Wary, investigators nonetheless agreed that a second witness would probably seal Anderson’s fate.
“There is a second witness,” Penney volunteered. “Raymond Baxter. He helped me plan the caper.”
Raymond Baxter was also well known to Lexington authorities. A confessed drug addict, he had been arrested on several occasions. Over the years he had lived hand-to-mouth, shifting from one menial job to another until two years ago, when he found a permanent niche—greenskeeper at the Lexington Country Club. He had been hired by Elsie Miley who, to the consternation of her friends, welcomed the pitiable Baxter like a son.
Arrested within the hour, Baxter confessed to taking part in the crime. Asked if Bob Anderson had been involved, Baxter wavered. Pressed, he finally asked, “What did Tom say?”
“He fingered Anderson,” police replied.
“Yeah? Well, sure, Bob was in on it, too.”
Cooperative to a fault, Penney led police to Fontaine Ferry Park in Louisville, where, from beneath a shrub he pointed out, they dug up a sack in which Mrs. Miley kept club receipts. In the sack were two pistols, one a .32-caliber, the other a .38. Ballistics tests revealed that the two bullets that killed Marion Miley and the three that killed her mother had all been fired from the same gun—the .32 pistol.
With two witnesses against him, Anderson was indicted along with Penney and Baxter for first-degree murder.
At Anderson’s trial, Penney turned state’s evidence. He testified that he and Baxter planned the robbery one evening at a night club near Lexington. Baxter had mentioned the large amount of money that Mrs. Miley took in each week at the Lexington Country Club. He said the money was stored downstairs over the weekend in an unguarded cash box. The pickings were too easy to pass up, Penney testified. He offered Baxter a share of the loot if he would simply leave the club house door unlocked one night. Baxter agreed.
The following day, Penney testified, he hitchhiked to Louisville and went to The Cat and Fiddle at 1901 West Main Street. He’d done business with the owner, Bob Anderson, before. He drank a few beers, then mentioned the Lexington caper to Anderson. “It’d be worth ten, maybe fifteen grand.”
Anderson was excited about the idea, Penny testified. The nightclub owner demanded to be cut in on the deal. “Next Saturday night I hitchhiked back to Louisville and waited on a side street until Bob picked me up.”
Prosecuting Attorney Jim Park, a tall, esteemed Kentucky attorney with a reputation for being scrupulously fair, questioned Penney about the events of that night.
“What time was the pick up?”
“Eleven o’clock,” Penney replied.
“In the 1941 Buick?”
“Yes.”
They drove to Lexington, Penney continued, where they marked time at a local bar. Shortly after 2:00 A.M. they left the bar and drove out Paris Pike to the Country Club.
“Bob was driving?” Park asked.
“Yes,” Penny replied.
As they approached the gates, Penny said, Bob turned off the lights and drove onto the grounds. There were two cars parked in front of the darkened clubhouse. He and Bob discussed the two cars, Penny said, and finally decided that they both belonged to Mrs. Miley.
They parked beside the two cars, tied handkerchiefs to their faces, and pulled on gloves. They went to the door that Baxter had agreed to leave open. It was locked.
The locked door infuriated Anderson, Penny testified. Bob cursed and threatened to “get Baxter” for the oversight. They went around to the side of the building, where Anderson jimmied a basement window, Penny said. He crawled in, then unlocked the kitchen door and let Anderson in. They located the main power switch, turned off all the power, then, working with flashlights, located the clubhouse office and the cash box. The box was empty.
“This time, Bob went into a real rage,” Penny said. “He tore that office to shreds trying to find where the old woman had hidden the money.”
Unsuccessful, Anderson threw the bolt to the front door, Penney said, ran to the car, and returned with two pistols. He handed one of the guns to Penney, then grabbed an iron counterweight lying loose beneath one of the windows. Anderson rushed up the stairs and Penny followed, knocking over a floor lamp at the head of the landing. When they reached the apartment door, it was locked.
“Bob began beating the door with the iron bar. When it splintered open, there was a woman standing just inside in her nightgown. Bob grabbed her and demanded to know where the money was hidden. Before she could answer . . . he shot her.”
Just at that moment, Penney testified, someone grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. A fist slammed into his face and he fell to the floor.
Stunned, Penney said he glanced up to see Anderson shoot the unexpected second person, a younger woman, in the back. The young woman took a single step toward Anderson, then collapsed. “Bob reached down and shot her in the top of the head.”
The older woman, who had watched her daughter being shot, was still alive. “Bob began to pistol-whip her, demanding money. She pleaded with him to stop. She said all the money she had was in a sack in her dresser.”
Anderson kicked the woman back to her bedroom, Penney said, then ransacked the dresser until he found the sack.
“How much money did it contain?” the prosecutor asked.
“A hundred and forty dollars,” Penney replied.
They tore the place apart, Penney said, but didn’t find another cent.
The older woman had collapsed and didn’t seem to be breathing. Convinced that both women were dead, Penney testified, he and Anderson fled the clubhouse.
“Bob ordered me to drive. When we got to the gate we spotted another car pulling out of the club driveway just ahead of us. Bob began to cuss. He was afraid the driver might have spotted the Buick. We drove back to Louisville and buried the sack and the guns in the park. Then Bob gave me some money and told me to high-tail it out of the state with the car.”
“Where did you go?” the prosecutor asked.
“Florida,” Penney replied. Then, after a couple of days, he headed for Texas. He didn’t know that the day he left Louisville, Anderson reported his car stolen.
On October 9 Penney was captured in Fort Worth.
It was damning testimony and the prosecuting attorney was determined to set the most damaging points in the juror’s minds.
He asked, “Once again, who was armed with the thirty-two pistol?”
“Anderson,” Penney replied.
“He shot the two women?”
“Yes.”
“Why did he begin shooting?”
“To keep the old woman from screaming.”
The prosecution rested.
Unlike Penney and Baxter, whose indigence compelled them to trust their fates to court-appointed attorneys, Anderson hired one of the most prestigious legal firms in Louisville. To discredit the state’s star witness, Anderson’s attorneys laid Penney’s sordid history of arrests, convictions, and tainted prison record before the jury. Then they turned to a specific attack on his testimony.
Defense: Why did you say in Fort Worth that Anderson was your only accomplice, then once back in Lexington change your story and say that Baxter was your accomplice?
Penney: Baxter was an accomplice.
Defense: Isn’t it true that Baxter was your only accomplice?
Penney: