The Axman of New Orleans

by Chuck Hustmyre

  "What file?" Emile asked.

  "A murder five years ago. The victim was Paul Di Christina, and his yellow card is one of the ones missing."

  A strange look crossed Emile's face.

  "What?" I said.

  He hesitated.

  "What?" I said again, a little more sharply.

  "Do you remember the other connection I told you about, at the Pepitone murder scene?"

  "That you knew about the two Italians arguing with-"

  "No," Emile said. "The other connection."

  "I don't think you ever got around to telling me."

  "Between the murder of Michael Pepitone and something that happened several years ago."

  "The Di Christina murder?"

  Emile nodded. "How did you know?"

  "I found a yellow card for a man named Peter Pepitone, who I thought might be Michael Pepitone's father. The card showed he was arrested for Di Christina's murder."

  "He was Michael Pepitone's father," Emile said. "I covered the trial. He was found guilty and sentenced to twenty years in Angola."

  "You said he was Michael Pepitone's father?"

  "He was killed in prison," Emile said. "Stabbed more than thirty times and had his throat slashed. The report said the wound was so deep it nearly severed his head."

  "He was in his sixties."

  "Di Christina was one of Matranga's top men, a capo ... capo-something."

  "Capodecina," I said. "A Mafia captain."

  "I guess Matranga wanted to make an example of him."

  "Why didn't you tell me all this Monday?" I said.

  Emile took a deep breath. "I swore off the Axman story after ... I got hurt."

  I nodded, remembering how disappointed I was that day in the hospital six months ago when Emile told me he was going to stop writing about the Axman murders. "You can't win this," he had warned me. "They'll destroy you."

  At the time I thought he was crazy. Now I wasn't so sure.

  "I went to Michael Pepitone's house because of the Di Christina murder, not because of the Axman," Emile said. "When I heard Mr. Pepitone had been killed, I thought I might get a chance to talk to his wife."

  "So you sent me on a wild goose chase to see a Creole woman who didn't speak English just to get rid of me?"

  "It was true what I told you," Emile said. "She did see two Italian men arguing with Michael Pepitone that afternoon."

  "But I already knew that," I said.

  "That's because you're a good detective."

  "What did you want to talk to her about?"

  "To ask her what really happened to Di Christina."

  "What do you mean, what really happened? You said you covered the trial."

  "Peter Pepitone was convicted of the murder," Emile said, "but he wasn't the only one who killed Paul Di Christina."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The police found two shotguns, both with spent shells."

  "What did she say?"

  "Nothing," Emile said. "She wouldn't talk to me."

  "Serves you right for lying to me."

  Emile opened his mouth, and I could tell he meant to argue, but he must have changed his mind because all he said was, "You're right. And I apologize."

  I nodded. "Now that we have that straight, tell me about the Di Christina case."

  "Why?" Emile asked. "It can't have anything to do with the Axman murders because, as I understand it, that investigation is focused on finding a maniac, a real-life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

  "There's a reason the file is missing."

  He gave me a wry smile that seemed to say, I told you so. Then he said, "Peter Pepitone owned a grocery on the corner of Calliope Street and Howard Avenue, across from a grocery owned by Paul Di Christina. From what his neighbors said, Peter Pepitone was an honest, hard-working Italian. Paul Di Christina, on the other hand, was a crook, an extortionist, a bully, and, as we found out later, a murderer."

  "Why was a man like Di Christina running a grocery?"

  "He sold mostly untaxed cigarettes and liquor ... and dope to the Negroes."

  "Pepitone didn't like that, I take it."

  Emile shook his head. "But he knew better than to say anything."

  "So what started the trouble between them?"

  "Di Christina worked for Matranga, and Matranga wanted every Italian businessman in the city to pay him for protection, and not just the old one-time Black Hand payments, but every month, just like rent."

  "And Pepitone refused to pay?"

  Emile nodded. "Yes, and worse, he told other shop owners in the neighborhood not to pay. He said they had to stand up to the Black Hand."

