The Crime of the Century Part 17

"I want you to keep a rig in readiness for a friend of mine to-night,"

he said, "and I don't want you to say a word about it. When he calls for it give it to him, and I'll be responsible for it."

"All right," was Dinan's response. "I will have one on hand." The liveryman said afterward that he did not pay much attention to the remark that he was to "keep still about it," from the fact that Coughlin was often in the habit of hiring cabs and rigs to do detective work. In fact, he did not pay any attention to it at all, as there was nothing out of the common in his manner or conversation.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIVERYMAN DINAN'S STABLE WHERE THE WHITE HORSE AND BUGGY WERE HIRED.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WHITE HORSE AND BUGGY.]

The detective's "friend" was on hand at the livery stable a few minutes after seven that evening. Seen under the dim gas-light; he was a man about thirty-five years old, of dark complexion, with a black mustache and a four weeks' growth of beard. He was rather undersized, and weighed in the neighborhood of 125 pounds. A small, soft felt hat, with the front pulled down well over his eyes, covered his head, and a seedy, faded gray or yellow overcoat was b.u.t.toned up close around him. A few moments before, Dinan's blacksmith had ordered a high-strung bay horse to be hitched up, and while this was being done, the two men strolled up the street to an adjacent cigar store. While they were absent, the stranger entered, and going to the back of the stable, told the hostler that he had come for the rig that "Dan Coughlin had ordered for him."

Dinan returned at this juncture, and in reply to a question, ordered his employe to hitch up the white horse. When the stranger saw the color of the animal, he objected violently. He did not want it, and expressed a preference for a carriage horse that stood in its stall. He was told that if the animal were put in single harness it would kill him. Next he wanted the horse that was being put into harness for the blacksmith. The latter was willing enough, in his good nature, to give way, but Dinan was stubborn. He knew, he said, how much the black horse had done that day, but he did not know how much was before the white one after it had gone out. Failing to get the white horse the man proceeded to find fault with the buggy. He wanted a better one, but was told that he would have to take it or nothing. At this he scowled. Then he wanted to know why the side-curtains had not been attached. By this time Dinan, who was in an independent mood, not attaching much importance to the fellow or caring for his trade, was on his mettle, and in a pointed manner he replied that he could not give any curtains, that he did not know where they were, and that it would take too long to look for them. It was dark anyway, he added, and n.o.body could see him, but if he wished to shield himself from view he could put up the top. Growling something that could not be understood, the stranger adopted the suggestion, and, getting into the vehicle, drove out into the street. He turned north on Clark Street, heading direct for the Windsor Theatre building. It was then about 8:15. The horse had not been out before that day, and as Dinan was anxious to see how it would act he went out into the street, two of his employes going with him. They watched it until it had crossed Chestnut Street, about a block and a half distant, when it was lost in the darkness. The horse, however, seemed to behave admirably. Dinan was absent when the same man brought back the rig between 9:15 and 9:30 the same evening. Napier Moreland, the hostler, was in the rear barn at the time, and the man, driving in the rig to the carriage-walk, hurried out of the door without stopping to find any one to care for it. Moreland barely caught sight of him as he turned the corner of the door. The horse was found to be extremely warm, as if it had been driven fast and a good distance. Its description at the time, as it will live in the history of the case, was as follows:

"A white horse, standing about fifteen and a half hands high, rather long limbed, long body, little, slim and long, rangy neck. Not a mark by which he could be identified. Clean as a whistle, neither spavin-boned nor collar-boned nor ring-boned. Buggy three quarter-seat, Columbus, Ohio, manufacture; side bar rather low, not much higher than some phaetons; old, trimmed with blue cloth, and provided with a cotton whip."

DINAN GOES TO SCHAACK.

The livery-man thought nothing further of the circ.u.mstance until early the following Monday morning, when the excitement over the disappearance of the physician had commenced to manifest itself. The description of the white horse and buggy which Frank Scanlan--and, as it subsequently proved, Mrs. Conklin--had seen driven up, and which carried the doctor away, arrested his attention, and recalling the event of Sat.u.r.day night, he determined to go to Captain Schaack and acquaint him with the facts.

