Actress. Dorothy "Dot" King (née Keenan) she was born Anna Marie Keenan and grew up in the poverty of a first-generation Irish immigrant family in the slums of Harlem, but managed to put her petite figure and natural beauty to work as a model in the haute couture shops of Manhattan. It was there that she began to meet the Broadway scions and the upper crust of New York society. She may have been acquainted with Arnold Rothstein — they shared some mutual friends. She had been married once to a chauffeur, and it was from him that she first gained entree into that peculiar culture of Manhattan that was an amalgam of old money, noveau riche, and the new guys on the scene: the bootleggers and racketeers. The marriage ended in divorce after Dot's husband — by her own admission — caught her cheating. She appeared in only one Broadway production, "Broadway Brevities of 1920," which played at the Winter Garden Theatre for 105 performances in Autumn and Winter 1920. Also in the cast was a young man on the cusp of superstardom, Eddie Cantor. While her hardworking family believed she was working as a model and was an aspiring Broadway actress, Dot had actually left both modeling and Broadway behind in favor of a career as an honest-to-goodness vamp. Dot found more success amid the candlelight of her boudoir than among the limelight of Broadway. Described in the press of the day as "a lady with more charm than virtue," Dot became a popular feature of the New York social scene — particularly the nightclubs and speakeasies. There she met a number of wealthy and powerful men, including the son of President Warren Harding's Attorney General, and formed a special relationship with the millionaire son-in-law of one of the wealthiest men in America, Edward T. Stotesbury. She also made the acquaintance of a well-to-do Puerto Rican steel magnate named Albert Guimares, who would eventually loot his company and resort to stock fraud to keep up with his richer fellow contestants for Dot's affections. Stotesbury's son-in-law, J. Kearsley Mitchell, was the man Dot dubbed her sugar daddy, and he set the pace for all sugar daddies who would follow. He set Dot up in a small, but luxurious apartment at 144 West 57th Street in New York City within spitting distance of Central Park and Carnegie Hall. He showered her with jewels, furs, and other clothes, and although they were never seen together in public, he was a frequent visitor to the apartment. It would never do for Mitchell, who was past 50, to be seen in the company of the 20-something Dot, because not only was he well-known as a financial leader on the East Coast, he was also quite married. Blackmail was a popular pastime in those days, and Mitchell took pains to protect himself from anyone who sought to use his relationship with Dot for their own pecuniary gain. He was, however, not totally discrete. He frequently wrote affectionate letters to Dot, which she kept in the apartment. Whether she wrote back is a mystery. Despite his indiscretion in writing to Dot, whenever Mitchell, who used the nom d'amour "Mr. Marshall," visited the girl, he was always accompanied by his attorney, John H. Jackson, who was referred to as "Mr. Wilson." Typically, after scoping out the lobby of the apartment, Jackson would signal to Mitchell that the coast was clear. Together they would ride up to the fourth floor, where Dot kept her apartment. Jackson would join the couple for a drink or two and then take his leave. Mitchell and Dot would do whatever they did in private, and then Mitchell would leave after a few hours. The elevator attendant told the press after the murder that Mitchell always tipped well to ensure the elevator picked up no other passengers while he rode. Mitchell and Guimares were the only men who were allowed to visit Dot's apartment. While Mitchell gave her gifts, Guimares gave her bruises and black eyes. Despite his violence — he was apparently a jealous lover — Guimares was a welcome visitor to the love nest. March 14, 1923, was just like most other days in the life of Dorothy Keenan King. According to her maid, she greeted Mitchell for a luncheon rendezvous. Mitchell, who was as usual joined by Jackson, presented Dorothy with a bouquet of orchids. Wrapped around the stems of the flowers was a diamond and jade bracelet. (It was just one of a number of baubles Mitchell had presented to her over their relationship. Over time, it is estimated that Mitchell and her other lovers had given her at least $15,000 in jewelry. In today's money, not accounting for any fluctuations in the market that would probably make the jewels worth even more, Dot received jewels worth almost a quarter-million dollars.) The maid and Jackson left, and after spending the early evening alone, the couple left by the elevator, returning around midnight. A couple of hours later, Mitchell left by himself. The lift operator confirmed that Mitchell departed around 2:30 a.m. No one else was seen entering Dot's apartment, but it wasn't necessary to use the elevator or even the main stairway to get to the flat. Apartments on the fourth and fifth stories had access to a private staircase that allowed residents and their guests to leave by a side entrance. Between 2:30 and 11 a.m. March 15, someone entered the apartment while Dot was there alone. When her maid arrived for work the next morning, she let herself in. It wasn't unusual for Dot to be in bed at that late hour, because it was from the crowd that she ran with that New York became known as the City That Never Sleeps. However, when the maid went in to wake her mistress, she found Dot dead in her bed, clad only in a silky blue negligee. The apartment was a mess. Pictures were thrown about the room, and it appeared to the maid that the apartment had been ransacked as if someone was searching for something. At first, the investigators thought Dot had killed herself, simply because there were no apparent signs of a struggle. The apartment was messy, but at first glance, nothing indicated that a homicide had occurred. When the police surgeon arrived, however, he quickly ruled out that conjecture. Her body was found in an unnatural position, with her legs curled beneath her. There were bruises around her neck, which led authorities to believe she had been strangled. The time of death was estimated at somewhere after 6 a.m based on her body temperature and rigor mortis. A search of the bedclothes uncovered the actual murder weapon, a bottle of chloroform. There was no cotton or gauze that Dot could have used to overdose on the chemical. Further, it is almost impossible to use chloroform to commit suicide. The drug requires small, regular doses administered over time just to achieve unconsciousness. The harshness of the gas also prevents a person from smothering themselves with a deep breath. The maid discovered two important clues, although neither would provide the identity of her killer or killers: the $15,000 in jewelry was missing, as were all of the letters Mitchell had written his paramour. It was either a case of blackmail or robbery, police guessed. When news of Dot's murder became public, Mitchell immediately presented himself to police for questioning and was cleared because he could provide an alibi.