  "So what did Di Christina do?"

  Emile held up a hand. "Before I tell you what he did, let me tell you who he was, who he really was. I didn't learn this until after the trial, but Paul Di Christina wasn't his real name. His true name was Paolo Marchese, a convicted murderer who escaped from prison in Sicily."

  That explained the handwritten notation of the name Paolo Marchese on Di Christina's yellow card. "Not the kind of man an honest grocer should cross."

  "No," Emile said.

  "So what happened?"

  "He dragged old man Pepitone out of his grocery and into the street, then beat him in front of all their neighbors. Beat him so badly he spent five days in the hospital."

  "But even that must not have worked because Di Christina ended up dead and Peter Pepitone went to prison for murder."

  "The day Peter Pepitone came home from the hospital, he stood on the front steps of his grocery and opened fire with an old double-barreled shotgun as Di Christina and another man pulled up in a wagon across the street."

  "Who was the other man?"

  "Edward Di Martini."

  I felt my blood pumping faster. "He was another of Marcello's criminal associates whose yellow card is missing."

  "I'm not surprised."

  "What do you know about him?"

  "I know somebody killed him."

  "Who?"

  "I would bet money on Michael Pepitone."

  That surprised me. "Why?"

  "Because Di Martini was also there when Di Christina gave Peter Pepitone that beating in the street. The only reason Di Martini didn't get shot with Di Christina was because he had his two-year-old son with him. He was lifting the boy out of the wagon when the shooting started."

  "You said the police found two shotguns."

  "The second one was lying inside the open front window. Peter Pepitone said he fired both guns; but two witnesses, neither of them Italian, said he never left the steps, that he fired two shots, then sat down and waited for the police. His shotgun was there beside him when the first patrolman arrived on the scene."

  "Was Michael Pepitone there?"

  "In the back room taking a nap, according to his father."

  "That's pretty convenient," I said.

  "I thought so too."

  "When was Di Martini killed?" I asked.

  "Six weeks after the judge sent Peter Pepitone to Angola."

  I stared across the empty newsroom. "Then the old man gets murdered in prison, and now Salvatore Marcello-a known associate of both Di Christina and Di Martini-is gunned down in the street. So far it sounds like a classic vendetta."

  Emile picked up a pencil and started tapping it on his desk. "Except that two hours later, Michael Pepitone becomes the latest victim of the Axman."

  "There's more," I said.

  Emile stopped tapping the pencil and waited.

  "Marcello was one of the two Italians arguing with Michael Pepitone the afternoon before he was killed."

  "How do you know that?"

  "And Michael Pepitone was the one who shot him."

  Emile dropped the pencil and it rolled off his desk. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  "So the other man with Marcello ..."

  "Might be the Axman," I said. "Or at least knows who the Axman is."

  "But that means ... he's nothing
but a Mafia agent," Emile said, the disappointment clear in his voice. "After all this time."

  "No," I said, thinking about the blood-spattered button I had found at the Pepitone grocery, a button bearing the star and crescent of the New Orleans Police Department. "Not necessarily."

  "What else makes sense? All this time I was sure ..."

  "And you were right," I said. "There is something else, something bigger, going on. And it involves the Police Department."

  A slow grin spread across my friend's face. "I told you." He pounded his fist on the desk. "I told you it was a conspiracy. And the conspirators have to be very high up, not just ordinary ..." He stopped and I could almost see the wheels turning inside his head. "Wait a minute," he said. "Why the sudden change of heart? Why do you think the Police Department is involved?"

  "You've got your secrets," I said. "I've got mine."

  "Mon ami, but that is not fair. I told you everything I know about the Di Christina killing."

  I considered telling Emile about the button, but I decided not to. Not yet. There was someone else I needed to tell first. "You kept that information about Peter Pepitone and Di Christina from me for two days," I said. "Maybe in two days I'll tell you everything I know."

  "I should have known better than to trust a policeman," he said, but the grin was still on his face.

