The murders of Dorothy King and Louise Lawson in the early 1920s are dubbed “the Butterfly Murders” because the victims were beautiful young women drawn to the lure of the bright lights of Broadway like insects to a flame (somehow “the Moth Murders” of Broadway doesn’t have the same cachet).
The similarities in their deaths lead many people to believe that the murders were somehow linked. Each of the women came from humble beginnings and found moderate success in New York theater, where they were both introduced to rich and powerful men who were interested in talents other than their acting ability. What definitely ties them together is that more than 80 years after they occurred, neither crime has been solved.
There are theories in each case, and a strong indication of the identity of the man responsible for Dorothy’s slaying, but no one was ever prosecuted. A robbery motive explains why Lou Lawson was killed, but no arrests were made in her case.

The Dorothy King Murder

It was in March 1923 that the term “sugar daddy” first entered the American lexicon thanks to a murder in high society New York that remains unsolved to this day.
Dorothy “Dot” King (née Keenan) 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.
Dot had grown up in the poverty of a first-generation Irish immigrant family in the slums of Harlem, but managed to put her petite figure and timeless 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 mobsters.
The marriage ended in divorce after Dot’s husband — by her own admission — caught her cheating.
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 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 pace 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 would do whatever he and Dot did in private, and then leave after a few hours. The elevator attendant told the press after the murder that Mitchell always tipped well to ensure that 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, whom she referred to as her “sugar daddy,” 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.
The maid and Jackson left, and after spending the early evening alone with Dot, the couple left by the elevator, returning around midnight. A couple of hours later, Mitchell left by the elevator. 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. 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.
It wasn’t unusual for Dot to be sleeping 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.
At first, the investigators thought Dot had killed herself, simply because there was no apparent signs of a struggle. The apartment was messy, but at first glance, there were no outward indicators that a homicide had occurred.
When the police surgeon arrived, however, he quickly surmised that Dot had not committed suicide. 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.
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.
A friend of Dot’s told police that she had recently considered filing charges against Guimares because he had threatened her and had attempted to get her to participate in a blackmail scheme.
Guimares was quickly brought in for questioning and held on suspicion of murder. In the course of the police investigation of his activities, they would uncover a stock fraud scheme that he was promoting. Eventually, Guimares would plead guilty to fraud and serve a three-year federal prison term.
But as for Dot King’s murder, Guimares had an air-tight alibi. He produced two witnesses, Edmund McBrien and a woman who at the time was only identified as “an attractive blonde” who both swore Guimares was with them at the time Dot was murdered.
Although he was always suspected of at least participating in the crime, Guimares was not prosecuted.
For six years the case remained an open investigation that vexed police. It was not until the “attractive blonde” resurfaced that authorities got any new leads.
The blonde was Aurelia Fischer Dreyfus, who as Aurelia Fischer, McBrien’s girlfriend, testified before a grand jury that she was with Guimares that night.
In October 1929, Aurelia, who had been married and divorced since that night, was at a yacht club party in Washington, D.C. with McBrien. According to McBrien, she was intoxicated and he took her out on a balcony to get some fresh air. While McBrien went back inside for their coats, Aurelia either fell or jumped (or was pushed) from the balcony. Her injuries were fatal, but she was conscious when she was brought to a local hospital.
There, according to her mother and sister, she made a stunning confession before she succumbed to her injuries.
“I perjured myself in the Dot King murder,” she said, also implying that McBrien had pushed her from the balcony.
Despite her deathbed assertion, Aurelia’s statement was not enough to charge Guimares with Dot’s murder.
Next: The Murder of Louise Lawson