murder Syndicate

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 165, 15 July 1939, Page 9 (Supplement)

murder Syndicate

Part VIII.

JN the crime castle, the day after the robbery, Carl Rettich lowered the newspaper he was reading and looked at Andino Merola. Rettich's round face was blank, his slate-grey eyes without expression. "Am.lv." lie «aid. '-What's this Peter Pui".i» allele?" M»Tii|,i gulped, -oh. that!" ho said. "lli.it w.i- nne .if tho 'phony names FMi.T iind 1 UM'd to »et plate* that wouldn't bo 'hot.' Hnw'd they find <>ut about thorn: We took em off" the car." '•Someone snw the Mtick-up." Rettich's voice was culm, ".hiet who got those plates under the Dubois name': You —or Fi-hrr?" "Why ... it was Fisher." '•The (lc~,ri|»tiMi, ~f Peter Dubois iloo-n't tit Fisher. Fisher hasn't got a mointache." "I'\e got a moustache." "Mirn. You just Ki-Oirr got the pl.ite*. Ju*t \vhn"-»-Ri>ttirh spaced hi* word* "n Peter Dubois?" "I'm telling you. Carl—" Morula got no further. Carl Rettich wa* on his feet. His hand swept his en ft* up from tin- table in front of him. It shattered, as Morula watched, fas.-inafd, against the wall. "You're telling nre lies. Y.m dirty pair of douhlo-crosscis! You brought an oiit*idf> man into thi* job. Who is Peter Dubois?* , Merola shrank at the word "douhlp-cni-ner.', Carella had been a doublecrosspr—"Legs" Carella who wound up is a ghastly unidentifiable thing in a gra\e of lime, his feet hacked off, his body eaten away. Carl Rpttich seized Mpmla'e collar. shook him until his teeth grated and his eye* popped. •"For God'* sake. Carl—" lie choked. "Who is Peter Dubois V

Marshal Murphy told last Week how the Fall River mail truck St Aj P A? J anu °ry 23, 1935. mas executed. Thrcugh Fisher and Andy Mtroia. Carl Redid, learned that pay-roll money Was being brought to the Fall River post office by a mail truck with a lone driver. His plans called for two sets of false car plates—and Fisher secretly Violated his 'first law" by entrusting the obtaining of the plates to a young ° uts 'der Herbert Hyman Hormlein. In a snowstorm the truck was blocked ann d s driver, Herbert Reid, was forced at the point of a machine gun to gel ir.io a stolen sedan. Then, up a lonely road, the money was transferred from his truck lo a Relttch truck;'the former and the sedan with Reid helpless on its floor were abandoned as the Reitich truck rumbled aWay in triumph to the crime castle. Reid worked himself loose and gave the alarm. Chief Postal Inspector John J. Breslin immediately created a light police blockade on all roads, but the bandit truck got through. No clues led anywhere — until a simple "fcroa/e" occurred which eventually solved the whole mystery. A man had seen the hold-up actually taking place and had jolted' down the fake car numbers obtoined by Hornstein. Fisher sends Hornstein to California, but Reitich ....

■■lllllllllllieilllllllllM • get this Hornstein away from here, and '■ then pet under cover—fast. 'Sou should be safe, but watch yourself. The police • will probably tail you. I'll think out . angle* on this thing, but you and I : have gnt to stick close together now." Merola. scarcely able to believe that , the storm had passed, said: Xo hard feelings their:" Kettich shook his head. "'ice. Carl. That cut deep, calling me I a double-crosser:" ; "Skip it." said Kettich. "I was piqued. [ that's all. You go out and cruise around. ■ Sec just how much 'heat' is on, if you , can.' , Menda left the crime castle, hum- • tiling. Rettich poured himself a drink of > whisky. His cold eyes remained on the [ doorway through which Merola had ' gone. "The -limy little rat." lie muttered. "He --pilled' to me when I put the ) pressure on. He'd spill' to the "cops, .

