

Just then the train stopped at Rockville
Centre and passengers filled the seats be-
hind and ahead of us. It was impossible to
talk over the case any further. However,
as the train hurtled through the gloom of
the rainy dusk, I pondered over our treas-
ure trove

The abundance of clues was suspicious.
Why should a murderer, after luring his
victim to such a desolate spot, leave so
many obvious clues behind him? If the
object had been robbery, and he had been
scared off by hearing someone approach,
would he not have returned for his ghoul-
ish loot? It was not likely, on the other
hand, that a woman would be wandering
about the scrub-oak lands unaccompanied,

However. speculation at this stage of the
case was useless. The various departments
at police headquarters would receive their
respective items to be worked over, and my
Chief would direct me as to which step I
should take next.

“Koenigstrasse, Altona,” was the address
on the label which I had cut from the neck of
the dead woman's coat. This was evidently
some small place in Germany. Head-
quarters would get in touch with the Ger-
man police, sending them a full description
ot the case and requesting information, The
Missing Persons Bureau would trace their
records for the reported disappearance of a
woman within the past year, which might
correspond with the one given by the un-
dertaker. The Identification Bureau would
trace the watch repairers whose marks were
on the little Swiss timepiece, and circularize
all dentists of the better class giving a de-
scription of the dental work found in the
skull. Another department would trace the
owner of the New Jersey car.

The silk-hatted Romeo of the lunch
counter, I noted, changed cars at Jamaica,
and crossed over to the train on the other
side of the platform, which carried passen-
gers to a Brooklyn terminal. Murray and
I followed suit, as it was the most direct
way to get back to headquarters. At Flat-
bush Avenue we bumped into him as he
started to cross over toward the subway,
and when we entered the same train he
Was obviously nervous. However, at Brook-
lyn Bridge station Murray and I changed
to a local. The last I saw of him that night
was his face peering anxiously through the
window,

We turned in our reports, and I was just
about to leave for home when I decided to
clear up at least one item, It would not take
long to find out trom the Missing Persons
Bureau if they had anyone on the list whose
description fitted in with that of the blonde
unknown,

I found Captaii Ayres, the chief of the
bureau, still at his desk. Briefly I explained
the Islip case to hi: After consulting his
files, he told me he had no record of a girl
missing for a year that fit the description I
gave him.

I called it a day and left for home.

When I reached headquarters the follow-
ing day I was instructed to go over to
Newark and interview Mrs, Henry Werhuff
or her husband, who was registered as the
owner of the car which had stopped at Mr.
Dailey’s office.

The address in Newark proved to be a
handsome home in one of the best residen-
tial sections of the city. A neatly clad maid
answered my ring. When I asked whether
Mr. or Mrs, Werhui! was at home, and in-
formed her that 1 came from police head-

pags me

quarters in New York, she shrank back in
alarm. I took advantage of the opened door,
however, and brushed my way in,

“I think Mr. Werhuff is in himself, sir,”
she gasped, still regarding me with large,
frightened eyes. “Will you please be seated
in the library,” indicating a large, luxuri-
ously furnished room on the right side of
the hall. “I’ll see if he’s in.” I heard her
footsteps patter off into the distance.

I didn’t have long to wait. Before a min-
ute had passed, a tall, well-groomed man of
fifty entered the room.

“You have come about Anna Luther,” he
said without any unnecessary preamble. “I
mean, you are on that Islip murder mystery
case, are you not? I was just writing a let-
ter to the New York police when you ar-
rived.”

“Then you recognized the clothing and
the trinkets?” I remarked rather unneces-
sarily. The man had stopped speaking as if
waiting for a lead of some sort.

“Yes. my wife and I believe they belong
to a maid we employed here a little over a
year ago. She was a very superior sort of
person, quite above her position. Although
she never said very much about her family,
we understood that they were well-to-do
people who lived in Altona, a suburb of
Hamburg, zermany.” Mr. Werhuff moved
restlessly about the room as he talked. After
lighting a cigarette, he continued:

“You can understand,” he said, half-
shrugging his shoulders and tensing his lips
in a perplexed sort of way, “our reluctance
to become mixed up in a murder case of
this sort, and I hope that you will do every-
thing possible to protect us from publicity.”

After I had reassured him on this point,
he went on. “When Mrs, Werhuff and my-
self saw the description of the clothing and
jewelry found by the police in Islip, we
recognized it. The initials ‘A. L.’ sort of
clinched the matter. To make sure, we at
once went over to Long Island and visited
the undertaker’s establishment.”

“You say that this Anna Luther worked
for you as a servant until a little over a
year ago?” | asked,

“Not exactly as an ordinary servant: she
was more a useful companion to my wife,
She left us to get married. At that time she
promised to come and see us on her return
from a honeymoon which was to be spent
in Germany,” he explained.

“Did you ever see the man she married?”

“Yes,” he readily replied, “He called here
quite frequently. A tall, dark, rather fop-
pishly dressed person who was addicted to
a tall silk hat, striped trousers and cutaway
coat,” Subconsciously I thought of the
lunchroom Romeo. “This man claimed to
be an architect but was rather vague about
his connections. Besides, I noticed that he
had the hands of a workingman. I am rather
interested in hands; I always notice them
particularly. This man’s hands had peculiar
fingertips—rubbed smooth, sort of, if you
know what I mean.”

“What name did this man go by?”

“Mueller and Miller. He used both. He
said his right name was Mueller, but that
he often used Miller because Americans
found that the German form was difficult to
pronounce, I thought this was rather odd.
I tried to convey my misgivings about the
fellow to Miss Luther, but she appeared to
be desperately infatuated with him, and she
wasn’t the sort of a young woman whom
you could easily influence.”

I described the man in the lunchroom and
asked Mr. Werhuff if he thought he might
be the unfortunate girl's fiancé.

“That’s possible,” he admitted. “If you
like I will take another run over there and
have a look at him. Although we don’t
want to get mixed up in this more than
necessary, still we were very fond of Miss
Luther, and if there is anything we can do
to help we shall be very glad to do it. We
have a photograph if that’ll help you any.”

‘ee,

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LA

ration formed on his forehead. 1 saw that
the time had come. :

I nodded to Mahoney. Quickly he pushed
the ghastly photographs of the murdered
woman before him. As the man gasped
and started back with distended eyes, the
flatiron—still bearing the tell-tale stains—
was laid by the pictures.

{ was too much—more than his over-

wrought nerves could stand. Glaring at
us, his lips drawn back in a snarl, he
shouted: “Yes, I killed her! I got mad
and I killed her! I didn’t mean to, but
she drove me crazy—crazy I tell you!”

1 pushed the flatiron in front of him.
“You killed her with this?” He shrank back
in his chair, his bulging eyes fixed on the
weapon in horror.

“Yes, yes! I hit her with that!” he cried.
Throwing his hands over his face, he burst
into wild, uncontrollable sobbing. We
waited until he had quieted down and then,
under our prompting, he haltingly told a
strange tale of frustrated love that turned
to vengeful fury.

He was a millwright and carpenter, he
said, and accustomed to working hard for
his living. When he got home nights
he was too tired to cook his own meals, so
he hired a housekeeper. The housekeeper’s
name was Ruby Barton.

Soon after she came he fell in love
vith her. But he could never quite get
rer to return his affection. Just when ‘he
cgan to think she might care for him,
he would return home to find her gone.
The thought that she might have left to
eo with some other man maddened him,
und he would drop his work and search
until he found her. Then he would bring
her back and beat her.

At last he decided that there was only
one way to make sure of her—to marry
her. So he forced her to go with him
to Seattle. and have the marriage per-
formed. But once more his plans came to
naught. She told him that the ceremony
wasn’t binding—that she had never been
really divorced from her last husband.

This enraged him, for he thought she
was deliberately attempting to deceive him
so that she could escape again, and he
watched her more closely than ever. But
whenever the chance came, she would go
again, and once more he would be forced
to seek and find her—to bring her back
ind threaten and beat her. .

Many times she took his money, he said,
and sometimes other possessions as well.
“But I never intended to kill her,” he sob-
bed. “I only went to Seattle to ask her
to come back. But it was just like I
thought—always thinking of men!

‘As we walked up the steps of the apart-
ment house a young man was there. She
looked at him and she smiled. I knew
then it was no use. I lost my head, I went
crazy. I—”

‘Killed her,” [ finished up for him.

Yes, yes,” he muttered, passing his hands
ver his eves.

had the man removed to a cell. Be-
fore leaving, however, Deputy Prosecutor
\Walthew had him draw on a paper a
liagram of the murder room and the exact
spot where his victim fell.

As events turned out, it was well that
he took this precaution. A few days after
first degree murder charges were filed,
flendrickx completely repudiated the con-
fession he had made in my office.’ At the
same time, he began acting very queerly
in jail, leading us’ to believe that he was
roing to adopt an insanity plea. He would
remove his shoes and play for hours with

is bare toes like a baby, and he constant-

wore a moist rag on his head to “stop
the knocking inside.”

nstead of pleading insanity, Hendrickx
ehemently asserted that the confession

INSIDE DETECTIVE

had been forced from him by police. He |
had, he insisted, been in Tacoma at the
time the murder took place. But after
brief deliberation the jury brought in a
verdict of first degree murder with a
recommendation for life imprisonment.

As Hendrickx listened to the jury’s find-
ings and learned that he had escaped the
death penalty, the mask of stoical indiff-
erence he had assumed during the trial
dropped from his face. Open satisfaction
gleamed in his eyes.

For after all, life—even behind the bars
—was better than death. And no one knew
better than he how close he had come to
expiating his brutal crime at the end of a
hangman’s noose.

THE LOVER—AND
THE ASSASSIN

(Continued from page 31)

Martin at once got in touch with the
physician, who readily recalled what had
happened. He had given Giallarenzo a
letter to the New York Telephone Com-
pany, his employers, stating that the young
man had been ill. But this, said the doctor,
had merely been an excuse to permit Gial- .
larenzo to stay home from work that
week of March 15. He had not seen him
during that time.

District Attorney Martin and Mike
Piano all but hugged each other, and then
concentrated on Angela. After sixteen
hours they succeeded in convincing her
that her only hope of escaping prosecu-
tion for the murder of her husband lay
in telling the truth. Angela wept and bit
her knuckles and finally told her story.

She had met Alfred Giallarenzo not in
July, 1933, but in the summer of 1931.
They had met at Oswego, New York,
where Alfred was spending his vacation
as a member of the national guard. The
following summer he had returned to
Oswego, the friendship was resumed, and
they became lovers.

Since there was no hope of a divorce
for Angela, Giallarenzo had finally con-
cluded that the elderly husband must. be
done away with. For this job he had hired
Anthony Nadile, a New York gunman,
who agreed to do it for a_ thousand
dollars. Nadile had been introduced
into the household as Tony Gallo and,
after winning Carlucci’s friendship, the
final cold-blooded plan had been: launched
and accomplished. ‘

Giallarenzo had been at the prearrangéd
scene of the killing for the purpose of
aiding Nadile in his getaway, but the ar-
rival of the Brown car had frightened
Giallarenzo. He had driven away in
haste, leaving the assassin to escape as
best he might, by foot.

The widow said that Nadile had been
the man who ran through the cemetery
and stopped at Elm Lodge. Witnesses,
shown pictures of Nadile, positively iden-
tified him as the man. The murderer had
been paid on the instalment plan, and
postofice receipts were produced to prove
this. The money orders had been addressed
to Nadile at. his home in the Bronx.

Giallarenzo insisted that the whole con-
spiracy had been arranged by Angela, but
a jury found him guilty and he died in
the electric chair at Sing Sing on Feb-
ruary 7, 1935. .

Though she escaped prosecution, the
widow’s life has been a living hell, for
she fears the vengeance of Tony Nadile.

Her terror is tempered only slightly by
the fervent hope that Nadile, who yan-
ished completely after the crime, is him-
self dead.

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- we

te,

) on 2/7/1935,,;

"HUNT the KILLER wit

his little car through deserted '

Fis BROWN was trying to drive

Thompson Road, just outside Syra-
cuse. The windshield was . almost

frosted over, and blinding snow oblit-

erated the road.

“It’s a good thing we’ve got the
red tail light of that car ahead to
mark the path,” he said to his wife
as he gripped the wheel and peered
pe peas a small cleared space in the:
glass. gy

Suddenly he stiffened in. his: seat.
With an exclamation,. he reached. for
his brake.

The right front door of the light-
colored sedan he was following opened.
A figure came hurtling out! A mo-

ment later, in the path of the head-
lights, he saw the man with his arm
swathed in white. The tumbling figure
had sprawled on his face, but he picked
himself up, crawled through a wire
fence that bordered the road and ran,
He vanished in the shadows of Dewitt
Cemetery, adjoining Thompson Road
on the East.

Shuddering, Brown and his wife
watched the uncertain course of the
Buick sedan before them. It rolled,
climbing a slight incline; at the sum-
mit it rocked.

Careening backward with a frighten-
ing swish, it crashed into a large oak
at the side of the road behind them.

Brown started to get out, but his
wife called:

“Don’t, Fred! Please! I’m afraid.”

From_his position on the running-
board, Brown saw another car parked
a few hundred feet ahead. Pulling his
hat down against the blinding snow,
he ran to it.

“Hey, Buddy, will you give us a
hand here?” someone called from the

12

OFFIC (A &

Every night an automobile entered the driveway to the house of
the widow Angela.Carlucci. It was her car but she never drove it.

By William C. Martin

_ District Attorney, Onondaga County,
New York, as Told to

Gertrude Klein

second car. “I think there’s been an
accident.”

But to Brown’s utter amazement, the
driver kicked his starter before Brown
had quite reached him. He roared
away into the night! ;

Mrs. Brown was doubly worried
now. They were alone in this dark,
dismal spot with the wrecked car.

There was something menacing. Run-'

ning to meet her husband, she per-

suaded him to’get into their own car.

and turn back to Syracuse.

There Brown put through a call to
the State Troopers’ Barracks at East
Syracuse. —

Within an hour, Troopers Richard
Voight and Howard Picard reached the
light-colored Buick sedan in Thompson
Road. A man lay grotesquely sprawled
in the driver’s seat. In his right tem-
ple were three bullet holes very close
together. Blood still trickled.. -

Yates the wounds were so close
together that a quarter would
have covered them, there were no signs
of powder burns.

With his flashlamp, Trooper Picard
examined the dead man, He was mid-
dle-aged, olive complexioned and
stockily built. His smooth-shaven
chin was square and strong and, over

his wide-open ‘brown eyes, heavy
black brows formed an almost un-
broken line.

Voight reached carefully into the
coat pocket. He found 36 dollars in
bills, and a driver’s license bearing

the name of Joseph Carlucci, No. 641
Catherine Street, Syracuse, in the
wallet.
_ Trooper Picard lost no time in call-
ing his superior, Sergeant Perry, and
I was immediately notified from the
barracks. Not. much later, a State
police car picked me up, and we made
our way as quickly as possible through
the stormy night to the murder scene,
Meanwhile, Voight, who had re-
mained with the body while Picard
spread the alarm, observed a trail of

‘deep footprints which led into Dewitt

Cemetery. Exploring with his flash-
light, he crept into the ghostly stillness
of the lonely, . snow-covered burial
ground. There he found footprints
which, in the untrammeled snow, were
clear. He measured one and found
that it was ten and a half by four and
a half inches in size, a 9D shoe.
About midway in the cemetery, as
Voight followed the trail, he stumbled
upon’ something else. It was a .25
caliber Colt automatic. Three cham-
bers were empty, and as the officer

DETECTIVE

held the gun up to his face for closer
examination, he noticed the unmistak-
able odor of burnt powder still cling-
ing to it. After circling about half-
way into Dewitt Cemetery, the trail
led directly back to Thompson Road.

Shortly after 9:30 p.m., I arrived
at a spot on Thompson: Road (not far
from the murder car) called Four Cor-
ners. There were four garages and
filling stations together with an inn and
filling station known as Elm Lodge.
We used the inn for headquarters and
I-found a group of troopers, augment-
ed by Syracuse police, gathered there,
working on what information was at
hand: Soon Voight came in and pre-
sented his gun with a brief explanation
to Sergeant Perry. There was a stir
of excitement at the discovery of the
murder weapon, for here at least was
something tangible.

FEW of the men had known Car-
lucci, the genial, comfortably well-

~ to-do Italian, casually. Who, they asked

one another, could have wanted his
life? Certainly robbery had not been
the motive, because the bills in his
wallet and his jewelry were left.

What brought him to lonely Thomp-
son Road on a blizzardy night?

Mrs, Alice W. Sherwin, proprietress
of Elm Lodge, gave the troopers their
greatest help. She said a_ stranger
called at the inn that evening, not very

long before the arrival of the officers..

According ‘to our. deductions, the
stranger described by Mrs. Sherwin
arrived there within a half hour after

Why should the
handsome barber,
Alfred Giallaren-
20, go on a fish-
ing trip in mid-
Winter?

O8a


INSIDE DETECTIVE ;

for the purpose of preventing burns, but to deceive the
victim. The bullets that plunged into Carlucci’s brain had
sped from a gun hidden within a innocent-appearing mass
ot cotton and gauze.

But if the officers thought this discovery would lead to
the ultimate solution of the mystery, they were mistaken.
They had descriptions of the killer, they had the death gun,
but as the days and weeks passed they could unearth nothing
more, and the case was set down as another of the innumer-
able mysteries of the underworld. Joseph Carlucci had ap-
parently been engaged in some illicit business, and had been
executed because of a gangland feud.

There was one officer in Onondaga County who refused
to believe in this theory, and refused to let the case die. This
officer was Deputy Sheriff Michael Piano. He admitted
that the crime followed the pattern of the usual “ride” mur-
der, but when the authorities could discover no evidence to
support the accepted theory, Piano decided to tackle the case
from an entirely new angle. In October, 1933, seven months
aiter the murder, he received permission to conduct a secret,

them kissing in the car. He saw them enter the house late

‘at night, and saw the lights go out... .

Deputy Piano concluded that he had struck a possible
lead, but he had to withhold his hand. Were he to arrest
Angela and her lover and thus reopen the case, they would
certainly maintain a deep silence, and the police would be

- frustrated. If his theory were true that this had been a sex

triangle case, with the young woman and her sweetheart plot-
ting her husband’s death, then it must be established that the
love affair had begun before the killing, and not subsequent
to it. The situation, Piano knew, called for some neat
maneuvering—some sort of surprise attack that would catch
the clandestine lovers unawares.

The officer evolved a plan, and after seven weeks of patient,
painstaking sleuthing, he went into action,

He was sitting in his car on the morning of December 1,
when he saw the swarthy sweetheart emerge from the Car-
lucci home and enter Angela’s Chevrolet, Piano followed.
As soon as the sedan was out of sight of the house, Piano
speeded up, forced it to the curb, and peremptorily demanded

i

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“RIDE” VICTIM .

Joseph Carlucci had three bullet

wounds in his head, all within a

radius of an inch—yet there were
no powder: burns!

one-man investigation of the still unsolved’ mystery.

Piano's first move was to rent a room in a house directly
across the way from the Carlucci home, Then he seated him-
self at a window, his: purpose being to check on every move
made by Carlucci’s widow from the moment she got up in
the morning until she went to bed at night. He noted the
license number of every car that stopped in front of the house,
and checked on the identity of every visitor.

Within a few days one caller became the central figure of
the investigator’s interest.. This was a tall, dark, sturdily-
built man of Italian blood, whom Angela—she had reverted to
her maiden name of Ross—had apparently taken as her lover.
The pair were together constantly. When they went off in
her Chevrolet sedan, Deputy Piano ,followed them at a dis-
creet distance. When they attended the movies or the fights
at the Coliseum, the officer sat close by, preferably in the row
directly behind them. He saw. them holding hands, he saw

30

INSTALMENT PLAN

This is one of the twenty-five-
. dollar money orders the schem-
ing lower sent regularly to the
killer, who had done his job well.

PERSISTENT

Deputy Sheriff Michael Piano

was not content to let the

Carlucct murder go unsolved
—so he solved it.

s

to see the driver’s license. He saw that it was made out to
Alfred Giallarenzo, Piano’s investigation had already dis-
closed that the widow had purchased her car six months
before from an Alfred Giallarenzo, of the Bronx, New York.

“What's the idea?” the driver exclaimed. “I wasn’t going
more than twenty miles an hour!”

“Yeah?” Piano purposely acted stupid. and unreasonable.
“Let's see your owner’s license !”

Giallarenzo produced the owner’s license, which was made
out to Miss Angela Ross.

“Driving stolen property, hey?” roared Piano.

“Not at all!” protested the driver. “This isn’t stolen prop-

erty, officer! It—er—it ,belongs to a friend of mine.”

“You'll have to come to headquarters,” snapped the deputy.

“But why?”

“Until the owner says differently, we’ll have to believe that
this is a stolen car, We've had a lot of trouble with auto-


no
he

mobile thieves lately. You look just like the guy eres afte:

Piano took the indignant driver to the station. house, then to -

the office of District Attorney Martin, who knew of Piano’s

plan. Giallarenzo explained over and over, that the car be-

longed -to a friend of his, a Miss Ross. But he couldn’t. seem
to convince the officials.

“You don’t expect me to believe,” Martin said deviant, v7
“that any girl is going to let you have act car just on slight .

acquaintanceship !”

“You misunderstand,” said the prisoner, “Tt’s—it’s not se

exactly a slight acquaintanceship. We: re very good friends.
I’ve known her since July.”

July !-If this. were true, Piano’s icons would have to be
abandoned. Obviously, if Giallarenzo and Angela had known
each other only since July, then they could not have con-
spired the husband’s murder. Moreover, witnesses who
viewed him without his knowledge stated positively that Gial-

larenzo was fot the man seen running into the cemetery and.

later at the roadside stand. Things began to look bad for
Deputy Piano, who had insisted on the investigation.

CONNIVING LOVER

Alfred Giallarenzo, shown with his child by an earlier

marriage, was shadowed night and day by Deputy

Piano, who found the suspect always with widowed
Angela, and scented a love intrigue.

Piano took up the questioning himself. Just how close had
been the friendship, he asked. Giallarenzo replied that he and
Angela were merely good friends.

“Are you engaged to be married?”

“No.”

“Have you ever slept at Angela’s house?”

“Oh no!” Giallarenzo seemed shocked at such a suggestion.

“You’ve never been intimate ?”

The suspect said, very positively, that they had not been
intimate. Just good friends, that was all.

“And you met each other when ?”

“In July.”

The deputy and the district attorney conferred. They
agreed that the only hope of a break lay in questioning the
widow and then comparing the stories. Accordingly Piano
drove to the Carlucci home and informed the young woman
that her car had been stolen,

-and then taken her for a ride to Liverpool. She

“My car stolen ?” She looked at him blankly.

you. know who took it?”

Piano nodded. “We have the car, and we
He gave us the name of Alfred Giaitarénzo: fs

“When? Do

ave the thief.

Angela immediately relaxed. “Oh,” she said, smiling, “I
think there’s been ‘some mistake. Mr. Giall renzo ish't:,.a

thief! I.gave him permission to drive the car.

* “You did?” exclaimed the officer. “If that’s the case, then
everything will be all right. He told us he was a-friend of

always pull that stall when wé catch ’em with t

yours, but we had to make sure. You kno , car thieves

goods. Now

if you'll come downto headquarters and iden ify Mr. Gial-

larenzo, we'll fet him go. 4:
“TL be very. glad to,” said Angela.

Bur IT WAS to the district attorney’s

‘was taken, and not to headquarters. es

ffice that she

widow and.

Giallarenzo were questioned in separate rooms—not about

‘the murder, but about their love affair. It

as Prosecutor

Martin’s purpose to get everything possible out of them be-

fore they sensed the real object of the exami
Their stories, it quickly became evident, tall
They had answers for everything. They rem

ations.
ed beautifully.
embered dates,

places and events with uncanny accuracy. Again things looked
bad for Mike Piano, for the pair insisted that they had met
at the Paramount Theatre in Syracuse one evening in July,
and all efforts to make. them admit that they _ met previ-

ously proved | completely fruitless. Neverthel
persisted in his belief that he had struck ‘the ri
pointed out that their stories were too perfect.
bered everything so well, he argued, that they
hearsed their stories very carefully.

ss, the officer
ht track.: He
They remem-
must have re-

“Innocent persons would be doubtful about certain things,”

said Piano. “These two aren’t doubtful about a

nything. They

act as though they had memorizéd every answer.”

‘District Attorney Martin agreed. “We'll kee

p at them,” he

said, “Tf they’re lying, then I think we’re bound to find a

discrepancy, no matter how much they’ve r
stories.”

ehearsed their

He was right.’ The discrepancy at last developed.
Giallarenzo said that he had picked up Angela in the theatre

e, on the other

hand, said that it had been raining that evening, and that,
as she came out of the theatre, the handsome stranger offered

to drive her home. Asked if he had driven her
fore taking her home, she said that he had not
“Did he drive you to Liverpool?” asked Ma
“No. He drove me directly home.”
Martin went into the room where Gidtlifesaied
He put several inconsequential questions,
asked : :
“Where were you’on the evening of March
“I was home,” Giallarenzo answered. at oni

“You answered that question readily enough,”

marked with sarcasm. “If I were asked whet
certain day many months ago I would have t
while before I could answer. How do you happe
that you were home on the evening of March

“That’s easy,” the suspect replied. “I was h
pneumonia. In fact, I almost died.”

anywhere be-
rtin,

was confined.
then suddenly

15, 1933?”
ice.

Martin re-
e I was on a
0 think a long
n to remember
15>?”

ome sick with

“I see. Well, that of course explains why you were able

to remember so quickly.”

Giallarenzo smiled and relaxed.

“Tf you were seriously ill,” continued Mar
must have had a doctor.”

The suspect was startled, but quickly’ reco
“Oh, sure. Of course I had to have a doctor.’

“What was his name?”

tin, “then you

vered himself.

Giallarenzo wet his lips, hesitating. “Well—I just can’t re-

member at the moment.”

The district attorney hammered away relentlessly. Finally

his Sweating prisoner said that the physician

had been Dr.

Albert F. Merra of the Bronx. (Continued on page 47)

31

Com

The. man’s head was_ resting
against the back of the seat, His
entire face and the shoulders and
sleeves of his gray overcoat were
soaking wet with the blood which
still trickled in a thin stream from
two or three whitish-rimmed holes
in his temple and forehead.

Brown went back to his own Car,
explained the situation in a few
quavering words to his wife, turned
the car around and went back to
Mostiff’s Gas Station, which he re-
membered just passing.

The proprietor listened in aston-
ishment as the excited man rush-
ed in and telephoned to the near-
est station of the State Troopers,
but a few miles away.

“T’]] bet that man you saw run-
_ning through the graveyard was
here,” he exclaimed, after Brown
had hung up. “A fellow came in
here just a few minutes ago and
asked when he could get a bus to
New York. He seemed very excited,
walked back and forth a few min-
utes and then left.”

“Did you tell him about the bus?”

“Yes. I told him he couldn’t get
one for at least two hours. That
seemed to upset him a lot more.”

The proprietor repeated the story
to Troopers Richard Voigt and
Howard Picard when they drove
up a short time later. The troopers
relayed the information to their
superior, Sergeant John Perry, sug-
gesting that men be sent out to
cover the road while they them-
selves went on to the scene of the
tragedy.

The first thing they noticed,
when they entered the murder car,
were three empty shells on the
floor. This, and the fact that each
of the bullet holes was encircled by
a rim of powder marks, showed
that either the killer and his vic-
fim were both in the car at the
time of the slaying, or that the lat-

ter was standing on the running.

board.
The troopers gave scant attention
to the car, however, at the moment.

What they were interested in was.

Brown’s statement concerning the
man who had run through the
cemetery. Voigt suggested that his
partner stay with the car to see
that nothing was disturbed, while
he himself endeavored to follow
the trail of the fleeing one.

He found no difficulty at first.
The snow had drifted almost a
foot at the point where the man
had crawled through the fence.
Voigt. followed the shoe imprints,
after first taking the precaution of
drawing his gun. There were plenty
of gravestones and monuments be-
hind which anyone could hide and
take a shot at his pursuer without
being seen.

The long strides indicated that
the man had been running. Oc-
casionally there would be a higher
bit of ground swept clear of snow

12

by the roaring wind. Here the trail
would be lost completely, so that
it was necessary for the trooper
to circle the rim of the bare spot
until he picked up the trail again.

For several hundred yards he fol-
lowed it as it curved around and
led toward a state road at right
angles to the point at which he
had entered. Here there was a long

‘DEPUTY. SHERIFF MICHAEL PI-
ANO: With dogged determination :

he set out fo prove his hunch was
“right. The results were amazing.

stretch of cleanly-swept highway.
And here, to his disappointment,
he lost the trail completely.

On his return trip he used his
flashlight, no longer fearing that
it might make him a target for the
lurking killer. As he proceeded, he
swept the little circle of illumina-
tion to both sides of the rapidly
disappearing footprints.

From the unbroken field of white ©

the light caught and held a small
black object. Voigt stooped and
picked it up. It was a gun.

Holding it in his handkerchief,
the trooper “broke” it. Three of
its five chambers were empty. And
three bullets had ended the life of
the man in the car. The trail
through the cemetery had not been
fruitless, after all.

EN Voigt returned to the

scene of the murder, he found
not only Picard and Brown, but also
Sergeant Perry, Coroner William R.
Winne, District Attorney William
C. Martin and several other men
from the sheriff’s office. They had
gone through the dead man’s pock-
ets and found a driver’s license
and various letters and cards which
apparently identified him as Joseph
Carlucci, of 741 Catherine Street,

Syracuse.
“Picard,” Sergeant Perry  in-
structed, “you and _ Voigt: look

around the neighborhood and see

if you can find any other place ©

where the fellow who ran through
the cemetery may have stopped.
One of the deputies will stay here
to watch the car, and some of the
others will check up on the New
York bus. Mr. Martin’ and I will
go to 741 Catherine and see what
we can learn. We'll all meet at
Mostiff’s Filling Station. This fel-
low may still be in the neighbor-
hood. If you come up with him,
don’t take any chances.”

The two troopers saluted and
hurried off. .Shortly. thereafter,
Martin and Perry rang the bell of
a small, two-story frame house on
Catherine Street. A beautiful young

girl with black hair and olive com-.

plexion came to the door and look-
ed inquiringly at the two men. Her
face showed her mingled curiosity
and surprise when Perry intro-
duced himself and his companion.

“Does Joseph Carlucci live here?”
the sergeant asked.

“Yes, sir,” the girl answered in
a soft, pleasant voice. “He’s not at
home now.”

“Yes, I know. Is he your father?”

“My father!” the girl laughed.
“He wouldn't feel so complimented
if he heard that. He’s my husband.”

Perry hesitated. He shrank from
the task of giving the girl the
tragic news. She sensed something
amiss. A look of alarm darted into
her coal black eyes.

“Something’s wrong! What is it?
What’s se igual I told him about
driving out in the snow! He had an
accident! I know it!”

Overcome by her feelings, she
sank back in her chair, gazing ap-
pealingly at her two visitors.

“I’m sorry,” Perry said, “but it’s
even worse. He’s dead.”

“Oh . . . no!” Mrs. Carlucci
shrieked, jumping to her fect. “TI
told him about driving in this
weather! I warned him!”

“But it wasn't

cident,” the serge
“He was killed.
It took him a },
her understand ji
had occurred, Gla
agreeable, but ne
aries were over
rig to question.
Nf her husband’
the evening °
“Joe intend
night,” she aavies
lo came in about
“Who's Tony Ga
; He's one of
friends. They had
peti after Tony
ae i had recen
oer € said the
ting, and he
not drive him Ms
gta this done. 7 b
20 on account of

he would
s » aS Tony
friend. That’s Prigad

“Had y
Ou .
before?” ever se


ia small
yped and

dkerchief,
Three of
mpty. And
the life of
The trail
4 not been

ed to the
r, he found
wn, but also
- William R.
\ey William
. other men
e. They had
man’s ay
r’s licens
) earea which
1im as Joseph
serine Street,

perry in-
Voigt 100k
hood and see |
y other place
> ran through
have stopped.
will stay nere
ia some of th
_p on the New
tin and I will
» and see what
yy all meet at
ation. This fel-
4 the neighbor-
> up with him,
ances.
oy saluted and
yrtly thereafter.
rang the bell o
- frame house on
A peautiful young
dr and olive com~.
he door and looK-
o men. Her
mingled curiosity
nen Perry intro-
ndy his companion.
33 ucci live here?
ei answered in
“‘yoice. “He’s not at

e your father?
ee irl laughed.
eel so compliments i
L. He’s my husban a
ed. He shrank fre

*«1"
ner feelings, she

her chair, Le ap-
her two vis ci feo

” perry said,

He's a + carlucel

g in this

“But it wasn’t an automobile ac-
cident,” the sergeant informed her.
“He was killed—shot.”

It took him a long time to make
her understand just exactly what
had occurred, Glad that these dis-
agreeable, but necessary prelimi-
naries were over, he and Martin
began to question the girl concern-
ing her husband’s activities during
the evening. :

“Joe intended to stay home to-
night,” she advised, “but Tony Gal-
lo came in about six o’clock.”

“Who’s Tony Gallo?”

“He’s one of my _ husband’s
friends. They had some wine to-
gether after Tony had told him
how he had recently broken his
arm. He said the splints needed
resetting, and he asked Joe if he
would drive him to a hospital to
have this done. I begged Joe not
to go on account of the condition
of the roads, but he said, of course
he would, as Tony was an old
friend. That’s all I know.”

“Had you ever seen this Gallo
before?”

ty

JOSEPH CAR:
LUCCI was the ©
t victim of a plot
| so shocking it
defied belief,

ALFRED GIAL-
LARENZO: His
diabolical plan
worked like a
charm, until he
was picked up on
suspicion of driv-
ing a stolef car.

“Once or twice. I don’t know him
very well. My husband was like so
many men; he never discussed his
business affairs or his friends with
me and he didn’t like me to ask
questions. From the way they talk-
ed, I think Mr. Gallo comes from
New York, although I’m not sure,
and that he was only up here for
a day or two on business.”

“You don’t know where he met
your husband or what he did?”

“No. Joe never told me and I
didn’t inquire.”

“You didn’t hear them quarrel
together while Gallo’ was here?”

“No, indeed, just the opposite.
They were very friendly, laughing
and talking and drinking wine.”

Desiring to spare her the ordeal
of going to the morgue, Martin
asked. if she knew anybody who
could identify the body. She sug-
gested Carlo Carlucci, the slain
man’s brother. As the latter lived
but a short distance away, Martin
and Perry drove to his home and
took him to the city’s house of
death, where Carlo, amid expres-
sions of bitter anger and threats

(Continued on page 33)

* TONY NADILE: Had he known he |
- was. going to be double-crossed ~
he perhaps wouldn't have been so ©

willing to keep his evil bargain, |

rmance. But
d little time
s consterna-
° car at the
nary. te We"
“frst slowly,
erated speed,
ine.

ty

attention. His car kept rolling
downward.

A collision seemed inevitable.
But, ten feet away, the reversing
vehicle swerved almost at right-
angles to its previous course, plung-
ed into the ditch and lurched half-
way to its side,

Brown ran down to the other
vehicle. He wrenched open the

intended to Say was never given
voice. For what he was looking at
was not a drunken driver such as

he had expected to see, but a dead
one!

front door next to the driver’s seat.

Oe “You—” he began. Bui what he
r heard either

antic blare of
yy the panic-

me = P20 AN EERIE MURDER
wy the Panic: ay —— , CASE WITH ALL THE
INGREDIENTS OF A
« 4] MYSTERY THRILLER
| IS RELEGATED To
| THE "UNSOLVED"
M)FILE...THEN A].
DEPUTY SHERIFF.
GETS A HUNCH

4MAN


ind

ited
the
ieht

ion-
2 on
ruth

did
e we

nmid
make
at is,
yw is.
- and
ly at

idenly
men-

1idnight
ht days
suspects
’s office,
hem, his
piercing.
smirked
ale and
nxiously.-
‘e morose

Vander-
<now you
las when
ou’re still
you know

is Schmid
up to you
> you with
play ball
yest to see

pondered
eed Currie.
November

i the dealer
vas a black
). The deal-
yeren’t en-
g the ma-
‘n’t working
or, who was
oing it.

res with

CONFIDENTIAL FACTS FROM POLICE FILES

his hands and was visibly shaking.
He did not reply.

“When the first installment on
the car was due, December 23, you
had no money to pay it. Walker
was out of a job and broke, too.
So at his suggestion, you agreed
to hold up John Mayfield—”

Now it was Walker’s turn to trem-
ble. His eyes darted about like
those of a cornered animal.

“You have platinum blonde hair,
Whitey,” continued the sheriff.
“It’s long and fine, like a woman’s.
So it was not a woman that our
witness saw in the death car a
few minutes before Mayfield was
slain. It was you!”

Schmid let this telling blow sink
in. Then he went on: “Walker,

you killed the oil man. You had fol- -

lowed him before on his rounds,
and knew his habits. On that night,
you pretended to be a hitchhiker
and thumbed a ride with Mayfield
as he left the Oak Grove station.
He was a kind man, so he picked
you up—”

Walker sprang to his feet, shriek-
ing: “That’s a pack of lies! You’re
trying to frame us!”

Schmid smiled wryly and con-
tinued calmly: “We knew you’d
say that. So we started looking
for the gun. We found it this morn-
ing, hidden under a mattress in

HUMAN
DETECTIVE

rf

of vengeance, recognized the form
on the slab as that of his brother.

ROOPERS VOIGT and Picard,

in the meantime, had dredged
up some interesting clues. Comb-
ing the area within a mile or two
of the murder scene, they learned
that a man of medium height, with
dark complexion and black hair—
the description given by the filling
station proprietor as that of the
man who had asked about the New
York bus—had stopped in at a
roadside restaurant to get a sand-
wich and a cup of coffee.

The owner of the restaurant re-
membered him well...

“you couldn’t forget him if you
wanted to,” she reported, “I’ve
never seen a man act as nervous as
he did, He came in, asked when the
next New York bus would pass, and
ordered a cup of coffee and a
cheese sandwich. All the time he
kept walking back and forth, g0-
ing to the window to look out,
coming back as though he wanted
to ask me something put couldn’t
make up his mind, and then go-
ing to the window again.”

“Did he talk to you at all?”

“Never said a word after he had

your father’s house! Our ballistics
men checked it with the slugs taken
from Mayfield’s body and his car.
The markings are identical! Now
what do you say?”

-Currie broke first. Blubbering, he
made a confession which checked
in every detail with the sheriff's
masterful reconstruction of the
crime. mn

“It was Walker's idea,” he sobbed.
“When Mayfield picked him up, I
followed them in my car out to
the Old Dallas Road. But Walker
did the shooting. I started walking
back to Mayfield’s car, but it was
all over when I got there. Then
another car drove by, so Walker
hid on the floor while I ducked
down in the seat beside the body.
We got scared after that and ran
back to our machine.”

The sheriff had Currie’s confes-
sion taken down by a stenographer,
while he turned his efforts toward
Walker. But the slick-haired pris-
oner steadfastly refused to affirm
what Currie had said.

A night in a cell made him think
better of it. The next day, he made
a full confession.

“J once worked for Mayfield,”
he declared, ‘‘so it was easy to get
a ride with him. I told him I had
to get to the airport. On the way,
I pulled the rod we bought at a

pawnshop and poked it into the
old man’s ribs. When we got to
Old Dallas Road, I plugged him and
took his money. But Whitey got
nervous and in a rush to get away,
we dropped all but $27.”

Walker and Currie swiftly were
indicted and tried separately. On
February 6, 1940, Walker was found
guilty of first degree murder and
sentenced to death by Judge Grover
Adams. On March 4, Currie was
convicted of second degree murder
on his plea that he had been led
into the murder and did not fire
the gun, and was sentenced to a
term of ten years in the state pen-
itentiary.

Vanderpoel and Kenney, who had
testified against the pair, declared
that Walker originally had tried
to get Kenney to help him rob
Mayfield, but Kenney had backed
out. In return for their co-opera-
tion, they were. allowed to go free.
Late on the night of April 11, 1940.
with all appeals denied and all hope
gone, the still-defiant Robert Bal-
lard Walker was strapped into the
electric chair at Austin and put to
death. The cold-blooded murder of
the oil magnate at last had’ been
fully avenged.

Note: To protect innocent persons,
the names Herbert Vanderpoel and
Clifford Kenney are fictitious.

MURDER MADE TO ORDER

(Continued from page 13)

asked about the bus and given his
order. Finally he went back to the
men’s room and, when he came
out, walked to the counter and got
on the stool as though he were go-
ing to start eating. Then, without
saying a word or touching a bite,
he got up and walked out.”

Picard and his partner went back
to the men’s room, knowing that
such places are often used by crim-
inals to ditch incriminating evi-
dence which they might have on
their persons.

When they found nothing on the
floor, they looked into the flush
bowl. Floating on the surface was
a length of heavy gauze bandage
and another mass of the same
material made into a lump by a
dozen folds.

That the latter had not been in
the basin for any length of time
was shown by the fact that it was
still partially dry. What interested
the troopers more than anything
else was that this lumped gauze
had several indentations in it as
though it had been pressed against
three or four small, rounded ob-
jects.

“What do you make of it?” Voigt
asked his partner.

Picard shrugged. “I don’t know.
There isn’t any blood on it, nor
on the bandage either.”

He examined the length of gauze
more closely. “This proves that the
killer threw it in here!” he ex-
claimed. “Look at that.”

“That” was a_ series of smal}]
powder marks. Voigt wound the
bandage so that the marks came
together, thus disclosing the cir-
cumference of whatever it was the
gauze had covered.

Both troopers studied it, trying
to figure out the use to which the
material had been put.

“Pye got it!” Voigt exclaimed.
“You remember when President
McKinley was assassinated?”

“Sure, but what’s that got to do
with this?”

“It’s got this to do with it: The
man who killed him pretended to
have an injured hand and carried
the gun inside the bandage so that
he could approach the President
without being suspected. That’s
what this bird did, That accounts
for the powder marks. And it also
accounts for the indentations on
that wad of gauze. There’s four of
them. They’re the impressions made
by the killer’s knuckles.”

33


nee atistte”

Saat

DeWOLFE

’

pressed the whiteness of her pretty arm.
His earnestness and the concern in his
voice sent a crimson flood into her
cheeks.

“With the right man, what woman
doesn’t?”

He pressed her wrist with his fingers.

“But you have never met the right
man, yet?”

“Not yet, at least—” her eyes fell.

He looked searchingly into her deep
blue eyes.

“You mean that perhaps you have
met the right man, today?” he boldly
ventured.

She slapped his hand, playfully.

@ “DRINK YOUR beer. No nonsense,

so soon!”? she warned him, raising a
pretty finger. “Really, I have wander-
lust. I was watching that yacht when
you spoke to me. I was thinking of the
fine times I had when I was with Her-
man Sanders and his family,”

“You mean the multimillionaire
manufacturer of Germany?”

“Yes, did you ever meet him?”

“Well, not exactly, but I know him,
you know, by reputation. He owned a
floating palace, too, didn’t he, a yacht
built so expensively he made all the
American millionaires jealous?”

She nodded and spoke up eagerly.
“That yacht out there IT was watching
reminded me of Herr Sanders’ yacht.
My, what wonderful times I had aboard
it! Many guests, the best of beer and
wines on all our cruises, and even
though, as maid to Mrs. Sanders, I was
just a servant, I really lived like a
princess. Once we went all the way to
Mexico.”

“On a cruise?”

“Just so!”

He looked into his beer so that she
could not see the cunning look in his
eyes. “You must be pretty well fixed,
then, is it not so?”

“T haven’t done so badly,” she con-
fessed, laughing. ‘‘But I have invested
most of my money in clothes. I don’t
keep them piling up. When I have worn
them a few times I give them away.
Just like the rich, you know.”

“Are you still in service?”

“Oh, yes, Tam lady’s maid to Mrs.
Seligman, wife of Isaac Seligman, the

Arn, hE

“In a lonesome wood with heaps of leaves, | hid the murdered man!"

From "The Dream of Eugene Aram"

New York banker. It is a very good
position. I have one full day off and
every other Sunday and they treat me
with consideration.”

He called the waiter, ordered more
beer and then turned to her.

“You ought to get married,” he said.
“You are a very beautiful woman now,
but, in a few years, unless you get a
husband, you may lose your good
looks.”

“Oh, say! You are trying to tell me
that marriage makes a girl prettier?”

“IT think so,” he said, earnestly. “The
fact is, personally, I believe the full
blown rose is much more attractive
than the bud.”

He appraised her with a long stare.

“Don’t look at me like that. You make
my head swim!” she said.

“You are like a beautiful flower,” he
replied in a tone that caused her to
lower her eyes. “How can you blame
me?”

Thus passed the hours of their first
meeting and when they parted com-
pany, after the most circumspect of

companionship, Anna Luther was con-:

vinced that, at last, in the twenty-ninth
year of her life, she had met the man
with whom she could be happy.

