The Mammoth Book of Bizarre Crimes (54 page)

Gentleman Girard

Henri Girard was a gentleman charmer who experimented with bacterial cultures.

Forty-six-year-old Girard was a man of means who liked to entertain his friends lavishly while discussing art, literature, music and the finer things of life. His suave manner, which worked on both sexes, earned him the name “Gentleman Girard”.

He worked as an insurance agent in Montreuil-sous-Bois, near Paris, and indulged his interest in science and especially bacteriology. In 1909 he met Louis Pernotte, an insurance broker and man of modest wealth, who was completely swept up by Girard’s charm. Pernotte granted his new friend power of attorney and had his life insured for 300,000 francs. Despite the fact that he had a wife and children, Pernotte’s instructions were, that in the event of his death, the insurance was to be paid to Girard.

In August 1912, Pernotte and his family went on holiday and they became ill with what appeared to be typhoid. On returning to Paris to convalesce, Pernotte received daily visits from his
friend, Girard. Claiming to have some medical knowledge, he offered to treat Pernotte with injections, which he carried out in the presence of Mme Pernotte whom he reassured with the words, “Notice, madam, that it is quite definitely your own syringe. You observe that I have nothing in my hands.”

Louis Pernotte died on 1 December from a cardiac embolism. Girard lost no time in collecting the insurance and also informed Mme Pernotte that she owed him 200,000 francs.

In the years that followed, two of Girard’s acquaintances became ill after taking out life insurance policies. One was sick with typhoid fever but survived and the other also survived after a bout of food poisoning.

Girard served in the French army during the First World War and was based with a transport unit in Paris. This enabled him to continue with his bacteriology experiments for which he bought quantities of typhoid cultures from wholesale chemists.

In April 1918, Girard met Madame Monin who had been widowed as a result of the war. He advised her to take out life insurance. They met socially and, during an encounter at his apartment, Girard offered her a glass of wine. When Mme Monin left, she made it no further than the Metro where she collapsed and died.

Girard came under suspicion and he was arrested on 21 August. A search of his apartment revealed his interest in bacteriology. There were culture dishes of typhoid bacilli and other toxic agents and evidence that he had been experimenting with poisonous fungi. An entry in his diary around the time of Louis Pernotte’s death read, “Poisons; prepare bottle, tubes, rubber gloves; buy microbe books.” Another entry for May 1917 read, “Mimiche Dinner - mushrooms”.

When arrested, Girard declared, “Yes, I have always been unhappy, no one has ever tried to understand me: I will always be misunderstood - abnormal, as I have been called - and for all that I am good, with a very warm heart.” The investigation into “Gentleman Girard’s” crimes lasted three years but, in May 1921, before he faced trial at the Paris Assizes, he committed
suicide, thereby depriving the guillotine of a probable victim. It was reported that he made a full confession.

“. . . We’re Alive With Rats”

Death from poisoning was always lurking in the shadows when Lydia Sherman was around.

Sherman married Edward Struck in the 1840s and they lived in New York where they brought up six children. When Struck was accused of neglecting his duties as a police officer he was discharged from the service and quickly slid into depression. With six children to bring up, a sick husband and little income, life for Lydia was tough so she decided to lighten the burden by disposing of Edward. In 1864 she bought some arsenic, explaining to the pharmacist, “. . . we’re alive with rats!” Edward died after a short illness and cause of death was given as consumption. In quick succession over the next two years, her children, aged between nine months and eighteen years, all died of illnesses variously described as fever, typhoid and bronchitis. Their mother appeared appropriately grief-stricken, collected on the insurance and no questions were asked.

In 1868, she met and married a wealthy farmer, Dennis Harlbut, and moved to New Haven, Connecticut. The widow Lydia had been recommended to work for him as housekeeper but within a few days they were married and within months, he was dead. She acquired her late husband’s farm and monetary assets.

Her next move was to secure employment as housekeeper to Horatio Nelson Sherman and his two children. In no time at all she became Mrs Sherman. Shortly afterwards, one-year-old Frank died, followed by his sixteen-year-old sister, Ada. As if this was not tragedy enough, Horatio also became ill in May 1871, complaining of burning pains in his stomach.

