Moonlight Murder on Lovers' Lane (5 page)

A chauffeur, Frank Csister, came forward to say that neither Beekman nor Stricker had questioned him about what he’d reported seeing on Thursday night, September 14: Two cars parked on Easton Avenue not far from De Russey’s Lane. Neither had license plates and both were unlit except for taillights. Three black men had emerged from one car. This report revived rumors, quashed earlier, of Ku Klux Klan involvement. It was clear that police were now grasping at straws.

Then the identity of the woman who’d been at the courthouse to identify Frances was revealed. She was Jane Gibson, a 50-year-old hog farmer who claimed to have “seen” things.

If anyone had believed this case would be “a cinch,” that person would soon find out just how muddled it truly was.

Chapter 13: The Pig Woman

Jane Gibson, ostensibly a widow, lived with her mentally handicapped son, William, in a converted barn near De Russey’s Lane. She told police that her dogs had started barking around 9 PM the Thursday night of the murders and she’d looked out and seen the figure of a man in her cornfield.

Concerned that he was a thief, she had mounted Jenny, her mule, and ridden after him toward Easton Avenue. When she failed to catch him, she’d cut back across a field. At this time, Jane said, she had spotted four figures near a small tree. Then she’d heard a sharp report and seen one of them fall to the ground.

“Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!” a woman had screamed.

Gibson had turned her mule away, but then heard a volley of shots. She’d looked back and seen another person slump to the ground. Then she heard another woman shout, “Henry!”

Jane said she’d tried telling this story to police after young Hayes was falsely arrested, but they’d ignored her.

Jane Gibson

Although reporters eagerly took down Gibson’s tale, it conflicted with facts from Edward’s autopsy report. The bullet trajectory indicated that he had been on the ground, not standing, when someone had shot him.

Beekman said this information was too vague, but Stricker thought it was solid, and Special Prosecutor Mott backed him up. He called Gibson’s account his most valuable evidence, particularly because Gibson said she’d been close enough that she could identify the killers if she saw them again. Her account coincided with meteorological records about when the moon would have been bright enough for someone to have seen the perpetrators. The records lent her account credibility.

More than one hundred reporters were now milling around the New Brunswick area, looking for stories. Some located Gibson and urged her to tell her tale again and again. She was happy to oblige. Each time, she added more details.

She had noticed an open touring car parked on Easton Avenue, she said, like the one the chauffeur had described. (By now, everyone knew that the Halls owned a touring car and a sedan.) When she’d turned around and cut across a field to get to De Russey’s Lane, she’d seen two men and two women arguing.

A car entering the lane behind her had illuminated them and Gibson saw that one of the women was wearing a long gray coat. A man with a dark mustache and bushy hair was walking with her toward the empty farmhouse.

“How do you explain these notes?” this woman had asked.

Then Gibson added another juicy item: After Edward was shot, she had seen Eleanor flee, but the men had caught and dragged her back, screaming and struggling, before they shot her three times.

But that wasn’t all. Gibson had lost a moccasin as she was riding along, so around 1 AM, she had returned to look for it. As she neared the crabapple tree where she’d seen the slaughter, she heard a woman crying. It was a “big lady” with “white hair” kneeling next to a man on the ground. Reporters believed she was referring to Frances.

Chapter 14: Truth or Lies?

Upon learning Gibson’s account, Henry Stevens gave a statement to the press that he had plenty of eyewitnesses that would affirm that he’d been at the shore that night. Whatever “Henry” had been on De Russey’s Lane on September 14, it had not been him!

Despite Gibson’s insistence that she had told the truth, she turned out to be less credible than she’d seemed. Few people who knew her believed a word she said. She could easily have read the facts in the newspapers, they stated, and then created her version of the story, such as it was. That’s what she was like.

Some acquaintances and neighbors contradicted her outright.

Mrs. A. C. Fraley was among Gibson’s detractors. She ran a boarding house across from the Phillips farm on De Russey’s Lane. When she heard what the Pig Woman had said, she stated that if this account were true, she’d have heard something that night. But she hadn’t. Neither had any of her boarders.

In fact, she’d seen Gibson right after the murders had occurred, but the excitable woman had said nothing. It seemed highly unlikely that she’d keep such shocking information to herself.

Gibson vehemently defended her story. “I’m willing to confront Mrs. Hall face to face,” she declared. In fact, she added, she was sympathetic to a woman who wanted to kill another woman for grabbing her husband. She had nothing against Frances, but she had seen her at the murder scene.

However, reporters soon dug up some information that eroded the Pig Woman’s credibility. She’d said that her deceased husband had been a minister, when in fact he was not dead and he was not a minister. William Easton worked as a toolmaker. But when asked about Jane, he would say only that she had a “brilliant mind.”

It turned out that Gibson had married several different men over the years, although she denied it.

