Dorset Murders

by Sly, Nicola;

  On New Year’s Day 1926, Robert Wright dropped a bombshell. He went to see Bill Howe, his foreman at Hoare’s and handed in his notice with immediate effect. Howe asked him if he had another job to go to, but the taciturn Wright would only say that he had, without offering any more details.

  Beatrice was shocked and horrified when he broke the news of his unemployment to her that evening, even more so when Robert told her that he had resigned rather than been laid off or sacked. However, Robert assured her that he had a plan and, trusting his judgement, she didn’t push for more information, accepting that he would tell her when he was good and ready.

  It was January. The weather was cold and wintry and Robert and Beatrice were living in rented accommodation without the means to heat it and too poor to buy food for themselves or their two daughters. As before, it was Chalkley the milkman who came to the rescue. He had become very fond of the two little girls, Marjory, now three years old and Amy Violet, aged twenty-two months, and, unpaid bills or not, he couldn’t bear the thought of the children starving for want of milk. Hence he continued to ladle milk into Mrs Wright’s jug each day and to accept her constant promises that he would be paid in full very soon.

  Wright left the house briefly on 5 January to collect his tools from Hoare’s. Apart from this one short excursion, none of the Wright family was seen outside the house and, when tradesmen to whom they owed money knocked on the door, their knocks went unanswered.

  On 26 January 1926, Chalkley again decided to try and collect some of his outstanding bill. He knocked on the door of the Wright home and was not particularly surprised to receive no reply. However, as he was leaving, he happened to glance down and noticed that the jug of milk that he had filled for Beatrice the previous day was still standing untouched on the doorstep. Recognising that something was seriously wrong, he immediately went to the police and at half-past two in the afternoon; PC Lake arrived in Bournemouth Road to investigate.

  He managed to gain entrance to the property by a broken pane of glass in the back door. The blinds were drawn and the house was in partial darkness. Lake made his way carefully across the deserted living room and upstairs to the bedroom, where the blinds were also drawn closed. As he opened the bedroom door, Lake was aware of something heavy falling against his foot. As his eyes gradually became accustomed to the dim light, he realised that he was facing a pair of double beds and in those beds lay all four members of the Wright family, all of them dead. Averting his eyes immediately from the gruesome scene of carnage that faced him, Lake looked down to see what had fallen against his foot. It was a heavily bloodstained axe.

  Lake rushed to summon assistance and before long reinforcements arrived in the form of PC Trevis and Dr Patterson. Struggling to keep his balance on a floor slippery with spilled blood, Patterson ascertained that Beatrice and the two girls had been almost decapitated by the axe. Robert, dressed in just trousers and stockinged feet, lay across the foot of the bed, a razor at his side, with several gaping cuts across his throat. All had been dead for more than twenty-four hours.

  Police began a search of the house and found a bloodstained collar downstairs on the kitchen table. On the mantelpiece lay a shilling and two sixpences and a holdall was found that contained little else but Robert Wright’s insurance card. Apart from that, the house was woefully bare, its occupants having pawned almost everything they owned in a desperate struggle to survive. Neighbours were interviewed and, although they could offer little insight into the tragedy, one did recall hearing a scream the previous Sunday, which appeared to come from the direction of the Wright’s house.

  An inquest was opened into the deaths of Robert, Beatrice and the two little girls who had been formally identified by Beatrice’s father, Mr Giles. Mr Hatton Budge, the coroner, professed himself to be mystified at the circumstances regarding the family’s deaths. Nobody could be found who knew why the Wrights had moved to Bournemouth from Manchester – if indeed it had been Manchester they had come from. Mr Giles told the coroner that he could only think of one person – Robert’s brother – who might be able to shed some light on the Wright’s recent life. However, he did not know the brother’s name or address, beyond thinking that he was living somewhere in New Jersey, America.

  Dr Patterson had conducted post-mortem examinations on all four bodies and had determined that death for the two girls had at least been relatively quick. Both were dressed in their nightclothes and lay as if sleeping, one still clutching a ragged doll. The cause of death for Marjory and Amy Violet was given as the severing of their spinal cords by injuries to the back of the neck, caused by the axe found in the bedroom.

  For Beatrice Wright, the end had been less swift. The fact that one of her neighbours had heard a scream seemed to suggest that she had been awake when she was attacked and received a large wound to the back of her head. When found, she was sitting partially upright, rather than lying down and Patterson believed that she had been aware of what was about to happen and had begun to take evasive action. Robert, Patterson stated, had cut his own throat with a razor.

  With so little known about the Wright family and their circumstances, all the coroner’s jury could do was to return a verdict that Robert Percy Wright had killed his wife and children and then himself while temporarily insane.

  A funeral was held for the family and, unusually, Robert was allowed to be buried with his family. (Frequently those who committed suicide were not permitted a burial in consecrated ground.) Their funeral attracted large crowds, but among those were very few people who had actually known the Wright family in life. Even Mr Giles, the only relative to attend, was a virtual stranger, having only recently met the daughter from whom he had been estranged for many years.

  The family were buried in a double grave in Parkstone cemetery. Unsurprisingly, no form of headstone has ever been erected to mark their final resting place or their memory.

