Submitted by admin on Sun, 2005-10-30 09:00. ::
Fred Oesterreich was a big man who had a big appetite and smoked big cigars. That's all Frank had that was big. In 1903, in Milwaukee, Wisc., he owned a thriving apron factory. Fred's wife, Walburga, was a gorgeous woman, with a figure that could wake a corpse.
The Oesterreiches simply didn't get along. Oh, sure, they had been married for 15 years, lived in a comfortable home and were wealthy. But there were problems. We already covered one of Fred's shortcomings. He also drank heavily, spent most of his time at the apron factory and, in general, neglected Walburga.
One fine day, Walburga was whiling away the time stitching something on her sewing machine when it jammed. Fred sent over one of the boys from the factory to repair the machine.
Otto Sanhuber, 17, showed up. Little Otto stood just a smidgeon under five feet, had a receding chin, buggy eyes and suffered from a severe case of acne. More often than not, his nose dripped.
Who knows what chemistry takes place between us mortals. Before the day was over, Walburga was well aware that whatever deficiencies plagued her husband certainly didn't apply to Otto. As for Otto, he figured he had died and gone to heaven.
Walburga and Otto couldn't get enough of each other. No sooner did Fred leave the house each morning than Otto would sneak in to make love to Walburga. While he was at it, Otto partook of Fred's abundant supply of liquor and food.
For three years, this rather idyllic but risky situation continued. Walburga couldn't think about life without Otto. To alleviate her fears, she came up with a bizarre idea.
Walburga suggested that Otto move into her home and take up occupancy in the attic. She would have it furnished to suit his particular requirements. A candle, which could not be seen through the lone far window. Otto would have the best food, Havana cigars, vintage wines and, not to be forgotten, as much sex as any man could desire. Rather coincidental, but nevertheless extremely convenient, was the location of the trap door to the attic -- in the master bedroom, directly above the bed. Otto moved in.
The arrangement proved to be ideal for all concerned, if you don't count Fred. The confinement wasn't so bad for Otto -- he had the run of the house whenever Fred was out, which was often.
To pass the time when he wasn't performing at his specialty, Otto wrote adventure stories. Walburga typed them and sent them off to the pulps. Initially, all Otto received for his trouble was a drawer full of rejection slips. But he persevered and started receiving cheques on a regular basis. Walburga opened a bank account for him.
Fred, now completely alienated from his wife, took to the sauce with a vengeance. As the years slipped by, he became a nag, always complaining about large food bills. His cigars were forever being depleted. When he complained of noise coming from the attic and wouldn't accept Walburga's explanation of mice scurrying about, she suggested he seek psychiatric help. Fred soon became a regular on the couch. As a diversion, he often came home with a head of steam and took a few punches at his wife. Walburga was philosophical. It was a small price to pay.
There were some close calls. One day Fred came home unexpectedly and caught Otto raiding the fridge. Thinking he had apprehended a thief, Fred tossed Otto out of the house. He never for a moment realized that he was manhandling his wife's lover. Two hours later, Otto was nibbling on chicken cacciatore while he dashed off to a China seas adventure -- in the attic of course.
The weird lifestyle of Otto, Walburga and Fred sailed merrily along for the next four years, right up until the night of Aug. 22, 1922. That night, Fred came home loaded. He commenced to punch out Walburga. Otto, who was now far more of a husband to Walburga than her legal spouse, saw red. The little fellow, dashed down out of his attic retreat, grabbed a .25 calibre pistol off a shelf and unceremoniously ventilated Fred with more holes than your average Swiss cheese.
Walburga, a quick thinker on her feet, immediately took over. She snatched Fred's expensive diamond studded watch off his wrist. She told Otto to get the hell back in that attic. Then she locked herself in a closet and slipped the key under the door into the room where her husband Fred lay so very dead.
A neighbour, who had heard the shots, called police. They released the hysterical Walburga from her closet. She told the police that she and her husband had arrived home and surprised a burglar. Fred resisted when the intruder attempted to relieve him of his watch. The intruder fired. He then tossed her in the closet and locked the door. Police had some misgivings, but reluctantly bought Walburga's story.
Fred's estate was valued at around one million dollars, but there were many details to be ironed out before money trickled down to the grieving widow. Walburga hired a lawyer, Herman Shapiro. During one of her visits to Shapiro's office, she gave him a present, a diamond studded wristwatch. Shapiro remembered that a diamond studded watch had been taken from slain Fred's wrist. When he mentioned this to Walburga, she smiled and said she had been mistaken. She had found the wristwatch under a cushion in the living room and simply wanted Shapiro to have it as a gift.
A coincidence did Walburga in. It was a year after Fred's death. Detective Herman Cline, the officer in charge of the original inquiry into Fred's murder, dropped in to chat with lawyer Shapiro. He stood flabbergasted as he stared at the dead man's watch carelessly lying on Shapiro's desk. When asked, Shapiro related the story Walburga had told him.
Cline rushed over to Walburga's home and took the widow into custody. Walburga phoned Shapiro with explicit instructions, "Go up to the big bedroom in my home. Tap three times on the trap door in the attic. There's someone up there -- a half brother of mine who is sort of a vagabond. Tell him I've gone to Milwaukee."
Shapiro did as he was told. Out popped Otto. Shapiro contacted a criminal lawyer, who suggested that Otto take a short trip out of the country. Otto tapped those dollars which had been accumulating from his stories and took off for Vancouver.
Meanwhile, back at the L.A. jail, police released the widow. Seven years passed, Walburga lived well on Fred's inheritance until 1930. That's when she and lawyer Shapiro had a falling out over financial affairs. Shapiro decided to go to the police.
Walburga and Otto, who had returned to L.A., were both arrested and charged with Fred's murder. Otto was found guilty of manslaughter. As the statute of limitations had run out after three years, he was released from custody. Now 44, the little stud wandered out of court and into oblivion. He had spent a total of 19 years in sundry attics.
At Walburga's trial, the jury failed to agree. She too was released from custody. The 63- year-old Walburga left the courtroom with an abundance of money and sweet memories.
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