A Cry From the Grave: An Ellis H. Parker Mystery
Super detective Ellis H. Parker returns, not long after, "The Case of the Disappearing Parrot," for another tale of grim deeds in The Garden State. Get ready for Kinda Murdery's, "A Cry from the Grave: An Ellis H. Parker Mystery!"
Sources:
https://dn790009.ca.archive.org/0/items/TrueDetectiveDec1928/TrueDetectiveDec1928.pdf
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Zevon Odelberg is a true crime podcast host and disability advocate. Zevon has cerebral palsy and he wants Kinda Murdery to be welcoming community for people with disabilities and for people living with challenges of any kind. Life can be hard, but being together makes it better.
Warning, Kind of Murdery contains adult themes, explicit language, and descriptions of
violence. It is not suitable for anyone, and we recommend you stop listening
now. True crime with a dash of the paranormal, the garish, the
strange in the darkly comic. I'm zevn Odeleberg, host of Kind of Murdery,
a podcast that's about more than just murder. It's my very own pocket
dimension, home to a curated collection of bizarre and compelling stories, the unsolved,
the unsettling, and the unbelievable. I cover it all just so long
as it's kind of Murdery. Welcome everybody. I am zevn Odelberg, and
this is kind of Murdery, and I am glad that you are here.
Along the lines of the Case of the Disappearing Parrot, I am bringing you
another Ellis H. Parker mystery. I found this one in the December nineteen
twenty eight issue of True Detective Magazine, and I'm going to start telling it
to you right now. I will say that this time around, I'm going
to pass on doing my amateur New Jersey accent. So as you may recall,
LSH. Parker was the chief of detectives for Burlington County, New Jersey,
and he liked to tell his stories to Alan Hine from the Boston Post.
Last time I did my best, like I said, amateur Jersey accent.
This time, Parker will just be speaking with my voice. But hopefully
you'll forgive me for that. All right, let's do it. If you're
ready, please join me as we uncover what truths we can and solve what
mysteries we may, kind of murderies. The Cry from the Grave, An
lsh Parker Mystery Part one starts Nowrstown, New Jersey, is a quiet,
beautiful Quaker settlement, much the same as thousands of other small American communities.
Along about dusk, the children drop their play, scurry home to their evening
meal, and then go to bed. Nobody would pick Moorestown as the scene
of a dastardly crime. Still, it was there in Morstown that I encountered
a case of killing perpetrated by a man who was, beyond all doubt,
the most fiendish and cunning arch criminal that I have ever come in contact with
during thirty five years of man hunting. First, allow me to give you
a little bit of the background of the case, which had me baffled for
almost five months. Alfred and Charles Russo, eleven year old twins, were
returning to their home in Moorestown after having attended a baseball game on Saturday afternoon,
June fourth, nineteen twenty one. It was about six o'clock in the
evening. At the corner of Third Street and Chester Avenue, half a block
from their home, they saw their sister, Matilda, who would soon have
been eight years of age. Matilda was one of the most beautiful children that
God ever made. She possessed an abundance of beautiful dark hair and had large,
laughing brown eyes. She would have been an ideal model for an artist.
She was so startlingly pretty, in fact, that strangers often stopped her
on the street to ask her name, and sometimes called upon her parents,
mister and missus Michael Russo, with a view of becoming better acquainted with the
little girl. Side note this sounds a little creepy with all the awareness that
we have today in twenty twenty four. But let's pretend, at least for
now, that that was an ordinary sort of occurrence in nineteen twenty one,
and keep pushing forward with the story. I do fear though that it is
going to turn out to be pretty freaking creepy, all right, back to
it. Because of people's fascination with Matilda, her parents highly respected people made
many new friends, her parents being mister and missus Michael Russo. Mister Russo,
the father of a large family, owned the leading tailoring establishment in On
that Saturday afternoon, when Charles and Alfred saw their sister, she was playing
a game on the sidewalk, hopscotch. I think it was she was alone.
Better come on home and get washed up for suppersists, said Charles.
No, don't want to, answered Matilda. Something terrible will happen if you
don't warn. The brother little realizing just how true his words were. Oh
no, won't come home, insisted the little girl. All right, said
Charles, going on his way with Alfred. Just you see what happens.
