by Ron Finch
“What name did Nancy give the police in Rockford?”
Johnnie looked really worried. He thought for a moment and then came to a decision. He answered, “She called herself Henny.”
“What last name did she use? Speak clearly so I can hear you,” said Chief Petrovic.
“She said her name was Henny Allenby.”
“Why do you think she used that name, Johnnie?”
“At the time it made no sense to me. I thought she was being difficult with the police, but I didn’t say anything then. Later, I found out she had to use that name because it was in the Rockford telephone book.”
“The next question is even more difficult,” said Chief Petrovic. “But you’ve been so cooperative, Johnnie, that I hope you answer it truthfully. If you don’t, then you’re going to face some serious obstruction of justice charges. I know the answer to this question too, Johnnie. What did Nancy Featherstone say happened to her parents?”
Johnnie looked extremely uncomfortable and didn’t say anything for almost a minute.
“Remember, I said serious obstruction of justice charges,” Chief Petrovic reminded him. “Those charges could potentially lead to more serious charges of aiding and abetting the commission of a serious felony. If you like it in Canada, and have plans, and don’t want to spend a long time incarcerated, you’d better give me a truthful answer. Answering me truthfully now will go a long way towards the courts viewing you in a positive light. Answer my question, Johnnie. What did Nancy Featherstone say happened to her parents?”
“We didn’t talk about it much,” answered Johnnie. “We were all high on cocaine and booze one night in early 1912 when she told Ernie and me that she had killed her parents. She said it happened when she was on coke. She was really stressed and saw them as really evil beings, so she killed them to make the world a better place.
“Did she kill her parents?” Johnnie seemed genuinely surprised. “I don’t think I know anybody bad enough that they would kill their own mom and dad, and I know some pretty bad people. That doesn’t make any sense. It’s against nature.”
Chief Petrovic didn’t respond.
Johnnie continued, “Ernie and I talked about what she said a little bit, but we didn’t take her too seriously. When she was high, she would say anything and do anything. If you got her upset, she could be a dangerous woman. But she could have been making it up, too. We didn’t think about it anymore.”
“I’m very happy with your cooperation, Johnnie,” said Chief Petrovic. “I’m not going to have you detained at this time. Please do not discuss anything we talked about in this interview with anyone else, including Ernie’s brother Beno. There is a possibility you could be called as a witness in the future.”
“I’m not sure I want to be a witness,” said Johnnie.
“I know you’ll be a witness,” responded the chief. “It’s always much better to be a willing witness than to have to be subpoenaed. Thank you, Johnnie, we’re done for now.”
Johnnie was escorted from the room by a police sergeant and taken directly to the parking lot, where he was instructed to wait for Ernie. Johnnie Polizzi left looking much less content than he’d looked when he’d walked into the interview room.
Cst. Herman and Chief Petrovic talked for a few minutes about what had been revealed in the interview. They were pretty pleased and very excited about the results. The chief said, “Before the interview, I had no idea that Nancy Featherstone would have ever said anything to those two about the death of her parents. Sometimes the good guys get lucky.”
Chief Petrovic opened the door of the interview room and asked the police sergeant sitting there to please get Ernie Stanzio and bring him to the interview room.
Now it was Cst. Herman’s turn to do the interrogation. He followed Chief Petrovic’s pattern from the previous interview question by question. Whenever Cst. Herman encountered any resistance from Ernie, he would inform Ernie that Johnnie had already answered the question successfully. Ernie’s interview was much easier than the one the chief had conducted with Johnnie. He offered only minimal resistance.
When asked about Nancy Featherstone, Ernie’s answers were almost identical to the ones that Johnnie had given. He was obviously stunned by the implication that what Nancy Featherstone had said might be true. When he was informed that he might be called as a witness, he didn’t seem to be concerned. He just wanted the interview to end.
Monday, March 27th
THE 9 O’CLOCK MONDAY morning meeting in the Chaseford Chief of Police’s office started with Chief Petrovic announcing that, because of their hard work and the major developments in the murder case at the end of the past week, lunch at Mabel’s Diner was on him. It was very noisy for the next couple of minutes.
There was a real air of excitement. They had had a major break in what had started out as ‘the body parts case’ and that they now viewed as the murder of Harold and Marion Featherstone. They now had two witnesses to Henny Allenby – a.k.a. Nancy Featherstone – confessing to the murder of her parents.
But it wasn’t enough to charge Nancy Featherstone with murder. Chief Petrovic was convinced that she had committed the murders, but his opinion wouldn’t be enough to satisfy a judge or to support a request for extradition from the United States. Looking at it realistically, his major piece of evidence was a reported conversation Nancy Featherstone had had in Illinois over twenty years ago with two men known to be small-time hoodlums while they were all under the influence of drugs.
Chief Petrovic needed more. He needed a chance to interview Nancy Featherstone. That could be a problem, though, because he had no idea where she was. All searches for the current whereabouts of Nancy Featherstone, now known as Henny Allenby, had arrived at dead ends.
