Murder in Battle Creek

by Blaine L. Pardoe

  With so many links to the Battle Creek area and a propensity to favor a knife as a weapon, it appeared that Workman could potentially be linked to Daisy’s death. But it was not meant to be. Records produced by Workman confirmed that in January 1963, at the time of Zick murder, he was back living with his wife in Big Rapids. Workman’s fingerprints were submitted to the state police crime lab for comparison against the sole print recovered from the Zick’s Pontiac. They were not a match. It became another disappointment in a long series faced by the investigators.

  After the investigation into Workman, the leads slowed to an agonizing trickle. Only once a month did something come in that Detective Conn could even consider following up on. Most were vague dead-ends, such as the tip that came in on March 3, 1964. While stopped at a train crossing in Battle Creek (a common occurrence), a female driver was stunned when her male passenger (who owned the car) suddenly erupted in anger, kicking at the door and punching the window with his fists. As she talked to him, he assured her that he didn’t want to kill her. At the same time, he mentioned a woman named “Zink” or something similar to that. The man kept on punching the window in frustration, talking about the woman, referring to her as a “bitch.” The only identification provided beyond his age (thirty-eight to thirty-nine), his glasses and his light brown hair was that the man was named Jerry and he frequented the Idlehour and Verona taverns and Speeds Restaurant. She offered to contact the police when she saw Jerry again to point him out.

  Another lead came from Detective Kolahmainen of the state police intelligence unit. He had read a newspaper article about the murder of a young woman in Chicago who had been viciously stabbed. Her killer was one Robert Engler, who had been captured in Uniontown, Pennsylvania. Detective Kolahmainen surmised that there might be a link between this stabbing and that of Daisy, a remarkable bit of thinking given that this was the era before the internet or even computers being used by police. The Uniontown police mailed a copy of his fingerprints in, and they were checked against the unidentified print found in Daisy’s car, again with no results.

  Such tips, even on the surface, would seem barely worth noting. They were the caliber of leads that the investigators were receiving, increasingly in painfully smaller numbers. The police took each one seriously though; they had to. The public fervor over Daisy’s murder had not died down. Some of that was because of the invasive manner in which the tight-knit community at Kellogg’s had been penetrated. Another aspect was the pure violent nature of her death and the fear that it brought the community.

  The public scrutiny of Floyd Zick did not abate after his being cleared by the polygraph and having an airtight alibi for the crime. He tried to move on with his life as best he could. He frequented several bars and was known to take the microphone and sing for the audience if the mood was on him, though his voice was not nearly as good as he thought it was. People watched Floyd, some secretly believing that he knew more about his wife’s death than he had let on.

  Selling the home on Juno Street proved impossible with the local community so aware of the murder that had taken place there. Floyd remained in the house for several years.

  Several sources have said that Floyd was an alcoholic prior to the murder but was a functional drinker. He was not tardy for work at Fales’ Market and always was personable with customers. After the death of his wife, he had become more sullen and began to drink more heavily.

  He remarried over a year after Daisy’s death. His bride was Doris Epley, a waitress. Those that knew Floyd said he was overly protective of Doris, always keeping close tabs on her, no doubt a result of the events that had come to dominate his life.

  As much as he tried to move on, it was clear that the death of Daisy weighed heavily on him. He gave her jewelry away. He eventually sold her car to Marie Fales as her first car. Her mother insisted that the car be repainted. This was, after all, the car that the killer had driven from the place of the murder in. The last thing Mrs. Fales wanted was her young daughter driving around in a car that might be recognized by the killer, who was still on the loose.

  By March 1965, Floyd had become dependent on his drinking. He was committed to the Battle Creek Sanitarium for treatment. Detective Conn, upon hearing of this, used the opportunity to visit the new Mrs. Zick to probe to see if Floyd had ever revealed any information about the crime to her. Perhaps, just perhaps, Floyd was struggling with guilt over his first wife’s death, or he may have remembered something that he had let slip to his new spouse. Doris Zick said that her husband had never discussed with her anything about Daisy nor given her any information that would lead her to believe that he was involved. Detective Conn and the investigators left Floyd alone as he recovered.

