Whilst Marilyn was at the station, news came through that a preliminary post-mortem had shown that the stab wound was the direct cause of death. Dr Robert Donald Teare had noted a single stab wound on the left side of the chest, at an angle of twenty-five degrees to the horizontal. That stab had gone through between the sixth and seventh rib, into the diaphragm, through the top of the stomach and into the centre of the chest. The wound was five inches deep, but would only have required light to moderate force to inflict, as the flesh there was easily penetrated. Indeed, the wound might well have been caused by Jean falling onto the knife, accidentally, during the fight. The track of the wound had since become infected and it was that, which had led to Jean’s death.
Marilyn was then charged with murder. When the case came to trial, however, it was clear that this had all been a tragic accident. Mr Sebag Shaw, for the defence, said that his client pleaded not guilty to murder but would plead guilty to manslaughter. After a brief discussion, that plea was accepted and the murder charge was not proceeded with. It remained only to detail any previous convictions against Marilyn. There was only one. On 20 April 1960, at the West London Metropolitan Magistrates’ Court, she had been given eighteen months’ probation for stealing two wing mirrors from a car.
Marilyn Anne Bain, a woman who deeply regretted that she had taken the life of her friend, was then sentenced to three years’ imprisonment.
Chapter 39
Robert Lipman
1967
Mark Trevelyan Victor Shaw-Lawrence ran his tour operator’s business from offices on the first floor of 17 Walpole Street, Chelsea. In fact, Mark owned the entire building and rented out rooms and flats on the other floors to various tenants.
Amongst those tenants was a young nineteen-year-old French woman who occupied flat 6, which consisted of two rooms on the third floor, Claudie Delbarre, who was better known as Claudie Daniels.
The block at Walpole Street had a public pay-phone, in the hallway, just outside Mark’s offices and it was common practice for the tenants to receive calls on that number. Someone from the office would usually answer the telephone and then dash to the appropriate tenant and tell them that they had a call. So it was that when someone rang for Miss Delbarre, at around 10.30am on Tuesday, 19 September 1967, a Miss Sparke-Davies was despatched to tell Claudie that someone wished to speak to her. Unfortunately, Miss Delbarre did not appear to be at home, as there was no reply to Miss Sparke-Davies’s knocking on her flat door.
At 11.45am, another call came through for Claudie Delbarre but, again, she did not seem to be at home. Soon after this, another of the tenants, Keith Money, who lived in the ground floor flat, called in at the office and happened to remark that he hadn’t seen Claudie since Saturday, 16 September. This was most unusual. Claudie was a girl fond of parties, going out and visiting friends and it was very strange that she had not been seen for more than three days. Mark Shaw-Lawrence felt that perhaps Claudie might be ill so, taking his master key, he and Keith went up to her rooms to investigate.
Opening the front door of the flat, Mark called out for Claudie, but still there was no reply. Going into the bedroom he saw a figure lying in the bed and, assuming Claudie was asleep, called out to her again, but still there was no reply, and no sign of movement. Walking forward tentatively, Mark pulled back the bedsheet a little, to find Claudie lying in bed, almost naked. There was obviously something very wrong here, so Mark locked up the flat again and decided to send for a doctor.
The nearest surgery was not far away and a member of staff was sent to fetch the doctor. It transpired that the usual doctor was on holiday, and the surgery was being manned by a locum, a Dr Davidson. Details of what Mark had found were given to the receptionist, who said she would pass the information on to Dr Davidson. The doctor, however, did not attend. A second visit to the surgery was made, but it was not until the third visit that Dr Davidson admitted that he was refusing to visit the flat, as he did not wish to get involved. He advised Mark to contact the police instead. This rather callous delay meant that it was not until 12.25pm, that the police were contacted.
The police did not delay and, at 12.28pm, Constable Michael Argent arrived at 17 Walpole Street. Going up to flat number 6, he viewed the body himself before calling in the police surgeon, Dr Albert Lovell.
