True Crime Campfire - The Princess and the Poisoner: The Crimes of Arthur Waite

Episode Date: July 10, 2026

There are some crimes and schemes that must be just about as old as humanity itself. I’m sure handsome scammers have been wooing the daughters of wealthy families for about as long as the concepts of marriage and inheritance have existed. And I’m equally sure that every now and again, one of those handsome scammers got tired of waiting for nature to take its course, and decided to hurry along his in-laws’ journey to the grave. This week’s story is about a man who was entirely of his time, but chose to seek his fortune through these timeless means. Sources: Tobin T. Buhk, Poisoning the Pecks of Grand Rapids Join us live at Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp in Equinunk, PA, September 10-13th! Visit ⁠badmagicproductions.com⁠ for more info and to buy tickets.   Tickets are on sale now for CrimeWave 2.0! Visit crimewaveatsea.com/CAMPFIRE to get your discount code for $100 off your cabin and a private meet-and-greet with us! The cruise is Feb. 8-12, 2027. Follow us, campers!Patreon (join to get all episodes ad-free, at least a day early, an extra episode a month, and a free sticker!): https://patreon.com/TrueCrimeCampfirehttps://www.truecrimecampfirepod.com/Facebook: True Crime CampfireInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/truecrimecampfire/?hl=enEmail: [e-mail]! https://true-crime-campfire.myspreadshop.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hello, campers, grab your marshmallows and gather around the true crime campfire. We're your camp counselors. I'm Katie. And I'm Whitney. And we're here to tell you a true story that is way stranger than fiction. We're roasting murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire. There are some crimes and schemes that must be just about as old as humanity itself. I'm sure handsome scammers have been wooing the daughters of wealthy families for about as long as the concepts of marriage and inheritance have existed.

And I'm equally sure that every now and again, one of those handsome scammers got tired of waiting for nature to take its course and decided to hurry along his in-laws' journey to the grave. This week's story is about a man who was entirely of his time, but chose to seek his fortune through these timeless means. This is the princess and the poisoner, the crimes of Arthur Waite. So, campers, for this one, we're in Grand Rapids, Michigan, March 1916. Percy Peck waited at the Union Depot train station. His task was a grim one and all too familiar. The train was about to arrive from New York and it would be carrying his father's body. Just six weeks earlier, Percy had stood at the same station waiting for a train carrying his mother's body. Both had been visiting in New York with Percy's sister Clara and her new husband, and both had quickly fallen ill and then died.

Their mother Hannah had been in poor health, but the same one, wasn't true for their father John. His death was a shock. Still, in 1916, quick fatal illnesses weren't exactly uncommon, and in all likelihood, John Peck would have been buried without any suspicion. Except that just before he'd left for the station, Percy had received a telegram from New York. It read, to Mr. and Mrs. Percy Peck. Suspicion aroused, demand autopsy. Do not reveal telegram. The message was signed K. Adams Coliseum, New York. Now, this wasn't the sender's name, but a subtle allusion to their suspicions. The 1898 poisoning death of landlady Catherine Adams was still notorious in New York. But the illusion was too subtle. Percy had no idea who K. Adams was, but he

recognized Coliseum, which was the apartment building where Clara and her husband Arthur lived and where both elder Pecks had died. Mysterious. Yeah. It didn't take much to inflame Percy's suspicions of Clara's husband, Arthur Waite, who he had never liked and never trusted. The couple were accompanying the body back to Grand Rapids, and as soon as the train arrived, Percy demanded that Arthur hand over the baggage check for his father's body.

Surprised, Arthur just kind of gaped and stuttered for a second, but what could he do? He handed over the check, and Percy had an unethical. Undertaker take John Peck's body to his mortuary. Then he called the family doctor, Dr. Shirts, and asked him to perform an autopsy. Clara told Percy that their father had become violently ill after eating some ice cream, then got even worse after having some eggnog, suffering from severe nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. The New York authorities had listed the cause of death as a combination of heart disease and nephritis, but as Percy described the symptoms to Shirts, the doctor immediately whispered, arsonic. I love that he whispered it. It's so dramatic. Arsenic.

The symptoms of arsenic poisoning could mimic severe food poisoning, and it was not at all difficult to get hold of the stuff. Arsenic was among the most common poisons used with homicidal intent. John Peck's body had two small post-mortem injuries. He'd been embalmed with the fluid injected into an artery in his arm, and blood and gases drained from a second incision on the abdomen. Oh, sorry. This would be significant because until recently, in both New York and Michigan, arsenic was a frequently used component of embalming fluid. It was now an illegal ingredient in both states, but tradespeople don't always discard techniques that they know work well just because of new regulations, right? If the body contained arsenic, the embalming could potentially be a source.

When Dr. Shirts removed John Peck's heart and kidneys, he found no sign of disease on them. The official cause of death was incorrect. The stomach, however, was severely contracted and inflamed. Inside, it was modeled with purple spots with what looked like fine white powder at the center of each one. That evening, Dr. Shirts would take the stomach and intestines in jars by train to the University of Michigan and Ann Arbor, where they could properly be tested for arsenic. But this looked like poisoning to him. The Pecks were a wealthy family and lived in a 10-bedroom mansion on Washington Street.

Percy had dinner there with his sister and her husband, throughout which Arthur Waite became increasingly suspicious. John Peck's funeral would take place in the home, and yet there was still no sign of the body being delivered from the Undertaker. After dinner, he called up and interrogated the Undertaker, saying, I personally want a post-mortem, but my wife will not stand for it. The Undertaker decided that discretion was the better part of valor here and said he knew nothing about a post-mortem. So Arthur marched into the mortuary on the way back to his hotel, carrying a flower and a small picture of Clara, which he said his wife had asked him to place in the casket.