At the same time he had little idea that it was his own white horse that had been mixed up in the affair. Only a coincidence, he reasoned, especially in view of to the fact that it was Detective Coughlin that had hired it; while yet at the same time, it might prove be the best policy to tell what he knew. In the meantime, several police officers in uniform had called at the stable to learn if a white horse had been hired on the Sat.u.r.day night, and the hostler, acting under instructions that they were never to tell who took out horses ordered by the Captain or his detectives, answered each inquiry in the negative. It was between nine and ten o'clock when Dinan went up to the station to see Captain Schaack. On the steps he met Coughlin.

"h.e.l.lo!" said the detective. "Who are you looking for?"

"Captain Schaack," replied the liveryman.

"What for?" demanded Coughlin. "What are you so excited about?"

"Well," was the reply, "there have been so many inquiries made about the white horse that was out on Sat.u.r.day night--the one that I let your friend have--that I want to tell him all about it."

Coughlin's face paled perceptibly. The muscles twitched, and he nervously chewed his mustache. For a few moments he stood deep in thought, and then, turning to Dinan, he said:

"Look here, there is no use making a fuss about this thing. You keep quiet about it. Me and Cronin have not been good friends, and it might get me into difficulty or trouble. Everybody knows he and I were enemies."

Although the livery-man appeared to acquiesce in the detective's suggestion, and went away for the time being, he was more than ever determined in his mind to see the captain. He did not propose to "keep quiet about it." Accordingly, an hour later he went again to the station. He was told that the official was home at dinner, and he made a bee-line for the house. Schaack was there, and into his attentive ear Dinan poured his tale of the white horse, the buggy and the peculiar customer.

SCHAACK'S PECULIAR MOVEMENTS.

What possessed the doughty "burgomaster" (as Capt. Schaack was familiarly called by the residents of the North Division) to follow the course that he did at this juncture, pa.s.ses all comprehension. On the witness-stand before the coroner's jury, some days later, he could only justify himself by the lame statement that, at the time, he did not believe that Cronin had been killed. He might also have admitted, and with truth, that he had placed absolute and implicit confidence in his subordinates, only--as had been the fate of many as good a man before him--to be deceived and betrayed. At any rate his treatment of the information, placed at his disposal by Dinan, was of such a character as to demonstrate so great a neglect of duty, both toward the chief of police and his subordinates and the public, that, when its full extent became known, he was, notwithstanding his previous record, first suspended from duty and subsequently dismissed from the force.

What Capt. Schaack should have done--what any other official of his own, or subordinate rank in the city would have done--was to have gone without unnecessary delay to the chief of police and acquainted him with the disclosures that the liveryman had made. Instead of this, however, upon returning to the station, he sent for Coughlin himself, the last man of all men, who should have been informed of what had transpired.

When the detective responded, he was asked if Dinan's story was true, and replied that it was. Pressed for further particulars, he said that he had hired the rig for a man named Thomas Smith. Of this individual he knew very little, except that he had come to the station and introduced himself as a friend of Coughlin's brother, who lived in Hanc.o.c.k, Michigan. He had met this man Smith several times; and on the Sat.u.r.day morning the visitor had asked him to procure him a horse and buggy for that evening, as he (Smith), not being known to the livery-men thereabouts, might experience some difficulty in securing one. This the detective protested, was the entire extent of his connection with the affair. He did not know what use the man had made of the rig, where he had gone, or what time he returned. In fact he had not set eyes on him since the day in question. Extraordinary as it may seem, Capt. Schaack accepted this story without question, and contented himself with ordering the detective to go out and find the man, and bring him in for examination. Coughlin promised to do so. Two days went by, and he failed to report. Schaack then sent for him again, and asked him if he had found his friend. Coughlin answered in the negative, and said that he did not know where to lay his hands on him, unless he happened to run across him in a saloon. This was not satisfactory.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DETECTIVE MICHAEL WHALEN.]

"You go and find that man," said Schaack, "or it may be bad for you."

Detective Michael Whalen was also a.s.signed to a.s.sist his brother officer in the search, and day after day, they tramped the streets in sunshine and rain; and scoured the saloons for the mythical "Smith."

While this hunt was going on, Capt. Schaack had gone one evening to the livery stable, procured the white horse and buggy, and, having driven to the residence of the Conklins, asked the lady of the house whether she identified the animal and vehicle as the same that had taken the physician away. Later on there was a wide difference in the reports of this proceeding. The captain insisted that Mrs. Conklin declared that she utterly failed to recognize the rig, and that she said positively that it was not the same horse, as the one driven by the mysterious stranger--was better looking, and a faster traveler. On the other hand Mrs. Conklin was empathic in the declaration that she had said nothing of the kind, but had told the official that there was a close resemblance between the two rigs. Schaack also went to Dinan and obtained a description of the supposed Smith, and again this description, as taken from Schaack's notes, was as different from what the livery-man had told everybody else as light is from darkness, and tallied in no particular with that narrated by Mrs. Conklin and Frank Scanlan. That night, when Coughlin and Whalen presented themselves with the usual report that Smith had not been found, the captain acquainted them with the result of his enquiries, expressed himself as satisfied that there was no connection between the two rigs, and ordered them to drop the Cronin case and report for general duty.

"Its lucky for you," he said to Coughlin, "that it wasn't the same rig that your friend took out that carried off the doctor. It might have been a serious affair."

Coughlin smiled grimly, but said nothing. A couple of nights later, while the detective and Whalen were walking down Clark street, Coughlin met a man who appeared to know him. He did not offer to introduce him to his fellow officer, and the latter strolled on, while the two men engaged in conversation. When Coughlin rejoined Whalen he said that the man he had talked with was the mysterious "Smith," and that he was on the point of leaving for New Mexico. Whalen turned round to look at him, but he had disappeared. That night Coughlin told the same story to Capt.

Schaack, and the latter dismissed the matter, with the remark, "all right," never even so much as thinking to ask his subordinate whether he had asked the man where he went with the rig that night, or why he had not brought him to the station. To Dinan the detective repeated the same story, mentioning Prescott as the point in New Mexico to which the man was going. He also said that he had collected three dollars from him to pay for the use of the rig, but that he had spent it, and would settle on the first of the month.

COUGHLIN UNDER ARREST.

But, although he held his peace until Coughlin had left, the livery-man was anything but satisfied in his own mind, and the more he thought of it the stronger he was convinced that the matter had not been properly investigated. Finally he went to Horace Elliott, chief of detectives, with his story. Elliott took him to Chief of Police Hubbard. The head of the force listened attentively, and shrewd and experienced as he was, recognized the importance of the disclosure. Dinan's description of Coughlin's friend was compared with that of the supposed messenger from O'Sullivan's ice house, and found to correspond in almost every particular. With the chief to think was to act. Instructions were sent to the Chicago avenue station that Coughlin was to remain indoors, and all that day he was so closely watched that if he had attempted to escape he could not have left the station without being placed under arrest. In the afternoon there was a conference at police headquarters, in which Mayor Cregier, Chief Hubbard, Corporation Council Hutchinson, Lawyer W. J. Hynes, Col. W. P. Rend, and others interested in the prosecution partic.i.p.ated. Coughlin was sent for, and for two hours he was subjected to a rigid and merciless examination. His replies were evasive and unsatisfactory. Several times when hard pressed he refused to answer at all, and he frequently contradicted himself and became so confused that it was evident that he was endeavouring to conceal the truth. When he left the room the conference was resumed, and a general opinion was expressed that the detective had a guilty knowledge of the murderous plot by which Dr. Cronin had lost his life, and that he should be treated as an ordinary criminal. He was taken from the place in the same patrol wagon that had carried so many of his own prisoners, and that night he slept in "Criminals Row" of the armory station. Before the conference had ended, orders were also issued suspending Detective Michael Whalen, who was a first cousin to iceman O'Sullivan, for neglect of duty.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHIEF OF POLICE HUBBARD.]

THE SMITH STORY DISPROVED.

Coughlin's friend, Smith, put in an appearance at police headquarters of his own volition, the following day, only, however, to give a flat refutation of the story told by the detective. "Willard F." instead of "Thomas" Smith was his name. He had come to Chicago from Michigan four years before; had traveled thence pretty well all over the west and south, and eventually had returned to the city. When a boy in Houghton, half a mile from Hanc.o.c.k, he had lived next door to Coughlin, and after coming to Chicago the second time, he had called upon him at the station. On the last occasion he had said something about having been in New Mexico. He volunteered the statement that he was the man that Coughlin had met on Clark street when the latter was in company with Whalen, but strongly denied that he had ever asked his friend to hire a rig; that he had never used one in Chicago, or that he was identified in any way with Irish secret societies. In fact, although born in Michigan, his parents were native born Germans.