His wife seemed plain and unattrac-
tive to him when he arrived home late
at their frave dwelling at No. 357

55


iller,

found it?”
idy, “didn’t
must have
to that of
was found.
forest—like

with you?”

after (the

low on the
\lenly.

ig. His legal
1e following

morning bearing a .32 caliber revolver
she had found hidden in a closet. Geb-
hardt was forced to admit this was the
murder gun.

The woman also told the detectives her
husband had married her in the belief she
had more money than actually was the
case, and that she believed this was his
motive in marrying Anna Luther. Fur-
ther, she said, a woman friend who had
known Gebhardt for many years had told
her he had already had seven wives, all
of whom were in their graves. She and
Anna Luther made nine!

“You want to be careful!” the friend
had warned, “or you may end in the
grave, too.”

In this connection Roddy questioned
Gebhardt at length about the missing
Mrs. Braunlich, but the prisoner denied
knowing her and police could uncover
nothing to connect him with that mys-
tery beyond the fact they owned adjoin-
ing property.

While the confessed killer was held in
the county jail’ at Riverhead, District At-
torney Furman received word from Sing
Sing that Gebhardt’s picture in the news-
papers had been identified as that of Fritz
Scharferlein, who had served nine years
in the state prison for grand larceny and
perjury. Gebhardt grudgingly admitted
that he was the man but insisted that
Scharferlein was another of his aliases
and that his real name was Gebhardt.

Several days later the warden of the
jail received an anonymous letter written
in German declaring that the writer had

known Gebhardt as Fritz “Schaferlein.”
On Sept. 15, 1895, the writer continued,
“Schaferlein” had married an unnamed
woman, sailed with her to the old coun-
try and there had separated her from her
money, after which he deserted her and
returned to America.

These reports were the first of many
which poured into Riverhead and Brook-
lyn during the weeks and months that
followed.

On Oct. 18, 1910, a year after the
body of Anna Luther had been found,
Gebhardt went on trial before Supreme
Court Justice Joseph Aspinall and a jury
in the county courthouse at Riverhead.

Three days later the jury returned a
verdict of guilty as charged, and on Oct.
24, Justice Aspinall sentenced Gebhardt
to die in the Sing Sing electric chair dur-
ing the week beginning December 5.

The defense appealed the conviction,
obtaining a reprieve, but the Court of Ap-
peals denied the plea.

Early on the morning of June 11, 1911,
Frederick Gebhardt, alias Otto Mueller,
alias Fritz Scharferlein, was led into the
Sing Sing death-house. The sight of the
chair unnerved the killer and he collapsed.
He was half-carried, half-dragged to the
chair, where with the passage of two
searing shocks through his body the
Bluebeard slaying of lovely Anna Luther
was at last avenged.

(For obvious reasons, the names Elsa Braunlich
and Hans Kurtz, as used in the story, are not real
but fictitious,—Ed.)

Easter Eve Murder and the Hidden Clue

[Continued from page 19]

revolver. “You see, we’ve got the gun.”

McMurtry stared and paled visibly.
Calderhead knew, without asking him,
that the man recognized the gun.

“I found it in Mehan on the eleventh
of April on the floor beside the body of
Dorsey Andrew!”

Ed McMurtry went to pieces. Re-
luctantly, he admitted he had pawned it
with a broker at Yale.

“T’ll have to take you along until this
thing is cleared up,” said Calderhead.

At Yale they contacted the broker. He
said McMurtry had pawned the gun with
him but later had come after it. “He told
me he had found a man who wanted to
buy it and he gave me twenty dollars.
That was in March,” the man told them.

“About three weeks ago he came back
and said, ‘If you see that pistol I pawned,
just say you don’t know it.’ I never asked
him what he meant and he never told me
anything more.”

Calderhead asked McMurtry to verify
the story. But the farmer had closed up
like a clam.

Calderhead turned his car back toward
Stillwater. “Ed,” he said; “I’m holding
you for investigation of murder.”

McMurtry a short time later sat in the
county attorney’s office, beads of sweat
popping out on his forehead. Under
Suman’s fusillade of questions, he still re-
fused to name the man to whom he had
sold the gun, Yet he stoutly denied that
the gun was in his possession on the night
of April 11.

Suman sat back. “Okay, McMurtry.
I’m going to file you for murder.”

“No!” McMurtry gasped. He lurched
upward, half out of his chair, The sweat
on his forehead oozed in tiny rivulets
down his face. “I didn’t kill him, I swear
it. It was—” He caught himself abruptly.

His face was white and his thin lips
quivered as he faced his questioners.

“You're a fool to take the rap for some-
body else,” Suman reminded. “You've got
a family.”

McMurtry was a man who had reached
the end of his rope. Slowly he sank back
into his chair, Then he broke.

“T sold the gun to a man named Ray-
mond Porter,” he blurted.

Raymond Porter! The officer started.
That was the name of one of the automo-
bile thieves arrested in Tecumseh and now
held in the Stillwater jail in default of
$1,000 bond. They must have stolen the
car after the shooting of Andrew at
Mehan. No wonder they had not fought
the theft case very hard, the officers rea-
soned. They also must have disposed of
the revolvers and automatics.

“And the man who helped Porter kill
the storekeeper was Robert Burke,”
Suman snapped.

The prisoner nodded. “Only that’s not
his real name,” he said. “He’s. really
Robert McCurdy. ay

He told them how it all had happened.
The three, McMurtry, Porter and Mc-
Curdy had planned the job in Yale. They
drove to Mehan at nightfall and stopped
in the main street between the two stores.

They were out of cigarets, McMurtry

went on, so Porter went into one store

for some tobacco. While looking things
over, he asked when the next train was
due. He returned to the car and they
drove east, then turned south and stopped
close to the railroad tracks.

“Bob asked Ray which one of the stores
had the postoffice in it and Ray said it
must have been the one he was in be-
cause there was a little room there,”

. MeMurtry went on.

“Bob said they didn’t want to get the

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TRUK DETECTIVE, April, 1942,

GEBHARDT, Frederick, white, elec. Sing Sing (Suffolk) 6/12/1911...

’

The Dream of

The soul-stirring tale of a

Otto Mueller was a handsome
man with an expression in his eyes
that women found irresistible

October that Otto Mueller, as he

called himself, first saw Anna
Luther. She was standing at the ex-
treme end of the rock pile at Rockaway
Point, Long Island, where anglers were
fishing in the swift moving current
caused by the meeting of the waters of
Jamaica Bay and the open Atlantic
Ocean.

A strong off-shore breeze whipped
the skirt’ about the girl’s body and
tousled her blond hair, the hue of fresh
cornsilk.

1: WAS on a golden day in early

man who sought io live a

double life, and created for
himself—a living death

She was watching a trim yacht luffing
in the spanking breeze and was un-
aware of how closely a strange man
was watching her. Finally, she dropped
her seaward look and caught the in-
terested stare with her blue eyes.

“A pretty sight, is it not?” he asked.

She nodded.

“But you—you are even prettier!”

She blushed.

“You pay clever compliments. But I

should not listen to them. I never saw’

you before in my life, you know!”
Thus she protested, but only half-
heartedly, for there was something
about the well-dressed stranger that
captivated her. It may have been his
voice and the fact that his remarks had
no trace of a flirtatious tone. He spoke
as one who had known her a long time.
Her glance showed a healthy looking
man, every ounce of his one hundred
and seventy pounds hard as concrete.
His broad shoulders were erect, in mili-
tary posture, and the masculinity of his
shaggy brows, the smart cut of his dark
mustache, ends turned up in Kaiser-like
style, and the animation in his hypnotic

blue eyes constituted a three-way at-
tack on any woman upon whom he
smiled. And he was smiling as he raised
his hat, revealing white, even tecth.

“You are German?”

She nodded.

“T am German, also!”

“tT am from Weida in Saxony.” She
held her hand for him to assist her from
the jagged piece of rock on which she
had been perched to the level footing
where he was standing. “Anna Luther
is my name.”

He bowed, with hat in hand.

“We should be friends. My name is
Otto Mueller. I am an architect. Would
you enjoy a glass of beer?”

Chatting animatedly, the girl walked
beside him to a beer garden. She told
of her girlhood in Germany, of her
father, Herman Luther, a well-to-do
forwarding agent.

“Father did not want me to come to
America. He said that it was my duty
to remain at home and settle down and
get married. But I had other ideas.”

“But you certainly believe in mar-
riage?” His strong brown hand gently

"There are no more trains to New York tonight,” said the stationmaster
at Islip Station (above) when the nervous would-be passenger approached

54

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Trapping New York’s Bluebeard Killer,

[Continued from page 15]

must go back to my first wife’ She have happened to it? Who found it?”
fainted. When she came to she begged “Your bullet,” answered Roddy, “didn’t
me not to leave her and kissed me... ” kill the poor girl at once. She must have

Here Gebhardt hesitated, haunted by crawled from your property to that of
the recollection, and Capt. Coughlin Mrs, Braunlich, where she was found.
prompted him sternly: “Go on.” That girl died alone in the forest—like

“I started to walk away,” Gebhardt a wounded animal!” .
continued, “and Anna ran after me. I “Why did you take that gun with you ?2
drew my gun to strike her, The first thing asked Coughlin.

I knew, I had shot her. She sank to the “T always carried it. .
ground and I ran back to town.” “Where did you leave it after {the
“Is that all?” asked Coughlin. crime?” ,

“No,” replied the prisoner. “I came out “T threw it out of the window on the
to Islip five days later to see if the body train,” the prisoner replied sullenly. ‘
was still there and it wasn’t! I’ve been But Gebhardt again was lying. His legal
“haunted ever since by that. What could wife arrived at headquarters the following

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72

migrant girl was the Islip
station of the Long Island
railroad, above, on her way
to a rendezvous with death.
At right is ace manhunter
William Roddy whose re-
lentless following up of
slender clues snared the cal-
lous Bluebeard, left. Below,
the wooded spot where the
skeleton was found.

morning bearin
she had found
hardt was force
murder gun.

The woman a
husband had ma
had more mone
case, and that :
motive in marr
ther, she said, «
known Gebhard
her he had alre
of whom were
Anna Luther m

“You want t
had warned, “
grave, too.”

In this conn
Gebhardt at le
Mrs. Braunlich
knowing her a
nothing to con
tery beyond th«
ing property.

While the co
the county jail:
torney Furman
Sing that Gebh:
papers had been
Scharferlein, w
in the state pris
perjury. Gebh:
that he was tl
Scharferlein w:
and that his re

Several days
jail received an
in German dec!

Easter

revolver. “You
McMurtry s
Calderhead kn
that the man
“T found it i
of April on the
Dorsey Andrew
Ed McMurt
luctantly, he ac
with a broker <
“T'll have to
thing is cleared
At Yale they
said McMurtry
him but later h
me he had fou
buy it and he
That was in M
“About thre¢
and said, ‘If yo
just say you dc
him what he m
anything more
Calderhead :
the story. But
like a clam.
Calderhead t
Stillwater. “Ex
you for invest
McMurtry a
county attorne
popping out
Suman’s fusilla
fused to name
sold the gun.
the gun was in
of April 11.
Suman sat
I’m going to fi
“No!” McM
upward, half o
on his forehe:
down his face.
it. Itwas—” }

‘Mives and rial of
GIBBS AND WANSLEY,

DS intecs
Who were Berecuted for Piracy.

. ri len
j ul ‘ yas ae tiveof I rove ’
I th atrocious \ lain Caibbs Was a ’ cre

. Tiers ’

Rhode tsland. Tis true name was —— . ‘ fe oe
ae asdmore generally known as Charles G ju
es vee ae in that appellation. Tis adventures, exee on
shill ae : ‘for Which he was finally hanged, are on y
ing the riot? Isawn admissions while uader sentence ul
ae must judge for themselves how far
adea - 4

OTe “ad. :
they are = Rab oie legally taken, that ~ obi
Viney sailed from New Orleans oe OPhueaby was
rember, 1830, tor Pliladelphia, Wiliam. ‘The

aeetatom Labber than ree ceca basny

‘IRERS AND WANSEKY, 180

Poe eee iene deesen ‘i

P Wath:

a Fes oe
eee

1 Reberts pe mete,

pb a ae wee EP ONES VR. ON alee Corbdes,

Foaling Browirriae, Redert Pye, » Whany Nwell, Somes

Talbot 4, OTeety. sped Thomas 0 Witnstey, X young
PeSTOUIILVE af Dh | PME Wi ete dD py erek

Whete the Vyas, yee teed beeny FV days at sent Wanley
tr obs Ot Kepeowsy tes Wier etew eae thieetee Weegee WATS Meertisconnl
others on oC "This Hater nacationy CNC Hed rene
epadity, ited tralia then te comes om the TT Raed
setting lee MeHeY tte their awn hands, Many conver
SOUS took: place ee abet. eed While hese wer,

“nt, Pes ws WS dere boy, wpe SOUL fon eroony.
Vere wath ite Oilieers. in ord rote livers thenr SUELO UES benny
froma Whitt wes Bessues Finally it was reseleod. Wat any
he aaster amd tate Were of foment was tiie rey
should lie UNE nates g orm for the rising Leneratieny

Toreover, hey were of opinion thacet cas thee Mate Was of:
peevish Usposition, hee deserve Dads th. Vet. ta ch hie
HAN Tajustiee, it dees Wet Appear that Brownrige of Pal.
hot Taal UMS part ine ttaeces Celiberations, of In the fionl
deed that resulted froin them.

he COMSpitators nore) to COMME the erentost earthly
Ties, tnurder ane Prey, on the night of the x) eed bi
Mttrder of Wye MeUStOr Was assicned tt fbbS and Wane.
eves that of the maate to Atwell cad Church,

The vessel was af Crape Witteras, When the tune: fixer?
Ma the mneder Arrived. "My MUUStOE Ws Stone tinge on the
Vhteter deck. Dawes FarweD thee VaeeDsap. tied Prewrrire Was
left, | Dv aress ealhed Wanstey ONY te tripe tye Liecdes in oth
Fottactertes, Py. Mach teved as of Ben crboery Dongs Cement Pee
Haat My, Thoruby, steueh Tam on the to Sy a] Beek
Wathh. ¢Syes Pep Pra cy bye Tree fet forward. eryine
datteebeg 1 Witnstey repected: his bhows ff thie peyasteeg
ee re wath thie tsstsfnter of Conn. Uirew
y of, ty ote ry ray l Wile tary hee] of | Waniy SS Wipes

denies, thie TEtle trent] by the Pierce crap ppes "Mp the
Ata sd Cherred,
Pete Wattne for ha st tie Beye et the Lelder sage ee

“¥ cl nt th

faiths

eM Steph Pesae Dower Wate ce etatss Page a Fa | Theot

ay See) ee TL Pe Piel tes Complete: thre Work. Vort qe


ler—I am Gebhardt! You must let me go!”

The detectives hustled him out to their
squad car and drove to Brooklyn Head-
quarters.

There he was led into Coughlin’s office,
where the captain was waiting to question
him. But for the next ‘hour the prisoner -
sat sneering and defiant, vigorously deny-
ing every accusation.

The Holbachs were brought over from
Newark and viewed a lineup of a dozen
prisoners, from which they unhesitatingly
picked out the suspect as the man they
knew as Otto Mueller.

“I never saw these people before,” he
insisted coolly. “My name is Gebhardt—
not Mueller.”

Coughlin ordered the prisoner brought
back to his office, where for the next five
hours he was grilled relentlessly. But still
he steadfastly denied everything, including
his identity as the victim's husband.

Leaving Coughlin gnd Murray to con-
tinue the questioning, Roddy returned to
the Astoria house, where a police lock-
smith had been working patiently on the
trunks in the basement.

The hasps had been unlocked at last
and Roddy eagerly threw back the lids
to examine the contents.

It was almost two a.M. when Roddy ap-
peared again at Brooklyn Headquarters
and entered Coughlin’s office carrying a
large bundle.

Before the wildly staring eyes of the
prisoner, he unwrapped the package and
held up two dresses and a petticoat, all
marked with the same initials embroidered
in German script—A. L.

“These belonged to Anna Luther!” Rod-
dy declared. “I found them in a trunk in
your cellar. You murdered her, and we
know how and why. Now will you tell
the truth?”

Beads of sweat stood out on the pri-
soner’s pale forehead. His hand trembled
as he raised a handkerchief to mop his
brow.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice, “I did
it. But I didn’t mean to kill her!”

“Whatever you say,” Coughlin warned,
“may be used against you.”

The prisoner bowed his head and gin-
gerly placed one hand around his -throat.
“I guess you can stretch my neck,” he
said, “with what you already have on me.”

Then, while a police stenographer took
down his words, he began a strange and
horrible confession. His name, he said,

.

was really’ Frederick Gebhardt and he was
already married when he met Anna Luther
in Newark the previous February.

“We fell in love at once,” he continued,
“and she wanted me to marry her. That
was the only way she would have it, and
I was afraid to tell her about my wife,
from whom IL. was separated. So, I went
through with the ceremony.

“Anna was young, fresh and lovely. But

I soon realized I was too old for- her. -

After we came back from Europe on our
honeymoon, I got lonesome for my first
wife.. After a visit I made up my mind
to return to live with her,

“I met Anna in Newark on April eighth.
From there we went to Jamaica, where I
had told her I had bought a house. When
we got to Jamaica I explained this was
an exaggeration, and that I did have some
land out in Islip and intended to build
there.

“That led to a furious argument. But
we made up and stayed all night at a
hotel in Jamaica. The next day we took a
train out to Islip to look at my lots.

“We were standing there in the woods
when I decided to tell her the truth.
‘Anna,’ I said, ‘I lied to you because I
loved you. When I married you I already
had one wife. Now I must go back to
her.’ She fainted. When she came to her
senses again, she begged me not to leave
her and kissed me——”

Here Gebhardt broke off and covered

his face. with his hands, as if to shut out .

the horrible recollection. “Go on!” Cough;
lin sternly prompted. re

“I started to walk away,” he continued,
“and Anna ran after me. I drew my gun
to strike her. The first thing I knew, I had
shot her. She sank to the ground, and I
ran back to town.”

“Is that all?” the captain demanded.

“No,” the prisoner replied. “Five days
later, I went out to Islip again to see if
the body was still there and it wasn’t!
I've been, haunted by that ever since.
Where did you find her?”

Roddy’s face was grim. “Your bullet,”
he replied, “didn’t kill the poor girl at
once. She must: have crawled from your
property to that of Mrs. Lietzau, where
she was found. She died there, alone in
the forest, like a wounded animal!”

Gebhardt: insisted he had no intention
of killing the young woman, but always
carried the gun with him for protection.
After the slaying, he declared, he had

thrown it out of a train window on the
way back to the city. :

But he was lying again, for when his
legal wife arrived at headquarters the next
day, she carried with her a .32 calibre
revolver which she had found hidden in
a closet of their home. Gebhardt was
forced to admit this was the murder
weapon.

Mrs. Gebhardt also told the detectives
her husband had married her in the belief
that she had more money than actually
was the case, and said she believed this
was his true motive in marrying Anna
Luther. Further, she said, a woman friend
who had known Gebhardt for years in
Germany told her he already had seven
wives, all of whom were in their graves.
She and Anna Luther made nine!

“If you aren't careful,” the friend had
warned her before her marriage, “you will
end up in the grave, too.”

But Mrs. Gebhardt had paid no heed
to this warning, for which she had no
confirmation until the tragic death of
Anna Luther recalled it to her.

Gebhardt was taken to Suffolk County
to await trial. While he languished in the
county jail at Riverhead, District Attorney
Furman received word from Sing Sing that
a picture of Gebhardt carried in the news-
papers had been identified as that of Fritz
Scharferlein, who had served nine years
in the state prison there for grand larceny
and perjury.

Other reports indicated Gebhardt had |

made a practice of marrying women for
their money. Except for Anna. Luther,
there was no proof he had murdered
others—but the detectives pictured him
as a real-life Bluebeard, whose last bride
had paid for her marriage’ with her life.

Gebhardt’s trial opened on October 18,
1910. Three days later the jury found
Gebhardt guilty as charged, and Justice
Aspinall sentenced him to die in the elec-
tric chair at Sing Sing.

Shortly after midnight on June 11, 1911,
Frederick Gebhardt, alias Otto Mueller,
alias Fritz Scharferlein, was led into the
Sing Sing death chamber. Unnerved at the
sight of the chair, he collapsed and had
to be carried to the hot seat, where two
quick shocks ‘put him to death.

NoteE—The names Mrs. Martha Leitzau
and Mr. and Mrs. Anton Holbach are
fictitious to spare embarrassment to inno-
cent persons.

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.

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Pushing th
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and the storic
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to let him g
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worry about.
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To make su
in his coat p
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bathroom he
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It occurred
the first train
hungry and n
after that he
show. A good
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enjoyed a goo
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ESTED ani

him, John
leisurely and y
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left for the st:
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stand near th

ig, URI ise ctenemaierraa sp . 3 "eS

She was tired and thirsty and hungry
when she knocked on the back door of
a farm house ten miles from the prison
and asked for a drink of water.

After she drank from the dipper she
noticed a car in the yard and asked the
farm woman whether or not she could
drive. .

The answer was, “No.”

Helen Spence Eaton turned and walked
away, but not before the’ farm woman
had noticed the outline of the pistol be-
neath her blouse and recognized the prison
clothes. And earlier she had heard that
one of the prison women had escaped.

If the shanty boat girl had been aware
of the identification she would have doubt-
following day that anybody saw Helen
less tried to get out the vicinity before
the farm woman could notify her husband
and he could contact the authorities; but
she was frustrated and bewildered and she

os

merely walked down the country road as
though. nothing had happened:

The warden and Wallace Forbes ar-
rived soon afterwards. They listened to
the farm woman’s story and then started
to drive slowly in the direction Helen
Spence Eaton had gone.

Wallace Forbes was holding a shotgun
on his lap when they spotted the girl in
the distance.

“There she’is,” he whispered.

The warden stopped the car a good dis-
tance from the walking girl and she was

Rot aware of their presence. The first

man cut through the underbrush on one

side of the road and the second took the

other side. Pad
Helen Spence Eaton moved slowly.
Wallace Forbes reached her first. He

dashed from the scrub brush and shouted,

“Throw up your hands!”

' The startled girl turned quickly. It was

Forbes’ contention that she reached for
her blouse.

The prison trusty fired point-blank. The
bullet hit Helen Spence Eaton in the
neck. She half turned and then sprawled
side-ways into the dusty country road.
She died almost instantly,

The warden rushed out of the bushes
to find the shanty boat girl’s pistol tucked
into her belt beneath her blouse.

They still talk about Helen Spence
Eaton down there in the White River
section of Arkansas. Some of the natives
will tell you that the shanty boat girl
never had a chance. Others contend that
she was a mean one like her father and
that she lived outside the law and died
by violence because of it. But most every-
body will agree that Helen Spence Eaton
could have been no different than she was
and that even if she did kill she had good
reason for it. ;

BLUEBEARD’S LAST BRIDE

(Continued from page 17)

at last. “Altona is a village in Schleswig-
Holstein. If there is an Otto Schomm
there, the local police would know. I
shall send them a cable at once.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Roddy, “they can
teY us something about the person whose
initials are ‘A. L.’ Better give them all
the facts.” :

Benz nodded as he wrote out the cable,
which he dispatched promptly.

Three hours later, the consul general
received a cabled acknowledgement in
the form of a single word, “Investigating.”

Roddy and Benz waited patiently at the
consulate until late that evening, when the
Altona Police Department cabled its full
report.

One Otto Schommer, the report said in
effect, was a hardware dealer with a shop
on Koenig Street in Altona. In February
of the previous year, he had sold a variety
of household goods to one Anna Luther of
Weida, Saxony. The Altona police’ had

. located one’ Adolph Wuerl, a tailor, who
had known Anna Luther and made the
black coat for her. The tailor reported
Fraulein Luther had married an Otto
Mueller in February and sailed with him
on the Amerika for the United : States.
Her temporary address in this country,
she had told friends, would be the home
of Mr. and Mrs. Anton Holbach at 199
South Sixth Street, Newark.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Roddy, reading
the report. “There’s no question now that
the victim was Anna Luther. Both the
sales receipt and the initials scratched on
the watch indicate that.”

Roppy lost. no time in following up
this important clue. He took a ferry
across the river to the twinkling cluster
of lights on the Jersey shore which marked
Jersey City. From there, he traveled by
streetcar to Newark and set out on foot
to find the South Sixth Street address.
At last he mounted the stoop of a three-
story frame house bearing the correct

plate of Anton Helbach beside the door.
Roddy rang the bell and the door was

LASER

e
Oe.
Pe

: .; Dumber, and was gratified to see the name- ,

of days until her husband cou

opened by Holbach himself, a husky
brewery superintendent. The detective
showed his shield and Holbach, somewhat
puzzled, stepped aside to admit him.

“I’m looking for Anna Luther and Otto
Mueller,” Roddy explained. “Do you
know them?”

“Jat” replied Holbach, stroking his
thick blond mustache. “Such a fine pair
they were. But I, too, am wondering
what happened to them. Since they were
here last April, we have heard nothing
from them.”

Seated in the living room of the Newark
house, Roddy drew from Holbach a com-
pelling story.

Anna Luther, he said, was a pretty,
blue-eyed blonde of 26. She was a sweet,
gentle girl with a generous, trusting na-
ture, whom everyone loved.

Anna -had come hopefully to America,
he continued, to get a job in domestic
service, eventually going to Newark to live
with. the Holbach family, whom. her par-
ents had known in Germany.

It was while she was living with them
that Anna had become acquainted with
a man named Otto Mueller, whom she
proudly introduced to them the previous
February. Holbach described Mueller as
a man in his thirties, of meduim height
and wiry, with dark brown hair and a
black mustache, and a peculiarly under-
shot lower jaw. :

Only two days after Anna had intro-
duced Mueller to the Holbachs, she mar-

tied him at their home, with a Newark.

pastor officiating and the Holbachs acting
as witnesses. She had said that she ex-
pected to get some money from her father
when they went to visit him in Germany

.on their honeymoon.

It was on February 10 that Mueller
and his pretty young bride had sailed,
and the Holbachs had heard nothing fur-
ther from them until the following April 2.
On that day, Mrs. Holbach went to an-
swer the door and found Anna standing

. there alone. The bride said she wanted

to stay with the Holbachs for a couple
Id get their

i PR

eit

baggage from the pier out to Jamaica,
Long Island, where he had bought a house
for her. All the dowry she had been able

‘to get from her -father was $400, she

told them, and Mueller had been ob-
viously disappointed.

Holbach told Roddy that two days after
Anna had returned from Germany, Muel-
ler appeared at their house in a great
hurry and took her away, saying he
would get in touch with them, but fail-
ing to leave any address.

“Do you know what ship they returned
on?” Roddy asked.

Holbach nodded. “Anna said it was
the same one they took across — the
Amerika,”

From Newark, Roddy went back to
New York and visited the pierside offices
of the North German Lloyd Line, op-
erators of the Amerika. There the night
manager consulted records and informed
him that the baggage of the Otto Muellers,
comprising four large trunks, had been
transported by van to an address on Wash-
ington Avenue in the densely-populated
German community of Hoboken, New
Jersey.

Roddy wearily took another ferry back
across the Hudson to Hoboken, where
he determined that the Washington Street
address was a large storage warehouse.
The night superintendent there told him
that the Muellers’ trunks had been trans-
ferred, soon after their arrival, to an
address on Woolsey Avenue in Astoria,
Long Island.

It was after midnight when Roddy
boarded the ferry again and started back
for Brooklyn to go off duty for a few
hours of sleep.

Shortly after eight o’clock the next
morning, Roddy—still playing a lone hand
—set out for the Astoria address. He
found it to be a small, two-story frame
house. For a fleeting moment, he stood
staring at the nameplate above the door-
bell—Frederick Gebhardt.

The name clicked instantly in his mind.
Gebhardt was the man who owned the

Property in the Islip development next

he ite ii Bie eat

to the plot

had been ;}
Roddy

featured, ;

The detec:

“Does Ott

The nan
the womar

replied. ‘J

Gebhardt.

“Yes, of
sudden ins;
your husbe

Elections. °

a man nar

straighten ji

“Well, on
woman saic
at the piano
there.”

Roddy w:

want to bo
carefully. “|

perhaps that

The wom
“I have one.
and I'll get

She returi
Opening’ it,
of a man v
jaw. “That's

“If you dc
the picture
pocketing it.
to the boarc
Don’t worry,
bring it back

Mrs. Geb!
“I--I don't k
say, but as
guess it’s all

From Astc
for Newark.
ing, in his mi
fling case. Ot:
Luther a fe:
appeared. Fr
married, for
an older wor
hardt were th
he had done
discovery of
her.

Arriving in
ly to the Hx
Holbach prom
of Gebhardt.

“Why, whe:
asked in aston
Otto Mueller,

“Not yet,” |
I’m on his tra

So Mueller
bigamously ma
girl, if indeed
a legal ceremo
blood? Could
her dowry, int:
he could inher
it proved so |
appointment, \
worth committi
some other mot

These questi:
active mind as h
Police Headqua
what he had lea

“Mueller or

name is, he’s or
_ “Like your plar


she reached for

point-blank. The
e Eaton in the
nd then sprawled
‘(y country road.

Ys

ut of the bushes
tirl’s pistol tucked
er blouse.

it Helen Spence
the White River
me of the natives
shanty boat girl
thers contend that
ke her father and
the law and died
t. But most every-
slen Spence Eaton
erent than she was
kill she had good

r out to Jamaica,
nad bought a house
she had been able
er was $400, she
ler had been ob-

that two days after
m Germany, Muel-
house in a great
away, saying he
ith them, but fail-
Ss.

. ship they returned

‘Anna said it was
ook across — the

ddy went back to
| the pierside offices
in Lloyd Line, op-
ca. There the night
cords and informed
of the Otto Muellers,
2 trunks, had been
an address on Wash-
ie densely-populated
of Hoboken, New

« another ferry back
to Hoboken, where

aibekl is nssh eka ia neat - =< comers 1) me enon a: _
‘ i

‘to the plot on which the vicitim’s skeleton

had been found!

Roddy rang’ the bell and a_ sharp-
featured, middle-aged woman responded.
The detective removed his hat, asking,
“Does Otto Mueller live here?”

The name apparently meant nothing to
the woman. “Never heard of him,” she
replied. “This is the home of Frederick
Gebhardt. I am his wife.”

“Yes, of course,”
sudden inspiration. “I’m also looking for
your husband. I’m from the Board of
Elections. There’s been some mixup about
a man named Gebhardt and I’m here to
straighten it out.”

“Well, my husband isn’t here,” the
woman said drily. “He is at work over
at the piano factory. He’s a cabinet-maker
there.”

Roddy was thinking quickly. “I don’t
want to bother him at work,” he said
carefully. “If you have a picture of him,
perhaps that would clear up the matter.”

The woman hesitated for a moment.
“I have one,” she replied. “Just a minute
and I'll get it for you.”

She returned with the family album.
Opening’ it, she pointed to a photograph
of a man with a peculiar-looking lower
jaw. “That’s Mr. Gebhardt,” she said.

“If you don’t mind,” said Roddy, lifting
the picture carefully from the album and
pocketing it, “I'll take this photo back
to the board with me to check it there.
Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it and
bring it back to you in a couple of hours.”

Mrs. Gebhardt bit her lip hesitantly.
“I~-I don’t know what my husband would
say, but as long as you're an official, I
guess it’s all right.”

From Astoria, Roddy headed straight
for Newark. At last the clues were point-
ing, in his mind, to a solution of the baf-
fling case. Otto Mueller had married Anna
Luther a few months before she dis-
appeared. Frederick Gebhardt had been
married, for some years apparently, to
an older woman. If Mueller and Geb-
hardt were the same man, it was possible
he had done away with Anna to avoid
discovery of his bigamous marriage to
her.

Arriving in Newark, Roddy went direct-
ly to the Holbach home. There Mrs.
Holbach promptly recognized the picture
of Gebhardt.

“Why, where did you get that?” she
asked in astonishment.

said Roddy with a

picture, on the pretext of returning it, to
pick him up when he comes home from
work this evening. But you’d better take
another man with you. From what you
tell me, this fellow isn’t the type who’d
try to bluff his way out of a jam. He'll
come out shooting instead.”

At 3:30 that afternoon, Roddy and De-
tective Thomas F. Murray appeared at
the front door of the house in Astoria.
Hand on his gun, Roddy rang the bell
and Mrs. Gebhardt came to the door.

He held out the photograph she had
given him. “Here’s your husband's pic-
ture,” he said. “We'd like to talk with
him. What time do you expect him home?”

“Give me that!” snapped the woman,
snatching the picture from Roddy. “My
husband was furious this noon at lunch
when | told him I let you have the picture.
He doesn’t want to see you, either!”

She tried to close the door, but Roddy
already had his huge, square-toed shoe in
the way. He showed Mrs. Gebhardt his
badge and the frightened woman drew
back to let the detectives enter.

Inside the officers embarked on an in-
tensive search of all the rooms. In the
basement they found four large trunks
from which all tags had been removed.
Roddy tried the hasps and found them
all locked.

“We'll have to get a locksmith to open |}

these,” he declared.

Returning upstairs, the detectives went
to the kitchen. High on a shelf Murray
found a box of .32-calibre cartridges from
which several were missing.

“Anna Luther was killed by a .32-calibre
bullet,” Roddy observed. “Let’s look for
the gun.”

For the: next two hours, however, they
searched for the weapon in vain. It was
now dusk and Roddy again asked Mrs.
Gebhardt when her husband would be
home from work..

“He should be here now,” she insisted.
“I can’t understand why he’s so late.”

Roddy looked outside and saw a group

‘of newspaper reporters and photographers

attracted by rumors of a break in the
sensational case. Somehow they had
learned of his investigation.

“With all this crowd around,” Roddy
declared, “our quarry naturally won’t en-
ter the house. Come on, let’s go out
there and break. it up.”

As the detectives emerged from the front
door, Roddy had one hand on Murray’s

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: “It’s a picture of information bf value to you. Booklet is mailed
ee. Otto Mueller. Have you found him?” sleeve. A photographer for the old New together with, Questionnaire ye in plain z
dent pai toad ‘his “Not yet,” Roddy replied grimly, “but Sieg World, mistaking he byte roar Now}, NO OBLIGATION. ens

I’m on his trail.” ~” tive for a prisoner, exploded his flash to SW
been trans- — TH PON --
rors oe tox an So Mueller was Gebhardt! Had he get the picture. mien. bx N !
Aveaue in ” Astoria bigamously married the young immigraut In the sudden glare, Roddy’ s sharp eyes ! MILFORD, KANSAS — ts ! or
, girl, if indeed he had gone through with saw a white, frightened face peering | | Gentlemen: Pletbe cond enh pont Peve?hieba teeth !
‘ * slain’ i through the latticework of the porch. ty

h Rodd a legal ceremony, then’ slain her in cold : $5 =
Oe hed ren blood? Could he have married Anna .for _ Quickly Roddy covered the spot with bane ee } :
“off duty for a few her dowry, intending to kill her so that his gun. ; : | ADpREss H ;

he could inherit the money? But when “Come out or I'll shoot!” he com-| | crryasasrare ” '
ht o'clock the next it proved so little, to the groom’s dis- manded. : -_ EET OE PE OO a ary oo
il playing a lone hand appointment, would it still have been The cowering fugitive emerged and they ANY PHOTO PHOTO ENI LARGED
Ae address. He worth committing murder? Or was there saw at a glance that it was Gebhardt. re
nal, two-story frame some other motive? “What do you want?” he demanded, ex- | Size 8 x 10 Inches :
ig moment, he stood These questions drummed in Roddy’s tending his lower jaw with forced bravado. Fame prne for fal aneth or Bot
late above the door- active mind as he hurried back to Brooklyn We want you, Otto Mueller,” barked mals: io roupa, landscapes, pet ani- |
apes dt Police Headquarters. There he reported Roddy, “for the murder of your bride, felted GEE Sor solototoant. i
instantly in his mind. what he had learned to Captain Coughlin. Anna Luther! You're under. arrest.” Send NoMoney 3 tor $150: ean 4
nen Who. Cited th6 “Mueller or Gebhardt, whatever his “You are mistaken! cried the prisoner, aset [any pares) Reais Peer is] é ;
ip development next name is, he’s our man,” Coughlin agreed. lowering his hands, to receive the ee bor i ge rates, ee ; s
“I lik ith his Murray snapped on him. “I am not Muel- fake advantage of this amazing off photestoday.
}. ike your plan to go back there with his! y PP : "Professional frt Stades, $945. Mais, Opt. 7621-4, Prisceten, Iiaakc y ee
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RIVING with his wife along-
D side De Witt Cemetery just

outside of Syracuse, New
York, on the night of March 15th,
fred Brown had great difficulty
in keeping to the highway. The
thick flakes of snow, twisted
and swirled by a driving gale.
beat against the windshield of
his car so thickly that the wiper
became stuck. Brown got out to
‘clean it. As he did so. the red
tail-light of another car sudden-

ly showed over the crest of the
road. ;

The door of the car opened.
A man leapt to the ground,
turned for a second until he
squarely faced Brown, then
whirled around, ran across the
road, squeezed himself through
the barbed wire strands of the
cemetery fence and raced in
and out among the gravestones
as though the devil himself were
after him.

IPDERNw

It was a weird performance. But
the startled Brown had little time
to reflect on it. To his consterna~
tion he saw that the car at the
crest was not stationary. It was
moving backward, at first slowly,
and then with accelerated speed,
toward Brown's machine.

“Look out, you fool!” the latter

. screamed.

But if the chauffeur heard either
the shout or the frantic blare of
the horn sounded by the panic-
stricken Mrs, Brown, he paid no

By JOSEPH FULLING FISHMAN


a4

been | going together for some time
now.

The deputy pressed the question-
ing along the same track.

How long had he known the young
widow? How long had he lived in
Syracuse? Where did he work? How
intimate were they?

Giallarenzi answered the questions
with a willingness that seemed to dis-
arm the deputy’s suspicions.

His answers checked, except when
he said that he was not too intimate
with the pretty young widow.

Piano knew otherwise, but he rea-
soned logically that it would not be
natural for the young man to admit
that their relationship was too inti-
mate.

Giallarenzi went on with his story.

“T’ve only been here about a

month,” he said. “I used to visit up

here last year, but I haven’t been
around until lately. ’'ve got a job
and pretty soon me and Angela are
going to get married.”

That afternoon, after Giallarenzi -

had been released, Piano paid another

visit to the Carlucci home. He asked-

the young widow a number of ques-
tions, and her answers checked per-
fectly with those of the young man.

Had Giallarenzi been in Syracuse
last March? ;

Mrs. Carlucci was sure that he
hadn’t, and she showed the deputy
a letter that she said she had received
from him in New York stating that
he had been ill with pneumonia.

“Then you must have known him
before your husband was murdered?”

+ Piano said. f

“Why, yes,” Mrs. Carlucci replied.

“IT met him the year before when
I was visiting some friends up in Os-

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

wego, but I didn’t begin seeing him
until after my husband was killed.”

= handed the letter to the deputy,
and Piano noted that the wording
was merely such that one casual
friend night write to another.

But why would Giallarenzi be writ-

‘ing letters to a married woman?

That didn’t click with the deputy,
and he. made a mental note of the
address on the reverse side of the en-
velope.

Was the case getting hot?

Was the deputy actually on the
last mile toward a solution?

He was playing a lone hand and
hunches now, strong hunches, too, and
the stories of both Mrs. Carlucci and
Giallarenzi would bear investigation.

“Eight hundred East 223rd, New
York City.” That was the return ad-
dress on the letter Mrs. Carlucci had
shown him, and the figures were en-
graved in his mind.

The following day he took a train
to New York City, and went to that
address, asking a number of ques-

_tions of persons in the neighborhood,

learning that Giallarenzi lived there.

And then somebody told him that
the young man was married, and was
the father of three children.

He hurried to the 223rd street ad-
dress.

A comely, young woman answered
the door.

Piano explained his mission.

“I’m his wife,” she said. “And we
aren’t living together. He’s going to
try to get a divorce, I understand,
and is up in Syracuse now.”

“Where was he last March?” the
deputy asked.

Mrs. Giallarenzi looked puzzled.

“Why, he was home,” she said. “He
was sick, right on the verge of pneu-
monia.”

Piano was disappointed.

Then his eyes caught sight of a
rifle standing in the living room.

“Does your husband go hunting?” he
asked, gesturing toward the weapon.

“He used to,” Mrs. Giallarenzi said.
“And he’s a good shot.” Suddenly her
eyes lighted.

“Say, come to think. of it,” she said,
“he was only sick a few days. Then
he went away hunting.”

Piano hurried back to Syracuse.

Giallarenzi had lied.

Why?

On December 5th the deputy picked
the young man up again and brought
him to headquarters. .

For hours he questioned him about
his whereabouts in March and par-
ticularly on the day of the murder.

He trapped the young man in lie
after lie. . ‘

For two days, alternating with
other deputies, Piano fired questions
at Giallarenzi, and finally he broke.

* “All right,” he said. “You’ve got.

me.’
The mystery was solved, but there
still were loose threads to be picked

up.

Pwas Mrs. Carlucci involved?

Giallarenzi had tried to clear her,
but Piano was unconvinced.

The following day, December 6th,
1933, Mrs. Carlucci was brought into
the district attorney’s office and told
that Giallarenzi had been arrested.

Then her composure broke.

She sobbed hysterically. .

“It doesn’t seem possible,” she said.
“And I loved him so.”

The young woman then told an

- Parents Read Letter

Bund Leader on Trial

The parents of Ruth Winnie Judd, blond

murderess who escaped from Arizona

Prison for Insane, and whom she visited

for fifteen minutes after her escape, are

shown reading letter left for Governor
R. T. Jones.

Fritz Kuhn, the man who allegedly tried to make America Nazi conscious, is shown
seated between his attorneys Peter Sabotino and Wilbur Keegan. Judge James
Garrett Wallace told the jurors that it was Kuhn who was on trial and not Adolf
Hitler. “We will take it for granted that you don’t like a hair on Hitler’s head,”
stated the judge. “But that is not the point. If it is shown that the defendant has been
guilty only of un-American activities, he can walk right out of that door a free man.”

eisai hi :
Nita NE alin ka Satay abe,

|
|

amazing story, which she later re-
peated in court.

She had met Ciallarenzi in 1932.

Giallarenzi was dapper, handsome.

They met frequently after that, and
fell in love.

She had been sixteen when Carlucci
married her to give her a home, and
up until that time she had never gone
with young men.

She had never been in love, never
until the day her hazel-hued eyes had
lighted on Alfred Giallarenzi.

Alfred had proposed to her. They
wanted to get married, but Angela
Carlucci couldn’t. . .. she already was
the wife of another man. 3

Giallarenzi had kept his secret well,
had never breathed a word that he
was married and the’ father of a
family.

“So you decided to have your hus-
band killed so you and Alfred could
marry?” Mrs. Carlucci was asked.

She raised her chin definantly.

“That’s a lie,” she said. “Of course
I didn’t love him. Joe was much older
than I was. It was just a hopeless
situation. But kill him? Never ....I
could never bring myself to that.”

She buried her head in her arms.

In March, 1934, Giallarenzi went on
trial in Onondaga county court in
Syracuse charged with the premedi-
tated slaying of Joseph Carlucci.

He confessed on the stand that he
aided in the murder, but said that
the actual killing had been done by a
mysterious “Tony,” who had been paid
to get Carlucci out of the way so that
he would be free to marry his widow.

Then on March 12th, almost a year
to the day that Joseph Carlucci was
slain, Alfred Giallarenzi stood be-
fore the judge.

“. . . death in the electric chair,”
the voice of the judge droned.

t

‘FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

Things | Couldn’t Tell
Till Now

(Continued from page 15)

with my client, Ison. I could see Ison
was impressed by the way I seemed
to stand in with the big shot.

As Schultz took my hand that night
his greeting seemed to make us co-
conspirators. And there was a calm,
assured sense of power in his hand-
shake that made me uneasy. It was as
if he had said, “We're going to do big
things together.” Later I told myself
that it was fated we should meet, espe-
cially when I found out that we had
been living in the same apartment
building all along.

His murderous reputation had led
me to expect a ruffian, but he was not
at all that way. He was a small but
well-set man, with good features. The
girls used to say he looked like Bing
Crosby with his nose bashed in. With
his mob, I was to learn, Schultz could
be boisterous and noisy, and talk a
rough thieves’ argot, but this night he
was polite, well-spoken, amiable.

There was something incongruous
about his appearance and not until
later did I realize what it was: he was
wearing splendid silk haberdashery
with a nondescript, ill-fitting gray suit.
Sycophants used to give him presents
of $25 shirts and $10 neckties, but he
bought his own suits, ready-made, and
never paid more than $35 for them.
There was a bulge at his waistline,
where he had his pistol under his vest.

.Joe Ison came quickly to the point.