  16

  ‘I WILL HAVE YOU ALL, ONE AT A TIME’

  Wimborne, 1930

  Captain Frank Hawkeswood Burdett moved to Wimborne shortly after the end of the First World War, to a bungalow that he named Handicraft House, probably because of his love of leather craft. His tooled leather products were of the highest quality and Burdett frequently exhibited his work in nearby Bournemouth and Dorchester.

  There were two sides to Captain Burdett. He was a community-minded man, who worked tirelessly in local politics and was prepared to knuckle down and organise events in the area, while other people preferred to watch from the sidelines and enjoy the fruits of his efforts without getting involved in any of the work. However, his other side was less appealing – Frank Burdett was a braggart and a liar, who embroidered his rather lonely life with tall tales and boasts. For instance, when complimented on his leatherwork, he insisted that members of the royal family were regular purchasers of his handiwork, deftly changing the subject when he was pumped for more details of his royal patrons. Since he was never prepared to discuss his private life prior to arriving in Wimborne, many of the townspeople doubted his military service and thus his entitlement to call himself Captain.

  For the most part, Burdett was a quiet, unassuming and rather likeable man, but his increasingly frequent bouts of arrogance and boasting were gradually beginning to alienate the people of Wimborne, to whom he soon became a bit of a joke.

  The last straw came with a confrontation at his local pub, the Horns Inn. Normally, Frank would sit quietly in a corner, enjoying a drink and a chat with the regulars. However, one day, he elected instead to stand at the bar all evening, loudly telling the landlord how he should be conducting his business. Eventually, the landlord grew so irritated by the unwelcome advice, that he threw Burdett out and banned him from ever drinking in the pub again. This incident marked a turning point for Burdett, as the locals sided with the landlord and Burdett found himself ostracised.

  Only one family stood by him. Thomas Holloway of Walfsord Farm was outraged at the treatment of his near neighbour by th
e townspeople. Holloway told his wife that the very least people could do was treat Burdett like a human being, and decided to pave the way to fostering better relations between the Captain and the locals by inviting Burdett to dine at his house.

  Thus, social pariah Burdett came to be eating supper with the Holloway family, Thomas, his wife Louise, their four adult sons, Alfred, Ernest, Maurice and Archibald, and their eighteen-year-old daughter Beatrix, known as Trixie. At first, the conversation around the dinner table was stilted and not helped by the fact that, when asked by the Holloways about his experiences in the Army, Burdett neatly sidestepped the question, claiming that talk of his war experiences would bore the young people. Instead, he changed the subject, commiserating with the family on the recent death of their eldest daughter. Thomas Holloway, anxious that his wife should not be upset, quickly interjected to tell his guest about the family’s other two sons. Burdett’s military career was soon forgotten, to the slight annoyance of Thomas Holloway, who had hoped to be able to put an end to the rumours circulating around Wimborne about Captain Burdett’s status.

  Still, the evening passed pleasantly enough and the Holloways found Burdett a charming and interesting guest. So much so, that he was invited back again and again. Although he continued to be reticent about speaking of his past, managing to change the subject whenever it looked like becoming the topic of conversation, Burdett was only too ready to talk about his business, so much so that young Trixie expressed an interest in seeing some of his crafts.

  Burdett immediately promised to bring some with him on his next visit, then an even better idea occurred to him – perhaps Trixie would like to visit his bungalow to watch how the work was done as well as see the finished articles?

  Trixie was allowed to visit Handicraft House and, following her visit, became something of a favourite of the Captain’s. At future suppers at Walsford Farm, Burdett paid ever more attention to her, neglecting the other members of the family. Although it was obvious to the Holloways that their guest was slowly distancing himself from them, they were too polite to say anything, until Trixie herself brought matters to a head by announcing to her mother that she and Captain Burdett were in love and intended to get married.

  The Holloways were distraught. Captain Burdett was more than three times Trixie’s age and old enough to be her grandfather. Thomas Holloway raged, Louise begged and Trixie’s brothers pleaded with her to reconsider, but Trixie was beyond listening to reason or commonsense. As the arguments about her future marriage reached a climax, she walked out of the farmhouse in a temper and went to live with Burdett.

  In the first half of the twentieth century, a respectable unmarried couple living together as man and wife was almost unheard of. Thomas Holloway not only forbade the rest of his family to speak to Burdett again, but he attempted to thwart his daughter’s plans by taking out a charge against Burdett for Trixie’s abduction. However, Trixie had made her own application to the court for permission to marry Frank Burdett without her parents’ consent.

  The Square, Wimborne, 1930s.

  The situation was at stalemate when Louise Holloway suggested a compromise. She reasoned that Trixie would never willingly give up her boyfriend and felt that it was better for the Holloways to give their consent to the marriage rather than suffer the shame and disgrace of their daughter ‘living in sin’. Thomas Holloway was initially furious about the idea of the marriage taking place, but when he had calmed down a little, he saw the sense in his wife’s proposition and went to the magistrates to withdraw his charge. Trixie became Mrs Frank Burdett on 28 May 1930. Hers was not the elaborate wedding of every young girl’s dreams. Instead, it was a simple ceremony at Wimborne Register Office, with only the necessary officials and witnesses in attendance. The Holloways may have given their consent to the marriage, but they had not given their blessing and none of the family were present.

