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    Criminal Wirral II
    Criminal Wirral II
    Criminal Wirral II
    Ebook164 pages1 hour

    Criminal Wirral II

    By Dan Longman

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    About this ebook

    This is an intriguing and entertaining collection of some of the strangest, most despicable, and comical crimes that took place on the Wirral peninsula throughout the Victorian era and the early 20th century. The tales featured here uncover many fascinating cases that have been long forgotten, and are supported by illustrations which help to bring these events and the people featured in them to life. Read on and uncover the grisly facts of what once lay floating in Birkenhead Park pond, a gruesome suicide on board a Woodside-bound locomotive, and the farcical actions of a drunken butler one night at the stately Thurstaston Hall Criminal Wirral II will appeal to anyone who has an interest in the darker side of Wirral’s history.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThe History Press
    Release dateMay 5, 2009
    ISBN9780750953450
    Criminal Wirral II

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      Book preview

      Criminal Wirral II - Dan Longman

      2009

      LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS

      One night in the year 1890 the then popular seaside resort of New Brighton was malformed into a lurid stage for a murder that stunned the nation. The town was renowned far and wide for its bright and breezy atmosphere, but it was thrust into the public spotlight when a grisly crime created a more macabre mood.

      Felix Spicer was a retired mariner. At sixty years of age he should have been happily settling down and enjoying his later years, but this was not to his character. On the contrary he felt as young as ever and even had a two-year-old son. Little Tom Spicer was an adorable wee lad who idolised his older siblings: Felix, William, Gertrude, Annie, Ethel and Harry. Their mother, Mary, was originally from Wales and a youthful thirty-one years of age. She ran a small café at 3 Birkley Parade in Victoria Road, catering for the thousands of tourists and amusement-seekers the town was famous for. To the outside world the Spicers seemed a perfectly happy family; adorable children, a comfortable home and a loving marriage. But things were not as rosy as they seemed.

      The Monday after Easter week saw Mary take the day off to ride the ferry to Liverpool, leaving her husband in charge of the café. He was quite competent in managing it and had done so on numerous occasions without any problems. On closing up at the end of the day, Felix put the day’s takings safe upon a shelf in the kitchen, happy with a hard days work. Mary returned to the café later that evening and put the money deep into her dress pocket.

      ‘Leave that money there!’ Spicer snapped.

      ‘It does not take two to take the money,’ she snapped back. A clash of raised voices saw Mary prevail as she asserted her rightful authority. ‘You have no business here. I am mistress.’

      There had been frequent bouts of bickering regarding her husband’s place in the business ever since his return from sea the previous September. Felix wished to include his name above the door and be manager but Mary objected. The quarrel persisted until Mary’s patience finally snapped and she refused to go back with Felix to their home at 18 Richmond Street, saying that she had had enough of him and was going to sleep instead at the café.

      New Brighton, as shown on a map from the early 1900s.

      ‘Fine!’ Felix shouted, and stormed off home in a huff. He was a terribly stubborn man, much to his own occasional detriment. The argument played on the old man’s mind all night and he just couldn’t let the issue lie.

      The following morning Felix made his way round to the café to have some more stern words with his wife. How dare she speak to him like that? He had a sly card up his sleeve. The old mariner strolled into the shop with a proud swagger and beckoned Mary over with a wrinkled hand.

      ‘You told me last night I had no business here. I will show you who is master!’ The seaman cleared his throat. ‘My name is Felix Spicer, but there is no such name as Mary Spicer!’

      Mary was mortified. The landlord, Mr Wright, was in full earshot and was more than a little surprised to hear Felix’s claim. It became startlingly clear to all present that after all their years together the Spicer’s had never actually married. Mary’s cheeks burned bright red with a dangerous mix of embarrassment and pure hatred. It wasn’t long before a policeman had to be called to the scene and separate the feuding pair as Mary went berserk. On the sergeant’s advice Felix left the café to calm down and give Mary some space to compose herself. The old mariner expected his wife to return home and make up in a matter of hours, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. She was adamant in her refusal to go home and quite content to stay at the café, well out of the way of the man whom she had now come to detest. Her own customers were gossiping in hushed tones, but anything was better than living with the horrible man who had caused her so much embarrassment.

      Victoria Road, the location of Mary’s café, as seen in 1902.