Matilda laughed and went on with her play. Not long afterward, Matilda's father,
on his way home from business, saw his little girl still playing as
only a happy child can play. Come on home, Matilda, dinner'll be
ready. Please let me finish just this last game, daddy, Mister Russo
laughed, consented to Matilda's finishing the last game and left the child. That
was the last time that any of the Russo's ever saw little Matilda alive,
for even as the child played, a fiend was putting the finishing touches on
a grave. When mister Russo came downstairs to dinner after changing his clothes,
he asked if Matilda had returned yet. On being informed that she had not,
he said that he would let his dinner wait while he went out and
brought her in. When he reached the spot where he had last seen Matilda,
the child was not there. Matilda shouted the father, who afterwards said
to me that something within him told him that some evil had befallen his daughter.
There was no answer, Although fearful of some mishap, mister Russo pulled
himself together, thinking that Matilda was playing one of her jokes on him,
and searched the vicinity. He hoped, against hope, as the minutes wore
on, that he would find the little girl hiding behind a tree ready to
spring out at him. Laughing at his discomfort, He searched, and he
searched, but the hunt was unrewarded. The Russo homes sat far back from
the street as did most of the homes in that section of the town.
On one side of the Russo residence was a small house occupied by mister and
missus Lewis Lively and their eight year old son, Louis. Slivelies were an
African American couple. They were very light in color, and that was one
of the reasons that they were permitted to live in the locality in question.
Remember once again, this is nineteen twenty one and it's a first person story,
so these aren't my descriptions. The Livelies were well thought of in the
neighborhood. After searching for his daughter for more than half an hour, mister
Russo stopped at the Lively home to ask if his child had been seen.
Lively, sitting on his back porch, said that he had seen Matilda only
an hour previously while she was playing, but that he had not seen or
heard the child since he had eaten dinner. When mister Russo arrived back at
his home and found that Matilda had not returned, he called the Moorstown Police,
notifying them of her disappearance. The Russo's and the police spent the remainder
of the evening calling up friends and relatives of the Russos to see if Matilda
had gone away with them. People living near the Russo's were also questioned.
Late that night, Missus Russo was doing some ironing and her mind had momentarily
wandered from her thoughts of her missing daughter, when suddenly she heard the child
call mother. Instantly, Missus Russo rushed into the yard and called, where
are you Matilda? No answer. The mother repeated her question, and the
neighbors heard her. There was still no answer. That's strange, Michael,
said Missus Russo to her husband when she returned to the house. I was
sure I heard Matilda calling me. The next day, Chief of Police John
Bradshaw of Morristown called me by phone while I was at my home in Mount
Holly, several miles away. After the usual hellos and identifications, Chief Bradshaw
said, there's a little girl been missing from her home since early last night.
Listen Ellis said, it looks funny. We can't seem to find any
trace of her. What would you advise? Get a picture of the girl,
I said, and have it put in the cambin in Philadelphia newspapers,
along with a detailed description of the child. If you run across anything that
looks strange, call me at once. On the following morning, Chief Bradshaw
again called me by the phone. Still no trace of the missing girl Ellis,
but the mother insists that she heard her child's voice in the neighborhood.
You better come down, I think. I at once got in touch with
some of my staff, Detective Clifford Kane and my secretary, Miss Anna Use.
Now, as you've heard recently, Miss Herman Bating, who is quite
indispensable to me because she can always be depended upon to give me the woman's
point of view. Anna, although she is now married, is still my
secretary, and in her quiet way, she often notices things that I overlook
and then suggests them to me. And it was Anna who played a rather
important part in the solution of the Russo case, as you'll find out later.
Arriving in Morristown, we all three went directly to police headquarters, where
I learned the facts that I have already related to you. We then proceeded
to the Russo home. The family was of course naturally much upset. When
I talked to missus Russo, a woman of high intelligence, she told me
that she knew her child was dead, I tried to comfort her. After
all, my many years of detective work have not made me so hard boiled
that I've forgotten the essential things of life, paramount among which are courtesy and
the consideration for others. I appreciated missus Russo's state of mind, for I
have a large family of my own, and as I say, I tried
to comfort her, telling her that Matilda might have gone off with a relative
or a friend who had picked her up in a car and who had been
unable to communicate with the child's parents for some reason. I had located many
missing children well and happy days after they disappeared, I assured her. Don't
try to comfort me, Mister Parker said, Missus Russo, my child is
dead, and I know it. But why are you so sure of that?
