But I'm really dreadfully worried about chick.

Trim red-haired Mrs. Florence May Randall protested.

You don't know my husband's ways.

He wouldn't stay away like this.

Chief of police Fred Swanson sought to calm Mrs. Randall's ways. He wouldn't stay away like this. Chief of police Fred Swanson sought to calm Mrs.

Randall's fears. As the head of law enforcement in Harvey's Lake, Pennsylvania, a summer resort

frequented by the more prosperous folk of Scranton and Wilkesbury, Swanson thought he knew

a thing or two about husbands and wives.

But it's strange he didn't come right back. He started somewhere up the lake this morning to buy another boat.

He had $50 in his wallet. Here it is afternoon and he's not back.

He'd certainly be here now, if nothing had happened, because it's Memorial Day and the

opening day of our season, Mrs. Randall insisted. Swanson smiled wisely, and once more sought to

reassure her that there was no real cause for worry. But when night fell over the little cottages lining Harvey's Lake on that

decoration day, 1945, and Mrs. Randall said she still had no news of her husband, the

police chief informed the Pennsylvania State Police of Randall's disappearance. ... True Crime Historian presents yesterday's news, classic tales of the scandals, scoundrels, and scourges told from historic newspapers in the golden age

of yellow journalism. Episode 335 tells of another scandalous eternal triangle that ends in murder.

The victim this time is the husband, and both his comely wife and the illiterate man who cuckled at him go on trial for

his murder. I'm true crime historian Richard O. Jones and for your scandalization and indignation,

I give you the Sugar Hollow Memorial Day murder, the lumberjack and the boatman's wife.

June 1, 1945.

Shot seven times in the back, and with its face buried deep in the mud, apparently from a severe blow on the back of the

head. The body of Charles Randall, 37, familiar Harvey's Lake Boat concessionaire, was found last night

...