3.
The Shady Motel
The highway was mostly empty as Hall and Heady continued to fly eastward. The official speed limit was seventy miles per hour, so that even at eighty or slightly more, at that time of night, they would have attracted little notice.
They made several other stops, besides the ones to call the Greenleases and to switch license plates, as they proceeded to St. Louis. Hall suffered from a kidney condition requiring him to pull over frequently on the highway shoulder to urinate. He also stopped somewhere to buy a carton of cigarettes.
The route across the middle of the state eventually brought them to Boonville, home of the Kemper Military School, where Hall and Paul Greenlease had been cadets twenty years earlier. Here he apparently stopped at an all-night café to refill the gas tank and get matches.
During the rest of the drive, Hall and Heady, by his estimate, spoke no more than ten words. For much of the time, she either slept or had passed out. When she awoke, it was to smoke a cigarette and take another drink of whiskey before falling back to sleep.
They finally arrived in St. Louis around six in the morning on Monday, October 5. Finding the Sportsman’s Bar & Grill at 3500 South Jefferson Avenue open, Hall parked the car near the corner of Potomac Street, leaving the money locked in the trunk. After ordering drinks for each of them, he used the tavern’s phone to call attorney Barney Patton at his home in St. Joseph.
Patton was literally the only person in the world whom Hall felt he could trust. The attorney had been instrumental in helping him obtain his parole, and had done him several other favors, including finding him a job as an automobile salesman when he got out of prison. A grateful Hall had later invited Patton to Heady’s home for dinner. Patton reciprocated by inviting Hall and Heady to dinner at the home of his parents, in one of the city’s best residential neighborhoods.
Panicky and paranoid, and all but certain that Ledterman and O’Neill had been able to take down his license plate number, Hall asked the lawyer to contact the McCord-Bell car rental agency and somehow arrange to alter or destroy the record showing that the Ford had been rented in Heady’s name. Patton declined and asked why Hall wanted him to do that. Hall refused to say why, explaining only that he had been in some trouble in Kansas City, and the two men left the matter at that. Hall and Heady sat drinking in the Sportsman’s Bar for some time. They also entered a nearby diner and ordered breakfast, but neither was able to eat much and they soon left.
Hall’s next order of business, now that the police would certainly be looking for the kidnappers and the ransom money, was to abandon the Ford rental. He called the Yellow Cab Company, asking for a car to pick him up. It arrived about fifteen minutes later. Both Hall and Heady got in, and Hall directed the driver, George Oberbeck, to find a luggage store. After scouting the downtown area, the three of them found the Broadway Army Store at 17 North Broadway, which Hall thought would be opening its doors at 9 A.M.—still some minutes away. To pass the time, he invited the driver to join him and Heady at Slay’s Bar at 114 North Broadway, where Hall had one and Heady two shots of Walkers Deluxe straight whiskey, while Oberbeck ordered a Coca-Cola.
At some point, Hall left Heady and Oberbeck, went into the luggage store, and purchased a green metal footlocker and a smaller black metal suitcase. He set both pieces of luggage on the sidewalk next to the cab, and summoned Heady and Oberbeck, who put the footlocker and suitcase into the trunk. Oberbeck drove them back to the Sportsman’s Bar and Hall paid him. After putting the luggage in the Ford, he and Heady drove to a quiet, brick-paved alley lined with ash pits and a few garages behind nearby Wyoming Street. When he opened the trunk, he had to use a penknife to cut the drawstrings around the top of the duffel bag because it was tied so tightly. Laying the footlocker and suitcase on the alley, he then quickly dumped the money into both pieces of luggage. The ransom filled both of them to the very top, forcing him to dispose of a metal tray in one so that all of the bills could fit in snugly. Fearful of being observed, they did not bother to count the money. When a couple drove past them in the alley, Hall moved one of the suitcases to allow the other car to get by, and afterward waved to the driver, saying, “It’s okay.”
