Thunderstruck - Erik Larson [73]
Harrison recalled visiting the house on a day when the contradictions of Belle’s nature became strikingly evident. “I followed her into the kitchen one morning when she was busy. It was a warm, humid day, and the grimy windows were all tightly closed. On the dresser was a heterogeneous mass, consisting of dirty crockery, edibles, collars of the doctor’s, false curls of her own, hairpins, brushes, letters, a gold jeweled purse, and other articles.” In the kitchen the gas stove was brown with rust and stained from cooking. “The table was littered with packages, saucepans, dirty knives, plates, flat-irons, a washing basin, and a coffee pot.” And yet in the midst of this clutter, a white chiffon gown with silk flowers lay draped “carelessly” across a chair.
At the window, which was closed, stood one of Belle’s cats. “The little lady cat, who was a prisoner, was scratching wildly at a window in a vain attempt to attract the attention of a passing Don Juan.”
OUTWARDLY, THE CRIPPENS seemed to have an idyllic marriage. Neighbors in the houses on either side and in back reported often seeing the couple at work together in the garden, and that Belle often sang. One neighbor, Jane Harrison, who lived next door at No. 38, reported, “They always appeared on very affectionate terms and I never heard them quarrel or have a cross word.” On four occasions Harrison came over to help Belle prepare for parties, including one large affair that Belle hosted for the birthday of George Washington “Pony” Moore, manager of the blackface Moore and Burgess Christy Minstrels.
But those with a closer view saw a relationship that was not quite so idyllic. For one brief period Belle did try having a servant, a woman named Rhoda Ray. “Mr. and Mrs. Crippen were not altogether friendly to each other,” Ray said, “and they spoke very little together.” And a friend, John Burroughs, noticed that Belle could be “somewhat hasty” in her treatment of her husband. One change in how they configured their home appeared to cause no great concern among their friends, though within a few years it would take on great significance. For the first time in their marriage the Crippens occupied separate bedrooms.
What Belle’s friends and neighbors did not seem to grasp was that Belle was lonely. She stayed at the house most of the time, though she often left for lunch, typically departing at about one o’clock and returning about three. She found comfort in pets, and soon the house was full of mewing and chirping and, eventually, barking. She acquired two cats, one an elegant white Persian; she bought seven canaries and installed them in a large gilt cage, another common feature of homes in the neighborhood. Later she and Crippen acquired a bull terrier.
At one point soon after moving into the house, she decided to take in boarders and placed an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph. Soon three young German men took up residence in the top-floor bedrooms. One of them, Karl Reinisch, later recalled that Belle had wanted more than just income.
He told his story in a letter that is now in the possession of Scotland Yard’s Black Museum, accessible only to police officers and invited guests:
The house had a “beautiful garden,” Reinisch wrote, and was situated on “a quiet, better street.” He considered himself lucky to have been accepted as a tenant. “It counted at that time as a certain distinction to obtain board and lodging in the house of Dr. Crippen,” he wrote. Crippen was “extremely quiet, gentlemanly, not only in thought but also in behaviour, not only towards his wife but also to me and everyone else. He idolized his wife, and sensed her every wish which he hastened to fulfill.” That first Christmas, 1905, offered