Pe told Schultz that if Miro was com-

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of a restaurant where this . fellow stopped later.”

Piano looked puzzled.

“We've got a good description of him, too,” Picard said,

“and we put it out on the teletype . . . about five feet <a

. light complexion .. . and so on.’

‘A glint came into the deputy’s eyes. As calmly as “
could, without. arousing the curiosity of the trooper, he
asked: “Did you say he was about five feet eight?”

“That’s right,” Picard said. “Several people got a fairly
good look at him.” Piano made notes. “Good thing to
know,” he commented.

Why had Mrs. Carlucci lied about the description of the
fugitive?

ERTAINLY the man with the bandaged arm who had

come to the Carlucci home, and later seen leaving the

car on the highway was the same person who had walked

into the restaurant and hidden the bandage in the wash-
room.

Nevertheless he decided to make a check for himself, and
later that day talked again with the Sherwins.

They were positive that the man who had been in there
the night of the murder was no taller, at the ped outside,
than five feet, eight inches.

“What makes you so sure?” Piano saked Sherwin.

“Well, I ought to know,” the proprietor said. “He was
shorter than I am, and I'm five feet
ten.”

Piano puzzled over the new de-
velopments.

Was it possible, he thought, that
the mere slip of a girl who had mar-
ried Joseph Carlucci had made a
mistake in judging his height?

He returned to the Carlucci home,
and after speaking of generalities
for a few moments, pointed to a
stove pipe in the kitchen.

“How high is-that, Mrs. Carlucci?”
he asked.

The woman chuckled.

“I can tell 'you to the inch,” she
said.

‘“That stove pipe is exactly ten
feet, four inches from the ground.”

Piano sighed.

He knew, at a glance, that the
young woman was wrong. The ceil-
ing was no more than eight feet
high, and the stove pipe was a good
two feet below it.

Mrs. Carlucci had: not lied, then,
when she expressed the opinion that
the man who had visited her hus-
band was more than six feet tall.

“I’m good at guessing distances,” she said. ;

“You certainly are,” Piano remarked. “You missed that
one by two feet.”

“Have you learned anything more about: my husband?”
she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“Not a thing,” Piano replied. “I just dropped around to
see if you had heard anything, or if anybody had been
here.”

For several weeks, the deputies and the tpepert pursued
their meagre clues.

Piano talked to neighbors and friends, scores of them,
seeking some slender thread upon which to continue the
hunt.

Finally, a month after the murder of Joseph Carlucci, the
authorities realized that they were balked.

Piano, more than the others, knew how hopeless the case
was becoming.

Italians don’t talk, and no one knew it better than the
patient, hardworking deputy sheriff.

If any of Carlucci’s friends or relatives had the slightest
bit of information, they weren't telling it—at least not to a
police officer.

Meanwhile, the Carlucci estate was wound up, and the
young woman settled down to a new existence.

People had stopped staring at the modest home in Cath-

“I DIDNT LOVE HIM
BUT I DIDN'T. KILL
HIM!” SOBBED. THE
BEAUTIFUL WIDOW

OF THE SLAIN MAN

erine Street, and they no longer gaped at the pretty widow
as she walked down the street.

Likewise, people stopped asking questions.

The case apparently had been forgotten.

Nothing occurred in the interim, to change the status quo
until late that fall, in October.

Election campaigns were getting underway, and one of
the political issues was on the subject of crimes.

Piano’s term as a deputy was about to expire, and he felt

that a solution of the Carlucci case would not hurt his-

standing with the new sheriff.
But what to do about it?
Clues? All of them had been exhausted. :
The missing man with the bandaged arm had vanished

‘as completely as if he had disappeared into thin air.

HEN, on Octabiet 1st, came the — break in the mys-
tery. ’
“Two young men, out for a walk sta the cemetery
where Carlucci had been slain, stumbled across a steel ob-
ject in the tiger-grass.

It was the gun used in the killing, ballistic tests con- .

firmed, but there was not the slightest trace of fingerprints.

Piano thought of the bandage and was sure now that he
knew how the crime had been committed.

The gun had been concealed in the bandage. An old
‘ trick, the deputy realized, but a
clever one.

But the discovery of the gun
spurred him to renew his efforts. _

As he drove through the city one
afternoon, thinking of the new devel-
‘opment, he automatically turned
into Catherine Street and slowly
passed the Carlucci home.

He noticed an auto parked in
front, and signs of activity about the
house.

A hunch gripped him.

Questions flashed into his mind.

bride twenty-three. “December and
May ... and I never knew one that
had a happy ending yet,” he re-
marked to himself.

The scene in the kitchen came
back to him.

Had Mrs. Carlucci put on an act to
misjudge the height of the stove
pipe to deceive him?

Piano wondered.

He decided to watch the house, to
see who came and went, to pick up
something new. ~

So that evening, shortly after dark, the deputy parked
his car across the street and settled down for a vigil.

Hour after hour passed.

A clock nearby in one of the buildings tolled the heat of
midnight.

Suddenly, from his vantage point in his darkened auto,
Piano heard the quick steps of a man, heard him whistling
a tune, and then watched the young man turn into the Car-
lucci home.

He checked the time with his watch. Exactly midnight.

Then, for hours, the deputy sat there.

At 3 a.m. the man came out and walked rapidly away.

What was a man doing in Mrs. Carlucci’s home all that
time?

Was the young widow courting again?

His suspicions now thoroughly aroused, Piano decided to
find out for himself.

For days he watched the house, and each night he saw
the mysterious visitor arrive, remain for several hours, and
then depart at an early hour in the morning.

Finally, after two weeks of watchful waiting, the deputy
decided he had to learn more about the visits. Just how
friendly was the couple? Perhaps the visitor was a relative,
or possibly there was some unexplained business. Other
possibilities suggested themselves to him, and each con-
tinued to whet his curiosity. (Continued on page 43)

tates tain aretha cli alsa tates tite et

Carlucci was forty-nine and his”

ee

IRVING CHARLES CHAPMAN —alias
J.T. Burnett. Wanted by Federa! Bureau
of Investigation to face charges of bank
robbery and violation of national vehicle
theft act. Age, 38; height 5 ft., 7 in.; 152
ibs.; light biue eyes; gray brown hair; cut
Scars on both sides o daa

F.P. Cc. 14- 0 too

f) a W 108 13

“HARRY S. SCHWARTZBERG—alias H.

Voss. Wanted by Federal Bureau of In-
vestigation to face charges of violating
National ‘Bankruptcy Act. Age, 40; height,
5 ft. 6 in.; weight, 165; stocky build; biue
eyes; dark brown hair; medium fair’ com-
plexion.

F. P. Cc. 0 32 W 100 19 Ref: 32

i] Ww iit 238

31

FRONT PAGE LINE-UP

THESE FUGITIVES ARE WANTED
BY J. EDGAR HOOVER'S G-MEN

‘MAURICE DENNING—alias Leon Denning, “Bubbles.” This .man is
wanted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation to face bank robbery
charges. Description: Age, 27; height, 5 ft. 6 in.; weight, 145 ibs.; medium
build; tight brown hair; blue eyes; medium ruddy complexion; occupa-
tion, ‘salesman; nationality, American. If you know the whereabouts of
this man notify the Federal Bureau of ‘nvesttan Cntr

F.P. Cc. : : 12 9 u ol

c 22 uU 00 17

ELMER SYLVESTER DOWLIG—alias “Dutch,” “€1." |\This man is
wanted by the Federal (Bureau of investigation to face charges of un-
lawful flight to avoid prosecution (assault with dangerous weapon).
Description: Age, 31; height, 6 ft. 2 \in.; weight, 204; gray-biue eyes;
biond hair, thin on top; fair complexion; heavy build. If you know the
whereabouts of this man notify the F. B.

F. P. C. 16 20 w 100 Ref: 18

31 w to 31


42

Winnie Ruth Judd, center, trunk mur-
deress, shields her face from camera fol-
lowing her recent escape and voluntary
return to Arizona State Insane Hospital.

told a story that was to do more than
anything else to convince Solicitor
Vandiviere that Dr. Freeman had
meticulously mapped out a murder-
for-money plan.

. On the eighteenth of April, 1939,

Cole related, he had been injured in
an automobile accident on the At-
lanta-Marietta road near Dr. Free-
man’s office. He said he was given first
aid by the physician and later lost
consciousness. When he awoke he
oo himself in the West Side Hos-
pital.

“At the hospital Dr. Freeman treat-
ed me again,” he stated, “then I was
unconscious for twenty-four hours.
When I came to he talked with me
about the future—about what would
happen to my estate if I died. He said
I should make out a will, and I did
that. I made him the executor of my
estate. Later, I learned that the doctor
had taken out $15,000: insurance on
my life.”

Mrs. Pat Thompson, 2a hospital
nurse and friend of the Cole family,
told the prosecutor that the physician
had tried to persuade her to leave
Cole’s room at the hospital. She had
been warned, she said, by members of
the Cole family, not to leave her pa-
tient alone with the doctor.

“When I refused to leave,” stated
Mrs. Thompson, “Dr. Freeman tried
to get me fired.”

Jack Cole, son of the injured man,
told Solicitor Vandiviere that his fa-
ther had been treated by Dr. Freeman
prior to the automobile accident.

“The doctor was with him just be-

fore the crash. He had given father |

injections in the arm from time to
time, and immediately after the acci-
dent he tied a tourniquet on father’s
arm, then gave him a shot of hop.
When father lost consciousness the
tourniquet was allowed to fall from
his arm, I learned later. Soon after he
got to the hospital Dr. Freeman gave
him another injection and he again
lost consciousness.”

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

Later, the youth had discharged Dr.
Freeman and Cole had recovered.

After hearing this evidence, the
grand jury returned another indict-
ment, charging Dr. Freeman with as-
sault upon Cole with intent to commit
murder.

ya DR. FREEMAN stood trial
the last week in July for the mur-
der of Saunders, Judge Harold Haw-
kins allowed testimony on the Cole
case to come out, *

Dr. W. T. Rogers, hospital physi-
cian, appeared in court and testified
that the narcotic administered by Dr.
Freeman could easily have caused
death. Cole himself took the stand and
told how he had learned that one
week before his accident, Dr. Free-
man had taken out a $5,000 travel in-
surance policy on his life, with Free-
man as the beneficiary. On the day

| Secret Agent?

“Nina,” glamorous dancer in Continen-

tal night clubs, is being held in connec-

tion with spy activities in Switzerland.

Two men and another woman-will stand

trial at the same time in Switzerland’s
first major spy case.

before the crash the physician had
taken out the additional insurance.

The jury learned that it was while
Saunders was in the Atlanta hospital,
two months before his fatal accident,
that Dr. Freeman had persuaded the
war veteran to make him executor of
of his “estate” and guardian of his
young son. That the estate consisted
of a potential life insurance policy,
not even as yet purchased, was
proved by the prosecutor. Dr, J. E.
Anderson testified that he had wit-
nessed the signing of the legal papers.

Taking the stand in his own de-
fense, Dr. Freeman admitted havin
drawn up the Saunders will. “
thought he owned property in North
Carolina at that time,” he explained.

Dr. Freeman said he took out in-
surance on both Saunders and Cole to
assure payment for his legal and med-
ical services in the event of the un-
timely death of either man,

The much - married physician, ap- °

pearing as the only witness in his own
behalf, spoke slowly and without
emotion. He had an explanation for
every act, both before and after the
death of Saunders.

He had a ready explanation for
everything except the statement of
twelve-year-old Juanita Smith, who
happened to remember a few words
spoken to her by the physician only
an hour before Saunders lost his life.

“He asked me if there was a fire in
the stove. I said I didn’t think so,” the
child recalled on the witness stand.

“Did he say why he wanted a fire?”
asked Solicitor Vandiviere, who knew
he had something here. There was a
note of intensity in his voice as he
questioned the little girl.

“He said he’d had some matches,
but when he looked for them they
were missing. I told him he’d find a
box near the stove.”

But the doctor had already testified
that neither he nor Saunders had
smoked that morning. In his plea to
the jury he blamed the fire on a spark
from the battery Saunders was in-
stalling at the time. Vandiviere quick-
ly countered this by calling in two
battery men who testified the old
storage battery found in the truck
was incapable of producing a spark.
Undoubtedly the reason Saunders did
not jump from the car was that the
doctor had doped him.

Four hours after the case went to
the jury a verdict of guilty was re-
turned. Jurors recommended mercy.
This means that Dr. Freeman—the
man who planned at least two of the
most cleverly calculated murder-for-
profit plans ever evolved in the South
country—will spend the remainder of
his eventful life in a chain gang.

Less than an hour after Doc Free-
man’s conviction, C. W. Harrison, the
man who had slain his father-in-law
in front of the little store near the
scene of Saunders’ death, pleaded
guilty to manslaughter. and drew a
15-to-20-year term.

Dazed

Howard Tatum, ted in ti

with a Blanco, Texas, bank robbery, is
show in Austin after his capture.
Tatum sits on operating table.

\

ee ee ee. Te) tha ae rer

Sesh

Paap tai Asari oaiestandN At sanded i ppl Wa inukeeMa ace

Bae

See

May and December
Wedding

(Continued from page 30)

So one night, arriving earlier than
he expected, the young man Piano
walked to the rear of the house,
climbed a porch, and crouched out-
side a window on a roof.

A quick glance inside revealed the
room to be a bedroom, and Piano
grinned.

If there was anything more than
just friendship between the couple,
this is where they would come.

A cold wind and a drizzling rain
made Piano’s vigil uncomfortable.
Drenched and shivering, he clung
tenaciously to his post. .

R an hour he crouched on the
smiall roof, and finally his patience
was rewarded.

A light flashed on in the bedroom,
revealing Mrs. Carlucci, trim and
beautiful as ever, standing beside the
man. Her lips were raised to his, and
they kissed each other passionately.

Then, as the amazed = yt
watched, the man turned off the
light.

The long hours, days and weeks of
watchful waiting had been rewarded,
and the deputy felt instinctively now
that somewhere in the crimson, illicit
love that blazed. there in the dark-
ened room lay the answer to all his
questions.

If the man in the bedroom was a
killer, Piano knew that he would
have to be cautious, so he mulled the
angles to the case over in his mind for
several days, unable to decide on a
course of action.

He had no evidence, other than that

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

of illicit relationship between the two, |

and he reasoned, quite justifiably, too,

“that a quick arrest would spoil every-

thing.

The days had lengthened ihto
weeks, and it was now December Ist.

Piano decided that if he was to
question the ney Brgy on that he
—— have to a down to the
jail on some pretext.

So that day, he again parked in
Catherine Street. The young man
drove by, and Piano hailed him.

Walking up to the car, he showed
him his deputy’s badge.

“What do you want me for?” the
young man asked. E Piety,

“Speeding,” Piano said, grinning.

“I wasn’t speeding, and you know
it,” the young man retorted. :

“Oh, yes, you were,” Piano said.
“Come on along.”

The young man produced several
bills.

“Here,” he said, offering the money
to the deputy, “if this is a shakedown,
okay.”

Piano was grim. :

“Listen, young man,” he said.
“There’s been a lot of accidents down
around here lately, and we're stop-
ping everybody who doesn’t drive
just the way they should. You'll have
to come along with me.”

At the jail, Piano questioned the
young man carefully. «a

One question led to another, and
finally the deputy asked:

“Do you know anybody on Cather-
ine Street?”

“Sure I do,” he replied. He became
impatient, and displayed his driver’s
license. :

“My name is Alfred Giallarenzi,”
he said. “Nobody has anything on me,
and I’ve got legitimate business on
Catherine Street. That’s where my

irl friend lives, Angela Carlucci.”

/ “The woman whose husband was
murdered last March?” Piano asked.

“Yes,” Giallarenzi said. “We've

Arrested

Victim of Attacker

od - Ae ams os

Or. Ensang W. Cheng and Florist Henry
J. McCue are shown en route to Woburn,
Mass., jail where they were arraigned
and held in $10,000 each on charges of
illegal surgery in connection with the’
disappearance of Catherine Dulong.

Mario Baltempo of Coraopolis, Pa., is
shown with his daughter, ‘Mary, after he
had been slashed about the head with an
old army sword wielded by Cristy La-
Rocco who ran amuck. Baitempo’s wife,
Libby was killed by the madman.

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MICHAEL PIANO—
The deputy sheriff pictured above did
ie gexcellent work on a difficult case.

: nie eye E

Cr rt
r

directly after the shooting. “This suspect
was evidently from New York City be-
cause he asked about a bus for there,” he
added. “Do you recall seeing your hus-
band with such a man?”

Again the widow shook her ‘head. “I
can’t imagine who that could be,” she
said, “and neither can I think of anybody
who might want to harm Joseph.”

This would have seemed strange to the
investigators if they had not been familiar
with Italian family life. Since they were,
both realized that it was not unusual for
a husband to tell his wife little or nothing
about his activities. For that matter, hus-
bands of various nationalities often use
the same technique.

Deputy Piano saw that Mrs. Carlucci
wasn’t up to going to the morgue and
identifying her husband’s body. Therefore
he questioned her about close relatives of
the slain man who could perform this
necessary duty.

“Carlo Carlucci will do it,” the widow
told him. “He’s Joseph’s brother. Talk
with him. He’ll be able to tell you much
more than I can.” Then she furnished the
brother’s address.

Before the officers left they told Mrs.
Carlucci they would want to question her
the following afternoon. “Try to recall
anything or. anybody who might have a
bearing on this crime,’ Trooper Picard
told her. “Write these things down on
paper as you think of them. The very
thing that appears unimportant to you
might be just the clue we’re looking for.”

ARLQ _CARLUCCI was stunned by the
tragic news of his brother’s violent
death. He found it difficult to believe

that anyone would lure Joseph to lonely
Thompson Road and pump three bullets
into his brain, but when morgue attendants
lifted the sheet from the dead man’s face he
had to turn away. (Continued on page 42)

ANGELA CARLUCCI— :

‘Young woman shown at right proved
that Giallarenzo forced his attentions
upon her. She was witness for State. _ -

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man out, but he finally did?

“Sure, Giallarenzo pulled a gun on me,”
the witness testified. “I made a bet with
him and lost. He wanted the money right
away and I didn’t have it. That’s when
he got tough.” ;

“What kind of gun was it?” Piano asked.

“*A small caliber. Maybe a twenty-five
automatic.” ep i LA

The deputy knew he was getting some-
where at last. All this information was
relayed to District Attorney Martin by
telephone. Then Piano boarded a train
for Syracuse. ney Y

The suspect, held on an open charge,
was questioned at length, and District At-
torney Martin brought the Joseph Carlucci
murder case out in the open.

“Where were you on the night of March
fifteenth?” the prosecutor asked him.

' “Tn New York City,” Giallarenzo an-
, swered flatly. “I didn’t leave there all that
week.”

Martin said he was lying. “I sent a spe-
cial investigator down there to check on
you,” he said. “Your friends had no idea
you were connected with anything as
serious as murder, but they do remember
you were out of town. The records at the
New York Telephone Company bear them
out.” .

Alfred Giallarenzo admitted he had
known Joseph Carlucci. “He was a friend
of mine,” the New Yorker stated. “I was
shocked when I heard he’d been killed.”

But when Deputy Piano arrived back in
Syracuse and all the loose ends of the
investigation were tied in, both he and
‘the prosecutor believed they had their man.

“Angela Carlucci knows more about this
than she’s told,” Martin said. “I don’t
_think she had anything to do with the

but we’ve got to talk to her.”

The comely widow was surprised by this
sudden turn of events. her

“That man posed as your husband’s
friend,” Martin told her, “when in truth
he was in love with you all the while.
He knew how much money Joseph Car-
lucci had in the bank and how much in-
surance would be coming to you. He
murdered your husband to get that money
—and you.”

The words had a telling effect on the
delicate girl. She wiped the tears from her
eyes. Then she said, “At least part of what
you say is true. I liked to go dancing and
have a good time. Alfred used to take
‘me out and Joseph would stay home.”

as she continued, “It was Alfred who came
to see my husband on the night he was
murdered.”

District Attorney Martin called the sus-
pect in and told him what Mrs. Carlucci
had said.

“She’s a liar!” Giallarenzo stormed. “I
wasn’t near Catherine Street that night!”

But those words ‘fell on deaf ears. A
grand jury heard the evidence: a small-
caliber automatic pulled on a fellow worker
who tried to stall on payment of a debt;
witnesses who believed Giallarenzo was
the man seen near Thompton Road. and
DeWitt Cemetery on the fatal night.

Alfred Giallarenzo was indicted for mur-
der in the first degree. He went to trial
in Judge William Dowling’s court on Feb-
ruary 13th, 1934, and was found guilty.

The mandatory sentence was- death in
the electric chair!

The attractive widow had been the
State’s star witness. And she had proven
beyond any doubt that Giallarenzo had
forced his attentions upon her. -She had
no previous knowledge that her admirer
intended to resort to murder.

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CONTINUED

The dog sniffed it, «
into the bush, tuggir
behind him. On, the
the hound lumbered
police, their guns ;
Doc Keen press
pausing, losing the
again. His mournfu.
depths of the bush
backs of guards aro
the swamp. Nerve
fingers impatient.
A_ shadowy - figur
watchful picket line
out, then a shot w
ducked and ran. He
bay, a quaking mem
had been mistaken b
for the fugitive. .:
LL night the manh
crossed the bus!
Keen led the se
but he couldn't fir
times the trail ende:
and again he lost
dank fern pa rt w)
litera
following.
“ Day broke, and ‘|
hound sank to the e
One cop believed
less. “He was a coo
“I wouldn’t be surpri
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posse and got away
, At about four o’cl
ing Alex MacKenzi:


> CONTINUED FROM PAGE 29

“That’s my brother,” he told the officers.

Later on, in District Attorney Martin’s .

~ office, Carlo Carlucci said: “Joseph was in

- the real estate business. I was as close:

to him as anybody in the world and I can
tell you that he had nothing to do with

ae - bootleggers or gamblers. There was a
~*~ substantial bank account, good, insurance

and a solid business. I can’t understand
this shooting tonight.”

-“The driver’s license we found in your
brother’s wallet shows he was fifty years
old,” the district attorney said. “His wife
isn’t more than half that age. Is there

- anything in either of their backgrounds
that could furnish a clue?”

. Carlo -Carlucci was hesitant for only a
- minute. Then he admitted that Joseph
had been married in Italy before coming
to the United States. “His wife and chil-
dren are still living in Italy,”.the brother
stated.

“Are you trying to tell us that Joseph
deserted these people and then married
again in this country without ever getting
a divorce from his first wife?” Trooper
Picard asked. =
The brother said that was correct.

* District Attorney Martin went into this
bigamy angle thoroughly because he knew
that it could provide the- hidden motive
“for Joseph Carlucci’s murder; but Carlo
could only add that the first wife was still

jn Italy and that as far as he knew she

had no close relatives in this country. ~-
It was daylight before the brother left

Z headquarters. He said he would keep in

close touch with the officers and if he
thought of anything else that might help
the investigation along he’d call them at
once. ,

When he was gone Martin said: “This
thing looks like the work of a professional
killer, but it doesn’t seem reasonable that
a wife in Italy would hire such a man to
commit murder. A resentful woman would
be more apt to call on a relative or close
friend to do the job for her.”

Deputy Piano shrugged his shoulders.
“We'll know more about that when we
investigate Joseph Carlucci’s business as-
sociates,” he said.

Although police broadcasts had been

- sent out less than half an hour after the
. shooting, no arrests were made on the

night of the murder. Dr. Howard Fer-
guson’s autopsy showed that three bullets
had entered the right side of the head. The
cause of death was hemorrhage and tear-
ing of the brain tissue. “The gunman had

_the aim of a professional killer,” the cor-
oner added.

EN FROM the district attorney’s office
spent the following day checking into
Joseph Carlucci’s business background

and county, city and State officers returned
to DeWitt Cemetery to look for clues they
couldn’t find in the darkness.

Martin reported that Carlo’s statement
concerning his brother’s finances was cor-
rect. “Joseph had ten thousand dollars in

_ the bank,” he said, “and five thousand in-
surance with his wife as beneficiary. Every-
one Carlucci did business with respected
him highly. It doesn’t seem likely that he
was mixed up in anything shady.”

The search at Thompson Road and De-
Witt Cemetery turned up the most im-
portant clue when Trooper Voight found
a .25-caliber automatic at the base of a
tombstone. Three shells were missing, and

oe : tests showed the gun had been fired re-

- cently.

“But whoever used it wiped all the

oT TRS ERE PS

3 7 5 - one , sae ; ngeroritite "ott atl Piano told Dis- |
KILLER FOR HIRE

~The number was 276954.

trict Attorney Martin. “All we have is

the serial number.”

-’The prosecutor sent a tracer out on the
gun and said that the Carlucci case had
more complicating angles than any he had
ever worked on. “Half the evidence points
to a professional gunman and half doesn’t,”
he added. “Now a hired killer wouldn’t

- leave the scene on foot, and he would

certainly file the serial numbers from the
gun. We've been told that the bandage
found in the lunchroom toilet had powder
marks on it. That’s the way a professional

» would do the job. I don’t know what
to think.” gis

Word came in shortly after that. from
New York City saying the .25 automatic
had been traced to a consignment of wea-
pons that was supposed to have been taken
out on a scow and dumped into the ocean
off Sandy Hook back in 1920. Police had
taken these guns from known criminals.
How it was used to kill Joseph Carlucci
on the night of March 15, 1933—thirteen
years later—couldn’t be explained.

In the days that followed Mrs. Carlucci
was questioned many times. The only new
thing the investigators learned was that
her husband and the mysterious caller had
been laughing and talking before they left.

“That tells us they were friendly,” Dis-
trict Attorney Martin said. “And that’s
all it does tell us.”

Carlo Carlucci talked with the investi-
gators almost daily, but he was as baffled
by the slaying as he had been when they
came to get him to identify the body.

- “Nobody saw the man who went for a
ride with the victim that night,” the district
attorney stated. “We know the gun used
to kill him was supposed to be at the
bottom of the sea. Carlucci’s friends swear
he had no underworld connections. We’re
up a blind alley.”

And that’s the way the case rested for

" the next few months. Martin didn’t forget

it, and neither did Deputy Piano. They
discussed the puzzling angles many times.
One such occasion was late in November
of that same year.

“We missed a clue somewhere,” the dis-
trict attorney told Piano. “There never has
been a perfect crime and there never will
be.. Some criminals are lucky for certain
periods, that’s all.” :

The deputy had to agree. “Sometimes
I can’t sleep just thinking about that riddle,”
he said. “And I’ve often wondered if the
thing we overlooked was the May and
December angle.”

Martin wanted to know what Piano’

meant exactly.

“Well,” the county officer said, “that
young wife was as pretty as a picture. She
didn’t have to marry a man twice her age.
I never did understand that.” =:

The district attorney said: “We had
her house watched for weeks afterwards.
She stayed right there. Nobody suspicious
came in or out. Everybody, including the

brother, thought she loved Joseph Car- |

lucci.”

Piano had to smile. “Maybe it’s time
we started watching her house again. If
she’s still in the clear she’ll. never know
about it. If she’s not, her guard will be
down by now. She seems a woman of
good character to me, but that doesn’t
mean we can eliminate her; in a. murder
case we know that anybody at all can
be a suspect.”

EPUTY PIANO parked his car near
the Catherine Street house that same
night. Along about 8 o’clock a flashy

convertible pulled up and a man got out
and went into the Carlucci place. He was

tall and slim, nothing like the stranger -

in the lunchroom. The second night still

aM Ps OR RE SL raed A OP IH Bee am,

_ completely or released. Martin sent Deputy

. QUESTIONING at the house and Gial-

. _ he owned a gun. This failed, but employes

we ee

another visitor came to see the widow, b
he didn’t fit the description either. “"75
Then on the third night a Chevrolet .
sedan stopped in front of the house and
another man went: in.- Deputy Piano”
couldn’t be sure of anything because of the |
dim lights, but he believed this fellow =
came pretty close to fitting the description
of the wanted man. This and the fact that 3
the third man spent considerable time in #
the Carlucci house led Piano to check the
license plate registration on his car. % Bos.

“Maybe we're getting someplace,” the
deputy told Martin. “That car belongs to
Angela Carlucci—or .at least it did.” 5

The district attorney knew this was”
slim evidence, but he encouraged Piano
to continue the investigation. “Pick the
guy up on some pretense and question
him. The least you'll find out is why he’s
‘driving a car registered in the widow’
name.” : }

The deputy did this on the night of De-_
‘cember ist. The man’s operator’s license %
showed him to be Alfred Giallarenzo, 800
East ‘223rd Street, New York City. ae

“We've had a lot of car thefts up here,”
Piano told him. “Let’s see your, registra-
tion papers.” peat a

When these were produced they showed
Mrs. Carlucci to be the owner. “She’s a ~
good friend of mine,” the man protested.

Piano said they’d have to hold him until
the motor vehicle bureau could complete
an investigation. Meanwhile the deputy’s .
‘suspicions were mounting. a

“This man fits the description we have ~

- better than anybody,” he told Martin. “He’s —
been seeing a lot of the widow, and he’s
just the type of slicker a pretty young —
woman would go for.” :
_ The district attorney decided to play the
hunch for all it was worth. He contacted
the gas-station attendant and Mrs. Sher- -
win, the two people who had seen the
stranger near the scene of the crime.

Both took a look at Giallarenzo and
agreed that he could be the man they saw.
However, neither would go so far as to
make a positive identification.

Mrs. Carlucci had to be summoned be-
cause of the car being registered in her
name. “Alfred is a friend of mine,” she
told the investigators. “I let him take th
car whenever he wants it.”

There was nothing suspicious in the way
she stated this. And certainly it was ail —
right for a widow to see the man, since
her husband had been dead more tha
eight months. poe

All this added up to the fact that Gial-
larenzo would have to be identified more

Piano to New York City to make a quick |
check-up at the East 223rd Street address.

larenzo’s place of business—the New
York Telephone Company — brought

_ out that Giallarenzo had been making trips
to Syracuse for more than a year. Friends
in the metropolis didn’t realize what they
were saying when they told Piano that
Giallarenzo had been going up-state to seé
a “girl-friend” at least that long. +
A more thorough check-up at the tele-
phone company showed that he had been
absent from work on March 15th—the
night of the murder. as
When Piano heard this he went to work ¢
trying to find someone who knew Gialla-.
renzo well enough to recall whether or not =

at the telephone company filled in that gap.5
One man said: “Al was quick tempered:
“He used to bet on everything that cam
along. He always paid off when he los!
and he wouldn’t stand for anybody welch=,
ing when they lost. He pulled a gun om,
one*man.”. «;° ae ees
_: It took Piano a full day to ferret


"es

am jealous of every man who even
glances at you. That is why, instead of
going to the Waldorf Astoria, as I know
I should, I am going to take you to a

‘little hotel on West Forty-sixth Street

where the cooking is excellent, where
no one will know we have just been
married and where we can be quite
alone.”

“It will be perfect, anywhere, with
you, Otto,” she whispered.

What a feast their quiet wedding
supper turned out to be. The planked
steak was perfect, garnished with
eleven fresh vegetables; the champagne
was all that it could be.

Upstairs, he said to her:

“Now I’ve got the best surprise of
all for you. Look!”

@ HE REACHED into his inside pocket

and produced tickets for a trip to
Germany on the North German Lloyd
steamship Amerika,

“It sails on the ninth, honey. Does
that make you happy?”

“Oh, Otto!” was all she could say.

Compared to other transatlantic
vessels, the Amerika was a floating
palace, and the bridal couple enjoyed
with national pride the rich appoint-
ments, the latest conveniences and the
mechanical completeness of the pride
of the New North German Lloyd’s fast
ocean greyhounds.

“It takes us Germans to do it!” ex-
claimed Gebhardt, after an officer had
explained to them the working of one
of the intricate pieces of machinery.
“Thoroughness, that’s the word. Why,
it’s built like a—a Piano!”

“A piano?” echoed the Officer. “Oh, I
see. You mean that it gives out such
harmony, when it works, hey? A good
wit!”

“A piano’s mechanism requires fine
skill from its workmen,” said Gebhardt,

“Ts that your line?” asked the officer.

“No, my husband is an architect!”
spoke up: the bride.

“Yes, I’m an architect. But I have a
friend who once took me through the
Steinway plant over in Long Island
City. It’s a wonderful plant, I tell you.”

“You’ll have to take me through it,
too, Otto!” said his bride.

“Quite so. Quite so,” he said, and
changed the subject.

When they reached Germany, after a
pleasant voyage, the bride insisted that
they do some shopping in Altona, in
Schleswig-Holstein, .

“Mother may be short of blankets and
I want to buy an extra one for us. Be-
sides, I want to get mother a few gifts
just for good luck. She’ll be so pleased,
you. know.”

They remained at a local hotel the
first night in Altona.and in the morning
the bride looked up Herr Schommer,
who operated a general merchandise
store in the big city, From him they
purchased a blanket, a tea tray, a cork-
screw, a platter anda breadbasket. She
gave her name as “Fraulein Anna
Luther” because her husband cautioned
her against saying she was married, for
fear that the news might reach her
family ahead of them that she was
bringing home. a. husband.

“Mother will be so pleased with this

58

tea tray and the breadbasket,” the bride
said excitedly as they left the shop,
laden with the gifts. “I’m going to keep
this bill as a souvenir of our trip. Years
and years from now it will make me
feel so good to take it out and look
at it.”

Two days later, after the beautiful
trip by railroad, when they arrived at
her parents’ home in Weida, in Saxony,
one of the last sights they saw before
the train pulled into the long expanse
of shining rail which led to her home
town, was the river Ilbe, dwindled now
from the great stream on whose bank
Altona was built, the stream in which
the bride as a child had paddled while
on picnics with her parents.

Gebhardat’s reaction to the home and
parents of his bride was disappointing.
From her talk he had pictured a
magnificent country estate with live
stock and rolling fertile lands and many
servants. Instead, the Luther home
turned out to be just a simple country
place, some miles away from Herr
Luther’s place of business. It was a
house, however, to delight the heart of
honest folk, with honeysuckle vines on
a trellis by the front door, and shade
trees and rose bushes and a garden plot
in the rear. And the warmth of the
reception he received should have
shamed him, should have made his con-
science shriek out against that which
he had already done to this sweet and
trustful woman and this hospitable and
honest family.

@“ITIS very pretty here in the sum-

mer,” said Anna, her cheeks aglow
from the heat of the open fireplace in
which heavy logs flamed red, reflecting
the crimson hue upon the andirons with
the carefully polished brass tops. “If
you could only be here then, and in the
fall, when we press the wine! It is so
wonderful!” ’

“Maybe Otto would like to ski or go
for a coasting party,” said her father,
looking inquiringly over his stecl spec-
tacles, while he stroked his pointed dark
beard. “I’m getting along, you know,
but I still enjoy them,”

“T’d like nothing better,” Gebhardt
assured Herr Luther. “It is the simple
things in life that I like best.”

Herr Luther slapped him on the back.

“It is good,” he said. “Simple sports,
good beer, good homely food, a good
wife,” he nudged Gebhardt in the ribs,
“Und die kinder, nicht wahr?”

The bride blushed like a schoolgirl.

“You talk so, Father!” she protested.

The first night there, Herr Luther,
confessing his joy at the marriage of his
daughter to such a likely looking Ger-
man, said to Gebhardt:

“Now, as to the matter of a dowry.
When Anna’s mother and I are gone
she will inherit everything we have,
That you can depend upon. I have con-
siderable fortune invested in stocks and
securities and, to be frank, I would be
glad to turn over some of them to her
now. But, as you have such a good posi-
tion it might be better to have this in-
heritance as an anchor to windward in
case of reverses or sickness. So, I will
give you a modest dowry and alter my
will so that everything I have will be

REE SOR Roi

given to her and her children,”

He went to the old-fashioned secre-
tary, on the polished surface of which
the fitful flames in the fireplace were
dancing in reflection, opened it, and
wrote out a check which he handed to
Gebhardt,

It was a draft for 1500 marks, the
equivalent of $375 in American money.

Gebhardt thanked him, quietly, and
placed the check inside his wallet.

*“Now,” said Herr Luther, “a little
Ktimmel. [t's good for your sleep.”

They drank the sweet, powerful
cordial and Gebhardt then went up-
stairs to join his wife, awaiting him in
their room. She could not see his face
because he prepared for bed beyond the
penumbra of the light of the kerosene
lamp. It was unfortunate that she didn’t
because, in its blackness, she might have
sensed the mortal storm raging then in
his predatory brain.

“Don’t bother me tonight,” he said,
rebuffing her affectionate advances.
“T’m not feeling so well.”

Instantly Anna was all sympathy.

She patted his cheek and ran her
fingers through his hair.

“I know what it is,” she said. “It’s the
air in the living-room. The fire gets so
hot it makes my head ache.”

“That must be it,” he growled, turn-
ing from her and rolling off into sleep.

But Gebhardt wasn’t feeling well for
the remainder of the fortnight spent
with his bride’s people. Anna sensed
that something was wrong and ques-
tioned him about it. But he answered
evasively her sympathetic inguiries and
dampened the ardor of the friendship
everyone displayed by a demeanor
closely akin to surliness,.

Those two weeks were simply packed
with entertainment and wholesome ex-
citement. On fine moonlight evenings
there were sleigh parties, behind the
bays which pulled the sleigh over the
ice so that, at the turns, fire flew from
the sharp runners. And when the
March storms came and kept them con-
fined to the house, there was always
much jollification as neighbors trooped
in, and plenty of good beer and ex-
cellent German cooking to warm the
cockles ofa bridegroom’s heart.

Nevertheless, it was a relief to Geb-
hardt when the date for the departure
arrived.

B WHAT THOUGHTS there were in

his twisted brain lay deep like a
deadly dirk thrust out of sight in the
depths of an ornate sheath,

But if that old secretary in the living-
room could have become articulate, it
might have reported that, after every-
one had retired, on the night of March
5th, Gebhardt wrote a letter, which he
managed to post secretly the following
day, an ominously worded letter, which
read:

Dear wife and child: :

I hope this will find you well as Iam at
present. I will be home some time .about
the fourth or fifth of April. Please try to
get along until then. Can’t come too soon
for me. :

I bring home several household articles
and lots of things for you. Also, several
trunks full of things from a dealer in Ham-
burg.

TRUE DETECTIVE

a ANS a ee tN Rtn et aint,

better
us Wa
“Bu
some |
“Th:
And \
have n
Sud:
“But
hear n
becaus:
He si
“You
going t
“Ves,
now fo
A bal
What
Half
plannin
resoluti:
beyond
himself
about th

APRIL, 194


The night before the de-
parture Herr Luther made
him a present. It was a
pair of German police dogs,
the trained animals that
wore then just beginning
to appear in the United
States. They were a beauti-
ful pair, a bitch and a dog.

“You could earn a pretty
penny breeding these,” said
Herr Luther.

Mrs. Luther spoke up,
“There'll be protection, too,
for both of you and, es-
pecially for Anna when
ycu have your little home.”

The ‘little home” was al-
ready on paper, their son-
in-law had assured them.

“He drew the plans him-
self,” Anna had explained.
“I saw them, too. The house
is to be built on lots he
owns in Jamaica, Long
island.”

She was referring to a
trip they had taken before
their marriage where, in a
Jamaica architect’s office,
Gebhardt had shown her a
set of plans for a beautiful
ewelling, answering every
demand of the young
tausfrau. He had ‘said to her:

“Don’t let this fellow know that you
know it, but I drew the plans myself.
He liked it so he asked me to let him
use them for his own house in Rich-
mond Hill.”

™ IT WAS about this house that the
first bitter quarrel arose the third
day out on the President Lincoln.

“We never decided what color to
make the nursery,” she said to him, as
they were retiring for the night. '

He looked at her coldly, and pin-
points of lights gleamed in his blue
eyes.

“There’s not going to be any nursery,
yet!”

“Why? You don’t mean to tell me
you don’t love children, Otto?”

“They’re too expensive! We haven’t
the money to support them. Besides,
I thought that your father would do
better by us than he did. What he gave
us was very little.”

‘But you told me he explained that
some day I will get everything.”

“That some day is a great way off!
And we can’t raise a family until we
have more money.”

Suddenly her cheeks flamed.

“But there must be a nursery. Do you
hear me? There must be a nursery,
because—because i

He stared at her.

“You mean to tell me that you are
going to have a baby?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I have known it
now for almost three weeks!”

A baby!

What about his two children at home?

Half the night he remained awake,
planning. Before he fell asleep his
resolution had hardened to a degree
beyond that in which he had found
himself when he had written his wife
about the trunkful of clothes.

arin, Ea

"When you fe
the door,'' said

‘When the President Lincoln docked
on April 4th. at Hoboken, New Jersey,
the couple on the passenger list as Mr.
and Mrs. Otto Mueller made quite a
stir with their six trunks and two beau-
tiful pedigreed police dogs. When the
express agent asked Mueller where he
was to send them, Mueller said:

“Send the dogs and the trunks to Mrs.
Frederick Gebhardt at No. 357 Woolsey
Avenue, Astoria, Long Island.”

His bride was in her stateroom busy
with the hand baggage when Gebhardt
ordered the trunks and dogs sent to his
real wife’s residence. |

From the dock at Hoboken they went
direct, by train and trolley car to the
Werpupps in Newark.

The next day, which was April 5th,
Gebhardt, with a farewell peck on
Anna’s sott cheek, informed her he had
to go away on business for a few days.
He went directly to his own home at
Astoria where he found his wife eagerly
awaiting the arrival of the trunk keys
so she could open the six heavy trunks
which had been delivered to her an
hour earlier.

She kissed him warmly and the little
girl, recognizing her Daddy, gave him
a joyous reception in baby talk. Even
the baby gurgled in delight when his
father chucked him under the chin.

@ “THE LITTLE rascal knows me, you
know!” he exclaimed.

“He’d know you better if you’d stay
home,” said his wife, a bit ruefully, but
without the degree of bitterness he gen-
erally detected in her protests.

He fitted the keys to the trunks and
opened them and she began that rum-
maging among them which is ever so
dear to a woman’s heart.

“What beautiful clothes!” she ex-
claimed. “But, Frederick, see! Some
ot them have been worn. And who is

el like telling the truth, knock on
Detective William D. Roddy (above)

A. L.?” she asked, as she
saw the initials sewed into
them.

“That was the owner, a
very rich woman and a
countess,” he explained.
“You keep what you want
and we'll sell the rest and
get much money for them.
They are of excellent ma-
terial.”

He found that his wife
was two months behind in
the rent and the landlord in
an ugly mood. He gave her
the rent money and twenty-
five dollars besides.

“Pll get back to the fac-
tory in a day or so and we'll
soon have the money com-
ing in,” he promised.

“Did it do you any good to
go to Germany?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“J wish that the next time
you go you would take me.”

He turned sharply and
looked at her.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I
will!”

He found that he was
really glad to be home
again, with his wife and
babies. Despite the sloven-
liness and the quarrels and the nagging,
Gebhardt knew that his wife. could
cook as no one else he ever met. And,
deep in his nature, there was real
affection which only his babies could
unlock. Now, after the absence, it
gushed in him like a purifying spring
and washed away the consciousness of
what he had done, and filled him with
a nostalgic longing that within the con-
fines of these four walls he might for-
ever be safe from the temptations and
emotional conflicts between decency
and outlawry which ever raged beyond
this threshold.

@ THE DOGS, too, delighted him. He

took them for walks and started
to instruct them in tricks. The neigh-
borhood opened its eyes at them; there
was no one in the entire section who
did not talk about the foreign police
dogs. The rumor grew that Gebhardt
was some sort of a detective or opera-
tive of the secret service. No one knew
just what his job was. His wife had
been close mouthed about that. He had
always kept aloof from even his near-
est neighbors.

After three days at home, Gebhardt
announced that he had to go away
for a day on business.

“But Vl be back tomorrow!” jhe
promised, ‘Look for me at supper time
and, remember, sauerbraten!”

His little girl waved her hand just
like her mother as he walked down
the road.

As he hurried along, there was some-
thing that hung heavily under his left
shoulder, the butt of which pressed
against his coat as it swayed in its
holster, its chambers filled with deadly
dum-dum bullets.

Gebharat’s jaw was set and his mouth
was grim and a strange light burned
in his blue (Continued on page 79)

59

sonata Se

a4


falcata dd

i

Pers

- tense. ‘You have the gall

* Since six o’clock I’ve been

Woolsey Avenue, Astria,
Long Island. In the
mother’s arms was the
baby, Frederick Junior.
Another child, Anna, then
two years old, was walk-
ing about the kitchen with
uncertain steps.

“Why don’t you keev the
brat clean?” he asked
harshly, in his native
tongue, his face dark wit
anger. “I give'you enough
money to even hire a maid
to help. I’d rather that
you made me poor than
the husband of a slattern.
Look at your stockings!
Ach! You give me the joys
of married life like that
fellow writes about in the
newspaper!”

“Hold your tongue!” re-
torted his wife, her face

to come home here at ten
o’clock and lecture me!

holding your supper. How
do I know but what you’ve
been out sporting with
another woman? I was a
fool to marry you!”

