Leicester Square. Author’s collection
Warwick Street, 2008. Author’s collection
Her last known movements were as follows. On 29 September, she left the flat at 11 in the morning. At 2 she went to Bear Street with a man and went there again with another four hours later. Miss Marie Davies recalled having seen her then. It was common for her to take two or three men to her flat each day, but she rarely did so in the evening. She had begun to make her way back to Warwick Street at eight. However, one Foster (and of him, more anon) claimed to have seen her near the Arcade at Leicester Square. Although some prostitutes claimed to have seen her on 29 September and 1 October, the police believed that Foster’s sighting had been the last.
As with most murders of prostitutes, it was not going to be easy for the police. Sharpe noted, ‘There was no doubt that this case was going to be a bit of a stinker. There was no doubt about it; anyone of hundreds of people might have murdered her and we’d got a tough job ahead of us.’
There were numerous suspects. As the police stated, ‘During the course of the enquiry a number of persons have come under notice, who could be reasonably suspected of being the author of this crime.’ Peter the Pimp, ‘a dark-skinned fellow of Greek extraction’, was one. He had been seen by other women watching Annie and there had been quarrels between the two of them over money. However, it transpired that the witnesses had mistook another girl for Annie and so he was ruled out. Other suspects included Geoffrey Cowlan, who had met Annie in July and said they were engaged. She was known to have had made several trips to Chatham, where he was stationed. He was a sailor and a jealous man. He had been spying on Annie and had been keeping watch on her address on 30 September. However, he was at Chatham barracks on the evening of 29 September, having last seen her three days previously. Other suspects were a street costermonger and a man from Zanzibar. Another was William Docherty, a 24-year-old waiter of Wimborne, Dorset, who confessed to stabbing Annie to death (which she had not been), but he was in jail at the time of the murder.
The police investigation, as ever, was painstaking. Apparently a total of 502 statements were taken. Houses in Shaftesbury Avenue, gullies and railway stations were searched for the missing keys and the handbag. They were never discovered.
The inquest took place on 19 November, presided over by Oddie. In the mean time a number of additional facts had emerged. Frank Foster, aged 27, an excellent cricketer and of independent means, of Ryder Street, bravely came forward as an acquaintance of the late girl. On 28 September, he had met her at Piccadilly Tube station at 8 pm. He had said that she seemed lonely, hungry and poor. Foster thought that she was troubled, though whether by a particular individual or by money worries, he was uncertain. He went with her to Warwick Street after they had had dinner at a restaurant. He spent the night with her, albeit with him sleeping in an armchair. According to Cornish’s memoirs, Foster claimed that a man came to the door of the flat and asked her how she was. When she said she was fine, he left, but Foster never caught a good look at him. Could he have been her pimp? Foster later gave her a cheque for £10. This was because she told him that she was in debt to the tune of £7 or £8 and he felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, though Foster was expecting money into the account, he had, in fact, less than £10 in it. When questioned about the murder, he denied that he had ever been in the empty shop, did not possess the key and had only heard about the crime on 3 October when he read about it in the newspapers. The police thought he was one of three major suspects, claiming he was ‘a man who is fond of the company of prostitutes and possesses a peculiar temprament’. The police thought that his motive was that he had knowingly given her a worthless cheque and he had been the last known person to see Annie alive. Yet there was no evidence to directly link him to the murder.
It was then that the events, real and (perhaps) imagined, of 29 September were recounted. Hilda Mary Margaret Keenan had been employed by a firm of estate agents who were agents for the shop premises in question. It was she who gave the keys to Field on that day so he could do some work there. He duly went there to remove some signboards. Whilst he was standing in the window, he claimed that a man wearing plus fours came into the shop and asked him for the keys. Field initially hesitated, but the man said, ‘It’s all right. I have an order.’ Field was then given a piece of paper on which were the following words, ‘Please hand the keys over’. It was signed by the agents. The keys were then handed over. Hilda Keenan told the court that she did not issue such an order.
Shortly afterwards, the man returned. He told Field that he had bought the premises and that he intended to use it as a shop selling fancy leather goods. He wanted some lighting work done and asked Field to carry out the work. He then arranged with him to meet at Piccadilly Circus station that night to discuss the matter. The stranger then said he would return the keys to the agents and departed. They met as arranged at 9.15 pm and Field was advanced £2. On returning to the shop, the man found he had not got the keys, so left Field there in order to find them. Twenty minutes later, Field was still alone. The man never returned.
Four days after the discovery of the body, Field was taken to Richmond Police Station. There he was shown a man in the cells, who was wearing a pinhead striped suit. Field claimed, ‘As soon as I saw his face I recognized him as the man I gave the keys to, even before he had spoken.’ We shall return to this man shortly. William Finlay, a sign fixer of Kentish Town, recalled that, on 30 September, Field told him that the stranger was a tall man, wearing brown plus fours, well built, with a tanned face and a gold tooth.