Aw. The Undertaker told him the casket was sealed and would not be opened. What is Percy Peck's idea, Arthur said. Neither my wife nor I will permit an autopsy. And he marched out again. You know, if there's one place where it's super classy to have yourself a little temper tanty, it's a mortuary. Definitely. Back at the hotel, he called Percy to tell him that one of John Peck's last wishes as he lay dying in New York was that his body be cremated.

Convenient. But Percy wasn't buying it. And after his funeral, John Peck's body was laid to rest in the the family crypt in Oak Hill Cemetery, with a hired guard standing watch to make sure no one tried to steal the body or otherwise tamper with it. This was immediately useful because the doctors in Ann Arbor found plenty of arsenic and John's remains, which almost certainly could not have come from embalming, even if they'd used an old embalming fluid recipe that included it. Did we have to call that a recipe? Gross. Right? I'd prefer concoction.

Yeah, that's better. But to remove the... that almost certainly, they wanted to study John Peck's brain, which would only show signs of arsenic poisoning if he'd ingested the stuff. There would have to be a second autopsy. At the funeral, meanwhile, Percy took Reverend Wissert aside and asked him to solve the mystery of his father's death. This sounds like the start of a 30-book series of cozy mystery novels, all of which I would devour. Absolutely. And Wichert would be a perfect main character. A New York native, he was energetic and had a fiery hatred for injustice. He'd also been a longtime friend of John Peck and was immediately determined to bring his poisoner to justice.

Why Percy chose the Reverend for this task is not really clear. Reverend Wishert was a smart guy who was familiar with New York, so that might have been all it took. I think there's just something in the ether that tells us that priests and, like, medieval monks should solve murder. Yes. Like, it's just, it pops up all the time, right? Literally. In excellent British TV shows. Literally the last, uh, Knives Out movie was, was, uh, was, uh, there you go.

That's, they really, I think a lot of reverence probably solve murders as a side hustle. Yeah. If they don't, they should. They should, absolutely. Especially if they live in picturesque English villages. Lots of murders, lots of murders going around there. That's something I thought about whenever I watch one of those shows is I'm like, they don't have enough people to murder there. I know. Like, how big is this town? People are dropping like flies.

That's good stuff. So the next morning, the Reverend and Dr. Shirts caught the train to New York and started sleuthing. They interviewed the two undertakers who'd embalmed John Peck's body, who remembered how eager Arthur Wade had been to have the body embalmed and whisked away to the train station as fast as possible. They also remembered that John's body had been unusually limp, apparently free of the normal rigor mortis. This can be a sign of arsenic poisoning. Next, our two amateur detectives spoke to the doctors who had pronounced the causes of deaths for both Hannah and John Peck. The two physicians were predictably defensive and stuck to their diagnoses of death by natural causes, but they did admit that both deaths had been surprising. Then Reverend Wissert and Dr. Shirts traveled to New Jersey to visit with Dr. Jacob Cornell,

who had been a lifelong friend of John Peck. The doctor was an elderly gent who lived in a manor house with his two sisters, and our investigator suspected he was the source of the K. Adams telegram to Percy that had crystallized his suspicions about his father's death. But Cornell shook his head. It wasn't him, but he wondered if it might have been his nephew, Arthur Swinton. Swinton had told him about a time he'd bumped into Arthur Waite at the Plaza Hotel restaurant. Wade had been at the table with a pretty young woman who was very definitely not his wife

and got all nervous and agitated when Swinton came over. Uh-huh. Wait, a dental surgeon, said that the woman was his nurse, and they'd just performed a complex surgery and decided to get lunch afterward. Swinton was not remotely convinced, and even if he had been, it was a woman. a pretty poor cover story. If a surgeon's having an affair, then pretty nurse is pretty much at the top of the list of likely partners. You know, I mean, dentists are an interesting bunch of folks. Okay, they might consider complex gum surgery a form of foreplay for all we know. A chair, you know, it just kind of like calls to them. Cornell's suspicions about the source of the

telegram were close, but off the mark. It hadn't come from his nephew. It had come from his niece, Elizabeth Hardwick, who'd heard that Plaza Hotel story. She'd also heard Dr. Cornell talk about what a frosty reception he'd gotten from Arthur Waite when he'd visited after John Peck's death. She'd intuitively suspected foul play and sent the message north. Arthur Waite didn't do anything to alleviate Percy's suspicions at the reading of John Peck's will, which provided Percy and Clara with equal shares of his inheritance, about half a million dollars each. It can get a little loosey-goosey translating monetary values from that long ago, but whatever way you slice it, these were just staggering amounts of money, something like $15 million each in today's money. After the reading,

Arthur approached his brother-in-law. Percy, he said, we have had a lot of trouble of late. The deaths of your father and mother have been just as big a blow to me as they have been to you, and they have been an even bigger blow to Clara. I hate to think of such things, but I'm afraid Clara has not long to live. You know her nervous temperament and her physical condition, and I'm afraid of the future. If Clara died, of course, all her inheritance would become his. Ooh, boy, that does not sound good. If I were Clara, I would beat feet the hell out of town. There was also another peck, John's elderly sister, Catherine, who had no children of her own and who, like Arthur and Clara, lived in New York. Arthur wasn't optimistic about her chance,

either. She's getting along in years and might die any time, he told Percy. It's terrible that death should stare the Peck family in the face the way it has. It seems so queer. Ever since my marriage to Clara, it has just been death after death. Where will it strike next? Wow, man, way to fly under the radar. This freaking guy. It's like you remember parks and recreation, don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious. And not only that, he sounds like a comic book villain or like a Bond villain. He's like, it would be a shame if something were to happen. What do you mean? It's so dumb. He's so dumb. Or maybe just so arrogant. I don't know.