At 12.45pm, Dr Lovell arrived. He confirmed that life was extinct and noticed that the bed appeared to have pulled away from the wall a little. There was a triangular-shaped gap between the bed and the wall and in this area, Dr Lovell noticed a broken glass. It was also clear that someone else must have been inside the flat. There were a great number of cigarette stubs, of two different types, in the ashtray, and two cups which were half full of cold tea. Dr Lovell also found fifteen Flagyl tablets on a mantle shelf and six tablets of Tetracycline in the sitting room. More importantly, perhaps, Dr Lovell noticed that Claudie’s mouth had been stuffed with some material from the bed. There were also some small bruises on her body; one near her jaw on the right and two more on her forearm. This did not look like a straightforward case and Dr Lovell advised Constable Argent to contact his station and report the matter to CID.
The officers conducting the investigation, collected the broken pieces of glass from the side of the bed and dusted them for fingerprints. One set was found and these did not match the prints taken from the dead woman, indicating that they, most likely, belonged to whoever had been in the flat with her. The same prints were found on one of the tea cups, and at other locations around the flat. When those prints were checked against the police database, a name was revealed. The prints belonged to a man named Robert Lipman.
Lipman was an American, who lived in New York, but he was a regular visitor to Britain and, quite recently, he had been arrested for being in possession of cannabis resin on 11 September 1967, and had been fined £25. This in turn meant that the police not only had his fingerprints, but also a detailed description: six feet six inches tall, heavy build, dark brown hair with grey streaks. They also knew that he was the holder of American passport number F 86.2012 and an international driving licence numbered 256776; and even that he had been born in New York city on 21 July 1931.
It was a simple matter to trace the hotel where Lipman was staying at. Checks showed that he had arrived in Britain on Monday, 11 September, the day he had been arrested, and had travelled to the Knightsbridge Green Hotel, at 159 Knightsbridge. The police duly visited the hotel, where they spoke to the receptionist, Mercia Jane de Baeupre-Tapping. Mercia confirmed that Lipman had arrived at the hotel at some time between 11.00am and 12.30pm on 11 September, and had asked for a single suite, saying that he intended staying for a couple of weeks. He was given room 5.
Exactly one week later, on Monday, 18 September, Mercia had been on duty at the front desk, when she saw Lipman rush in from outside. He was wearing a blue jacket, grey trousers and a light shirt, but no tie. His hair was dishevelled and he appeared not to have either washed or shaved. He asked if there were any messages for him and, told that they were not, ran up the stairs to his room. Just five minutes later he rang down and said he wanted his bill drawn up as he was leaving immediately.
At 9.40am, Lipman was back downstairs, asking for his bill, which Mercia was still in the process of making up. Lipman had still not washed or shaved and seemed to be in a great hurry. He was very agitated and at one stage shouted, ‘Quick, quick, where’s my bill.’ Mercia told him she was still making it up and he replied, ‘I don’t care, just let me know how much I owe and I’ll write out a cheque.’
Mercia pointed out that it was hotel policy not to accept cheques, whereupon Lipman became very angry. Eventually, Mercia had to speak to the manager, who agreed to take a cheque this time. Lipman scribbled out one for £12 19s 6d and then ran from the hotel.
The police now had to find where Lipman had run to. It seemed reasonable to assume that if he were connected with Claudie’s death in some way, and had been in such a hurry to check out of his hotel, t
hen he might well be trying to leave the country. Local travel agents were interviewed and this led officers to call on Brian Frederick Andrews, a ticket agent who operated a company named Cedars Travel, from offices at 18e Curzon Street.
Brian confirmed that at around 10.00am on 18 September, Lipman had come into the office asking about flights to Lisbon that morning. Lipman was given the times and the prices of the various flights available, but then changed his mind and said he wished to fly to Copenhagen instead. He explained that his ex-wife lived there and he could visit her first, before getting a flight from there to Lisbon, in a few days time. After some further discussion, a flight leaving at 12.40pm was booked, at a price of £78 13s. Once again, Robert Lipman paid by cheque, before the receptionist rang for a cab to take him to the airport.