THE CASE AGAINST O'SULLIVAN.

No doubt could any longer exist but that the suspicions that had been entertained that Detective Coughlin was, to a greater or lesser degree, connected with the crime, was well founded. It was equally certain that, by the same process of reasoning, O'Sullivan was largely in the toils.

Many a man and woman in foreign countries had been sent to the gallows on evidence far less circ.u.mstantial than that with which the iceman was confronted at this stage of the case. It was beyond all question, that about the middle of April, more than a month prior to the disappearance of Dr. Cronin, he had asked John A. Mahoney, a Lake View Justice of the Peace, to introduce him to the physician, giving as a reason that he wanted to make a contract with some good surgeon to take care of the men who were employed on his ice wagons, during the hot season. The Justice, either not knowing or not remembering that O'Sullivan employed but three or four men, readily consented, and the two men went to the Physician's office in the Chicago Opera House block. Here after considerable conversation, a contract was agreed upon, by which O'Sullivan undertook to pay Dr. Cronin $8.00 per month, the latter agreeing to attend the iceman's employees when injured, as well as any children that might be hurt by his wagons. In this agreement however, there was one remarkable and significant stipulation. It was to the effect that the Physician should respond to any call that might be made, by any person presenting one of O'Sullivan's cards, and, in order that there should be no mistake on this point, the ice dealer after the interview in question handed one of his cards to the Physician. The latter placed it in the frame of the mirror of his private office, and there, a silent witness, yet ready to testify in trumpet tones, it was found on the day succeeding the night that he was decoyed to his death.

It was commented upon at the time as remarkable that Dr. Cronin should not have made some inquiries when the matter of the contract was broached. So far as was known by his friends no arrangement of this kind had ever before been suggested to him in the course of his many years of practice. At this very time, moreover, he was in constant dread, or at least antic.i.p.ation, of being murdered. Yet, although the financial consideration mentioned was purely nominal, he went into the matter as a speculator goes into a blind pool. Apparently it never suggested itself to him, to inquire why O'Sullivan should desire to make such a contract. He had no ice houses, his business consisting in retailing ice which he purchased at wholesale rates from various shippers. He employed but a very few men and there was no evidence that any of his wagons had created havoc among the little ones on the North Side of the city. His business was almost exclusively with private families who purchased their ice in small quant.i.ties, rarely over 100 pounds at a time. His men ran little or no risk of getting hurt, and even if they did, the iceman would in no way have been responsible. a.s.suming, however, that he was more than ordinary solicitous about his employees, and willing to a.s.sume the responsibility for their care in sickness, why should he have selected the Irish physician? Why should he have picked out a man whose office was nearly six miles from his barns, when fully two score of experienced surgeons were to be found all over the town of Lake View, to say nothing of those who resided at short distances along the route from the suburb to the residence of the Conklins? There were other pertinent questions. Why did O'Sullivan need an introduction to Dr. Cronin? He had met him before, in fact had partic.i.p.ated in a meeting of a Camp of the Clan-na-Gael when the physician had a.s.sisted in the initiation of several new members. He had no favor to ask, and even offered to make the first month's payment on the contract in advance and to always pay in advance. Why then should he have induced Justice Mahoney to ride five miles in order that the justice might introduce a man already known to Dr. Cronin, who had no favor to ask and who simply desired to make a contract decidedly unfavorable to himself?

Again, why was the use of a card necessary? Was there any danger that outside parties would take advantage of a contract that they knew nothing about, and have their broken limbs or internal injuries attended to free of charge on O'Sullivan's account? What protection could a card guarantee? Would not the word of a caller have answered just as well?

Right here additional facts were woven into the web. Two days prior to the date on which the contract was made, O'Sullivan had called at the office of the Lake View Record, a weekly newspaper published in the town, and obtained some three thousand business cards which he had ordered to be printed about the middle of April. They differed slightly from the old card which he had used, but had the same general appearance. The same cut of an ice wagon was in the center, printed in red ink. The heading however, was "Sullivan Ice Company," instead of "P.

