Confessions of the Serial Killer H.H. Holmes (Illustrated)

by Mudgett (aka H. H. Holmes), Herman Webster

  I quote from her recent statement, made in Toronto, as to what took place between us then, and state that it could only have been on this day, for while there I asked her if she could get ready to leave Toronto that evening:---

  “I am convinced that my two children were right there in Toronto while I was here,” said Mrs. Pitezel. “One day while I was shopping in a large store here, I suddenly saw Holmes. He said you wait here a little while until I return. I believe my children were right there in that store at the time, and Holmes took them out some other way so I should not see them.”

  As a matter of fact, they were at the bakery before spoken of, and I can only wish not that they had been with me, and met their mother, though at the time I should have considered it an unfortunate circumstance for the same reasons that obtained in Detroit.

  I at once left the store and took the children to the depot, where Hatch met me with some bundles of goods he had bought. I took the children to the ladies’ waiting room and giving Alice $400, directed her to go into the private waiting room and fasten it securely within her dress, and later give it to Miss Williams. I also gave each of the girls a small amount of spending money. I wrote a telegram, directing it to myself at the hotel opposite the Palmer House, for Alice to send me early next morning from Niagara, if anything happened to prevent Miss Williams meeting them as had been agreed upon.

  I also gave them explicit directions as to where to stay, and told them that I would surely go to them at once if any trouble arouse. I then asked if they were afraid to go alone. Alice answered, “Oh, no; I wish you or Mr. Hatch were going along, though.” The train came so quickly that I had little time to bid them good bye, and therefore got upon the train and accompanied them perhaps a mile to a station where the train slowed up; Hatch going still farther at his suggestion, to see that the conductor took their tickets and agreed to transfer them at Hamilton to the right train.

  I sat in the seat with Nellie during this time, Alice being in the seat in front. They spoke of their prospective voyage, gave me messages for their mother and the baby, and asked how long it would be before we all come to London. I told them to help Miss Williams all they could, and especially cautioned Nellie about quarreling with Howard, which she was apt to do when they were together, finally telling them that upon my arrival there the three who had not quarreled would receive a present of considerable value.

  My opportunity to leave the train having now arrived, I hastily bade them good-bye, and started to leave the car. Little Nellie followed me to the door, and said, “Don’t forget about baby,” and reaching up kissed me good-bye and ran back to the seat again. With all truthfulness, I most earnestly state that under the circumstances, and at this time, about 4.20 P. M., Thursday, October 25th, I last saw these children.

  I immediately returned to the Palmer House, telling my wife we should leave the city next morning, and said to her that if she had any more purchases to make, she should attend to it at once, as certain of the stores closed early. For the next hour I was busy collecting my various purchases about the city, and taking them to the depot to place in the large trunk, and at not later than 6.30 Hatch was again at the depot, and stated that the conductor had taken the children in charge before he left the train. He then left me, agreeing to meet me early next morning at the hotel to learn if the children arrived all right. I then returned at once to the Palmer House and ate dinner.

  Without delay I went to Mrs. Pitezel’s hotel, and assisted her in packing her trunk and having it taken to the train before 8 o’clock, the larger trunk going upon the same train; but Mrs. Pitezel and Dessie remarked to me later that they saw that trunk upon their arrival at Prescott early next morning, and a day later at the custom’s officer at Ogdensburg, during his inspection, came across the shovel Hatch had insisted in placing in it at Detroit, remarking that he did not know but that it was dutiable on account of being new.

  If this trunk had been at the Vincent Street house there would have been no necessity of one’s going to the neighbors to borrow a spade with which to conceal the evidence of the terrible crime committed there. I returned to the Palmer House before Mrs. Pitezel had started – not later than 8.15 P. M., and during the evening aided my wife in her preparations for the next day’s journey; and only left the hotel before taking the train next morning at 8 o’clock, for about two minutes, to step across the street and ascertain if the girls had met Miss Williams, as was reasonable to suppose as no telegram was there. Hatch was waiting for me at the hotel, and said he should wait one or two days in Toronto to get his mail and to buy some dutiable goods to take across the border.

  I did no smuggling while upon this trip, nor was I even absent from my hotel any evening or night, save when accompanied by my wife to some place of amusement, nor did I ever leave my hotel before 8.30 A. M., save upon this last morning.

  Thus it will be seen that this is not an unimportant statement for accounting to a witness named Rodgers, if his testimony at the inquest at Toronto is correctly reported, he saw the two children at 1 P. M. Thursday, and that early next morning a spade that had been previously borrowed had been returned to him.

  In an informal talk upon this subject, Mr. Rodgers has several times stated that this occurred quite early before working hours.

  The hackneyed expression that “a spade is a spade” may be true, but I feel that it but poorly expresses the full value and significance of this particular article. Again, Mr. Rogers states that “Some time—in one published account some days later—the keys were left with me; I fully believe that the children met their death and were buried during the night. Thursday, October 25th; the spade returned before 8 o’clock—for Hatch was at that time at the hotel – that during the day their clothes were slowly burned”—and this, while I was journeying towards Prescott, Canada, a railroad trip of about eight hours, and where I registered at the Imperial Hotel not later than 4.30 P. M. that day.

  It may be asked how at this late date I can fully remember what occurred upon one certain Saturday, nearly a year previous to the writing of these pages, to distinguish it from the preceding day or any other day that is less important? Upon first hearing of the children’s death, I was no more in a position to be positive in regard to this particular day than any other, until after thinking of the matter for hours and days together, as I believe only a man can force himself to think when he feels that perhaps his life depends upon such exertion, I arranged the facts in my mind in something like the following order:---

  Being first sure, from some written memoranda, that I arrived in Toronto upon Thursday, October 18th, upon the next day, which was Friday, I was sure that no purchases had been made, save the fur garment referred to, because this took up the entire morning, and our ride occurred the same day, which fact was firmly impressed upon my mind by remembering that the livery conveyance came to the Walker House. This could not have occurred on any other day, as next afternoon we were going to Niagara, and at all later dates we were at the Palmer House. I also remember that the second purchases at the fur store, that of the storm coats, were made upon the day following our previous purchase, this being further strengthened and impressed upon my mind by remembering that upon my return from Niagara the day following these purchases, a delay had occurred of several hours at Hamilton. The weather being such as to require it, I went to the baggage car, and after considerable conversation with the baggage man, was allowed to open our trunk for this garment.

  This date brought to my mind that the compass had been used while at Niagara, showing that that too, was bought upon the day previous. This in its turn made me think that the purchase of the compass had occurred while passing from one furnishing store to another, looking for the special grade of underwear I wished, and which was bought later in the day, showing me clearly that at least a dozen other calls had been made at different other establishments for a like purpose, and which must of necessity have occurred prior to the purchase which ended my search.

  My
suit of clothes was promised to be delivered to me upon the following Tuesday, if possible, and upon Wednesday at the latest, and I was required to call once in the meantime to have them fitted. If instead of Saturday I had been measured Monday, and told to call the next day to be fitted, they could not have been promised to me upon Tuesday, and so on in regard to the other visits made after this day, until I became so thoroughly convinced that I have not yet verified them by tracing the several stores, not knowing their names; but I fully believe that the order books and delivery slips of at least three responsible establishments will show that I must have been transacting business in their stores at the very hour when it had been sworn I was in remote parts of the city paying friendly visits to the owner and neighbor of the Vincent Street house.

  From there the remainder of my journey was by private conveyance, hired for that purpose, and through a blinding snow storm. My pen cannot adequately portray the meeting with my aged parents, nor were it possible, would I allow it to do so for publication. Suffice it to say that I came to them as one from the dead, they for years having considered me as such, until I had written them a few days before.

  That after embracing them as I looked into their dear faces once more, my eyes grew dim with the tears kindly sent to shut out for the moment the signs of added years I knew my uncalled-for silence of the past seven years had done much to unnecessarily increase.

  For the next two days I tried to feel that I was a boy again, and when I could go away by myself for a few minutes, I would wander from room to room, taking up or passing my hands lovingly over each familiar object, opening each cupboard and drawer with the same freedom I would have used twenty years before.

  Here I found some letters written to my mother when I was a boy, and later as a young man; then as a physician, giving her careful directions regarding her health; then the letter written the day before my supposed death all bearing evidence to the many times she had sorrowfully read them. There also I found toys that years before had seemed so precious to me, and old garments carefully laid away, principally those which I had worn, and which I felt sure mother had purposely caused to be placed separately, thinking me dead, for if such had been the case it would have been the first death in our family.

  And, moreover, I had always been looked upon by the others as “mother’s boy.” When I went to the room where, times without number, I had been given such faithful teachings, and prayed with so earnestly, and had I been the earnest Christian my mother had then entreated me to become, I could have prayed for guidance beside the same dear old chair in which she had so often sat with me. I could not stay here. I felt it was too sacred a place to be entered now, and with tears in my eyes, that come again as I write, I reluctantly closed the door and went away.

  Later, I visited what had been my own room, finding it much as I had left it twenty years before. Many of my old school books were here, but my most precious though worthless possessions I had carefully placed elsewhere, and now I took them, dust laden, from their places of concealment. First, a complicated contrivance that when finished was to have solved the problem of perpetual motion, then a piece of a wind-mill so arranged as to make a noise when in operation sufficient to scare the crows from the corn field; going further I came to some small boxes containing almost everything from a tooth, the first I remember of having extracted, to a small bunch of very tenderly worded notes and a picture of my little twelve year old sweetheart. These experiences were repeated next day when I drove to the old farm my grandfather had owned during his life-time. Here mother had lived as a child, a girl, and a young woman, and accompanying me she no doubt saw many things as dear to her. I, too, had lived here for a time, and could not leave the place until I had found my “marks” denoting my height at various times – the first of which was less than three feet. I also explored the yards and barns. Here many changes had taken place; even my initials that had been deeply cut in one of the large elm trees that grew so slowly had become obliterated. This touched me deeply, seeming so much in keeping with what had in reality occurred to the name itself, and feeling that I must find one unchanging remembrance, I went to a huge boulder upon a hill near by having to cross the brook with much difficulty that in early years had offered no impediment to the progress of my unclad feet.