Oddie asked Field a few questions. He said that he thought it odd that the two men met at Piccadilly Circus station, instead of going straight to the shop. Field replied that it was the first location which came into his head. He also asked why Field had changed his clothes before meeting the man for the installing lights into a dirty shop; surely best clothes indicated meeting a woman? Field had a reply for this, too, ‘The main reason was that I had to transmit business with this man and I wanted to look as decent as I could.’
Oddie concluded that whoever had had the keys to the premises had entered there with the girl and robbed and killed her. The inquest was adjourned until 26 November. Sharpe suspected Field was lying, as ‘his story didn’t sound too good from the first’. Oddie felt that Field was ‘an impudent and self confident fellow’. However, at the conclusion to the inquest, the main theme concerned Peter Webb, the man identified by Field as being the mysterious stranger to whom he had given the keys. Webb was represented by Mr Sharman, a solicitor. Field and Webb were the police’s other two main suspects.
Apparently Webb, whose proper Christian names were Harold John, had been arrested by DS Smurdon on 5 October for confidence tricks, and was later sentenced to three months in jail. Among Webb’s possessions at Richmond Hill Hotel was a plus four suit in bright check, as well as a £1 note, two 10s notes, 6d in silver and 7d in bronze. The suit was the reason why Field was called to identify him. Oddly enough, though Field identified Webb as the stranger, he did not identify the suit as the one worn. Furthermore, when Field claimed to recognize Webb, the latter said, ‘I do not know you’, to which Field replied, ‘Yes you do. I handed you the keys of the shop in Shaftesbury Avenue last Tuesday.’ Webb persisted in his innocence.
Webb was then called upon to give his version of events. He had left Bognor on 28 September and went to the Belmont Hotel, a boarding house in Highbury, where he paid a deposit and took a room there. He was wearing his plus four suit on the following day, leaving the boarding house at 10 am. He had a coffee in Islington and took a no. 19 bus to Kingsway. Alighting at Aldwych, he met a Mr Couton, a business associate, there and the two walked up Kingsway and had drinks in a hotel. He went to the Tivoli cinema and saw The Bad Girl. He left at 3.15 and attended a tea dance at the Regal, Marble Arch. Mr King, the host, saw him and spoke to him. Webb left at 6.05 and then returned to the boarding house. Numerous witnesses, such as Mr Fisher general
manager of the cinema, John Hay a waiter at the Belmont, and Mr King, all vouched for Webb’s movements. It should be added that Webb did not have a gold tooth. He denied ever meeting Field or going to anywhere in Shaftesbury Avenue or Piccadilly Circus station. Clearly he was not the stranger Field claimed to have met. Indeed, the question arose whether Field had met anyone.
The inquest returned a verdict of murder by person or persons unknown. Oddie was unhappy about the verdict. He thought that Field was guilty and that ‘he knew that I knew who had committed this murder’. He noted a number of pertinent questions. Why had Field not taken the stranger’s name and why had the man taken possession. Why should the man wish to rent a £1,000 per annum premises and then give the work to a workman unknown to him? Why should the stranger give Field £2 and then disappear? Why did he make the railway station the rendezvous? Why did Field dress so smartly? Why did he not bring any work equipment with him? Oddie thought Field’s story nothing but ‘a wicked and malicious pretence and imposture’.
Another suspicious circumstance surrounding Field was his finances. He was paid 47s a week. Shortly before the murder, he paid a colleague the £2 he owed him. Just after the murder, he apparently had a windfall, and was able to give his wife some much needed money. It was possible that this windfall had been the money he stole from Annie’s body after killing her. Yet this could not be proved.
Field was also thought to have known Annie previously. Florence Taylor said that Gertrude Douglas of Bear Street claimed, ‘He used to phone her up nearly every day at 7 Bear Street and I used to take messages.’ She thought that Field often waited for her outside the flat. She also offered some speculation that on the fatal night ‘he took her there on the understanding that he was going to show her a flat’. We cannot be sure if this was correct or why it might be. But all this is speculation.
Bear Street, 2008. Author’s collection
In the following years there were some confessions. One was in 1932 by a man in prison, but he had made similar confessions before to other murders, and in any case, he had not been at liberty when Annie was killed. Albert Bradshaw, a 51-year-old waiter, and a burglar of Camden Town, claimed to have killed her and confessed at Kentish Town Police station on 28 December 1932, but after being remanded was released. Three years later, Sidney Smith, an Australian and a former soldier, confessed. His alleged victim was not Annie, but was one Florrie Payne, and she was still alive. Yet he could not account for his movements, was mentally defective and had a history of violence. Detective Inspector Edwards, in 1935, thought he might have been guilty.
Another suspect was Captain Alexander Patterson, from New Zealand. He lived in London with a woman and was separated from his wife. Aged 37 he was just over six feet tall. He came under suspicion because he wore plus fours and had a gold tooth, so appeared to be similar to the man Field allegedly met. Although he was not initially found, he eventually was and was cleared. One Captain Bourke was seen in a hotel in Ross on Wye and he also looked like the mystery man. He could not be located.
Other witnesses came forward. A Norwood tobacconist recalled seeing an Asian man in his shop who seemed suspicious. A woman saw an Indian student knocking a woman against railings near Leicester Square. A suspicious man was seen at South Merton railway station by a man who did not want his name to be made public.