By now it was about 9:30 A.M. Disposing of the duffel bag in a trash can, Hall and Heady next drove to the nearby Hi-Nabor Buffet at 2801 Wyoming Street, where they brought both the footlocker and metal suitcase into the tavern and had a few more drinks. They remained there for about forty-five minutes. Hall briefly left Heady alone at the bar while he drove the Ford to the 2800 block of nearby Utah Street and abandoned it. Returning to the bar, he again called for a Yellow Cab. When it arrived, Hall transferred the footlocker and suitcase once more, and told Irwin Rosa, the driver, to take him to a “used car row.” Almost immediately, a drunken Heady demanded instead to be taken to the bus station downtown. Perhaps to avoid a loud and possibly incriminating confrontation in the presence of a potential witness, Hall uncharacteristically agreed. At the Greyhound Bus Depot at Broadway and Delmar Avenue downtown, Rosa helped Hall set the two pieces of luggage on the sidewalk. Hall paid the $1.25 fare with two one-dollar bills. By now it was about 10:35 A.M.
While in the bus station, Hall and Heady argued about whether to go to a hotel or try to rent an apartment. An agitated Heady went up to the ticket agent, Glenn C. Hartley, and asked about bus service to Kansas City; Tripp, South Dakota; and Bismarck, North Dakota. She also asked him about travelers insurance. Hall, not to be dissuaded, consulted the Yellow Pages, looking for the address of a used car lot. Selecting one on South Kingshighway, a major north–south boulevard, he hailed another cab that dropped them off at Columbo’s Bar at 3132 South Kingshighway, their fourth bar stop that morning. Again they brought the footlocker and metal suitcase in with them.
After ordering more drinks for themselves, Hall made another call to Patton from a phone booth in the bar to find out whether he had destroyed the rental car record.
“When did you rent this car?” a suspicious Patton asked. The lawyer had begun to wonder whether the Ford had been used in the Greenlease kidnapping.
“Thursday or Friday, October 1 or 2,” Hall replied.
That answer allayed Patton’s fears. He then asked if Heady was in some kind of trouble.
“It doesn’t concern you or me,” Hall told him.
“You aren’t running away from a hit-and-run case, are you?” Patton persisted. “If you are, I don’t want to get mixed up in it.”
Hall assured Patton that Heady was not involved in any such case. He offered to send any amount of money Patton required to do the favor, if he would only not ask any questions. Patton again refused. Nevertheless, Hall informed the lawyer that the car would be left in the 2800 block of Wyoming Street. In fact, though, he had gotten yet another address wrong.
After downing a few more drinks, Hall and Heady began arguing about where to go next. She insisted on booking a room at the Chase Hotel in the Central West End, but Hall had enough of his wits about him to realize that walking into a hotel lobby in the company of a very inebriated woman would attract attention.
Soon after 11 A.M., Hall walked to the Barrett-Weber Ford used car lot across the street and bought a 1947 maroon four-door Nash sedan. Lindsay Worley, the salesman, at first told him the price was $350; but after spotting an easy mark and consulting the manager, he upped the price to $425. Hall agreed to the sale, paid for the car with the ransom money, returned to the bar, and waited for Worley to bring the necessary papers for him to sign. He identified himself as Steve Strand on the sales contract.
When a drunken Heady saw the Nash, she fell into a rage. “What on earth?” she cried out. “Where did you get that?” She had wanted Hall to buy a new car and not one that was six years old.
Hall tried to explain that an old car would not draw attention to them, but she refused to be placated.
Hall had also bought a morning newspaper, and the bartender helped him look through the classifieds in search of a f
urnished apartment to rent nearby. They soon found one on Arsenal Street, just around the corner from Kingshighway, and Hall dialed the number listed in the advertisement. When a woman answered, he learned that the apartment was still available and told her he would be right over to check it out. The bartender gave him directions.
Hall and Heady then drove to the apartment, at 4504 Arsenal Street. It faced upon Tower Grove Park, originally part of the country estate of Henry Shaw, an Englishman who had amassed a fortune after immigrating to St. Louis in the early 1800s. After Shaw’s death, the land was donated to the city, and named Tower Grove because a grove of sassafras trees stood nearby. Despite facing such manicured grounds, sprinkled with gazebos and statuary, the residences lining Arsenal Street were modest, and many apartments were rented out by the week or month.
Coincidentally, the man who would mastermind Hall’s imminent downfall lived just minutes away on the opposite side of the park.