  Although very much in love, the couple’s married life did not get off to the best of starts. Captain Burdett was in dire financial straits, a fact he had kept from his young bride. Wracking his brains to think of a way in which to improve their finances, Burdett came up with a scheme to obtain funds to benefit ex-servicemen, appealing for donations in a London newspaper. However, since the newspaper required evidence that the money was to be used as Burdett said it would be – and since Burdett was likely to be the only ex-serviceman actually benefiting – the scheme never got off the ground. Eventually, Burdett was forced to go cap in hand to the one place where he knew there was money – Walsford Farm.

  Having engineered an ‘accidental’ meeting with Maurice Holloway in a lane near the farm, Burdett feigned surprise when Maurice blanked him completely. Burdett suggested that, now the two men were brothers-in-law, they should put aside their differences for Trixie’s sake, but Maurice was having none of it. When Burdett went on to ask him for a small loan, Maurice accused him of crawling to him like a coward, as he must have done during the war.

  Enraged by the insult, Burdett lost his temper and began to bluster about how Maurice should be horsewhipped for his insolence. He went on to tell Maurice that, if he knew what was good for him, he would hand over some money immediately.

  Maurice’s response was to swing his fist at Burdett, landing a punch on his jaw that sent him sprawling onto the muddy lane. As Maurice walked away without a backward glance, Burdett was forced to pick himself up and go home to his wife empty-handed.

  Trixie knew nothing of the couple’s poverty, although she was about to find out. She was shopping in Wimborne when the shopkeeper hesitantly suggested that she should settle her outstanding account. Trixie discovered that Frank had been booking items from several local shopkeepers in her name, probably under the impression that she would be able to obtain money from her father to pay the bills. She made up her mind to speak to her husband but, when she arrived home, she found Frank in a deep depression and was afraid of upsetting him further.

  Hence, she said nothing but instead set about preparing supper while Burdett, who told her that he had a headache, went out for a walk on the pretext of getting some fresh air. Instead, he went straight to Walsford Farm, this time seeking out Thomas Holloway and begging him for a loan. Holloway ignored him completely, refusing to even acknowledge his presence.

  Surprisingly, Burdett’s black mood had cleared by the time he got home and he was unusually talkative as he and Trixie ate their supper. However, at one point during the meal, he threatened to kill his wife if she ever went back to Walsford Farm. Startled, Trixie turned to look at him, to see him laughing as though the threat had been intended as a joke.

  Later that evening, the two went out for a walk, by chance meeting an old acquaintance. In conversation, Frank casually asked the man if he might borrow his shotgun to do some hunting, professing himself to be bored hanging round the house and suggesting that the fresh air would do him good. Concerned that her husband might be contemplating suicide, Trixie tried to indicate that the man should refuse but, oblivious to Trixie’s frantic head shaking and gesturing behind her husband’s back, the man agreed to let Burdett have a gun and some ammunition.

  Rather than suicide, Frank had another plan. Waiting until he knew that all the men folk at Walsford Farm would be absent, his next scheme was to visit Louise and ask her for money. Softhearted Louise could not bear the thought that her daughter might be impoverished and, ignoring her husband’s instructions, handed over the sum of £18 from her life savings (more than £800 at today’s value). Yet the money provided nothing more than a temporary prop and, before too long, Trixie and Frank were destitute again.

  On 30 October 1930, Trixie woke in the early hours of the morning to find her husband getting dressed. When she asked him where he was going, he told her that he was unable to sleep and was going for a walk, promising to be back in half an hour. When he had not returned in forty-five minutes, a worried Trixie rang the police, telling them that her husband had gone out and that she was concerned about him.

 
; As she put the telephone down, she noticed a stark white envelope propped up on the sideboard, the word ‘WILL’ written on the front. When she opened it, she found a brief note in Frank’s handwriting inside: ‘The time has come to end everything. I am going to do away with myself. I leave everything to my wife’.

  Trixie hurriedly dressed and set off for the only place she could think of where Frank might have gone – Walsford Farm.

  There, the morning chores were about to begin. Thomas had just woken Alfred, since it was his turn to milk the sixty dairy cows. As Alfred got out of bed and began to get dressed, he suddenly heard a commotion coming from his parent’s bedroom – a shout from his father, a scream from his mother, then the unmistakeable sound of two gunshots. Sprinting along the landing, Alfred tried the door of his mother and father’s room but there seemed to be something inside that was preventing the door from opening. Eventually, Alfred managed to open the door just enough to put his head round it and found himself staring into the double barrels of a shotgun held by a demented Frank Burdett.

  ‘I’ll do for the whole f****** lot of you!’ screamed Burdett, his face contorted with rage. ‘I will have you all, one at a time.’

  Alfred had no reason to doubt his words. Slamming the bedroom door shut, he took off as fast as he could. Rousing his brothers as he went, he left the house and headed for a neighbour’s smallholding to call the police. Meanwhile, his three brothers concealed themselves about the farm.