arsenic – Page 2 – My 52 Weeks With Christie

Caustic Candy: I Didn’t Do It, But If I Did It….

October 1, 2023August 18, 2023Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

(From the Boston Sunday Post on March 25, 1900)

Until this point in Viola Horlocker’s trial, her defense team worked to establish doubt as to whether Viola actually entered the building where Anna and Charles Morey lived. Later, they’d call a witness, who’d known Viola for years, lived in the same hallway as the Morey’s, was home all day — who swore he never saw Viola on April 10, 1899. While all these details add up, Viola’s lawyers had yet to really address the heart of Viola’s insanity plea.

Until the prosecution called Charles Morey to the stand.

Faster than a fox falls on a fluffy-tailed rabbit, Viola’s defense team tipped their hand, showing the jury who they regarded as the real villain of the piece.

Badgering and lambasting Charles at every turn, they relentlessly grilled him about the exact nature of his relationship with Viola: Charging him with ‘making love to an innocent young woman.’ Accusing him of encouraging Viola’s infatuation through the sheer volume of time spent together, confidences shared, and promises of marriage made. Blaming him for unhinging Viola’s mind — by forcing her to watch her rose-tinted dreams die when he unexpectedly severed all ties with her. Could anyone fault Viola for cracking under the pressure of watching the man she ‘loved not wisely, but too well’ carry on with his wife from afar, as if she never existed?

(BTW: Apparently, Viola’s lawyer’s cross-examination of Charles was so merciless that when Charles left the stand, he said something very rude while passing by the defense counsel’s table. Unwilling to let the insult roll like so much water off a duck’s back, said lawyer immediately punched Charles in the nose. The next day, the bailiffs, who suspected the dust hadn’t quite settled from the previous day’s kerfuffle, kept a weather eye on the two men. The surveillance proved fortuitous as they foiled the pair of hotheads from drawing pistols and shooting one another in the middle of the courtroom.)

Viola herself took the stand sometime later in her own defense. Though, betwixt hiding her face in her hands, copious weeping, and periodic bouts of fainting, she didn’t provide much substance to aid her case….However….Considering the number of trials where the purported perpetrator put their own head in the noose by trying to defend themselves on the stand — you could call presenting a generally pathetic and remorseful figure a result.

Fortunately, her legal team had an ace up their sleeve.

Do you recall the friends who, from the very start, said Viola must’ve been out of her right mind if she tried to poison Anna Morey? Well, they’d stuck to their conviction and with her. Not only did they attend Viola’s trial en masse, much to Judge Adams’ consternation (who didn’t think it proper). At one point during the proceedings, they rained kisses all over Viola’s head to show their support.

One of Viola’s particular friends, Miss Eva Stuart, took this show to the next level by providing information that Viola couldn’t or wouldn’t bring herself to say.

In what the newspapers deemed a well-rehearsed testimony, Miss Eva Stuart divulged several pertinent secrets and private conversations she and Viola shared. Opening with the revelation that initially Viola hadn’t viewed Charles Morey as anything other than her boss….Until one afternoon in the office, he confided in her how sad and lonely he was and wondered if she would be his friend.

(BTW: This was well before Anna left town for three months in the summer of 1898.)

However, Viola didn’t fall in love with Charles until the afternoon he hypnotized her headache away. While in the ‘altered’ state, Viola revealed she’d felt ‘a little door in her heart spring open and feelings she’d never felt for another friend poured out.’ Deepening their bond, Charles confided in Viola about his marital troubles whilst listening to her matriarchal woes. He came over to her house and listened to her sing. He started asking her to stay late after everyone else at work left — so he could give her a passionate kiss goodbye. Finally, while his wife was out of town, Charles invited Viola to his home. Just the two of them. Alone.

And she went.

(This was a bigger deal back in the day – as women back then were suppose to remain chaste until marriage.)

At this point, Viola’s defense really started picking up steam.

Her lawyers then called an array of witnesses who testified to Viola’s peculiar behavior in the months leading up to the poisoning of Anna Morey & friends. Behavior, which included: mood swings, crying jags, melancholy, depressed spirits, headaches, peculiar conduct, unhappiness, and general distress. On one occasion, Viola failed to recognize a friend whom she’d known for the better part of fifteen years. One of the Tibbets brothers testified that more often than not, after the summer of 1898, he’d find Viola on the office floor in a dead faint.

