Unsolved London Murders

by Jonathan Oates

  On the other hand, Samuel said, ‘I know of no reason, from a business point of view, why my brother should knowingly take anything which would be likely to cause his death.’ But he did not think it was murder, either, adding, ‘I have no reason to think that any person in the house would do him any harm’; and that his brother was ‘always a kind man to everybody’. Could Behr have taken the strychnine himself in order to stave off his health problems?

  Yet no one was ever formally accused of the murder, if murder it was. Whether his brother knew anything of the affair, his secrets, if any, went to the grave with him in 1942, when he was buried in the Jewish section of a London cemetery. He was certainly comfortably off, with a house on Finchley Road and another in Crowthorne, Berkshire. Behr might have taken his own life, might have taken the tablets by accident or might have been poisoned by either Annie or his wife, and of the two, the latter seems least unlikely. We will probably never know the truth of the matter.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Murder of a Shopkeeper, 1926

  I am afraid as I am being constantly watched

  Shopkeepers, like prostitutes, are often in a very vulnerable position as regards criminals. They have something the criminal wants – money – and are often alone in their shop and so are easy targets. Some were attacked and killed. The fictional Mrs Ascher of Andover in Agatha Christie’s The ABC Murders (1936) was one, as was Robert Venner in New Cross in 1934. And we have another.

  Edward Austin Creed managed a provision shop in Leinster Terrace, just off the Bayswater Road. Born in Brentwood, Essex, in 1881, he was employed by Messrs Philip Lowry and Co., cheesemongers and poulterers, and had been for over 20 years. It seems he was reasonably prudent, with £267 to his name in 1926. Creed was a busy man because he was also a special constable in Paddington. He had been a married man since 1908 and had two daughters. The family lived in Denbigh Terrace, Notting Hill. He seems to have been well respected by those who knew him, with one Mrs Escott saying, ‘He was liked by all. I have never heard him speak to anyone who bore him a grudge or was likely to do him an injury.’

  Shops in Leinster Road, 2008. Author’s collection

  As usual, on Wednesday 28 July 1926, the shop closed up at seven in the evening. Maude Rawlings, the book keeper, later recalled, ‘I did not notice anyone standing about in the vicinity of the shop when I left’. All the other members of staff left at that time, too. Only Creed and Alfred Leonard, a shop assistant, remained. Leonard prepared some warm water and found a towel for his boss to clean himself up, and then left the premises himself at ten past seven. Creed was not known to have ever entertained people at the shop in the evening. There was no reason why he should loiter there. At half past seven, William Cox, a fellow local grocer, was waiting to meet Creed as arranged. Creed did not arrive. Nor did he come home at the appointed time of eight, and the light in his shop was said to be still turned on at that time. By ten, Mrs Creed began to worry.

  At half past ten that night, PC Harry Watts was on his beat in that part of Bayswater. He noticed that the padlock on Creed’s shop was missing. Furthermore, there was light coming from a small window at the side. When he knocked on the door, no one answered. Watts could smell gas. With the help of another constable and two other men (John Forbes, a neighbour, and Albert Sykes, a postal worker), he forced the door and they saw the body of a man, lying on his back at the foot of the steps. It was Creed. Watts rang the police station. Inspector Jones arrived and reported:

  Upon our arrival at 11.30 pm, I saw two large patches of blood on the floor of the shop about four feet from the entrance. There were splashes of blood on the panels of a side counter on the right hand side of the shop.

  There were also marks on the sawdust on the floor, as if something or someone had been dragged along it. Smears of blood were found in the office. Creed had been killed by a blunt instrument between 7.10 pm and about 8 pm and his face and head were covered in blood. He was probably killed shortly after his staff left, because the wash bowl and towel that had been put before him had not been used. He was fully dressed, but was not wearing his jacket and was in his shirt sleeves.

  Another clue was a pair of men’s old buttonless slip-on chamois gloves. Both were left-handed. One had a gusset in the wrist and the other had a portion of the wrist cut off. Both were dirty and of low quality. There was also a brown coat button on the scene. Unfortunately, there was no trace of any fingerprints anywhere.