But what benefit that could possibly be for him? I cannot imagine. So I think he was just clueless that this would immediately telegraphed to everybody like, hey, I'm murdering your family members one by one and I'm not done yet. You know, geez Louise. And just to fill out the bingo card of surviving picks, Arthur later told Percy's wife, you know, I'm afraid this is telling on Percy. I've been watching him the last few days and I can see certain symptoms in him that were so

evident in his father's last sickness. I don't want to scare you, but I don't believe he will live six months. Holy shit. So what was going on here? We've talked before about the concept of leakage, which is when a guilty person just kind of accidentally tells on themselves, but this wasn't so much a leak as a tsunami. It almost looks like Arthur was enjoying tormenting the Peck family, high on the fact that Clara was now incredibly wealthy. He must have felt invincible. Clara was in fact really sick, suffering from fevers and fatigue.

She'd barely been able to get out of bed since her father died. Everyone assumed she was just overcome with her. with grief at the death of her parents. The truth was much more terrifying, but it wouldn't be revealed for quite some time yet. Clara and Arthur hadn't been married long, having tied the knot barely six months earlier. Their wedding had been a huge affair

because John Peck was a pharmaceutical tycoon and one of the wealthiest men in Grand Rapids. Arthur Waite was from a humbler background, the son of a fruit and vegetable wholesaler. They were never rich, but he had a comfortable enough middle-class upbringing, becoming a star athlete and going to the University of Michigan to study dentistry. He'd also been an impulsive thief from an early age,

but no one in his family was going to mention that to their wealthy new in-laws. The couple had first met in 1906 at a dance, when Arthur was 19 and Clara 16, and bumped into each other a few more times over the following years. Arthur moved to practice dentistry in South Africa after graduation from college, where he had great success, buying two farms and a diamond mine. At least, that was what he claimed in his occasional letters to Clara.

In 1914, Clara heard Arthur was back in the U.S. as a dental surgeon in New York and sent him an invitation to one of her mother's receptions. After that, Arthur lavished attention on Clara, pressing her for a quickie wedding. Arthur was athletic, handsome, had a million-dollar smile, was apparently successful, and was the most charming man Clara had ever known. She fell for him completely. Here we go. Someone's already claiming this is our year. Someone else said that last year, too. A round of Jameson, ginger, and lime arrives at the table.

Smooth enough for kickoff, smooth enough for extra time. New friends pulling up a stool. Debates about whether that was a handball. Cheers rising like a roar around the room. Because match days are about the shared moments. How did Jameson to your match day lineup? Jameson, it's what you bring. Please enjoy our products responsibly.

The war is over and both sides lost. Kingdoms were reduced to cinders, an army scattered like bones in the dust. Now the survivors claw to what's left of a broken world, praying the darkness chooses someone else tonight. But in the shadow dark, the darkness always wins. This is old-school adventuring at its most cruel. Your torch ticks down in real time. and when that flame dies, something else rises to finish the job. This is a brutal rules-light nightmare with a story that emerges organically based on the decisions that the characters make.

This is what it felt like to play RPGs in the 80s, and man, it is so good to be back. Join the Glass Cannon podcast as we plunge into the Shadow Dark every Thursday night at 8 p.m. Eastern on YouTube.com slash the Glass Cannon with the podcast version dropping the next day. See what everybody's talking about and join us in the door. Her brother Percy didn't like Arthur at all. He thought he was oily, just after the family money. There was no shortage of red flags. Percy knew some of the guys who'd gone to college with Arthur, and they told him that weight was notoriously light-fingered,

stealing any little bit of cash he could. And when Arthur went to visit a couple of Clara's friends, he tried to talk one of them into bed, like almost immediately. She shot him down. So after knowing her for maybe a day, he proposed to her. You know, to see if that might help loosen up her petticoats. Oh, my God. You're engaged to Clara Peck, she said.

You've no right to propose to me. Hell no. That's girl code, man. What's wrong with you? Weight denied ever being engaged to Clara. So the friend sent a quick letter back to Grand Rapids. Like, hey, just FYI, this asshole is trying to get with me, and he says he's not engaged to you. Clara wrote back, yes, of course they were engaged.

Both her friends sent letters flying back, urging her to break things off with Percy joining in. But Clara had her mind made up. She said she'd marry Arthur if it killed her. It nearly did. Girl. I know. I know. In New York, Reverend Wishert realized he had reached the limits of his investigative abilities and hired a renowned.

detective Raymond Schindler. The first thing Schindler did was call Percy Peck and ask him to find some reason to keep Clara in Grand Rapins for her own safety. He and Percy made up a story that she'd have to stay while the lawyers drew up the inheritance paperwork. Arthur wasn't about to stand in the way of that, so he took the train back to New York by himself. He was probably glad to be alone because it didn't take many visits to Manhattan bars and restaurants for Schindler to discover that Arthur Waite's favorite hobby was whining and dining showgirls all over town, spending money like he was the richest man in the world. It was his wife's money because Schindler also discovered that weight wasn't actually licensed

to perform dental surgery and wasn't registered at any hospital in the city. He had no income of his own. Wow. You know, it's so funny how this guy is just the early 1900s version of so many of this. dipshits we've covered, right? Like, just lying about absolutely everything and cheating with everything he can get his hands on. It's just some things don't change. It's amazing. Yeah, no job, no degree, no pro. Like, no, no truth in anything he said. It's crazy. Yeah, no nothing. Schindler arranged a meeting with himself, Reverend Wischert and the district attorney Edward

Swann to discuss the case. A telegram received a few hours earlier added more weight to the meeting. It was from Ann Arbor, where the doctors had been studying John Peck's organs, and the message consisted of just one word, arsenic. Can I just say, I wish we could bring telegrams back because they're just so dramatic. I know. There's like just one word, arsenic. And then you're just supposed to like, there's no clarifying. You can't send a text back and be like, what? What do you mean?

