Midgley, having finished his shift at the hotel, returned to his lodgings. He arrived at about 3 pm and was in the hallway, sorting through a pile of letters on the table. He then heard groans and went to their source, in the basement, by the kitchen door. It was there that he found his landlady. She was unconscious and huddled up, her face covered with blood. He then left the house to telephone for an ambulance and returned 20 minutes later.
Kellaway arrived at the house between 3.30 and 4 pm. He said to his landlady, ‘What’s the matter, Mrs Goodall?’ The only other occupant of the house that afternoon had been Patrick McDonall, a travelling postal worker, and he had been asleep in the daytime so had heard nothing. None of the other tenants, mostly clerks, were in the house until the evening. Mrs Goodall had her wounds dressed by the ambulance men and was then taken to the London Temperance Hospital, being admitted at 4 pm. She had sustained serious injuries to the head, with a fractured skull.
At the scene of the crime, there was blood on the stairs and at the top of the landing was a shoe, a woollen cap which Mrs Goodall usually wore in the house, and three hair combs.
The hospital staff asked her how she had been injured. She said, ‘A stranger came about a room. I proceeded him downstairs, when he struck me three times on the head.’ Yet she admitted to Sister Ellie Bowers, ‘I think I fell downstairs’. She also talked about a quarrel with a lodger, who was a stranger to her, and used the word ‘bash’ several times. How much weight should be put upon these words? She was described as being in a dazed and confused condition at the time of these utterances. When pressed for more details, she said, ‘Go away, I want some sleep.’
Mrs Goodall died in hospital on 25 December. Dr John Pinkerton said that the cause of death was laceration of the brain, caused by severe wounds to the top and back of the head. These may have been caused by a fall on two separate occasions, but the injury to the top of the head might have been the result of a blow by a blunt instrument. One witness said that the deceased was subject to giddy fits and so might have fallen down the stairs.
The police thought that the man or men who were interested in the vacant rooms might have useful information. They appealed for them or anyone who knew of them, to come forward so that their identity could be established. Anyone who had seen a person leaving the house between 12.30 and 3pm should also come forward. Superintendent Hammett of Albany Street Police Station was named as being the principal point of contact. Yet the theory of prospective lodgers was queried by Hanna Granger, a servant, who had seen Mrs Goodall on the morning of the tragedy. According to her, the old lady had not spoken to her of any such new tenants, and that was something she would normally have mentioned.
The inquest began on Saturday afternoon of 27 December, at St Pancras Coroner’s Court before Sir Walter Schroder. John William Kemperton, a builder and decorator of Paddington, made the formal identification of his deceased sister. He added that he thought she had some jewellery, but no silver plate, and that she lived alone, save for the lodgers. Midgley told how he found the body and Kellaway told what he knew, suggesting Mrs Goodall had an appointment with prospective tenants on that day. The inquest was then adjourned.
One possible clue was a pair of rubber gloves, which were found at the scene of the crime. Kellaway said he had never seen them before. However, there was a divergence of views as to whether these gloves were ones worn by ladies or by electricians. When questioned, Adams denied that he had rubber gloves. Two lodgers stated that they had seen Mrs Goodall wear them when doing the housework.
A number of witnesses came forward. One was Cecil Wiltshire, a milkman, who remembered seeing, at about a quarter to one, a tall man of medium build wearing a blue overcoat and a grey cap leaving the house. This may have been Adams. George Martin of Hampstead Road told the police that a 30-year-old man, five feet five inches in height and with an American accent, had called at his house on 10 December, asking for Mrs Goodall’s address.
Although Adams contacted the police on 29 December about his visit to the house on the day of the murder, he seems to have become the leading suspect. He was newly married and had one child. His workshop at Litchfield Road was searched and a hammer, with red stains on it, was found there. However, on examination, these were found not to be blood. His clothes and other instruments were also investigated, but again, nothing incriminating could be found.