      Felix was equally keen not to lose face. That was, however, until the following Saturday, when his stubbornness finally subdued. He popped a letter into the refreshment rooms asking Miss Palin, as Mary was now known, whether he would be allowed to work at the café again for Whit week. It was really just a ploy to get back into her good books in a far-fetched hope to rekindle their sham marriage. The reply stated in no uncertain terms that Mary did not want him working there, not on Whit week or any other week. She never wanted to see him again. As far as she was concerned he was out of her life for good and his warm-hearted plan had failed. However, this was just a minor setback and Spicer supposed that a personal visit would make the woman see sense. At half-past nine that night Felix put on his coat and knocked on the door to the café. He was met with the unloving sound of a bolt fastening and a softly spoken yet strict reply of, ‘I can’t. I’m undressing.’

      ‘Open the door Mary, please.’

      ‘Go home Felix, just leave me alone. Good night!’

      Felix begged her to let him in so that they could talk but she wouldn’t budge. The old man was forced to return home alone to Richmond Street, feeling miserably rejected and alone. He chatted with his son, William, and a lodger by the name of Alfred Short, whilst trying his best to appear cheerful, but his mind was preoccupied. It was getting late and Spicer put the children to bed. ‘Good night,’ he said lovingly, before giving each one a kiss on the forehead. He gently closed the bedroom doors and left the youngsters to drift peacefully off to sleep.

      At about midnight, a lodger and waitress at the café, Ann Fraser, arrived home from work. She had witnessed first-hand the terrible effects the breakdown of the relationship had been having upon the couple and it was she who often had to tolerate both party’s stressful mood swings. Mrs Fraser noticed Felix and nursemaid Maria Fearon having heated words in the kitchen and thought it best to keep out of the way. ‘Good night,’ Ann waved coyly as she began heading up to her room. ‘Night,’ replied Mr Spicer gruffly. ‘I’m going to sit up for a lodger and sleep on the sofa.’ Ann thought he seemed irritable, but that was the norm nowadays and she paid no real attention to it. The argument between the bad-tempered householder and his staff steadily escalated and the noise of the confrontation woke up Mr Short, who had been trying to sleep upstairs. Maria was sent to bed as Felix’s nerves could no longer cope with the aggravation. He was an old man who was already suffering from some serious stress and he genuinely feared a heart attack or some sort of breakdown to be just around the corner.

      As the night drew on the house began to settle down and its varied members fell into deep sleeps. The lodgers, children and nursemaid were all out like a light. Felix Spicer, however, was not. The hours ticked by and with every minute Mr Spicer’s mind became more and more disjointed. Who would want a retired sixty-year-old with the burden of young children? How could Mary be so callous? If he couldn’t win her back then there was nothing worth living for.

      These thoughts danced about forebodingly in his brain. By three o’clock in the morning Felix had worked himself into such a state that he had lost all sense of normality and rational thought. He acquired a knife, six inches long and razor sharp, and headed up the stairs. With a gentle turn of the handle he pushed open the door into William and Harry’s bedroom and edged in. Snug in their beds their father saw them sleeping softly, top to tail on the single mattress. The fourteen-year-old’s neck was soon in contact with the wooden-handled blade as it sliced through William’s windpipe. The shock caused the lad to bolt upright from his peaceful slumber. Blood splattered out in a semicircle across the bed sheets, surging forth from a stalk of severed veins. As he struggled, his gargled cries awoke his younger brother. Within a minute the toddler too was dead; blood dripping from similar wounds across his tender throat. In another room eight-year-old Gertrude had been disturbed by the commotion. ‘What’s the matter?’ she called out with a yawn.

      ‘Nothing. Go to sleep and shut up,’ Spicer hissed, and he made his way downstairs and out of the house.

      Over in the refreshment rooms Mary Palin was oblivious to the very recent loss of two of her children as she slept alone in her improvised bed. It was about half-past three when the silence of the dark, lonely streets of New Brighton were broken by hard hammering upon the door and the sudden smash of window glass. Mary awoke with a fright and jumped out of bed in her nightclothes. A bearded Felix was trying to break in downstairs and she saw him reach through the broken window pane with a bloodstained arm, desperately feeling the lock for a key. There was no key, so Felix punched in a second pane and attempted to climb through it. Fear swam through Mary’s whole body. Her unhinged ex was after her and she had to escape fast. The woman’s survival instincts took over and she fled towards the first broken window, away from Felix, and began climbing out onto the parade. Her

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