  The clock on the wall showed it was nearly eight o'clock. I stood up. "You ready for a drink?"

  Emile shook his head. "I promised Colette I would take her to see Moliere's Tartuffe at Le Petit Theatre. You're welcome to join us. There's a wine bar in the lobby."

  I shoved my hat on my head. "Sounds like fun, but I'll have to pass. I'm going to the Red Stag and have a glass of whiskey. Maybe two glasses." I had some thinking to do. First thing in the morning, I had something important to take care of, and depending upon how that turned out, tomorrow could be my last day as a detective.

  Maybe my last day as a policeman.

  CHAPTER 36

  WHO IS THE AXMAN AND WHAT ARE HIS MOTIVES?

  Police Follow A Number Of Theories In Pursuit Of The Elusive Killer.

  -The Daily States

  MARCH 11, 1919

  9:20 A.M.

  "Have you seen this?" shouted Gene Langenstein as he threw a folded copy of that morning's Daily States down on Emile's desk.

  Emile, who held one pencil in his hand and had another one clamped between his teeth, was copying details from a ship's passenger manifest into his notebook. He glanced over at the newspaper and then returned his attention to the manifest. "No, I haven't. I'm working on the shipping news for tomorrow. I think the Queen of England is paddling up the river in a canoe. Can we get a photographer to meet her at the dock?"

  "That's not funny," Langenstein said.

  When Emile looked up at his editor, he noticed the man's face was flushed, prompting him to set down his pencils and pick up The Daily States. A front-page article was circled in red.

  "Go on," Langenstein said. "Read it."

  WHO IS THE AXMAN AND WHAT ARE HIS MOTIVES?</i>

  Police Follow A Number Of Theories In Pursuit Of The Elusive Killer.

  Is the fiend who attacked the Cortimiglias in Gretna on Sunday and butchered their infant daughter the same man who murdered the Maggios, Miss Harriet Lowe, and Mr. Vincent Romano? Is he the same man who has made all of the murderous attempts on the other families?

  If so, is he a madman, robber, vendetta agent, sadist or some supernatural spirit of evil?

  If a madman, why so cunning and careful in the execution of his crimes? If a robber, why the wanton shedding of blood and the fact that money and valuables have often been left in full view? If a vendetta agent of the Mafia, why include among his victims women and children?

  The possibilities in searching for the motives in this extraordinary series of ax butcheries are unlimited. The records show no details of importance which vary. There is the late-night entry, the ax, and the frightful effusion of blood. In these three essentials, the work of the axman is practically identical.

  Superintendent of Police Frank M. Thompson has his theory. "I am sure that all the crimes were committed by the same man, probably a bloodthirsty maniac, filled with a passion for human slaughter."

  "Why don't we have something like that?" Langenstein demanded as soon as Emile finished reading.

  Emile glanced up at his boss. "Because you took me off the Axman case and put me on the shipping news, remember? And because it's not true." He flicked his index finger hard against the article. "The Police Department is peddling this cock-and-bull story about the Axman being a bloodthirsty maniac today, but back in 1912 they were saying the attacks were a Black Hand scheme or a vendetta."

  "That was seven years ago," Langenstein said. "No one who was on the case then is even around anymore. The facts have changed. You just refuse to believe them."

  "That's because I'm more convinced now than ever that there's something queer about this whole thing."

  "Queer how?"

  "If all of the attacks are the work of one man, then why are they still holding Louis Besozzi?"

  "Because he's a German spy," Langenstein said.

  "Then why isn't he in federal custody? It's been almost a year and he hasn't been indicted. Not even the government agents who interviewed him believed he was a spy. That's why they left him here instead of taking him to Washington. Meanwhile, Besozzi is rotting in the Parish Prison, charged with murdering his housekeeper, a crime he couldn't have committed if what Thompson says in this article is true."

  Langenstein pointed to the newspaper. "Read the sidebar."

  Beside the main article was a standalone story set inside a box.