He strode across the
kitchen and loomed over
her threateningly.

“What is stopping you?”
she asked, defiantly.

Frederick Gebhardt, for
that was his true name,
looked down at her.

He raised his hand as if
to strike her but thought better of it
and walked into the dining-room, call-
ing, “Give me my food and let me get
out of your sight!”

After Mrs. Gebhardt had set his din-
ner before him she sought to placate
him.

“You shouldn’t be so cross with me,
Frederick. I may not look as good as
some men’s wives because I am trying
to save money for you and our chil-
dren’s future.”

“Why save? Don’t I always bring
home enough? Has the Steinway Piano
factory in Long Island City got any
better workman?”

Mrs. Gebhardt, her features soft and
pleasant in the rich glow of the gas
mantle light, placed her red and worn

- fingers upon the hairy arm of her hus-
- band. A serious note crept into her voice.

™ “I MEAN no offense when I say it,
husband, but you like your pleasure

_ so much that you are heedless of what

goes on about you. Do you know you

’ are in danger of losing your job in the
_ near future?”

Gebhardt held the fork-impaled piece
of apple pie above his plate.

“Was sagst du?”

The woman’s hands pressed upon his
wrist and her eyes looked up into his.

“You are working in a piano factory.
But what about this gramophone which
Mr. Edison is selling to everyone with
a little money? What about that?”

Gebhardt thrust the pie into his
mouth and chewed away.

56

"You do everything so perfectly," said trusting
Anna Luther (above) to the man she later married

His wife made a deprecatory gesture.

“Es ist mir zu lachen!” she said.

“What has the phonograph got to do
with my job?”

Mrs. Gebhardt shook her head sadly.

“Just this. As this talking machine
comes in, the piano will go out. When
the piano goes out, the manufacturers
will cut down on the help and out you
go—because there’ll be no job!”

Gebhardt sprang to his feet, his chair
falling backward with a crash.

“Crape hanger!” he shouted. “I’m
going out to find peace of mind!” He
rushed into the hall, donned his fall
topcoat, and strode out, banging the
door behind him.

But “Otto Mueller” was nothing at
all like Frederick Gebhardt when he
met Anna Luther a few nights later at
a rendezvous in New York City. And
when he faced her across the homely
tablecloth they laid in those days at
Luchow’s restaurant on Fourteenth
Street, no one would have suspected, his
beautiful companion the least of all,
that he was not the “footloose and fancy
free” man of the world.

He impressed her more this night
with his perfect table manners and his
healthy boyish appetite. He was a gour-
mand, quite obviously, but he had the
delight of a child in everything he ate,
and the way he raved over the Lieder-
krantz cheese would have given her
father tears of joy.

_ “Ach! If my father could but see you
eat that cheese!”

“But there’s no place in the world

which serves finer! The
right temperature, and
that is very important! It
can be too cold, you know.
The right body, too; just
soft enough to. spread,
hard enough to have firm-
ness! And the flavor!”

He had enthused equally
over the hasenpfeffer.

“Just a wee bit too much
thyme in it,” he bad com-
mented, only to fall to
with a will that would
have eclipsed the appetite
of a hungry sailor.

The beer there, too, was
perfect, as palatable as
that each had once en-
joyed in the beer gardens
back home. It was in the
days before they sealed
amber fluid in a can and
doctored the taste with
chemicals. ‘

After the supper they
went to Proctor’s and en-
joyed Eva Tanguay, and
her “I Don’t Care” song,
and other features of high
class vaudeville.

“Let’s. go to Union
Square and sit on one of
the benches,” he sug-
gested. “The night is so
beautiful. It is more like
spring than fall.”

It was quiet and lovely
in the park, under the
trees, which still bore
their green; and_ they
found themselves almost
alone, with empty benches every-
where.

“You know, a woman would take
much pleasure in cooking for you,” she
said. :

“Why do you think so?”

“It is easy to cook for the man with
a healthy appetite. It is the dyspeptic
who just can’t ever be satisfied.”

He patted her hand.

@ “YOU MAKE me hungry for a meal
cooked by you.”

“Maybe you have a friend in whose
house I could cook a dinner sometime
for you?” :

“Well, maybe.” He became quiet. He
was thinking of the really excellent
meals his wife always had for him. He
was thinking how the cook stove had
helped to make her frowzy and un-
presentable. He was wondering just
what cooking would do to this soft hand
he held in his, so white and so warm
and so well manicured!

“A penny for your thoughts.”

He started out of his reverie.

“T’d rather have a maid cook the food
for:us if we——”

He hesitated and she, sensing what
was coming, moved closer to him. She
looked up into his face.

“You were saying something, Mr.
Mueller?”

He placed his arm about her and she
offered no resistance.

“Please call me Otto,” he said.

“Yes, if you will call me Anna.”

She whispered the name softly,

TRUE DETECTIVE

“An
you,”’
She
“To:
“Te
cause
“T do !
would
I think
anywa:
She
“You
he whi
“In
marrie

@ THE
beg:
his dec:
addres:
her of
Jersey.
and h
Schwei
as “Ott
He fc
“Whe
Newark
And the
the waa
municat
phone, b
little im
of ever
don’t li!
Anna
“Som
joking,
Even li
about it
going to
spring!
sorry, t
never {
sonal m
much, '
of her?”
ort Ww
if she v
for a thi
your we
said.
She |
his face
“To hi
would t!
crazy o\
He toc
Werpu)
giving d
comfort
Newark
South 6:
the at
“shower
gifts for
s@eau we
wine w;
down
bird. C
guests ¢
served.
Schweik
tleton
He calle
after th:
to him:
“Hen
marry |
Hasn’t h
somew!

APRIL, 194


neal

hose
time

. He
ilent
i. He
had
un-
just
hand
yvarm

PHC TIVE

“Anna,” he said, ‘you know I love
you.”

She nodded.

“How soon can you marry me?”

“tT could marry you right away be-
cause I, too, am in love,” she replied.
“I do love you, Otto. But, perhaps you
would get tired of me then too quickly.
I think we’d better wait a few months,
anyway.”

She kissed him tenderly.

“You won't make me wait too long?”
he whispered.

“In the spring,
married.”

Otto, we will be

@ THE FOLLOWING day Gebhardt

began the task of making fool proot
his deception. He established a mailing
address at the Y. M. C. A. He spoke to
her of his friends in Newark, New
Jersey, the Werpupps, and Miss Kramer
and his very good triend Gottlieb
Schweikert. They, too, knew him only
as “Otto Mueller.”

He found the alias handy.

“When we are married we'll go to
Newark for the ceremony,” he said.
And then, as if by an afterthought, “By
the way, dear, when you want to com-
municate with me at the Y, do not tele-
phone, because the boy at the phone isa
little imp who tells of the love affairs
of everyone to everyone else, and I
don’t like it. Write to me, always.”

Anna smiled up at him.

“So my strong boy is afraid of a little
joking, yes? Well, I can understand.
Even Mrs. Seligman joked with me
about it when I said 1 was
going to get married in the
spring! But she was so
sorry, too. She said she’d
never find another per-
sonal maid she likes so
much. Wasn’t that sweet
of her?”

“It would be sweeter
if she wrote you a check
for a thousand dollars for
your wedding present,” he
said.

She playfully
his face.’

“To hear you talk, one
would think that you were
crazy over money.”

He took Anna to sce the
Werpupps on Thanks-
giving day, 1907, and the
comfortable home of his
Newark friends at No. 199
South 6th Street, took on
the atmosphere of a
“shower,” SO Many smal!
vifts for the bride’s trous-
seuu. were made as the
wine was passed to wash
down the well-cooked
bird. Only one of the
guests seemed a bit re-
served. He was Gottlieb
Schweikert of No. 330 Lit-
tleton Avenue, Newatrk.
He called the host aside
after the dinner and said
to him:

“Henry, how cah Otto
marry this little woman?
Hasn’t he got a wife living
somewhere On Long

slapped

avn, ED?

Flames swept th
yet the haunted man's

Island? Seems to me I’ve heard of one.”

“Oh, you must be joking! I never
knew of any wife he had. Aren’t you
mistaken?”

“P]] ask him on the quiet.”

Schweikert drew Gebhardt aside.

“How can you marry this woman
when you have a wife now?”

“Who said I will marry her?”

“Isn’t that your intention?”

“Listen, Gottlieb, she’s no child! She’s
twenty-eight years old. She knows
what she is doing. Besides, I have
begun divorce proceedings. I have my
interlocutory decree and it will be
effective by February Ist. Vll marry
her afterward.”

“Have you told her?”

“No, and I am not going to do so! It
doesn’t make any difference, does it, if
our marriage is legal?” .

Schweikert shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s your concern, after all. I just
wondered how you could get away with
it, that’s all.”

“It'll be all right, and I’d appreciate
it if you would keep it in the dark that
Iam married. Henry doesn’t know and
I don’t want him to know.”

So it happened that Schweikert did
keep it in the dark and told Henry
Werpupp that he had been mistaken
about Mueller’s wife.

Gebhardt gave Anna Luther no be-
trothal ring. Instead, he said to her:

“J don’t want to worry you abcut a
diamond ring, sweetheart. I may not
give you one until after our marriage.
Hans Webber, one of my dearest friends,

e woods in which a dark secret lay,
fears were unquenched

who lives in Brooklyn, a diamond cut-
ter, has insisted for years that I
leave the matter of an engagement ring
to him if I ever found the right girl;
he’s in Europe, traveling for his health,
and may not return until the warm
weather comes again. When he comes
back T’ll get you something you'll’ be
proud of. Of course, I can buy you one
of these cheap rings for a hundred
dollars or so until then if you wish
but——”’

“No! No! You do it your way,” she
exclaimed, her eyes shining. “You do
everything so perfectly I know that the
ring will be just the most wonderful
ring in all the world. It can wait until
after we are married.”

Anna Luther saw no grim significance
in his failure to buy her an engagement
ring, the significance of which caused’
even the man who called himself Otto
Mueller to tremble.

Did he dare do it? j

Could he get away with bigamy?

Was this little woman with the
creamy complexion and the fragrant
blond hair worth the candle?

M EVIDENTLY HE thought so, if there

was no other further plan lurking in
the dark recesses of his mind, for he
married Anna Luther, under the name
of Otto Mueller, in Newark, on Feb-
ruary 6th, 1908. The Reverend Max
Hersch, pastor of St. Paul’s Evangelical
Lutheran Church, performed the cere-
mony, in the parsonage at No. 213 Fair-
mont Avenue. Mary Kramer, a nurse,
and Margaret Duschauser,
a friend of the Werpupps,
stood as witnesses at the
quiet wedding.

“you got your divorce
all right?” asked Schwei-
kert, who had got wind
of the ceremony and
greeted them afterwards.

The bridegroom was
very much annoyed.

“Ater all, what business,
is it of yours?”

Schweikert flushed,
hesitated and walked
away.

Gebhardt rejoined his
bride and they entered a
hansom cab for the start
of their honeymoon.

’ “Why were you so angry
with your friend Herr
Schweikert?”

Gebhardt smiled, com-
placently.

“He made a remark
about us which was be-
yond the privileges of
friendship, that was all.
You know, darling, some
men think a wedding cere-
mony gives them the right
to parade all their ribald
jokes in public. I don’t.
T merely put him in his

place.”

She moved closer to
him.

“You are so, so sensi-
tive.”

“T can’t help it. And 1
love you so much that I

57

Bs

nief, and
1ext day
gs.

k up this
Astoria,”

tives’ re-
in front
2no lace
ear and
ress on
ingman §
ief-s 1
ill back
rompers
with a
te looked

I started
sprang
ir of the

S a Man

twenty-
door and
asked if

swered
ted her-

see him
had two
buy one

but I

cottage.
here. So
a drink

1e house.

I put my

| Otlessly
sh
h, for on
initials

ibt that
and the
1e glass
empty.
nore in-

I left
tumbler

2n =who
cant lot
rdt had
iv a few
the rest
em ina
iles dis-
rocious-
had be-
{ during
ica, and
mission
kennels,
int their
dogs, he
em into

leard of
aey also
1e Long

When
a pho-
t of us

e those

shouted.

You can
to.”

p them

where you are taking them.”
and accepted my silent invitation to jump
into the taxi.

“By George, there are the home kennels!”

He grinned,

he exclaimed. “Let’s take a shot of them
there.”

We posed the dogs each near its kennel.
Just before the flash exploded, I peered into
the gloom. It seemed to me that I saw some-
thing lurking in the shadows.

Then, there in the brilliant splash of light
which followed, I saw Scharferlein, alias
Mueller, alias Gebhardt. Before he had a
chance to move | was upon him,

We had a pretty little tussle there in the
yard, for he put up a stiff battle. Momen-
tarily I expected the dogs to join in and tear
me to pieces, but the photographer, who was
a hetty chap, got hold of them and I man-
aged to get my prisoner into the house
safely. Within an hour he was lodged in the
Suffolk County jail. ;

For two days he obstinately refused to
talk. The Werhuffs identified him as the man
who had married Anna Luther and we

could, of course, hold him on a bigamy
charge. When we proved that he was a
second offender, a mighty stiff sentence

would be dealt out to him. However, we
weren't at all keen on complicating the mur-
der charge with the lesser one of bigamy.

That man was one of the hardest I ever
met. Night after night and day after day we
took turns in questioning him.

Around midnight of the fourth day, when
I was questioning him, he asked to see Cor-
oner Savage. The coroner came over im-
mediately.

“Say,” Gebhardt demanded as soon as the
doctor appeared. “can you get mea sentence
for manslaughter instead of electrocution if
I make a statement of the facts?”

Not the slightest trace of emotion sounded
in his voice; he made the inquiry as casually
as if he were discussing the sale of one of
his dogs.

“Well, you stand a much better chance,”
the coroner replied after a moment's hesita-
tion of astonishment. “I can’t promise you
anything definite, but I'll do my best to miti-
gate the sentence. Besides, you owe it to
your wife and children to take advantage of

every opportunity for a lighter sentence
than the chair.”

“All right.” the prisoner replied care-
lessly. “I'm getting sick of this. I'll come

through.”
The coroner called Captain Coughlin, who
arrived with Thomas Murray within a
couple of hours.
And around 3 o'clock in the
Gebhardt made his ghastly

morning
statement.

TO ALL STATE
AND POLICE
OFFICIALS

The Line-Up Department is for your use.
We want to help you catch your Public
Enemies—send in photos and descrip-
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we publish a picture in MASTER
DETECTIVE, 500,000 readers immedi-
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than 325 fugitives have been captured
by MASTER DETECTIVE and its asso-
ciate magazine, True Detective!

Here are his exact words as taken from
the stenographic record:

About December, 1907, I first met Anna
Luther. We were married in February,
1908. She went to Henry Werhuft’s in New-
ark, New Jersey, to spend a day or two. On
the pretense that was going to rent an
apartment for us to live in I returned to my
home and wife in Astoria.

Imet Anna Luther again on April 8th and
we went to _an address on Thirty-fourth
Street, New York City, and from there we
went to Jamaica. We stayed in Jamaica
until the next day.

April 9th we went to Bay Shore and
walked about and I showed her some prop-
erty I said I owned. I got into an argument
with her about some money matters and I
turned and wanted to go back. She followed
me up, screaming, and I shot her in the head,
I didn't look at her and do not remember
whether I shot her more than once.

I remember after I went to the Islip depot
and took a train for home it was nearly dark.
On my way home I threw the revolver out
of the car window.

I want to state that I did not kill Anna
Luther for her money as the newspapers
have stated. My original reason for marry-
ing Anna was that I didn’t care to be with
my first wife any longer, but as she—my
first wife—had given me a child, my desire
to again see my child caused me to want to
get rid of Anna, and then return to my
first wife and child.

This is the reason that I shot Anna Luther
and I told her in Bay Shore that I was mar-
ried and had a wife and must leave her.

She screamed and ran after me.and kissed
me and wanted me back—and I shot her.

This statement is made of my own free
will without any hope of recompense being
offered me.

(Signed) FREDERICK GEBHARDT.

Witnessed by John P, Coughlin, Acting
Captain, Thomas Murray, William D, Roddy,
Detective.

Sworn to before me the 25th day of Octo-
ber, 1909. Edward W. Bull, Notary Public.

“And you shot her when she came up to
you and kissed you?” someone asked in a
horrified voice.

“Yes,” he answered impatiently. “She
told me she loved me and kissed me. As she
put her face up to kiss me again, I shot her
in the head.”

A horror-stricken silence followed,

“Tell me something,” I asked at last. “Why
did you leave the body with so many marks
of identification upon it? Didn't you know
that you would be traced through those?”

He considered the matter for a moment.
“Well, I did go back once or twice,” he ad-
mitted. “I went to the place where I shot
her, but the body wasn’t there. She must
have managed to crawl along quite a bit
before she died.”

The “quite a bit” proved to be half a mile
when we later measured the distance be-
tween the point where she was shot and the
place where the little Schmidt boy found the
body.

Although Gebhardt appeared to be bru-
tally frank in his statement, he wasn’t ex-
actly accurate. Anna Luther had possessed
a large sum of money which had disap-
peared; her fine embroidered linens and
much of her clothing were found in the
Gebhardt cottage, where we also found the
gun which the murderer had stated he had
thrown out of the window.

The jury who heard the case decided
there was no question of the cold-blooded
monster’s guilt, and two months later he
paid for his crime in the electric chair.

The mysterious lunchroom Romeo whom
we had encountered on our first expedition
to Central Islip, and who had figured so
prominently in our subsequent suspicions,
added an interesting sidelight when the
case was finally solved. His resemblance
to the murderer, Frederick Gebhardt, was
more than a mere coincidence, for he turned
out to be the brutal slayer’s third cousin.
Of course, he was innocent of any com-
plicity in the murder at Central Islip.

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79

‘ls body was found.

urs, but a big dog could

the surrounding terrain
» tattered remains of the
i to be of good material
style and workmanship.
tls.

pockets was still intact,
iall slip of yellowed paper

it appeared to be a sales
ruled lines was printed
ot make it out and turned

eld the slip close. “O-t-t-o
it. “The rest is indistin-

Dr. Savage renewed the
scovery. Lying under the
portion of the skeleton
. blue enamel fleur-de-lis
tened to the victim’s coat.
wnt lid of the watch and
. few turns.

* he pointed out. “That
iin, the watch could have
to have run down com-

_ va sudden shock or jolt

‘n the back lid, he found
inside it with some sharp

ve could tie up these two
yna,’” he said, “we might

declared. “Those letters

scratched on the watch lid look like German script—and ‘Schomm’
is a German name. Wouldn't it follow that the victim probably
was a girl of German birth-or descent?”

“That’s quite probable,” Havens agreed. “But there may be
more clues in the one place we haven’t covered—underneath the
bones. Let’s have a look.”

Gently the offiecrs lifted the two portions of the skeleton,
piece by piece, and deposited. them several yards away. Then,
examining closely the spot where the upper part of the remains
had Jain, Havens made still another discovery. Partly imbedded
in the ground was a flattened, soft-nosed bullet.

“This must have been the cause of death,” the constable ob-
served, hefting the missile which he judged to be of .32 calibre.
“No doubt it was,” the coroner nodded. “The skull shows no
bullet holes, but the slug could have struck a vital spot by entering
through the abdomen or between the ribs.”

“Then,” concluded Havens, “it could have ‘remained in the
body until decomposition set in, when with no flesh to retain it,
the bullet would fall through to the ground.”

“Let’s get back to town and notify the District Attorney,” said
Dr. Savage. “This seems to be murder!”

ETURNING to his office in Islip, the coroner telephoned
District Attorney George H. Furman in the Suffolk County
seat at Riverhead, 35 miles eastward, and reported briefly what
he and Constable Havens had found. Then, ordering a deputy
to return to the scene and bring the skeleton to the town morgue
for an autopsy, Dr. Savage set out with Havens in his car for
Riverhead to confer with Furman.
The district attorney was waiting for them in his office when
they arrived and quickly drew from the officers additional details
of their gruesome discovery.
“From what you tell me, the woman undoubtedly was mur-
dered,” Furman agreed. “The German angle looks promising,
too, with the watch, the bill of sale and the foreign-looking clothes
all pointing to it. We
ought to put the New
York police to work
on that angle right
?. away.”

Picking up his
phone, the district at-
torney put through a
long distance call to
Brooklyn, the nearest
New York City divi-
sional police head-
quarters, and asked
for Detective Capt.’
John.D. Coughlin, a
personal friend of his.

“We have a tough
murder case out here,
Jack,” Furman. said.
“The victim is an un-
identified woman who
appears to have a
German background. :
Perhaps you. could

7 check the German

murderer had
three names and nine. wives.

Jutting-jawed

consulate for us.”

“I'd like to send one‘of my. men out there first to see what
he can develop,” Coughlin replied over the wire. “That way, he
can bring whatever leads he finds back here and follow them up.
The man J have in mind is Bill Roddy.”

“Good enough,” said Furman. “Send him direct to my office.”

“He’s off duty now,” Coughlin responded, “but he’ll be out
there the first thing tomorrow.”

At 7:30 the next morning, Detective William Roddy stepped
off a Long Island Rail Road train at the Riverhead station. Tall
and husky, he wore a small black mustache and a black bowler
hat. The date was October 19, 1909.

When Roddy walked into the district attorney’s office, Furman *
was waiting for him with Constable Haven and Dr. Savage. The
prosecutor had spread out on his desk the clues—the faded sales
slip, the woman’s gold watch and the fragments of cloth from

the dress and the coat—and he explained each one as he outlined-

the case to the New York detective. .

Roddy chewed an enormous black cigar as he examined the
clues. Then, with a grunt, he spoke for the first time.

“You're probably right about that German angle,” he acknowl-
edged. “Something else here tends to confirm it.” He picked up
the gold watch and snapped open the back lid again.

“You'll notice that the regulator bears the letters ‘A... R’,”
he pointed out. “Our watches, in the same place, have ‘F...S’,
meaning ‘Fast ... Slow’. But ‘A...R’ stands for ‘Advance...
Retard’. Swiss: watches carry those abbreviations in French, so
that’s a tip-off this is a Swiss watch. However, Swiss watches
for export to Great Britain and America are marked with the
English abbreviations ‘F .. . S’. So we know, then, that this watch
was sold somewhere on the European continent. And from the
script in which the owner’s initials are scratched inside the case,
it probably was sold
in Germany.”

Expressing admira-
tion for Roddy’s de-
duction, Havens and
Dr. Savage took the
detective out to the
constable’s car and
drove to the secluded
grove where the skel-
eton had béen found.
As they walked
through the woods
toward the gully, Rod-
dy stopped short. Di-
rectly in front of him
was a street sign read-
ing “Broadway and
28th Street.”

“What on earth is
that thing doing out
here in the woods?”
he demanded.

Havens smiled wry-
; ly. “A realty com-
pany is developing this land. as a residential site,” he explained,
“but apparently they haven't got very far with it. All they’ve
done so far is to sell a few lots.” "

Roddy pondered this angle. “It’s entirely possible,” he sug-

Detective Wm. Roddy traced
man from Germany to Astoria.

gested, “that the slain woman was a customer of the real estate °

company. That’s one point we'll have to check.”

The officers led the detective over the ground at the scene of
the body’s discovery, and he studied the terrain carefully. Then,
at his request, they walked back to the car and drove to the local
office of the realty development company in Islip. There, Havens
introduced Roddy to the manager, a dapper little man with: a
small, wax-pointed mustache.

“Have you sold many of the lots around Broadway and 28th
Street in your development?” the detective asked.

The manager beamed. “Oh, yes,” he replied. “Three of those
have been sold to Mrs. Martha Leitzau of New York and the
rest to Frederick Gebhardt of Astoria.”

. Roddy exchanged a knowing look with Havens and Savage at
the disclosure that the lots had been sold to persons with German
names.

Outside the real estate office, Roddy turned to Havens and
Savage. “I don’t think there’s anything more to be developed
out here right now,” he told them. “I'm going to take the next
train back to New York and call on the German counsul.”

The offices of the German consulate were at 17 Battery Place,
on the lower tip of Manhattan Island. There Roddy laid the
facts of the case before Consul General Karl Benz, an efficient,
precise official typical of the German diplomatic corps before

the Hitler regime.

Benz studied the words Roddy had copied from the sales receipt
found in the slain woman’s pocket. “Otto Schomm—Altona,”
he repeated with a slight accent. “Hm-m-m.” Then he reached
for an atlas of Germany and turned the pages intently.

Stopping at one page, he ran his finger down the legend beside
a colored map. “Here it is!” he said (Continued on page 46)

17


<

GEBHARDT,

16

At murder scene, a lonely woodland near Islip.

Frederick,

By JIM FERRIS

HE PUNGENT SMELL of burning leaves was in the air

and a gray haze obscured the setting sun in the autumn-

tinged forest near Islip, Long Island, N. Y. A middle-aged

woodcutter strode down into a gully to start work on the

limbs of a tall chestnut tree which would make admirable
fuel for the fireplaces of the big estates nearby.

At the end of the gully he stopped abruptly and looked down-
ward. What he saw made his flesh crawl. Lying there amgng
the leaves was a human skeleton, its whitened skull grinning up
at the sky.

Half an hour later, the woodcutter returned to the scene of
the shocking discovery with a party of officers including Town
Constable Nicoll D. Havens and Coroner William B. Savage.

The coroner knelt to examine the remains. The sun-bleached
bones were bare of flesh, but fragments of a black dress and a
black coat still clung to them. Around the neck had been tied
a man’s black silk muffler, now in shreds. The lower part of the
skeleton was missing.

Dr. Savage studied the few wisps of hair adhering to the skull
and noted the perfect, well-kept teeth.

“I'd judge this woman was a blonde about twenty-five years
old,” he said at length. “My estimate would be that the body has
Jain here not less than six months and not more than a year.
But as to the manner of death, there’s no clue other than the
man’s silk muffler, which may have been used to strangle her.”

Havens shouted to the coroner and the others from a spot
five yards away, and they joined him. The -constable had found
the rest of the skeleton—the dead woman’s leg bones, to which
were still attached the remains of black leather‘ pumps. Dr.
Savage examined them carefully.

“One of these bones has been chewed by some animal,” he
concluded, “but it’s impossible to say whether that occurred before
or after death. There’s a possibility the victim was attacked and
killed by the animal, although it’s unlikely. I haven’t known of

CRIME DETECTIVE, July, 1951

Long Island, arrow shows where a girls body was found.

a bear or a wolt in these parts for years, but a big dog could
have done it.”

The officers turned their attention to the surrounding terrain
in a search for possible clues. From the tattered remains of the
victim’s clothing, her garments appeared to be of good material
and well made, probably of foreign style and workmanship.
Perhaps significantly, they bore no labels.

Noting that one of the woman's coat pockets was still intact,
Havens delved into it and withdrew a small slip of yellowed paper
which he held up to study.

All writing on the slip had faded, but it appeared to be a sales
receipt of some sort. Above the faintly ruled lines was printed
the name of a merchant. Havens could not make it out and turned
to Dr. Savage.

The coroner adjusted his glasses and held the slip close. “O-t-t-o
S-c-h-o-m-m_ A-l-t-o-n-a,” he spelled out. “The rest is indistin-
guishable.”

Havens pocketed the paper and with Dr. Savage renewed the
search. Shortly they made a second discovery. Lying under the
leaves a short distance from the upper portion of the skeleton
was a small gold watch, attached to a blue enamel fleur-de-lis
pin by which it apparently had been fastened to the victim’s coat.

The constable snapped open the front lid of the watch and
studied the face, then gave the stem a few turns.

“The hands stopped at three-fifteen,” he pointed out. “That
could be the time of death, or then again, the watch could have
gone on running. But it doesn’t seem to have run down com-
pletely.”

“In that case,” suggested Dr. Savage, “a sudden shock or jolt
could have stopped it.”

Havens nodded. Then, snapping open the back lid, he found
the irregular letters “A. L.” scratched inside it with some sharp
instrument.

The constable pondered. “If only we could tie up these two
clues, ‘A. L.’ and ‘Otto Schomm—-Altona,’” he said, “we might
have a good lead.”

“I see a connection,” “Those letters

Dr. Savage declared.

scratched on
is a German
was a girl of

“That’s quit

more clues in
bones. Let’s }
Gently the
piece by piece
examining clo
had Jain, Hav
in the ground
“This must
served, hefting
“No doubt
bullet holes, b:
through the at
“Then,” cor
body until dec
the bullet wor
“Let's get b
Dr. Savage.

ETURNIN(‘
District A:
seat at Riverh
he and Const:
to return to th
for an autops)
Riverhead to
The district
they arrived a:
of their grues:
“From what
dered,” Furm:
too, with the «

Jutting-jaw:
three name

consulate for
“Td like to
he can develop
can bring what
The man I ha:
“Good enoug
“He’s off dt
there the first |
At 7:30 the
off a Long Isla
and husky, he
hat. The date
When Roddy
was waiting for
prosecutor had
slip, the woma


I assured him that it would, very much.
He went to a desk which stood by the win-
dow and, opening a small drawer, took out
an ordinary cabinet-sized picture. “Here it
is, and it is fairly like her, though it makes
her look more’ Wuxom than she was, and
really does nvt do her justice. She had
very beautiful hair which was the color of
corn silk and waved naturally. Her eyes
were a deep sapphire blue, and her com-
plexion was naturally pink and white.”

Putting the picture in my pocket, I
thanked Anna Luther’s former employer,
and, reminding him of his promise to give
the lunchroom man the once-over, I de-
parted.

I went back to police headquarters and
wrote out my report.

Visiting the rogues’ gallery, I looked over
the collection representing men who spe-
cialized in duping servant girls. An extraor-
dinary assortment, there: All types were
represented.

One, under the name of Fritz Scharfer-
lein, ‘occupation cabinet maker, usually
employed in piano factories,” bore a strik-
ing resemblance to the description given me
by Mr. Werhuff and that of the lunchroom
cashier. This man had been sentenced to
Sing Sing twelve years before for bigamy
and larceny. Although the sentence called
for seventeen years, it had been reduced
later to five.

At that time I was engaged principally
in the Fingerprint Department, and I was
kept busy for awhile on other cases. Then
Captain Coughlin again called me in on the
Luther case.

“We have received full information from
the Hamburg Police on that Islip murder,”
he said, tapping a sheaf of papers on the
desk. “It seems that the man Mueller rep-
resented himself as a piano manufacturer
to the woman’s parents. Said he had bought
a site on Long Island and intended building
a factory there. They gave him most of
their savings—which were considerable—
and also several presents. Among these
were two valuable police dogs.”

“T’ll bet the man is Fritz Scharferlein, who
was sentenced for bigamy twelve years
ago,” I exclaimed. My hunch had come
through.

The captain leoked up sharply. ‘“‘What do
you mean?”

I explained to him briefly my hunt
through the pictures in the rogues’ gallery.

“Well, I'll put men on the
trail through the piano fac-

to take up the trail of the two dogs.

Crossing to Hoboken, I made a thorough
canvass of the taxi drivers and old hack-
men, showing each a photograph of Schar-
ferlein and the unfortunate Anna Luther.

Toward the late afternoon of the second
day—ten days after the discovery of the
skeleton—I was just about to return to New
York when a dilapidated closed cab rattled
over the cobblestones and stopped in front
of a beer garden on the water front.

Two men got out, paid the fare, and en-
tered the place. In hunting criminals you
never know in what guise luck may come
along, so before the cabby had a chance to
whip up his horses and depart I stopped him.

“Do you remember picking up this man
and this woman about a year ago?” I asked
him.

He stared at me blankly. Then _ his
weather-beaten face wrinkled itself into a
mass of criss-cross furrows, his little bleary
eyes buried themselves in folds of flesh. He
guffawed loudly. “Say, what do you think
I am—a camera-eye? Get off there, young
fellow!”

I flashed my shield. He straightened up
in a second. “This couple I am looking for
had two German police dogs with them sd

“Now, you're sayin’ something!” he inter-
rupted, adding a few picturesque oaths.
“Let’s have another look. I remember the
brutes all right.” He squinted his eyes as he
looked at the two pictures. “I couldn't tell
for truth if that’s the couple. I didn’t pay
much attention to the lady. But as I remem-
ber, she was pretty and blonde. The man
looked older than that.”

“Where did you take them?” I asked
sharply, cutting into his garrulity.

“I was driving in Long Island City that
day—lI used to live there, in fact—and the
man and the woman came along. The man
and the dogs got into my hack, and the
woman took a street car. I was told to drive
to an address in Astoria. That was quite a
ways, and the man kicked about his bill.
That’s how I remember. This one looks like
the man, but I wouldn’t take my oath on it.”

“Do you remember the address in As-
toria?” I asked him.

No, he didn’t remember that, he said, but
he gave me some general directions that
would lead me toward the poorer section.

Taking down his name and address, and
handing him a tip, I left and got back to
headquarters as speedily as possible. There

[ laid the information before the Chief, and
he directed me to visit Astoria the next day
and make a personal hunt for the dogs.

“At the same time you might look up this
man Paul Gebhardt, who lives in Astoria,”
he said, selecting one of the detectives’ re-
ports which were lying on the desk in front
of him. “He works in the Smith piano fac-
tory, and went to Europe about a year and
a half ago, according to gossip,”

Next morning I called at the address on
the Gebhardt report. A small workingman’s
cottage it was, with a handkerchief-sized
plot of ground in front and a small back
yard behind. A little boy in blue rompers
was sitting on the stoop playing with a
hungry-looking kitten.

“Mother home?” I asked him. He looked
at me solemnly without answering. I started
to go up the steps. With a bound he sprang
to his feet and darted toward the rear of the
place. I followed.

“Ma! Ma!” he screamed. “There's a man
here.”

A neatly dressed woman about twenty-
five years of age opened the back door and
looked at me with hostile eves as I asked if
her husband was home.

“Naw, he’s at his work, she answered
sullenly. Then she quickly corrected her-
self. “I mean he’s gone away.”

“Where?” I asked. “I want to see him
about his police dogs. I heard he had two
fine specimens, and I'm looking to buy one
of them.” This was a long chance, but I
wanted to see what the woman would do.

She shrank back. “He ain't got no police
dogs, and I don’t know where he has gone,
He’s left me,” she mumbled. “’T'aint the
first time, but it's the last.”

In the small yard I saw two large kennels.
“What are these for, then?” I asked, but
“Dunno,” was the only answer I got.

I wanted to see the inside of that cottage.
Thad a feeling that Gebhardt was there. So
I used the old dodge and asked for a drink
of water,

Reluctantly the woman entered the house.
As she was about to close the door. I put my
foot in the opening and followed her,

Glancing swiftly about the spotlessly
clean kitchen, my eve lighted on a dish
towel. Momentarily I lost my breath, for on
the corner were embroidered the initials
“A.L.!"

There was now no longer any doubt that
Gebhardt and Mueller were one and the

same man. I accepted the glass

tories in Long Island and New
Jersey. Have the photographer
run off severai copies of Schar-
ferlein’s picture.”

The next few days developed
nothing of importance. They
were filled with ordinary
routine work. Men, provided
with a complete description of
Mueller as furnished by the
Werhuffs, scrutinized the em-
ployees of every piano factory
on Long Island and New Jer-
sey: others visited the immi-
gration officials and_ inter-
viewed the hack drivers of
Hoboken where the jiner on
which the honeymooners were
supposed to have returned had
docked. There were, naturally,
scores of men who resembled
the general description of
Mueller, and each of these was
thoroughly investigated. Tedi-
ously, tirelessly, the manhunt
proceeded.

German police dogs were not
so common in those days as
they are now, and I had an
idea that we might be able to
trace Mueller through the two
which he had brought over.
The Chief gave me permission

Al caveman,

* “Will somebody tell these dogs I've been pardoned!"

and returned it to her empty.

However, I put no more in-
quiries to the woman, I left
her standing with the tumbler
in her hands.

From some children who
were playing on a vacant lot
I learned that Gebhardt had
taken his two dogs away a few
days before and spent the rest
of the day locating them in a
private kennel some miles dis-
tant. They were ferocious-
looking beasts, but they had be-
come somewhat tamed during
their sojourn in Ameriea, and
when I explained my mission
to the keeper of these kennels,
and my intention to hunt their
owner by means of his dogs, he
was obliged to give them into
my custody,

The newspapers had heard of
the missing dogs and they also
had been Searching the Long
Island kennels for them, When
we arrived in Astoria, a pho-
tographer caught sight of us
and stopped the cab.

“Hi there, Roddy, are those
the missing dogs?” he shouted.

“Yes,” I admitted. “You can
snap them if you want to.”

“IT would rather snap them

Snere you are
and accepted m:
into the taxi.

“By George, th
he exclaimed.
there.”

We posed the
Just before the fi
the gloom. It see
thing lurking in?

Then. there in
which followed,
Mueller, alias G
chance to move !

We had a pret:
yard, for he put
tarily I expected °
me to pieces, but '
a hefty chap, got
aged to get my
safely. Within an
Suffolk County je

For two days
talk. The Werhuft
who had marric
could. of course
charge. When x
second offender.
would be dealt «
weren't at all kee:
der charge with

That man was
met. Night after:
took turns in qui

Around midnig
I was questioning
oner Savage. Th
mediately.

“Say,” Gebhar«
doctor appeared. °
for manslaughter
I make a stateme

Not the slightes
in his voice; he m:
as if he were dis
his dogs.

“Well, you stan
the coroner repilie
tion of astonishm
anything definite.
gate the sentence
your wife and ch:
every opportuni:
than the chair.”

“All right.”
lessly. “I'm gett:
through.”

The coroner cai
arrived with T™
couple of hours.

And around 3
Gebhardt madc

The Line-Up Dep
We want to helr
Enemies—send i:
tions of badly w
we publish a

DETECTIVE, 50¢
ately become yo
than 325 fugitive
by MASTER DE"

ciate magazine, 7


62

“Where was Alfred on March 15th last?”

“He went on a hunting trip upstate
with—”

“Tony Nadile?” interrupted Piano,

“That’s right, how did you know?”

“Oh,” replied Piano, laughing, “I’m be-
ginning to discover a lot of things.”

Giallarenzo’s alibis had been completely
destroyed.

Events moved with rapidity after that.
Back at Syracuse, District Attorney Mar-
tin weighed the evidence that had been
gathered, and realized that he needed

.more than circumstantial evidence to trap
the wily Giallarenzo. Accordingly, An-
gela was promised immunity if she would
tell the truth about the killing.

SENSING herself caught in the web of
circumstance, the young widow’s dark
eyes were brimming with tears. She
pleaded with Martin, but the latter was
adamant. Finally she signified her will-
ingness to talk, and a stenographer was
called in to take her statement.

She told how she had first met Giallar-
enzo at the National Guard Camp in 1931.
How he had flirted with her and how
their romance was thwarted when Joseph

Carlucci took her back home to Syra-

cuse,

“The next year he returned to the camp,
and I managed to get up there at the
time, by visiting some friends. Alfred
told me how he loved me, and talked
about getting rid of my husband.

“At first I said no, but he insisted that
it could be done’ without any trouble.
So I told him that it would be all right
with me. Alfred said he would bring a
friend of his to Syracuse to do the job.”

“When did he come?” asked Martin.

“On December 9th. He brought Tony
Nadile and tipped me off to say that I
only had $3,000, as otherwise Tony would

6 ec a RR a yc a a a tant ta tt ome ne ee 8 Sha ARLE 8 te ew

Master Detective

State Trooper Howard H. Picard, who
played an outstanding part in the in-
vestigation of the baffling case

chisel,” the young woman. replied.

“How much did he want for the job?”

“One thousand dollars.”

“And you agreed?”

Angela shrugged her slender shoulders.
“We spent all day trying to figure out a
way to do it, but couldn’t. So we decided
to wait a while.”

“And you continued. to live with your
husband, knowing that he was going to
be killed?”

“Yes,” said Angela, somewhat ‘taken
aback,

“Go on,” urged Martin, “what else?”

“On the next morning Tony Nadile
walked into the house. I was so sur-
prised, that I thought I would faint. He
handed my husband a note, and Joseph
laughed and slapped him on the back. I
hurried out to go to school, thinking that

ea BR ess ae:

when I got home my husband would be
killed, But there was a slip-up, his nephew
walked in and Tony got cold feet,

“The whole business blew over for a
while, but Alfred kept on writing that he
couldn’t go on without me, and finally
in March he came back with Tony. We
fixed him up with a bandage and put the
gun inside. He asked my husband to take
him to the hospital. Meanwhile Alfred
was waiting in the car by the cemetery,
ready to pick up Tony and take him out
of town,

“Everything went all right until Tony
pulled the trigger. Then he saw the lights
of another car through the storm, and
he was frightened. He ran through the
cemetery and finally came back to my
house where Alfred picked him up. They
drove to Oswego and hid the car, and
then they hitch-hiked back to New York
City.”

“A pack of lies,” said Giallarenzo when
confronted with thé woman’s confession.

But the Grand Jury thought otherwise,
and the next morning indictments were re-
turned against Angela Carlucci and Alfred
Giallarenzo.

On February 18th, 1934, Giallarenzo’s
trial began before Judge William F.
Dowling, and after three weeks of hearing
the evidence on both sides, Angela's lover
was found guilty of first. degree murder.

The mandatory death sentence was read
to a man whose burning eyes reflected the
bitterness that was gnawing within.

On the night of February 7th, 1935.
Alfred Giallarenzo was executed. He had
found the reward for taking the road that
leads to disaster,

As for Angela, she has been released
from custody, but the murder indictment
against her still stands, in order to insure
her testimony in the event of the capture
of Anthony Nadile. :

The Beautiful Wife and the Sinister Doctor

go away with the man she loved, came
increasingly often as the day wore on and
night settled over the house like a black
cloud, making everything seem unreal.
When everyone had gone to bed, she’ put
on her nightgown and slipped a yellow
chiffon negligee over it. A strange look
had come into her eyes. She had made
the decision. Going to the bathroom,
she opened ‘the. ‘small cupboard. :

Her hands shook so that she. could |

hardly measure out the dose. Her usually
graceful movements became jerky as she
walked, with eyes straight ahead, down
the dim hall and opened the sick man’s

door. ‘ The light fell on her as.she stood

there holding the glass of liquid. She was
a lovely apparition with her long hair

flowing about her shoulders, the pale yel- | .

‘low negligee clinging :to her. Georgescu’s
weak voice came through the dimness. :.’

“Darling, come sit beside me for a bit.
I couldn’t sleep. I’m worried about you.
Tomorrow we must get a nurse. You
are very tired.”

Without answering she walked over to
him, and attempted to smile reassuringly
as she extended the glass,-saying: 7.

“I’m not at all tired; dear.” :

He pulled himself up on the pillows;
reached out to take the glass. With a
sudden look of fear she drew -it back,
exclaiming: Mee.

“Anna’s calling me. I’ll be right: back,”

She ran from the room, his remonstrance
trailing after her. “What's the matter,
Antoinette?” he called weakly.

In her own room ‘she poured the liquid
down the washbasin, quickly rinsed out

(Continued from page 11)

the glass, refilled it with medicine she
had: been giving him right along, and
hurried back with it. When he had swal-

‘lowed it and she had quieted him she

sank into a chair beside him and closed
her eyes, - = eo

When the Doctor called next morning
she’ avoided his gaze; he knew she hadn’t
administered the poison. He’ sent her
from the room on an errand and, while
‘she was gone, quickly mixed something
he took from his satchel and gave it to
the * patient;. When she _ reentered.
Georgescu‘ was just swallowing the last
drop.. She halted abruptly on: the thres-
hold, staring from her husband to the
physician, her face like chalk. Georgescu
began to talk’ excitedly.

“That stuff makes me feel fine,” he
observed. ae

But presently he became drowsy, lay

-back and dozed, a oa
! Outside in ‘the hallway she asked: in ‘a -

frightened tone: “Was: it—?”

Tanescu took her in his arms. “Don’t:

lose: your nerve. Give him another dose
tonight. It will be over soon.”
During the day several close ‘relatives
and friends called. She tried to keep her
head as she: visited with them, but her
words came incoherently; she kept seeing
the toothpowder can before her eyes.
“Poor Antoinette!” they said. “Her de-
votion to Victor is amazing, She is kill-
ajy Monee! worrying over him.” .
_ Her mother suggested: “You must call
in a trained nurse. ‘Youre getting much

too worn ‘out. .And I ‘think you should
' consult another doctor.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting any one
else nurse Victor!” she exclaimed fiercely.
“And we have every confidence in Dr.
Tanescu.”

Panic took possession of her. What if
his family insisted on calling in another
physician? She and Aristide were in it
too deeply now; there was no turning

_back. The sooner it was over the better.

She wondered if she imagined that the
servants cast suspicious looks at her, and
resolved that no one would be allowed
to see Victor but herself and the Doctor.

Georgescu had lapsed into a coma from
which he emerged only occasionally, at.
which times they gave him more of the
medicine. Antoinette spent long hours
alone with him, but she placed the large
chair so that she didn’t have to look at

his labored breathing. She felt like a

caged wild thing; longed for the moment
she could get out of this room and this

‘house—leave Bucharest forever.