Or like the secret message in the initial telegram. Like, I just, there's so much mystery in telegrams. I just, we should bring him back. This case is such a movie. Like, it's just, every part of it is like that. It's so dramatic. Yeah. I just love it.

Swan agreed the circumstances were deeply suspicious, but wanted more evidence before he pulled the trigger on an arrest. The next day, as Waite was on the train from Michigan, Schindler talked the superintendent at the Coliseum building into letting him snoop around the Waite's apartment. He found glass lines labeled typhoid and a book on pharmacology with strips of yellow paper used to bookmark pages discussing the effects of arsenic on the human body. In the bedroom, he picked up one of several framed photographs of the newlywed couple and felt

something on the back of the frame. Turning it over, he found a small paper packet holding a white powder, cocaine. Now, it wasn't illegal to possess cocaine in 1916, and it was reasonably common as a prescription medication or local anesthetic. Yeah, the 19-10, pens were a wild time. But of course it was also used recreationally, and the fact that this packet had been hidden suggested that Waite was keeping a secret habit from his wife. I guess you could get away with the lot as a PI in 1916, because before he left, Schindler installed a tap on Waite's phone line so he could listen in on his calls. Schindler and Reverend Wichert went from the Coliseum to Grand Central Station to wait for the Wolverine Express to arrive from Michigan.

Schindler wanted Wissert to point out weight when he got off the train. The Reverend was clearly getting into his role, having bought a fedora which he pulled down low over his eyes so Waite wouldn't recognize him. I love this. This guy is a camper to his soul. Schindler got more than he could have hoped for.

As soon as the train stopped, Arthur Waite jumped out and ran for the nearest phone booth. Schindler pretended to make a call in the adjoining booth and eavesdropped as Waite asked the operator to connect him to the plaza hotel, where he asked for room 1105. A few seconds later, Wait said, pay the bill and get out quick. I cannot meet you anymore at present because I am being shadowed. Then he hung up and trotted out of the station. I've been made. See, I got to cheese it and lay low.

The clerk at the plaza revealed that room 1105 had been occupied for the last month by a doctor and Mrs. A.W. Walters. A photo of Wade confirmed that he was this Dr. Walters. Mrs. Walters had just left in quite a hurry. I'm guessing no one at the plaza believed the couple were actually married because they'd only ever stayed overnight in their room one time, but often met there in the daytime. They might as well have signed in as Mr. and Mrs. I am cheating.

Scandy. Arthur Waite's mind was racing. whether through paranoia or accurate intuition, he knew he was being investigated. As it happened, he'd been dragging his heels about paying the undertakers, and the one who'd actually embalmed John Peck, Eugene Kane, phoned to remind him. Wait saw an opportunity, but refused to talk about it over the phone. He sent a note to Kane, don't telephone me, for the wires are tapped, don't worry about the check. He arranged to meet Kane in a cigar store, and when he arrived, Waite flashed his well-pulled

practiced smile. I can put you on easy street if you do as I tell you, he said. He told Kane that the district attorney was certain to ask for a sample of the embalming fluid used on John Peck, and Kane was to make sure that it contained arsenic. If weight was ever brought to trial, Kane was to testify that arsenic had been in the embalming fluid, and he shoved a stack of cash into Eugene Kane's pocket, $9,300 of fortune in 1916. It would be nice to say that Kane, you know, ran straight to the authorities, but no. He didn't prepare any arsenic-laden embalming fluid either, just took the cash and sat on it. Kind of just waiting to see what happened.

District Attorney Swan asked John Peck's elderly sister Catherine in for a chat. She was close with both Clara and Arthur Waite and was also potentially in some danger herself. She had no children, and Percy and Clara stood to inherit her considerable fortune. Catherine refused to believe that Wade had anything to do with the deaths of her brother and sister-in-law. Over the few months she'd known him, she'd come to adore Arthur who had made an art of charming old ladies. He had lunch with her almost every day and spent hours talking with her, entertaining her with adventure stories of his time in Africa. He even gave her business advice. She'd given him $40,000 to invest for her.

You ain't seen that again. but although she was convinced of Arthur's innocence, she could see the DA remain suspicious, so she convinced Arthur to come in and talk with DA Swan himself. Now this was probably Arthur thinking ahead to a possible trial, where it would look good if he voluntarily came in to talk with the authorities. When Swan told him that they'd found arsenic and John Peck's body, Arthur didn't seem shaken at all.

He thought he'd already taken care of that angle with the payoff to the undertaker. When Swan explained that medical tests showed that the art it could not have come from the embalming process, Waite kept up his calm veneer, but his heart must have started just thumping. Swan didn't come out and accuse Waite there and then, just asked him if the Pecks had any enemies, who he thought might be behind any murder.

Wait made a show of thinking deeply for a few seconds and said, Percy Peck. Swan promised to look into that, and Waite left, apparently unconcerned. He was actually freaking out. He hurried to meet up with the mysterious Mrs. Walters and sent her to the pharmacy to obtain packets of trianol and sulfanol, sedatives used as sleep aids.