But perhaps the most peculiar twist of the tale was the confession by Field at Marlborough Street Police station in 1933. He told the police, ‘I want to give myself up for the murder of Nora Upchurch at the empty shop in Shaftesbury Avenue.’ This was because he thought his wife and child would be better off without him. He signed a statement and was formally charged with the offence. Part of the confession read as follows:
I had tea, washed, and dressed myself, and returned to the West End. About 9.30 I was in Leicester Square, when I saw a girl whom I afterwards knew to be Norah Upchurch. Neither of us spoke then, but at about 10.25 that night I saw her in Bear Street, Leicester Square and she beckoned to me from across the road. I went over and asked if she could come back to my place and she agreed.
After they arrived at the empty shop, he said that she bit him:
When she hurt me I lost my temper and grabbed her around the throat. She seemed to faint and fell back out of my hands to the floor. She did not speak or murmur. I knew something serious was wrong when she fell back and I lost control of myself and cannot remember what happened afterwards. I stayed there a few minutes and surmised she was dead before I left.
On taking the handbag, he was concerned his fingerprints might appear on it, so he threw it away in a ditch in Sutton. Sharpe spoke to him and was convinced he was guilty. After speaking to him, he recalled, ‘It’s a funny feeling, sitting with a man whom you realise is a murderer.’ Cornish, however, may have been less convinced, as he does not point the finger at Field in his memoirs, and indeed noted: ‘The murder of Norah Upchurch was to prove one of the most baffling which I have had to handle.’
Field was sent for trial at the Old Bailey. What emerged was very strange indeed. It was found that, on 25 July that year, a newspaper office had told the police about Field’s confession. It seems that Field entered into an unorthodox arrangement with them, agreeing to confess if they would give him an undisclosed sum of money. At the trial, he pleaded not guilty and, apart from the confession, there was nothing else to show that he was guilty. He was therefore acquitted.
Mr Justice Swift was unimpressed by the turn of events and issued a stern rebuke:
Anything more disgraceful I have never heard. A man goes to a newspaper office and says, ‘I am confessing that I have been guilty of murder’. The newspaper representatives thereupon take him about the country, photographing him, and for hours refrain from communicating with the police as every decent and respectable citizen ought to do as soon as he hears that a crime has been committed. … I warn newspapermen of these proclivities, that if they do this sort of thing, they are likely to find themselves very seriously dealt with.
When Swift had asked Field to explain his behaviour, Field answered, ‘I wanted the whole thing cleared up properly. The whole thing was left in the air. People said “This man has done it”. I could not turn round and say, “I have been proved innocent”. I could not do anything or say anything.’ The judge replied that it was ‘a peculiar way of proving your innocence to say you are guilty’.
As an epilogue to this story, one Mrs Beatrice Sutton, a Clapham prostitute, was found strangled in her flat, in April 1936. Field, who was now in the RAF, confessed to the crime, as before, then, as before, retracted his confession. This time, though, he confessed too much, revealing information that only the killer would have known, and the jury found him guilty of this murder. He was hanged.
Whether this is proof that he killed Annie as well is impossible to know. The circumstantial evidence is strong and the fact that he employed a similar technique a few years later is also highly suspect. Certainly officialdom, in the form of Sharpe and Oddie were convinced of his guilt, though they were writing after the second murder. Cornish, writing without this knowledge, did not venture such an opinion. The truth of the matter will never be known for certain, however.
CHAPTER 13
Violation and Murder in Notting Hill, 1931
There have been many theories advanced by various people to the identity of the murderer of Vera Page, but although we continued our investigations with all possible energy, the murderer has never arrested. (Superintendent Cornish)
Those who remember the 1930s often recall how safe the streets were in comparison to more recent times and that children could walk about unmolested. Whilst generally this was true, in this shocking case it was not, and though this case is the exception that proves the rule, it makes it even more terrible. The young victim had been molested as well as murdered, and furthermore, her violator/killer was never convicted. Oddie wrote, ‘To my mind the most revolting of all crimes is the murder of little children by sexual perverts.
’ This is probably the least unknown crime of this book, but previous accounts have been limited in their detail and have not used all the available evidence. This account is both fuller and reveals new evidence against the principal suspect.
The western suburbs of central London were a curious district and were described thus in 1952, just before the grim revelations of Rillington Place, where at number 10 eight people were killed between 1943 and 1953:
that very mixed region of London which stretches north from Shepherd’s Bush and Holland Park to Wormwood Scrubs and to the Harrow Road. It is a region where the shabby-genteel mergers into the slum, where the police used to patrol Notting Dale in pairs, and where, on the other hand, miles of mean streets are fringed along the south by avenues of trees and pleasant squares, expensive flats and large houses with drives, a colony of studios and the woodland of Holland House. It is one of the few hilly districts north of the Thames, with Campden Hill and its water-tower standing up over against the similar sharp rise, topped by another landmark, the spire of St. John to Evangelist, up which Montpelier Road climbs from Clarendon Road to Ladbroke Grove and Lansdowne and Stanley Crescents.
Unsolved London Murders Page 10
