Photo by Peter Williams at Halloween Brighton Telltales.
Warning: this tragic tale is not for the fainthearted
Have you ever been to Sovereign Harbour in Eastbourne? A housing estate that is built on a stretch of beach that was once known as the Crumbles, a wild stretch that marked the boundary between Eastbourne and Pevensey. One hundred years ago, in 1924, the "Butcher of Crumbles" committed a horrific murder. For this Halloween, I invite you to listen to this dark and sobering tale.
Patrick Mahon was a young man in his 30s, married with two children. Outwardly pleasant and charming, he was really a wolf in sheep's clothing. He was a philanderer and would use aliases to charm women. In spring of 1924, he met Emily Kaye, a 37-year-old single woman living and working in London. They started dating, and she quickly became enamoured. He promised her the world, and when she became pregnant three months into their relationship, she was over the moon.
Now, Patrick had introduced himself as Derek Peterson. He'd given an alias and was pretending to be someone he was not. He didn't tell her about his wife and two children. Instead, he promised they would be married and start a new life together in South Africa. He knew Emily had substantial savings of £30,000 (in today's money), and she was quickly spending it on what she thought was their future together.
Patrick persuaded Emily to rent a cottage on the beach in Eastbourne at the Crumbles. This little bungalow, with its yellow patterned rose wallpaper and lace curtains, was known as the "Officers House," a simple yet cosy retreat before their supposed move to South Africa.
Emily went ahead, and a few days later, Patrick arrived, carrying a Gladstone bag. Little did she know that inside the bag was a tenon saw and a long chef's knife. Patrick had no intention of marrying Emily; he was already married, and he was after her money, as she had over £30,000 in savings (in today’s money).
They started having arguments when Emily tried to talk about the future. One evening in the living room of the cottage, a great argument ensued as a storm brewed outside. Emily was shouting, Patrick was shouting, and then his hands were around her neck. She struggled, and then he picked up a large iron fire poker and struck her to the floor. She hit her head and died instantly.
Now, Patrick, surveying the scene, knew what he had to do. He put on a large apron and retrieved the saw and knife from his Gladstone bag. With the saw, he began to sever Emily's head, arms, legs, and feet. Then, he stoked the fire, throwing her limbs onto it. He proceeded to disembowel her, removing various organs. He stuffed her heart inside a biscuit tin and put the remaining organs in a trunk with her initials. He then cut up more pieces of flesh and boiled them in a pot in the kitchen. He disposed of more pieces in a hat box. Imagine the police coming to this horror and discovering Emily's heart in a biscuit tin!
Patrick had no intention of being discovered. Once the fire had burned out overnight, he took a dustpan and brush and swept up the ashes and bone fragments, digging a pit in the garden where he deposited them. He wrapped some body parts in Emily's silk underwear and placed them inside the Gladstone bag. He washed off the blood and spatter that remained around the living room. Once he was certain everything was in order, he took the Gladstone bag and caught the train back to London.
At Waterloo Station, he placed the bag inside a luggage deposit box. On the train to London, he'd opened the bag and thrown the body parts out the window. Then, he resumed a semblance of normality. He briefly went home and left again. He even started dating another woman, taking her out to the theatre.
Meanwhile, his wife had become suspicious of his long absences, supposedly for work. She thought he might have a woman on the side, so she hired a private detective. Finding the key to a luggage deposit box in his coat pocket, she passed it on to the detective. He went to investigate and, upon finding the Gladstone bag and seeing what looked like human blood inside, passed it on to Scotland Yard.
Forensic tests showed it was indeed human blood, and so began the investigation into the "Butcher of Crumbles." The detectives eventually found their way to the Officer's House on Crumbles Beach, and it didn't take long to start finding the body parts hidden about the house. In all, over 900 fragments of flesh and bone were retrieved, but no one could find Emily's severed head.
Patrick was arrested. Although he admitted to manslaughter, he claimed the death had been an accident during a struggle. He said Emily was unhappy knowing he was already married, that he had refused to marry her despite her pregnancy and that they would not be going to South Africa after all. But in fact, Patrick had presented Emily with an engagement ring.
The case went to trial and drew crowds during the investigations. Hundreds of people came to picnic on the beach surrounding the cottage, watching the detectives come and go in the search for the missing head. A local psychic, Nell John Montague, who had a summer house at Seaford and was a celebrity clairvoyant during the 1920s, was called in. She claimed she could locate the head and other missing parts. As soon as she stepped into the cottage, across the threshold of the door that led into the living room, her crystal ball immediately fogged over with a red mist, and she had a vision of a dog digging in the garden and recovering bones. When the police dogs were called in, Emily's bones were found in the exact location that Nell had seen in her vision.
The trial continued during August 1924, and on the 5th of August, the jury found Patrick Mahon guilty of first-degree murder. He still protested his innocence, and so he would appeal. But on the 3rd of September 1924, Patrick was hanged at Wandsworth Prison by the famous hangman Pierrepoint.
Some say if you walk the streets of Sovereign Harbour as a storm is beginning to brew, you may hear on the wind the screams and cries coming from the severed head of Emily Kaye.
Poor Emily, what a tragic tale. I hope her tortured soul finds peace this Samhain.
Wishing you a peaceful week ahead at this time when the veil is at its thinnest.
With love
Serena xxx
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