  By 1965, every lead was cold. Detective Conn and Captain Patterson were shifted to new cases, ones that stood a chance of being solved. The Zick files were carefully catalogued by Trooper Kartheu and boxed up. It had become painfully clear that the original investigators were not likely to be the ones to solve the crime. Indeed, both Fitch and Detzler were already gone. The public had trouble letting go of the Zick case—some because of the possible involvement of someone at Kellogg’s, others out of fear that whoever committed such a heinous crime might strike again. The obligation to continue this investigation was about to fall to a new generation of investigators.

  When I talked to Battle Creek law enforcement officers of the era, almost all said that one of the biggest changes to happen to the Michigan State Police Post Forty-six in the 1960s was the arrival of two officers: detectives Robert Kenney and Leroy Steinbacher. As Fred Ritchie put it, “Things really improved over there when Kenney and Steinbacher arrived. They were top-notch investigators, real professionals.”

  Detectives Kenney and Steinbacker. Courtesy of Anita (Kenney) Stockham.

  Robert Kenney was from Amasa in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. He had been rotated to a number of posts before coming to Battle Creek with his wife and children. At six foot two with crew cut “cop hair,” he was a determined and methodical investigator.

  Leroy Steinbacher—“Stein,” as some called him—was a husky-built man with a square jaw and slicked-back hair. He had been raised in the Battle Creek area and was seven years Kenney’s senior. Detective Steinbacher was known to be tenacious when he worked on a case, determined to see it through to its conclusion.

  Kenney and Steinbacher were to be drawn into the Zick case starting in 1965. For one of them, it would be an obsession that continued long after he left the police force.

  Chapter 7

  A NEW GENERATION OF INVESTIGATORS

  Retired Michigan State Police Detective Leroy Steinbacher says murder is the most violent act one person can commit against another. He still thinks about unsolved murders a quarter century after he retired. “If you are good you won’t sleep at night,” he said. “I want to get them and put them away so they won’t do it again. And it is a deterrent for others. I was always working for the proper justice.” Twenty-five years after his retirement and 35 years after the unsolved murder of a Battle Creek woman, Daisy Zick, Steinbacher still thinks about that case. He believes there is a chance the murder can still be solved and hates the thought that he might die before the killer is caught. “I would give anything to see someone convicted.”

  Battle Creek Enquirer and News

  February 1, 1998

  Detective Leroy Steinbacher first became involved with the murder of Daisy Zick in November 1965. An informant contacted Steinbacher and told him the name of a potential suspect, Roland Bouchard. According to the anonymous tip, Bouchard was charged with attempted rape and was known to have a violent temper. Bouchard was a bartender at the Chuck Wagon bar and restaurant in 1963 at the time of the murder and quit his job there shortly after Daisy’s murder. The informant added that Bouchard had scratches on his face just after the crime.

  For Steinbacher, or for any detective getting such a tip, this meant that he would have to sit down with the massive Zick file and revi
ew the information from the crime scene and the evidence to date. It would be a massive undertaking and an immersion in all of the investigation that had taken place prior to his involvement.

  Bouchard had been arrested two times for breaking and entering prior to coming to the attention of the Zick investigators. He had spent three years in Jackson State Penitentiary and had been on parole for two years. In 1961, he had been brought up on charges of attempted rape. Bouchard had been arrested by the Owosso Police Department for disorderly conduct, a case which was still pending. While the informant’s tip about attempted rape didn’t hold water, one thing was for sure: Mr. Bouchard was no stranger to law enforcement. The judge in Owosso was reluctant to release Bouchard’s fingerprints for testing to Detective Steinbacher. After all, Bouchard had been arrested for a misdemeanor, and the detective was looking into a murder case. He eventually relented.

  The disorderly conduct charge had come from Bouchard allegedly calling women on the phone and using “obscene and immoral language” as well as making threats. One of the victims had the police tap her line, and the call was traced back to a local phone booth where witnesses recalled seeing Bouchard at the time.

  The Chuck Wagon’s proximity to where Daisy’s car had been abandoned couldn’t be ignored; it was only a half mile down the road, almost within eyesight of where the Pontiac had been left by the murderer. Even more intriguing was the fact that the current Mrs. Zick, Doris, was employed there as a barmaid.