He leaned in for a kiss, but she gave him the cheek. He pulled the diamond ring from his pocket and pressed it into her hand, then hurried away. A little later, Mrs. Walters dispatched a delivery boy to pick up a few personal items she'd left at the plaza. Raymond Schindler had been waiting in the lobby precisely for something like this, and when the messenger left with the suitcase a half hour later, Schindler followed him to an apartment building on West 72nd Street. When the poor kid came out again, Schindler put the fright on him until he spilled the name of his client.

Mrs. Walters was actually Margaret Horton. Otilla Margaret Weaver had been born in Cincinnati in 1892. Her father had been a traveling salesman, but both her parents died when she was young. When she was 21 years old, she was living in a boarding house when she met 36-year-old Harry Horton. Margaret Weaver apparently could make quite an impression

because just four days after they met, on Valentine's Day, 1914, they got married. And shortly afterwards moved to New York so that Margaret could pursue her dreams of a Broadway career. And this is pure supposition, but I'm guessing, I'll take you to Broadway, featured Broadway, featured prominently in Harry Horton's proposal.

You know it is. Four days she married him. Four days. God, like you've got to be promising her something. You know? Lord. Instead of dental surgery, Arthur Waite spent his days catching shows and hitting on women, and he was immediately smitten with Margaret when he saw her on stage at the Academy of Music. The weight case was big news, and when Margaret's part in it came to light, she sat down with a reporter from the evening world newspaper to describe her relationship with Arthur

in a way that absolutely no one believed. They shared a passion for the arts, she said, particularly music and drama, and soon began to study together. In fact, they enjoyed studying so much that two months after they met, Arthur rented the room at the plaza so that they could spend the whole afternoon studying. Come on, Margie, I'm going to study the tits off you. She insisted the relationship was entirely platonic, but she was clearly having some fun playing coy with a reporter. We studied Shakespeare, she said. Dr. Waite played Romeo to My Juliet.

Did she read that play? I know, right? Well, it's appropriate because, you know, he's all about the poison and sedatives and stuff. I guess you're right. As we'll see a little later, Margaret Horton knew the value of getting her name in the papers. Her husband Harry backed her up entirely. Of course he knew about her study sessions with Dr. Waite, and of course they were entirely innocent. He was alone in his belief.

And when the papers reported his faith in his wife, his mailbox was soon full of letters. One which captured their general tone just read, open your eyes, you boob. We need to bring back boob as an insult. I really like a boob, you freaking boob. That's really great. I vote we bring back boob. In fact, it seems likely that Harry's eyes were wide open.

In January of 1915, he filed for bankruptcy. In December, shortly after Margaret met Arthur Waite, Harry's debts were cleared after he and Margaret received $8,000 ostensibly from a Mexican wire transfer that they were never quite able to explain. But this was almost certainly a gift from Arthur Waite to Margaret, using money he stole from Aunt Catherine. Harry stuck to his guns, painting Margaret as a naive country girl, saying, in a great many respects, as anyone who knows her will agree, she's about 15 years old in her knowledge of worldly things, which is kind of a creepy thing for an older husband to say about his much younger wife,

and it didn't stand up to the least little bit of scrutiny. For one thing, Cincinnati was one of the biggest cities in the country, hardly out in the backwoods, and it was obvious to the journalists who interviewed them that Margaret was the smarter and savvier of the two. She'd also had a life before Harry Horton. Back in Cincinnati, Margaret had once rented a room in the house of Paul Held and his wife.

Men flock to see Oetila, held, told the press. Finally, my wife began to love Oetila more than she did me. She sued me for divorce. The girl skipped out before the case was tried, but my wife got the divorce. Oetila came back and lived with my wife for a year and a half. Now remember, Oteila is Margaret. Wow. Okay.

I didn't see a lesbian left triangle coming, you know, in this case. Now, we don't know anything about Heldon his wife, like how old they were. Margaret was a teenager at the time. But because of this shape of the weight case, this was represented as her. being an irresistible seductress, not like this dude's wife sounds kind of creepy. Anyway, it was hard to paint Margaret with her flock of men and her extended lady roommate situation as an innocent little waif. The district attorney set investigators to look into Arthur Waite's past. While studying dentistry at the University of Michigan, he'd repeatedly stolen cash from fraternity brothers, as well as gold intended for dental work.

He stole the dental gold, this guy. Such a little shit. He also plagiarized other students, but managed to avoid any serious consequences thanks to his charm and his smile. Gross. There was a dental company, Wellman and Bridgman, that liked to hire graduates from Michigan for their practice in Cape Town, South Africa. They had a standardized procedure for new dentists, requiring them to take a two-year postgraduate course at the University of Glasgow in Scotland. That sounded kind of boring to Arthur, so he just altered his academic record to show he'd already done extensive post-grad work and left Glasgow after two months. From the parents behind law and order comes a mystery the whole family can enjoy.

Patrick Pickle Bottom Everyday Mysteries. Step into the whimsical world of Patrick Picklebottom, a precocious 11-year-old with a love for reading and an uncanny ability to solve mysteries. Inspired by the beloved children's book of the same name, this podcast vividly brings Patrick's tales of deduction and everyday adventures to life as he unravels baffling enigmas and solves clever cases. Patrick Picklebottom Everyday Mysteries is perfect for kids and is just as entertaining for grownups who love a good mystery. The whole family can listen now wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Whitney and I'm Katie. And we're the hosts of True Crime Campfire. We set out to make a true crime podcast we'd want to listen to. We get right to the story. We don't do a lot of

of extra talk in, and when we do, it's usually to roast the short hairs off of some loser, murderer, or scammer. You laugh, but only at the people who deserve it. Like, which serial killer would you most like to shove into a locker? B.T.K. in his awful poetry. Dude got caught because he didn't understand what a floppy disk was. We look for the stranger than fiction stories, like the case of Patty James, a killer catfish before the internet was even a thing. Or Howard Walmsley, a sentient wad of damp laundry, who convinced his town he'd won the lottery. fleeced local businesses out of thousands and then became a romance scammer. We've covered tons of cases you've never heard of, cults, scammers, killers.