O'Sullivan & Co.," the heading of the old card. This was May 2nd. Why did O'Sullivan need these cards. He must have had full a thousand of the old stock on hand. What did O'Sullivan do with these cards? Who did he give them to?

On Sat.u.r.day, May the 4th, at 7:30 in the evening, a man had driven to the residence of Dr. Cronin and presented one of O'Sullivan's business cards, of the kind printed less than a week before. This man said that one of O'Sullivan's men was dangerously hurt. The physician was hurried out of the house, was driven rapidly north and was never again seen alive by his friends. This was but three days after the remarkable contract had been made, and five days after the cards left by the stranger had been placed in O'Sullivan's hands by the bookkeeper at the office of the Lake View newspaper. Who was this strange man? How did he get one of O'Sullivan's new cards? How did he know of the contract? If he had learned of it through one of the three men who were present at the time, how did he happen to get one of the new cards? Would he not, if he had been interested in the removal of Dr. Cronin, have hunted for and found one of the old cards on the same day or following forenoon?

Little wonder was it that this remarkable combination of circ.u.mstances directed suspicion against O'Sullivan, especially when it was further remembered that he was seen in conversation with the mysterious tenants of the Carlson cottage. a.n.a.lyzed once more the case against him was considered quite as strong, even if not stronger than that against the detective. Accordingly it was decided to place both men under arrest.

Early on the morning of May 27th O'Sullivan was notified that his presence was desired at the Lake View Police Station. When he responded he found himself a prisoner. During the day an information was sworn out by John Joseph Cronin, the brother of the physician, charging Coughlin and O'Sullivan, together with a number of persons whose names were unknown, with the murder of Dr. Cronin. Upon this information warrants were issued, and shortly before midnight Coughlin was arraigned before Justice Kersten at the Chicago Avenue Station, to the bar of which the detective, during his four years of service, had brought many scores of prisoners. Yet, even in this critical hour, he did not seem to feel his position, but smiled and chatted pleasantly and in a light hearted manner, with his former companions on the force. No evidence was submitted, the prosecution requesting a postponement, and by agreement the case was adjourned for a week, an application for the admittance of Coughlin to bail being peremptorially refused. A patrol wagon conveyed the detective to the County jail and here he was a.s.signed to Cell 25, in what was known as "Murderers' Row." While these proceedings were being taken, O'Sullivan, at the Lake View Station, was being closely interrogated by Captains Wing and Schaak, Lieutenant Schieuttler and Squire Boldenbeck, who at that time was mayor of the little town. The latter, who had considerable influence over the iceman, urged him to tell all that he knew, but the prisoner was stubborn, and it was only by dint of persistent questioning that he was led to confess that he had known Coughlin for years, that, although he had persuaded Justice Mahoney to introduce him to Dr. Cronin, he had met the physician before, that he (O'Sullivan) was a member of the Clan-na-gael in good standing; and that he had talked with the Frank Williams who had rented the a.s.sa.s.sin's den. More than this he would not say, and, much to his own surprise, he found himself within an hour the occupant of a cell adjoining that of Detective Coughlin in the County Jail.

INDICTED BY THE GRAND JURY.

At this time the Grand Jury for the May term of court was in regular session, and on the following morning--that of May 28th--the murder of Dr. Cronin was brought to its attention. Very few witnesses were examined, although the inquiry lasted nearly ten hours. The Carlsons told their story, and Mertes the milkman, Justice Mahoney and several others, added testimony which bore heavily against the imprisoned men.

Nothing was adduced against Woodruff but his own confession, which was considered sufficient for existing purposes. The outcome of the investigation was an indictment against O'Sullivan, Coughlin and Woodruff, on three counts, (1st) of a conspiracy to commit murder with a sharp instrument; (2nd) of a conspiracy to commit murder with a blunt instrument; (3rd) of a conspiracy to commit murder with some instrument to the jury unknown. On May 31st the three accused men were formally arraigned before Judge Williamson, and, after being furnished with copies of the indictments returned against them were remanded to jail to await the outcome of the coroner's inquiry.

CHAPTER IX.