  Yet another clue lay in the fact that a man had paid for goods earlier that day with a £5 note – a very high denomination indeed and one rarely used to buy goods in a grocer’s shop. Given that money was missing from the shop, if the man who paid with this could come forward, he might be able to give the police the serial number of the note, which would help them to track it down and so find the killer. The man never came forward.

  The motive for the murder certainly appeared to be money. In total, £51 14s 8½d was missing from the drawers in the office. A few copper coins were found on the floor of the office. John Forbes declared:

  I do not know of any person who bore him a grudge, nor did he ever inform me of any person with whom he was on bad terms. He did, however, complain bitterly of the conduct of street hawkers in Leinster Terrace and the neighbourhood and I know that he, like myself, had remonstrated with them.

  Mrs Creed gave evidence about her husband’s concerns. He said that he had recently been asked by a former member of staff for a reference, but had refused him. She also referred to another former employee, who had been dismissed in May, because of his slovenly working habits. Her husband had recalled that he had not turned up for work during the General Strike earlier that month and he thought that the man had socialist sympathies, which Creed abhorred. However, Mrs Creed said that her husband did not fear this man. Neither man was ever named.

  Denbigh Terrace, 2008. Author’s collection

  Albert Sykes recalled seeing a young woman in the street, who asked him if she could have a look around inside the scene of the crime. He refused. She was about 22, with brown hair and a thin face. She told him, ‘I have seen two men on the roof about a quarter of an hour ago.’ Whether these were the attackers is another question.

  There was no shortage of possible leads from a variety of sources. On the afternoon of the day after the murder, two men were seen going into the Moseley Road Baths in Birmingham. Their clothes were dirty. When they left the baths, they were in different sets of clothes. They gave their old clothes to the attendant at the baths and told him to burn them. Examining them, the man found blood on the right leg of one of the trousers. Although this was suspicious, there is nothing to link these two men with the murder. The police tried to trace them, but without any success.

  There were other sources of possible assistance. These included two anonymous letters from the same hand. The first was postmarked Notting Hill, 8.30 pm, 4 August, was addressed to ‘Inspector’ Wensley at Scotland Yard and was marked ‘Important, urgent’:

  If you make the offer of a reward of £100 or more through the papers and promise me police protection I will tell you where to find and who the two murderers are in the shop murder case. If you keep to Notting Hill you are not far wrong. They know me so I am frightened to do anything but write.

  Two days later there was another missive from the same writer, to the same recipient, though he was then correctly titled Chief Constable (having been promoted since the Lechevalier case of 1924). It was labelled ‘Personal’ and read as follows:

  I shall try to see you on Sunday. I am afraid as I am being constantly watched, I think. I am afraid to go and get a stamp so must post this letter without. If I ring you up and give the name and address you will know who it is writing you.

  An appeal was put out in the press for the writer to come forward, but they never did. They were told that if they did not come to Scotland Yard by midday, 14 August, a specimen of the handwriting would be published in the press in the hope that someone would recogniz
e it. By 23 September, the writer, a woman, was identified, but her story lacked corroboration and it was thought that it was it was merely an attempt to have a certain male suspect convicted of the crime and he was already under suspicion. We do not know who this man was.

  Another anonymous letter, which was so vague as to be meaningless, was sent by a criminal and read:

  Enclosed is the photograph [not in the existing police file] of the Notting Hill Gate murderer. You will find him somewhere in South Ealing. I can’t come forward as I am wanted myself for housebreaking but I hope you get him the double crossing rat.

  If these leads came to nothing, there were many others. Mrs Eagle of Colville Terrace found a pair of bloody trousers in a room which she had let out to John Cropp and his wife, who had now left. The pair were found in Maidstone. Apparently Cropp had cut his hand with a knife and his injured finger had bled.

  Ernest Kaye, a taxi driver, recalled having taken a fare from near Leinster Terrace on the night of the murder to Maida Vale. The passenger was a man aged about 30, clean shaven, very fair, of slim build and was wearing a grey suit and grey trousers. The passenger was never located, but was probably wholly innocent of murder.