So come find your next great binge. Listen to True Crime Campfire on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Friday. In South Africa, he had a fiancé, but no one seemed to know if they'd actually gotten married or not. Regardless, in December of 1914, with World War I growling into full life and Wellman and Bridgman about to fire him for stealing more dental gold, he skipped out on both his career and his fiancé, or possibly wife, and headed back to the States, whereas the DA's investigator put it, he started heiress hunting. It's a popular sport, I hear. He reconnected with Clara Peck

shortly afterwards. The investigators interviewed the wait's maid, Dora Hillier, who provided vital evidence in the growing murder case against Arthur. You know the maid always knows every Everything. Everything. While John Peck had been staying with them, Dora had made dinner, starting with soup. With the plates on the tray, Arthur had come into the kitchen and poured something from a vial into one of them. This is some medicine for father, he said. Then a second later, Dora, you taste that soup and see whether it's too hot or not.

We can't give it to him too hot because his mouth is sore. He was testing whether the doctored soup tasted strange. It did not. Dora didn't get sick, fortunately, but then she only took a little sip. He was perfectly willing to risk that, obviously. A little later, she was making tea when Arthur came in again and poured some more stuff from the vial into John's cup. Father didn't like his soup, he said, so I'll have to put some more medicine in his tea. This was enough.

A detective was sent to arrest Arthur at his apartment. But when he got there, he found Arthur's semi-conscious on his bed, a doctor and Arthur's brother's beside him. He'd taken an overdose of the sedatives he'd had Margaret buy for him, although it's not clear if this was actually a suicide attempt or just the result of stupidity. Waite had told his brother, I had to get some sleep. The authorities let Wait stay in his apartment under guard. His parents caught the train from Grand Rapids, and Clara sent a letter to Arthur's dad, and we should note that the Margaret Horton story hadn't printed yet. Father, tell my darling husband that I love him with all my heart. Tell him, I want to come to him, to be with him, to

cheer him, to comfort him, in his great trouble. It continued in that vein ending, I love him, oh, ever so much. Ugh, girl. Yeah, well, that affection would not last long. Thank God. Investigators got access to Arthur's safety deposit box. There was a stack of correspondence with women, mostly showgirls, and paperwork from December through March, 1916, showing that weight had posed as a research scientist to purchase several samples of dangerous bacteria. The last such purchase had been just days before John Peck's death. They were also able to trace his purchase of arsenic. He'd needed a prescription for that, but the doctor friend had written that up for him after Waite said he wanted to use it to kill some stray cats.

Oh, you sick. He just gets more charming, doesn't he? It's if we didn't hate his ass enough already. A detective visited Waite's bedroom and laid out the evidence against him, then asked if Waite wanted to talk to the district attorney. Yes, I'll see him, Wait said Weekly. He's been very decent to me. But the DA didn't get the confession he wanted. Wait admitted to buying the arsenic, but said he'd handed it over to John Peck, who was deeply depressed over his wife's recent death and wanted to end his own life.

Wade had handed the packet of arsenic to John, but had no idea if he'd take it. taken it. As if anybody's going to use arsenic for suicide, it's one of the worst ways to die. I mean, seriously. It's not unheard of. People have done some weird shit, but it's super unlikely. After the frustrated DA left, Waite called Raymond Schindler to his bedside. Schindler, remember, had been hired to investigate Waite. He was not his friend. Nevertheless, Arthur asked him for a favor. Would you do something for me? Would you see Dora Hillier and get her to say she saw me hand the package to the old man? She would not do that, Schindler said. She would if she were paid, Arthur said. I'd pay her $1,000. And he wrote out of money order for that amount, signed it and handed it to Schindler,

who, of course, hurried to catch up with D.A. Swan and give him this new scrap of evidence. To prevent further efforts to weasel out of a conviction, Arthur was moved to a secure ward at Bellevue Hospital. I wish he'd given that check to the maid first, you know. I know. It's the least she deserves. I know, right? The next day, Clara Waite's world turned upside down when the whole front page of the Grand Rapids Herald newspaper covered the murder case under the headline, Woman of Mystery in Life of Dr. Waite tells story of her affair. with dentist.

The story also featured Waite's partial confession and his attempt to bribe a witness, but the Herald knew what their readers wanted and concentrated on the sexy stuff. Writer Marie Diller wrote about Arthur Waite's gaze, They're the eyes that cause the feminine heart to flutter. They are compelling, irresistible, masterful, and yet tender. In the radius of their beams, women forget to question the unreasonableness of the claims of the man accused of murder. All things are reasonable when accompanied by the flash of his glorious orbs. Sorry, I just said. He won the world with the wonder of his smile and held it with his eyes.

Marie, God dang, keep it in your pants. My, such purple prose in a newspaper article. That is wild. As you can imagine, all this was not a whole lot of fun for Clara to read. Oh, my God, can you imagine? We've covered several cases before where someone will stand by and accuse spouse right up to the point where they discover that said spouse had replaced their belt with a yo-yo. And that was the case with Clara. She was furious, heartbroken, and humiliated. I hate him, she said. I want to see him punish.