When Hall and Heady arrived at the apartment, sometime around noon, Heady was so intoxicated that she could barely stand. The landlady introduced herself as Mary Webb, and Hall registered as John Grant of Elgin, Illinois, a town he had never been to. Identifying Heady as his wife Esther, he apologetically explained that she was quite ill, and said the two of them planned on remaining in St. Louis for about two months on an extended vacation. After paying Webb $20 for a week’s rent in advance, and another $5 deposit for the key, he carried each suitcase separately into the apartment. They were too heavy for him to transport both at the same time. The footlocker weighed an estimated forty to fifty pounds, and the smaller one between thirty and thirty-five pounds. He also asked Webb where the nearest shopping area was. She told him that the closest was on nearby Morganford Road, but that he would find a better one on Grand and Arsenal, only a few blocks further on.
When Hall plopped Heady onto the bed, she immediately began to complain that the apartment was a “dump” and that she did not want to stay there. Hall agreed, saying, “I don’t either. I don’t blame you, but it’s the only thing to do for the time being.” But Heady kept repeating, “Let’s go to the Chase Hotel.” Hall punched her on the jaw and Heady passed out, ending the discussion. He then lay down himself for a few minutes, wondering frantically what to do with the money, and knowing that he could not trust Heady in her condition. Not for a moment did he fear that she might double-cross him, but he did worry that she was so erratic and unstable that she could betray him just by being herself. As his signed confession would later dryly note, Hall even fretted that Heady “might see a man out on the street she liked, invite him in, and give him a thousand dollars.”
While Heady slept, Hall left the apartment. Though he had not brought along a change of clothes, he still looked dressed for success—snap-brim brown hat, tan sport shirt, and tweed brown coat. He drove the Nash to the Old Shillelagh Bar a few blocks away at 3157 Morganford Road. While enjoying a few more drinks, he wrote a letter to Patton. Curiously, now that he had money, the first thing Hall wanted to do was to show his gratitude for all the favors the St. Joseph attorney had done for him by sending him some cash. When Hall finished writing the letter, he wrapped it around $500 in $20 bills. After obtaining an envelope from the bartender, he addressed it to Patton, inserted the cash, and carefully sealed it. Noticing a cabdriver at the bar who was watching the sixth and deciding game of the World Series, he then decided to watch a few innings himself. Casey Stengel’s Bronx Bombers, led by Billy Martin and Mickey Mantle, ultimately defeated the Brooklyn Dodgers in that 4–3 game.
After posting the letter to Patton in a nearby mailbox, Hall asked the cabdriver, Edward Gorman, if he would drive him to a shopping area where he might find an appliance store. Gorman agreed, but the expedition to nearby Hampton Village was unsuccessful. No appliance store was to be found. They returned to the bar, only to discover the Petruso Electrical Appliance Store nearby. Hall and Gorman both went in, and Hall purchased a CBS radio for $28 that he could use to listen to news broadcasts. He also asked for a cardboard box. When the clerk replied that he only had a larger-size box, Hall took the larger box—one measuring about fifteen by nineteen inches.
“It swims in this one,” he remarked, pleased.
Gorman took him to a corner near the Arsenal Street apartment, and Hall walked the rest of the way. When he entered the apartment, he discovered that Heady was still asleep. He tried unsuccessfully to awaken her, plugged in the radio, and lay down. Too restless to remain in bed for more than a few minutes, he got up again and walked to the Squeeze Box Tavern at 3225 Morganford Road. Ordering a shot of whiskey, he nervously paced the floor.
All morning, Hall had been desperately trying to form a plan, and at last something very like one began to take shape. Lost in a no-man’s-land of his mind somewhere between extreme paranoia and utter recklessness, if not plain stupidity, Hall came up with the idea of dispatching a call girl to Los Angeles to mail yet another letter to Patton. Hall was convinced that the authorities would somehow intercept the letter, and confine their investigation to the West Coast. A man who in better times had spent plenty of money on call girls, he naively assumed that a prostitute would probably be pleased to earn the money without asking any questions. He apparently did not consider the possibility that an unscrupulous, street-savvy prostitute, sensing an opportunity to earn even more money, just might ask a question or two.
