Depraved

by Harold Schechter

  24

  He who shall teach the child to doubt

  The rotting grave shall ne’er get out.

  —William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

  When Holmes showed up at the Fidelity building on Saturday morning, Howe and Alice were already there, waiting upstairs with President Fouse, O. LaForrest Perry, and another man: the carpenter, Eugene Smith, who had been asked to come along to help identify the remains. It took Holmes a moment to recognize Smith as the fellow he had seen in Pitezel’s office several weeks earlier. The realization gave him a start—Smith was the last person he wanted to see. Still, there was nothing to do but smile politely and pray that the man wouldn’t recognize him.

  At first, Smith appeared not to. But as Holmes turned his attention to the other people in the room, the carpenter eyed him closely. There was something strangely familiar about the new arrival, Smith thought. He could have sworn he had seen the dapper gentleman somewhere before, though for the life of him, he couldn’t recollect where.

  Leaving Fouse’s office shortly before noon, the little party traveled to the city morgue, where they picked up Dr. William Mattern—the physician who had performed the autopsy—and Deputy Coroner Dugan. From there, they caught the first of the two streetcars that would carry them to potter’s field on the outskirts of the city, where Benjamin Pitezel’s body had been buried on September 15, after lying in the coldhouse for the required eleven days.

  As the horse-drawn trolley rattled over the cobblestones, Smith continued to scrutinize Holmes, who sat across the aisle from him, talking softly to President Fouse. When they changed cars forty minutes later, the carpenter made sure to seat himself next to Holmes.

  By then, Smith had started to place him. Indeed, he was becoming more convinced by the minute that Holmes was the gentleman in the tan-colored suit who had entered the patent dealer’s office on the afternoon of Smith’s second visit and disappeared upstairs after signaling Perry to follow.

  Clearing his throat, Smith asked Holmes how he came to be here now.

  Holmes hesitated for a moment, as though considering how—or perhaps whether—to respond. Finally, he replied that Mr. Pitezel had been a business acquaintance of his in Chicago. Having been contacted by the insurance company, he had offered to come to Philadelphia to render whatever assistance he could.

  “What line of business do you follow?” Smith asked.

  “Patent agent,” Holmes answered in a tone meant to discourage further inquiry.

  Smith, however, was undeterred.

  “That is interesting,” he mused. “Mr. Perry was attempting to dispose of a patented invention of my own at the time of his death.” Smith cast a hopeful look in Holmes’s direction. “Perhaps you might be interested in handling the matter?”

  Holmes uttered a noncommittal sound.

  An awkward moment passed. “How did the insurance company get in touch with you?” Smith continued after a while.

  Holmes sighed wearily. “I travel a good deal throughout the United States. The company telegraphed Mrs. Pitezel, who relayed the message to me.”

  Smith mulled this information over for a moment before asking, “If you travel about so much, how did she know just where to reach you?”

  This time, Holmes answered with an icy stare. From that point on, the two men rode in silence.

  As the streetcar approached its destination, Smith debated what to do. He believed that Holmes was the man he had seen at 1316 Callowhill Street several weeks earlier but couldn’t be entirely sure. He felt the burden of his great responsibility. L. G. Fouse himself—president of the Fidelity Mutual Life Association Company—had asked for his assistance. He was petrified of committing a blunder and making a fool of himself.

  After turning the matter over in his mind until it dizzied him, he settled on the safest course. He decided to say nothing.

  Months would pass before Eugene Smith understood what a catastrophic choice he had made. And by then, of course, it was too late.

  Arriving at the City Burial Ground around one P. M., the group was greeted by Dr. Lemuel Taylor, the official in charge of the cemetery. Having been notified that morning of the impending postmortem, Taylor and his assistant, Henry Sidebotham, had already exhumed the plain pine box and carried it to a wooden storage shed on the edge of the graveyard, not far from the crematory furnace.

