Poisoning the Pecks of Grand Rapids

by Tobin T. Buhk

  Brothers and Swann exchanged a quick glance. Waite, it appeared, had fallen into a fantasy world as an attempt to preempt the insanity defense both knew they would confront in court. The story sounded familiar to Brothers, who remembered reading about the strange case of George W. Wood, who murdered a shopkeeper named George Williams in 1905. After his capture, Wood claimed to be possessed by a double he called “the little black man” who moved him to murder.104

  Frank’s heart sank. He shielded his face with the palm of his hand as he watched Arthur talk his way out of any possible plea bargain. Deuel stared at Waite, dumbfounded.

  “Doctor,” Swann asked, “can’t you tell us where this man or spirit comes from?”

  “No, I can’t judge.”

  “But, doctor, this man has been with you so much and you have talked with him so much, can’t you give us any idea where he comes from?”

  “It must be from Egypt. Yes, sir, it’s an Egyptian spirit, for he’s always talking about Egypt and Egyptian things.”

  Dooling jumped in. “You mean Egypt, Missouri, don’t you?”

  “No, I mean Egypt, Africa.”105

  Swann didn’t know what to say. He had seen other suspects feign insanity, but Waite’s fiction seemed so bizarre, so far-fetched, he wanted to laugh. Then he glanced at Frank Waite and remembered how Arthur’s bedside confession had emotionally unhinged him. All of a sudden, it seemed more pathetic than humorous. Schindler, though, cracked a smile. Brothers wondered what Margaret Horton would say if she knew that her acting sessions with Waite would culminate in this, the performance of Waite’s life.

  Waite admitted, without even a smirk on his face, “it was with me when I procured the germs that I administered to Mrs. Peck. It was not I who killed my mother-in-law, but the bad part of me—this Egyptian spirit who killed her, through me.” The bad man, he said, also made him kill his father-in-law.

  “He did it,” Waite explained without a hint of emotion in his voice. “The bad man, the man from Egypt. I was afraid of him. He made me do terrible things. Sometimes when I felt him after me I would run away. I ran into the park once and tried to get away from him there, but he caught me. I told Clara about it. It was only last night the good man came back.”

  “Now tell me, doctor, did you have any accomplices?”

  “Only Kane, who embalmed Mr. Peck’s body, and of course that bad man from Egypt inside me whom I was unable to control.” Waite explained that when he returned to New York from Grand Rapids, the evil entity inhabited his body. So when he tried to pay off Kane, it was the bad man making him do it.

  Swann frowned as the possible implications of a crooked embalmer hit him. He asked Waite to describe the bribe.

  Waite said that when he returned to the Coliseum after arriving from Grand Rapids, he found John Potter waiting at his door. The undertaker had come to collect payment for the embalming of John Peck’s body.

  Potter, according to Waite, had heard that the district attorney wanted a sample of the embalming fluid, so Waite said it would be best if it contained arsenic. Potter then suggested Waite pay Kane to lie about the contents of his embalming fluid and prepare a doctored sample for the DA. “That would cost money,” Potter suggested. When Waite asked how much, Potter said he didn’t know for sure but added, “You cannot expect Kane to do this and put himself in that position without being paid well for it.” Potter, Waite said, also suggested he pay off pharmacist Richard Timmerman, from whom he had purchased the arsenic that wound up in John Peck’s soup.

  Following Potter’s advice, Waite wrote out a check for $9,400, dated March 20 and drawn on the Corn Exchange Bank, and handed it to Kane. Dooling nodded. This explained Waite’s sale of one hundred shares from Catherine Peck’s stock portfolio. Realizing over $9,000, he deposited the money in an account only to subsequently withdraw it. “After I handed Kane this check,” Waite continued, “he went out, but came back shortly and said Potter had advised him not to bank it and Kane asked for the money in cash.”

  At this point, Waite explained, he suspected the police might have tapped his telephone, so he jotted Potter a note. “Don’t telephone me, and don’t let Kane telephone me, for the wires are tapped. Don’t worry about the check.” Then, acquiescing to their demand for cash, he wrote out a second check for the amount of $9,000 and asked a garage owner named Cimiotti to cash it for him. Later that morning, he met Kane at a cigar store and gave him a wad of banknotes in denominations of $500s, $100s and $50s. Kane, Waite said, also kept the $9,400 check because he believed Waite intended to pay him as much as $25,000.