Because I hear her screaming for me day and night. Where are the
screams coming from from the direction of mister Lively's house, she answered Chief Bradshohn.
I then decided to make a search of the Lively house. It was
a two and a half story frame affair. There were only two rooms and
a kitchenette on the first floor and two rooms on the second floor above The
second floor was aloft, which was reached by means of a trapdoor through the
ceiling of the front second floor room. We went through the house, starting
with the loft and working downward. We also searched the cellar, but all
it contained was a big pile of rubbish in the center of the floor and
a couple of aged looking pillows. The rubbish had cobwebs all over it,
indicating that it had been there for some time. We decided that no one
had been in the cellar for weeks. The rest of the house yielded no
clue of any kind which would help us in clearing up the mystery of Matilda's
disappearance. I was firmly convinced that the child had strayed away, so I
spent the remainder of the day combing the ground in the vicinity. But when
I returned home that night, I was at a complete loss to account for
the child's whereabouts. No sooner had I arrived home and finished my dinner than
the phone rang. It was Chief Bradshaw. Missus Russo just called me and
insists that her little girl screamed for her from the Lively home a few minutes
ago. She wants you to search the place once more. I'll be down
in the morning, Chief, I replied shortly after nine o'clock the next morning,
Tuesday, Chief Bradshaw and I again entered the Lively home through a side
window. Lively had gone to work and his wife and son were away on
a visit. Latched the window after gaining access to cover up our tracks.
Well, that second search was a pippin, if I do say so myself.
We were in the place for several hours and went over every inch of
the house, it seemed once more. We started from the top and worked
down. I took a flashlight and went through the trap door in the second
floor ceiling. But I saw at once that nobody had been in the loft,
because every bit of dust and dirt was intact exactly as it had been
before. There was not the slightest sign of a footprint or a fingerprint,
except those which I had made during my first visit. We then searched the
two bedrooms on the second floor. We tapped the walls for the possibility of
locating a secret panel, but to no avail. The same process was repeated
with the first floor, with the same result. We then descended the cellar
steps. I stood at the bottom step and surveyed the place critically. The
cellar was about fourteen feet square, The floor was earthen. There was positively
nothing in the place but that pile of cans in the center and the two
pillows to which I've already referred. We tapped the ground where it was not
covered by rubbish, and it was all as solid as a concrete wall.
I examined the pillar feathers oozed out from one and straw from the other.
This gave both of them the ear marks of having been there for some time.
I then kicked part of the rubbish pile lying in the center of the
floor and noticed that it was literally covered with cobwebs and small bugs. This
was a clear indication. I decided that the rubbish had not been touched for
some time. We tapped the cellar walls and gave ourselves headaches trying to think
of a single spot in the house which we had not covered. We then
concluded that the house was going to give us no clue as to the child's
whereabouts. The rest of the day was devoted to convincing Missus Russo that we'd
made a thorough search of the Lively home, dragging the nearby streams to see
if the child had accidentally fallen in the water and been drowned, and combing
the woods in the surrounding country. We even went so far as to organize
several troops of boy scouts who scoured a wide stretch of the territory in hope
of finding some trace of the missing girl. By this time, the case
was getting under my skin, so to speak. On the previous Saturday,
the day of Matilda's disappearance, Lively had left his home at night on his
motor side. He usually spent the weekend with his sister in Bridgton. His
wife and son had gone to Bridgeton a week previous. Lively was expected home
Tuesday night, so I left word with Chief Bradshaw to have him questioned upon
his return in the hope that he might shed light on the case. I
returned to Mount Holly. On the way back, my secretary said that she
thought it was queer that missus Russo heard her daughter's voice with such frequency.
I said I did too. I felt that something was going to materialize from
that phase of the case. Late that night, Chief Bradshaw called me by
telephone and informed me that Officer Jacobs, lying in wait at the Lively home,
had seen Lively return shortly after seven o'clock. When the officer asked him
to accompany him to the police headquarters to make a statement, Lively said that
he was more than willing to do so. I told Chief Bradshaw to have
the man's statement transcribed and bring it to me. Chief Bradshaw arrived at my
home early Wednesday morning with the statement. Lively had given a very plausible account
of his movements prior to at the time of and following the girl's disappearance.