That cab driver, Dennis Murphy, was traced, and he told police that he had been called to the travel agents at 11.00am on 18 September. He saw a very tall, well-built man waiting outside and asked if he were Mr Lipman. Once Lipman had confirmed that he was the fare, Murphy got out to put the luggage into his cab. Lipman was in such a hurry that he helped Murphy, and at one stage, whilst collecting his bag from inside the travel agents, knocked over a silver metallic vase. Flowers and water went all over the floor but Lipman did not stop to help clear the mess up.
Having heard Lipman’s American accent, Murphy assumed that his fare was travelling to the United States and so took him to the wrong terminal. Lipman was furious, but was finally taken to the correct area. Murphy dropped him off at 12.15pm. There could now be no doubt; Lipman had escaped, the day before Claudie Delbarre’s body had been found.
The matter was not left to rest there. Lipman may well have escaped to Copenhagen and would probably move on to Lisbon from there, but eventually he would return to his native country, and his home city of New York. The British police now contacted their American counterparts and the extradition process was started. It was this which eventually led to two officers, Detective Superintendent Huntley and Detective Chief Inspector Fred Lambert to fly to Kennedy airport on 30 April 1968. There, at 7.00pm, they took charge of Robert Lipman, and then all three men flew back to England. At 10.05pm, on 1 May, Lipman was charged with murder at the Chelsea police station.
Lipman’s trial took place at the Old Bailey on 10 October 1968, before Mr Justice Milmo. The case for the prosecution was led by Mr John Mathew, assisted by Mr Brian Leary. Lipman was defended by Mr Michael Eastham and Mr Norman King.
Witnesses were called to detail the movements of both Lipman and Claudie Delbarre on Saturday, 16 September, the last day she had been seen alive, and the day she had first met Robert Lipman.
Stephen Richard Saunders was an American, who had moved to London on 23 December 1966, and now lived at 1 Oakley Gardens. He testified that he had been invited to a meal at the Bagdad Restaurant, by Benny Carruthers, an actor he knew. They had arrived at the restaurant at about 10.40pm on 16 September, where they had met some people they knew, and others, who were friends of friends. Saunders said that already present were Maggie Foote, her sister, Judy Foote, Ian Quarrier, a woman named Paula and two others; Bob Lipman and Claudie. Stephen had also taken along his girlfriend, Shay Davidson.
The group all enjoyed a meal together, finally leaving at some time between 12.30am and 12.45am on Sunday, 17 September. The party separated after the meal, all going their different ways, in smaller groups, but they all agreed to meet up later, at a club called the Speak Easy, at 48 Margaret Street. First, however, Stephen dropped Lipman off at his hotel, as he wanted to change his clothes.
In due course, everyone met at the Speak Easy, where they all had a few drinks. When Stephen left, he gave a lift to four people: Shay Davidson, Maggie Foote, Robert Lipman and Claudie Delbarre. The first people he dropped off were Lipman and Claudie, who asked to get out at the Sloane Square cab rank. It was then some time after 4.00am.
That was the last time that anyone saw Lipman and Claudie together. It seemed reasonable to assume that he had then gone back to her flat, where she had been killed and Robert had then rushed back to his hotel, packed his belongings, booked a flight and ultimately left the country.
Details of the cause of Claudie’s death were given by Professor Donald Teare who had performed the post-mortem. He described Claudie as a young girl, five feet one inches tall in life. The bruises on her body had occurred just before she died and it seemed clear that she had been struck on the head, by the glass, which had shattered and fallen to the floor by the bed. This blow would have rendered Claudie unconscious and eventually lead to a cerebral haemorrhage. However, the direct cause of death was suffocation, due to the material stuffed into Claudie’s mouth.
Lipman did step into the witness box to give his own version of the events that took place inside Claudie’s flat on that fateful day. He claimed that both he and Claudie had taken LSD and he had then had a ‘bad trip’. He had the illusion that he was descending to the centre of the earth and, once there, he was attacked by large snakes. He had tried to fight these snakes off and he must have struck Claudie, accidentally, during this time. When he woke up later he found her dead in the bed, panicked and fled the country.
The jury retired to consider their verdict and, after some time, sent a note to the judge asking for guidance as they could not agree on a unanimous verdict. Eventually, after receiving that guidance, they found Lipman not guilty of murder, but guilty of manslaughter. Even then they could not agree and had to return a majority verdict of ten to two. Lipman was then sentenced to serve six years in prison and, once free, would be deported.