  Later, Waite asked Kane, “Did you get the arsenic?”

  “Yes,” Waite said he replied, “I went way down on Long Island and got three sticks of arsenic from a gardener I have known for years.”

  But Waite never heard of “sticks of arsenic.” “I pulled down the books in my laboratory and began studying the subject of arsenic with reference to gardening.”

  Swann smiled. Waite’s tale provided a convenient explanation for the medical references containing bookmarks in pages discussing arsenic.

  The district attorney’s smile disappeared when Waite alleged that Kane told him he had falsified samples before and boasted of helping others evade convictions by fabricating evidence. Potter had helped embalm the body of William Marsh, for whose murder Albert Patrick was convicted but later pardoned. Kane did the embalming work on Katherine J. Adams—the victim who inspired the “K. Adams” pseudonym. Waite’s story, if true, raised doubts about tainted evidence in those cases.

  On the other hand, Swann knew Waite was a habitual liar. Nonetheless, the DA began to envision a scenario in which either Potter or Kane sent the “K. Adams” telegram as a way to blackmail or coerce hush money from Waite. He immediately dispatched Cunniff to the undertaker’s establishment with a subpoena in hand. He also ordered the arrest of Eugene Oliver Kane.106

  Swann left Bellevue after half an hour, deeply disturbed. He didn’t have the coup de grace of a full confession, and Waite had added another element to an already convoluted case when he accused the undertakers.

  A group of reporters spotted Swann coming out of the hospital and asked him about the confession. He gave a brief statement.

  “Dr. Waite made no confession. No, he did not even admit he had killed Mr. Peck,” he told the reporters. “[He] did not admit murder of any kind.”

  “But,” one stunned reporter asked, “I thought you came up, judge, with the understanding that he was prepared to make a full confession.”

  “It seems that Dr. Waite was fully prepared to make a full confession to me, but that his counsel would not let him.”107

  Others on Swann’s staff, however, believed that Deuel had pulled a fast one on the DA. He had planned all along for Swann to hear the “man from Egypt” story as a prelude to an insanity defense.

  Swann declared that he would reject any insanity plea attempted by Waite’s counsel. If Waite was insane, he would have to prove it in court. And, Swann noted, he would follow the wishes of Percy Peck and seek the death penalty.

  Waite’s act didn’t fool anyone. A New York Tribune writer sarcastically described the situation: “There being no psychic Ellis Island, the man from Egypt came to this country, heaven only knows when. He entered into Dr. Waite long ago, evicting the soul the man had been equipped with at birth, and reigning at intervals in that spirit’s stead.”108

  Waite’s “man from Egypt” story created a problem for Walter Rogers Deuel, who wanted to stage a legitimate insanity defense. He bought a train ticket to Grand Rapids, where he hoped to interview Waite’s family members about a possible strain of mental instability running back through generations.

  That evening, just before he climbed aboard a westbound train, Deuel outlined his strategy to the press: “Until I can have the advice of medical authorities, I think it best for Dr. Waite to be kept as quiet as possible. I wish, however, to deny positively that our defense will be based on any such ridicu
lous stuff as ‘the evil spirit from Egypt,’ which the papers described with such detail this morning.”

  Deuel, forced to do some spin control, offered an alternate explanation for Waite’s bizarre tale. “Dr. Waite never said seriously he was possessed of an evil man from Egypt. He never has pretended that he had hallucinations. What he did say was there was a ‘bad side to him, and a good side,’ and that sometimes this bad side which he described as ‘he’ got the better of him. Then along comes the district attorney. One of his assistants got rough. He said to Dr. Waite, ‘who the hell is he, who is this accomplice?’ Dr. Waite resented his manner, and becoming sarcastic, finally said he didn’t know who he was, but presumed ‘he’ came from Egypt. That was literally all there was to it. Dr. Waite simply joked with the district attorney’s office, and they took it all seriously.”109

  Clara, like Deuel, saw right through Waite’s ruse. As she read the news item quoting Waite, she reread one line over and over: “I told Clara about it.” Enraged, she tossed the newspaper aside and telephoned Reverend Wishart. She wanted to call Arthur’s bluff, but she didn’t want to face the press just yet.