Next, Viola’s elder sister, Luella, took the stand. First, disclosing what many already knew, that as children, they’d often witnessed the savage fights between their mother and George Horlocker. Bouts, which led to Viola’s nervous disposition as a child. However, the coup de grace of her testimony was the confession of a dark family secret: Just before Viola’s birth, their mother had tried to kill herself.

Next came the medical experts from Oak Lawn Sanatorium. Dr. Cromwell, the superintendent of said sanatorium, testified that Viola had indeed been insane on April 10th. Gradually, between August 1898 and April 1899, the irresistible impulse to poison Anna Morey seized Viola. The last straw, which snapped what little reason Viola still possessed, came that day in the dining room of the Boswick Hotel. When Charles called Anna ‘darling’ — a term of affection he’d never applied to her.

Dr. Cromwell and his colleagues then explained that when Viola first entered the sanatorium, she’d been subject to extreme attacks of hysteria and nervousness. However, thanks to their care and treatments, Viola was well on the road to recovering her reason.

(From the Columbus Journal April 4, 1900. And one of my favorite lines of the entire case calling Viola ‘crazy as a bedbug’….)

Dr. Cromwell also went on to say, I’m paraphrasing the pure hokum doctors often spouted about women during this era, that the true root of Viola’s crazy lay in her lady bits, which puberty magnified, and Charles’s wicked conduct together with his abrupt rejection exacerbated. The cumulative effect of all these factors turned Viola into a degenerate.

It took less than an hour for the jury to find Viola ‘not guilty by reason of insanity.’

The question is, was she? Was Viola really insane at the time she poisoned Anna Morey? He was her boss, and if what Viola’s friend Eva said is true, it sounds like Charles groomed her. Thereby making his sudden break-up all the more callous and cruel. And if, in the heat of the moment, she set his desk ablaze, stabbed him with a letter opener, or poisoned his favorite bottle of bourbon — I’d get it.

However, Viola waited just shy of eight months before acting, and she had that box of candied cherries and walnuts prepared before stepping into that hotel dining room on April 10, 1899. Making me wonder if coincidence or premeditation fueled Viola’s choice to dine at the same establishment on the same afternoon as Charles and Anna’s standing lunch date…..But as the papers noted from the beginning, Viola’s reputation, popularity, and well known family drama made a conviction highly unlikely — especially after her lawyers gave the jury an alternate person to blame.

In any case, after the reading of the verdict, Viola stood up, gave one long piercing shriek, and fainted. Upon being revived by her sister Luella, both women thanked the jury profusely. When the press asked Viola about her next life steps, she told them she planned to return to Oak Lawn Sanitarium for a few months before traveling to New York City to stay with Luella and her husband — for a fresh start.

And it seems she did.

In the few lines in which her name appeared in the papers over the years after her acquittal, Viola Horlocker did indeed travel to New York. Where, for a few years at least, she performed music professionally. She married a man with the surname of Adams, moved to Tujunga, California, and was alive, if not well, as of February 16, 1939.

Caustic Candy: Planting Doubt

September 24, 2023August 18, 2023Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

(Two different pics of Viola Horlocker.)

Undoubtedly aware of the scandal Charles Morey narrowly managed to dodge the summer before, Dr. Cook didn’t need to strain any mental muscles persuading Sheriff Simmering to take a closer look at Viola Horlocker for the attempted murder of Mrs. Anna Morey and her friends. When the lawman learned Viola and her mother hightailed it out of town a few hours after Dr. Cook’s accusation? The twenty-five-year-old law clerk became suspect numero uno. Viola’s sister, who was visiting Hastings, tried to explain to the Sheriff that the hastily taken trip was due to the disquiet caused by Dr. Cook’s unanticipated accusation — not because it possessed any merit.

The explanation failed to hold water for the Sheriff Simmering.

Knowing when and what train Viola departed on, it didn’t take the Sheriff’s men much time to locate the wayward Viola and her mother in Sheldon, Iowa. Due to Viola’s crossing of state lines and lack of an arrest warrant, the Sheriff issued a statement to the press. Warning the Horlocker family that if Viola didn’t return to Hastings, Nebraska forthwith, he’d fetch her back to town himself.

A threat he followed through with a week later, arrest warrant in hand.