On 28 July 1969, Lipman appealed against his conviction and his sentence. The case was heard by Lord Justice Widgery, Lord Justice Atkinson, and Mr Justice James. After three days of hearing evidence and deliberating the various legal arguments, they ruled that the conviction was safe and the sentence of six years must stand.
In fact, Robert Lipman, as is usual, did not serve the full six years. Having obtained the statutory remission, he was freed in early 1971. On 1 February of that year, he was deported back to the United States.
Chapter 40
Other Murders and Foul Deeds
Various Dates
In addition to the crimes mentioned in the previous chapters of this book, other murders and foul deeds took place within the confines of Chelsea and Kensington. These stories are covered here in chronological order.
(1) Fanny Young, 1863
Fanny, who was not yet nineteen years of age, was in service to Arthur Buller and his family, in Kensington. She had worked for them for eight months and was highly regarded by the family.
As Fanny’s stay progressed, the family could not help but notice that Fanny appeared to be putting on a good deal of weight. More specifically, that weight seemed to be concentrated around the stomach region but, when questioned, she denied that she was pregnant.
One day in November, Fanny’s new weight suddenly vanished overnight. Suspicious of this, the family made a search of the house and, in a drawer in Fanny’s bedroom, the body of a child was discovered, wrapped in a napkin.
At both the subsequent magistrates’ court and the coroner’s court, Fanny was found guilty of murder. However, the Grand Jury overturned both verdicts and when Fanny appeared at the Old Bailey, before Mr Justice Blackburn, on 14 December, the charge had been reduced to one of concealing the birth of her illegitimate child. Originally she pleaded not guilty but her counsel, Mr Ribton, informed the judge that he was unable to argue against the charge. It was tantamount to the defence council saying that his client was guilty. After some discussion, Fanny changed her plea to guilty whereupon sentence was deferred until the next session of the court. Eventually, Fanny was to escape prison altogether, the State believing that she had already suffered enough.
(2) The murder of Mary Ann Walsh, 1881
Mary’s body was found in the front garden of 162 King’s Road, Chelsea on a Wednesday in mid-February, 1881. There were signs that she had
been strangled.
A subsequent post-mortem examination by Dr Pearce of Markham Square showed that there were finger marks on Mary’s neck, and she had also been struck a number of times about the head and shoulders, but the direct cause of death was exposure. She had been attacked on a particularly cold night, rendered unconscious and left to die in the cold. It was, nevertheless, a case of murder.
The inquest was held at the Hope Tavern, in Arthur Street, Chelsea, before Dr Diplock. As expected, the verdict was ‘murder by person or persons unknown’.
(3) The murder of Ernest Castelein, 1945
Ernest Castelein was a native of Belgium and quite an accomplished artist. He had exhibited in his own country and now operated from a studio in Cromwell Road, Kensington.
On Wednesday, 25 July 1945, a nurse walking past the studio heard a deep groaning. She telephoned the police who broke into the building and found Ernest lying on the floor. He had been badly beaten and was rushed to hospital in Wimbledon. Ernest never recovered consciousness and died from his injuries on Monday, 30 July.
A thorough police investigation by Scotland Yard included speaking to all taxi-drivers, who may have picked up a fare early on the morning of 25 July. This led to a description of a tall man, who had been seen in the vicinity of Gloucester Road and Cromwell Road in the early hours of that Wednesday. Unfortunately, witnesses were unable to say whether or not the man had been a soldier or a civilian and, with so little to go on, the investigation soon ran out of steam. The attacker was never traced and the murder remains unsolved.
(4) The murder of Violet McGrath, 1954
On the morning of Sunday, 9 May 1954, the body of sixty-fouryear-old Violet McGrath was found in her flat in Onslow Square, Kensington. She had been battered and strangled to death, and a trail of blood led from behind the front door, implying that was where the attack had started. It also suggested that the killer may well have been known to Violet and that she had been attacked, as she was letting him out of the flat.
Foul Deeds in Kensington and Chelsea Page 19