  A few minutes later, Wishart arrived at the Peck mansion to once again scribe a statement.

  Wishart wrote while Clara talked from her bedside. When she finished, he handed her the transcript. Clara read it over, managed a faint smile and handed it back to Wishart.

  From the Peck estate, Wishart made a beeline to the nearest Western Union office and wired the message to the New York Herald.

  “He said no word to me about such a condition. This evil personality has been conjured up since his arrest, and the man from Egypt is a rank myth. This is Arthur’s attempt to free himself, but I will never help him in it. He murdered my mother. I know he did it intentionally. He had planned it all and he made his plans when he was in possession of every faculty.”110

  On Wednesday afternoon, March 29, Cunniff dragged the stunned, forty-five-year-old undertaker John S. Potter into Swann’s office for what turned out to be a long night of interrogation.

  Potter, frightened, adamantly denied writing the “K. Adams” telegram or playing any role whatsoever in an extortion scheme.

  He did admit to warning Waite about the investigation afoot and receiving the letter in which Waite commanded him not to telephone because his line was tapped, but when Swann asked him why Waite would send such a letter, he couldn’t produce an answer.

  After Potter left Swann’s office, Swann received word that the grand jury was ready to indict Waite for the murder of John Peck. But after speaking with Waite, Swann suspected Kane of possibly extorting hush money from Waite. He decided to withhold the indictment until he spoke with the undertaker.

  Swann had dispatched a team of detectives to find Kane, but despite turning the city upside down, they still could not find him.

  While Swann grilled Potter at the Criminal Courts Building, the Peck family held a conference at Aunt Catherine’s Park Avenue Hotel room.

  Percy Peck, legs crossed, leafed through the stack of newspapers that Walter Drew had collected. He nodded as he read through the coverage. It was mostly accurate, but in a few instances, imaginative journalists had predictably sensationalized an already-sensational case.

  In the days since the case broke, newspapermen had aired several baseless rumors, and Waite became a larger-than-life villain. One that made the rounds was the rumor that Waite planned to murder both Margaret and her husband. This allegation persisted despite Margaret’s insistence that it was based on an error. When a reporter suggested Waite may have wanted to poison her, she facetiously replied, “Did he?” The reporter either didn’t catch Margaret Horton’s sarcasm or ignored it entirely, and Margaret became yet another one of Waite’s intended victims.111

  Waite, the rumor mill also suggested, used his tennis chums as guinea pigs for germ experimentation. According to reports, assistant district attorneys uncovered evidence that several friends became ill after spending time with Waite. Swann, however, condemned this story as a myth.

  Coselia Corbitt, a Grand Rapids native studying music in New York and a close friend of Clara Peck, supposedly wrote a letter home containing a damaging piece of hearsay. “I’ll soon be spending the Peck millions,” she said she heard Waite remark. But when Swann’s men cornered Corbitt, she denied ever hearing such a statement or writing such a letter.

  The Peck family, likewise, became victims of the rumormongering. In ink, Percy appeared as a revenge-driven snob and Aunt Catherine a guileless woman so duped by Waite that she would go so far as to fund his defense. Percy glanced over at Aunt Catherine. She looked bewildered, her hands shaking slightly.

  They agreed that they would play no part in Waite’s defense. Aware of the press indicating Aunt Catherine’s desire to pay for Waite’s legal fees, they issued a formal statement through Walter Drew.

  They wanted to dispel several rumors:

  Percy Peck was not motivated by revenge;

  No member of the Peck family arranged for Walter Deuel to take the case;

  Catherine Peck did not offer to bankroll Arthur’s defense.

  The brief statement was signed by Percy S. Peck, Mrs. Clara Peck Waite, Catherine A. Peck and Mrs. Percy Peck.112

  9

  RAISING KANE

  NEW YORK, NEW YORK

  Thursday, March 30–Friday, March 31, 1916

  Swann glared as Eugene Oliver Kane walked into his office alongside his lawyer on the afternoon of March 30. He had decided to surrender himself to authorities.