Arriving back in Hastings, Viola (apparently) created quite a spectacle when authorities tried to usher her from the train platform to a waiting cab. Sobbing, moaning, and fainting — Viola needed support to traverse the fifty or so yards to the waiting vehicle. Whilst her mother looked on, giving an unhelpful statement to the eager reporters, “Even as a child, she’s always had these funny turns.” After finally making it to the courthouse, Viola pleaded ‘not guilty’, placed under a $5,000 bond, and sent home.

While in court, her brilliant legal team, John Stevens and William R. Burton, also asked Judge Adams for a continuance to prepare Viola’s defense.

The request was granted.

The newspapers labeled their delay a sound strategy: Noting that Viola’s previously spotless reputation of a hardworking, churchgoing, and long-suffering daughter would delay the trial until autumn 1899 and would allow time for minds & memories to mellow.

As coverage of Viola’s case continued, it became readily apparent she and her lawyers needed all the help they could get.

A little over a week prior to Anna finding the box of arsenic tainted candy on her doorstep, Viola purchased one full ounce (or 900 grains) of the deadly metalloid. She then returned to the chemists on April 3rd & 10th for another two half-ounce packets of the poisonous powder (or 218 grains each). Viola’s reason for the purchase? Rats.

(Though, unless a massive rabble of rats decided to take up residence in the house’s walls, attic, crawl space, garden shed, root cellar, and garage — the purchase of two full ounces doesn’t exactly align with Viola’s explanation.)

Supplementing the prosecution’s case were various eyewitnesses who placed Viola in the Boswick Hotel at the same time as the Morey’s lunch date, on the street near their apartment, in their building, and in the hallway leading to their apartment. Together with the tried and true motive, jealousy, I’m sure Hasting’s prosecutors thought Viola’s case a slam dunk.

Despite the damning evidence mounting against her, Viola’s lawyers proved more than equal to the task.

(An advert for the sanatorium in the 1900 publication — American Journal of Surgery and Gynecology, Volume 14.)

The first order of business, they convinced Viola’s mother to commit her daughter to the Oak Lawn Sanatorium in Jacksonville, Illinois, for treatment. (From the Office of Full Disclosure: I don’t actually have documentation that her lawyers persuaded Viola to enter the sanatorium. However, this surmise feels probable with the subsequent turn of events.) Next, they asked Judge Adams for another continuance in September of 1899. Stating they needed extra time to explore their defense strategy — hypnotism. Whilst not admitting to committing the crime, her lawyers said Viola had no recollection of perpetrating the deed and claimed she was subjugated to a will stronger than her own. It was this unnamed person who instructed Viola to kill Anna Morey, and it was they who wanted her dead. Making Viola an instrument, not the guilty party.

Whilst Viola’s lawyers did not directly point the finger at Charles Morey, the newspapers did.

Digging into this sensational claim, they (rather quickly) found the kernel of truth fueling Viola’s defense. Seems Charles did indeed hypnotize Viola at least once in an effort to help rid Viola of headaches that had plagued her on and off for years. (Even back then, hypnotism stood on very, very shaky ground. However, I don’t think Viola’s lawyers ever seriously considered using it. I believe this was another means of A) buying more time and B) casting further doubt in the minds of potential jurors.)

At this point, the papers uncovered another curious detail.

During the period when the prosecution needed to charge Viola with attempted murder, the victim herself lay bedbound, recovering from arsenic poisoning. Hence, the task of pressing charges fell to Charles. Only he didn’t. The County Prosecutor did. This lack of action on Charles’s part was considered highly irregular. Perhaps Charles didn’t want to leave his wife’s side or was paralyzed by the fear of losing Anna. Either way, the newspapers didn’t report this so benevolently. Especially when editors know innuendo increases circulation, so speculation ran rampant: Because if everything between Charles and Viola in the summer of 1898 was on the up and up, it follows that the investigation into and the trial of Viola Horlocker wouldn’t uncover anything untoward. So why didn’t Charles press charges? Did he have something to hide?

There’s no smoke without fire.

Planting yet another seed of doubt in the minds of the potential jury pool.

In the spring of 1900, Viola’s lawyers asked for a third continuance. Only this time, Judge Adams denied their request. Summoning Viola home from Oak Lawn Sanatorium, where she’d spent nearly a year receiving treatment, the trial commenced on March 20, 1900 with jury selection. After two days, the lawyers finally agreed on a group of all male, well-to-do, local farmers. At which point, Judge Adams instructed the jury that the prosecution didn’t need to prove Viola was sane when she poisoned Anna Morey & friends — just that the murder attempt was made.