Hampstead Road, 2008. Author’s collection
Adams was an epileptic. He had first had a fit in 1918 and had been treated at St George’s Hospital. Views on Adams varied. One Charles Courtney, a caterer, stated that Adams was ‘a very highly strung young man and very exciteable’ and ‘quick tempered’. Nellie Pickford had heard Adams threaten to kill his father, who had once been in prison, and that his father was concerned about his son. However, Effie Whyman, though agreeing that he was quick tempered and argumentative, said he was not violent. After an examination, Dr Maughan pronounced:
This man is mentally backward and mentally unstable…. He gets depressed and cries at times. He wants to wrestle after a ‘fit’ and may act violently if drunk or annoyed. Consciousness is partially suspended at times, though he goes on with his walk or work … I feel strongly that this man should be under observation. There was nothing in my examination of the man last night that would justify me in ruling out the possibility, the probability of the man having used violence towards the woman.
Kellaway suspected the Indian ex-lodger, as he had a grudge against Mrs Goodall. Yet he spent the day of the crime with two Indian doctors, who were prepared to give him an alibi. It also seems rather extreme to commit murder over the fact that she ejected him from his lodgings and was not eager to return his photograph that he had left behind.
The police also received a curious letter about the murder, which was postmarked Wandsworth at 3.15 pm on 9 January 1925. It read:
Sir – I confess to the murder of Mrs Grace Goodall, on December 23. This has preyed on my mind since that awful day. Mr Churn who was with me threatens to murder me so I am resolved to end it all. Good Luck to the Police.
Stanley Williams.
The police were unable to follow up this clue, if indeed it was a clue and not the work of hoaxers, who are all too common following an unsolved murder.
Oddly enough, there is no reference to Mrs Goodall’s husband being questioned, if only as a matter of routine. Surely he must have been, but there is no surviving record of this.
The inquest was concluded after four sessions, the final one being on 1 February. The verdict was that this was a case of murder by person or persons unknown. It was never solved, but there seem to be three distinct possibilities as to who might have been responsible. First, Adams might have been guilty. He was the last man who was definitely known to have seen Mrs Goodall alive. He was known to be argumentative and violent. He had had an argument with her and was certainly disappointed about not being given the work that he believed she had promised him. As against that, he did contact the police without having had to, and there was no direct evidence against him, in the form of forensic evidence or witnesses. Secondly, could Kellaway have been responsible? He certainly had a strong motive, as he stood to inherit Mrs Goodall’s property (and did indeed do so), worth £635 17s 11d. He also was in the house about the time of the murder and could have attacked Mrs Goodall after Adams left. Yet the same objections apply; there was nothing directly against him. Finally, if we take the victim’s own testimony as being accurate, then the killer was the man who came in answer to the advert about a room being let. Quite why he killed her is a mystery, however, and there is no obvious motive for such a random attack. Theft does not seem to have been the reason for her death. Perhaps he was mentally unbalanced. Of the three possibilities, this seems the least improbable, but it does not lead us to the identity of the guilty party.
CHAPTER 9
The Poisoned Egg Merchant, 1926
He simply behaved like a madman all the time
Kusel Behr h
ad been born in Lithuania in about 1878. In 1909 he married one Minda, aged 33, in Latzkov, Lithuania. They travelled around the world for a few years; to America, South Africa and Shanghai, before settling in London in 1916. Here, they acquired a permanent address at Lyndale Hall, ‘a very large residence’ on Finchley Road, Hampstead. He made his money in a partnership with Samuel (1871–1942), his elder brother, importing eggs from Europe and China to sell in Britain, presumably on a very large scale. From 1916 to 1920, they had been partners with the Matthew family, but the latter were bought out in 1920. In pursuit of this business, the two brothers often travelled widely and the business had branches in Berlin, Paris, Hamburg and Shanghai. Behr and Minda had four children; two boys, aged 15 and 16, a daughter living with them, Ethel aged 13, and a younger girl aged 9. They had at least three servants; Annie Gaffney, a parlour maid who had been in their employ since February 1925, Hannah Russ, a cook, and one Anna Zabrodoff, a Russian governess, who looked after their children, and had done so since 1918, after she fled from the Bolsheviks. Behr had a high opinion of Zabrodoff. The Behrs were well off, for they could also afford to employ nurses when required and had a telephone at home. Unlike most people in this book, this was an affluent middle-class family and at death Behr left over £20,000.