To make matters worse, Gibson claimed that she had told reporters one story, the authorities another, and she would offer a third one on the witness stand. No one knew quite what to believe from this supposed eyewitness, but everyone wanted to know what she might yet add.

By this time, a local carpenter had become an industrious entrepreneur by converting the empty Phillips farmhouse into a murder museum. People waited in line to pay the 25-cent admission. There wasn’t much to see inside, but some of the furnishings went to a New York City museum for a tidy sum.

Two women looking around the stripped crabapple tree for leftover souvenirs discovered two unexploded cartridges, about 100 feet away. Mason ordered state troopers to close off the area and perform a more thorough search.

Crabapple tree

In November, Gibson identified “Henry,” but it was not Henry Stevens whom she named. Instead, it was Henry Carpender, a cousin of the Stevens’ who lived two doors from the Hall mansion. His brother had officially identified Edward’s body. Carpender offered an alibi: An early dinner with his wife at the home of some friends, leaving around 10:30 to go home.

Someone else came forward as well: George Kuhn, who owned a cigar store, reported that Willie Stevens had come in on Sept 19, five days after the murders—long before Gibson had identified Henry Carpender—and asked him to deny rumors that any member of the Hall-Stevens-Carpender family was involved with the murders. This piece of information restored Gibson’s credibility.

There was more. The pastor of Hungarian Reformed Church said that Edward had told him two things: He intended to run off with Eleanor, and also that a relative of Frances had threatened to kill him.

Another odd piece of information that came out was that several hymnals at St. John’s had been desecrated. A page had been removed. The page contained a hymn that Edward and Eleanor had both favored: “Peace, Perfect Peace.” This clue pointed at other suspects—possible rivals of either victim—but no one followed through.

On November 20, another grand jury convened. After five days and 67 witnesses, the matter was laid over. Although the authorities assured the public that they would continue to investigate, the case of the minister and the choir singer quickly went cold.

It would be nearly four years before new information surfaced that once again fueled the fire.

Chapter 15: Further Intrigue

Louise Geist had worked as a maid for the Halls during the time of the murders. She had then married Arthur Riehl, but in July 1926, Riehl filed for an annulment. Having split from her, he felt free—even compelled—to reveal what he knew. He claimed that Louise had told Frances Hall on September 14, 1922, that her husband was planning to run off with Eleanor Mills. Louise had accompanied Frances and Willie that night, driven by their chauffeur, and had received $5,000 to keep quiet about what she knew.

When Louise heard what her estranged husband had said, she denied it all.

“He’s lying!” she insisted.

Of course, she had reason to protect herself. If she had covered for murder, she was an accomplice.

The newspapers raced to outdo one another in tabloid sensationalism. Several reporters wrote about this new tidbit, but it wasn’t the only item of interest.

Trooper Henry Dickman, who had been independently investigating the murders, had mysteriously disappeared in June 1923. Some said he had been killed or paid to leave the state. But he turned up in Alcatraz, imprisoned for desertion.

Middlesex County prosecutor John Toolan had now replaced Stricker, and he stated that he had no intention of re-opening the case. He lobbed the ball over to Somerset County, where it belonged. Francis Bergen had succeeded Beekman, now deceased. He decided to look at the case for himself.

Somerset County Courthouse

Soon thereafter, Bergen issued a warrant for Frances Hall’s arrest. She posted bail and hired Robert McCarter to represent her. He invited Clarence E. Case to be assistant chief defense counsel. Together, they were the equivalent of today’s dream team.

The state replaced Bergen with the more experienced Alexander Simpson, a savvy lawyer, from Hudson County. At just 5 feet tall, he was an amusing figure, but he knew how to make his slight stature work for him.

Simpson soon discovered that a considerable amount of evidence had been lost or destroyed, including the autopsy reports and Willie Stevens’ gun, which had been returned to him. Reverend Hall’s eyeglasses had been wiped clean and witnesses had been badgered to change their stories. Simpson still had a staunch eyewitness. He interviewed Jane Gibson and announced his intention to proceed with a trial. She would be his star.

Shortly thereafter, James Mills admitted that he had indeed known about the affair his wife was having and that he’d threatened divorce, but had not had the time or money for it.

Suddenly, the stage was set. All of the usual suspects were still in play. Some new ones were about to be added.

Chapter 16: Another Grand Jury

Arrest warrants were issued for Willie Stevens and Henry Carpender. The hearing took four days. After 50 witnesses testified, bail was denied for both men. Simpson believed that Frances had gotten caught up in a murder, but that she herself had not killed anyone, so he would treat her with a lighter hand. Not everyone shared Simpson’s opinion.

Officials launched another investigation to try to break Henry Stevens’ alibi. Detectives dug up a brief interview with a man who’d been only peripherally associated with the case in 1922. St. John’s vestryman Ralph Gorsline was rumored to have once had an affair with Eleanor, but neither Beekman nor Stricker had given this much thought.