  POLICE SUPERINTENDENT BELIEVES AX MURDERS ARE WORK OF ONE MAN

  Other Experts Agree.

  Are the ax murders which have appalled New Orleans during the past several years the work of one man-a degenerate madman, diabolically cunning in his precautions against detection yet obsessed with fixed ideas as to how he shall go about his criminal work?

  Superintendent of Police Frank M. Thompson is certain of it. "As these ax murders have grown in numbers, I've been forced to the belief that they are the work of a madman," Thompson declared. "I'm convinced that the series of horrible crimes is the work of a maniac-an ax-wielding degenerate who has no robbery motive. I further believe that the ax-wielding degenerate is a sadist.

  "I have consulted several prominent persons who have made a study of crimes and criminals, and most of them are of the opinion that it is the work of one man whose obsession is only to hack people with an ax."

  Arthur Marullo, an Italian detective who has worked on several celebrated "Black Hand" cases in New Orleans, is working along the same lines as Superintendent Thompson. Detective Marullo scoffs at the "Mafia" idea.

  "I have never known the 'Mafia' to use an ax," asserted Detective Marullo.

  "The same man who committed the other ax murders in New Orleans did the work in Gretna last Sunday when Charles Cortimiglia's 2-year-old baby was murdered and he and his wife were nearly hacked to pieces," said Maurice O'Neil, another expert for the New Orleans Police Department. "I believe he is a cool-headed and heartless mercenary, who plans and undertakes his crimes in the belief that he will go scot free."

  As soon as Emile finished reading the story, he shoved the newspaper back into his boss's hands. "Thompson is just using this line of crap to distract everyone from the real story."

  "Which is?"

  Emile shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it." He leaned back over his desk and stared at the passenger manifest he had been copying. "I've got a story to write."

  "If you're going to trash the police theory of the case, you better be prepared to present one of your own," Langenstein said. "That's what any good reporter would do."

  Emile swiveled his chair to face the editor. "You know I'm a good reporter."

  "With this story, I think you've let your personal prejudices get in t
he way." Langenstein hesitated. "And I'm not the only one."

  "Who else?" Emile said.

  Langenstein made a "come on" motion with his hand. "Tell me your theory."

  Emile leaned back in his chair. "Point one," he said, raising the index finger of his right hand. "All of the Axman attacks going back to Mr. and Mrs. Davi in 1911 have involved Italian grocers, indicating the strong likelihood of a link to a Black Hand gang or the Mafia."

  Emile raised a second finger. "Point two. Dominick O'Malley's bodyguard, Patrick Shea, drove the goons who attacked the pallbearers at the Maggio funeral. That makes it probable that O'Malley was somehow involved in their murders."

  "Wait just a minute," Langenstein said.

  Emile ignored him and raised a third finger. "Point three. According to the police," he pointed to the newspaper in Langenstein's hands, "the same man who killed the Maggios also killed all the other Axman victims. Therefore, if O'Malley was involved in the Maggio murders, he was involved in all the rest."

  "You're off your rocker, Denoux."

  "Point four," Emile said, extending his little finger. "The man I saw at the Maggio funeral was the same man who killed Teddy Obitz and bashed John Dantonio on the head."

  "Hogwash," Langenstein said. "Dantonio himself said you were wrong about-"

  "I'm not done," Emile said, extending his thumb. "Point five. Superintendent Thompson tried to frame Louis Besozzi for the Axman attacks, with the obvious belief that they were finished. He was wrong. But that means the superintendent knows a lot more about the Axman than he's telling us. In fact, I think he knows who the Axman is."

  "And you think he's covering that up?" Langenstein said, his voice edged with derision.

  Emile propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and laced his hands together. "Yes, I do."

  Gene Langenstein looked down at Emile and shook his nearly bald head. "You're further gone than I thought."

  "Why do you think Thompson is granting interviews to every newspaper in town except us and trying so hard to sell his bloodthirsty maniac theory?"

  "Because that's what he believes."