Unsurprisingly, Viola’s lawyers abandoned hypnotism and switched to a straight not-guilty by reason of insanity defense.

(The remnants of the Boswick Hotel, which as you can see here, caught fire in 1925.)

The first five witnesses called by the prosecution established that Viola was seen at the Boswick, walking towards the Morey’s building, and outside their flat’s door.

Until their cross-examination, whereupon: Mr. Dillon, the proprietor of the Boswick, admitted he wasn’t totally sure Viola lunched in the hotel on April 10. The second witness, a Mr. Barnes, was equally uncertain if April 10th was the exact date he’d seen Viola walking towards the Morey’s flats. The third, C. E. Cox, owned that he hadn’t actually seen Viola climb the stairs towards the Moray’s flat. He only heard a female foot tread up them. Cox’s wife testified that a veritable bevy of women ascended and descended those stairs all that day. The flat’s housekeeper, Mrs. Pottinger, testified she’d seen Viola in the Morey’s hallway, but said she’d asked after a different tenant. Viola held a similar conversation with Belle Rand a minute or two later on the Morey’s doorstep. Unfortunately for the prosecution, neither woman recalled Viola holding a fancy candy box.

Mrs. Anna Morey took the stand, confirming her sighting and hasty retreat of Viola from the hotel’s dining room. Plus her recollection of the circumstances surrounding the receipt of the poisoned box of candy.

Finally, the prosecution summoned Charles Morey to the stand.

*Cue the fireworks.*

Caustic Candy: The Alleged Crimes of Viola Horlocker

September 17, 2023September 5, 2023Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

(Obviously this isn’t a map from 1898.)

Continuing on our theme of unexpected deliveries, tainted sweets, and copycats of Cordelia Botkin (who murdered two women by sending poisoned chocolates through the mail), we are going to put St. Louis (Mo.), Florence McVean, and her sister Mary McGraw in our review mirrors and travel roughly five-hundred-and-twenty-six miles northwest to Hastings, Nebraska to meet Viola Horlocker.

Known as Ollie, though I will continue to refer to her as Viola for constancy’s sake, she was the second oldest of four sisters. By the spring of 1898, all save Viola had left home. The oldest, Luella, became a highly regarded painter of porcelain china. Lita went on to become an accomplished artist in the field of flower painting and arranging. Whilst Zora made a name for herself as a professional singer. Like her sisters, Viola also possessed a musical streak, which she showed to full advantage by singing and arranging music for the church’s choir. Though not considered a beauty, Hasting’s society did find Viola attractive, fashionable, and “well above mediocrity in every way”.

However, things weren’t as rosy as they appeared at first blush.

Viola’s father, George, not only made and lost a vast fortune, he also abandoned his entire family when Viola was a teenager. An event that surprised no one in the community, as next-door neighbors were often treated to the auditory splendor of knock-down-drag-out fights between the Mr. and Mrs. of the Horlocker household. (At one point, during one of these vicious rows, said neighbors felt the need to intervene. Upon locating the source of the commotion, they found Mrs. Horlocker beating George with a pot about the head and shoulders in the kitchen. Noting the number of dents in the cookware, neighbors surmised this wasn’t the first time something along these lines happened.) After her husband’s hasty exit stage left, Mrs. Horlocker turned her capricious temper, bitter disposition, and sour tongue on her daughters. Driving each and every one to seek out respectable employment in cities hundreds of miles away from their mother.

Save Viola.

Viola stayed behind to cope with a maternal figure, who was not mellowing with age, alone. Again, this turn of events wasn’t wholly unexpected. Viola’s sense of duty to her family found her stepping up to provide for her mother and two younger sisters (as Luella was already out of the house and state by this point) after their father departed. Educating herself in the law, Viola worked as the deputy county clerk for four years until she accepted a position at Tibbets Bros. & Morey. Where her work was considered exemplary. (There is a bit of discrepancy regarding her exact role in the firm. The newspapers labeled her a stenographer. However, during the trial, the Tibbets brothers said Viola drew up flawless legal documents for them….Which sounds more involved than what a stenographer normally does? I’m not really sure. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time newspapers of this era chose a dumbed down a woman’s job title to avoid confusing their readers.)