Tt was on the night of the tenth day

* that the Doctor hastened to the house
in answer to a frightened summons by
Anna, the housekeeper. She had the door
open before he rang.

“The master’s been taken worse,” she
informed him.

He ran up the steps two at a time.
From beside the bed Antoinette looked

‘up, her face contorted with fear.

“Leave. the ‘room, Antoinette,” he
ordered. ; ;

She paid no heed, but clung to the limp
hands of her unconscious husband, With
a final gasp the sick man lay still, staring

San ee

December

glassily a
lovers me
Quickly
reached |}
from the
housemai:
“Your
nounced.
turbed.”
“Steel
when he
softly cl.
Stay here
I’ve got
quietly o
over. D
No one \
to every!
He lea
hers, the

HRE)
lescu,
his officc
opened
Spreadin
the pictu
which st
page. B
promine!
caused a
officer sk
funeral.
paper, hi
Pickin
at the e
tently.
printed
guise th:
set, inte
slit the «
the lett«
The ¢
then rer
short pa
the pol
death oi
minutes
the mis:
mark op
in Buch
was no
the pap:
pushed
When a
he pass
“Wha


nearly
. good
oline.”
is and
crime,

a.

seven

. table
ypenly
ce and
effect
throt-

ore he
ng his
time,
' plead
iry of

I was
even
lid. I
0 the
threw
hore I
at, but.
e way.
Is was
ypened

t been
) Ken-
lained

Gene
louble-

Caulk
r, and
ach of
Madi-

as he
picked

» slips,

were
etween
d dis-
Alfred

‘2nd,
le, 900
The

sent by
. dated
le and
1 com-
z0’s li-
3 desk,

dollars
e mur-.

the an-~

rid of
‘Tony
‘adile.”

idquar-

juested:
ck on
‘arlucei
ick to
it kind
Martin
1 them

December, 1938

of the charges that were going to be
lodged against them. i His
Giallarenzo’s heavy jaw snapped. shut
with an audible click. His high forehead
looked oily and the sharp. line of ‘his

. mouth was twisted into the suspicion of

a sneer,

“You have nothing to warrant. such a
charge,” he said in a cold voice that grated
like a file.

Angela darted apprehensive glances
from Martin to her lover. She toyed with

‘Yer pocketbook and said nothing.

Later, when they were taken away,
Martin sent for Deputy Piano.

“Mike,” he said, “our hardest job is
yet to come. We've got to prove the
case. I want you to go down to New
York and find out what you can about
Giallarenzo, and this man Nadile.”

HAT night, Piano left for New York
City, and the next day was talking to
Joseph Gartland; building foreman of the
New York Telephone Company, under
whom Giallarenzo had worked. The officer

acquainted Gartland with what had oc-

curred.

“Why, he told me when he left here
on September 23rd, that his little girl was
sick and that he wanted to take her to
Oswego,” said the foreman in response to
Piano’s question as to why Giallarenzo
had left his job. :

“How about your
March?” asked Piano.
working then?”

Gartland reached for his time book. He
thumbed the pages, and his finger pointed
to an entry under the date of March 12th.

“He was home, sick, according to the

records for last
“Was Giallarenzo

“book.”

“Did you verify that?” ‘
“Yes, There’s an entry showing that a

doctor in the Bronx sent a letter in, say-

ing that he was treating him.”

Piano wrote the physician’s name and
address in his notebook. So far the case
against Giallarenzo was slim indeed.

“J}] open his locker for you,” volun-
teered Gartland, “Maybe you can find
something.”

Piano was hardly prepared for what
they uncovered. Thrown carelessly on a
top shelf of the locker were two unfinished
letters, in Giallarenzo’s handwriting.

. fruitless, }
to learn about Giallarenzo, Piano ‘took a.

Master,‘Detective

“My boss will not.Jet, me off, but; An-
thony, and. I were coming*.up,” ran the
first. “Maybe it is just as well that I
cannot get uP because, if Anthony is
caught he’ will squeal.-and Icaniprove
that I was in the city at the time,”

Why had not Giallarenzo sent the :let-
ter? Had something caused. him to change
his mind about going to Syracuse?, Piano
went on with letter number two...

“T am depressed,” wrote Giallarenzo to
Angela. “Sometimes I feel like taking a
gun and shooting myself, I cannot. live
without you.” : J A ia ae aS fg

Piano turned to Gartland , take
these along with me if you don’t mind,”
he said. “I cannot tell you how helpful
you have been.”: : rae

The officer’s next stop was at New York
Police Headquarters, where he learned that
detectives had not been. able .to. find a
trace of Anthony Nadile. He had left
the Bronx house where he, was boarding
without telling any one, and all. efforts
to pick up his trail- had thus far been
Realizing that he still had much

taxi to the doctor’s office in the Bronx.

“Why, yes, I remember the’ man you
speak of,” said the physician, a» stout,
bluff-spoken man.’ “I wrote the note for
him. because he told’ me he wanted: to
take a week off, for a rest.: He was run-
down and very nervous, and I thought,
the rest would do him good.” |

“Then he wasn’t in bed?” °

“DON’T know where he was, young
man,” replied the doctor. “I only

know that I gave him the note as a per-
sonal favor.” Gabi gtd j ;

Piano heaved a sigh of relief. Things
were beginning to break a little better
now, he thought. Leaving the doctor’s
office; he went to Giallarenzo’s home,
where a careworn woman admitted that
she was his wife. ee

On guard and suspicious, she refused to
talk about her husband, :

Then Piano told her what he had seen
and heard on the night of December Ist.

Mrs, Giallarenzo’s eyes blazed. Her thin
body was trembling.

“That’s the last straw!”.she cried. “I’ve
stood him long enough. What is it that
you want to*know?”

State of New York

County of New -York a

to wit:

Publisher, Macfadden Publications, Inc,, 122
worth, 122
New York City; Business Managers, None.

owners must be given. If owned
Inc., 122 East 42nd

Macfadden Foundation, Inc., 122 East 42n
Street, New York City.

holders, if any, contain not only the list

security holders who
in a capacity other than that of a

other securities than as so stated by him.

STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCULATION. ETC., REQUIRED BY THE
ACTS OF CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24, 1912, and MARCH 3, 1933, of MASTER DETECTIVE, published
Monthly at Dunellen, New Jersey, for October 1, 1938, 4

Before me, a Notary Public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared John
Shuttleworth, who having been duly sworn according to, law, deposes and says that he i

MASTER DETECTIVE and that the following is, to the’best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement
of the ownership, management (and if a daily paper, the circulation), etc., of the aforesaid publication for
the date shown in the above caption. required by the .
March 3, 1933, embodied in section 537, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, -

1. That the names and addresses of the papiisher,. sdiice, managing editor, and business managers are:
ast 42n
East 42nd Street, New York City; Managing Editor, Tullio Mucel

2. That the owner is: (If owned by a corporation, its name and address must be stated and also
immediately thereunder the names and addresses of stockholders owning or holding one per cent or
more of total amount of stock. If not owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of the individual ©
by.a firm, company, or other, unincorporated concern, its name and
address, as well as those of each individual member, must be given.) Owner: Macfadden Publications,
Street, New_York ctr Stockholders in Macfadden Publications, Inc.:

d Street, New York City; Bernarr Macfadden, 122 East 42nd

3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent.
or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If there are none, so state.) None.

4. That the two paragraphs next above, piving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security

of stockholders and security holders as they appear upon the
books of the company but also, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books
of the company as trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for
whom such trustee is acting, is given; also that the said two para raphs contain statements embracin
affiant’s full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders aa
© not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities
_th bona fide owner; and this affiant has no reason to believe that any
other person, association, or corporation has any interest direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or

5, That the average number, of copies of each issue of this ublication sold or distributed, through the
ma is (ft otherwise, to paid subscribers during the twelve months preceding the date shown above is (This
information is required from daily publications only.)

Sworn to Pa before me this 7th day of September 1938.

s the Editor of

Act of August 24, 1912, as amended by the Act of

Street, New. York Cis Editor, John. Shuttle-
i, 122-East 42nd Street, |

Bernarr

(Signed) JOHN SHUTTLEWORTH,

JOSEPH M. ROTH,
Notary Public Westchester County.
Certificate Filed in N. Y. Co. No, 411
N. Y. Co. Register’s No. 9 R 284
Commission expires March 30, 1939

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28 FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

CRIME SCENE
The body of, Joseph Car-
jucci was found in the
automobiie at spot
marked “A,” Three bul-
lets had spelled sudden
death. When officers
learned that the killer
had fled into the’ ceme-
tery they found. mur-
der weapons at spot

marked “B.”

flashlight around on the ground in a search for the murder
weapon, called Morrisey. .

“Look here, Lieutenant,” he said. “Footprints. And the
way they’re spaced it looks as if they belong to somebody
who ran away from this spot.” :

Slowly and carefully the troopers followed the tracks.
Across the road they lead, into the deeper snow, up along
the side of the cemetery wall for about sixty feet, and then
back to the main highway. Back at the road the troopers
lost them.

’ “That gun,” Morrisey reasoned, “is somewhere back there
and chances are the killer tossed it over the wall into the

. cemetery and then came back on the road. There must

have been another car behind to pick him up.”

That night the troopers searched the cemetery for hours,
but no sign of the gun did they find.

Meanwhile, troopers, fearing to spoil any possible clues

. by examining the death car on the highway, ordered it ©

towed back to a Syracuse garage, with the body still
slumped behind the wheel.

The caravan provided a gruesome spectacle on the trip
back to town. A murdered man sat at the wheel of his car,

. blood dripping from his temple, down the seat and onto the
snow.

All the way back to Syracuse—for eight miles—blood
dripped, leaving a crimson trail of tiny dots.

Meanwhile, other troopers and deputies began a canvass
of the neighborhood in an effort to find some witnesses—if
any—to the crime.

Brown repeated his story at the gasoline station, and the
troopers immediately located the man who had driven in
and reported the accident.

But Fred L. Brown, whose auto had been wrecked by a
car driven by a dead man, knew nothing more than he al-
ready had told. 2 :

“This fellow you saw running away?” the trooper
pressed. “‘Can’t you give us a better description?”

“I’m sorry,” Brown said. “But I can’t. All I can tell you
is that the man was about my height, five feet eight, wore
a light soft hat and had on a dark overcoat. I wasn’t very
close to him, and chances are that I’d never recognize him
again if I were to meet him face to face.”

But vague as this clue was, Trooper Picard, who was de-
tailed to that end of the investigation, was ordered to pur-
sue it.

He questioned others in the neighborhood, including at-
tendants at a gasoline station across the street, and learhed
that a man generally answering that description had
waited for a bus nearby at about the time of the killing.

“He stood out there about fifteen minutes,” the trooper
was told, “and then I saw him start walking back toward
Syracuse.”

“Are there any buses due here about now?” Picard
asked.

“No,” the attendant replied.

Quickly Picard reasoned the possibilities. If the killer
was afoot, he probably would stop at the first place he
came to, to warm up. Chances of getting a lift from a mo-
torist in that deserted neighborhood were slim.

“What’s the next place down the road toward Syracuse?”

4

he asked, renewed interest plainly outlined on his face.
“Why, a restaurant,” the attendant replied.

ICARD jumped into his car, started the motor, and
roared down the highway.
Several miles down the highway he pulled up at Elm

“ Lodge. During the entire trip his sharp eyes had kept a

vigilant watch along the highway. Several times he stopped
and examined what looked like footprints in the fresh
snow.
. He was sure now, that he was on the right trail.

With the exception of several couples, Elm Lodge was
deserted when the trooper came in.

Arthur Sherwin, operator of the lodge, walked up to
serve the trooper.

Quickly Picard outlined his story, and then asked the -

question that was uppermost in his mind:

Had a strange man, about five feet, eight inches tall,
wearing a light hat and a dark overcoat come into the
lodge in the last three quarters of an hour?

“Yes,” Sherwin replied. “In fact that’s the only new cus-
tomer who’s been in here within the hour. The rest of these
folks,” indicating several others dining at nearby tables,
“have been here for several hours.”

Picard pressed his questions.

What did the man look like? What did he do? Did he say
where he was going?

Sherwin smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t answer all those

questions,” he said. “That fellow just came in here, drank
a cup of coffee, and then went out.”

Mrs. Sherwin interrupted.

“He didn’t go right out,” she said. “He went into the
washroom for a minute. There was something funny about
him. When he took off his coat I saw that his right arm was
all bandaged up, like it was in splints. I though it was bro-
ken. Then, after he came out of the washroom—although I
didn’t look at him very closely—I got the impression that
his hand wasn’t bandaged up any more.”

Picard hurried into the washroom, searching it carefully.

Was it possible that this man actually was the slayer,
and that he had hidden his gun there?

For fifteen minutes the trooper searched every corner of
the small room, emptying two waste baskets, peering into
the paper towel rack. He even tried the window to see if it
was locked.

Finally, as he was about to give up the hunt, he lifted
the porcelain lid to the toilet water tank.

Silently he dipped his hand and dangled a long piece of
soaking gauze and cotton.

“This must be the bandage,” he said.

Then, in the presence of.the Sherwins, he unrolled the
bandage on the floor. If he had hoped. to find the gun in the
roll of bandage, he was disappointed.

“Hell, a false alarm,” he grunted.

As the trooper left the lodge, he dropped the gauze dis-
gustedly at the back door, and got into his car.

Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind, and returning,
he picked up the bandage, placed it in the back seat of his
car, and drove out to the Syracuse highway.

After notifying headquarters to send out a teletype

ag ey

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

This is the Carlucci home where
detectives saw strange happen-
ings after the murder had taken

23

Street address to break the
news to Mrs. Carlucci and
get further information.

alarm for the man whose description he had, the trooper
patrolled the road in a last effort to catch up with his elu-
sive quarry.

Several hours later, after a fruitless quest, he gave up
the hunt and returned to his barracks, and laid the wet
bandage on a table to dry.

Meanwhile, back at the morgue, the body had been iden-
tified as that of Joseph Carlucci, 641 Catherine Street,
Syracuse.

In the pocket of Carlucci’s coat, Coroner William R.
Winne, who had made an examination of the body, found
the address of Carlo Carlucci, of 134 Gertrude Street, Syra-
cuse, and a policeman was sent to bring him to the morgue
to identify the body.

At 2 a.m. a quiet little man walked into the autopsy
room, stalked straight up to the table, and peered closely at
the waxen features of the man who lay there.

“Yes, it’s him,” he said sadly, “they finally got him.”

“Who got him?” a deputy sheriff asked.

“The gangsters,” Carlucci said.

“He had a little wine around the house—only gave it to
his friends, but they told him they'd kill him if he didn’t
give it up.” :

“What are these people?” the deputy pressed.

“I don’t know,” the brother replied. “Joe never told me
any names. Just said they were making life miserable for
him.”

Carlucci gave the authorities some of the facts about his
brother.

HE VICTIM was forty-nine years old, was fairly well
to do with several thousand dollars in the bank, had
been married a little more than six years, and owned his
own home. He worked regularly and had never been _ar-
rested or in trouble. 3
A check of police records confirmed those facts.
A short time later, District Attorney William Martin,
Deputy Sheriff Michael Piano, Deputy Raymond Guilfoyle
and Coroner William R. Winne drove to the Catherine

place. A sleepy-eyed young wo-
man answered the door,
blinking in surprise at the

District At- group of men.
torney Wil- “We're officers, young

liam C. Martin lady,” Piano said. “Call your
prosecuted the mother.”
killer and asked “My mother?” the young
the jury to send him = yoman echoed.

to the electric chair. “Well, we want to see Mrs.
This picture was taken Carlucci,” the district attor-

_/ as he made his last argu- ney asked.
mane: “That’s me,” the girl re-
plied. “I’m Mrs. Carlucci.

Mrs. Joseph Carlucci.”

_ Martin looked significantly
at the coroner. Then the dep-
uty spoke up. “Can we come
in a minute, Mrs. Carlucci?”

Piano said.

He looked questioningly at
the girl as they walked into
the house. “She’s only a kid,”
he whispered to the coroner.
“Can't be more than twenty-
two or twenty-three. Imagine
a pretty little thing like that
being married to a man as
old as Carlucci?”

Once inside the house the
group of officials broke the

news gently to the young wo-
man.

For long minutes she sat
on her davenport and just
stared at the group, blankly,
as if unable to comprehend
what had happened.

Then, with a suddenness ‘that took the officers unaware,
she burst into tears.

Until dawn the group talked to her, but learned little

outside of what they already knew.

“He went out about 8 o’elock for a ride,” she said. “Some

>

_ friend came here and called for him. They sat around the

house for a while drinking wine and talking. I was in the
other room and I didn’t join them at all.”

“What did this visitor look like?” Piano asked.

Mrs. Carlucci hesitated. “I don’t know, exactly,” she said.
“But he was tall—very tall—more than six feet. He was
dark, and had a sharp nose, and he looked like an Italian
fellow. He had his right arm in a sling with a big bandage
on it, and I heard him tell my husband that it was broken.

“They sat around for a while, and then my husband got
on his hat and coat and they went out.”

“Where did they say they were going?” Martin asked.

“Joe wouldn’t tell me,” Mrs. Carlucci said. “I asked him
and he just said he was going for a ride, and that I should
go to bed.”

She knew nothing of the threats that her brother-in-law
had confided at the morgue.

Carlo Carlucci and his wife, she said, had reared her
from babyhood, and when she was sixteen, she married
Joseph Carlucci. They had been happy and lived com-
fortably. ~

But there the trail stopped.

The law had run up against a blank wall.

Several days later, Piano discussed the case with the
troopers and learned how close Trooper Picard had come
to capturing the mysterious man who had been seen near
the Brown gasoline station.

They compared notes, and Piano told about the visitor ~

who had gone out with Carlucci the night he was slain.

“It was some fellow with a broken arm,” he said. “He
came to the house with it all wrapped up.”

Picard’s eyes sparkled.

“That’s the guy,” he almost shouted. “We’ve got the
bandage at barracks. I found it hidden in the washroom


‘A FRONT PAGE STORY |

FE) INT KEW YORK

the stygian darkness of a highway just outside Syra-

cuse, N. Y. A stiff, cold wind spit snow furiously at’
the windshield and churned big white clouds ghoulishly
over the road.

Brown shivered.

“That’s DeWitt cemetery over there, isn’t it?” his wife
asked, pointing toward a long, sombre array of headstones
partially hidden in the haze of white.

“Yeh,” Brown muttered, “but don’t mention it. This here
Thompson Road is spooky enough at this time of the year.”

It was 8 Pp. M. on March 15, 1933, and Brown was in a
hurry to get home. Ahead of him rose a steep hill. The road
was slippery, vision was poor, and the driver wondered
whether he could get to the top safely.

Suddenly ahead of them the ruby gleam of a tail light
loomed. It seemed to get larger and larger.

Mrs. Brown screamed. “Fred,” she shouted, “look out,
that car’s sliding back toward us!”

Brown hurled his wheel hard to the right, jammed on his
brakes, and skidded sideways.

The lumbering auto, hurtling backward with a speed that

Tite HEADLIGHTS of Fred L. Brown’s car stabbed

increased by the second, roared toward the Brown car.

“Oh, he’s going to hit us!” Mrs. Brown cried.

Her husband shoved the accelerator down to the floor,
and with a burst of speed, the Brown car displayed an
agility that surprised its owner. But it was too late. With a
sickening crunch, the sliding car hurled itself against
Brown’s rear left fender and then slithered ominously off
the road, coming to rest on its side in the ditch.

Brown threw his car into low, and slowly wormed his
way to the top of the hill.

Mrs. Brown looked back and excitedly nudged her hus-
band.

“Fred, look,” she cried. “There’s somebody running.”

Brown turned around, and his eyes took in the figure of a
tall man scurrying frantically across the highway. As they
watched, the mysterious figure disappeared at the wall of
DeWitt cemetery.

“Stolen car, sure enough,” Brown replied. “Ill stop at
the next gasoline station and have somebody notify the
police. I wonder how badly I’m smashed?”

An examination of his car revealed no great amount of
damage, and Brown climbed back in.

the evening was over his life
had been snuffed out by a cool,
Calculating murdere:

“I’m not going back there,” he said. “Anybody who
would do a thing like that might have a gun.”

Several minutes later, Brown pulled into a gasoline sta-
tion operated by Donald E. Brown, no relation, at R.F.D. 2,
about a half mile east of Orville.

“Somebody just smashed into me back there on the hill,”
he said, ‘and I’d appreciate it if you’d call the troopers. I
think it must be a stolen car, or something.”

He drove off, and the gasoline station proprietor re-
turned to his station. As he was about to lift the receiver,
the thought struck him that there was something odd about
the story.

Why hadn’t the man stopped to investigate? Brown won-
dered, and then decided to investigate.

Turning to two friends, Claude L. Case and Robert Fla-
herty, who were visiting at the station, he asked:

“Do you want to run down there and see what’s hap-
pened? I don’t want to get the troopers out just for an auto
accident, and I can’t leave the station.”

Buttoning up their coats against the piercing March
wind, Case and Flaherty hurried down the hill. ;

Fifteen or twenty minutes later they returned, breathless.

“It’s a murder,” they shouted, as they burst into the sta-
tion. ‘“‘There’s blood all over the car, and there’s a man in-
side sitting behind the wheel all slumped over.”

Quickly Brown notified the state police.

ROOPERS Howard J. Picard, Richard E. Voight and
Lieut. John J. Morrisey were first on the scene. Several
minutes later deputies arrived from the sheriff's office at
Syracuse.
A quick examination confirmed the fact that the driver
was dead.
Three gaping holes in the side of the man’s head testified
mutely that death had been instantaneous, and the calm
expression on the victim’s face belied any theory that there
had been a warning of impending doom.
“One—two—three—just like that,” Morrisey remarked
as his eyes took in the frightful destruction that the bullets
had wrought.
Carefully the troopers examined the car, picked up three
empty shell casings, but were unable to find any trace of
the gun.
Finally one of the officers, throwing the beam of his

C
)

% *o°eT9e foqgTtum ®ped

GE DETECTIVE MAGAZINE, JANUARY, 190

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she said irritably. “But I can give
you the names of some of his rela-
tives ... they may be able to help

She was wrong. For several days,

_the two sleuths interviewed mem-

bers of the fugitive’s family. Either
they had not seen the wanted man
or they did not wish to mention his
name. They greeted their question-
ers with closed lips and distrustful
eyes.

Finally, however, a former friend
of Nadile’s suggested that Piano and
Mosher go to see Attilio Leono, a
cousin of the murderer. He lived on
East Tremont Avenue in the Bronx.

The next day, Mosher went alone
to call at Leono-: .

“No, I don’t know nothin’ about
Tony,” Leono answered. But the lad
-was shifty-eyed and nervous, and
the investigator suspected that he
knew more than he admitted.

“Mosher told his fellow officer of.
his suspicions, and that same week
Piano secured a job in Leono’s

building as a window-washer. In >

this way Piano could keep close
watch on Leono and gain admission
to his apartment without difficulty.

One afternoon, however, Leono
returned home early and caught
Piano searching through a desk.
Next morning, Nadile’s cousin be-
came almost as elusive as the want-
ed man. He packed his belongings in

a suitcase and left the building in’

a taxi.

Piano saw Attilio Leono as he
was leaving and tried to persue
him. But the fleeing man’s cab was
lost in a maze of traffic before the
deputy sheriff could even record its
license number. ‘

Still undaunted, the tenacious Pi-

ano retraced his steps to Leono’s
apartment. He searched the two tiny.

‘rooms for three days before he came
across a tangible clue.

In a dark corner of the man’s
closet, Piano found some torn bits

of paper. Painstakingly he and Mo- -
sher fitted the scraps together. The:

pieces: formed a letter that began
with the salutation “Dear Cousin”
and ended -with the signature, ‘“Sal-
vatore Siciliano.”

Now began the search for the ac- ;
companying postmark. The two in-

vestigators combed every nook and
corner of Leono’s basement. After
emptying barrels, sifting ashes and
raking furnaces, they found the en-
velope. Its barely legible postmark
read—‘Van Dyke, Mich.”

Relentless now, Piano telephoned
the state police in Van Dyke. De-
tective Lieut. Philip L. Hutson took
‘down the description of the long-
sought fugitive.

“We'll get your man if he’s here,”
he said.

Mosher put through a call to the
office of District Attorney Donald
M: Mawhinney in Syracuse. Maw-
hinney promptly dispatched his as-
sistant, William H. Bowers, and a
7 who. could identify Nadile to

“you were at Teminello’s ...’

Michigan. They arrived the next
day and, with Hutson and several

-other sleuths, set out to capture

Nadile.

The morning was cold and raw,
with sleet falling. As the party
pulled up on Panama Avenue, near
the “Siciliano” residence, they
could see a man moving through
the house, dressing.

Presently he went to the garage,
backed out the truck he used in his
plastering business, and started
down the street. The police cars fol-

“Jowed. When the truck driver

stopped to wipe his windshield, the
officers leaped from their cars and
raced toward him with levelled
guns. The man surrendered without
resistance.

At headquarters, Bowers ques-
tioned the prisoner for many hours.

“But I’m not Nadile—my name is
Siciliano,” the arrested man main-
tained. “I never heard of Nadile.”

“If you’re not Nadile, show us
your naturalization papers,” Bowers
argued.

“J don’t need. naturalization pa-
pers—I am a native-born American.”

That night Mosher and Piano ar-
rived in Van Dyke. The. prisoner
was brought before them.

“All right, Nadile, Siciliano, Gal-
lo, or whatever. you call yourself,”
Mosher began. “Did you ever stay
with the Teminellos in Oswego?”

“Yes—I—hunted there, in Decem-
ber, about eight years ago.”

“And how about the following
March, a few days before you mur-
dered Carlucci?”

“No. I was not there then.”

“Terminellg will be in court say-
ing you were.”

“T wasn’t there,” the prisoner in-

sisted. He started to show the first ©

signs of being ruffled.
“Angelina Carlucci will testify
Rae
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t, I wasn’t!” the
man suddenly burst out.

“Look, Tony Gallo,” Piano taunt-
ed. “We know who you are... you
are...” He didn’t finish.

“It’s no use!” the prisoner sud-
denly burst out. “I am Anthony Na-
-dile. But I never killed a man. I
never killed a man!”

Ten hours later, Nadile was re-
turned to New York. He was the
second of Angelina’s admirers to
stand trial for the murder of Car-
lucci.

* * *
NWHILE, Angelina Carlucci,
who had married again, was
located: She had grown plumper
with the passing years, but she still
retained a good deal of her youthful
beauty.

Nadile’s trial began in the Su-
preme court of Justice Jesse E.
Kingsley. Angelina repeated the
story she had told when she testified
against Giallarenzi.

Traver, the highway superinten-
dent, and the customers at Elm
Lodge identified Nadile as the man
who had hurried from ‘the wash-
room. .

Nadile remained impassive. He sat
with folded hands and downcast
eyes. Repeatedly, under question-
ing, he maintained his innocence,

but the evidence was all against him.

After deliberating three hours
and twenty minutes, the jury re-
turned a verdict of first degree mur-
der. When he was sentenced to die,
Nadile’s cool nerve was finally
shaken by shock.

Having left both of her murder-
ous admirers to the mercy of the
state, Angelina Carlucci, last of the
three conspirators, returned to her
happy home the day the trial ended.

Nadile was less fortunate. His
road led to Sing Sing, and death
row.

\

* * *

The names Nicolo Pantelli, Luigi
Teminello, Alena Tosca and Attilio
Leono are fictitious.

HAVE YOU

A MISPLACED

PERSON IN
YOUR HOME?

(Continued from page 39)
fort to satisfy herself that she was
not being misled. .

“There’s nothing more I can do,”
she added with a shrug of her
shoulders. “One of my friends sug-
gested that I see you. Is it true that
you find missing persons?”

“Well, we’ve located a few. What’s
your name and your husband’s?”

In a few minutes, the man behind
the desk had extracted all pertinent
information concerning the missing
husband from his wife. He had
learned that the man was an ama-
teur horticulturist. .

Early the following morning,

Daniel Eisenberg was back ‘at his ©

desk. He started the ball rolling in
the search for the missing spouse
by preparing “fliers”. bearing his
description and circulating these
among the librarians throughout
lower New York State. Two days
later, the Skip Tracers located him
when he went to a public library
in Manhattan to look for books on
his pet subject. Eisenberg called the
distraught wife and told her where
she could find her missing husband.
* *

ANIEL Eisenberg. started in a

small way to track down com-

mercial “skips” for business firms
and became so successful that he
soon found himself handling all

types of “missing persons” assign-:

ments — amnesia victims, runaway
husbands and wives, lease-breakers,
missing witnesses, embezzlers, biga-
mists, long-lost heirs, swindlers of
gullible and love-sick women and a

‘host of others. As a favor for a
CRIME YEAR BOOK

friend, he even
dog. —

The disappea
most frequent}
majority of th:
ness is what !
Case of the Mis
ing the past
Tracers have
more than 10
have pulled th
ing stunt: And
seem, he had
only twelve w
fifteen years of
line. The expl:

‘tion is not a q
ture or the v:
explanation is
to do with the
home economi
past two deca:
gan to seek a
and independe
day the worl
kindly to the
career of thei
about seventy
ried women \
earn a living
to, the social
and family, a
the money wi
flight into the

Going back
husbands, it i
who run out
thousands of «
Eisenberg har
cent are men
And most of
the case of ru:
woman. Rath:
goes, he is pri
freedom and
“get away fr
too often this
of responsibi
with the fe
friend wife ar
tically destitr

Naturally, <
wife deserter,
the erring s
graces, too. C
tongue of his
the husband
constant nag
another evil
wrack, ruin 2
dom. There is
tion that spl
riage asunde1
take care of

The favor
with Eisenbe

of his arm-«
one of a husb
young wife.
aid, the wife
that her spo

his younges

knowledge, s

ents. Surely,
where he ha

While his
desk, the swi
up the recei\
band’s paren

CRIME YEAR BO:


This KILLER for IRE

three holes in the part that was ridged.

(continued ) : es, .

>

- notified Syracuse city police, and George

Morgan directed them to DeWitt Ceme-

_. tery. The wrecked car was piled against

a tree. 3
Powerful searchlights were focused on

the light gray sedan, and when Voight

opened the door next to the driver’s seat
a man’s body almost fell out.

There were three bullet holes in the right
temple. Cards found in a worn leather
wallet in the dead man’s pockets identified
him as Joseph Carlucci, 641 Catherine

' Street, Syracuse, New York.

- After a quick examination Trooper
Picard turned to Morgan and said: “You've

just witnessed a murder. I'll have to ask ~

you and your wife to go back to the bar-

-‘¥acks with Trooper Voight so Sergeant

Perry can write down all the details. ru
stay here at the scene and see .what evi-
dence I can find.”

YRACUSE city police arrived as Voight
got in the Morgan car. Picard told
these men what he knew. It took them

only a few minutes to pick up the trail of

the man who had bolted from the gray

#sedan and run into the cemetery directly
after the shots were heard. Footprints in

the fresh snow led right into the cemetery,

*"~ past the granite headstones and then circled

and came out on the road up ahead.
“We know there’s a filling station a short

~ way from_here,” the trooper told the city

men. “I'll run down there and question
the attendant. The fugitive’ll be moving
fast. We'll have to do the same thing if
we expect to nab him.”

The gas-station man had seen a stranger
less than twenty minutes before the arrival
of the officer.

’ “He was on foot,” the attendant stated,
“and he asked about a bus for New York
City. I told him he’d have a two-hour
wait. I think he went over to Elm Lodge.”

Trooper Picard hurried to the lunch-
room and questioned the owner, Mrs. Alice
Sherwin. “We’te looking for a man who's
supposed to have come in here about 20
minutes ago,” he told her.
inquire about a bus ot New York?”

Mrs. Sherwin said a man had asked such
a question. “He gulped a cup of coffee,”
she added. “I never saw him around here
before.” ; :

Picard asked her to describe the cus-
tomer.

“He was dark-complexioned,” the lunch-
room owner said. “Medium height and

build. I’d say he was very well dressed—. 2
dark overcoat, gray hat and red-and-gray _

scarf. He wasn’t wearing rubbers. I’d just
washed the floor and he messed it up some-
thing awful. Must have been walking
through a field to get his shoes as dirty
as they were.”

The trooper told Mrs. Sherwin -about
the murder on Thompson Road. “Try to
help us,” he urged. “Did you notice any-
thing unusual? Was he nervous?”

The woman said she felt sure the man
was. “I watched him gulp the coffee,” she

told Picard. “Then he went in the wash-

foom. He. wasn’t there long, and. left

'~-» important evidence in many criminal cases.

tight after that.”

. The trooper knew the murder gun hadn’t
been located in the dark. Experience had
also taught him that washrooms had turned

See peed age Sag iv at
“ ~ ~

uv

“Did anybody:

Seg ARON sink RENE Ai ei Re aN Gator de 2

Pie Supt akg HES Ee Ok CN RN 2 ie
biti Aas Seek” a Ae atl eon

™~

He searched the place at once,
he found was a wad of surgical bandage
in the toilet. It wasn’t bloodstained, and
it was almost perfectly clean—except for

Further questioning of the lunchroom

_ proprietor told Picard that the fugitive

had not been bandaged.
“Did he seem to limp?” the trooper
asked. °

“Not that I noticed,” Mrs. Sherwin’ an-

swered.

Picard thanked her and hurried over to.

get the gas-station attendant’s description.
This tallied with what Mrs. Sherwin had
said. He hadn’t seen any bandages or
noticed a limp.

to the scene of the crime, Sergeant

B* THE TIME Trooper Picard returned
Perry, District Attorney William Mar-

tin, Coroner William Winne and Deputy’
. Sheriff Michael Piano were there.

The first thing Picard did was give them
a description of the fugitive so that a sec-
ond police broadcast could be sent out.
All buses bound for New York City were
ordered to stop while their passengers were
checked. After that Picard took the piece

of bandage from his pocket and showed it

to the others.

“I found this in the toilet bowl in the
lunchroom,” he said. “The man who asked
about the New York bus wasn’t bandaged,
but I think he left this item behind.”

. District Attorney Martin examined the
cloth carefully. “Three holes in the dead
man’s head and three holes in this,” he
commented. “That .could be important.”
‘Coroner Winne heard those words and

- came over. “We found no powder burns

on the victim’s temple,” he said. “There
should have been if the, killer sat next
to him when the shots were fired.”

All the officers. caught the significance
of this. statement. Bullets fired through a
cloth bandage would not leave powder
marks on the dead man’s temple.

_ “That’s the kind of slick ruse a profes-
sional killer would employ,” Sergeant
Perry surmised. “Maybe we’ve got a New
York City gangster coming up here and
bumping Carlucci off.” s :

“Maybe so,” District Attorney Martin
conceded, “but I’ve'never heard of a paid
killer taking a victim for a ride and then
making his getaway on foot.” .

Deputy Sheriff Piano said: “Sometimes
those guy’s plans don’t work out too well.
My guess is that this gunman intended to
dump Carlucci’s body into the‘ cemetery
and steal his car. Then he found out there
was a Car right behind him. He knew the.
shots had been heard. Killers aren’t as
quick with the brain as they are with the
trigger. This one probably got rattled,
jumped out and ran into the cemetery.”

Sergeant Perry said speculation was all
right, but that the thing to do now was to
get the dead man’s body to the morgue,
tow the car into the barracks where it
could be gone over for clues, and question
anybody they could find at the Catherine
Street address.

was a light in the living room-of the
two-story frame house.

A pretty, dark-eyed girl in her early
twenties answered the doorbell. The sight
of police officers was frightening to her.

“Has something happened to Joseph?”
she exclaimed after ushering Picard and
Piano inside. oe

The deputy sheriff nodded. “There’s

af | be the lateness of the hour there

/ been a serious accident,” he told her as -

gently as possible.

“Could we speak with
Mrs. Carlucci?” or Biro ot ea

“My husband didn’t like

“but all :

aa
vies

JOSEPH CARLUCCI—

Shot dead with a gun that was thought

to be resting on the bottom of the sea.

The white-faced girl gasped. Then she
managed to say: “I’m Mrs. Carlucci.”

Both officers were surprised. They had
thought this girl was his daughter. Car-
lucci was close to fifty, and she was less
than half that age. nt

Picard and Piano had run into some-
thing they hadn’t expected. They described
Joseph Carlucci so there wouldn’t be any
mistake; and as the officers -spoke they
studied the young wife’s reactions. She
was extremely attractive, but both men
could tell she was as delicate as she was
pretty. Her dark eyes seemed suddenly
tired. She listened, and then assured the
investigators that the man they were de-
scribing was her husband.’

“He was shot tonight,” Picard told her
at last.

The pretty brunette appeared to sense
the rest of the story. “Joseph’s dead!” she
screamed. “I know he’s dead—”

There was a long silence. Then Piano -

said, “We have a good description of the
man responsible for this. You must help
by telling us all you know.”

It took Mrs. Carlucci several minutes to
collect herself. “I don’t know how to
begin,” she said finally. “We’ve been mar-

ried six years. My name was Angela Ross. !

Joseph was a good provider, but he didn’t
tell me anything about his business.” :
Deputy Piano asked her to tell them
what had happened earlier that night. ~~
“We had dinner around seven o'clock,”
the ‘widow answered. “Joseph was in the
living room and I was in the kitchen doing
the dishes when the doorbell rang. He
answered it and I heard another man’s
voice. Right after that he came out to the
kitchen and said he was going for a ride
with a friend. I was told not to wait up.
They left about eight o’clock. I didn’t see
Joseph after that.”
Trooper Picard asked if she hadn’t seen
the friend or recognized the voice. 2
“No,” Mrs. Carlucci answered sadly.
to be questioned
at all.” *

Deputy Piano then described the stranger
who had been seen

“setae

lunch room.


26

- easier.”

LTHOUGH the windshield wiper was
working perfectly, a blinding snow
storm made it almost impossible for
George Morgan to maneuver his car
along slippery Thompson Road out-

side Syracuse, New York, in the darkness

of the March night. His wife was sitting’

beside him, and she was nervous. They
were both relieved when the red tail light
of another car ahead came into view.
“ll pull up close,” Morgan said. “Fol-
lowing that fellow should make driving

- Suddenly three shots broke the silence.

<

on

GIALLARENZI, Alfred, white, electrocuted Sing Sing (Onondaga) on Feb. 751935.

The right front door of the car ahead
opened. A man jumped out, lost his foot-
ing temporarily, then ran into the cemetery
that borders the road. . g

Mrs. Morgan clutched her husband’s
arm in sheer terror. They watched with
bated breath as the sedan in front swerved
dangerously, left the road and crashed
headlong into a large tree.

There was a crashing sound of shattering

glass.
George Morgan brought his car to a
skidding stop some distance behind the

smash-up. Then he opened the door and

oe moe i

hala mo ers oe ~ é , c
Paul id sa i ah, sail a
i ee ae post *

od & * £2

Ree,

.

started to get out, but his wife pulled him
back. 78
“Wait!” she pleaded. “Something awful
has happened. Let’s take no chances,”

- Morgan closed the door and eased his
car up until it was abreast of the wrecked
vehicle. They waited, but there was no
sign “se gh pcg inside.

“Please don’t get out,” the
begged. “This is a lonely spot, Any aed
“eae happen out here. I’m afraid” :
ut no urging was needed. :

gan had lowered a window ee a
positive he could see the figure of a man

a


if BN
: wy , ‘

Alfred was a “‘friend” of Joseph. But

5, he had a difficult time proving ~

x

PD

that “friendship” after Joseph was

*

murdered and persistent detectives’

brought out certain facts!

By

JOHN FREDERICKS

A KILLER’S GUILE—
Police photo shows how a gunman concealed
automatic beneath the bandages on his arm.

~

od

slumped over the steering wheel. That’s
when he stepped on the gas and headed
for the State Troopers’ barracks at East
Syracuse.
It was shortly before 11 o’clock that
stormy night when the frightened man and
his wife finished relating the mysterious
circumstances on Thompson Road.
Sergeant John Perry said: “That doesn’t
sound like any ordinary accident. I'll have
to ask you iy accompany officers back to EXECUTED—
the scene at once.” : ie 7s ee
Troopers Richard Voight and Howard He walked to | the chair’ ees,
Picard were summoned after Perry had. after riding with a friend.

oe Rat :
ir = . yt
Biaiiatect Oa

Sete an

T WAS |:
cloaked 1
Island, \

brown and 1
burning leav:
haze obscure
A middle-a
into a gully
of a tall chest
admirable fu:
big estates n
six-year-old <
around the gi
ate into the t
Suddenly t
toward his f
torted in terr
“Papa! Pa
a bogeyman
“Hush, no
“What did yc
“No! No!
boy. “Come s
Taking his
him cautious!
where he sto
downward.
The man lc
his own flesh c

the leaves w
skull grinning
“Come on,
up the trembl:
“we're going :
about this!”

ALF an!
his son
returned to t
discovery wit
cluding Tow
Havens and (

The corone

Not a shred
tattered remn
black coat clu
A man’s black
around the ne

Studying th
ing to the blea
perfect, well-k
clared:

“My guess
was a blonde a
I'd say the bo:

' than a year an
As to the ma
obvious clue.”

“Hey, coro:
had walked
scene, “I’ve f

Dr. Savage
found the res
the bones of b:
patent-leather
He bent to ex


PERETTI CORE esheets sa arama Veit ata oremmntnarcemnie evavarymaneneyensee! Rota ST

pave ta cSHeE bo a
praemeremerin Keen

Gilbert Coleman, May 9, 1910,
Samuel D, Austin, January 3, 1911,
Thomas Barnes, June 12, 1911
Fred Gebhardt, June 12, 1911

- Pietro Falletta, Nov, 20, 1911

Phillip Montgano, Jan. 8, 1912
Albert Wolter, January 29, 1912

ong ea ene

I WAS CONDEMNED
TO THE CHAIR

By EDWARD F. McGRATH

Sing Sing Death-house Prisoner No. 60021
Recommitted for Twenty Years to Life as No. 61550

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY

GEORGE W. KIRCHWEY, LL.D.
Former Warden of Sing Sing Prison

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
NEW YORK MCMXXXIV

SG34

Cy
"*TT6T/2T/9 (HTOTING) AM *osTS ‘faqtum ‘HoTZ90Sae SToweHaID


‘BLUEBEARD KILLER»

cloaked the forests near Islip, Long
& Island, with rich shades of yellow,
brown and red. The pungent smell of
burning leaves was in the air and a gray
haze obscured the setting sun.

A middle-aged woodcutter strode down
into a gully to start work on the limbs
of a tall chestnut tree which would make
admirable fuel for the fireplaces of the
big estates nearby. With him was his
six-year-old son who hopped and skipped
around the gully as his father’s sharp ax
ate into the tough, green wood.

Suddenly the child screamed and ran
toward his father, his little face con-
torted in terror.

“Papa! Papa!” he shrieked.
a bogeyman down there 1".

“Hush, now,” said the woodcutter.
“What did you see—a hoot owl ?”

“No! No!” insisted the frightened
boy. ‘Come see Viag

Taking his father’s hand, the son led
him cautiously
where he stopped abruptly and pointed
downward.

The man looked. What he saw made
his own flesh crawl, for lying there among
the leaves was a human skeleton, its
skull grinning at the sky !

“Come on, sonny,” he said, sweeping
up the trembling boy in his strong arms,
“we're going into town and tell the police
about this!”

|: WAS late October and autumn had

“There’s

peAle an hour later, the woodcutter,
his son safely deposited, at homie,
returned to the scene of the shocking
discovery with a party of officers in-
cluding Town Constable Nicoll D.
Havens and Coroner W. B. Savage.

The coroner bent over the remains.

Not a shred of flesh remained, but the
tattered remnants of a black dress and
black coat clung to the whitened bones.
A man’s black silk muffler had been tied
around the neck.

Studying the few wisps of hair adher-
ing to the bleached skull and noticing the
perfect, well-kept teeth, Dr. Savage de-
clared:

“My guess would be that this woman
was a blonde about twenty-five years old:
I’d say the body had lain here not more
than a year and not less than six months.
As to the manner of death, there’s no
obvious clue.”

“Hey, coroner !” called Havens, who
had walked 20 feet away from the
scene, “I’ve found some more bones !”

Dr. Savage joined Havens and
found the rest of the skeleton,
the bones of both legs with black
patent-leather pumps attached.
He bent to examine them.

to the end_ of the gully .

“One of those bones has been chewed
by some animal,” he said, “But it’s hard
to tell whether it. was before or after
death. I hardly think the woman was
attacked and killed by an animal but it’s
a possibility.” ‘

The constable and the coroner now
turned their attention to the ground im-
mediately around the skeleton in a search
for clues. The clothing appeared to be
of foreign style and workmanship, was
of good material and well made, but bore
no labels. Delving into the pockets of the
coat, constable Havens withdrew a yel-
lowed slip of paper and studied it.