  Known thieves also came under suspicion. On 11 August, one William Mitchell said that he had been with a man called Albert Southwell, who had been in Leinster Terrace at a quarter past seven in the night of the murder. Apparently a woman was heard shouting ‘They are murdering a man in there’. Southwell was questioned by the police, but was allowed to go. George Peacock and Patrick O’Donnell were also well-known criminals. They had been in Luton from 19 July to 1 August. O’Donnell had been in Harrow in late August and had been known to have committed larceny at Westbourne Terrace, Paddington, on 16 July. In the following year, James Morant, a thief who had been in and out of the army in 1918–26, said that one Stephen Turner, a fellow thief, told him that ‘He is now in the run himself over a killing job in Leinster Terrace, Bayswater.’ Ernest Edwards, in 1927, said that ‘Brummy’ and ‘Lancashire’ were to blame. The latter was Walter Pratt and the former was untraced. He was thought to be an unreliable witness, in any case.

  Louis Valleroni, a 35-year-old married man who delivered newspapers for a living, had been taking Louise Goodchild for trips out on his motor cycle, one as far afield as Ruislip. He was suggested by his erstwhile girlfriend as the killer. Apparently, after the murder Valleroni was always flush with money, but refused to go near the shop where Creed had been killed. He said he was not in the vicinity of the shop on the fateful evening and that Louise was a liar.

  The police also made house-to-house enquiries in Leinster Terrace, Leinster Gardens and Craven Hill, though only on 28 August, one month after the murder had taken place. They also checked on known thieves in Paddington, Notting Hill, Notting Dale and Marylebone. Quite why there was a delay in such standard procedure is not stated, but it certainly made the questioning less effective. None of the statements taken now survive and so it must be assumed that these enquiries were inconclusive.

  There was a fresh crop of allegations in the following decade. One, in 1931, was from Mr Angelo Portinari, who lived near Tottenham Court Road. He said that a fellow lodger came in drunk and talked about the murder. In 1932, Lilian Goodchild, a prostitute, said that Edgar Bidanville, a busker, and Jack Kennedy, a friend, were outside the shop on the night of the murder. Although Bidanville was a minor criminal, he had been employed as a nightwatchman on that night from half past seven. She was thought by the police to be a liar. Another unreliable woman was Mrs Gritton, who told the police in 1936 that a man called Studd was the killer. Yet she was very vague on details, being ‘garrulous and unreliable’.

  What had probably happened is this. One or two men waited until Creed was alone and isolated, with the door unlocked as the shop manager looked forward to leaving. They probably knocked on the door and gained admittance, as it was said that the obliging Creed would open up for a customer who just wanted a single item after usual hours. They then knocked Creed on the head and dragged the body to the office, which was then ransacked and the money taken. Because the crime was not motivated by any personal animus, the guilty party was not known by any in Creed’s circle. Lacking modern scientific methods or DNA, the police had no way of identifying the violent criminal/s who were responsible for the execution of this well-planned and cold-blooded robbery with violence.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Kidbrooke Railway Mystery, 1929

  If you go to 5 Rayner Place an see Mr F. Kallis, he is the man you want

  The morning of Wednesday 13 March 1929 began like any other, for Mr John Charles East and his wife, Winifred Maud East, of Gordon Road, Wanstead, in East London. Mr East left at 8.40 to go to work at the Commercial Road, Stepney. He was employed there as an auctioneer and valuer. He kissed his wife goodbye.

  The couple had married in July 1926. Although they had no children, they seemed happy enough. Most married women did not work at this time and Mrs East, being no exception, was able to enjoy a certain amount of freedom. She went late that morning to meet a friend, Mrs Margaret Ann Richards of Chieveley Road, Barnehurst. The two had been friends for six years and once Mrs Richards had lived near Mrs East in Wanstead. They met at Bexleyheath station at a quarter to midday and then went to Margaret’s house, about a mile south from the railway station. They had a pleasant day together there, before going to Barnehurst railway station, so that Mrs East could catch the 7.43 train back to London Bridge station.