  Reaching the rock I raised my voice, uttering the same words I had used as a child, and listened for the echoing answer. It did not come; it, too, was dead, owing, no doubt, to the woods upon the surrounding hills having disappeared meantime. Returning, I found my brother had come in answer to my request that he should visit me. He was accompanied by several sturdy boys whom I had never seen, and in whose faces I could see my brother and myself of years ago; but when, in conversation, they spoke to and of their father as “Arthur,” his given name, I could but wonder if he thought of what would have been our portion had we ever addressed our parents in like manner. The day before I came away father told me of what disposition he had made, when he thought me dead, of the portion of his property that would have belonged to me if I had lived, and told me that he would rearrange it. This I begged him not to do, and a good occasion having thus been brought about, I had him bring from his trunk of private papers the several promissory notes that he had guaranteed for me years previous, and later had paid, and after adding the interest, I insisted upon his taking the money so represented. The next day, after a leave-taking nearly as pathetic and hard to bear as my meeting had been, I left them. I have seen neither of them since, nor do I ever expect to do so. Each prison mail delivery I receive with trembling hands, expecting it to be an announcement of their death, caused by their great sorrow and shame so cruelly forced upon them.

  The morning following my return to Burlington I visited the post-office and received my mail. It had been handed to me and I had stepped to a small desk to open some of it when, glancing toward the delivery window, I saw what seemed to me to be the entire office force staring with all wonder at me. I knew instantly that I was in danger, and this was made more sure to me by the manner in which they at once sought to dispel this feeling by dispersing from the window. I at once resumed my reading, for I felt that it would be hazardous to have them know I was aware of their acts. As soon as I could do so safely I went to Mrs. Pitezel’s house and told her I had been hastily called to Boston and New York; that she should remain in Burlington until I should return or send for her prior to her going to the children. At this time (when I knew that momentarily there was a possibility of officers coming to the house for me) she reminded me that the supply of coal was nearly exhausted and, not wishing to go upon the street to order more, I accompanied her to the basement and, after removing some of the decayed boards from the floor of the coal bin, I shoveled together a considerable quantity of coal that had accumulated there. It was this circumstance that later, when she was suffering so acutely in Toronto, she distorted into the statement that she believed I was then preparing to take her life. The dispatches I had received in my Burlington mail left no doubt in my mind that detectives were following my movements, although I could not determine then how they had undermined my apparently safe plans. Later I found that by making absolutely erroneous statements to the Post-Office department at Washington, they had been given the right to examine all of a certain line of mail matter, thus accomplishing their purposes.

  Having made these arrangements with Mrs. Pitezel, I left Burlington Tuesday morning, November 13th, and reached Boston the same evening at the Adams House. The next day I secured some rooms in a quiet street for my wife and myself, and proceeded at once to arrange for Mrs. Pitezel’s departure for Europe. But that evening while writing some letters at the Parker House, a careless shadower, in his earnestness to learn their address, allowed me to know that I was being watched. As in Burlington, I tried not to have it known that I had observed it, but from that moment I knew I was in their hands. After leaving the hotel and entering several crowded stores to ascertain the number and vigilance of my followers, I ado
pted the only feasible plan I considered was left open to me. I wrote Mrs. Pitezel a letter, asking her to meet me upon a certain day at Lowell, Mass., intending to see her and instruct her as to taking the trip alone. After throwing off my followers, I sent this letter to Burlington by express, including tickets and full directions for their journey. I then returned to my rooms, intending to tell my wife of my threatened trouble and the causes that had led up to it, I could not do it.

  We had been married less than a year, and during that time I had endeavored to shield her from all annoying influences, and to cause her such great unhappiness now, until I absolutely knew it was upon me, was impossible. The next day I was continually shadowed, and finally returned to my room, and while my wife was absent made a small opening in the now famous trunk.

  I then went to a relative, living in a suburb, intending to ask him to aid me in making my escape by means of the trunk, if absolutely necessary. Here again my courage failed me, when I had visited him, lest it should involve him in some difficulty, and I returned to my room resolved to meet whatever was in store for me.

  Saturday P. M., November 17, I left the house intending to send two letters if possible. I had proceeded hardly a block when I was surrounded by four greatly excited men, two of whom said, “We want you, you are under arrest, and it will be useless for you to try to escape, as there are four of us.” I said, “I shall make no effort to escape.” We were near the police headquarters, where I was at once taken into Inspector Watts’ private office. I knew that no time would be lost in sending to my room to search my belongings, and I therefore asked that my wife be called to me, preferring to tell her myself of what was in store for her. The request was granted, and in a few minutes she was ushered into the room.