“Here’s something!” he said finally,
turning to Dr. Savage. “It looks like a
sales slip, but all writing on it has faded.
You can see the ruled lines, though, and
the name of the merchant printed at the
top. What’s that name look like to you?”

The coroner studied the slip a moment
and then spelled out: “Otto Schomm—
Altona—” “I can’t make out the rest,”
he added. :

_ Pocketing the piece of paper, Consta-
ble Havens renewed the search with Dr.
Savage. Soon they were rewarded by
another discovery—a small, gold watch,
which had been fastened to the coat by a
blue enamel fleur-de-lis pin.

Snapping open the front lid, Havens
studied the face. Then he wound the stem
several times.

“The watch stopped at three-fifteen,”
he said. “That might be the time of death,
or again, the watch might have continued
running. It doesn’t, however, seem to
have run completely down.”

“Tt could have been stopped then,”
pointed out Dr. Savage, “by a sudden
shock or jolt.”

The constable now snapped open the
back lid and found, scratched inside it
with some sharp instrument, the irregular
letters: “A. L.”

“A, L. and Otto Schomm, Altona,”
mused Havens. “If only we could tie
these clues up.”

“Wait a minute,” said Dr. Savage.
“Schomm is a German name—and those
letters scratched on the watch ‘lid look
like German script. In all likelihood, the
victim was a German girl or of German
descent.” i

“T think you're right,” agreed Havens.
“Let’s have a look under those bones.
i Soh one place we haven't searched so

ar.” i

Carefully, they lifted the skeleton, piece
by piece, to a spot several feet from where
it had been found. Closely examining the

By DAVID ROBINSON GEORGE

spot Constable Havens soon made another
startling discovery—a soft-nosed, .32
caliber bullet.

“Guess that’s the answer to how she
died,” he said to the coroner.

Dr. Savage nodded. “Although the
skull shows no bullet holes, the slug could
have entered the abdomen or passed be-
tween the ribs and struck a vital spot.”

“And it could have remained in the
body,” finished the constable, “until de-
composition set in. Then, with nothing to
retain it, the bullet could have dropped
to the ground beneath the bones.”

“Let’s get back to town and report to

‘the district attorney,” said Dr. Savage.

“This seems to be murder !””

R ETURNING to Islip, the coroner or-
dered his deputy, Charles S. Dailey,
to bring the skeleton to the town morgue
for an autopsy. Then Dr. Savage and
Constable Havens set out in their car to
drive to the Suffolk county seat at River-
head.

Three-quarters of an hour later they
entered the office of District Attorney
George H. Furman and reported what
they had found. The prosecutor agreed
that the victim probably had been mur-
dered and added:

“That German angle looks good—the

‘watch, the bill of sale and the foreign-
looking clothes. I’m going to get in
touch with Brooklyn police headquarters
immediately and have them contact the
German consulate.”

District’ Attorney Furman then put
through a long distance call to Brooklyn,
the nearest New York City divisional
headquarters. He asked for Detective
Capt. John D. Coughlin, whom he knew
personally.

“Captain,” said Furman, “we've got
what looks like a tough murder case out
here, and we’d like you to help us.”

“Tell you what,” replied Capt. Cough-
lin’s voice over the wire, “T’ll send one of
my best men out there to work on the
casé, Then he can come: back here and
follow up any leads he sees fit. His
name’s Bill Roddy!”

“Roddy—good enough !” said Furman.
“He’s an ace. Send him direct to my
office.”

“He doesn’t come on duty until tomor-
row morning,” replied the captain, “but
he'll be there bright and early.”

Detective Roddy, tall and husky, with a
small black mustache, stepped off a Long
Island railroad train at the Riverhead

station at 7:30 the next morning,

Tuesday, October 19.

At the district attorney’s office
he found Furman waiting for
him with Constable Havens and

ll


5 ¥

40 I WAS CONDEMNED TO THE CHAIR

little green door, turn and wave to the curtained
cells and then step—into eternity?

“So long, boys!”

Forgive me if I seem to approach the maudlin.
It isn’t that, it is merely that Billy’s electrocution
meant more to me than the killing of any other
man who was in the death-house during my term
there. Even today I can close my eyes and see
everything that took place, hear every sound, feel
again that sense of personal loss I felt after Billy
had gone. ,

The night of Billy’s electrocution was a terrific
ordeal for a second reason. He did not go to his
death alone. He followed, by less than ten min-
utes, Frederick Gebhardt, a bigamist who sought
to escape from his entanglements by murdering
one of his wives. The law caught up with him and
justice brooked no delay. He was tried, convicted
and sent to the death-house as quickly as possible.
And he stayed with us the shortest length of time
the law allowed.

Gebhardt, as I say, preceded Billy, and that aw-
ful significant drone was heard in the death house
before the strong arm squad came to get Barnes.
It was the drone of death. Then Billy went.
Again that drone with all that it implied. I shall
never forget it as long as I live.

I don’t know how my mind withstood the shock
of that night. No matter how many times I saw
one of the boys led away, the physical pain and
mental torture increased. Never, on these nights,

I WAS CONDEMNED TO THE CHAIR 41

could I sleep. I could not even sit still. Hour

_after hour I would pace the floor of my cell until

at last the black squares of skylight would turn
gray, then pink, and finally there would appear the
first rays of the morning sun. Not until then could
I free myself of the horror of the night before, or
of that hounding, gnawing fear that some day they
would come to my cell, slit the leg of my trousers,
lead me to that barbaric, terrible seat of torture
and death.

On the nights of executions, my will-power
failed me. At other times I managed to keep my
mind relatively free of fear and worry. I read
and studied, played checkers or other games with
my fellow prisoners, kept going at the harmonica,
wrote endless letters. And it was these things, I
am sure, that saved me from insanity. During the
time I was in the death-house, I saw two of the
boys taken out and sent to Dannemora—raving
maniacs!

I realized that they had brooded until finally

their brains had given way under the strain. And

seeing them strengthened my determination to
keep a healthy mind. I couldn’t keep from think-
ing of my fate and from studying every possible
means of saving myself from the chair, but I could
—and I did—keep from permitting it to become
an obsession.

As I think back over the men I saw sent there,
the futility and injustice of the death penalty im-
presses itself on me more and more. In every case,

By WILLIAM D. RODDY

FORMERLY OF THE
NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT

with TOM DUNLAP

“TFOMICIDE CASE over at Central
H Islip, Long Island.” John P. Cough-
lin, then a captain in charge of the
New York Detective Bureau, handed me
a slip of paper on which he had scribbled
a few lines, and added tersely: “Looks
like a newspaper romance story; prob-
ably one of the patients from the Insane
Asylum who wandered away and com-
mitted suicide.
“Take a run over there with Thomas

Murray. See this man, Charles Dailey,
the undertaker, who seems to be a sort »

of amateur sleuth and who has the body
at his place. This is the first ‘murder mys-
tery’ Islip’s had in over twenty years,
and the villagers are all excited over it.”

I accepted the assignment, hunted up
Murray in the squad room, and with him
caught the 12:51 p.m. train for the Long
Island town.

In the morning newspapers I had read
one of the accounts which my chief had
referred to, and like him I had been
rather amused by the imaginative yarn,
Big news happened to be scarce just then,
and the finding of a richly clothed and
bejeweled skeleton in the great scrub-
oak wastes of Long Island had lent itself
beautifully to extravagant journalistic
fictionalization. -

The find had been made two days be-
fore by a little boy hunting huckleberries
and, working on a wisp of flaxen hair, a
black velvet ribbon, a few trinkets, and
some storm-faced clothing, the news-
hounds had sniffed out a highly colored
tragedy.

A body in the woods almost a year!
Who was the girl? Who could have killed
her? What motive could have prompted
the act? But all in good time, I told my-
self. No use jumping at hasty conclu-
sions.

In midsummer Bay Shore, Islip, and
Amityville are attractive places. Good
roads run through shady green woods.
Brilliant blue vistas of the Sound and
great placid waterlily ponds add exquis-
ite touches to an otherwise monotonous
stretch of flat country.

But that morning when Murray and
I speeded toward the home of New York’s
most famous insane asylum, a dun, misty
haze hung over gaunt trees which Fall
had almost stripped bare. Nearing our
destination, we passed through an even
more desolate country where acres of
scrub had been blackened by fire.

“Let’s visit a lunchroom before attack-
ing the undertaker,” Murray suggested.
“T didn’t have any dinner. What about
you?”

“Sounds good to me,” I replied. “I was
just finishing my report when the Chief
rang for me. Some ham and eggs and
coffee will make a: good foundation.
Must be some sort of eating place here
for the relatives of the patients at the
hospital,”

Islip, we discovered when we got off
the train and walked a few blocks of
country road where houses were in the
course of construction, had a lively main
thoroughfare, A spick-and-span beanery
stood on one corner and without further
investigation we entered and ordered the
good old standby.

“You young men from the news-
papers?” the rosy-cheeked waitress
asked after she had taken our orders.

Without directly committing ourselves

‘sleuths,” said Murray.

to any special newspaper, Murray and |
permitted the damsel to retain her delu-
sion, and requested her to hurry up with
the eats.

“You newspaper boys are always ina
hurry,” she remarked, as with a flirt of
her starched skirt she flounced off. “But
maybe I could tell you something inter-
esting about that murder case,” she flung
over her shoulder before disappearing

through swinging doors which evidently

led to the kitchen.

“This village must be a nest of amateur
“At that, she
might be able to tell us something. Might
as well get it from all sides.”

When the waitress returned with two
large platters laden with good thick
slices of nicely crisped ham and fried
eggs, Murray’s irritability evaporated.

“And what could you tell us, Sis?” he
asked with a benign smile, at the same
time making an assault on the dish placed
before him. “Don’t tell us if you don’t
want to,” he anticipated her coy evasions
and cute desire to be coaxed.

His play won. After a moment’s hesi-
tation, she replied:

“Well, we live on the road not far from
where the body was found. An’ last
Thanksgiving Eve I was working in the
kitchen with Ma, on account of my uncle
and aunt and cousins and my gentleman
friend comin’ to dinner the next day.
*Round midnight we heard an automobile
go tearing past, and a girl screeching
piteously—oh, just piteously!” Her eyes
rolled in horror at the recollection.

“Oh, there ain’t nothin’ in that,”
scoffed a big, beetle-browed man who
was standing near the cash register. “It’s
not likely that a body woulda lain undis-
covered for nearly a year. Don’t be givin’
out yarns like that. They’ll be calling
you up as a witness and takin’ your time
off from your work here. I won’t stand
for that, Marie. You’re just seekin’ no-
toriety.”

“Well, of all the nerve!” The girl
snorted angrily. “And who are you, pray?
Guess if they investigate a few of our
local sheiks right here in Islip they might
uncover a few things! I ain’t mentionin’
any names yet, but I don’t mean to be
insulted!”

The man behind the counter flushed;
his eyes darted furious sparks at the
waitress, who looked him straight in the
face. Their silence spoke volumes.

“Don’t believe there’s anything there,”
I remarked to Murray as we left the
place. “The mustached Romeo is prob=
ably an ex-beau of hers. Always a bunch
of skylarkers about a little town like
this.”

A police officer directed us to Under-
taker Dailey’s place with a knowing
grin. “Guess you’ll find him right there,
too,” he added. ‘“He’s a busy man these
days.”

We found Charles Dailey’s home and
undertaking establishment in the middle
of an attractive block of comfortable res-
idences. Late roses bloomed in front
yards; neatly clipped box hedges bor-
dered well-kept small lawns.

Fortunately, we found the undertaker
alone. Instead of being the fussy little
busybody we had pictured, he was a
singularly dignified man of middle age,
immaculately groomed. Premature white
hair covered his head, and a short


Ty ru

ARDT, Frederick, wh, elec. NYSP (Suffolk) June 12, 1911

Pe

POSED BY MODELS

The girl recoiled in horror
» when she saw he had a gun in
“his hand. At that moment she

realized her terrible mistake

Several wisps of blonde hair, some jewelry
and a coat label revealed the tragic end of a girl

m beguiled into wedding a heartless scoundrel


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Case of the
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(Continued from page 7)

As the Long Island officers sat_in rapt
attention, Roddy continued. “Undér the
back lid of the watch you'll notice that the
regulator bears the letters ‘A...R”’ Our
watches, in the same place, have ¥....S’,
meaning ‘Fast...Slow.’ But ‘A....R’ stands
for ‘Advance....Retard.’ Swiss watches car-
ry those abbreviations in French, so that’s
a tipoff that this is a Swiss watch. How-
ever, Swiss watches for export to Great
Britain and America are marked with the
English abbreviations ‘F....S’. So we know,
then, that this watch was sold somewhere
on the European continent. And from the
script in which the ,owner’s initials are
scratched inside the case, it probably was
sold in Germany.”

Praising the  detective’s deduction,
Havens and Dr. Savage took him next to
the secluded grove where the skeleton had
been found. Havens explained that a
realty company was developing the land
as a residential site, although only a few

lots had been sold. Roddy suggested it ‘

might be possible that the slain woman
was a customer of the real estate company.

Consul Makes Inquiries

After studying the terrain, Roddy re-
turned to Islip with the local officers’ and
visited the office of the realty development
company. There the dapper manager told
him that the lots at the crime scene had
been sold to a Mrs. Louisa Auer of New
York and Frederick Gebhardt of Astoria.

The detective exchanged a knowing
look with Havens and Savage at the dis-
closure that the lots were owned by per-
sons with German names. Then, pointing
to a wall map of the development, he
singled out the lot on which the skeleton

had been found. That piece of ground, the.

manager informed him, had been sold to
Mrs. Auer,

This woman, the manager continued
under questioning, was about 25, blonde
and plump, She had purchased three lots
only two months earlier.

Outside the real estate office, Roddy told
the local officers they would hear from
him soon. Then he took the next train back
to the city, where he Bong to call on
the German consul and Mrs. Auer,

Arriving in New York, the detective
went directly to East Tenth Street in Man-
hattan, where Mrs. Auer had an apart-
ment. He rang the bell for several min-
utes, but there was no response. He made
inquiries at the apartment next door.
There he was told by a woman neighbor
that Mrs. Auer had not been seen since
she went away two months earlier, and
that no one in the building ever had seen
her husband, The young blonde had been
tight-lipped and had little to do with her
neighbors.

From the apartment building Detective
Roddy went to the offices of the German
consulate at 17 Battery Place, on the lower
tip of Manhattan. There he laid the facts
9 the case before Consul General Karl

Benz, an efficient, precise official typical
of the old school German diplomatic corps.

Benz studied the words Roddy had

copied from the sales slip in the slain
woman’s pocket.
-he repeated. Then he reached for an atlas
of Germany.

“Otto Schomm—Altona,”

“Here it is,” he said at last. “Altona is a

village in Schleswig-Holstein. If there is
an Otto Schomm

ere, the local police

would know, I shall send them a cable

at once.” : s

Late that evening the Altona police de-
partment made its full report.

One Otto Schomm, the report said in
effect, was a hardware dealer with a shop
on Koenig Street in Altona. In February-
of the previous year, he had sold a variety .
of household goods to Anna Luther of -
Weida, Saxony. The Altona police had
located Adolph Wuerl, a tailor, who had
known Anna Luther and had made the
black coat for her. The tailor reported
Fraulein Luther had married Otto Mueller
and sailed with him to the United States.
Her temporary address in this country, she
had told friends, would be the home of Mr,
and Mrs. Herman Strauss in the 200 block
of South Sixth Street, Brooklyn.

Roddy and Benz agreed that the victim
undoubtedly was Anna Luther, as .in-
dicated by both the sales slip and the
initials on the watch case. From the con-
sulate Roddy hurried across the East River
to the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn
to follow up the lead on the former
Fraulein Luther’s temporary address.

The detective walked up South Sixth
Street but failed to find the address given
in the cable. Suddenly he realized what
had happened. The street address un-
doubtedly was correct, but there was a
mistake in the city, for the numbers on
the Brooklyn street did not run as high
as 200. Roddy consulted maps of other
cities in the metropolitan area and soon
determined that the only one where a
South Sixth Street had numbers as high as
200 was Newark, N. J. :

Although it was now after dark, Roddy
lost no time in following up this important
clue. He went to Newark and sought out
the Sixth Street address, a three-story
frame house, where he was gratified to
find Herman Strauss, a husky brewery
superintendent. “I’m looking for Anna ‘
Luther and Otto Mueller,” the detective
said. “Do you know them?”

“Ja!” replied’ Strauss, stroking his thick
blond mustache. “Such a fine pair they
were. But I, too, am wondering what hap-
pened to them. Since they were here last
April on their honeymoon, we have heard
nothing from them,

Seated in the living room of the Newark
house, Roddy drew from Strauss the stor
of Anna Luther, a pretty, 26-year-old,
blue-eyed blonde. She was a sweet, gentle
girl with a generous, trusting nature,
whom everyone loved. Anna had come
hopefully to America, Strauss continued,
to get a job in domestic service, eventually

oing to Newark to live with the Strauss
amily, whom her parents had known in
Germany. ;

She had become acquainted with a man

named Otto Mueller, whom she had proud-
ly introduced to the Strausses in February.
Mueller, Strauss said, was of medium
height and wiry, with a black ‘ mustache
and a peculiar undershot lower jaw.
‘ Only two days after Anna had intro-
duced Mueller to the Strausses, she mar-
ried him at their home, with a Newark
pastor. officiating and the Strausses acting
as witnesses. She had said that she ex-
pected to get some money from, her father
when they went to visit him on their
honeymoon,

It was on February 10 that Mueller and
his pretty bride sailed and the Strausses
had heard nothing further from them until
the, following April 2. On that day Mrs.
Strauss had gone to answer the door and
found Anna g there alone. The
bride said she wanted to stay with the
Straysses for a couple of days until her
husband could get the baggage from the
pier out to Jamaica, Long Island, where
he had bought a house for her. All the

dowry she had been able to get from her a

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of the Newark
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- father was $400, she told them, and Mueller
obviously had been disappointed.

Strauss told Roddy that Mueller. ap-
peared at their house two days later in a
great hurry and took Anna away, saying
he would get in touch with them but fail-
ing to leave any address. The couple had
returned on the same ship they had taken
across, the Amerika, Strauss added.

From Newark Roddy went back to New
York and visited the offices of the North
German Lloyd Line, operators of the
Amerika. There he learned from the re-
cords that the baggage of the Otto Muel-
lers, comprising four large trunks, had
been sent to an address in Hoboken.

Recrossing the river to Hoboken, Roddy
found the address was that of a large
storage warehouse, The night manager
there told him that the Muellers’ trunks
had been transferred, soon after their ar-
rival, to an address on Woolsey Avenue,
Astoria, Long Island.

The next day events took a rapid turn.
At the Astoria house, @ small, two-story
residence, Roddy, posing as an election
registration investigator, found a sharp-
featured, middle-aged woman who knew
nothing of Otto Mueller, but identified
herself as Mrs. Frederick Gebhardt. The
name clicked instantly in the mind of the
detective as that of one of the purchasers
of the Islip property. ; ;

Roddy obtained a picture of Gebhardt
from his wife’s family album. In Newark
it°was identified by the Strausses as a
photograph of Otto Mueller!

A Modern Bluebeard?

A question flashed through Roddy’s
mind, Otto Mueller had married Anna
Luther a few months before she disap-
peared. Frederick Gebhardt had been
married for some years to an older woman.
Were Mueller and Gebhardt the same
man?

Roddy was convinced they were. With
Detective Thomas A. Murray he went to
the Gebhardt house, armed with a search
warrant, and demanded that the suspect's
wife admit them. In the basement they
found four large trunks from which all
tags had been removed. In the kitchen
pantry they discovered a box of .32-caliber
cartridges from which some were missing.

By this time newspaper Ghetegrephers,
attracted to the scene by word which had
reached headquarters in Centre Street,
were exploding flashes in front of the
house. One of their flares revealed, under
the latticework beneath the front porch,
a white, frightened face. The detectives
quickly took the owner into custody. He
was Frederick Gebhardt, alias Otto Mueller.

‘Before the: officers left with their. pris-
oner, a police department locksmith had
opened the trunks and withdrawn dozens
of dresses, all marked ‘A.L.’, the initials
of Anna Luther.

Taken to police headquarters, Gebhardt
was identified without question by the
Strausses as the man they had known as
Otto Mueller. Yet the suspect, grilled for
five hours under bright lights, steadfastly
denied that he had been the husband of
Anna Luther.

Finally Captain Coughlin sent for the
package of dresses and undergarments
which the police locksmith had taken from
the trunks of Anna Luther. From the
package Coughlin seized a petticoat and
two dresses, both embroidered with the
initials “A. L.”, which he thrust in front
of the prisoner's eyes. “These belonged to
Anna Luther!” he shouted. “They were
found in one of the trunks in your cellar.
You murdered her, and we know how and
why. Now will you tell the truth?”

Gebhardt bowed his head and gingerly
placed one hand around his throat, “I-guess

eae

you can stretch my neck,” he said hollow-
ly, “with what you already have on me.”

Then, while a police stenographer took
down his words, Gebhardt made a strange
and horrible confession. He was already
married, he said, when he met Anna
Luther in Newark and asked her to marry
him. That was the only way she would
have it, he explained, and he couldn’t tell
her about his wife, from whom he was
separated. So he went through with the
ceremony.

“Anna was fresh, young and lovely,”
he said. “But I soon realized I was too
old for her.”

After he came back from Europe, he
continued, he became lonesome for his
original’ wife and resolved to return to
her. So he told Anna that he had a house
in Jamaica. They went there together, and
he explained that this had been an exag-
geration, but that he did have some land
in Islip.

“That led to a furious argument,” he
went on. “But we made up and stayed all
night at a hotel in Jamaica. The next day
we took a train out to Islip to look at my
lots. We were standing there in the woods
when I decided to tell her the truth.
‘Anna,’ I said, ‘I lied to you because I
loved you. I already had one wife when
I married you. I must go back to her.’”

Anna fainted, he said. When she came
to her senses, she begged him not to leave
her and kissed him. Here Gebhardt broke
off and covered his. face with his hands.
“I started to walk away,” he continued,
“and Anna ran after me. I drew my gun
to strike her. The first thing I knew, I had
shot her. She sank to the ground and I
ran back to town.”

The prisoner admitted that he had re-
turned to the murder scene five days later
to see if the body was there. It wasn’t.
He wondered why.

“Your bullet,” Roddy told him, “didn’t
kill the poor girl at once. She must have

crawled from your property to that of.

she: was found. That
in the forest—like a

Mrs. Auer, where
girl diced alone
wounded animal!”

Gebhardt claimed he had no intention of
killing Anna Luther, but carried the gun
as protection, After the slaying he threw
it out of a train window, he declared. But
he was lying again, for when his legal wife
arrived at headquarters the next day she
Seouant a_ ,32-caliber revolver she had
found hidden in a closet of their home.
Gebhardt was forced to admit this was the
murder weapon,

Mrs. Gebhardt also told detectives her
husband had married her in the belief that
she had more money than actually was the
case, and said she believed this was his
true motive in marrying Anna Luther.
Further, she said, a woman friend who had
known Gebhardt for many years in Ger-
many had told her he already had seven
wives, all of whom were in their graves!
Anna Luther and herself would make nine!

Exactly one year after the remains of
Anna Luther had been found, on October
18, 1910, Gebhardt went on trial in the
county courthouse at Riverhead before

Supreme Court Justice Joseph Aspinall .

and a jury. Three days later he was con-
victed of first degree murder. On June 11,
1911, after a series of reprieves, he was
carried into the Sing Sing death chamber
and electrocuted. The thought of execution
unnerved him so that he collapsed:

The pathetic murder of Anna Luther by
a coldblooded Bluebeard at last had been
avenged.

Evrror’s Note: To spare possible em-
barrassment to innocent persons, the names
Mrs, Louisa Auer‘and Mr. and Mrs. Her-
Asa Strauss, used in this story, are fic-

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11


“T was sick in New York City.”

“I have definite proof that you were
in this city on the night of Carlucci’s
murder,” I told him.

“That can’t be, for I was under the
care of Doctor Alfred Merra, of the
Bronx,” he retorted. “His address is
No. 2363 Southern Boulevard. As a
matter of fact, I think I still have a
letter home which the doctor wrote for
me to give my boss at the New York
Telephone Company, where I used to
work.”

“If you’re a New Yorker, how does it
happen that you are living here?” I
asked.

“As I said, I worked for the New
York Telephone Company,” Giallarenzi
answered slowly. “I also belonged to
No. 258 Field Artillery of the National
Guard, and every Summer I camped
with my outfit at Oswego, for two
weeks. I came to like Syracuse and,
when I had trouble at home, I decided
to live here.”

“What kind of trouble at home?” I
broke in.

“With my wife,” Alfred snarled. His
face hardened, and an evil light came
into his eyes as he added:

“She was no better than a dirty
street-walker!”

a him away,” I commanded
Piano.

As soon as they left the room, I put
through a call to Doctor Merra in New
York. Within a few minutes I sum-
moned Piano back to my office.

“Mike, I’ve just talked with Doctor
Merra and he says that he did not
treat Alfred and did not know where
he was at the time of the murder. A
week before he wrote a note to the
Telephone Company saying Giallarenzi
was sick. Doctor Merra felt that
Alfred wasn’t in good shape and a
week’s rest would do him good. So
during the week of the murder, Doctor
Merra didn’t know where Giallarenzi
was.”

I called Mrs. Alfred Giallarenzi in
New York, but when I began to ques-
tion her about Alfred, she was evasive.
Finally I told her the charge pending
against her husband. Still she would
give only cautious replies. At last, I
said to her:

“I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs. Gial-
larenzi, that your husband spoke very
badly of you. He called you a dirty
street-walker!”

There was silence for a moment, and
then she burst out:

“If he claims that he was home sick
at the time of the murder, he’s a liar!
That week he and Tony Nadile went
up-state on a fishing trip.”

Nadile! Could this be the name of
the murderer we had been hunt’ng as
Tony Gallo? A moment later Deputy
Sher'ff Raymond Guilfoyle rushed ex-
citcdly into my office with several
small blue slips of paper.

“Money order receipts,” he said,
placing them on my desk. “I found
them in the dresser of Mrs. Carlucci’s
room.”

I arranged them in the order of date,
and read:

July 3, 1933, $15 to Alfred Gialla-
renzi, No. 800 East 223rd St., N. Y. C.

July 7, 1933, $10 to Alfred Gialla-
renzi, No. 800 East 223rd St., N. Y. C.

August 8, 1933, $25 to Alfred Gial-
larenzi, No. 800 East 223rd St., N. Y. C.

September 5, 1933, $15 to Alfred
Giallarenzi, No. 800 East 223rd St.,
bye oth ;

October 2, 1933, $25 to Anthony Na-
dile, No. 900 East 213th St. N. Y. C.

November 7, 1933, $15 to Anthony
Nadile, No. 900 East 213th St., N. Y. C.

All signed Angela Ross!

Two other receipts, dated November,
1933, bore the name of Anthony Nadile,
same address, but the signature on
these was Alfred Di Lorenzo,

\ RAE were they? Payments for
murder?

“These slips go a long way toniend
cracking our case. They prove that
Alfred Giallarenzi knew Angela Car-
lucci in July, although they both insist
stubbornly that they didn’t meet until
August. Where and when they did
meet we don’t know yet, but we do

Os

know now that Giallarenzi and Gallo
(or Nadile) managed to get back to
New York right after the murder with-
out being detected.

“Four months later Angela started
to make payments for the murder in
small amounts, presumably to Nadile,
but she was smart enough to make
them out to her lover, who cashed
them ard turned the money over to
Nadile. But after September 5, the
payments are sent by Angela direct to
Nadile. Why?

“Because Giallarenzi couldn’t stand
being away from h’s_ beloved any
longer, and came back to Syracuse.
Angz2la was then forced to make pay-
ments direct to the killer!”

Although we had gone this far to-
ward what we believed was a soluticn
to the Carlucci case, I realized that we
were faced with a difficult problem so
far as the trial was concerned, Our
evidence was ent'rely circumstantial. I
could prove a motive, and I could place
Giallarenzi’s car at the scene of the
murder, but that was all.

I had to meke Angela Carlucet talk.

Armed with this new information, I
hammered at her hour after hour, re-
mind'ng her at strategic intervals that
murderesses are electrocuicd in New
York State, and promising her partial
immunity if she would confess. She
begin as dumb and cold as a clam,
but finally she decided to sacrifice her
lover and save herself.

She agreed to make a full confession!

Angz2la told us that she was born in
Oklahoma, and that her father died
when she was very young. Some years
later, her mother married Carlo Car-
lucci, and the family came to Syracuse
to live. It was here that she met
Joseph and elop2d with him,

Her first meeting with Alfred Gial-
larenzi occurred on July 26, 1931, she
said, while he attended the National
Guard camp. They soon became pas-
sionate lovers. In September, 1932,
Giallarenzi returned to Syracuse for a
few days, and their intimacy was
eagerly resumed.

“He began talking about getting rid
of my husband,” Angela’s confession
continued. “At first I refused—but he
was so insistent I finally said it would
be all right with me if it could be done
without any danger.

“On March 15 Alfred drove up again.
He had a man in the car with him,
Anthony Nadile, who he said would
do it. We drove to Liverpool, where
we parked. Alfred had warned me in
a letter to say I had only three thou-
sand dollars, and when Nadile asked
me what I had, that was what I told
him.

tt'TONY said one thousand would be
all right, but it was a bargain
rat? because he knew Alfred.

“We drove around and picked out
Thompson Road as the best place. Tony
was to bandage up his arm and call at
our house with a letter of introduction
from a close friend of my husband’s.
This letter was forged by Alfred. Al-
fred was to drive out ahead of Tony
and wait by the cemetery. When Tony
killed my husband, he was to jump
off and hop into Alfred’s Chevrolet.

“Everything went off all right. I let
Tony in to see my husbend and soon

after they left to go to the home of

my husband’s friend.

“But after Tony killed my husband,
he got scared because there was an-
other car behind him. He jumped out,
and escaped through the cemetery.
First, he decided to try to get the bus
for New York, but he thought that
would be too dangerous, and he came
back to my house. Alfred was already
there, and they left at once. They
drove to Oswego, and put up the car.
Later, Alfred wrote me and said they
had hitch-hiked their way back to the
Bronx.”

I took Angela’s confession in and
showed it to Giallarenzi, but he still
vehemently denied having anything to
do with the murder.

“The woman is crazy,” he stormed,
as he paced up and down the floor and
tore at his hair. But a Grand Jury
indicted him and Angela Carlucci for
first degree murder.

February 13, 1934, Giallarenzi’s trial
opened before Judge William F. Dow-
ling. The defendant was represented
by Richard J, Shannon and his son,
Paul. They put up a bitter fight to
save Alfred from the chair, and he
offered a new alibi, insisting to the last
that he had been ill in his sister’s home
in New Jersey on the night of the mur-
der. But it was all to no avail, for on
March 4, 1934, the jury found Gial-
larenzi guilty in the first degree of the
murder of Joseph Carlucci. It was al-
most a year to the day when Angela’s

kind and generous husband was lured
to his death.

Some time later, the young widow
was released on bail, the indictment in
her case to be held in abeyance, pend-
ing the arrest of Tony Nadile. At this
writing, he has not yet been located
or apprehended.

Shortly after 11 p.m. on the night
of February 7, 1935, Alfred Giallarenzi,
at the age of 31, died in the electric
chair at Sing Sing. A tragic end toa
Summer flirtation with a_ beautiful,
olive-skinned girl.

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mar T

SIALLARENZI, Alfred, white, elec. NY& (Onondaga) February 7, 1935

| The S,

——@

By RICHARD HIRSCH

know
that
anti-
allw
“Pre
the u
deale me
to 60 Paha Pins
i POD,
ge
sé
lo (Left) In this car Joseph Under tt
— Carlucci drove to a ren- into De
dezvous with death. Sketch followed
indicates position in which doubled
aupu his body was discovered, highway
654, shot through the head in the s
852, .
BUICH
40, °3«
aon RED BROWN bent low over the steering wheel and Then he stopped short, chilled with a sickening horror. the bod
85, '35 his gloved hand dabbed at the steamy moisture on the The driver of the heavy car was dead. “This
nan snow-flecked windshield, as he drove along Thompson His head was thrown back so far that Brown wondered his light
60, 70 Road, near Syracuse, New York, on the night of at the incongruous fact that his hat had not fallen off. His “You
cHev: March 15th. i lips were parted and down his face streaked a fine crimson tery,” h
fie Stabbing through the blackness, his headlights caught the stream. The snow drove in the open window and flecked “Up t
All M swirling fall of snow and brought into view the gaunt, black- the dead man’s coat collar. the top
cHRY limbed trees bordering De Witt Cemetery on the right: “What's the trouble, Fred?” called Mrs. Brown. “Tl h
Royal, “Careful, dear,” said Neb! ot dab in a low voice. The sound a his yon yr ed ar the man from his a ae
ote Ahead was the ruby glow of the tail light of a car that was _ staring contemplation of the figure before him. and star
Peri: poised on the crest of a short rise in the road. “N-nothing,” he managed to stammer. He turned and Troop
6, 34; Brown’s horn grated above the moan of the wind. His trudged through the wet snow to his own car. pockets
ane lights shimmered on the rear of a heavy sedan. Suddenly he “No use your getting all upset about this,” he told his up. Cx
6, '32, saw the door open on the right-hand side; a dark shadow’ wife. “This is a matter for the police.” Joseph
_D-8, sprang to the ground, slipped and stumbled. Then, before He cast a quick glance at the cemetery—now a thing of York.
sa, Brown realized what had happened, the ‘figure ducked under _ brooding menace. Meany
FORD a wire fence and disappeared into the cemetery. wa the sooner wey can get here, the better,” he added. into the
V-8, "3 The heavy sedan started to roll backwards. Mrs. Brown Vhen Brown arrived at a filling station a short distance cemetery
ves held her hand to her mouth. Fred fumed and swung his down the road, he telephoned the New York State Troopers expanse
GRAH: wheel hard over. There was a grinding clash of metal as at their East Syracuse Barracks. laver of
50, 90, the heavy car struck Brown’s front fender. Then it slid off “There’s a man dead in a car on Thompson Road,” he said. Pie
74-6, and slithered into a ditch, coming to rest against a tree trunk. “Looks as though he was murdered. Come to Mostiff’s gas on the «
Hubs: Brown jammed on his emergency brake, and sprang from _ station near the cemetery and I’ll show you.” his prey
ise! his machine. -: Soon the high-pitched wail of a police siren announced On at
6, '35\ “Wait, Fred,” cautioned his wife. the arrival of Troopers Howard Picard and Richard Voigt, : of the «le
“ nue s Over the crest of the hill another car approached slowly. two strapping figures clad in sheepskin coats and fur hats. tracks al
t pana Its white-faced driver peered about as if he were looking “The city police will be along in a little while,” they told left. O1
\ $22 2 for something. Suddenly, catching sight of Brown’s indignant Brown. “But we'll go night on with you.” snow us !

face, the driver shot his machine ahead and it disappeared

When they reached the death car they flashed their power-

Was raw
into the black night. ful flashlights inside. The first things they found were three The tr
‘ Brown crossed the road to the heavy sedan. “Are you empty cartridges rolling loose on the floorboard beneath the himself

crazy, or what?” he shouted at the figure at the wheel. dead man’s legs. There were no bullet holes anywhere on hundred


car Joseph
to a ren-
ath. Sketch
on in which
discovered,
the head

ng horror.

wondered
n off. His
ne crimson
ind flecked

1.
n from his

turned and
he told his
a thing of

‘he added.
rt distance
te Troopers

d,” he said.

lostiff’s gas

announced
hard Voigt,
id fur hats.
’ they told

heir power-
were three
beneath the
nvywhere on

Under the cover of darkness a shadowy form fled
into De Witt Cemetery (above). State Troopers
followed the nocturnal killer’s footprints as they
doubled back to fence (X) and disappeared on
highway. Trooper Voigt found the murder weapon
in the snow at spot marked by cross at right

the body of the automobile, and no gun was to be seen.

“This is murder, all right,” said Trooper Voigt. He flashed
his light along the side of the road.

“You said something about a man running into the ceme-
tery,” he continued, turning to Brown. “Where was it?”

“Up the road,” replied Brown. “Near the fence post at
the top of the hill.”

“Tl have a look,” said Voigt. He bent forward to meet
a snarling blast of wind that whipped the snow into his face,
and started up the hill.

Trooper Picard was rummaging through the dead man’s
pockets. He fingered a worn leather wallet and his face lit
up. Cards and the driver’s license identified the man as
Joseph Carlucci, of 641 Catherine Street, Syracuse, New
York.

Meanwhile Voigt had crossed the fence and was headed
into the deep drifts of snow that had been swept into the
cemetery. His powerful light picked up breaks in the white
expanse before him; recent footprints, covered with a thin
layer of fresh snow.

The Trooper took off his glove and his fingers tightened
on the chilly butt of his revolver. Like a hunter stalking
his prey, Voigt advanced over the ground.

On and on the footprints led, past the granite headstones
of the dead that slept beneath. Soon Voigt sensed that the
tracks ahead were changing direction, curving around to the
left. On he followed, shielding his eyes from the stinging
snow us best as he could. His bare hand gripping the revolver
was raw with the cold.

The trail was back to the road now, and soon Voigt found
himself at the wire fence. He judged that he was several
hundred yards beyond the point where he had first entered

gone tg Bee

Joseph Carlucci (circle)
was laughing and joking
when, with a sinister fig-
ure by his side, he unsus-
pectingly started on the
ride that ended in murder

the cemetery. In a wind-swept portion of the road, which
showed up dark and bare beneath, he lost the tracks of the
fleeing man. But where had he gone?

Voigt recalled that Brown had mentioned a mysterious
second car that had come from the other direction. If it had
a connection with the plot, obviously the plans had mis-
carried. The lights of the gas station filtered through the
blackness ahead, and Voigt trudged toward the cheering glow.

He found Trooper Picard questioning the proprietor when
he got there.

“Back: again,” commented Voigt by way of greeting.
“That trail curved right around to the road and ended in
nothing.”

Picard nodded. “The city officials are back at the scene
now. I came down here to do a little investigating on my
own,” he said. He turned to the filling station man.

“Seen any strangers running around loose this evening?”

“Yes,” came the somewhat unexpected reply. “About ten
minutes before you fellows got here, there was a man asking
about the bus for New York City.”

“And?”
“T told him that he’d have to wait a couple of hours. He
went over to Elm Lodge.” :

“Come on,” said Picard, buttoning his coat. ‘“‘We’ll have
a look around.”

Down the road to the lunchroom known as Elm Lodge
went the Troopers. Alice K. Sherwin, the owner, looked up
from behind the counter as the husky officers entered with
heavy stamping of feet. The Troopers looked around them.
The place was empty except for themselves and the
proprietress.

“Did you see any one waiting for a bus to New York?”

13


es eary

_ blanket that covered the yard.

14. Master

they asked the woman. She answered without hesitation.

“Yes, there was a man around here a short while ago who
wanted the New York bus. Why?”

“What did he look like?” asked Voigt, disregarding the
question.

“Medium height; sort of dark. He had a dark coat and
polka dot scarf. He didn’t wear any rubbers and his feet
tracked up the linoleum something terrible.”

“Did you notice anything peculiar about him? Did he
seem nervous?”

“He sure did. His face was so white that I thought he
was going to faint. He ordered a sandwich and a cup of
coffee and then couldn’t eat.. He got up to go to the wash-
room and when he came back he paid the bill and left without
even touching the stuff he ordered.”

Voigt rubbed his chin thoughtfully. In his trailing of the
fleeing man he had thus far failed to come across the death
gun. Its importance in the case was obvious. He realized
that a favorite hiding place for a weapon was in a washroom.

A thorough search there was undertaken, but instead of a
gun, the Troopers found a mass of surgical bandage in the
flush-box. It was white and unsoiled and portions of it were
still dry, showing that it had been in the water only a short
time. Gingerly, Picard unraveled it. At one end he found
the gauze bunched into four small ridges.

“Say, did this fellow limp or have a bandaged arm?” he
asked Mrs. Sherwin.

“No, I didn’t notice anything like that.”

“T’d like the Coroner to see this,” said Picard. “I’m going
back to the car.”

“Fine,” replied his partner. “I’m going to get an alarm
out over the teletype.”

Picard left, and Voigt telephoned the East Syracuse Bar-
racks. With the meager description of the fugitive available,
an effort was made to warn all bus and railroad terminals to
be on the watch for him.

W HEN Picard reached the murder car he found his

superior, Sergeant John Perry, engaged in conversation
with District Attorney William C. Martin and Coroner Wil-
liam R. Winne. A handful of deputy sheriffs were busy
examining the surrounding ground.

“We picked up the trail of a fellow as far as Elm Lodge,”
Picard reported. “He seems to have left this little souvenir
behind.”

The Trooper unraveled the bandage, and the Coroner bent
over to examine it in the glare of a photographer's lamp.

“Why, this is a hand bandage,” said Winne. “Those little
ridges were caused by the knuckles. There are powder
marks along the edge.”

The officials crowded around in an interested group.

“The bandage wrapped around the man’s hand concealed
a gun. A very clever ruse.” The Coroner shook his head.

Was it the trick of a crafty bandit? Had some one asked
Carlucei. to drive him to the hospital and then killed him
for his money? The victim’s effects seemed intact. Robbery
might have been a motive, but the officers at the scene didn’t
think so. There was the matter of the mysterious second
car to be considered. That showed
something prearranged.

“Possibly there is a gang angle here,”
said the District Attorney. “I think
that the next move will be to visit
Carlucci’s home and find out something
about him.”

So it was that the officials proceeded
to the victim’s residence on Catherine
Street. It was an unpretentioys white
frame dwelling. The fall of snow had
ceased by this time and the air was
clear and sharp. A lamp in the window
lit up an oblong patch of the snow

District Attorney Martin rang the
bell. He peered through the curtains
on the door and saw a black-haired
young girl arise from a table where she
was writing in a notébook, and advance
toward him. Martin stepped back a
pace.

The door opened a crack. A pair of

Detective

deep-set, black eyes peered out, regarding them in surprise.

“What do you want?” asked a soft voice.

“May we come in?” inquired the District Attorney.

The girl at the door, for she could hardly have been more
than twenty-one, looked doubtful. Her full red lips were
pursed perplexedly.

“It’s about Joseph Carlucci,” began Martin quietly.

The girl flashed a smile. “If you’ve come to see him, he
isn’t home. But you can wait,” she added, opening the door.

Martin and the others stepped into the welcome warmth
of the hall. “Are you his daughter?” asked the District
Attorney, eying the slender, girlish figure before him.

Her head arched proudly. “I’m his wife,” she replied with
a little laugh.

Martin veiled his surprise. This was going to be hard.
“There’s been an accident,” he began, rather vaguely.

The girl’s face was white now. She darted frightened looks
from one man to the other, trying to read what they already
knew.

“It’s serious,” continued Martin. He held out a hand to
steady the swaying girl.

She seemed dazed as she was led to a couch. Her face was
strained and her dark eyes gazed into space. She seemed
too shocked to cry. “What happened?” she asked dully.

“He was shot—died instantly. You'll have to tell us all
you know if we are to get the guilty person.”

The girl shook her head quickly. She brushed back a wisp
of dark hair that had fallen across her white forehead.

“My name is Angela,” she began. “We’ve been married
six years.”

Tea a
The Carlucci home.
Months after the slay-
ing, when the authori-
ties had reached an \°
impasse, Criminal Dep- \
uty Sheriff Michael
Piano’s hunch concern-
ing the murder motive
proved true. From the
roof of garage indicated
by cross, he witnessed
a significant scene

*

Angela Carlucci (Jeft), attrac-
tive young widow of the mur-
dered man. She told an amaz-
ing story to officials—a story
that sealed the doom of the man
with whom she was in love

SFOR84

wa
a

VU f

“a”

HE Onondaga county highway
superintendent quickly stepped
on his- brake and muttered
angrily under his breath, There
was a-car ahead, on the highway
outside Syracuse, New York, and it
was parked crazily, its wheels jut-
ting out almost to the middle of the
road. ie
“What’s the matter with that
guy?” the official thought. “Is he
trying to kill somebody?” ;
Carefully he inched his own car

to the left side of the highway, the —

side opposite the cemetery which
skirted the road at this point. “The
cemetery is where he’ll be if he’s
not careful,” the county man mut-
tered. He stared at the dark, square-

jawed man at the’ wheel of the .

parked car. Then his eyes shifted to
~the back seat. There was a couple
back there, a man and woman, and
they were kissing.’

THE UNHAPPY young wife

met ther lover. while vacation-
ing near the fort in which he:
was stationed. (Specially posed)

,
_

>

PY Pe

mi Cy
wig :

7
e 4

“

The highway superintendent -
shook his head. “What a place to

‘park!” he grinned wryly to himself.

