Word: coster
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...after McKesson & Robbins had shown a $600,000 profit under the Coster management, a syndicate of underwriters floated a $10,000,000 stock issue. With that money Coster began putting together a nationwide distributing organization under the name of McKesson & Robbins, Inc. Frank D. Coster became F. Donald Coster and moved to Fairfield, Connecticut, to live in smug respectability. Julian Thompson quit Bond & Goodwin to become treasurer of McKesson & Robbins...
...Treasurer Thompson appeared before New York's Assistant Attorney General Ambrose V. McCall to tell how his suspicions of the company's crude drug department, which reported profits yearly but always "plowed them back" into inventory had finally forced a showdown. Mr. McCall decided to arrest Messrs. Coster and Dietrich, who ran McKesson & Robbins' mysterious crude drug department...
...Fairfield home, where he was "ill," Mr. Coster was fingerprinted. "Testy," he grumbled at the proceedings. Twelve hours later the reason for his grousing became clear. Tipped off by a man who had once worked with Musica and recognized Coster's picture in the papers, Mr. McCall had matched Coster's fingerprints with Musica's and found them identical...
Newshawks, who had not had such a story in a coon's age, went to Brooklyn to call on a character named George Vernard, who had represented one of Coster's dummy agents and was also wanted by the police. They found a car being packed with luggage outside his door. Police arrived and arrested Mr. Vernard, who admitted that his real name was Arthur Musica. It then came out that George Dietrich was really George Musica and George's brother Robert, who also worked for McKesson & Robbins, was a fourth Musica brother, Robert, never before mentioned...
...Donald Coster read the story of his true identity in the morning papers. As two U. S. marshals drove up to his house, he gulped a drink of whiskey, locked himself in the bathroom, poked a revolver in his ear and pulled the trigger. The marshals found him in the bathtub with his feet sticking out. His wife, for whom he had named his yacht, was pacing the floor downstairs and wailing: "My God, Daddy...