Chief Petrovic called the meeting to order. “We need to do some tough thinking in the next few minutes,” he said. “We need an idea. We need to locate Henny Allenby, and we need to get her to Canada.”
They discussed the possibility of searching phone directories from across Illinois from the last twenty years, but that idea was quickly dismissed because they were no longer certain of her last name. Finding her last name would mean checking marriage records from all over Illinois and perhaps beyond. That idea was too much like searching for a needle in a haystack. And if they did locate her, that still left the problem of getting her to Canada.
“There was a story in the newspaper the other day about trying to locate someone’s next of kin,” said Cst. Jay Jarvis. “It was in the Toronto Evening Telegram. The lawyer who’d been appointed executor of the estate had put the story in the paper. It was a sizable estate and two of the people named in the will couldn’t be located. They were evidently boyhood chums of the deceased. In the story, the lawyer gave their names and said that if they came forward they would have to provide proof of identification. I think we could do something like that in this case. Although we might have to embellish the truth a bit.”
“You mean lie,” said Chief Petrovic.
“I don’t think we should lie,” said Jay, “but perhaps we can choose our words carefully.”
“So, if we could create an ad for someone named Henrietta Harriet Allenby that would entice her to lay claim to something that seemed valuable, that would serve the dual purpose of locating her and getting her back to Canada,” said Chief Petrovic. “That’s a great idea, Jay, but we’ll have to be careful what we promise.”
“We know that Harold and Marion Featherstone came to a quick and violent demise,” I said. “It was a long time ago. Perhaps in their wills they left something to Henny Allenby. If that was the case, then there would be a bequest awaiting her.”
“Good idea, Joel,” said Chief Petrovic. “Someone needs to do some legwork locating the lawyer and the will. Joel, I want you to pursue your idea and chase down that information.”
The chief continued, “Cst. Jarvis, with the aid of that newspaper article you told us about, I want you to draft an advertisement that we could pot
entially run in the Toronto Evening Telegram. That should get the message out to most of Ontario. I also want the ad running in the three biggest papers in Illinois.”
“When you have completed the draft of this notice, Jay, bring it to me,” said Chief Petrovic.
Wednesday, March 29th
AT ABOUT 11 O’CLOCK Wednesday morning, I reported to Chief Petrovic that I had had some success in locating the last will and testament of the Featherstones.
I told the chief that I had contacted Henry Featherstone Monday afternoon. Henry was the only nephew of the Featherstones and he had become the owner of the Featherstone farm upon his father’s death. Henry told me he did not have a copy of the will, but he knew that Old Mr. Prate had been the lawyer for the Featherstones.
“First thing Tuesday morning,” I informed the chief, “I went to the office of Prate and Prate. Mr. Prate Senior is still alive, but he’s in his late 80s and was no longer working in the office, so I spoke to his partner and son, Colin Prate, informing him that I was trying to locate copies of the wills of Harold and Marion Featherstone.
“Colin Prate got back to me first thing this morning. He located the will and told me that in the will there was a bequest to Henrietta Harriet Allenby of $1,000.”
“That’s great, Joel,” said Chief Petrovic. “That’s a significant financial incentive for anyone. I feel much more comfortable about placing the notice in the newspapers now. There’ll be a quick meeting at 1:30 this afternoon for everyone to take a look at the notice to make certain there are no problems with it.”
CHIEF PETROVIC STARTED the meeting by having me give everyone an update on the bequest that the Featherstones had left for Henny Allenby. Then he asked Jay to distribute copies of the notice he’d produced for the papers about the bequest. He passed them around and we all took a look:
Inheritance Bequest
Missing Heir
A significant financial inheritance is available for Henrietta Harriet Allenby, who arrived in Canada in May 1901 as part of the British Home Child program. To qualify for the inheritance, Henrietta Harriet Allenby must present herself to the law firm of Wilson, Tome and Johnson at 186 Yonge Street, Toronto. Proof of identification is required.
After everyone had had a chance to read the notice, there was general agreement that Jay had done good work and that the notice was truthful.
“Cst. Herman, I think we’re ready to send out the notice,” said the chief. “I want you to contact the local paper. Tell them you want them to publish this notice and ask for their help in distributing it to the Toronto Evening Telegram and the three leading newspapers in Illinois. Don’t discuss the notice any further with them. If they have any questions, they’re to come and see me.”
Tuesday, April 4th – Springfield, Illinois
HENNY MCCANN OPENED her front door, entered the foyer, took off her light jacket and hat, and put them in the front closet. Then she sat down on the deacon’s bench and removed her boots and put on her slippers. It was a little after 4 o’clock in the afternoon and she had just returned from the bank. It was a very pleasant day for this early in April.
Henny planned to spend a quiet evening at home. After supper, she and her housekeeper, Millie, would discuss plans for the party Henny was hosting Saturday evening. For the moment, she just wanted a cup of tea and the Chicago Tribune. She could hear Millie fussing in the kitchen, busy preparing supper.
Henny sat down in her favourite chair in the living room and rang the little bell that was on the small end table placed beside her chair. Millie promptly appeared with a cup of tea and two freshly baked cookies. She placed the small tray on the table and quickly left the room to go back to the kitchen to finish preparing supper.
