The Maniac Who Laughed

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 220, 17 September 1938, Page 9 (Supplement)

The Maniac Who Laughed

" THATS the spot, sheriff. Right 1 there her head struck the floor. Yea, I killed her—but it was an accident."

Faced with evidence from the lie dctcctor, his spirit broken after yet another police grilling, Jerome Selz, mans murderer, had spoken at last.

"And what did you kill her with?" demanded Sheriff McGrath.

"A poker . . . but say, you'll never find her, I put her away and wouldn't you like to know where t" Still half defiant, Jerome Selz burst out into the same empty, senseless latijrliter that had baffled the police ever since their suspicions had fallen on the (nan. then serving a sentence of 30 days' imprisonment for fraud. It had all started with the report of a hold-up at a garage which three policemen at San Mateo in California received over the telephone. They were suspicious of what they heard, the details did not %»lly.

8y... George Ramage

Jerome von Braun Selz was the name of the young attendant who had telephoned and next day they grilled him for an hour—until he confessed the bandit hold-up was a hoax. Nobody thought any more about the oa9e —except two San Francisco detectives, M. Lyle Britt, of the National Auto Theft Bureau, and Inspector 0. W. O'Leary, of the Police Robbery Detail. . "The fellow who collected insurance on a stolen Ford four months ago!" murmured Britt when he read the ''(Suspicious, they went along to question Selz. For three hours they fired questions at h«-i. only to be met with laughter and v. i ecracks.

But at length ho made an admission. "I did get that car back. It's in a garage I rented; I'll show you."

He had collected heavy insurance money; their suspicions were justified. When they reached the car they made further discoveries —the number plates changed—rope, ammonia and adhesive tape—the passport of a woman, Mrs. Ada Rice.

"A woman I did business with," explained Selz with a latigh. "I traded my mining property at Downieville for her house at Woodside Glen."

The detectives exchanged significant glances. Then they drove Selz back to the county gaol and went on to Woodside.

A lovely girl, dressed in slacks and a oolomrful sweater, greeted them. "I'm Dorothy Famum," she explained. "Mr. Selz found me hitA hiking."

They started examining the house. Hidden found letters to Mrs, Rice, nevey orwarded. Thev found,

too, a letter from an insurance company referring to a cheque sent. The cheque was traced; the endorsement was a forgery.

At Mrs. Rice's bank they learned that a young man liad called with a letter from her to transfer her account to his. The name of the young man was Selz, and the signature to the letter was a forgery. Yet another link.

Finally Selz admitted the forgery. A strap va« fastened round his chest to measure his breathing, another round his arm to record his heart beats and blood pressure.

"Did—you—kill—Mrs.—Rice?" "No!" lie replied emphatically. But the needle had jerked sharply up. Another hour's grilling, and at last Selz was ready to tell.*

"I'll tell him something to-night!" he shouted. "But first take me home."

In a tense silence, they stood around in the sinister room at Woodside. Suddenly Selz began. With his heel he made a mark on the >oden floor.

"That's the spot, Sherriff. Right ?s.«™ ,ruck the floor Ye< nights before I'd taken her to town with that Bulgarian officer, Baronovitch. "I walked into the house that night," he continued. "It was dark. Then somebody slugged me. I was dazed. I stumbled to the fireplace and grabbed the poker. I couldn't see at thing, but I swung out, way out, like this . . . "I hit something and heard a thud. . . I heard somebody go out of those French windows and run away. I switched on the lights. And. well, I discovered I had killed Mrs. Bice." He took them to where he had buried the body in quicklime. Police officers elsewhere began to study their records. There was the mysterious death of Mrs. Betty Coffin in San Francisco. She had gone into a hotel with a young man, registering as Mr. and Mrs. Meyers.., Her body had been found hacked with razor blades, her lips sealed with tape, the proprietor and night clerk identified Selz as the man. "While they were questioning Selz, along came another surprise.

"Say," he buret out, "did you ever get the wire off that other fellow ? Guess I didn't tell you about it, did IT You know, I bumped off that Bulgarian officer, Baronovitch. Want to hear about it?"

He had killed him, bouna a hundredweight of wire around his body, and dumped the maes in the river.

Other murders, hitherto unsolved, also began to point to him.

"Boy, Sherriff!" smirked Selz after a day's grilling, "guess this makes me the mass murderer, all right."

There was the service station man, his dead body found with an adze deep in the skull.

There was the 17-year-old model, Louise Teubner, found hanging from a tree.

There was the 11-year-old Virginia Brooks, found horribly strangled. Two people he had been seen with had vanished. But no proofs could be brought. Gone, however, was Selz's flashing demeanour as he faced the judge, on trial for the murder of Mrs. Rice. Gone wm his mocking laughter. "Guilty!" came his plea.

"It is the judgment of this Court," announced the judge, "that you be confined in State's Prison at San Quentin for the remainder of your natural life."