  Steinbacher went to the bar to interview the staff. Helen Greenfield recalled Bouchard as “a ladies’ man.” Another waitress there, Eve Jordon, had dated Bouchard for a short time, but Helen had felt that he was too young for Eve’s interests.

  The coincidence of Floyd Zick’s new wife working at the same place as someone suggested as his first wife’s murderer was enough for Detective Steinbacher to have Floyd come out to the state police post for questioning. The new prosecuting attorney, John Jereck, sat in on the session as did a sergeant from the post. Floyd Zick was very nervous and upset when he was questioned. He knew Bouchard as a driver for Farm Peets eight years earlier. After Daisy’s death, Floyd had frequented the Chuck Wagon and had seen him as a bartender there, but that was the depth of their relationship.

  Doris offered less to investigators. Yes, she worked at the Chuck Wagon, but she did not know of any relationship between Floyd and Bouchard. She described Floyd as being very upset since the time of their marriage.

  Another man questioned was the part-time organist at the Chuck Wagon, Ralph Hartom. Hartom said that Bouchard was a well-known ladies’ man and had a violent temper. When asked about Floyd Zick, Hartom replied that he did know him and described him as lonely since the death of Daisy and a heavy drinker. The short-statured Hartom, described in the police reports as a possible homosexual, had admitted that he was a friend of Floyd Zick and had even spent the night in the Zick home, though he said that he had not known Daisy prior to her death.

  Roland Bouchard had been arrested in December 1965 on a maternity warrant from Van Buren County. At five feet seven inches tall and 136 pounds, Bouchard was a strong man who seemed to have ongoing issues with the law. When not under arrest, he was a brakeman for the Ann Arbor Railroad. Detective Steinbacher and Sergeant LaPointe both made arrangements to interview him.

  Ever the seasoned policeman, Steinbacher did not jump in with questions about Daisy Zick. Instead he asked about Bouchard’s past arrests, letting his subject relax. Then he raised the specter that Bouchard might be connected in some way to Daisy’s murder, at which time “[Bouchard] became very disturbed and [it] was the opinion of the officers that he could be involved or have knowledge of the same.” According to Bouchard, he only knew about the case from the newspapers and the article in the True Detective magazine. He admitted that he had spoken with Floyd Zick about the murder at the Chuck Wagon, but that was all. Still, his agitation drew the attention of Steinbacher. For the first time in a long time, it appeared there might be some sort of break in the case.

  Roland Bouchard agreed to a polygraph test, and it was administered in the Paw Paw State Police Post. It appeared that Bouchard was not withholding information on the case. Still, polygraphs were not infallible. Despite his passing the test, Steinbacher had the state police crime lab test Roland Bouchard’s fingerprints with the unidentified print lifted from Daisy’s car. They were not a match. While this seemed to be a dead-end, this involvement in the case by Steinbacher marked the first step in his many years’ journey on the Zick murder.

  Roy Bechtol was the Emmett Township police chief in 1964 and had his own insights into the Zick murder. Bechtol was a Battle Creek native who started as a patrolman for the Battle Creek Township Police. He worked on the Civil Defense Reserve Force and had worked full time after that for the Calhoun County Sheriff’s Department. He took a job with the fledgling Emmett Township Police Department in 1963 and, by 1964, had been named its chief. When the Zick murder had first occurred, he had been working closely with Undersheriff Wayne Fitch, so Bechtol was no stranger to the investigation.

  In January 1964, Bechtol had received a tip that Albert Earl Cooley may have been romantically involved with Daisy Zick. On his own accord, he decided to question Cooley about his alleged relationship. Cooley didn’t admit to an affair but did reveal that he had a girlfriend that lived on Eisenhower, right near the Dog ’n Suds within eyesight of where Daisy’s car had been abandoned. “When I questioned him, he was evasive. That’s not out of the ordinary when you are talking to someone about someone who had been killed, but it does get your attention. He tried to pass off his answers to my questions as a joke,” said Bechtol, who was a seasoned officer and sensed that Cooley was not telling him everything that he knew. At the same time, Cooley, a part-time bartender and truck driver for a transit company in Battle Creek, did not seem to have any reason to conceal information.