There you go. That's my girl. He took me from my mother and my father, and they say he planned to kill me. I believe them. It's terrible. By the way, our main source for this case was the excellent book Poisoning the Pecks by Tobin Buk, who found quotes like this in contemporary newspapers. Clara immediately started arrangements to change her will and cut Arthur off from the peck fortune entirely,

but she fell ill from the stress and had to go to bed. There, she took off her three-carat diamond wedding ring. Arthur had told her the stone had come from the diamond mine he owned in South Africa, but Clara now doubted that was true, and it wasn't. She also started to wonder about her illness. She'd been sick all winter. It had felt like a cold that never ended, and she'd just felt worse when spring came around.

She'd put it down to stress and grief, but now she called Dr. Shirts and asked him to run some tests on her blood. The results horrified the doctor. The tests showed that Clara's blood contained both typhus and anthrax. He sent her to a sanatorium in Indiana to recoverer where Clara had a sudden revelation about how her husband might have infected both her and her parents with the bacteria. Yikes, anthrax.

When Hannah and John Peck visited them in New York, Arthur had made a point of taking the family out for frequent drives in his car. When he got up to a decent speed, he'd pull down the windshield, letting cold air rush over everyone, which he said was healthy. Then, when they got home, Waite said he had access to the latest in medical technology to prevent them all from catching colds, so every other. night he sprayed their nostrils and throats from two atomizers, keeping one in the fridge and one on his windowsill. This investigators came to believe was his first attempt to murder

their pecks by infecting them with deadly bacteria. And it would have worked, except he was an incompetent scientist and almost all the bacteria in the atomizers had died. Arthur's brother Frank tried to convince him to confess so that he might avoid the electric chair in Sing Sing. And Arthur did confess to Frank, weepingly telling him how he'd poisoned John Peck with arsenic, but when that took too long, he'd just used a pillow and a rag soaked with chloroform to kill him outright. And he'd repeatedly spiked Hannapec's food with bacteria, which had surely killed her. But by the time Frank had brought the district attorney and investigators to hear this confession, Arthur had acquired an attorney who interrupted every time Arthur got close to something incriminating.

I would assume the attorney had also told Arthur that their best bet would be an insanity defense, which Arthur decided to run with as hard as he could. He said, Another man or spirit at times occupies my body and makes me two personalities, one good and the other bad. I was powerless against him. When I felt him take hold of me, I knew I was gone. Hebei. The district attorney said, Doctor, can't you tell us where this man or spirit comes from? No, I can't judge, Wait, said. But, doctor, this man has been with you so. much and you've talked with him so much. Can't you give us any idea where he comes from? It must be from Egypt, Wait, said. Yes, sir. It's an Egyptian spirit, for he's always talking about

Egypt and Egyptian things. I'm sorry, what? This guy. An Egyptian spirit. One of the detectives trying to be funny said, you mean Egypt, Missouri, right? No, I mean. I mean. Egypt Africa, Wait said. It was with me when I procured the germs that I administered to Mrs. Peck. It was not I who killed my mother-in-law, but the bad part of me. This Egyptian spirit who killed her through me, he did it, the bad man, the man from Egypt. I was afraid of him. He made me do terrible things. Sometimes when I felt him after me, I would run away. I ran into the park once and tried to get away from him there, but he caught me. I told Clara about it. It was only last night the good man came back. So I'd like to go now. Because, you know, the good man's back in charge. It's all fine.

Oh, it's fine. I'm good. I'm good now. We're fine. Also, like, if just, like, talking about Egypt and Egyptian things is all it takes to, like, have two different personalities, like, middle school Katie would like a word, you know? I know. I'd be so. I was obsessed. I was. I was, obsessed with like gyptology. This was the worst attempt at faking mentalness that anyone in the room had ever seen. Arthur's lawyer looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. D.A. Swan kept Arthur talking with Margaret Horton in mind. Did weight have any accomplices? Only Cain, who embalmed Mr. Peck's body, Arthur said. And of course, that bad man from

Egypt inside me whom I was unable to control. He's got to keep bringing it up. Like, he's got to keep it front of mind. Even back then, you got to blame a brown person somehow. Yeah, right? Like, those, those, like, I don't, it's just crazy. Like, yeah, they'll, they'll for sure believe me if I, if I bring racism into it, right? Even a spirit, like a spirit brown person.

Not even a corporeal brown person. It was the brown part of me that did this. Jesus. So random. That line, I told Clara about it, was easy enough to check, and Clara sent an icy message to New York. He said no word to me about such a condition. This evil personality has been conjured up since his arrest, and the man from Egypt is a rank myth. This is Arthur's attempt to free himself, but I will never help him in it.

He murdered my mother. I know he did it intentionally. He had planned it all, and he made his plans when he was in possession of every fact. faculty. Boom. Damn, Clara. Eugene Kane, at least initially, was harder to track down. He seemed to have vanished, but on March 30th, spooked by the manhunt for him, the undertaker turned himself in, but would only talk if given immunity. He described the bribe Arthur had shoved into his pocket, but hadn't known how much it was until he got home and started counting it.