Henny opened the Chicago Tribune. She turned to the Society page first, as she usually did. She had an active social life and attended most of the society parties. She had cut way back on the drugs and alcohol of her earlier years, but she still enjoyed a good party. Henny was not extremely wealthy, but she was well off. She had married Dr. Frank McCann in 1914. He’d been ten years older than her. He hadn’t seemed bothered that she didn’t have any relatives. Dr. McCann had been a very prominent Chicago surgeon and had had many wealthy and influential friends. He had died very suddenly about three and a half years after their marriage. Despite his early demise, Henny remained popular with the Chicago establishment. Frank’s family had a history of heart trouble so there was no inquest into his death. Frank McCann had left Henny comfortably set for life.
Henny turned to the front page next. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, who had become the first American president’s wife to hold her own press conferences, told reporters yesterday that beer would be served at the White House as soon as Prohibition ended. Mrs. Roosevelt emphasized that she did not drink alcohol but that it would be available to guests of the President.
Spring training was just winding down for the Cubs and the White Sox, so the front page also had a short story predicting each team’s chances of having a successful season. Last year the Cubs had won the National League pennant with a record of 90 wins and 64 losses, but they lost the World Series to the Yankees in four straight games. Great things were predicted for the Cubs. The White Sox were coming off a terrible season, where they’d only won 49 games. It was the worst season in the history of the team. Dire predictions abounded for the 1933 season.
Henny still had a few minutes before suppertime, so she started to scan some of the other pages of the Tribune. The words ‘missing heir’ in a small article at the bottom of one of the pages caught her eye.
As Henny read through the short notice, she became more and more excited. She had heard a story from one of her acquaintances in Rockford about a young man who had suddenly been notified that an uncle had died and that he was the only heir. The young man had returned to England and soon became quite prosperous as the owner of a hat manufacturing company. It sounded a bit like a fairytale, but the acquaintance knew the man personally and had no reason to lie. These things happened. Henny McCann – formerly Henny Allenby but really Nancy Featherstone – believed that she led a charmed life and she was all in favour of getting more money.
There were a couple of minor inconveniences, of course. She would have to go to Canada, for starters, but she’d been there several times in the past ten years. She’d visited Toronto four times and Montréal several times as well. She would also have to prove that she was Henny Allenby. She could do that. When she had disposed of Henrietta Harriet Allenby, she had taken all of her personal belongings. That included all of her identification. In particular, it included the paperwork that had been filled out when Henny Allenby entered Canada.
But Henny had a Saturday night party to get ready for first. Aside from some of the hors d’oeuvres that Millie was preparing, Henny had also contacted one of Springfield’s fancy restaurants for additional party food. The restaurant had also agreed to provide three waiters for Saturday evening.
Henny’s home was large and she liked to show it off. Over sixty of Springfield’s most important people had been invited. Even the mayor and his wife would be there. A three-piece band and a talented local singer would provide some live entertainment.
Once the party was out of the way, Henny planned to travel to Toronto to collect her inheritance. She would have Millie contact the train station first thing tomorrow morning to arrange first-class travel from Springfield to Chicago, then from Chicago to Detroit, and finally from Detroit to Toronto. If she left Springfield early Monday, she should be in Toronto sometime later in the day on Tuesday. Wednesday morning, she would visit the law offices of Wilson, Tome and Johnson on Young Street in Toronto to collect her inheritance.
Wednesday, April 12th
HENNY ALLENBY STEPPED out of the cab and glanced around. She thought, I do like Toronto. Depending on how large an inheritance I’ve come to collect, I may purchase another home here.
Toronto was a growing, modern city with a population of about 650,000; o
nly 200,000 behind Montréal. The Toronto Islands, Henny thought, would be a great location for a home. The yacht club harbour was there and there were rumours about the construction of an airport on the island.
Henny was so caught up in her thoughts that she walked right by the door to the lawyer’s office. She quickly realized her mistake, turned abruptly, and entered 186 Yonge Street. The receptionist was a prim, middle-age woman who looked extremely efficient and probably didn’t have a sense of humour. The nameplate at the front of her desk said Maureen Thatcher.
“May I have your name, please,” inquired the receptionist.
“Henrietta Harriet Allenby is my given name. Most people call me Henny.”
“Which lawyer are you here to see?” asked Maureen.
“Oh, I don’t have an appointment,” replied Henny. Her manner seemed to suggest that she was too important to make appointments.
“Well, I’m not sure how we can help you,” said the receptionist. “Please tell me the nature of your business, and then perhaps I can arrange to have one of the lawyers see you. If not today, then at their first available opportunity.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not from Toronto and I’m not from Canada. I need to see someone today,” answered Henny imperiously.
Frowning, the receptionist said, “I’ll see what I can do, but you’ll have to tell me the nature of your business first.”
“I told you my name,” said Henny, continuing in a too-important manner. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it. You probably prepared the notice for the newspaper. You should pay more attention to your work.”