Enter Charles F. Morey.

Prior to joining the prestigious firm as a junior partner, he’d held the office of City Attorney for years. Now, it’s unclear if Viola and Charles knew each other before joining the same firm, but either way, they soon became acquainted — as Viola was assigned to assist him. By the time spring rolled around in 1898, the two were friendly enough that Charles introduced Viola to his wife and tried to encourage a friendship between the two women. He also invited Viola to join his cycling club….Naturally, Charles accompanied Viola home after each meeting or tour — to make sure she arrived safely.

Fast forward a few months to the summer of 1898: Anna, Charels’s wife, left Hastings for a few months.

Almost immediately, Charles and Viola started spending ever increasing amounts of time together. They’d go for long, winding rides in the country, where Charles confided in Viola about his work, career aims, and struggles at home. Viola, in turn, vented to Charles about her troubled home life and mercurial mother. Charles then began asking Viola to stay on after everyone else in the office left for the day, for more long talks, which more often than not spilled over into dinner at one restaurant or another. If Viola felt she couldn’t leave her mother alone on a particular evening, Charles would accompany her home, and they’d sit out on her porch for hours talking.

After three months of this constant association, the local newspaper’s gossip column weighed in on what the Hasting’s busybodies had already started whispering about: What would Anna say if she knew her husband was spending such copious amounts of time with his young female law clerk? As they say: While the cat’s away, the mice will play. Though the paper didn’t print their names, everyone in Hastings knew (or was subsequently informed of) who the couple in question was. This potentially embarrassing situation prompted one of the Tibbets brothers to pull Morey aside and advise him to cool it with Viola.

Counsel Charles willingly complied with as his wife was due home in days.

To say Viola took Charles’s news badly would be an understatement. However, she soon learned no amount of protestation or pleading would alter Charles’s mind. He even went so far as to have Viola reassigned to one of the Tibbets, further limiting Viola’s opportunities to spend time with him. And whilst her work didn’t suffer, after Charles dropped her like a hot stone, her manner did. Over the subsequent fall and winter months, Viola’s demeanor turned increasingly irritable, nervous, and depressed….

Until everything came to a head on April 10, 1899.

According to the newspapers, the bare bones of the “incident” went something like this: Whilst Charles occupied his days with lawyering. His wife Anna added to the household coffers by teaching art, drawing, and painting to the well-to-do women (and their daughters) of Hastings. And by all accounts, both Anna and her classes were remarkably popular. Due to the duo’s demanding professional calendars, Charles and Anna chose to consciously carve out time to spend together.

One such hewn event was a standing Monday lunch date at the Boswick Hotel.

On this particular April day, after finishing their meal and parting ways until quitting time, Anna rushed home to prepare for a class. When she arrived at their apartment’s door, Anna found a box of candy sitting on the mat. The attached card identified the gift giver as one of Anna’s good friends, Miss Kirby. Still needing to zoom, Anna Morey set the box aside and started prepping her studio for the impending art class. A short while later, with everything sorted and five out of six students on hand, Anna opened the box of homemade candy. Passing the sugared walnuts and cherries around, the group partook while they waited for the last class member.

(Okay, these aren’t the candied varieties, but you get the drift. Thanks to Joanna Kosinska & Tom Hermans & Unsplash for these photos.)

Who, in an odd case of serendipity, just happened to be Miss Kirby.

Upon Anna’s thanks for the unexpected box of sweets, Miss Kirby denied making or sending Anna the candy. Unsurprisingly, this contradiction frightened everyone: The notorious trial of Cordelia Botkin had only wrapped up five months prior and copycat crimes, like Florence McVean’s, had proliferated on newspaper’s front pages across the country ever since.

Compounding this disquiet, everyone who’d nibbled on a piece or two or three — started feeling queasy. Uncertain whether the power of suggestion or something more diabolical was causing their gastric distress, the group of budding artists sent for a doctor….Who, after arriving, rapidly determined he’d a genuine case of poisoning on his hands. After treating/stabilizing the group of women, the doctor sent the remaining candied fruit and nuts out for testing.

The very first piece tested came back as containing four grains of arsenic.