  Holmes and the others crowded into the shed, where the coffin had been placed on a makeshift table. Wedging the edge of a spade under the lid, Taylor pried open the coffin. Immediately, a foul miasma wafted into the room. Coughing and gagging, Fouse and Perry yanked out their hankies and clutched them to their faces, while Howe drew Alice away from the coffin, into the farthest corner of the shed.

  Pitezel’s body had been found in a fairly advanced state of decomposition on September 4. Now, nearly three weeks later, it was repulsive enough to make even Dr. Mattern wince.

  Holmes, however, seemed unperturbed by its putrid condition. Peering into the open coffin at the black and bloated corpse, he coolly announced, “This is Benjamin Pitezel.”

  At that, Alice broke into cries so piteous that even Howe was moved to tears. He placed an arm around the sobbing child and patted her shoulder.

  “Perhaps I shall take the child outside until the examination is completed,” Howe said, leading the girl toward the doorway. Fouse and Perry endorsed this idea and decided to join Howe and Alice outside.

  As Mattern pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, Holmes, standing at his side, reminded him of the identifying marks that they were looking for—the bruised thumbnail, the scarred leg, and the warty growth. Eugene Smith, meanwhile, positioned himself on the opposite side of the table to observe the procedure. Taylor, Sidebotham, and Dugan waited nearby.

  Reaching into the box, Mattern began his examination. He lifted up the corpse’s hands and looked closely at the fingernails. It was difficult to detect any bruises, since all of the nails were discolored by putrefaction. Tearing open the seam of the right pants leg, he searched for a scar on the moldering flesh of the calf—but to no avail. Nor was the wart immediately visible.

  Finally, he stepped away from the coffin. “I cannot find the marks,” he muttered. The sight and stench of the cadaver seemed to have left him slightly shaken. Peeling off his gloves, he dropped them onto the table, stepped over to a bucketful of water that Taylor had set in a corner, splashed some on his face, and began scrubbing his hands.

  As he did, Holmes stripped off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up Mattern’s gloves. Fitting them onto his hands, he reached into his vest pocket and removed a small lancet. Then, as Mattern came up beside him, he went to work on the corpse.

  “Here,” Holmes said. Using the point of the lancet, Holmes pried the darkened nail from the end of the right thumb and passed it over to Mattern. “Clean it with alcohol and see what you find.”

  From the inside of the right leg, about two and a half inches below the knee, he peeled away the skin, using only his fingers. The flesh of the leg was so rotten that Holmes did not need the lancet. Beneath the skin, the cicatrix of an old wound, which had fused itself to the bone, was clearly visible.

  “We must turn him over,” Holmes announced. Taylor, who was reluctant to have any contact with the corpse, stuck his spade into the coffin and used it to work the body around. Holmes and Mattern assisted by reaching in and pulling on the clothing.

  With the corpse lying facedown, Holmes pointed to a growth on the back of its neck. “Look,” he said to Mattern, using the lancet to etch a circle around the spot.

  Asking Holmes to step aside, Mattern took the lancet from his hand, excised the wart, wrapped it in a sheet of paper, and placed it carefully in his shirt pocket.

  The body was restored to its original position in the wooden box. Mattern found an old cloth lying about and draped it over the corpse’s face, leaving only the gaping mouth exposed. Then the lid was arranged on the coffin top so that the body was concealed from
the neck down.

  Stepping out of the shed, Holmes returned a few moments later with Alice and Howe. Fouse and Perry remained outside. Leading Alice by the hand to the tableside, Holmes gently asked her to look at the teeth and say if they resembled her papa’s. Sobbing, Alice forced herself to look at the ghastly sight, then nodded yes and quickly buried her face in her hands.

  As Taylor and his assistant began to replace the coffin lid, Holmes declared solemnly that he would pay whatever it cost to have the body cremated. Howe, his arm around the hysterical child, replied that he would ask the widow how she wished to dispose of the remains, though he concurred that cremation sounded like the wisest choice.

  Some of them, such as Howe and Perry, sat silently during the return trip, too sobered by the experience to engage in casual talk. Others, relieved that the ordeal was over, chattered away.