Yet, just the same, tragedy was to strike the family. Behr returned home one afternoon; probably on 17 March 1926, the same day that his wife also returned home, after having spent some time at a nursing home. He was complaining of a cold in his head and shivered. After dinner he went to bed, remaining there for the following week. Dr Jacob Gavronsky called on Behr on 18 March, following Mrs Behr’s concern at her husband’s screams. Behr complained of stiffness and spasms in his legs. He could not use his feet. The doctor’s examination did not uncover any organic injuries. However, the pains in his back and limbs led Gavronsky to conclude that these were symptoms of some kind of irritation of the central nervous system. Two other doctors were summoned and injections of morphine were given.
Although bronchial pneumonia developed, Behr’s condition seemed stable for the next few days. The doctors concluded that he had quite recovered and only needed a little rest. However, on 19 March, Behr had vomited small pieces of orange and water. He also took sleeping tablets and drank brandy.
Behr was not neglected. A succession of nurses was employed over the next few days. Violet Robinson was employed on 19 March. She recalled that Behr complained of pains at the top of the spine. He also suffered from spasms, with intervals of a quarter of an hour. Yet he did not look ill. The next nurse was Margery Cassidy and recalled that he had not suffered from spasms and gave her no account of her illness. From 20 to 29 March, Florence Macknow was responsible for his care. She noticed the spasms, but also the periods of calm and thought he seemed well. However, Behr was very nervous about the attacks. Hannah Russ, the cook, thought Behr seemed to be improving.
Finchley Road. Author’s collection
The illness was seen as being potentially serious. On 20 March, Behr’s brother, who was abroad, was sent a telegram to request he come home. He arrived in London on 28 March and visited his unfortunate brother, whom he had not seen for some time. He too thought that his brother did not look ill.
The climax came on the morning of 31 March. Annie Gaffney made a pot of China tea from the tin in the kitchen for the family. She took Behr’s cup of tea upstairs to his bedroom. On the landing she met Mrs Behr, who, as was not unusual, took the cup from her and went into the bedroom with it. Tea from the same pot was given to Mrs Behr for one of her sons (she did not see the son drink the tea), but Mrs Behr herself drank hot water. The cups were later collected by Annie. She recalled hearing Behr moaning that morning.
Anna Zabrodoff was summoned by Mrs Behr at about half past eight that morning and she went to the bedroom. Behr was screaming and was clutching the mattress with both hands. These screams were also heard by Ethel, and they woke her up at about eight. She went to her parents’ bedroom. Behr called for his doctor and his brother. Anna was then told by Mrs Behr to contact Samuel Behr on the telephone, urging him to ‘Hurry, or you will be too late’. Samuel did arrive too late, but Mrs Behr was with her husband at the time of death soon afterwards. By that time, Behr was screaming again and Anna left the room because of that. Ethel also rang for Dr Gavronsky.
Dr Robert Bronte, in the presence of Gavronsky, examined the body. There were no signs of external violence or of any irritant poison. Microscopic spots of blood were examined, as was spinal fluid. After three days he was still unable to ascertain the cause of death. One early opinion was that death was due to influenza.
The inquest began on 3 April before Sir Walter Schroeder, but was adjourned, first to 8 April and then to 20 May, in order to give time for a thorough examination of the dead man’s organs. It could then be revealed by Dr Bronte that the real cause of death was strychnine poisoning. Two grains were found in the body, though a quarter of a grain might be enough to have killed him. Anna attested that she did not think Behr took drugs or strychnine.