  The terrified undertaker was ready to talk in exchange for a promise that he would not face any criminal charges. Reluctantly, Swann agreed, if Kane told the truth about his dealings with Waite.

  The first question: did Kane send the “K. Adams” telegram? Like Potter, Kane denied having anything to do with it.

  Kane described his embalming of John Peck and insisted he had followed the law to a T. “I used the same fluid I have been using for the last seven years. It is made of formaldehyde, glycerin and soda phosphates. There was no arsenic in it. I never use arsenic.”

  That part of Kane’s story, Swann realized, was true; a sample of his embalming fluid did not contain arsenic.

  Swann asked Kane to describe Waite’s attempted bribe.

  Kane gave a scene-by-scene description of his meetings with Waite on March 19–20. When Waite asked, “Could arsenic be put in the embalming fluid?” Kane replied, “It could, but I wouldn’t do it because it was against the law.” When they met the next morning, Kane said, Waite shoved “a large roll of something”—he didn’t know what at the time—in his pocket and disappeared. Later he discovered what his pocket contained.

  “When I got home I opened the roll and saw $50 bills and $100 bills and two $500s. There was so much money I got afraid and never counted it.”

  He became nervy, he said, and decided to bury the money. “About a week later, I took this roll of money down to Greenport, Long Island, and went down to the shore, and there, I wrapped the money in a piece of paper and put it into a marshmallow can and wrapped that in a piece of paper and buried it in the sand.”113

  Swann stared at Kane, who puckered his lips and shrugged.

  Swann faced a dilemma with Kane. For the most part, the bones of his story—where he met Waite and when—matched those of Potter and Waite. The devil was in the details. Waite made it sound like Potter and Kane willingly conspired to provide false testimony and even possibly doctor evidence. Then again, Waite could lie with the best of them. But, Swann had discovered, Kane was no angel, either. He had done time for bigamy.

  Who was he to believe, Waite or Kane? Either of their scenarios fit the known facts.

  Swann smiled as he remembered a line from a Sherlock Holmes story: “There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.”114

  Perhaps a sand dune on Long Island contained the clue that would separate fact from fiction.

  On Friday morning, March 31, an icy spr
ing wind swept across the sandy beach at Orient Point—the tip of Long Island where Kane said he buried Waite’s $9,000 bribe. Kane led John Cunniff and Ansell Young, the manager of the Orient Point Hotel, through the sand dunes toward the spot where he had buried the tin can containing Waite’s bankroll.

  It was a weird episode, Cunniff thought as he followed Kane. The shady undertaker would not tell Swann where he buried the stash but agreed to lead a detective to the exact spot on Long Island where, guilt ridden and afraid, he had buried it a week earlier.

  Their odd odyssey began at eight o’clock on the morning of March 31, when Kane met Cunniff at the Long Island Railroad Station and ordered him to buy two tickets to Greenport. Cunniff rented a car, and for two miles, they sped along the beach road until the car became stuck in a deep drift of sand. They hiked back to Greenport, where Cunniff chartered a boat.

  For a second time, Kane and Cunniff set out for Orient Point, but after a few minutes, Cunniff realized that the motorboat didn’t have a rudder. It took about an hour to paddle back to shore, where they came across Ansell Young.

  Young recognized Kane, who was a frequent visitor to his hotel. After a brief chat, Young agreed to help. For a third time, Kane and Cunniff, this time with Ansell Young as their pilot, headed for Orient Point. They traveled for about five miles to East Marion Landing and went ashore. They hiked another mile until they came to a tall tree with three branches that pointed north, east and west.

  By the time they reached the tree, it was high noon, and John Cunniff had reached the end of his rope.

  Kane knelt down and felt through the tall sea grass for a rusty tin can he used to mark the spot. When he found it, he tossed it aside and jabbed his pocketknife into the ground. The knife struck something solid, and Kane dropped to his knees and began scooping out handfuls of dirt. A few minutes later, he pulled a tin can from the hole and handed it to Cunniff.