Not wanting to delay putting his plan into action, Hall asked the bartender for the Squeeze Box Tavern’s address, and had him repeat it several times because he was having difficulty understanding the word “Morganford.” Calling for a Laclede Cab, he left, having stayed at the tavern only fifteen minutes. Some moments later, Henry Schmidt, the bar’s owner, went into the restroom, discovered a bank currency wrapper bearing the notation “$2,000,” and flushed it down the toilet.
Hall told Howard A. Lewis, the Laclede driver who answered his call, to procure a girl for him. Lewis replied that “that stuff is not my business.” But he did offer to try to locate a cabdriver who could be of more help. They drove downtown, but Lewis failed to find another driver willing to procure a woman for his customer. Hall then directed Lewis to return to his apartment at 4504 Arsenal, saying he wished to pick up some sample cases that he used in his job as a salesman. On the way, they stopped at Brownie’s Tavern just east of Gravois Avenue on Arsenal, where Hall had a quick drink. They then proceeded to the apartment, and Hall asked Lewis to wait for him.
Heady was still asleep when Hall walked in. Moving quickly, he scrawled a quick note: “Had to move bags in a hurry as report came in on radio—Girl next door looked funny—Couldn’t wake you—Stay here and I’ll call when I can.”
Hastily, he also wrote a second note: “Stay where you are baby. I will see you in short order. Tell them you are not well and they will bring you food. Just say your husband was called away unexpectedly.”
He left behind $2,500, tucked into the bottom of Heady’s purse. Carrying the footlocker and the metal suitcase one at a time, he took them to the front door, and Lewis helped put the former into the car’s trunk. Since there was not enough room for the smaller case to fit, Hall kept it next to him on the back seat.
Hall instructed Lewis to continue to look for a woman, saying, “I want a nice girl,” and making it clear that he did not want to be taken to a brothel. He also handed Lewis a $20 bill as “a token of good luck.” As the cab headed downtown, he dozed briefly . Around 3:30, Lewis pulled up next to a cabbie parked in front of the Jefferson Hotel and asked if he could get his fare a girl. That driver, John Oliver Hager, who worked for Ace Cab, had a fare heading for Union Station, but said he could be of help. The two drivers agreed to meet shortly at the bar of the nearby Reed Hotel at 15th and Pine streets. When the two cabs met up, Hall paid his driver another $20, the footlocker and the metal suitcase were transferred from one cab to another, and Hager and Hall drove off. Hall identified himself as Steve Strand, and Hager told him he knew someone who might agree to be his
date.
Ace Cab was to be Hall’s doom. Joseph Costello, a local mobster, owned the company, but Hager never suspected that his fare might be the kidnapper whose shocking crime riveted the nation. He quickly saw that Hall had been drinking; guessed that his fare was, in his own words, “a good-time Charley”; and assumed that Hall’s explanation that he needed a girl to carry a letter for him to Los Angeles was just a pretext, and that what Hall really wanted was a hooker. Hager, who lived in a cramped SRO room at the Lincoln Hotel near downtown, also worked as a part-time pimp for a prostitute named Sandra O’Day. An ex-convict, he had been sentenced to two years in the Missouri State Penitentiary in 1950 for passing bad checks. In a remarkable near-coincidence, the two men were alumni of the same prison in Jefferson City; their periods of incarceration had missed overlapping only by a matter of months.
As they drove off, Hager asked Hall if he planned to spend the night with the woman, and where he wanted to go. Hall replied that he had no idea where to go, but that he might want to spend two or three nights with the prostitute.
In February 1940, J. Edgar Hoover, the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, had warned of a new threat to the American way of life. As the United States edged ever closer toward declaring war against Nazi Germany in Europe, Hoover published an article in American Magazine entitled “Camps of Crime” that singled out a relatively new enemy within—the roadside motel. Those anonymous establishments sprouting up on the country’s wide-open roads were, according to Hoover, “a new home of crime in America, a new home of disease, bribery, corruption, crookedness, rape, white slavery, thievery, and murder.”
Zero at the Bone: The Playboy, the Prostitute, and the Murder of Bobby Greenlease Page 7