too. He 'put the finger' on Fisher, he'd put it on me." He started to raise the drink to his mouth. Before it reached there, his moving arm stopped. He looked long and thoughtfully at the glass of whisky. Fisher got under cover promptlv and cleverly. Chief Breslin had had his drivinp: case advanced. Unlike Hornstein, who bad disappeared, he promptly came into Court, pleaded guilty to driving without a license, and took his sentence —three months in the county gaol at Howard. Rhode Island. It was not iike Gloomy -Joe t.» take a sentence mi cheerfully. Chief Breslin determined to Hud nut why. He hit upon a ruse—old but effective. He sent Postal Inspector Carl Chatto to gaol on a false charge. Chatto as a fellow prisoner won Gloomy Joe's confidence. '"What they jrot yon for? ,, he asked Joe one day. '"Driving without a license. Three months." "Too bad." "Xot so bad. I'm under cover on a big job." That made it clear enough. Joe was taking an easy "rap' , to beat a hard one. They had him "on ice" for three months, so they turned to the search for Hornstein. All mail addressed to the Brown University graduate's home was being watched* One day a letter came, postmarked Los Angeles, containing the return address: "Herbert Harris. uul.">, Franklin Avenue, Hollvwood." Breslin checked the handwriting in the letter against samples of Hornstein's handwriting lie had managed to obtain. This was it. He wired postal authorities in California a full description. He rushed a photograph by air mail, and the investigation swung' 3000 miles from the scene of the crime. California's postal G-men went to work. They tailed Harris from his rooming-house. studied him. They 'phoned Breslin: 'Harris is Hornstein."

filMimiillllllllillUllHlM "If you'll let me—" Rettich let jro. Merola »at there couching for several moments. Then, weakly, he began: "It was like thi.-. . . .". Rettich listened to the story and. as he listened. his grey eyes and his face became blank ngain. Merola finished, still badly frightened. "Where is this guy Hornstein now?" Rettieh demanded. "I don't know. Fisher would know." '•The police will check on him. They'll find Fisher is his. pal. That means that F»her will be 'hot.' You. too. I worked on that Fall River job until I had it perfect—letter-perfect. Then you two fatheads—" "Look. Carl,' , pleaded Merola. ,- I know what we did was wrong. You always told us not to take In outsider in. " I didn't want to. I told FUlier, when he —" Rettich waved the explanation aside. "The heat is on." he tsaid. "Now listen, Andy. Pass the word to Fisher to

Death Comes To Andy Merola!

"l did it on the orders of Joe Fisher." ?ronin was jubilant. For the first time b'ieher was directly connected with the mail robbery. The beautiful part of it was that Fisher was already in gaol, where he had gone voluntarily, happily. That made happiness unanimous. Hornetein was "hedging" now. He did not know who eke had been in on the job—an obvious lie, but Cronin was satisfied. The next day he flew Hornstein back. Their 'plane was grounded in Pittsburgh. Chief Breslin, with Inspectors Jcffeivon and Hadriehl and Captain Buchanan of the Providence polic: , . came on to Pittsburgh. For Iβ hours they questioned Hornstein, blew up his lies in Ms face. When the truth'came, it came like a "gusher"' —29 typewritten c?heets of confession; the inside etory you have juet read, of the Fall River' hold-up. For the first time, authorities weni made aware of the fact that the genial, well-dressed, well-to-do "Mr. Ryerson," of Warwick Xeck, was the master mind of America's worst gang-. The young outsider had ripped the ma-k of respectability from the face of "Mr. Ryenson.' , to isave hie own fine neck. Horiistein had named names: Rettich, Andy Merola, (iloomy Joe Fisher. Sonny McGlone, Charley Harrigan and Terrible Tommy Dugan. If the "mob"' learned that he had "squealed," they would '"get"' hiii) if it meant a massacre. Xext day. when he was brought to Boston, the postal inspectors took the utmost precautions. Aβ the train passed through Providence depot, they had him hidden, heavily guarded, in a compartment and disguised with a derby and dark glasses. The Fall River ''job" had been planned in the Federal District of Rhode Island, but committed in the

Federal District of Massachusetts. A clever lawj-er might, Breslin feared, tear a hole through that conflict of jurisdiction. On the advice of L T nited States Attorneys J. Howard McGrath. of Rhode Island, and Francis J. W. Ford, of Massachusetts, he had his men move Hornstein. still heavily disguised, into Rhode Island to validate the warrants in that State. Hornstein was taken not to a crowded Federal Courtroom in Providence, but to LTnited States Attorney McGrath'a home, where a warrant awaited him. He was held, still secretly, as a material witness. Chief Breslin called in Captain Francis J. Buchanan, head of the detective division of the Providence police. Superintendent Edward J. Kelley, of the Rhode Island State Police, temporarily in charge of the Providence Police and Fire Department, readily agreed to Chief Breslin's request for the invaluable services of Captain Buchanan and volunteered himself to help round up the Rettich gang. On April 24. 1935, Chief Breslin called 21 Xew England postal inspectors into his office in the Federal build - ing in Boston. He assigned to each man a part in the round-up. Since llresliii wanted Rettich first, a lieutenant if the Rhode Island State Police was posted on the road near the crime castle. The arrest was to be secret. There was no arrest. The dismal word came back that Carl Rettich was not at home. Had there been a "tip-off?" Breslin called Xew- York and ordered postal inspectors there to search the apartment Rettich maintained at 444. Central Park West. Rettich was not there. "All right," snapped Preslin. '"We'll gut Merola. He ought to know where Rettich is." He had learned that Merola appeared daily at the Majestic Spa and the Pad-