Detective Inspector Hambrooke and his men had searched the house, but the results had been inconclusive. This was despite finding a variety of bottles, boxes and phials containing drugs in the bedroom. Yet they did uncover a quantity of strychnine in a bottle of gin, which had been placed on a table for the inspector and a colleague to drink. According to Dr Bronte, strychnine tablets might have been dissolved in this gin. A bottle of Endometricitis, with chocolate-coloured pills which contained strychnine, was also found. There had also been enquiries at all the chemists and druggists within 15 miles of Charing Cross to find if anyone connected with the Behrs had purchased strychnine there, but no record of any such purchase could be found. Perhaps it had been bought using an assumed name or from outside that radius.
Summing up, the coroner noted that Dr Bronte had concluded that the poison had been administered on the morning of 31 March. Apparently five minutes would elapse between the administering of the poison and the first symptoms. Death would follow within 20–30 minutes. The only known beverage consumed by Behr on that morning was the cup of tea. If that was the case, then that narrows down the list of suspects to Annie, the parlour maid, and Mrs Behr, and the latter would seem far more likely.
An examination of the will might have revealed a number of possible suspects, namely those who benefited financially from Behr’s demise. As said, he was a rich man, whose gross estate was worth £21,260, after death duties £16,260, which was still not a sum to be sniffed at. This will had been made in July 1925. His executors were his brother and one William Ward Higgs, a City solicitor. However, this fortune did not simply pass to one individual as a lump sum. The bulk of it (two-thirds) was divided into four equal quarters, to be held in trust for his four children until they reached the age of 30. They would then receive the capital, which would have been augmented in the interim by interest the sum would have gained. The remaining third was to be invested and the interest paid to a charity, at his brother’s discretion, and Higgs would examine the annual accounts of the trust. A codicil granted £500 to Anna Zabrodoff. Interestingly, nothing was left to his wife, who later said, ‘I cannot understand why he has left me practically destitute.’
Relations between the Behrs were vexed (though the will was made before the quarrel). There had been a major row between the couple in October 1925. Mrs Behr wished to buy a car in her own name, but her husband refused. According to him, ‘she was inclined to be a bit extravagant and fond of a game of cards’. She said, ‘He simply behaved like a madman all the time’. Behr even attacked his wife, putting his hands around her neck until Anna arrived, slapped him on the face and he released his wife. In the following month, Mrs Behr, without informing anyone she was doing so, went abroad to Shanghai in order to sell some property of hers there. Due to the political instability there, she was unable to realize her assets, and was forced to request money from her husband. He had sent her the £300 required and so she returned home.
Behr met her at Cherbourg in February 1926, laden with gifts. She spent the next few weeks in a nursing home, only leaving on 17 March.
Others spoke of the couple’s domestic unhappiness, too. Behr’s bank manager claimed the ‘deceased had frequently spoken to him of his unhappiness with regard to his wife’. Max Kirschener, a timber dealer and neighbour, said there were quarrels, but that he did not want to leave her and that he loved his family. Yet there was no evidence of any infidelity on either part.
The servants also seemed to think that their master and mistress were contented. Annie Gaffney said, ‘Mr and Mrs Behr live happily together … I have heard of no quarrels or any trouble’. Their Russian governess, despite witnessing Behr attack his wife, nevertheless agreed, saying they ‘were devoted to each other … seemed and acted as though they were a newly married couple’. If his wife was responsible, and she did have the opportunity (the only drink he definitely had was his morning tea), presumably the motive was hatred of her husband or/and the hope of financial gain, assuming that she was unaware of the contents of his will.
Could Behr’s death have been the result of suicide or accident? He could either have put the pills in his tea or in another drink which no one else was aware that he had had. He was reported as being depressed and had health worries. Max Zausner, his departmental manager, said that his boss was unhealthy, had stomach pains and had problems sleeping, so took drugs to help him sleep. Furthermore, his brother recalled being told by him, ‘If I get another attack as have had I could not stand it any more’. Hambrooke also queried whether this was a case of murder, writing:
I have been unable to discover any reason why any person should administer the strychnine to the deceased in order to murder him, but on the other hand, it does, at present, seem that he was a man who took drugs and was at times depressed.
Unsolved London Murders Page 7