The doctor was called and Sherman said he was having “one of his turns”. Lydia had been dosing him with medicine administered in cups of chocolate. Dr Beardsley became suspicious, especially in light of the deaths of the two children.
He called in a second opinion but Sherman’s illness remained a mystery until he died on 12 May.

The doctor required a post-mortem and arsenic was found in Horatio Sherman’s body. This discovery prompted the exhumation of the bodies of the two children and, again, arsenic was found. A further line of investigation led to the exhumation of Dennis Harlbut’s body, which it was no surprise to learn was riddled with arsenic.

Lydia Sherman was charged with the murder of her third husband and sent for trial in April 1872. She claimed to be innocent and her defence was that she lacked motive. The evidence of arsenic poisoning in his case was irrefutable but it was also known that he had bought poison to kill off rats. Lydia’s previous history and the trail of death that seemed to follow her made suicide an unlikely cause of her husband’s demise.

She was found guilty of second-degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. She made a confession, owning up to eleven murders and, of her first husband, Edward Struck, she said that she “put him out of the way”. Lydia Sherman served her sentence in Wethersfield Prison where she died on 16 May 1878.

“. . . You Must Die”

Philip Barton Key was the famous son of a famous father. Key senior wrote
The Star Spangled Banner
. His son was District Attorney for the District of Columbia, Washington, USA.

On 27 February 1859, Philip Barton Key was walking down Monroe Place near Lafayette Square when he stopped to wave at someone in the upper windows of one of the houses. The residence belonged to Congressman Daniel Sickles who, at that moment, was digesting reports about his wife’s infidelity with Key.

Enraged at the idea of the man who had cuckolded him standing outside his house, Sickles rushed downstairs and out into the street. He pursued Key and confronted him in Madison Avenue, where, gun in hand, he accused him of dishonourable conduct and said “. . . you must die”.

Key tried to evade his accuser by dodging behind a tree, pleading, “Don’t shoot.” Sickles was not listening. Blinded with rage he fired at Key and missed. His second shot struck home and his victim fell to the ground. He then emptied his weapon into Key until the gun jammed. This was a very public incident witnessed by several bystanders. The mortally wounded Key was carried to the National Club where he died before medical assistance could be given.

Daniel Sickles was arraigned for murder in April 1859. The Congressman had discovered what everyone else seemed to know, which was that his wife was having a passionate affair with Key. His discovery had prompted him to consider the idea of challenging Key to a duel but he was overtaken by events.

At his trial in Washington City Hall, Robert Ould, Key’s successor as District Attorney, led the prosecution and emphasized the particularly heinous nature of Sickle’s act which had been committed on the Sabbath. Eyewitnesses testified to the deliberate nature of the shooting. For the defence, it was argued that Sickles had simply exercised his moral right as a husband by slaying the man who dared to defile his marriage bed. There were numerous biblical references and quotes from both Old and New Testaments about charity and retribution.

The thrust of the defence was that Sickles had experienced such provocation as to unbalance his mind in a way that exculpated his crime. The jury were inclined to agree. After an hour’s recess, they returned a verdict of not guilty. The acquittal received a mixed reception. Many Washingtonians were shocked that such a cold-blooded public killing was judged to be without guilt.

Sickles’ wife, Teresa, who had told the court what a wicked woman she had been, was destroyed by the consequences of her infidelity and died eight years later. The Congressman’s career was in tatters, although he achieved some recognition as a Union General in the Civil War.

Death Cap

Three deaths by poisoning using death cap mushrooms led investigators to unveil a plan for deadly revenge. The method was inspired by a religious sect.

In February 1979, Réné Blum, the district police chief at Mézière in northern France, was taken ill during a celebratory lunch. He collapsed and died and the post-mortem indicated that he might have been poisoned. Blum’s death was followed by that of two others, the town mayor and secondary school headmaster.

Three deaths of prominent people, all associated with meals, dinner or lunch, and all showing similar post-mortem indications, presented the police with a mystery. Laboratory tests on the victims’ stomach contents showed the presence of the death cap mushroom, mixed with edible fungi.
Amanita phalloides
has a fierce reputation as a deadly poison and accounts for many accidental deaths. One or two death caps will certainly kill an adult.