Now, if I understand how this largely defunct unit of measurement works (please correct me, nicely, if I’m wrong), one grain equals just a smidge under 65mg. Experts consider a lethal dose of arsenic between 100-300mg (depending on things like body mass, tolerance, and overall health). So if each piece of the tainted candy contained four grains or about 258mg of arsenic…..That sextet of women should thank the gods above and below for escaping the afternoon of April 10th with their lives. Anna Morey, in particular, should light a candle. The only reason the tainted sweets didn’t kill her outright was that she threw up a large measure of the arsenic she’d eaten. As it was, Anna was bed-bound for weeks afterward as the toxic substance worked its way out of her system — her husband continuously by her side.

News of Anna’s mysterious poisoning spread like wildfire through Hastings.

Two days after the ‘incident’ Viola, who’d continued to work diligently at the firm whilst gossiping with everyone else over nearly fatal turn of events, ran into a family friend at the drugstore. Well acquainted with the gossipworthy happenings betwixt Charles and Viola the summer before Dr. Cook voiced his growing suspicion: “Ollie, how could you do this?”* To say this brought their conversation to an abrupt end is an understatment, as Viola apparently fainted then staggered away from the good doctor as fast as humanly possible after regaining her senses….Then, later that same evening, she and her mother boarded an eastbound Burlington Train and left town.

Because running away after someone accuses you of attempted murder ALWAYS makes you appear innocent.

*(There’s a variant of this story where one of the Tibbets Brothers accuses Viola. However, the majority of the newspapers printed the Dr. Cook version.)

Caustic Candy: Copycats of Cordelia Botkin

September 3, 2023September 5, 2023Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

(A pic of Cordelia Botkin from the San Fransisco Call.)

Last week I touched briefly on the true-crime case of Cordelia Botkin. As it happens, she’s the lynchpin in the spat of turn-of-the-century poisoned candy cases in the US, and let me tell you, her case had it all: A talented reporter who fell from grace, an adulterous affair conducted by an older woman with a younger man (which was far more whisper worthy back in 1898), a US Senator, anonymous letters, and a cross country murder plot which paired arsenic tainted chocolates with the postal system to complete the dastardly deed. (If you want a more comprehensive account of Cordelia Botkin’s misdeeds, check out episode #134 of the Poisoner’s Cabinet podcast.)

Unsurprisingly, newspapers across the country splashed Cordelia’s crimes across their pages for years — and the public lapped up every single word.

However, as we now know, this highly publicized poisoning case wasn’t exactly good news for law enforcement. Whilst Cordelia was by no means the first poisoner to mail a box of toxic sweets in the hopes of dispatching a rival, a wealthy relative, or the perpetrator of past slights — she was by far the most (in)famous. Convicted twice, first in 1898 and again in 1904 (after winning an appeal for a retrial), forces of law and order knew it was only a matter of time before copycats began creeping out of the woodwork.

They didn’t need to wait long.

In January of 1899, mere weeks after Cordelia Botkin’s first trial concluded, Florence McVean began suffering from an acute case of nerves. The thirty-five-year-old widow of a prominent doctor, Florence, lived with her mother and younger sister at No. 4015 Cook Avenue in St. Louis, Missouri. After a couple weeks, Florence confided in her sister, Miss McGraw*, the source of her troubles: Poison Pen Letters. Being a good sister, Miss McGraw began intercepting the caustic communiques before her sister could see them, helping restore some of Francis’s peace of mind.

Fast forward a few more weeks, to around February 7, 1899 (the newspapers weren’t clear on the exact date), when an anonymous box of bonbons arrived at the house without a note and addressed to Florence.

Instantly suspicious of the unrequested sweets, Miss McGraw took both the box of chocolates and the stack of malicious missives to Police Chief Campbell and told her sister’s tale. During said recitation, she aimed authorities at one Miss Zoe Graham — to whom Miss McGraw, Florence, and their mother firmly believed was the author of all. The question was, why? Why would the twenty-two-year-old daughter of a prominent St. Louis plumbing contractor stoop to such crimes and misdemeanors? The answer, of course (sigh), was a man. Doctor Glasgow, a well-respected physician & eligible bachelor, had been calling on both Zoe and Florence.

Obviously, Zoe wanted to keep Florence from nabbing the catch of the county.

Knowing from which side his bread was buttered, Sheriff Campbell wisely chose to test the candy prior to tackling the well-to-do Graham family. Submitting the box of chocolates to the City Chemist for testing, the Sheriff quickly learned that each chocolate had been rolled in a powder containing arsenic, imbuing each piece with lethal levels of the metalloid.