“Right in the middle of the road,
with the cemetery staring them in
the face, and their wicked-looking

friend on the front seat. The three

of them must be nuts!” He drove on
and thought no more about it.
* * *

TATE Trooper Richard C. Voight
brought his patrol car to a sud-

“den stop on the icy, snow-swept

highway. In the glare of his power-
ful headlights was a sedan, nosed
into the ditch at a crazy angle.

‘Quickly the policeman left his car ©

and strode toward the ditch, his
boots crunching in the hard-packed
snow. Even at a distance he could
make out the figure of a man,
slumped over the steering wheel.

The officer snapped on his flash-
light, and shuddered at the sight of
the gruesome figure that lay in the
car. The right side of the driver’s
face was caked with clotted blood,
his features hardly noticeable.

f Ea
Gea

mA

. Voight’s trained eye spotted the

source of the blood at once—three

‘small holes were bored an equal

distance from one another in the
temple.

The officer shook his head grimly.
“Poor devil—didn’t have a chance,”
he muttered under his breath. Play-
ing his flashlight around the interior
of the car, Voight finally brought it
to rest on a registration card
‘strapped to the wheel post. “J oseph
Carlucci, contractor, Syracuse, N.
Y.,” -he read. °

The description on the card fitted
the dead man perfectly. He was in-
deed dark of complexion, short and
stocky of build, and his grey-
streaked hair. confirmed his age,
given as 49 years.

But Voight did not waste any time
examining the corpse that sat so
stiffly and grotesquely in the gray
moonlight. Ominous clouds were
gathering in the night sky and more
snow was on the way. He would
have to work fast before the new
fall might erase whatever clues the
killer had left behind.

Rapidly, Voight followed back
along the tire tracks made by the

driverless car. They led from one:

side of. the highway to the other in
what had obviously been a careen-
ing course. At one point, near the
opposite bank, deep footprints began
out of nowhere. Apparently Carluc-
ci’s murderer had leapt from the car
when. it lurched forward, out of
control.

‘Swiftly, the officer followed the
snowy footprints up the bank and
into the Orville cemetery. They
seemed to be headed toward Dewitt,
a nearby suburb of Syracuse. The
tracks wound, snake-like, in and out
of the cemetery and then dropped
down again to the road. There they
mingled with the tire marks made
by the hundreds’ of cars which had
traveled the highway, and. disap-
peared. .

Seeing that he could no longer
follow the trail of the killer, Voight

by Gordon
Mac D«

Photo illustrations for this stor
posed for CRIME YEAR BOC
Globe and Gregg Stevens.

HER LIPS were

with promises of la:
and love. But her
were cold. And if
could read the:
he would see othe
things, like vio-

lence, and death!
(Specially posed)

CRIME YEAR BOOK

e spotted the
at once—three
ored an equal
another in the

iis head grimly.
have a chance,”
tis breath. Play-
vund the interior
nally brought it
istration card
2el post. “Joseph
-, Syracuse, N.

yn the card fitted
sctly. He was in-
lexion, short and

and his grey-
ifirmed his age,

ot waste any time

rpse that sat so

juely in the gray

ous clouds were

ight sky and more

» way. He would

+t before the new

yhatever clues the

ehind. 7

t followed back

acks made by the

hey led from one ™
ray to the other in
sly been a careen-

ne point, near the -
ep footprints began

Apparently Carluc~
i leapt from the car
j forward, out of

sficer followed the
s up the bank and
e cemetery. They
aded toward Dewitt,
b of Syracuse. The
iake-like, in and out
, and then dropped
the road. There they
he tire marks made
s'of cars which had
ighway, and disap-

he could no longer
of the killer, Voight

by Gordon

Mac Dougall

and love. But her eyes
were cold. And if one
could read them,
he would see other
things, like vio-
lence, and death!
(Specially posed)

CRIME YEAR BOOK

Roto illustrations for this story were especial
wsed for CRIME YEAR BOOK b Oftar of
blobe and Gregg Stevens. J —t

HER LIPS were warm —

with promises of laughter

4
6 al il saa

THE CLUE OF THE POW-
DER-BURNT BANDAGE
LED TWO RELENTLESS
BLOODHOUNDS OF THE
LAW ON A YEARS-LONG
CHASE . .. BUT THEY

“FINALLY CAUGHT. THEIR

MURDERERS AND SENT
THEM TO THEIR DOOM

. .. WITH THE HELP OF A.

BEAUTIFUL TRAITOR!


| to headquar-
2 country side,
ze were comb-
iracters in the

after quickly
to the murder -

e result of a
d his two dep-
ard L. Mosher.
scking the bars
ded and drove
Elm Lodge, a
cemetery.

isy spot. Stray
the biting cold,
re-looking bar.
ver coffee and
tables.

the dozen-odd
tted with the

juiet here,’’ the
in answer to a

ppen tonight —

itched his grey
< of it, a guy did
t an hour ago,
<. He didn’t say
nt right to the
minute later he
ont door again.
.eone was chas-

e brightened.
d he go?”

tanding near the
¢ sign, thumbing

eputies moved
the door. Their
picked out foot-
at led from the
ed sign up the
t the prints end-
aptly beside the

snow-covered payement,. The hitch-
hiker had obviously been successful
in getting a lift.

- Wasting no time, the officers re-
turned to the roadhouse. Quickly,
they examined trash baskets, gar-
bage cans and dark corners where
cast-off clothing or discarded wea-
pons might have been thrown; they
scrutinized the floors for blood-stains.
Then they headed for the wash-
room, a stuffy, dark cubicle at the
rear of the tavern.

Piano went through a tall refuse
can that stood. between the two
sinks, It was filled to the brim with
soiled laundry.

“Towels” Piano mumbled to him-
self, “match boxes, an empty cigar-
ette box, and .. . Say, look at this!”
- Mosher walked over quickly. In
Piano’s hand was a stiff board cov-'
ered with frayed, unwound layers
of hospital gauze.

“Looks like a bandage splint. to
me,” Piano said. “The kind that’s
used for a broken arm.”

- se fi Aa a ie

x
ate |

THE DETECTIVE called: a
distant Pe and gave the
Chief of Police a.name. "Keep
an eye on him," he said.

et Ff SS
a baa es tte Ce eed
~ fg
Ps ae ROTO NR a

we (Specially posed)

AFTER a few
days in jail, vied
young wife.
vided she'd had
Diy She'd tell

verything.

(Specially posed)

Mosher examined the
splint carefully. and sep-:
arated the’ gauze from
the board. He reflected
for a moment, then said
dryly: “My guess is that
there was more than an
arm inside that bandage.”

“What do you mean?”

“See this?”

Piano moved closer
and noticed that the
gauze had been punc-
tured at one end. He
looked sharply at his
colleague. “That. could
be a bullet hole — the
smudge around it looks
like a powder burn!”

“T’d say it was,” Mo-
sher agreed. “The man
who wore this splint
carried a gun hidden in
the bandage — and fired
through it!”

‘The deputies returned
to the main room of'the tavern and
proceeded to question the customers.
Moher recorded the names of these
people} for ali of Elm Lodge’s patrons
were possible witnesses, although
few were able to give any helpful
information.

Four nien, all strangers to each
other, agreed in their description of
the man ;who had darted into the
washroom and left so abruptly. .He
was “fairiy tall, well-built, swarthy
and dark-haired.” No one seemed
to recall what his features -were
like, whether he had a distinguish-

37

7% ¥e%

ie FEN. ; * Sg
THE WIFE planned, and hoped. |".
| "If only we could get rid of my hus- 7»
i band,” she thought. (Specially posed’ \ >

A

u

eee

5 . Shy ~ ‘ihe

sped to the nearest phone and reported to headquar-
ters. Alarms were flashed to the whole country side,
and soon local, county and state police were comb-
ing the ‘highways for suspicious characters in the

vicinity. :

* * * .

HE Onondaga county sheriff, after quickly
TT notifying the coroner, hurried to the murder -
scene. a
“This shooting might be the result of a
drunken brawl,” the sheriff told his two dep- -
uties, Michael Piano and Howard L. Mosher.
“Why don’t you two start checking the bars MOSHE

oh around ‘here?” The pair nodded and drove \

$4464 off. Their first stop was at Elm Lodge, a sensely:

if 444 roadhouse not far from the cemetery. presse

spbbe’ Elm Lodge was not a busy spot. Stray bering

4048 travelers, trying to escape the biting cold, been
lounged near the long, bare-looking bar.

;

Others bent .hungrily over coffee and
sandwiches at the tiny tables.

While Piano studied the dozen-odd.
customers, Mosher chatted with the
bartender.

“Everything’s been quiet here,” the
man told the deputy in answer to a

query. .
“Nothing unusual happen tonight —
no new faces?”

The bartender scratched his grey
head. “Come to think of it, a guy did
come in here about an hour ago,
maybe eight o’clock. He didn’t say 2
anything, just went right to the ;
washroom. Then a'‘minute later he
beat it out the front door again.
Seemed like someone was chas-
ing him.” :
5 eg ‘, ie nee es 5 : Mosher’s face brightened.
THREE MEN WERETHE |. 0) 2 : ee te tact . mn

, . me 4 * : : op Me siete AG lo standing ne e
PAWNS OFA BEAUTI- ti; ; PBS i . Be Micceey a ‘light over our sign, thumbing

a ride.”

FUL _ WOMAN'S PAS- . fat a teeth i ote .
SIONATE (WILL coc co Meee oe eerie eee oe AT eet the. door. Tha
AND ALL THREE DIED fe 8" ae SeeemnaaaeA sharp eyes picked out foot-
TO SMOOTH THE ete SO at a aan asiag ia Rg ae Ane that led from the

ed a BEE ARG BUG Re eae Bet Dy Bre Ma eee illuminated sig th
WAY FOR HER GUIL- Qik He PP NG Me gee ee Seek arta § Toad. But the aetata ons:
TY HAPPINESS. WT MA ee a COL, ded A ede Lm Near RB aa et ed abruptly beside the

95 NORTHEASTERN 1136
GEBHARDT, Frederick, 39-year-old white man, electrocuted Sing Sing Prison (Suffolk
County) on June 12, 1911,

"New York, Oct. 25, 1909=-Otto Mueller, who, under the name of Fred Gebhardt, was arrested
at Astoria, L. I., on Sunday night for the murder of Annie Luther, whose skeleton was
found a week ago last Sunday in the woods near Islip, L, I., today confessed that he

shot Annie Luther in the woods near Bay Shore, on April 9, 1908,

"tT told Annie Luther,' confessed Mueller, ‘out at Bay Shore that I was married and had

a wife and two children, and that I mst leave her and go back to my wife. I had taken
her down to Bay Shore to show her some property, She screamed and ran after me, She
KXXWRAXMAXAWAXAUAXXX kissed me and pulled me back, I shot her then, I did not look at
her after that, and I don't remember whether I shot her more than once, I left her in
the woods after I shot her, and I went over to the Islip station and came home, I threw
the revolver out of the car window on the way home,'

"For just a little more than a year and a half from the Sunday that Mueller shot Annie
Luther, he and his wife, Annie Merger, and their XdM&x@K two children, Annie, 3 years old
and Fred, who is about a year old, have lived in the story and a half frame house in As-«
toria. Nothing seemed to bother Mueller - or Gebhardt, as his wife knew him - exfept |
that he seemed to be 'money mad,'

"One night, about the time Annie Luther was murdered by Mueller, he did seem bothered,

He came home to Astoria from his work that night at the piano factory and called excite
edly for his wife, who was upstairs,

"' We must change our name to White,' he said; ‘and we must go away. The police are
looking for me,’

"His wife asked him what he had done but he would not go into details, After a night's
sleep, he seemed to have got his nerve back and little was heard after that about chang-
ing themae or about going awaye

"Mueller has KAKKXHS#EXTKAXAMKARK AXES XKARK XHRARXANMXAXWAREYAXKARKAK not been worried for
the past year and a half, not at least, until Tuesday night. Then on his homeecoming <«
it was the day that the story of finding Annie's skeleton was published - Mueller sat
around moodily,

"On Friday last he shaved his mustache and announced to his wife that they had better
pack up and move to Monticello, N, Y, He wanted to be alone, he said, people were bo-
thering him,
"after the confession he sank back to the chair weakly,

"He was brought to the police department and charged with homicide, MASAXKHAMEXMAAT ELK HL
Magistrate Donley promptly turned him over to the Suffolk county authorities,

"Coroner Savage, Detective Forman, and two other Brooklyn headquarters men took Mueller
to Islip. A big crowd mt the train at the Islip station and the local business men even
closed their stores to be on hand to seethe prisoner arrive,

"There will be an inquest on the murder tomorrow."

TENNESSEAN, N ashville, Tenney Octe 26, 1909 (1=3,)

1de watch

of paper
ctive Bill

the case.

bleached
‘ss and a
iad been
skeleton

the skull
a blonde
vould be.
and not
ere’s no

‘en used
e

y joined
‘covered
vere at-
<amined

ral,” he
e¢urred
im was
kely, I
irs, but

terrain
he vic-
| made,
labels.

Havens
paper,

o bea
eS Was
it out,
2 close,

A. The
ved the

caves a
was a
lis pin
S coat.
», after
ped at
ith; or

> have

or jolt

page)

leath

k

“es

Sie

the back lid, he found the irregular let-
ters “A. L.” scratched inside.

’ The constable. pondered. “If only we
could tie up these two clues, ‘A.L.’ and,
‘Otto Schomm—Altona,’” he said, “we
might have a good lead.”

Dr. Savage smiled mpl oe “That can be
done. Those letters on the watch lid look
like German script and Schomm is a Teu-:
tonic name. Wouldn't it follow that the
victim probably was a girl of German
birth or descent?”

“Quite probable,” Havens agreed. “But
there may be more clues in the one place
we haven’t covered—underneath the bones.
Let’s have a look.”

Bullet Makes It Murder

ebagie' 4 the officers lifted the two por-.
tions of the female skeleton, piece by
piece, and deposited them several yards
away. Then, examining closely the spot
where the upper part of the skeleton had
lain, Constable Havens found, partly im-
bedded in the ground, a flattened, soft-
nosed bullet! F ;

The officers agreed that the slug, which
appeared to be of .32-caliber, must have
been the cause of death. But the skull
showed. no bullet holes, so they concluded
that the missile must have struck a vital
spot by entering the abdomen or the
chest between the ribs. If that were the.
case, they reasoned, it could have re-
mained in the body until decomposition set
in when, with no flesh to retain it, the
slug would fall through to the ground.

“This seems to be murder,” Dr. Savage
said gravely. “We must get back to town
immediately and notify the district at-
terney!” ; vs

Returning to his office in Islip, the cor-
oner telephoned District Attorney George
H. Furman in the Suffolk County seat at
Riverhead, 35 miles eastward, and reported
briefly what he and Constable Havens had
fo Then, ordering his deputy, Charles
S. Daily, to return to the scene and bring
the skeleton to the morgue for an autopsy,
Dr. Savage set out with Havens for
Riverhead. :

Furman was waiting for them in his
office when they arrived and eagerly drew
from the officers additional details of the
case

“From what you tell me, the victim
undoubtedly was murdered,” he declared.
“The German lead looks good, too, with
the watch, the bill of sale and the foreign
clothes all pointing to it. We ought to put
the New York police to work on that
right away.”

The district attorney placed a call to
Brooklyn, the nearest New York City
divisional police headquarters, and asked
for Detective Captain John D. Coughlin,
a personal friend, Coughlin assigned his
best investigator, Detective William Roddy,

- to handle the case.

At 7:30 the following morning Detective
Roddy stepped off a Long Island Railroad
train at the Riverhead station. He was tall
and husky, and wore a small black
mustache.

When Roddy walked into the district
attorney’s office, Furman was waiting for
him with Constable Havens and Dr. Sav-
age. The prosecutor had spread out on his
desk the clues—the faded sales slip, the
woman’s watch and the fragments of
cloth from the dress and the coat, and he
related the known facts in the case to the
New York detective.

Roddy chewed an enormous black cigar
as he examined the clues. Then, with a
grunt, he spoke for the first. time. “Your
conclusions on the German connection are

robably correct,” he acknowledged, “but
or a different reason. . .”
; (Continued on page 10)

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On February 29th, 1908, I sold to Fraulein
Anna Luther of Weida a blanket, tea tray,
plate, corkscrew, platter and breadbasket,

Roddy, knowing he was on the right
trail, cabled back, asking if Herr Schom-
mer knew what had become of Fraulein
Luther. ¢

In a few days the answer came:

Adolf Wuerl, living in the Koenigstrasse,
Altona, Uncle, says Anna Luther married
Otto Mueller, and March, 1908, sailed to
United States to Henry Werpupp, 199 South
Sixth Street, Brooklyn,

The address proved false but the publi-
cation of the name “Anna Luther” in the
newspapers brought immediate results.
The telephone jingled in Brooklyn Police
Headquarters the afternoon of October
23rd and a voice asked for Detective
Roddy.

It was the police of Newark, calling.

@ “WE HAVE a fellow over here named

Schweikert who says he knows the
Anna Luther in that murder -mystery
you’re handling. Can you come over and
see him?”

Roddy started immediately for Newark
and with a Newark detective went right
to the home of Gottlieb Schweikert.

“That’s Anna Luther, all right,” said
Schweikert. “I recognized the jewelry
pictured in the newspapers. The last I
heard from her or Mueller was a letter
Henry Werpupp got from Mueller last,
year saying his wife was very ill and that
they were going to Florida.”

“Stop right there,” said Roddy, holding
up his hand. “Did I understand you to
say ‘Henry Werpupp’?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Take me to him, if you can,” said
Roddy. “I think that is where we'll find
some real facts about Anna Luther.”

The .Werpupps, learning for the first
time of the discovery of the body, shocked
as they were, showed eagerness to aid.

After a search in a bureau drawer
Werpupp produced Mueller’s letter.

“Tl take this,” said Roddy, grimly, as
he saw the postmark “Astoria, Long
Island,” on the envelope. “I think it will
help me. Now, one other thing. Have you
a picture of Mueller?”

“Yes, we have,” said Mrs. Werpupp. “We
took it one day when he was with us at
Coney Island before he was married. We
used to go down there quite often.”

She preduced it, a sharp likeness of
“Mueller,” with his heavy black mustache.

Roddy and Murray, assisted by local
detectives, combed Astoria, L. I. but
neither the post office authorities nor the
local police had ever heard of “Otto
Mueller.”

Roddy, learning from the police of Al-
tona that ‘the Muellers had sailed for New
York in March of 1908 on the President
Lincoln, went to the office of the steamship
company, searched the passenger list and

_obtained a description of their baggage.

“Six trunks and two German police
dogs.” ’

Roddy’s deep eyes sparkled with ex-
ultation.

He hunted up the expressman, who
turned out to be an Italian.

“Sure, Boss, I remember that guy. He
had the two beega dogs. And many
trunks. I look up my records.”

The records showed that the trunks
were delivered to “Mrs. Frederick Geb-
hardt at 357 Woolsey Avenue, Astoria,”

In the meantime Gebhardt had been
watching, confident of his security, at the.
police investigation. But he had a queer
feeling when he read in a morning news-
paper of Saturday, October 23rd:

“The authorities at Islip today con-
sidered it strange that if Otto Mueller,

Arun, 1942

the husband of the slain woman, was
alive, he did not come forward and
offer to help the police find the murderer
of his wife.”

Then followed an excellent description
of himself, featuring the black mustache,

Gebhardt, losing no time, went upstairs
to his room and shaved it.

“Why, Frederick, what have you done?”
asked his wife when he came downstairs,

“A man told me it was a soup strainer,”
was his quick reply. “He won’t be able
to say that any more,”

“But it was so handsome!” she said, rue-
fully. “I hope you grow it again, some-
time.”

Gebhardt forgot that he couldn’t shave
off the mustache on a photograph!

And that very afternoon a heavy-set
man with square-toed shoes called at Geb-
hardt’s home while he was away,

“I’m from the Board of Elections,” he
said, brusquely. “There’s some mixup over
the names in this house. They say there’s
a party named Otto Mueller living here.
Is that true?”

Mrs. Gebhardt shook her head.

“No, just me and my husband, Frederick
Gebhardt, live here with our two
children.”

The caller hesitated, as if to go, and
then,’as if on an afterthought, he asked,
“Have you a picture of your husband?”

“Yes, sure, in the family album. Wait
here. I’ll get it!”

She went into the parlor and returned
in a moment with the album. As she laid
it on the seat of the hall rack for Roddy
to see, her little boy, the apple of his
father’s eye, toddled up. As his mother
opened the album, the little fellow pointed
to Gebhardt’s photograph and exclaimed,
“See!” He smiled proudly into the face of
the detective. “That's my daddy!”

Roddy looked.

Gebhardt was Mueller!

M@ “YOU OWN a couple of nice police
dogs, don’t you, Mrs. Gebhardt?”
“Yes, do you like them? My man

brought them with him from Germany a

year ago last April.”

Roddy raised his hat and left.

At his request Plainclothesmen were
stationed immediately at each end of the
block with orders to phone the precinct
house the moment Gebharat returned.

But Gebhardt remained out all night,
wrestling with his conscience. He felt
insecure, he was worried. He knew, now,
that if he met one of the Newark crowd
he was finished. ;

He got a room in the “Y” in Brooklyn
and did not return home until the follow-
ing afternoon, Sunday, October the 24th.

“Did anyone come to see me while I
was away?” he asked.

“No one but a fellow from the Board
of Elections who wanted to see your pic-
ture,” his wife said.

“What for?” he shouted, his face pale
with anger. '

“He said he was looking for a fellow
supposed to live here by the name of Otto
Mueller,” said his wife.

Gebhardt reeled and sat down’ weakly
in a chair.

“And you showed him my picture? With
the mustache?”

“Sure. Was there any harm in that?”

Gebhardt did not reply. His chin
dropped against his chest, his mouth was
agape, his eyes had in them a vacant stare.

“Oh, dear, you are sick!” exclaimed
Mrs. Gebhardt, on her knees at once,
quick to administer comfort to her be-
loved Frederick.

He placed his hand on her head.

“Yes,” he said, “sick unto death,”

Gebhardt finally rose and looked out the
window. Two men were stationed across
the street. He went to the rear. Two men

were there, also, in the lot!

He would wait until nightfall and try.
to escape! :

He locked and chained the front door
and locked the back door. Then, to satisfy
his wife, he made a show at eating supper.
For the first time, even her cooking could
not tempt his appetite!

As he pushed his chair back from the
table, a knock sounded, As his wife went
to answer it he hurried into the cellar and
crawled through a window opening under
the front porch,

As the door opened he heard running
feet in the hall upstairs and his wife’s
screams! Three men with drawn revolvers
had dashed in and were searching every
room.

“What does this mean?” he heard his
wife demand.

“We want your’ husband, Frederick
Gebhardt, and we know he’s home,” a
voice said. :

“He went out the back way an hour
ago,” said his wife,

The officers searched the house and the
cellar and for some strange reason failed
to notice the window opening under the
porch. Then they started to-leave the
house. As they left, one of them stumbled
and grasped Detective Roddy by the arm.
A photographer of the World, his camera
set to get a flash of the killer, one of ten
newspapermen who had been tipped off
to be in at. the arrest, thought that Roddy
was the suspect. He set off his flash gun.

And in its glare a sharp-eyed reporter
noticed Gebhardt peeking out through the
lattice work, under the porch, eyes agleam
in the bright flash.

“There he is!” called the reporter,
pointing.

And so it was that’ Gebhardt, alias
Mueller, came forth out of his hiding place
under the menace of pointed revolvers.

And while his wife screamed and his
children wept, they bore him away, the
gyves upon his wrists even as they were
upon the wrists of Eugene Aram in the
poem of long ago!

But he wasn’t completely undone yet.

In the line-up the police had a start
when the Werpupps failed to identify him
because of his shaven lip. But Schweikert
had no trouble in Placing the finger on
him.

“How are you, Otto?” he said.

Gebhardt looked at him. He did not try
to bluff his identity. *

“So, it was you, after all!” was all he
said.

M HE WAS rushed to Brooklyn Police

Headquarters on State Street.

There Inspector McCafferty grilled
him, along with Acting Captain Coughlin
and Detectives Roddy, Hennessy and
Murray. Bigamy? He admitted that. She
was a pretty woman. Who could blame
him? But why, after she ran from him
and someone murdered her, should he be
blamed? ‘

He stood the grilling all Sunday night
without breaking.

Then Roddy tried his hand.

He placed him in the room upstairs, the
room utterly vacant except for a chair in
the center and a single bright light shining
over it.

The paper on the wall was peeling, be-
cause the room was so old; the ceiling was
cracked and the floor boards warped.

“When you feel like telling the truth,
knock on the door,” said Roddy, leaving
the room.

There was a window on each side of the
room. What Gebhardt did not notice was
the fact that the lower ‘pane of each win-
dow had been removed so that a slow but
strong draught passed between.

As Gebhardt sat there, a rustling be-
gan, a faint, almost inaudible sound, as if

83


GEBHARDT, Frederick, white, elec. NY (suffolk Co. )6/12/1911

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me

alee: Sy nd q
Pete. * 2 sf

room doomed bride

BY BARTON

stared in surprise and fear at the
human skeleton among the leaves, its
whitened skull grinning up at the sky.

“It’s a bogeyman, daddy!” shriiled the
little boy.

“No, son,” the father replied, sweeping
up the trembling lad in his arms. “But
it’s pretty bad. I'll call the police.”

A gray haze obscured the setting sun [ez aie
as the woodcutter hurried through the § 3
autumn-tinged forest near Islip, Long - :

Island, ‘N. Y., and deposited his son safely A foreign made watch
at home. Then he hastened to Islip and and a slip of paper
returned to the scene later that October helped Detective Bill
day with a party of officers, headed by Roddy crack the case.
Town Constable Nicoll D. Havens and

Coroner W. B. Savage. :

Coroner Savage knelt to examine the remains. The bleached
bones were bare of flesh, but fragments of a black dress and a
black coat still adhered to them. Around the neck had been
tied a man’s black silk muffler: The lower part of the skeleton
was missing. 7

Dr. Savage studied the few wisps of hair clinging to the skull
and noted the perfect teeth. “I’d judge this woman was a blonde
about 25 years old,” he said at length. “My estimate would be
that the body has lain here not less than six months and not
more than a year. But as to the manner of death,:there’s no
clue other than the man’s muffler, which may have been used
to strangle her.” : °

Havens shouted to the coroner and the others and they joined
him a few yards off in the woods. The constable had discovered
the rest of the skeleton—the leg bones, to which still were at-
tached the remains of black leather pumps. Dr. Savage examined
them carefully.

“One of these bones has been chewed by some animal,” he
concluded, “but it’s impossible to say whether that oc¢urred
before or after death. There’s a possibility the victim was
attacked and killed by. the animal, although it’s unlikely. I
haven’t known of a bear or a-wolf in these parts for years, but
a big dog might have done it.” ;

The officers turned their attention to the surrounding terrain
in a search for possible clues. The tattered remains of the vic-
tim’s clothing appeared to be of good material and well made,
probably of foreign style and workmanship. It bore no labels.

Noting that one of the woman’s pockets still was intact, Havens
delved into it and withdrew a small slip of yellowed paper,
which he held up to study.

All writing on the slip had faded, but it appeared to be a
sales check of some sort. Above the faintly ruled lines was
printed the name of a merchant. Havens could not make it out,
but the coroner, adjusting his glasses and holding the slip close,
spelled out the name and address: Orro Scnomm, ALTONA. The
rest was indistinguishable.

- Havens pocketed the paper and, with Dr. Savage, renewed the
search. Soon they made a second discovery. Under the leaves a
short distance from the upper portion of the skeleton was a
small gold watch, attached to a blue enamel fleur-de-lis pin
by which it apparently had been fastened to the victim’s coat.

The constable snapped open the lid and studied the face, after
which he gave the stem a few turns. “The' hands stopped at
3:15,” he pointed out. “That could be the time of death, or
the watch could have gone on running. It doesn’t seem to have
run down completely.”

“In that case,” suggested Dr. Savage, “a sudden shock or jolt
Police were told that this probably stopped it.”
man had had nine wives,.of Havens nodded. Then, snapping open (Continued on next page)
whom eight died before he
went to the electric chair.

BLACK Te WOODCUTTER and his son

= *-—,

Anna placed her trust in marriage bonds, which drew her to her death

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someone, or something, was shivering.
Sometimes such a sound is heard in the
woods, in the fall, when wind spins a dry
leaf upon the end of a tall reed.

That was all, not another sound, only
that rustling.

The light was so bright flooding down
upon him ‘from under the conical shade
that he could not see that the paper on
the wall hung in strips and that the sound
he heard was the passing draught moving
these wall peelings.

He just knew that he was alone—
utterly alone, fighting alone against the
police and his conscience—with that
swishing sound. ,

What was it?

™ FIFTEEN MINUTES passed, a _ half
hour, an hour.

The noise kept up. He feared to leave
the chair to investigate lest he fall into
a trap of some kind. He had read of such
things. Outside morning was brightening
the city but he was still in the night, in
this room, with his mind in a fog.

Two hours passed.

Still not a sound.

Did that sound really exist or was it
just in his conscience?

Suddenly he recalled a similar sound,
the rattling of the draft Herr Luther had
given him for the dowry, the check which
had written across it in invisible ink the
death warrant of Herr Luther’s daughter.

That’s what it was.

It was the same old conscience, which
drove him back to the woods again and
again, now at work fixing in his mind the
point where the murder plan was first
hatched. ;

But why hadn’t that conscience, which
dwelt “downstairs” in his mind, and which
only walked “upstairs” into the conscious
mind while he slept, guided him to where
the body was so that he could have buried
it and saved all this?

Buried it?”

Eugene Aram tried to do that and the
wind in the forest blew away the leaves.
And he, Gebhardt, had even tried with
fire to destroy her and even that had
failed.

What was the use of it all?

He’d get twenty years for this bigamy
matter and then he’d be ready to die any-
way. After all, maybe he could make a
bargain for his life——

He rose and pounded on the door and
called Roddy’s name.

The door opened, the entire room lit up
from wall lights, a man walked past him
with a little table which had a green top
and looked like'a bridge table.

“I want to talk to Coroner Savage,”
Gebhardt said.

All but Savage left the room, all but
Gebhardt and the police stenographer.

After he had retold his story, in the
presence of Roddy, Murray and the Cor-
oner, Gebhardt signed his confession.

Later he spoke freely with Roddy, told

Hitler—The World’s Worst

(Continued from page 53) carry away...-

German officers and soldiers engage in
orgies of plunder in all captured Soviet
districts. The German authorities have
legalized looting by their army and en-
courage pillage and violence. The Ger-
man Government regards this as a reali-

‘zation of the bandit “principle” it once

enunciated, according to which every
German warrior must have a “personal,
material interest in the war.”

Thus, secret instructions dated July 17,
1941, addressed to the commanders of all
propaganda companies of the German
Army and found by Red Army troops
when they routed the 68th German In-
fantry Division, directly order: “Foster in
every officer and ‘soldier of the German
Army the consciousness of personal, ma-
terial interest in the war.”

Such orders, pushing the army to mass
pillage and murder of the peaceful popu-
lation, are issued also in the armies allied
with the Germans. Thus, Order No. 24,220,
issued by the Chief of Staff of the 14th
Rumanian’ Division, Colonel Nikolaescu,
states: “Grain, large and small horned
animals, and poultry should be confiscated
from the population for the use of the

army. Thorough searches should be car-

ried out in every house, and everything
must be taken away without leaving any-
thing. In case of the slightest resistance,
the people are to be shot on the spot and
the house burned.” ...

The German Army is more and more
turning into an army of predatory robbers
and marauders, who devastate and ran-
sack the flourishing towns and villages of
the Soviet Union, and pillage and destroy
the property ‘and all the belongings ac-
cumulated by the working population of
our villages and towns. The facts testify
to the utter moral degradation and corrup-
tion of Hitler’s army. ...

Wherever the German bayonet begins
its rule; it institutes an unbearable regime
of bloody terrorism, excruciating tortures
and brutal murders.. The pillaging in
which German officers and soldiers every-

84

where engage is accompanied by beatings
and murders of a tremendous number of
absolutely innocent people. For failure
to comply with a demand to surrender all
food down to the last grain or to surrender
all clothing down to the last shirt, the
occupants torture and hang old and young,
women and children. During forced labor,
they beat and shoot people who fail to
accomplish the work quotas which the
Germans have established... .

Reports of abominable outrages com-
mitted against women and girls, school-
girls and children during the days of the
occupation arrive daily from villages and
towns recently liberated from the German
invaders, in particular from various dis-
tricts of the Moscow, Leningrad, Kalinin,
Tula, Orel, Kursk, Voroshilovgrad, Stalino
and Rostov Regions. In many cases the
ravishers also murdered their victims. ...

In the village of Yaskino, the Smolensk
Region, the Hitlerites shot old men and
adolescents and burned the houses to the
ground. In the village of Pochinok, in the
same region, the Germans herded all old
men, women and children into the house
of the collective farm board, locked the
door, and burned them all. In_ the
Ukrainian village of Emelchino, in the
Zhitomir Region, the Germans locked 68
persons in a small house and boarded up
the windows. As a result, all of them
suffocated. ...

A horrible massacre and pogrom were
perpetrated by the German invaders in
the Ukranian capital, Kiev. Within a few
days the German bandits killed and tor-
tured to death 52,000 men, women, old
folk and children, dealing mercilessly with
all Ukrainians, Russians and Jews who in
any way displayed their fidelity to the
Soviet Government. Soviet citizens who
escaped from Kiev give an agonizing ac-
count of one of these mass executions....

Many mass murders were also com-
mitted by the German occupants in other
Ukrainian towns. . . . According to in-
complete figures, no less than 6,000 per-
sons were shot in Lvov, over 8,000 in

.

him of his every move and of his strange
recurring dream.

Roddy later told it all to me.

I visited Raymond Street jail and talked
at length with Gebhardt before they took
him away to Riverhead, Long Island, to
await trial.

“T am happy now,” he said to me. “That
dream! It is gone, forever. I am sorry,
yes. But I feei that I did it just because
I found out too late that a man’s love and
affections all belong to his family.”

It was a full year before they placed
Gebhardt on trial.

And it was also in the month of October,
the year 1910.

He had met Anna Luther in October,
1907; her body had been found in October,
1909; he was found guilty of the murder
October 21st, 1910, before a jury in the
courtroom of Justice Joseph Aspinall at
Riverhead, Long Island.

He was electrocuted June 12th, 1911, at
Sing Sing Prison, New York.

m “WHO WILL take care of my dogs
now?” he asked the Warden, when
summoned for the last walk.

His loyal wife claimed the body and
gave it decent burial.

And, lest we forget, the pocket which
contained the bill of sale from Herr
Schommer just happened to be protected
from the elements and the fire Gebhardt
started by the body of the woman he
murdered!

Criminal

Odessa, over 8,500 killed or hanged in
Kamenets-Podolsk, over 10,500 persons
shot down with machineguns in Dniepro-
petrovsk, and over 3,000 local residents
shot in Mariupol, including many old men,
women and children, all of whom were
robbed and stripped naked before execu-
tion. According to preliminary figures,
about 7,000 persons were killed by the
German fascist bandits in Kerch....
Informing all governments with which
the U.S.S.R. maintains diplomatic rela-
tions of all these brutalities perpetrated
by the German invaders, the Soviet Gov-
ernment declares that it places the whole
responsibility for these inhuman, bandit
actions of the German troops upon the
criminal Hitlerite Government of Ger-
many. At the same time, the Government
of the U.S. S. R. declares with unshakable
confidence that the struggle of the Soviet
nation for liberation is a struggle not only
for the rights and liberty of the peoples
of the Soviet Union, but for the rights and
liberty of all freedom-loving peoples of
the world, and that this war can end only
in utter defeat of Hitler’s troops and com-
plete victory over Hitlerite tyranny.
Signed: Molotov
Moscow, January 6, 1942

@ THROUGHOUT MOLOTOV’S doc-
ument, of which the above is but a
small part, he gives specific facts, places
and dates, but a considerable part of it
is not printable for general distribution
due to the shocking details covering the
tortures and cruelties perpetrated.

Yet it should surprise no one who is
acquainted with the principles set forth
in Hitler’s book “Mein Kampf.” This
plan for world conquest has been called
“Blueprint for Murder,” and with good
reason. .

Let all of us make up our minds that
its vile teachings will never gain even
so much as a toe-hold in our United
States of America.

TRUE DETBCTIVE


Three Bullet Wounds —So Close
They Could Be Covered With a
Quarter — Killed Joseph Carlucci.
But There Were No Powder
Burns. . Why? Who Killed Him?

‘red Brown saw a man fleeing the
aurder car! ~

“You’re certain he wore a dark over-
oat. with a gray hat?” I asked Mrs.
therwin as I took over the question-
1g.
“Absolutely sure,” she replied ex-
itedly. /

“That tallies with the description of
he man who went to Mostiff’s gas
tation, and asked what time the bus
n the Cherry Valley Road left for
Tew York.” .

“Yes, sir,” she answered. “He also
sked me about the bus to New York.
told him the bus would leave at mid-
ight.

“He was swarthy faced, about 160
ounds, and. perhaps five feet seven
aches tall. After asking about the
us, he ordered a hamburger and a
up of coffee. While I fixed it, he went
ato the washroom. When he came
ut, the food was ready,” she hesitated,
but then he did a funny thing.”
“What?” I asked quickly.

“He said he didn’t want to eat. Said
e felt sort of sick. He paid and left.”

T WAS now a few minutes after ten
o’clock. The bus for New York did
ot leave until midnight. Almost two
ours remained. Quickly, we sent a
ash over the State police teletype
ystem to be on the alert for a man

answering Mrs. Sherwin’s description

of the stranger.
IT turned then to Fred Brown who
had been nervously relating to the offi-

cers his experience on Thompson Road.

“Did the man you saw running into
Dewitt Cemetery answer, in a general
way, the description given by Mrs.
Sherwin?” I asked.

“I couldn’t say as to that,” he re-
plied after a moment. “I got only a
glimpse of him in front of the head-
lights and the snow was too thick for
me to see much.

“Ohly one thing sticks in my mind
about the whole affair. When the man
I saw jumped out of the moving
Buick, I’m sure he had something
white over his arm. It might have
been a bandage; it might have been
one of those white rubber raincoats;

When this ceme-
tery was deep in
snow, Joseph
Carlucci, right,
was found in a
car at A. The
murder gun was
tossed to spot B

or it might even have been a package
wrapped in white paper. But it looked
more like a bandage. I couldn’t be
positive.”

I decided now to visit the Carlucci

home in the hope of learning why ~-

Carlucci was out on a night like this.
Nodding to two aides to accompany
me, I got into a State police car, and
we hurried back to Syracuse. I
climbed the four snow-covered steps
to the front door of the large, three-
story, well-kept frame building on
Catherine Street. A moment after I
rang the bell a strikingly beautiful
brunet in a luxurious dressing robe
stood in the doorway.

tt A RE you... .?” I began, removing
’ my hat.

“l’m Angela Carlucci,” ‘she replied
sweetly, revealing a row of small,
white, even teeth. “My husband is not
at home, but I expect him shortly.”

I glanced at one of my aides. The

“ll tear the heart out of the man who killed
Joe!” cried Angela Carlucci, the dead man’s
widow whom police mistook for the dead

man’s daughter
} $

dead man we had found in Thompson
Road we had calculated to be not less
than fifty. Angela looked like his
daughter.

In the softly shaded living-room, we
told her as kindly as we could.

She didn’t utter a sound. She reeled
slightly and sank into_a chair. Tears
filled her enormous black eyes, and
after a while, she cried over and over,
“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”

“You want us to find the murderer,
don’t you, Mrs. Carlucci?” I asked
gently after her first grief-stricken
sobs had quieted.

“Yes—yes.” She nodded and then,
stiffening in her chair, she added pas-
sionately: “Whoever murdered my
oe ata I would like to tear his heart
out!”

“When did your husband leave the
house. Was anyone with him?” I
asked.

“He left at about twenty minutes to

(Continued on Page 44)

13


marksman in the world couldn’t do
that in a jolting car. The only ex-
planation was that it must have been
a contact shot. But how could it have
been a contact shot if no powder burns
showed? You recall that there wasn’t
the lightest trace of powder marks
when we examined the body?

“Well, boys, this is the answer!” I
held up the: piece of water-soaked
gauze.

“I get you, Chief,” one of my young
aides broke in excitedly. “That Gallo
guy made a contact shot. He put the
mouth of the. gun squarely against
Carlucci’s temple, knowing that with
the gun wrapped in his bandaged
iand, the surgical cotton would absorb
the powder burns.”

“Exactly,” I continued. “See that
iole at the end of the bandage? That’s
vhere the bullets were pumped out.
{nd those four little valleys in the
vandage are where the four knuckles
of Gallo’s hand fitted.

“Apparently, his thumb was left un-
vrapped, so that he could guide the
‘un and obtain leverage. Under the
jauze Gallo’s hand clutched the auto-
natic; all he did was casually lean
he ‘injured’ hand against Carlucci’s
‘ead, and let go. It was a clever job.
soys, we’re going to have trouble
cacking Mr. Gallo!” :

My prediction was too correct.

Days went by, with no trace of Tony
‘allo. The alarms sent out and close
urveillance of all New York busses
ad produced nothing. Apart from my
nd in the Elm Lodge washroom, the
eeing figure in the snowstorm might
3 well have been the figment of some-
ody’s fevered imagination.

The morning after the murder,
larch 16, 1933, Criminal Deputy
heriff Michael Piano took charge of
1e fatal gun for checking. .There was
0 difficulty in following up its his-
ry through its number until the year
327. At that time, it was used in a
ew York holdup, and later confis-
ited by the New York police: Ac-
wrding to the records, it should have
2en rusting at the bottom of the
tlantic Ocean somewhere in the vi-
nity of Sandy Hook, where all con-
aband guns are dumped by the New
ork City police. ;
Yet, here it was. Again it had dealt
rath, presumably at the bidding of
3 Tony Gallo, a man we couldn’t
1d.

Of course, I questioned Angela Car-
cci again several times, but the
sung widow was unable to give any
ther assistance.

“Your husband was in the real estate
isiness,” I said to her. “Where were
s buildings? Were there any part-
‘rs? How much money do you esti-
ate he made in a year?”

But to all of these queries, the beau-
‘ul Angela shrugged her shoulders.
iulian wives are not expected to know
uch about their husbands’ businesses,
e maintained. Their only duty was

obey without question, serve the
me faithfully. She did know, how-
er, that her husband had had five
ousand dollars in the bank at the
ne of their marriage six years be-
ce, when Carlucci was 43 and
igela_ sixteen. Her husband had
so taken out a two-thousand-dollar

e insurance policy around that pe-
od, she added.

fee answers were so frankly given
and she was so anxious to help
iardly knew how to place her in my
er-changing theories on the crime.
e admitted with equal candor that
2 and Carlucci had eloped the day
fore their marriage, and spent the
st night in a hotel without benefit of
semony. She confided further that
t mother was also her sister-in-law,
> Angela’s mother had long ago
uried Carlo Carlucci, Joseph’s older
ne after the death of the girl’s
cher.
[ interviewed Carlo Carlucci also
tlier in the day, and learned some-
ing from him which I hoped would
w provide me with a wedge to jar
ym the girl whatever information
e might be withholding.
“Come now, Mrs. Carlucci, don’t you

know your husband has a wife and
three children still living in Italy?” I
snapped at her unexpectedly, ‘Don’t
you suppose we know that you were
insanely jealous of this?’ You harbored
a grudge, didn’t you?”

Angela seemed startled. Her dark
eyes opened wide, but she answered
calmly enough:

“I knew, Mr. Martin, but that made
no difference. I loved Joseph and he
loved me. I don’t care what he did
before he met me.”

“Do you think Joseph’s other wife
in Italy might have had him killed in
revenge?”

Angela shook her head, an amused
smile of disbelief playing about her

ps.

“Tm sure that’s not so,” she said
positively. “Joseph had not heard
from his wife in many, many years.
She couldn’t possibly know where he
was in America.”

j HAD played my trump card on
Angela and lost. I dismissed Mrs.
Carlucci.

Several months went by. Months
when no important discoveries were
made, and our investigation seemed to
be at a standstill. But the Carlucci
case never left my mind. It haunted
me like a shadow. Almost daily I
mulled over the scant information
we had been able to gather, seek-
ing some small detail which might give
me a fresh method of attack. Finally,
in mid-November, I decided to call _in
Criminal Deputy Sheriff Michael Pi-
ano. :

“Mike, I’ve been doing a lot of
thinking about the Carlucci case late-
ly. There must be a motive, and it’s
up to us to find it. We ruled out rob-
bery from the start. We've spent the
whole Summer running around look-
ing for a guy by the name of Gallo,

“How do we know’ that his name is
really Gallo? Look, Mr. and Mrs. Fred
Brown told us there was another car
parked along the road, and that when
Brown went toward it, the driver sped
away as fast as he could. Who was
in that car?