Chief Breslin and Inspector Thomas Cronin flew there. Hornsteiii's landlady said she had a roomer named Herbert Harris. He was busy writing two scenarios. They gave iiis room a "looksee." They found the scenarios. One was titled "The Perfect Crime;" the other, "Love on the Arizona Desert." Breslin found something else—a blotter. There must have been thousands like it in Los Angeles, for it was the conventional kind, with advertising matter about a bank. Oii a "hunch," Breslin pocketed it. He and Cronin went to the bank. He identified himself, produced a photograph of Hornstein. Did an;,- one who looked like that have an account there? A teller recognised the picture. Horusteiu, under the name of Harris (which he signed in Yiddish, pretending he could not write English), had opened an account, depositing bills of th- same denominations as those taken in the Fall River hold-up. After Breslin had to return East. Cronin trailed Hornstein for days. Hornetein was down on his luck, in need of clothes. He went into a Los. Angelos store tried on a suit, then ran out without paying. He was caught and gaoled. He said he was from Seattle. Postal Inspector Cronin stepped in now, with Inspectors Edward Kline and C. D. Lowe of the Los Angeles office and Detective Lieutenant Chester A. Lloyd of the local police department. They dragged contradictory statements out of Hornstein, tore his lies to shreds, assured him that a. minimum of 25 years in Alcatraz would be the reward of a man convicted of armed mail robbery. He did what Chief Breslin knew he would do; he broke down. He admitted that he was Hornstein. He admitted registering the "hot" car, and the pal who had used him for a cafe jiaw h<3 now turned on:

dock Hotel. A second trap was set, to be sprung along in the afternoon of April 25. Early that afternoon a Providence policeman. Lieutenant Detective John M. McGurl, saw a car on Gaspee Street driving in the direction of Massachxi: setts. He saw and recognised the occupants. The driver was Andino Merola. The well-dressed man sitting beside him was Carl Rettieh. Detective McGurl did not knew postal inspectors were looking for either man. The postal inspectors who awaited Meiola's customary arrival at the Majestic Spa or "the Paddock Hotel were disappointed. Xot only had Rettich disappeared but now Merola, apparently, had tied. Again Chief Breslin wondered whether, despite his careful efforts to maintain absolute secrecy, there had been a "tip-off." It was uncanny the way both men had slipped through his fingers, Rettich one day, Merola the next. This gang was a slippery one. It battled with every weapon money could buy. It bribed, it used trick gadgets, it wiped out traitors mercilessly, it did its deadly work wit'] lime, guns, poison, drugs — under leadership of the coolest, cleverest criminal Brcslhi had ever tried to lay lntr.ds on. Two days were gone. He called in his men. "We missed Merola to-day at his hangouts. I want him in here to-mor-row. We know- the license number of his rar—92-011. WVve got a 24-hour guard on his home in Johnston. We may have him yet to-night."' Nevertheless, nest morning -at nine o'clock, Andy Merola still was presumably at large. At ten o'clock the chief and his men tuned in on a radio news broadcast to learn if any of their activities had leaked out. That broadcast revealed no public leak, but it did bring Breslin a shock. An automobile had just been found by Massachusetts police on the shore of Lake Pearl, in Wrentham. In that oar was the unidentified body of a "ride" victim. The car bore Rhode Island registration 92-611. The astounded postal inspectors knew who that unidentified body would be. Cronin went to the morgue at Attleboro', to which it had been removed. It was Merola all rightHe had been murdered the day before— April 25. It was on the afternoon of April 25 that the Providence detective had seen him driving his car with Rettich on the seat beside him. Merola had been shot once, at close range, through the right temple. When the detective saw the car, Rettich had, of course, been sitting on Merola's right. Merola seemingly had put up no fight. There proved to be an excellent reason for this —excellent and, in keeping with the ghastly traditions of Carl Rettich's gang, somewhat sinister in its efficiency. The autopsy disclosed it. He had died in a stupor. In his stomach was found chloral hydrate—knockout drops—"the drink." (Continued next week.)