  “I suggested that I set up a polygraph. We could then question him and clear him of any involvement. He was hesitant but agreed,” Bechtol recalled. Cooley left the interview and, that night, went to a gas station three blocks from where he lived. Cooley had a key to the station and let himself in. He rode a car up on a hoist and turned it on, killing himself on the carbon monoxide fumes.

  For Bechtol, it seemed to be a slam-dunk. You talk to a person about their involvement in a crime, and they kill themselves shortly thereafter, apparently to avoid taking the polygraph test. And that wasn’t the lost odd occurrence: “Not too long after that, Cooley’s brother tried to kill himself too. I came across him trying to commit suicide in a hayfield. He had run a hose from the exhaust into the car and left it running. He was all blue when I found him but I was able to revive him.”

  The fact that Albert Cooley had killed himself at the suggestion of a polygraph test seemed to be lost amid the burgeoning case file. There were good reasons for it. At the time, the young Emmett Township Police Department had not even implemented a filing system for its case notes. In fact, Bechtol had brought in his brother who worked at the Federal Center to help him organize their ever-increasing sea of paperwork. “Back then we didn’t have forms, we wrote out our notes long-hand on legal pads and then filed them away,” Bechtol explained. His interview with Albert Cooley didn’t get cataloged with the state police until he mentioned it a year later in November 1965.

  Detective Steinbacher went out to Bechtol’s house to interview him. Steinbacher dug into the case. Albert Cooley had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior in 1959 but otherwise had a clean record. His fingerprints were on file from that arrest, and Detective Steinbacher ordered that they be forwarded to the crime lab for comparison.

  The results were negative. No one thought to check the brother’s fingerprints at the time. The focus in 1965 was on Albert. The question of whether Albert killed himself because he knew the crime or because he assisted with it was destined to remain unanswered for decades.

  Leroy Steinbacher brought a new focus and vigor to th
e Zick investigation. Whereas the original investigators had gotten into a mode of only acting on tips and leads, Steinbacher went on the offensive. He began to search for possible suspects. Any acts of violence against women were checked against the Zick case. For example, when twenty-five-year-old George Herr of Grand Ledge was arrested for the murder of Betty Reynolds, Steinbacher contacted the local state police post to check Herr’s fingerprints against the unidentified print from Daisy’s car (though it was not a match).

  While working another investigation about a Howard Schneider, who had a reputation for molesting women in the area, Steinbacher wondered if Schneider might be involved with the Zick crime. It is important to note that charges had never been raised against Schneider by the women involved, but Steinbacher began to check the man’s old addresses and learned he lived in Emmett Township, not far from the Zick home. His wife, Margaret, worked at Kellogg’s at the same time that Daisy did as well. Steinbacher felt this warranted further checking. He contacted Floyd Zick, who indicated that Daisy had never mentioned either one of the Schneiders. Schneider’s fingerprints failed to match the print obtained from Daisy’s car. While it was another blind alley, Steinbacher was, at least, keeping the case going.

  For Detective Steinbacher and others on the case, two new tips came in on January 10, 1967, that raised the only person named a suspect in the Zick case. The two tips came in at roughly the same time. Virgil Pugh had been at Loravina’s Bar on West Michigan Avenue, when he saw a man, William Daily, make a threat to a woman who refused to dance with him. State police trooper John Karson reached out to Detective Steinbacher and said that he had received an unconfirmed tip that William Daily had recently threatened to “do to a woman what had been done to Daisy Zick.”

  William Daily was no stranger to the Zick case. He had been interviewed the day of the murder since he had been Daisy’s mailman. His account of that morning had been somewhat off from the others that day. First, he claimed that when he had been at the Zick home, the garage door had been down, while all other accounts had the door being open by 11:00 a.m. when he would have been there. Secondly, Daily had claimed to have seen a sullen man walking on Michigan Avenue by the Chuck Wagon that morning but was the only person that witnessed a hitchhiker in that area. Despite these discrepancies, the original investigators never bothered to follow-up with Daily to attempt to determine why his accounts were so far off.