With degrees in physics and chemistry, Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 30 years. His novel, short stories, and poems are works still defining his style. He lives in 1974, has been married for 26 years, and collects occupations (the current tally is 95).
I Knew Her as Francine
Personal Journal: July 15, 1891
I knew her as Francine.
In reality, I didn’t actually know her; I only knew of her. But, what I knew was everything there was to know.
Francine McCallister, aka Francine Jonesburg, aka Francine Potter, aka Janice Potter, aka Janice Smithson was a woman as fluid as a cloud. She moved unencumbered from one point in her life to the next, regretting nothing, taking nothing with her, leaving nothing but memories if others even bothered to remember. Francine wasn’t a ghost, but she was as difficult to track as one. I should know. My insurance company hired me to do just that. I work on a 5% commission of what I save them in insurance fraud. Francine was an expert in insurance fraud. I was the wizard in insurance fraud investigation.
So far, I liked my odds.
I followed what leads I found and scoured the land for signs of Francine’s excessive spending habits. She was a fancier of fine living, fine jewelry, and high stakes gambling. The first two she mastered in her teens. The last often eluded her clutches. Once her money disappeared, Francine disappeared. She frequently surfaced as a new bride in a new town with a new insurance policy on a newly deceased new husband. I am certain she did not do the killing herself, however, Francine usually spearheaded the plan and directed the execution to perfection. Dividing a lump sum insurance settlement with her cohorts usually precluded a midnight escape prior to presented claims against old gambling debts.
Her modus operandi concluded with a hasty retreat under the cover of darkness, a new identity, and a new town. After trailing her for months, it is in this scene of her one act play that I find myself barely two weeks behind her trail.
I am close.
And she does not even know I exist.
All I have been doing is traveling from town to town inquiring about newly written life insurance policies with large cash payouts. Rarely am I within three weeks of the beneficiary making a cash claim. This time, today, I am in Topeka, scrutinizing the details of a $5000 life insurance policy on Mr. Julian Tidrow, a circus performer, with a new wife, and an (apparently) popular knife throwing performance. Mr. Tidrow, as advertised, can throw a series of knives, while blindfolded, at his wife, after securing her to a rotating plank of lumber, while not laying harm to her person in any manner whatsoever.
The circus bill does not fit the pattern of Miss McCallister, but it does involve enough of a payment to warrant my further investigation.
The circus will be in town for three more days. Ironically, so will I.
I encountered Mr. Tidrow practicing his skills with an outline of his wife during the morning hours. His performance was not scheduled to begin until later that evening. Without disturbing the maestro, I marveled at his accuracy. All twelve knives found their mark within one inch of the pitched outline revolving before me. Even if his blindfold was not opaque as claimed, his skill was more than well honed. Once finished, I introduced myself and my purpose.
Mr. Tidrow was an amiable fellow, enthused by my enthusiasm, and eager to introduce me to his ladies. I raised an eyebrow before he explained. He whistled loudly and three women, all blond, all dressed daringly alike to distract the men in the forthcoming performances appeared and awaited their formal introductions. He introduced the first as his wife of four months, Mrs. Rose Tidrow. The next two Julian introduced as Suzie and Lucy (sisters) and in training to replace Mrs. Tidrow who wanted to exit her chosen career as a target to begin her new one as a mother (due in six months). All three were kind and gracious in their demeanor. The sisters seemed very excited to be part of the act. The circus gave them a new purpose in life and the ability to leave the rural community to see the world. All in all, I found no malfeasance from these four. I did not divulge all of the details of my purpose, only that their insurance carrier found it strange that the thrower of the knives, and not the target, was the insured. It should have been the other way.
Mr. Tidrow bellowed with a loud laugh before he clarified his purpose. Because he was the only knife thrower in the circus and possibly the best knife thrower in the world, he was the act. Should he die, he wished to establish enough funds for his wife and unborn child to live comfortably. The sisters would receive a stipend during their time in find another position, not to exceed one year in duration. The chance of a non-smoking, non-drinking, non-gambling man perishing prior to an exceedingly old age was slim. The policy was just that, insurance against the improbable.