The question uppermost in the minds of investigators was whether there was any link between the three deaths. While exploring this avenue of enquiry, it was discovered that a mixture of death cap and other fungi had been previously used in the 1930s by a religious sect in Belgium. This group used a mushroom concoction as a tonic and a means of attaining a higher state of divine awareness.

Enquiries received a fresh impetus after a fourth poisoning when a woman librarian collapsed during dinner. Fortunately, prompt action saved her life and she was able to provide police with the linking evidence for which they had been searching. It appeared that the three dead men and the librarian who survived had all been members of the community’s picnic committee, which arranged an annual children’s day out.

It seemed that recriminations had arisen from the committee’s decision not to award the bus contract for the children’s outing to the usual firm. The head of the bus firm, Anna Fort, remonstrated angrily with the mayor over the loss of the contract. Meanwhile, the laboratory testing samples
from the poisoning victims came up with the observation that traces of bronze indicated the toxic mixture had been prepared in a bronze container.

When detectives called on Anna Fort, they found that she was a thirty-year-old woman who helped run her invalid father’s bus firm but who also worked part-time for a catering company. It was also made known that she was subject to epileptic seizures and given to violent outbursts. While questioning Fort, an astute detective noticed a bronze pot in the kitchen and also a picture of a woman named Adèle Jouve. Investigators began to feel that their enquiries were getting somewhere, especially with the knowledge that Jouve was the founder of the Belgian sect that promoted the use of toxic concoctions.

Questioned further, Anna Fort broke down and described how she targeted her victims out of revenge. She enlisted the help of Max Fargue, one of her firm’s drivers. With careful timing, the pair turned up at the murder venue where Fargue created a diversion at the front door. This allowed Fort to slip round to the back door, enter the kitchen and add her deadly poison to the plate of food waiting to be eaten by her intended victim.

Fort was judged to be mentally unfit to stand trial for her crimes and was committed to an institution for the criminally insane. Fargue was convicted of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment.

“. . . If I Did It . . .”

Flora Haskell was a single mother who made a living doing other people’s laundry. She lived in a small cottage in Salisbury in the UK with her twelve-year-old son, Teddy. Despite the loss of one leg below the knee, he got around on crutches and even played football. He was well known locally and was popular on account of his cheery personality.

On 31 October 1908, Teddy went to bed after supper at around 9.00 p.m. At about 10.30, Percy Noble, Flora Haskell’s nephew, knocked on the door of her cottage intent on repaying
a small loan. He was greeted by his aunt, clearly distraught, who cried out to him,“Go and stop that man! He has killed my poor Teddy! Go for a doctor quick!”

The boy was found lying on his bed as if asleep, except that his throat had been cut. His mother explained hysterically that she had encountered a man coming down the stairs towards the front door and he threw a knife at her, spattering her with blood. Stirred by Flora Haskell’s story of a murdering intruder, the men of the locality formed themselves into search parties. Armed with sticks and lanterns, they scoured the surrounding lanes.

The searches came to nothing and the local police sought help from Scotland Yard. Detectives questioned Mrs Haskell and learned from her that a man had called at the house the day before Teddy died asking about lodgings. She told officers that money was missing from a locked drawer, which had been forced open. Flora Haskell was arrested and charged with murder. Teddy’s funeral was well attended and a defence fund was set up for his mother.

Haskell appeared on trial at Devizes Assizes in February 1909. The prosecution maintained that she had murdered her child, “in one of those extraordinary abnormal conditions which overtake human beings sometimes.” This was perhaps a veiled hint that she had killed the boy because of his disability. She was judged to be perfectly sane.

The prosecution’s expert witness testified that the blood on Haskell’s clothing could only have got there if she had been the murderer. Rayner Goddard, later Lord Chief Justice of England, conducted her defence. He asked the jury if they were prepared to “condemn a fellow creature to death on the evidence of the theories of doctors.” As events turned out, the jury could not agree a verdict and a second trial was called for.