“Mrs. Carlucci describes the’ man
who called for her husband as being
swarthy, wearing a dark coat and gray
hat. That’s the same _ description
Brown gave of the man who jumped
from the murder car. It’s also the
same general description Mrs. Sher-
win gave us that night at Elm Lodge.
All right, that’s one man.

“But who was in the other car—
who raced away when Brown ap-
proached?

“Mike, he may be the whole solu-
tion! Of course, he might have been
just some motorist. parked there for a
casual reason; maybe when he saw
the ‘accident,’ he didn’t want to be
called as a witness and hurried away
because of that. And yet, Mike, there’s
something in the back of my mind that
says he was the fiend behind the whole
thing! A man who sat hidden there,
waiting to see that the cold-blooded
murder he had planned was carried out
just as he had ordered it!

“We've definitely eliminated any
chance that Carlucci was mixed up
with rackets, so it couldn’t have been
a gang killing. What was it?”

“What are your plans, Mr. Martin?”
Piano asked.

“Well,” I answered, “I have a feel-
ing that Angela Carlucci hasn’t told
us everything she knows about. this
affair. I realize that we’ve grilled her
for more than 36 hours at a stretch,
and that we had to wind up by giving
her a clean slate. But, as I see it, she’s
our only chance to crack this case.
Piano, I want that motive! Go to it!”

Every night during the following
week Mike Piano sat in his parked
car at the corner of Catherine Street,
watching the Carlucci home.

On the second evening three cars
entered the driveway shared by Mrs.

- Carlucci and her next-door neighbor. .

He jotted down the numbers, andthe
next morning made a trip to the auto
license bureau. One of these, he
learned, was registered by Angela Ross,
maiden name of Mrs. Carlucci. She

had purchased it from one Alfred
Giallarenzi a few months previously.

Piano checked that small Chevro-
let. Every night it rolled into the
driveway and the driver, a tall, hand-
some, young Italian, rang the Carluc-
ci bell and was admitted.

One night late in the week, the car
appeared as usual and, a few moments
later, Angela Carlucci came out. Pi-
ano noted that she still wore deep
black, and was as beautiful as ever.

The young couple drove to a box-
ing show in Syracuse with Piano at a
discreet distance behind them. Seat-
ed directly back of them in the box-

ing auditorium, the detective’s eyes
brightened when he saw Angela take
her escort’s hand and say gently, “My
dear Alfred, please don’t be so stupid.”

Back to Catherine Street, Piano
tailed the couple after the boxing
matches. It was after midnight. They
entered the house and soon everything
was dark. The Chevrolet stood in the
driveway.

The next morning Piano rushed to
my office to report.

“Good work, Mike,” I told him, “but
I want you to check one thing.”

“What's that, sir?” he asked.

“Make absolutely certain if this Al-

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ae

OFFICIAL
DETECTIVE
STORIES

eptember |, 1937

Contents, This Issue

Third Degree That Works
By FRANK O’MALLry, Super-
intendent of Police, Grand
Rapids, Michigan .......... 2
ped by a Bulldog
[f This Man Didn’t Have a
Woman and She Didn’t Have
t Dog, He Would Probably Not
Be Waiting Trial in Kansas
lity
By Orto P. Hicerns, Director
of Police, Kansas City, Mis-
souri, and Corwin D. Horne 3
e Prowling—$1,000 a Week
‘ven the Watchdogs Never
leard This Thief in His Long
‘areer
By OrrictaL Detective Sro-
ries’ Roving Reporter...... 8
t the Killer with
Bandaged Arm!”
‘here Was No Reason for Kill-
9 a Beautiful Woman’s Hus-
and Unless.
By the Honorasie WILLIAM
C. Martin, District Attorney
of Onondaga County, New
York, and GertRuDE KLEIN.: 12
aing New. York’s 4
udulent Claims Racket... .
‘art Two of the Fabulous Ex-
loits of Racketeers. Who Con-
inced Repitable Doctors; Baf-
ed Post Office Detectives °—
By. V. K. Ersocxer, Special
Investigator for . OFFICIAL
DETECTIVE STORIES ......... 14
2r LaMare—
‘oit’s Terrorist King
e Thought He Was a Smart
perator, But He Made Some
‘upid Errors
By Larry Locspon, OFFicraL
DETECTIVE SrorIEs’ Roving
Investigator ....... POTN Swe 18
lan Who Was Killed Twice
wo Couples Made the Same
mfession, Demoralized Chi-
go Police -
By ForMeR CapTaIn JoHN
Martin, Chicago Police De-
partment, and- K. H. Sessions 21
ou Solve This?
sur Opportunity to Solve a
‘eacherous Mystery and Win
Cash Award.....cecccccseee 24
d Weir—
d Deficiency Slayer
e Opening Story in a New
ries on a Sensational Ap-
oach to Crime Prevention
d Detection
3y Ex-OPERATIVE 48........ 26
Crime Spotlight
test Crimes of Recent Weeks
1 the Police Activity on
CM cde tee Foe Sine bre see ct ae ae
ture Another Wanted Man
ce Again OFFICIAL DETEC-
E Stories Proves Its Value
Law Enforcing Agencies—
Capturing Los Angeles’
st Wanted Man............ 30
irch of Crime
mes in September from Five
One Hundred Years Ago
sy Et M. Hurst, Expert in
‘riminological Research ... 32
Be a Detective
sartment Store Operatives
ty Nick Harris, Celebrated
'rivate Detective of Los
Beles 5. Base ou. aoe 37

ua detective—municipal or pavatey 4°41

rman? Police Chief? Sheriff? Prose-
ijave.you the facts in a detective case
think will make interesting, sensa-
ding? Then communicate with Offi-
¢tive ‘Stories, 731 Plymouth Court,
Illinois. Don’t delay. Thousands of
‘e waiting for your story, Someone’s
be saved through the message you
ell others, Write now! /

fred is Angela Carlucci’s lover,” T em-
phasized,

About a week later Angela again
attended the fights with her handsome
young friend. This time when they
returned to the Carlucci home Detec-
tive Piano was in a perch on top of
a private garage at the rear of the
large frame dwelling. He had chosen
this retreat because it afforded him a
perfect view of the interior of Angela’s
bedroom!

He lay curled in his uncomfortable
lair, chilled by the cold night wind for
almost an hour. His eyes were trained
on Angela’s room. The shade was up,

G UDDENLY the lights went on, Pi-

ano saw the couple enter the room.
They stood locked in hungry embrace
while the man’s hands caressed her
shoulders and smoothly rounded hips.
Their lips were sealed in a deep caress.
Finally the girl disentangled herself
from Alfred’s arms and retreated to a
part of the room where Piano could
not see. Alfred quickly removed his
coat and vest and anxiously stripped
off his collar and shirt. Soon Angela
reappeared, dressed now only in a thin
silk nightgown. She stopped for a
moment to caress Alfred’s beautiful,
well-built, nude shoulders and then
hurried to the window where she
hastily drew down the shade. A sec-
ond later the lights went out.

Piano clambered down from his cold,
uncomfortable roof, sure that he had
learned something important,

When Piano reported the one thing I
had wanted to know, I decided to
strike quickly. Alfred was employed
in.a barber shop on James Street, and
I sent Mike Piano down there to pick

phim “ups 205) : :

The shop wasn’t. busy: when Mike

arrived’: and Alfred. was lounging
around: reading the morning paper.

“You'll have to come - downtown

. with: me.” - Mike. flashed: -his badge.
“Your namé is Alfred; isn’t it?” a

“What for?” asked the young Italian,
as his employer came forward ner-
vously.

“Some violation of the sanitary
code,” Piano shrugged.

“Who made the charge? Why
shouldn’t I be the one to go?” the
proprietor asked,

“Specific charge made against a man
called Alfred,” Piano lied grandly.
“By the way,” he turned to the young
man, “what’s your full name?”.

“Alfred Di Lorenzo,” he answered
crossly. - rey ;

Piano had noted upon entering the
shop ‘that the familiar Chevrolet Al-
fred drove was parked outside. He de-
cided to gamble. - ~

“Have you got a car?” he asked.

“Why, yes,” Alfred answered, be-
wildered, |

“Do you mind if we take it, then?”
Piano said. “I had-trouble with mine
on the way over here,”

Piano joked good humoredly with
his prey for a while, but soon he pre-

tended to find fault with the young

man’s driving. He scolded him for al-
leged traffic violations, sneering: .
“You're a rotten driver. You shouldn’t

‘be allowed on the street! Let me see -

your license.”

Without hesitation, Alfred took his
license from his coat pocket, and hand-
ed it to Piano. The card had been is-
sued to Alfred Giallarenzi, of No. 800
East 223rd Street, The Bronx, New
York City.

“I thought you said your name was
Di Lorenzo?”

“TI call myself that,” Alfred answered
easily. “People can’t pronounce my
real name.”

“Where’s your owner’s license?”

ALFRED produced another card. He
was frowning now.

“Angela Ross?” Piano asked, looking
at the card. “Who’s she?”

“Oh, she’s a friend of mine.” Alfred
got cautious.

“Maybe we'd better get in touch with
her,” Piano taunted.. “How do I know
you haven’t stolen the car?”

“Sure, go ahead and get in’ touch
with her,” Alfred said confidently,
“She’ll vouch for me all right.”

At Headquarters, Piano led Alfred to
aosmall office, where f waited,
“This is the Chief of the Sanitation
Department,” Piano explained. Then
turning to me, he said:
“Here is your man, Chief, Has the
complaining party arrived yet?”
“He'll be here in a few minutes,” I
replied.
“Chief, IT think we've got another
charge against this fellow,” Piano
added. “He may be operating a stolen
car, although he says Angela Ross, the
owner, is a friend of his.”
“How long have you known. this
Angela Ross?” I asked.
“Four months,” Alfred answered,
“We were both standing in front of a
jewelry shop, and she remarked how
pretty a certain ring was. I agreed
with her. That’s how it started.”
“Well, we’ll check on that a little
later,” I told him. “Take this man into
another room, officer. I'll call you
when the complainant comes.”
In about twenty minutes, Piano re-
appeared looking worried.
“Boss, we’re no further than when
we started,” he said disappointedly.
“What’s the matter?”
“I did as you told me,” he replied.
“f had the filling-station man and Mrs.
Sherwin look at Giallarenzi while he
was sitting in that room, and both of
them said they were absolutely sure
they had never seen the man before in
their lives!”
This puzzled me.
When Piano and I learned of the
love trysts on Catherine Street, I felt
certain that, at last, we had uncovered
a recognizable motive for. Carlucci’s
murder. Here was a man of: 50. His
wife was a beautiful woman ,only in
her twenties, Angela had grown tired
of her middle-aged husband, and had
‘ contrived a romance with the hand-

some young Giallarenzi. They plotted
j clear the way for their passion by
. murdering her ‘unsuspecting husband,

But " Giallarenzi, according to our
witnesses, was not the man who killed
Carlucci. He insisted that he had not
met Angela until several months after
the killing. If we were to admit this,
then we were stopped again.

“Get Angela Carlucci down here.
You are going to interview her, Piano,
She would suspect something, if she
saw me. While she’s here, have Officer
Guilfoyle search her house.”

About an hour later, Angela had
arrived and Piano talked to her in
another room.

“You say this Alfred Giallarenzi is
all right, eh? He didn’t steal your
car?” Mike prompted her,

“Certainly not,” she answered indig-
nantly. “He has my permission to use
my car any time. In fact it was once
his—he sold it to me.”

“How long have you known this
man, and where did you meet him?”
Piano asked next,

“It’s hardly any of your, business,”
Angela snapped haughtily, “but I met
him in a movie last August.”

“Okay. Now, if you wait here for
a few minutes, I’ll see ‘that everything
is cleared up right away,” Piano told
her. He was hardly able to contain his
elation at learning the discrepancy in
the couple’s statements,

When he burst into my office with
the news I had a still bigger surprise
for him.

While he was questioning Angela, I
ordered Fred Brown down to see the
car Alfred was driving.

Brown said it was the one he had
seen parked on Thompson road the
night of the murder!

He was unable to identify Alfred
positively, but said the man he had
glimpsed sitting in the parked car re-
sembled Giallarenzi!

By this time, Alfred realized that
the sanitation code violation was a
ruse. When I told him that Angela’s
version of their meeting conflicted with
his, he looked down at the floor and
said stubbornly:

“She’s mistaken.”

“Where were you on the night of
March 15, 1933?” I barked at him,

He looked up, startled, but answered

promptly enough:

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would check

-train, on the

dressed. The

they decided
tempt to free

The officers
gage car and

servation car

The Union

been laid to f

came, and aft

well?”

“Where do
starting for?”

say so.

ing forward in
“Because I
broken arm,”

hospitals, you

bought the gun at the Kansas City,
ansas, pawnshop.
He attempted to frame an alibi by
saying he had been in Springfield,
Missouri, but he was too smart to

activities: The detectives
on his story and find

something wrong with it,

Securely locked in a compartment of
an almost deserted coach on a Kan-
sas City bound train, Clarkin and’ Wil-
lis sat opposite their prisoners. There
was little conversation among them as
the wheels clicked over the rails, Fed-
eral agents sat in other parts of the

alert for any attempts to

free the prisoners,
At Chanute, Kansas, a _ mysterious
telegram was delivered to the train.

hammer that frightened fiv

After a search through the passengers,
the conductor reported he could find
no one to whom the message was ad-

F.B.I. agents took charge

of the message and after reading it

it might be another at-
their prisoners at Kan-

sas City, as had been done in the now
famous “Union Station Massacre.”

took Harris to the bag-
chained him to a post,

hand and foot. Willis went to the ob-

for the remainder of the

trip into Kansas City and Clarkin re-
mained in the baggage car with the
prisoner and the G-Men.

Wiring ahead for reinforcements to
meet the train at the station, the offi-
cers settled down for a careful watch
for any suspicious movements.

Station was surrounded

by police when the train arrived but
there was no indication that a plot had

ree Harris.

We soon had Harris at Police Head-
quarters, questioning him - about his
part in the holdup.

He did not deny he had been in the
holdup but he refused to comment on
it. He merely shrugged his shoulders
when he was told of the clew that en-

er they had had a few

drinks together and chatted a while,
my husband left with him.”
“Did your husband know this Gallo

“I don’t know. I myself had never
seen him before tonight.”

you think they were
I went on.

“Perhaps they were going to the
Doctor's, although my husband didn’t

“Why do you think they were going
to the Doctor’s?” I asked eagerly, lean-

my chair,
think Mr. Gallo had a
Angela tried to remem-

ber. “You see, his arm was done up
in a big bandage—like they make in

know. It was his right

abled us to trail him. After several
hours of questioning had failed to get
Harris to admit his part in the crime,
we called the witnesses in to have them
look at Harris in the showup.

They were positive Harris was one of
the men who robbed the bank of $3,-
955.71 just one week prior to this
occasion. Harris was turned over to
the F.B.I. for Prosecution under Fed-
eral charges,

At his preliminary hearing before
United States Commissioner Charles
H. Thompson, Harris was identified by
Judson Breed, president of the bank,
Dexter Lacy, the golf club caddy, and
others in the bank,

Logan Wyrick, cashier of the bank,
testified that marks on the wrappers

J. D. McInnes demonstrates to reporters the tack

e bank robbers into action

\
on the money which had been found
on Harris at Tulsa had been placed

Commissioner Thompson ordered
Harris held for action of the Federal
Grand Jury on September 7, and set
his bond at $50,000. His girl friend,
Margaret Wilson, in the meantime was
released by the police department.

After his arraignment before Com-
missioner Thompson, Harris also was
identified by clerks at the Grain Val-
ley Bank, a short distance from Kan-
sas City, as one of the men who robbed
the bank of $600 last February 8. He
denied the accusation, but Federal
agents indicated he would be tried for
that holdup also since the bank was a
member of the F.D.LC.

Meanwhile in Kansas City we were
told that Orville Garrison and William
Newell, both police characters, had
been in on the holdup. The informa-
tion came’ from our underworld
sources. They had gone to the Lake
of Ss Ozarks region, the informants
said.

We sent detectives to the region to
look for the pair and continued to show

arm. The hand and all the forearm
were heavily bandaged all the way up
to the elbow. I noticed it particularly
because the arm was not in the sleeve
of his coat. He had that draped and
buttohed around his shoulder.”

| LEAPED to my feet. An idea had
suddenly, come to me.

“That will be all for tonight, Mrs,
Carlucci,” I explained hurriedly. “T’
have to call you down to my office
tomorrow, though. I’m deeply sorry
for your trouble.”

“What’s the big idea, Chief?” asked
one of the boys as soon as we were
back in the car. “Aren’t you going to
question that dame any more?”

“Back to Elm Lodge, and make it
Snappy. I’ve got a notion about some-
thing and I want to find out if I’m
right before I do any more talking,”

The lunch room was still brilliantly
lighted and Mrs. Sherwin was flutter-

pictures of other bandits to the wit-
nesses at the bank. They picked out
the pictures of Murray Gould, the
Southwest’s Public Enemy No, 1, and
his partner George Karatosas, Both
already are under indictment for the
holdup of a bank at Cairo, Missouri, in
June,

Karatosas, a Greek, is dark com-
plexioned and the witnesses identi-
fied him as the man they believed to
be the Negro who drove the Cadillac
to the bank.

Circulars were sent out and radio-
grams were dispatched to all surround-
ing cities to be on the lookout for the
pair. They are Slippery and we ex-
pect a long search before they are
found.

On July 13, Thomas J. Higgins, chief
of detectives, who had returned from
his vacation, was Surprised to hear a
familiar voice on his telephone,

“This is. Orville Garrison,” the
voice said. “I hear you are looking
for me and William Newell. Is that
right?”

Witnesses at the bank were called
in to look at them but they were un-

our information was good, however,
SO we called the Federal agents and
told them of our arrests.. They al-

United States District Attorney, They
entered pleas of not guilty before
Charles H, Thompson, the Commission-
er, and were taken to the county jail
hear they could not make their $25,000
ond.

tinue to investigate every bit of in-
formation, in the hope we can capture
them. They are wanted for holdups
amounting to about $15,000 in this
area, and for jumping bond. Gould
was arrested in Kansas City in 1935
in connection with the holdup of a
cashier here, and was Placed under
$10,000 bond but ran out on it. He
also is sought by the government for
breaking jail in Topeka early this
year, He was awaiting trial for pos-
session of counterfeit money,

"Hunt the Killer with the Bandaged Arm!" (Continued from Page 12)

eight,” she replied. “There was a man
by the name of Tony Gallo with him.
I don’t think my husband had planned
to leave the house. But this Gallo

ing about when we again drew to a
stop in front of Elm Lodge. I, hur-
ried inside and went directly to her,

“Mrs, Sherwin, in your story of the
man you described, didn’t you say that
he went into the washroom while you
were fixing his lunch?”

“Why, yes, Mr. Martin.”

I almost ran to the washroom, and
within a few minutes, found what I
was looking for. My hunch had been
right! Crammed in’ the Pipes of the
flush bowl was a long wad of soaking
surgical bandage! .

“What’s that?” asked one of my as-
sistants.

“Remember earlier in the evening
when we found Carlucci’s body, how
the Coroner and all of us were puz-
zled over those three bullet holes in
the dead man’s temple?” I began to
explain. “The bullets, you noticed,
had all entered his temple within the
radius of an inch. Well, the greatest

\

O8b


showed that Giallarenzo had been
home on sick leave, and in bed, be-
tween March 12 and March 18, 1933,
or three days before and after Car-
lucci’s murder in Syracuse, and that
the doctor had visited and treated
him daily during this period!

Piano was more than a little dis-
turbed. But, like the -proverbial
drowning man, he clutched at a
straw. He called on the doctor who
had treated Giallarenzo.

“J yemember him well,” the phy-
sician. told him. ‘‘He was run down,
so I gave him a letter which would
permit him to lay up for a-week.”

“Did you see him every day?”

“Why, no. I only saw him that

once. He’s a personal friend and .-

I gave him a letter as a favor.”

“You mean, he asked for the let-
ter?”

“Yes, as I remember, he did.”

So that was it! An advance alibi!
Piano hastened out to see Mrs.
Giallarenzo.

The cold anger in Mrs, Giallar-
enzo’s face during his recital con-
cerning her husband’s frequent vis-
its to Angela Carlucci told him he
was on the right. track.

“So!” she exclaimed when the
officer finished. “I’ve suspected it
several times. What do you want
to find out?” :

“Just one thing—where was your
husband on March 15, 1933?”

“He was on a hunting trip in up-
state New York, he and another
man.”

“Do you know the name of the
other man?”

“Yes. It’s Tony Nadile.”

“Does he ever go by any other
name?”

“Yes, sometimes Tony Gallo.”

Piano took the first train back
to Syracuse, only one doubt remain-
ing in his mind: Was Angela Car-
lucci involved in the case, or was
she simply an innocent party? On
arrival at his destination he re-
ported his findings to Martin. They
had Angela brought into the lat-
ter’s office.

The deputy started out with a
bluff: “Giallarenzo has told us ev-
erything about your husband’s
murder,” he announced tersely.

Suddenly the girl looked old. Her
piquant mouth sagged and her
frightened eyes lost their lustre.

“He told us you two conspired to
get rid of your husband,” Piano
bluffed on. “You don’t have to talk
if you don’t want to. But it may go
easier for you if you do.”

“He leaped to the girl’s side to
ease her into a chair as she sank
in a faint.

Neither he nor Martin was pre-
pared for the cold-blooded recital
of the murder conspiracy which the
girl gave following her recovery.

“I first met Alfred in 1931,” she
began. “He told me he was in love
with me, and that he couldn't live

36

HUMAN DETECTIVE CASES

without me. Soon he suggested that
we get rid of my husband.”

“Did you agree to that?”

“Not at first, but he kept after
me about it, saying he wouldn’t
have to do it himself, but would
get someone to do the job for pay.”

“Was he to pay the man?”
-“No, he didn’t have any money
to speak of. I was to pay him a
thousand dollars. When I finally
agreed, he brought Tony Nadile to
the house, and told me he would
go under the name of Tony Gallo.
The three of us discussed the best
way to kill Joseph, and when we
couldn’t agree, Alfred said we would
all think it over and would meet
again later. We got together about
five or six weeks after that.”

“And you continued to live with
your husband during all this peri-
od, knowing that he was going to
be murdered?” Martin asked, still
unable to fathom the contrast be-
tween the girl’s appearance and
the macabre tale she was reciting.

“There was nothing else for me
to do. I couldn’t tell Joseph we
were going to kill him.”

“All right, go on.”

“Well, Alfred brought Tony Na-
dile back on March 15th. He told
me that he had taken Tony down
to my husband’s office several] times.
That they all had lunch and drinks
together, and that Joseph liked
Tony and had asked him to come up
and visit him. It was that which
gave Alfred the idea of how to
do it.”

“You mean, the supposed broken
arm?”

“Yes. Alfred told me it was an
old trick in Italy, but wasn’t very
well known here. Tony came to the
house with his arm all wrapped
up:and asked Joseph to drive him
to the hospital to have it reset.
Joseph agreed to do it, not knowing
of course that Tony had a gun con-
cealed in the bandage around his
hand.” :

“What part did Alfred take in
the murder?”

“Well, he planned it all, as I
told you.”

“But did he take part in the ac-
tual killing?”

“No, that’s what Tony was being
paid for. Alfred was to pick Tony
up in his car afterwards. He parked
it on the other side of the cemetery.
But he did not trust Tony, so he
went over and hid at the place
they _had agreed on where the
shooting was to be done. But Tony
got frightened, or something, right
after he had fired the shots and
he saw that Joseph was dead, and
he either forgot or was afraid to
carry out the plan of meeting Al-
fred, so he jumped out of the car
and ran.”

“But Alfred was seen leaving the
car in which your husband was kill-
ed by a man coming up the hill.
How did Alfred get in it?”

“He ran over and jumped in it
when he saw it rolling down the
hill, so that he could stop it and
keep it from being wrecked. But
he had just about got into it and
didn’t even have time to set the
brake when he saw another car
on the road—that’s probably the
one the man was in who saw him
—and he got frightened and ran
through the cemetery to his own
car and drove back in the direc-
tion he had seen Tony go, and
picked him up. What happened af-
ter that, I don’t know exactly. Tony
was to go back to New York by
bus, and I suppose he did.”

“Where does Tony live?”

“I don't know. I’m not sure he
really lives in New York, although
Alfred said he did.”

“But what about the thousand
dollars you were to pay him? You've
only given him about a tenth of
that. Who was to pay that, you or
Giallarenzo?”

“I was, I told you. Alfred doesn’t
have that much money.”

“And you were going to pay for
your husband’s murder out of the
money he left you after he was
killed?”

“Yes,” the woman replied with
an astounding calmness.

“Well,” demanded Martin, “why
haven’t you? You’ve only given him
a tenth of what you promised.”

Mrs. Carlucci remained silent for
a. moment. “Well, you see,” she be-
gan, “Alfred thought that since
he ... well-——”

For the first time since she be-
gan to unfold her cold-blooded
story, she appeared to be embar-
rassed.

“TJ think I understand,” Martin
advanced. “Alfred thought that
since your husband had been killed
and Gallo—or Nadile — wouldn’t
dare tell about it, you were per-
fectly safe in cheating him out of
the rest of the money?”

“Yes,” the girl whispered.

FTER her confession was writ-

ten out and signed, Giallarenzo
was called in. Without a word, Mar-
tin handed him her statement. The
increasing shakiness of his hand,
the receding color of his face and
the incessant moistening of his lips
with his tongue indicated the emo-
tional upset which he was under-
going. He leaped from his chair
at the conclusion of his reading.

“The woman’s crazy!” he shout-
ed.

‘Maybe Tony Nadile is too,” Piano
once more bluffed. “He says the
same thing.”

Giallarenzo searched the depu-
ty’s face, his fright apparent.

“Imm not going to say another
word,” he declared. “I want to see
a lawyer.”

“All right,” Martin agreed. “You
are entitled to one. We're holding
you for murder.”

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Any doubts as to the accuracy
of Voigt’s deductions were removed
when he and his partner met Dis-
trict Attorney Martin and Sergeant
Perry at Mostift’s Filling Station.
The story of the alleged broken
arm dovetailed as neatly as a jig-
saw puzzle with that told by the
gauze found fioating in the flush
basin. :

An hour later, in the district at-
torney’s Office, that official and
Sergeant Perry resumed the ques-
tioning of Mrs. Carlucci.

Previously, from Carlo while at
the morgue, Martin had learned
something interesting about Joseph
and Angela, something which he
wanted to verify.

“you eloped with your husband,
didn’t you?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Did you know he had been mar~
ried before?”

“Yes, he told me.”

“Did he tell you that his wife was
still living in Italy, that he hadn’t
got a divorce from her, and that
he had three children?”

“why—he—that is—well, I loved
him, and I didn’t see what dif-
ference that made.”

“Then you did know it?”

“yes,” the girl admitted reluc-
tantly. A defiant look came into her
eyes. “I don’t see what that’s got
to do with who killed Joseph,” she
said. “I think you ought to try to
find that out.”

“But it may have something to
do with it,” Martin suggested. “Sup-
pose the wife was anxious for re-
venge because of the way in which
she had been treated and nad ar-
ranged to have your husband kill-
ed?” )

“Maybe,” Mrs. Carlucci admitted,
apparently frightened at an angle
which had not previously occurred
to her. “But I don’t think so,” she
added, brightening. “She’s very
poor, She wouldn't have the money
to come to America.”

“Possibly not,” Perry admitted,
“put that’s something we're Cer-
tainly going to look into.”

He sent the girl and Carlo home,
with instructions to hold them-
selves in readiness for further
questioning. Then he turned his at-
tention to the gun which Voigt had
picked up in the cemetery.

It was a .29 calibre weapon, No.
2716954. Since it was the belief of
poth Angela and Carlo that the
shadowy and mysterious Tony Gal-
lo came from New York, Perry got
in touch by telephone with the
property clerk at headquarters
there.

He was astounded at what he
Jearned. For the property clerk re-
ported that in 1921, just eleven
years before, this same gun had
been confiscated by the New York
police and, along ‘with thousands
of others, presumably dumped into
the water off Atlantic Highlands.

34

HUMAN DETECTIVE CASES

Yet here the gun was, lying on
the desk in front of him, the same
weapon which, more than a decade
after it was supposed to be lying
at the bottom of the sea, had added
yet another death to possible pre-
vious ones for which it might have
been responsible!

An inquiry to fix the responsi- |
bility for this slip-up was begun by
the Police Commissioner of New

and, with the assistance of officers
there, searched for the elusive
“Tony Gallo”, find any trace of
such a person. Neither New York
City nor FBI files disclosed a rec-
ord of anyone by that name.

N the theory that the murder

of Carlucci had been due to
gang animosities, the sergeant be-
gan an investigation into the vic-
tim’s backpround. talking to his
business and social friends and ac-
quaintances. The inquiry disclosed
that Carlucci had been in the real
estate business, and that he had
accumulated a few thousand dollars

bank. But nothing whatever was
uncovered to show that he had been
engaged in any kind of illegal un-
dertaking, Or that he associated
with shady or criminal characters.

Gradually the stream of tips and
rumors and hunches surrounding
the case like anaura subsided into
a trickle, and then evaporated en-
tirely. Weeks slid by with their usu-
al speed, and then months. Perry
and Voigt and Picard had gone
back to the routine. duties of state
troopers. The case slipped back
among the other “Unsolved” ones
which clutter up the records of ev-
ery police department.

But two men were keeping it
alive in their minds. One was Dis-
trict Attorney Martin. The other,
strangely enough, was 4 deputy
sheriff who had never previously
put one minute of his time on it.
He was young Michael Piano.

All he knew about the case was
what he had read in the newspa~
pers and what he had learned in
discussing it with other officers. But
he had given it a great amount of
thought, turning over in his mind
various angles of it and trying to
put his finger on some as yet un-
observed weak spot.

One thing which particularly puz-
zled him was why a beautiful young

girl like Angela Carlucci should.

continue to live entirely alone in
a two-story, seven or eight room
house. He finally broached his
thoughts to District Attorney Mar-
tin.

“What're you getting at, Mike?”
the D. A. asked.

“Just this: I think maybe if I

kept an eye on that girl for @
while I might be able to pick up
some kind of a lead.”

“you don’t think she’s connected
with her husband’s murder, do
you?”

“J don’t know. I rather doubt it,
but of course you never can tell.”

“well, all I can say,” Martin
commented, ‘“‘is that if she had
anything to do with it, she’s the
best little actress I ever saw. But
go ahead. We haven't anything to
lose.”

Now that he was on the job,
Piano did it thoroughly. From ten
in the morning to twelve at night,
for more than three weeks, he
watched Angela’s home on Cath-
erine Street, scrutinizing everyone

into town.

Several nights in succession, Pi-
ano noted, a man in a Chevrolet
car called on her. He checked up
on its license. The records showed
that it belonged to Angela Ross, the
maiden name of Mrs. Carlucci.

Usually the man only stayed an
hour or two. But on his fifth visit
he remained for about five hours,
leaving at about one in the morn-
ing.

Piano made up his mind to pick
the man up for questioning. But
he had to think of some way of
doing it which would not excite the
other’s suspicions, and at the same
time protect himself from criticism.

Piano drew his car up alongside
that of Angela’s visitor, after fol-
lowing him for about a half mile.

“you know you were doing 50,
don’t you?” he demanded, taking
in in one swift glance the black
hair, dark eyes and broad, rather
heavy face of the driver.

“No, I wasn’t, officer, I——”

“Sure,” Piano interjected, “the
usual argument. You weren't doing
over twenty. Where's your license?”

The man handed it over. The offi-
cer saw what he expected—the
name Angela Ross as the owner of
the vehicle.

“priving a stolen car, eh?” he
commented grimly.

“No, I’m not,” the other answered
indignantly. “It’s owned by a friend
of mine.”

Piano tried to register doubt.
“Well, maybe it’s all right,” he said
doubtfully. “But you'll have to go
to headquarters until we can check
up on you.”

At the central office the man gave
his name as Alfred Giallarenzo, and
his home as 800 East 223rd Street,
New York City.

“Who's this Angela Ross whose
car you're driving?” Piano demand-
ed.

“She's a_ friend of mine. I've
known her a long time.”

“Is she married?”

“She was.”

“Where's her husband?”

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CONFIDENTIAL FACTS FR

“He’s dead.”

“Oh.” Piano asked these ques-
tions for the purpose of lulling any
suspicions Giallarenzo might have.

“What're you doing in Syracuse?”

“Visiting some friends here.”

“Don’t you do any work?” ‘

“Sure I do. I just happen to be
out of a job now, so I thought I’d
take a little vacation.”

“Where have you worked?”

“In New York. I was employed
by the telephone company there for
several years. I quit about a month
ago.”

“Okay,” Piano said, as though
half-satisfied. “we'll send for Mrs.
Ross. Have a cigarette and make
yourself comfortable.”

He was Stalling for time. He
wanted to consult District Attorney
Martin, and to round up the filling
station proprietor into whose place
a nervous and agitated visitor had
inquired about the New York bus
immediately after the murder, as
well as the owner of the restaurant,
and Fred Brown, whose car had
nearly collided with that in which
the dead man had rolled down the
hill and into the ditch.

By telephone he got them all out
of bed. Brown was the first to ar-
rive. Through the crack of 4 door
leading into an adjoining room, he
gazed at the profile of the heavy-
set Giallarenzo.

“Ts he the one you saw running
into the cemetery?” Piano whis-
pered.

Perhaps his confident expectation
of an affirmative answer rendered
the officer’s disappointment even
more acute. For Brown was posi-
tive.

“No,” he affirmed. “I never saw
that man before.”

“Are you sure?”

“apsolutely.”

Piano’s remaining shred of hope
that perhaps Brown was mistaken
was blasted completely when the
restaurant owner insisted that the
prisoner was not the man who had
come into her restaurant, and when
Mr. Mostiff was equally certain that
he was not the one who had asked
him about the New York bus.

JANO was still not entirely sat-

isfied. There was another angle
which he had not tried. He con-
sulted Martin about it, and then,
in order to allay Giallarenzo’s pos-
sible suspicions at the long delay,
informed him that he would have
to remain at headquarters until
morning, because it was now three
o’clock and he did not care to dis-
turb Mrs. Ross at that hour. He
then hurried to her house.

She laughed when he told her
that they had picked up someone
on suspicion of having stolen her

car.

“why, that’s Alfred Giallarenzo!”
she exclaimed. “He’s a friend of
mine, visiting here from New York.

I let him have the use of the car
while he’s here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Piano apologized.
“You'd better come down to head-
quarters and identify him.”

He followed her out the front
entrance. As he did so, he softly
turned back the latch and secured
it with the holding pin, leaving the
door unlocked.

As they drove toward downtown
Syracuse, he looked through the
rear-view mirror.

Deputy Sheriff Guilfoyle, in ac-
cordance with their previously-
made arrangement, was entering
Mrs. Carlucci’s house to conduct
the thorough search which District
Attorney Martin had instructed him
to make.

When Piano and the girl arrived
at headquarters, he left her in an
ante-room when informed by a fel-
low officer that the District Attor-
ney wanted to see him.

“Brown wants to have another
look at Giallarenzo,” Martin in-
formed him. “He’s been worrying
about it. Wants you to take him
into the room SO that he can get
a closer view.”

Piano arranged for a fellow-off-
cer to conduct Brown into the room
on the pretext that he wanted him
to identify some papers. The latter
emerged a few moments later.

“That’s the man!” he exclaimed.

> “«ye's the one who ran through the

cemetery. When I looked at him
before I only saw him in profile,
like I did when he ducked under
the fence. But now I saw him full
face, the way I had gotten a view
when my headlights flashed on
him. There’s no doubt about it! He’s
the one, all right!”

Piano had Mostiff and the res-
taurant owner look over Giallar-
enzo again. Both were as definite
the second time as they had been
pefore that he was not the man
who had come into their place the
night Carlucci was killed.

“well, I guess we're on the wrong
trail,” Piano remarked dejectedly
to Martin.

“Looks that way,” the latter
agreed.

The telephone rang. It was Guil-
foyle. “I didn’t find much,” he re-
ported, “only some money-order
receipts. They probably haven’t
anything to do with the case, but
Tl bring them down.”

A few. moments later he laid on
Martin’s desk seven money-order
receipts he had found in a closet
in Angela Carlucci’s home. They
totaled $125. There was no reason
to think they had any bearing on
the case. But Piano, with his usual
thoroughness, decided to check on
them at the post office. -

He found that four, amounting
in all to $65, had been sent by
Angela Ross to Alfred Giallarenzo,
one for $25 from Angela to Anthony
Nadile, 900 Bast 213th Street, New

OM POLICE FILES

York City; one for $15 from Gial-
jarenzo to Nadile; and one for $20
from Albert Di Lorenzo to Nadile.
But the handwriting on the mon-
ey order application blank signed
by Di Lorenzo was exactly the same
as that of Alfred Giallarenzo!
This was certainly a suspicious
circumstance. Men usually don’t go
under different names unless they
have something to conceal. Piano
also began to wonder why Angela
should send money to Giallarenzo.
The deputy decided on a little fur-
ther questioning of the latter, this
time playing on the possible ele-
ment of surprise.
“Tell me, Di Lorenzo—I mean,
Giallarenzo, are you married?”
He noted the flashing flicker of
disturbed surprise in the face of

first name. But the reply ignored it.

“Why—why, yes, I am.”

“Is Tony Nadile?”

Even the most unobservant per-
son could not have failed to see
the effort Giallarenzo was making
to conceal an obvious perturbation.

“Tony—Nadile?” he repeated. “J
—I don’t think I know—anybody
by that name.”

“That’s funny. You don’t send
money to strangers, do you?”

“Oh—oh, I remember now. There
was a man of that name I bought
a—watch from.”

“And you sent him a money or-
der for it for $15?”

“Why, yes, that’s it.’ He seemed
to realize for the first time that
the post office records had prob-
ably been examined.

“What about your other money
order to him for $20?” Piano went
on relentlessly.

“J don’t—think J—-sent him any
other——”

His voice trailed off. ‘“Yes, you
did,” the deputy insisted, “You sent
it in the name of Di Lorenzo. Why
did you do that?”

“Look here,” the prisoner sud-
denly demanded, “what’s all this
got to do with my using Angela’s
car?”

“Nothing,” Piano answered, “but
it may have something to do with
another matter.”

“what kind of a matter?”

“you'll find out later,” Piano an-
swered, deliberately evasive in order

-to let Giallarenzo worry @ bit—in

the event he had anything to worry
about. “I’ll have to hold you for
a while longer.”

“How much longer?”

“That remains to be seen.”

FEW hours later Piano, after

conferring with District Attor-
ney Martin, left for New York. He
went immediately to the office of
the telephone company.

Here, once more, what had ap-
peared to be a good lead, simply
blew up.

For the records of the company

35


mped in it
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is too,” Piano
He says the

d the depu-
parent.

say another
want to see

agreed, “You
Ve’re holding

CONFIDENTIAL FACTS FROM POLICE FILES

While he was awaiting trial, Piano
made persistent efforts to locate
Nadile. The third conspirator, how-
ever, proved himself very elusive.
Several times the never-tiring dep-
uty got a “line” on him, only to
have him edge out of the apparent
trap. Convinced that the chase was

going to be a long one, he suggest- |

ed that Giallarenzo be brought to
trial. The District Attorney agreed.

The defiant prisoner faced judge
and jury on February 13, 1934. The
chief witness against him was the
beautiful Angela.

With that same sweet expression
so characteristic of her, she re-
peated on the stand the story she
had told in the prosecutor’s office,
again showing shame only when it
was brought out that she and her
co-plotter intended to cheat her

HUMAN
DETECTIVE

donated by a different admirer—
what an odd way to keep track of
your boy friends. . . 2

“Wonder whether the murderer
is among them,” grunted Geapard.
“J suppose our men will know
soon.”

Questioning of the victim’s
friends was still in progress when
early in the afternoon Zierer and
Geapard were informed that an
empty black leather briefcase had
been found in the central railway
terminal. Rushing to the scene of
the important discovery, they
learned the article had been left
in the men’s room.

“It was some time after mid-
night,” the washroom attendant
disclosed, “when I opened the com-
partment for a traveler and no-
ticed the briefcase on the floor. I
picked it up and turned it over
to the clerk in charge of the Lost
and Found office. I don’t remem-
ber who used the compartment be-
fore I found the priefcase—and it
is quite possible that someone push-
ed it in there from one of the
adjacent lavatories.”

The briefcase was taken to head-
quarters where the Odeon’s man-
ager identified it as the one stolen
from the cashier’s booth. Examin-
ing the evidence further, a finger-
print officer recovered a few im-
pressions, but none of them tallied
with specimens from the criminal
file.

Their efforts to track down the
throat-slasher led police from one
of Yvonne Marlois’ admirers to an-
other, but all of these men, an-
swering every description, were
able to produce some kind of alibi
acceptable to the authorities.

Going through the belongings of

husband’s slayer out of the money
his crime had “earned.”

The defense was totally unable
to break her down. The opinion of
everyone that Giallarenzo would
speedily be found guilty was borne
out, Judge William F, Dowling sen-
tenced him, on February 13, 1934,
to be executed at Sing Sing on Feb-
ruary 7, 1935.

After the usual legal delays, Gial-
larenzo, still defiantly protesting his
innocence, died in the electric chair
at the old prison on the Hudson.

Efforts to locate Nadile continued
after the death of his partner in
murder. Months went by, and then
years, with the fugitive apparently
as far from capture as ever. But
Piano did not relax his efforts. He
kept sending out “WANTED” cir-
culars and occasionally running

down to New York to check on tips
from stool pigeons he had working
on the case.

It was not until 1940, more than
four years after Giallarenzo had
gone to his death, that Nadile was
finally captured. He went on trial
on March 3; 1941, almost ten years
after the slaying of Carlucci.

Once more Angela was the prin-
cipal witness. And once more she
told her macabre story. It was just
as effective as in the case of her
former sweetheart. Nadile was con-
victed and sentenced to death. His
conviction was affirmed by the
Court of Appeals.

Governor Lehman, however, on
March 4, 1942, commuted his sen-
tence to life imprisonment.

Because of her help to the state,
Mrs. Carlucci was not prosecuted.

DEATH GOES TO THE MOVIES.

(Continued from page 17)

the deceased, detectives came across
a number of poems written by
Pierre Odette and kept together by
a red silk ribbon. These poems
showed clearly that the young man
had been desperately in love with
his vivacious fiancee and that he
was fearful of but one thing—
losing her.
&

HE two crime hunters were still

discussing the various aspects of
the baffling case when Manager
Hausmann telephoned. ‘I discover-
ed one of those little charms like
the ones on Miss Marlois’ brace-
let,” the cooperative witness re-
ported excitedly. “Want me to bring
it over?”

“Where did you find it?” Zierer
inquired hopefully.

“In the cashier’s booth. Must’ve
eluded your men when they were
searching it.”

“Strange they should’ve overlook-
ed that,” muttered the detective,
“put anything may happen. Wait
for me at the theatre.”

A few minutes later the commis-
sars were inside the Odeon. Haus-
mann handed over the charm—a
tiny replica of a .bell. Then he led
the investigators into the cashier’s
booth and pointed at a crack in
the flooring. “I didn’t find it my-
self,” he explained, “Miss Frank-
ler did.” He added with a vague
smile. “She’s been promoted and
works as cashier now.”

The girl’s lovely face flushed, ‘I
happened to see it this morning,”
she added her. part of the story,
“when I looked around for a coin
that had rolled off the desk. The
charm was all cavered with dust.”

Zierer nodded, examining the
bell with critical eyes. He observed

that the minute metal ring with
which it was to be fastened to the
bracelet still formed a solid circle.
“This charm looks brand new
to me,” he indicated, “as if it had
never been on a bracelet.” He look-
ed at Yvonne Marlois’ friend. “Do
you recall having seen this little
bell among Yvonne’s trophies?”
“No, sir,” Doris Frankler stated,

‘ “but I do know that she wanted

one like it.”

“Do you think Pierre Odette
bought it for her?”

“T can’t tell you that.”

Geapard turned to the manager.
“I want to be sure on one point,
Mr. Hausmann—were you in the
habit of leaving the theatre around
12 o’clock every night?”

“Yes, I usually had a cup of
coffee at that time,” Hausmann
answered. “Guess the murderer
knew that—”

The officers left the Odeon and
for a moment stood gazing about
busy, sun-flooded Klinger Street.
“we'll have to find out what Odette
hus to say about this little charm,”
Zierer mused. “In case he didn’t
buy it—or pretends he didn’t—we
shall attempt to trace it to its
source, That will be difficult, of
course, perhaps impossible. But it
begins to look more and more as if
the killer knew Yvonne and all
about the theatre. And he may have
approached her that night under
the pretense of wanting to show
her the charm—which would ex-
plain how he managed to surprise
her so completely.”

“A)) this is possible,” Geapard
agreed, “and yet there might be
still another angle to this charm.
Suppose someone planted it re-
cently to produce a false lead?”

37