I thanked all four of them and divulged my intention to attend this evening’s performance. They all waived me goodbye as I departed.
I was happy to have met the lot. However, I was still skeptical by nature.
The Tidrow Knife Extravaganza was scheduled for 8pm. I was not even 10am. There was more than enough time for Francine to make an appearance and thus a disappearance. I saw it before. I do not wish to witness history repeat itself.
I rented a room in a nearby hotel and took an afternoon nap. My ticket to tonight’s performances said a 7pm start. This gave me enough time to dine in one of Topeka’s many fine steak houses. After waiting in line for nearly thirty minutes and greeting other patrons in the pack dining hall, I had just enough time to finish my dinner, partake of a whiskey, and saunter to the circus. My goal tonight was to watch the Tidrow knife act and then watch Mr. Tidrow for the rest of the night. If I were Miss McCallister, I wouldn’t permit such a perfect opportunity to pass.
By ten til eight, I receive a note from Lucy (one of the sisters) to immediately come back stage. I hurried and was greeted by Lucy in tears. She said that Mr. Tidrow was dead. I pushed forward and found Mr. Tidrow bound and gagged to the spinning wheel his wife so recently frequented. Near his person were three knives embedded in the wood. In his chest was one knife embedded to the hilt. Both Mrs. Tidrow and Suzie lay dead on the sawdust floor, each having stabbed the other with two of the remaining knives.
I calmed Lucy enough to listen to her testimony. She said Mrs. Tidrow caught Mr. Tidrow and Suzie in a compromising position. Mrs. Tidrow hit Mr. Tidrow over the head with the knife hilt knocking him unconscious. Suzie (with a knife) lunged at Mrs. Tidrow. Her balance was neither as refined nor practiced as that of Rose. Lucy said Rose (with a knife) lunged at Suzie. Both women stabbed each other and died immediately of their wounds. That is when Lucy ran and saw me in the crowd. She wrote a note for me to go backstage and asked a circus hand to deliver it. It took me a few minutes to make my way through the thickening crowd of nearly two thousand patrons. When I arrived, I found Rose, Suzie, and Julian deceased. Lucy was in tears. The Ringmaster of the circus (always at the ready) diverted the attention of the crowd by extending the duration of each act until he could find any replacement for the Knife Extravaganza.
It would take nearly two hours for the Ringmaster to admit defeat.
A single call to the Sheriff and the deputies removed all three bodies. All that remained was Lucy.
I helped escort Lucy to the Sheriff’s office where she made her formal statement. I had no other reason to doubt her story. She stood to gain a mere pittance, what Julian referred to as a stipend a mere $5 per week for a year. The former Mr. Tidrow was insured by a friendly competitor of mine and I found a small pleasure in knowing they had to pay off the policy to a dead woman with no heirs. Both the Sheriff and I agreed the death of a pregnant woman was indeed tragic. He asked me what I was going to do. I told him I was going to Lincoln, Nebraska to follow a lead about a new widower who possessed nearly 50000 acres of rich farmland. We both shook hands and I departed Topeka at sunrise the next day.
Then, I returned at sunset the next week; this time with a Federal Marshall and an Eastern Schooled doctor.
I met with the Sheriff and his fiancé, a Miss Lucy Barcley and had them both immediately arrested for murder and insurance fraud. Miss Lucy immediately protested her incarceration. The Sheriff found solace in silence. Both demanded a lawyer.
By morning, both would need a very good lawyer.
I contended that Miss Lucy was not Miss Lucy, but rather the widowed Francine (McCallister) Tidrow.
How did I know this?
Because the good doctor is a very good maternity and baby doctor.
Lucy was not pregnant, but Rose Tidrow was.
So how is the deceased Mrs. Tidrow not pregnant and the living Lucy is already at three months?
Since all three ladies (Suzie, Lucy, and Rose) looked alike and dressed alike to a recent acquaintance such as me, it should be difficult to tell them apart.