Now possessing definite proof of murderous intent, Chief Campbell began looking into the finer points of Miss McGraw’s story. Which inevitably brought him to Doctor Frank A. Glasgow’s doorstep, whereupon, the distinguished young doctor informed him of a massive flaw in Miss McGraw’s theory: His interest in Florence was purely professional. He’d only looked in on Mrs. McVean to treat her for one malady or another — simple as that. Doctor Glasgow further complicated and confused proceedings by producing a sheaf of Poison Pen Letters, which he’d received over the course of a few weeks, all of which warned him to stay away from Florence — as she had “designs” on him.

Taking possession of the second set of noxious notes, determined to compare them to the first, Chief Campbell turned his eyes slowly toward his prime suspect. However, in a surprising twist of fate, the Chief didn’t need to bother pussyfooting around Zoe Graham and her parents. As both she and her mother showed up, unannounced and madder than a pair of wet hens, at the police station to see him. Evidently, Florence and her female relations had been broadcasting hither, thither, and yon to anyone and everyone (including several veiled references printed in multiple newspapers across the region) their suspicions about Zoe. The indignant Mrs. Graham wanted to press charges against Florence for dragging her innocent daughter into the whole affair and their insistence on throwing mud at Zoe’s good name. Whilst the Prosecuting Attorney refused to issue a warrant for Florence’s arrest, Miss & Mrs. Graham’s visit provided Sheriff Campbell with another critical clue — the younger woman’s alibi, which, according to his subsequent investigation and statements on the subject, was cast iron.

(Obviously, not a picture of the actual chocolates, from the limited descriptions I found — I thought they might look something like these. Thanks to Merve Aydın & Unsplash for the photo.)

This development might’ve thrown a spanner into investigation had Sheriff Campbell’s detectives not run down the source of the tainted bonbons. Enter Miss Henley of the Busy Bee Candy Store: Who could not only describe the woman who purchased the box of sweet treats, she could put a name to the face — as she’d kept the mystery woman’s calling card so the store could ship her her purchase. Though Miss Henley’s true coup de grace was her positive identification of the chocolate’s purchaser……

A one Mrs. Florence McVean!

Rolling with this unforeseen twist, Chief Campbell returned to Doctor Glasgow’s doormat and asked if he had any correspondence, notes, or even a grocery list in Florence’s hand. The only scrap the good doctor could share with authorities was an envelope Florence had addressed to him. Upon comparing the exemplar to the handwritten noxious notes, the handwriting appeared similar but wasn’t a conclusive match. Seems the letter writer had taken steps to disguise themselves. Of the countermeasures employed, all are classics: writing in all capital letters, failing to sign the missive itself, and using commonly available stationary (in this case, cheap ruled paper). Piling onto this circumstantial evidence were the postmarks stamped onto the envelopes. Apparently, every postmark indicated the letters were mailed from a postal territory only a stone’s throw away from Florence’s home.

Thoroughly convinced Florence was the architect of her own misery Sheriff Campbell immediately dropped his investigation and turned the case over to the Federal Authorities. (They didn’t say which branch, but I’m reasonably certain it was the US Postal Inspection Service.) Who, in turn, dropped the case as well due to the lack of direct evidence linking Florence to the Poison Pen Letters or the Chocolates. Sheriff Campbell also, to reassure the public there wasn’t a mad poisoner stalking the citizens of St. Louis, presented his findings to the press — who were more than willing to take the story and run.

After the story broke, Florence went into hiding for a few days, leaving her mother and sister Mary to defend her in her absence. When she returned, Florence vehemently denied the allegations against her. Contending to anyone willing to listen, she’d not set foot in downtown St. Louis, where the Busy Bee Candy Shop was located, for several months. Secondly, Florence claimed that poison pen letters continued to arrive in the mail. And why on earth would she continue to write them if authorities didn’t believe her? Miss Mary McGraw corroborated both claims….to no avail. Neither the papers, police, nor the populace of St. Louis were swallowing Florence’s defense.

Then came the night of March 14, 1899.

*(I’ve read no less than four wildly different variations of Florence’s sister’s name in the newspaper articles I referenced for these posts — I’m sticking with Miss McGraw as it was the most legible of the lot.)