The man said that he'd returned home from work Saturday afternoon, cooked his own
dinner, and then left on his motorcycle to visit his sister in Bridgeton over
the weekend. His wife and son, as I have already mentioned, had
gone to Bridgeton some days previously. Lively, who said that he was employed
as a brushmaker by a concern in Philadelphia, went into great detail regarding his
trip. He named the various towns he passed through, what time he was
at certain points along the road, and whom he saw and spoke to en
route. He said that he arrived at his sister's home fairly early in the
evening. I looked over Lively's statement rather carefully. I noticed, among other
things, that the man had voluntarily given minute details without being asked for them.
This made me suspicious, as the advancing of an alibi when not required
is usually a sign that something is in the wind. So I suggested to
Chief Bradshaw that he take his motorcycle and go over the same route that Lively
took, checking out the time and mileage between the various towns very carefully.
I also told the Chief to get statements from the people that Lively had said
he had talked with or had seen, and also to check the time of
his arrival at his sister's home in Bridgton. Chief Bradshaw completed the task and
called me on late Thursday. We found several discrepancies in Lively's story of his
trip. In the first place, we found that it would have been physically
impossible for him to make the motorcycle run from moore'stown to Bridgeton and the time
that he said he did it. In Secondly, the man had not talked
to the people he said he'd talked with, others that he claimed to have
seen. Were not even in the vicinity on the Saturday previous. Finally,
the man's sister said that he arrived at her home late Saturday night, not
early evening as he'd stated that night, I was pretty restless. I didn't
go to bed because I knew I wouldn't sleep if I did. My wife
asked me, what was on my mind. I'm upset about this little girl's
disappearance, I replied, there's something strange about it. The mother of the
girl insists that she hears her child calling her to say that, I was
greatly impressed by missus Russo's story that she heard her child's voices, putting it
quite mildly, especially as I had been thinking of another case several years before,
when a similar situation presented itself. On that occasion, also, I
was searching for a missing girl. The child's mother kept telling me that she
heard her daughter's voice. We later found the body. The child had been
drowned at a spot a mile away from her home. The mother insisted that
she had heard her child calling her at a time which was definitely fixed later
as having been after the child had been drowned. The wind was blowing in
a direction away from the mother, so she couldn't possibly have heard the child's
actual screams. But still she heard her dead child, and she knew where
the screams were coming from. The more I thought of this, applying it
to the Russo case, the more it loomed in importance. Then it dawned
on me suddenly that I might have been fooled during the search of the Lively
home. So I called Chief Bradshaw on the phone, got him out of
bed, and told him to go to Jim Taggart, the leading blacksmith of
Moorestown, have a spear made, and then go over every inch of the
Lively cellar. After Lively went to work that morning. Call it a hunch
or whatever you prefer, but something told me, as I finally went to
sleep toward the morning, that we were going to locate Matilda's body. In
a very short while, I determined and correctly that missus Russo heard the voice
of her dead child. And today, seven years after this case, she
will tell you the same thing. On Friday morning, therefore, shortly before
seven o'clock, after Lively had gone to work, Chief Bradshaw and Officer Jacobs
gained access to the house in the same manner that the Chief and I had
entered before through a side window. As the place sat far back from the
street, there was no difficulty entering unobserved at any time. Entering the dark,
musty cellar, two officers began to spear the ground not covered by rubbish.
They did their work in a very systematic manner, and there was not
an inch of the earthen floor that was not gone over. However, the
ground proved to be as solid as concrete. Then they removed the pile of
rubbish from the center of the floor, and the ground under this, at
first glance, appeared to also be as solid as the rest. It did
not show any evidence of having been dug into, but when Bradshaw poked the
spear into it, the instruments sunk. Excitedly, the two men got a
spade and Chief Bradshaw dug feverishly while Officer Jacobs looked through the displaced earth for
a bit of clothing or anything suspicious. Nothing was found. Was this effort
to result in nothing. Still, they dug on a depth of three feet
had been reached. Suddenly the spade struck something soft, dropping to their knees,
the officers removed the earth rapidly with their hands, and if you want
to find out what they found, please join me next Thursday, May sixteenth
for part two of a Cry from the Grave, an ls H. Parker
mystery. Until then, I'm Zevan Odelberg and this has been kind of murdery.
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You can find us on social media at kindo Murdery or email at Kindomurdery at
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