However, I didn’t have to.
Rose Tidrow, if she was Francine, would be operating from a basis of greed. I believe she took out the insurance policy on Mr. Tidrow and had him add the rider to pay the replacements (Lucy and Suzie), not out of charity, but more for a diversion. If Rose could get either Suzy or Lucy to fall for Julian Tidrow, then Rose could kill her husband in a fit of emotional rage. If all three women dressed and acted alike (not to Mr. Tidrow who knew them all, but to a newcomer such as myself), then Rose could kill either Suzie or Lucy (whoever was the true lover of Mr. Tidrow) and blame her for both murders. Only the fact that Mr. Tidrow didn’t have one lover, he had two (both Suzie and Lucy), gave Mrs. Rose Tidrow a unique opportunity. Rose killed Julian with the knives. Now it didn’t matter. Either Suzie or Lucy could come in and see Mr. Tidrow dead. Then Rose would kill the girl. A brief call to the other (either Lucy or Suzie) and Rose would kill them also. Rose gave a great performance as Lucy and directed me to find the ghastly scene. I arrived, and then the Sheriff, and the both of us declare the three deaths as crimes of passions. No suspicion befalls Lucy for she will not benefit greatly from Mr. Tidrow’s insurance policy. I leave in the morning. The circus leaves in two days. The grieving Lucy (actually the widow Rose Tidrow) suddenly finds love in the arms of the Sheriff and the two are soon engaged to be married. That is the story I accepted when I departed Topeka.
I returned with experts and a new theory.
I still believe that Lucy Barcley is Mrs. Rose Tidrow is Miss Francine McCallister. My hired doctor can prove that she is pregnant. The Federal Marshall inquired to a few bankers to find the debt load of the Sherriff amounts to nearly $1000 in overdue loans.
I believe that the Sherriff, who had ample opportunity to meet and greet the circus performers, knows that Lucy is Rose. Their engagement is simply a ruse to wait for me to leave (permanently) so Lucy (Rose) can discreetly claim Mr. Tidrow’s insurance policy, pay the Sherriff his $1000, and leave a very wealthy woman. All he must do to earn his money is falsely file the paperwork (full of lies no one would ever read).
I know all of this as a fact. I am positive. However, I cannot prove any of it. The Sherriff knows this. The Marshall knows this. Specifically, Lucy-Rose-Francine knows this. Her attorney advised her to remain calm and quiet. After two days, the Marshall ordered the release of Lucy and the Sheriff and wished them both a happy marriage. Then, he publically scolded me for incompetence.
I permanently left Topeka that day.
But, I did not leave ashamed or sorry.
It took eight months, but I encountered Miss McCallister in Lincoln, Nebraska posing as Sarah Montingue, heiress to some coal baron fortune and eager to find a suitable husband of similar taste and wealth. My brother, posing as a rich widower with 50000 acres of rich farmland, found her anxious to merge both fortunes and secure her with a lucrative life insurance policy for him. My brother agreed to her terms if the life insurance policy covered both of their lives. With a $20000 benefit at stake, Miss Montingue agreed to be wed.
The wedding lasted a mere 1 hour. The marriage lasted the rest of the day. Unfortunately, a bandit raided the home of the wealthy landowner, with thievery as the sole intent, and encountered the bride attempting to negotiate a deal for nearly $1000 of the insurance benefit in exchange for the bandit not killer her.
Unlike the Sheriff of Topeka, I did not have debts hanging over my head. However, after years of dismal failures, I did have a wealth insufficient to retire upon. $1000 will not last for the duration of my life. What my brother offered ($10000 or half) was more than enough to live comfortably in the style to which I have want to become accustomed. While not a wealthy landowner, my brother did sign the insurance policy in his real name, thus avoiding the charge of fraud when claiming the benefit.
All that remained between me and a nice retirement was Sarah Montingue, aka Miss Francine McCallister, and one bullet of the 45 Colt caliber.
She hit the floor in a somewhat less-than-graceful manner.
At four cents a shell, I can afford to reload.