Spine-Chilling Murders in Illinois is a collection of true-life stories, most of which were rescued from old newspaper accounts published over 100 years ago. Few events in this book have made it into print, except maybe in musky-old county histories. Even then, they are lucky to rate a paragraph. Burglars killed Chicago millionaire Amos Snell during a home invasion in 1888. The investigation took detectives on a winding course across the country, but the killer was never found. Finally, twenty-five years later, a deathbed confession showed the police had the killer in their hands just days after the murder. But unfortunately, they let him go due to a lack of evidence. H. H. Holmes murdered as many twenty-seven people during his fifteen-year crime spree. Holmes's base of operations was his murder castle in Elgin, Illinois. Most of his victims died so Holmes could collect the insurance policies he took on their lives. The others were sold to body snatchers for $25 to $55 per head. The car barn bandits were every Chicagoan's worst nightmare-four bored boys, armed and out for thrills, let the consequences be damned. They killed eight men in less than a year and injured almost a dozen more. After Gustave Marx's capture, the gang leader told reporters: "There are too damn many people walking around town. They ought to be glad to be put out of their misery." Johann Hoch, the Chicago Bluebeard, married as many as fifty women in the ten years between 1895 and 1905. Most times, he took their money and disappeared. Unfortunately, at least nine of Hoch's wives died shortly after marrying him. Later, when asked what all his wives died from, Hoch chuckled and said, "kidney problems, I suppose. "Ask the doctors. They know better than I do." The Cambridge Curse defied explanation. During the three years between 1905 and 1908, Henry County experienced ten murders, five suicides, two attempted suicides, and a bank robbery. The statistics were totally out of whack for a community of 1500. Chicago Tribune crime reporter Jake Lingle was gunned down in cold blood in a city subway station on June 9, 1930. At first, the city mourned his passing as a martyr in the fight against crime. But, before the month was out, evidence surfaced that Lingle was in deep with the city's mobsters. He was a personal friend of Al Capone and worked as a go-between for the gangsters and police. Of course, there's more, but you get the idea. Illinois was a dangerous place at the turn of the century. Read them if you dare.