  Holmes took the opportunity to tell President Fouse that because of pressing business affairs, he would only be able to remain in Philadelphia for one more day. Though Fouse was unhappy about disrupting his Sabbath, he agreed to come to the office early the next morning.

  Back in the city, Holmes accompanied Alice and Howe to the Imperial Hotel, conferring with the latter in his room while the girl packed up her meager belongings. When she was ready, Holmes took her to Adella Alcorn’s place. The landlady had gone off to the shore for the weekend, leaving a longtime tenant, an old man named John Grammer, in charge. Holmes introduced Alice as his little sister, just arrived from Atlantic City.

  Grammer looked curiously at the girl, who seemed frightfully pale and shaky, as though she’d just suffered a terrible shock. Without elaborating, Holmes explained that his sister was slightly indisposed, though he was certain she would be fine by the morning. Bidding the old man good evening, Holmes showed Alice to her quarters, then retired to his own room for the night.

  Shortly after ten the next morning—Sunday, September 23—Holmes and Alice returned to Fouse’s office. Lawyer Howe and O. LaForrest Perry were already present, along with Coroner Samuel H. Ashbridge, who proceeded to take the following statement from Alice:

  “I am in the fifteenth year of my age. Benjamin F. Pitezel was my father. He was thirty-seven years old this year. My mother is living. There are five children. My father came East on July 29th. He left St. Louis…. We learned of his death through the papers. I came on with Mr. Howe to see the body. On Saturday, September 22d, I saw a body at the City Burial Ground and fully recognized the body as that of my father by his teeth. I am fully satisfied that it is he.”

  As soon as she was done, Holmes gave his own sworn affidavit:

  “I knew Benjamin Pitezel for eight years in Chicago. I had business with him during that time…. I received a letter from E.H. Cass, Agent of Fidelity Company, about B.F. Pitezel, he sending a clipping to me. I came to Philadelphia and saw the body on Saturday, September 22d, at the City Burial Ground. I recollected a mole on the back of the neck; a low growth of head on the forehead; the general shape of the head and teeth. His daughter Alice had described a scar on the right leg below the knee in front. I found those on the body as described to me by Alice. I have no doubt whatsoever but that it is the body of Benjamin F. Pitezel, who was buried as B.F. Perry. I last saw him alive in November, 1893, in Chicago. I heard he used an assumed name recently, but I never knew him to use any other name than his own before. I found him an honest, honorable man, in all his dealings.”

  The business concluded, Holmes shook hands all around and received a $10 check from President Fouse to cover his traveling expenses. Howe arranged to return the following morning.

  Holmes, Howe, and Alice left the Fidelity building together. A few blocks away, they paused on a street corner. Howe explained to Alice that he would have to remain in Philadelphia to receive the insurance money. In the meantime, he was turning her over to the care of Mr. Holmes, who would escort her back to St. Louis. He thanked her for her help and her courage. She had done a splendid job.

  That evening, Holmes and Alice boarded a westbound train. At that point, the girl had every reason to believe that she was on her way back home.

  But she was wrong.

  25

  Truth is stranger than fiction, and if Mrs. Pitezel’s story is true, it is the most wonderful exhibition of the power of mind over mind I have ever seen, and stranger than any novel I have ever read.

  —The Honorable Michael Arnold

  In her husband’s absence, Georgiana had filled her days with assorted activities—needlework, reading, window-shopping, sight-seeing strolls, and another brief visit to her parents’ home in Franklin. Even so, she had ample time to develop a friendship with Mrs. Rodius, the hotel owner’s ruddy-faced wife.

  Mrs. Rodius was very curious about Georgiana’s husband. She had caught only a fleeting glimpse of him when he had signed the hotel register. He had gone off again just a few hours later, leaving his wife to occupy herself as best she could.

  But as the two women became better acquainted, it became clear that Georgiana doted on her husband. She spoke with particular pride about his self-made success. Through hard work and shrewd dealings, her Henry had become a wealthy man, with considerable property holdings in Chicago and Texas. He also owned a substantial estate overseas, in Berlin, Germany. Indeed, they would soon be traveling to Europe and might move there permanently once her husband had settled his affairs in the States.

  Mrs. Rodius was suitably impressed and looked forward to being properly introduced to Mr. Howard, who was due back in Indianapolis any day. But as it happened, she never got the chance.

  Late Monday afternoon, September 24—the day after he and Alice Pitezel departed from Philadelphia—Holmes appeared suddenly at the door of the hotel room. Georgiana flew into his arms. But no sooner had he finished embracing her and filling her in on the ostensible progress of his railroad deal than he announced, in a voice full of regret, that he would have to leave again almost immediately.

  Understandably, Georgiana was dismayed, though Holmes managed to placate her with some small gifts and a promise to return within the week.

  And where, asked Georgiana, was he off to this time?

  To St. Louis, he replied. To meet with his lawyer, a gentleman named Mr. Harvey, in regard to settling the unfortunate matter that had landed him in jail several months earlier.

  The first part of this statement, at least, was true. Holmes was indeed on his way to St. Louis—though for a very different reason than the one he presented to his wife. As usual, Georgiana had not the slightest conception of her husband’s true activities. Among the myriad facts she did not know was that he had actually arrived in Indianapolis much earlier that day.

  With him was Alice Pitezel—who was at that moment sitting in a shabby hotel room not far from the train station, wondering when she would see her mother again.

  As their train crossed the border into Ohio, Holmes—talking in the way she hated, as though she were his favorite little girl—had broken the news to Alice. They were not going back to St. Louis after all. Though he hadn’t said anything about it in Philadelphia, he had been corresponding with her mother, who was feeling much better and was back on her feet. For reasons too complicated to explain, they had decided that Alice’s family should move away from St. Louis—perhaps to Indianapolis or Detroit or a place farther east.

  Before making this move, Carrie wanted to pay a visit to her folks in Galva. Since it didn’t make sense for Alice to travel all the way to St. Louis and then back again, the arrangement they had worked out was this: Holmes was to put Alice up in a hotel in Indianapolis, then continue on to St. Louis to fetch two of her siblings, Nellie and Howard. Holmes would bring them back to Indianapolis to keep Alice company, while her mother, Dessie, and baby Wharton made the trip to Galva. Afterward, they would all be reunited and decide on a place to live. With the money they had inherited from Alice’s poor, dead papa, they would buy their own house and live comfortably forever.

  Simple and na
ïve, Alice swallowed this story without question. She was disappointed that she would not see her mama for a while. But it was a comfort to know that she would soon have Nellie and Howard for company. And the thought of living in a big house with Mama and Dessie and the little ones made her happy.

  When the train pulled into Union Depot, Holmes led her straight to Stubbins’ European Hotel and rented her a room. Explaining that he would be gone for a few days, he asked if she would like him to carry a letter to her family. While Holmes returned to the front desk to leave instructions with the hotelkeeper, Alice sat down and wrote the following:

  Dear Ones at Home:

  I am glad to hear that you are all well and that you are up. I guess you will not have any trouble getting the money. [Mr. Holmes] is going to get two of you and fetch you here with me and then I won’t be so lonesome…. I have a pair of shoes now if I could see you I would have a nough to talk to you all day but I cannot very well write it I will see you all before long though don’t you worry. This is a cool day. Mr. Perry said that if you did not get the insurance all right through the lawyers to rite to Mr. Foust or Mr. Perry. I wish I had a silk dress. I have seen more since I have been away than I ever saw before in my life. I have another picture for your album. I will have to close for this time now so good bye love and kisses and squeeses to all.

  Holmes returned to the room just as Alice was signing her letter. Folding it carefully in fourths, he tucked it away in his jacket pocket. Then he took his leave of Alice and repaired to the Circle Park Hotel for his brief reunion with Georgiana.

  Jeptha Howe, meanwhile, was on a train headed back to St. Louis. He, too, was bearing something for Mrs. Pitezel—a check for nearly $10,000 from the Fidelity Mutual Life Association Company.