It was so much that he got scared, quit counting, and buried the the cash inside a can on a Long Island beach. The investigators thought this buried treasure would be conveniently impossible to find, but no, Kane was able to take them right to the spot, and a detective dug up the can of cash, but not all of the cash. It was $1,200 short of the amount weight claimed to have given Kane. My man, you're shy, the detective said. How do I know it shy, Kane said, all innocence? I never counted it. Maybe the may be made. Maybe the man. You're shy. The detective said, the detective said, innocence. I never counted it. Maybe the man from

Egypt took it, the detective said. Maybe the man from Egypt took it. Oh my God, so funny. Arthur's confession had been intended to win him a plea deal, but his Egyptian play acting had put the kibosh on that. He was going to go to trial. While he waited, Margaret Horton

struck while the iron was hot, taken up vaudeville and appearing in front of packed crowds of thousands at Lowe's American Music Hall, with the marquee outside advertising the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Margaret Horton of the wait case. God Almighty. Now that is a lady who knows out a clout farm. Damn. And of course, the crowds couldn't get enough, but the theater critic of the New York dramatic mirror described her performance as being without expression in a strong but uncertain voice. Ouch. The time before the

trial allowed more investigation of Arthur, which uncovered affairs with a dozen other women before and after his marriage to Clara. Almost all of them were wealthy, and a little less wealthy after their involvement with Arthur Wade, who was now dubbed a love pirate. Arr. The law moved faster in 1916 than it does now. Arthur Waite's trial for the murder of John Peck began on May 22nd, less than two months after his arrest. It was a huge media event, often knocking the war off the front pages and the press got what they wanted, with Arthur, Clara, and Margaret all testifying. But there really wasn't much doubt about the outcome. Arthur took a long-shot gamble on the insanity defense, openly, even cheerfully, describing his murders of Hannah and John Peck

and his attempts to kill both Clara and her Aunt Catherine. He said he tried to kill Catherine by putting ground glass in her marmalade, and by infecting some canned fish with bacteria he'd cultured from human feces, but she hadn't eaten enough of either. The defense's argument here was that Arthur was a moral imbecile. That's a quote, approximately what we'd call a psychopath, and so not responsible for his actions. Both the defense and prosecution called psychiatrist to testify as expert witnesses, and Arthur's attorney finished his summation by saying, would you have it upon your conscience to send an

idiot to the chair, a person without understanding whatsoever, a lunatic, a child of tender years? I think not. But he was wrong. The jury deliberated for all of 83 minutes, which included stopping for lunch and came back with their verdict. Arthur was guilty. He's an immoral imbecile, and he's guilty or not but her chit. One week later, he was sentenced to death by electrocution. Yikes. And back then, death sentences tended to be carried out quick. Waite spent the year between sentencing and execution discovering religion, writing awful poetry and reading the hundreds of letters he received from female admirers. Hebristophilia ain't anything new, folks.

We have it here with Arthur Waite, and we have it today with Chris Watts. People are frickin' weirdos. On May 24, 1917, 2,000 volts ended Arthur Waite's life. Clara Peck had divorced Arthur about as quickly as humanly possible, and in 1920 moved to Pasadena and married her childhood sweetheart, and as far as we can tell, lived a long and happy life. Margaret Horton's Broadway career was bright but brief, and as soon as public interest in the weight case waned, she faded into obscurity. And all of this started with a single telegram. Somebody saw something and said something, and a murderer was stopped in his tracks before he could kill anybody else. It's a refreshing change for us, isn't it, after seeing so many cases where people knew a murder was coming and chose to just make it none of their business.

I think more than anything else, this case proves that human nature doesn't change a whole lot. If you just change the clothes and the sets and a few of the little minor details, this case could have happened last year. You'd think we'd grow and change a little better than this, you know, as a species, but no such luck. So be careful out there, folks. As always, try not to be blinded by you. charm. And for the love of all that is holy, when those red flags start flying, get the hell out of there. Now, before we go, don't forget about our two amazing live shows coming up. First, we've got summer camp, September 10th through 13th, a four-day festival in Equinunk, Pennsylvania, hosted by Dan and

Lindsay Cummins of Time Suck and Scared to Death, too, it's like just the best podcast out there. We'll be performing live alongside them and the podcast astonishing legends, in addition to a roster of awesome stand-up comedians and local bands. It is going to be so much fun. I am going to go kayaking. I am so excited. Go to bad magic productions.com for more info and to buy tickets. Then we've got our true crime cruise, Crime Wave 2.0, February 8th through 12th, 2027. If you want to come to the Bahamas with us and some of the biggest true crime and paranormal podcasts in the world, like last podcast on the left, case file, true crime garage, sinisterhood, here's what you got to do. Tickets are on sale. Tickets are on sale.

now, but they're 90% sold out at this point. So if you want to go, you got to get on it. Get over to crimewave at sea.com slash campfire and book your cabin ASAP. You'll get $100 off, plus a private meet and greet with us. The great thing is you can pay all at once or set up a payment plan and pay it off over time. So get on it, y'all. That's crimewave atc.com slash campfire. So that was a wild one, right, campers? You know, we'll have another one for you next week. But for now, lock your doors, light your lights, and stay safe until we get together again around the true crime campfire. And as always, we want to send a grateful shout out to a few of our lovely Patreon supporters. Thank you so much to Taylor, Karen, Lacey, Junan, I hope I didn't butcher that if I did let me know and I'll fix it.

And Rosebud Buffalo. I love that. We appreciate y'all to the moon and back. And if you're not yet a patron, you are missing out. Patrons of our show get every episode ad-free, at least a day early, some of the time. times more, plus tons of extra content, like patrons-only episodes and hilarious post-show discussions. I just posted a fun thing where I did one creepy story and one funny story. Super fun. And when you join the $5.00 and up categories, you get even more cool stuff. A free sticker, a rat enamel pin, or fridge magnet while supplies last virtual events with Katie and me, and we're always looking

for new stuff to do for you. So if you can, come join us at patreon.com slash true crime campfire. reality TV is messy pop culture is louder than ever and the internet completely unhinged welcome to roxanne and chentel the podcast where cousins roxanne and chantel break down reality tv celebrity drama and the stories everyone's texting about we recap the shows spill the headlines and sit down with the stars themselves no filter no boring takes just the tea new episodes every week if it's trending we're talking about it This is Roxanne. And Chintot. Let's get into it.

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