  Bexley Station. Author’s collection

  The two women arrived at the station two minutes early. Mrs Richards bought a single ticket for her friend to travel to Bexleyheath, for she had only bought a day return ticket from London Bridge to Bexleyheath. The train arrived and Mrs East found an empty third-class carriage, sitting in a corner seat, facing the engine. Mrs Richards later described what happened next:

  I stood at the carriage door talking just a moment with my arm across the entrance to the compartment, and as I stood there, I felt a slight touch on my arm. I immediately let my arm fall and a young man stepped into the carriage and walked to the further end of the compartment. He sat on the same seat as Mrs East, but he sat at the further end. The train started at once.

  Liverpool Street Station Author’s collection

  Meanwhile, Mr East was making his way to Liverpool Street station, where he had arranged to meet his wife at about a quarter past eight, in order to catch the 8.29 train to Leytonstone and so to go home. She did not arrive. Thinking she might have taken an earlier train, he went home as planned, but she was not there. So he returned to Liverpool Street station and began to wait for her. He met every train from London, but still she did not arrive. Finally, he took the last train home. It was now midnight. Mr East later recalled, ‘I then became seriously alarmed and went to Wanstead police station’ in case there was any message there for him. There was not, and so he reported his wife as missing. The Wanstead police contacted their colleagues in Bexleyheath. Enquiries there soon revealed that Mrs East had indeed left Bexleyheath as planned.

  On the morning of the following day, George Foster was driving the first train out from Charing Cross to Dartford, the 5.34. After passing Kidbrooke station, he thought he saw a body near the line. He contacted his colleagues at the next station, Eltham, and Walter Harling, the Eltham stationmaster, was sent to investigate and took the next train to London to do so. It was at ten past six when Mr Harling found the corpse of a young woman, about three-quarters of a mile from Kidbrooke station. Seeing a policeman, he showed the man his discovery. The corpse had been decapitated. They also found a handbag and a handkerchief nearby, but there was no sign of her hat. Her watch was broken and there was a necklace under her body. An empty purse was also found nearby, but further investigation revealed that this did not belong to the deceased.

  PS Ladell from Lee police station was soon on the scene. He examined the handbag and found it contained seven shillings and five pence, and a
n umbrella. Charles Rye, a railway policeman, was on the same train on which Mrs East had travelled. He found her felt hat, her bank book, a postcard, receipts and two empty envelopes. Under the seat was her savings certificates book. Henry Colegate, the Crayford stationmaster, assisted in the hunt. Inspectors Tabard and Wells had the train removed to Beckenham Sidings for a further search. According to Tabard, ‘There was nothing whatever about that compartment that would indicate any struggle. There were no scratches on the woodwork and no glass broken.’

  The body was taken to Greenwich Mortuary on Lamb Lane, where Dr Walker, the divisional surgeon, made an initial examination that morning. He estimated that the time of death was not less than six to eight hours before and not more than 12–14 hours. Hence the time of death was between about 5 pm and 1 am. Mr East was called for at nine and when he arrived, he identified the body as being that of his wife.

  Initially this seems to have been thought of as a tragic, though mysterious, accident. There were no footprints near the corpse. Railway officials surmised that Mrs East may have been alarmed at something, opened the carriage door and then fell out of the carriage in which she was travelling. The suction caused by the speed of the train would be sufficient to draw her under the train wheels and to her death. The carriage doors would automatically close once opened on account of the wind pressure.

  However, an inquest still had to be held and this was opened at Greenwich on Friday morning, 15 March. Tabard and other Scotland Yard officials were present. Yet the only evidence taken by the coroner, Dr Whitehouse, and the jury was that of Mr East. He told them a little about his wife’s health and mental state. According to him she had been in fair health – she had had a little heart trouble a couple of years before, but had made a full recovery. At that time, she had spent six weeks in bed following medical advice in order to prevent any kind of breakdown. The couple had then had a three-week holiday. His wife was not depressed, nor was she of a nervous temperament. She had no money troubles or other worries. Mr East told them, ‘We have lived very happily together, and she has always been of a cheerful disposition.’ He added that he thought that a few pound notes were missing from his wife’s possession; perhaps £2–3, as he had seen her with that sum on the day prior to her death. The inquest was then adjourned until 22 March.