The Plum Jelly Murder Case
by
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(Mrs. Weldon is the wife of the murdered man. She is in Hannible Hathaway Hoe's private eye office with Hannible and Turlock Holmes.) (Mrs. Weston says:) "A man by the name of Christian Aurick killed him and I need help to prove it!" Mrs. Weldon's face was resolute and bitter. "Do you mind if I record this conversation?" I asked. "I find recording quicker and more convenient than short hand. My secretary will transcribe it later." "Not at all, Mr. Hoe," Mrs. Weldon replied. Angie (Hoe's secretary) went to her desk and brought the recorder to my desk and sat it down near me. "Would you like a cup of coffee, Mrs. Weldon?" Angie asked. "Yes, I would, thank you," Mrs. Weldon answered. She tried to smile, but her face just twisted in bitterness and grief. We waited silently while Angie brought Mrs. Weldon a cup of coffee and then sat down again. I turned on the tape recorder. "Please go on," I said. "Start at the beginning." "Yes, thank you. My husband is-ah-was in the Real Estate business. He had two offices. One, here in Long Beach, and one in Huntington Beach. Mr. Weldon ran the Long Beach office with two salesmen and Christian Aurick ran the Huntington Beach office with two salesmen. Do you want all their names? All right. Dale Cutler and Edson Ives worked with my husband in Long Beach. Jerome Radburn and Philip Peters worked with Christian Aurick in Huntington Beach. "Once a month my husband held a sales meeting at a restaurant either in Long Beach or in Huntington Beach. This time the meeting was held in the Hyatt House coffee shop. The Hyatt House, as you probably know, is a large motel complex on Pacific Coast Highway and Marina Drive across the street from the Long Beach Marina. "According to the police report I received from a Mr. Estrada, who is in charge of the case, my husband and his salesmen met in the Hyatt House coffee shop at noon, Saturday, May 9th, two days ago. A few minutes later my husband grabbed his stomach in great pain, then collapsed across the table. His salesmen tried to help him, but he didn't respond. They called the paramedics, who arrived in minutes, but the paramedics too, could not help my husband. The paramedics took him to Saint Mary's hospital where he was pronounced dead in the emergency room. "I was notified and I rushed to the hospital. The doctors in the emergency room told me my husband must have had a heart attack, but I disagreed. My husband was only 44 years old. He was in very good health. I insisted that the doctors pump his stomach and examine the contents. The doctors refused at first so I threw a tantrum. In fact, I raised so much hell they finally agreed. I also insisted on calling the police. No one would call them so I called them and raised some more hell. I've got some friends in town. I mentioned some of their names. The police agreed to send someone. "God, the struggle it takes to get someone to do something." "I returned to the emergency room after calling the police. The doctors had pumped out my husband's stomach. They told me my husband had been poisoned by cyanide. The doctors recognized the smell." "I insisted they save the contents of my husband's stomach for the police. They did so." "A police officer came to the hospital. When he was told that my husband had been poisoned he called Mr. Estrada who, I understand, works in the homicide department." "By this time I was a wreck. I collapsed. The doctors gave me a sedative and put me in bed in a private room. I didn't wake up until Sunday morning at about 9 a.m. I left the hospital and went home. Mr. Estrada had left me a message to call him. I called him at the police station. He asked if I would agree to an autopsy. I said yes. Then he told me he had interviewed my husband's salesmen, and then he told me what had happened at the Hyatt House which is what I told you." Mrs. Weldon paused, dabbed at her eyes, and took a sip of coffee. "Who poisoned your husband?" Holmes asked gently. "Christian Aurick," Mrs. Weldon snapped savagely, bursting into tears. Holmes waited silently for a moment while Mrs. Weldon regained control of herself and dried her tears, then: "Why do you think so?" he asked. "Because my husband accidentally killed his wife in a car accident," Mrs. Weldon said, crying again. "Chris always wanted to get even with Zeph, always. I know it, I know it!" After her outburst Mrs. Weldon sobbed quietly with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes.
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About the Book
Turlock Holmes, a private crime investigator, and Hannable Hathaway Hoe, a private eye, collaborate on another murder case, The Plum Jelly Murder Case. A man dies while eating lunch with a group of men friends in a local restaurant. The men all work for the dead man who was a Real Estate broker. His wife goes to see Hannable Hoe in his office where she insists that her husband was murdered even though there is no evidence of murder. She offers a one hundred fifty thousand dollar reward, to any one who can find her husband's murderer. Turlock Holmes is in Hannable's office at this time. He and Hannable decide to take the case. They want the hundred and fifty grand. They have no clues, or suspects, or evidence, just the murdered man's wife's feeling that her husband was murdered by one of his friends, but how can a man murder another man in broad daylight sitting around a table in a restaurant with friends? Holmes says he can solve the case in a week, stunning Hannable. Can they do it with no suspects, no evidence, no clues?
About the Author
Robert James Warner was born and raised in Long Beach, California. He went to the local schools. He was drafted into the Navy on March 9th, 1944, during the 2nd World War as soon as he finished his last semester in High School. He was discharged from the Navy on June 16, 1946. Mr. Warner went back to school, Long Beach City College, on the G.I. Bill, taking Mechanical Engineering, then he switched to journalism. After about a year and a half at City College he quit. Mr. Warner had always been interested in writing, but he had huge handicaps to overcome: he couldn't spell (he still can't); and grammar was then and is now a mystery to him. Mr. Warner first began to write when he was about 20. During the next few years he wrote some songs and some poetry and some short stories, but his output was quite low. From 1947, after Mr. Warner left City College, to 1950, he had a number of different inconsequential jobs, the longest at Douglas Aircraft in Long Beach where he worked in the blueprint department for eight months, then he quit and loafed awhile. In 1950 he enlisted in the Active Naval Reserve as a Weekend Warrior, so he could learn seamanship and get paid doing it. He has had a life long love affair with boats (building his own) and fishing. About three months later, the Korean War started and Mr. Warner was called back to active duty in the Navy Aircorp for a year, getting discharged in August, 1951, serving on three aircraft carriers, operating off of Korea in the China Sea, bombing and strafing the communists! After Korea, Mr. Warner went back to City College for awhile, then he got a job on a freighter as a deckhand, and made two trips to the Hawaiian Islands, about 30 days round trip, hauling bulk sugar for C&H Sugar in Crocket California on the Sacramento River. Leaving the ship in Crocket he went to Santa Rosa, California, where he washed dishes in some restaurants and got a poem published in the local newspaper, a big day in his life. Next, he went to Yosemite, and washed some more dishes then he went home. Mr. Warner has cleaned chicken dung from under the pens; he owned and operated his own auto wrecking yard; owned his own 2nd Store; was half owner of a Yacht Landing; speculated in Real Estate and worked at some other odd jobs, going to work for the Long Beach Fire Department in 1953 for the next 26 years, retiring in October 1979. Mr. Warner got married in 1961, had his son in 1963, then got divorced in 1973. In 1974, Mr. Warner and his son, Jeff, drove to Alaska during the summer. On his return, Mr. Warner wrote his first novel. Since 1974, Mr. Warner has written 15 novels, about 125 short stories, two Civil War books, and two poetry collections.