Nominated BEST BRITISH TRUE-CRIME PODCAST, 4th Best True-Crime Podcast by This Week, iTunes Top 25 Podcast, Podcast Magazine's Hot 50, The Telegraph's Top 5, Crime & Investigation Channel's Top 20 True-Crime Podcasts, also seen on BBC Radio, Sky News, The Guardian and TalkRadio's Podcast of the Week.
Entrance to the Chalk Pit today @Googlemaps2025 May2019
Welcome to the Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast and audio guided walk of London's most infamous and often forgotten murder cases, all set within and beyond London's West End.
EPISODE TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHT:
On Thursday 28th of November 1946, Australian politician Thomas Ley enlisted four good people to help him trap a bad man who terrorised women. As a simple plan with no law broken and nobody hurt, it was a gentlemanly reaction to a dastardly crime by a criminal who they felt deserved worse. Only what began as a good deed by four decent and moral people, soon descended into deceit and death.
THE LOCATION:
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SOURCES: a selection sourced from the news archives:
MUSIC:
UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile. Today, I’m standing in Beaufort Gardens in Knightsbridge, SW3; four streets west of the gay panic, three roads south of the killing of Churchill’s superspy, four streets south of the unsolved assassination of Countess Lubienska, and two roads north of the London cannibal - coming soon to Murder Mile. 5 Beaufort Gardens is one of 46 impressively grand five-storey townhouses worth £10 million-a-piece. Previously being a delightful des’ res’ to many a fop-haired dandy in a top hat and a dashing ‘tache, most are now merely tax write-offs for a faceless conglomerate of baddies, bankers and bastards. But the building’s front is not what’s of interest, as behind is its less glamourous rear end. Set just off the exclusive Brompton Road, Brompton Place is a painfully thin mews which rarely sees daylight and is barely big enough to park a van. As a service entrance for contractors and cleaners, it’s featureless and flat with crumbling paint and a series of vague doors leading to the bowels of these grand houses. On Thursday 28th of November 1946, the ground floor, first floor and basement were being extensively renovated by a troop of burly builders at the behest of its owner, the Australian politician Thomas Ley. With the Police unable or unwilling to assist, as a solicitor, he enlisted four good people to help him trap a bad man who terrorised women. It would be a simple plan with no law broken and nobody hurt. It was a gentlemanly reaction to a dastardly crime by a criminal who they felt deserved worse. Only what began as a good deed by four decent and moral people, soon descended into deceit and death. My name is Michael, I am your tour guide, and this is Murder Mile. Episode 288: The Chalk Pit Murder – Part One. Saturday 30th of November 1946 at 4pm. After days of rain, with the storm finally passing, 16-year-old Tom Coombs was out collecting firewood on Slines Oak Road near Woldingham in Surrey, an isolated country lane surrounded by wide fields, high hedges and few houses for as far as the eye could see. Entering the old chalk pit, a recently decommissioned British Army rifle range, the ground was sludgy as the thick grey clay stuck to his boots. It was slippery as he descended the hill, but this wasn’t what made him to stop. “it looked like a bundle of rags… a dummy, with its legs sticking out of the trench”. Alerting his father, with a dead body found, the police were dispatched. Barely a year since the war had ended, detectives had seen many-a-scene such as this, as with soldiers coming home traumatised to find their families dead and their jobs gone, suicide was all too common. The man was in his mid-30s, handsome, fair-haired, blue-eyed, 5 foot 7 inches tall and 10 stone, with an autopsy later conducted by Dr Eric Gardner showing no signs of disease or natural death. Dressed in a neat but well-worn tweed overcoat, blue shirt and tie, with grey jacket, trousers and waistcoat, he was clean shaven as if looking for work, yet somehow he’d ended up here, 18 miles from London. Dead for two days, without disturbing the body, Detective Superintendents Roberts and King searched his pockets; £27 in notes and coins ruled out a robbery, a book titled ‘100 Cocktails’ suggested he had been or was going to a party as he had five packs of Players cigarettes with two still full, there was no suicide note which isn’t uncommon as gripped by depression the only thought he may have had was his death, as well as a comb, a pencil, a bus ticket from Reigate to somewhere but here and his ID card. His name was John Mudie, and that’s all they knew about him for now. It had all the hallmarks of a suicide; a noose made of ply Jute had been tied around his neck, his face was purple, his eyes bloodshot, and his organs and skin dotted with pinprick haemorrhages. He was fit and strong, and with no defensive wounds nor alcohol or drugs in his blood, lynching was ruled out. It had hints of sadomasochism, as green (odd smelling) cloth was entwined with the noose possibly to prevent rubbing, his trousers were unbuttoned, he wore no underpants, and there was evidence of seminal fluid at his crotch, but why would someone travel somewhere so remote for a sexual thrill? Dr Keith Simpson, the Home Office pathologist later stated ”this is a case of death by hanging… but whether homicidal or suicidal, I cannot say”, as there were several things which didn’t make sense. The body was found in a 6 foot long by 1 foot and 7 inch wide trench, previously used by troops as a latrine, but an axe found nearby showed it had recently been used to widen the grave. It was the right size for him, but the detectives had never seen an incidence of a suicidal man digging his own grave. It wasn’t impossible, just odd. As were the asphyxiation marks around his neck which proved it took him 15 minutes to die, and yet, with the trench being at the base of a barren hill, the only trees in sight were too small to hold his weight, and at the nearest buildings - a pumping station and a Engineer’s cottage 100 feet away – the owners saw and heard nothing and there was no evidence of any hanging. It didn’t seem like a murder, but the Police knew that someone else had to be involved, maybe it was a sex game which went wrong, or someone had found him hanging, panicked and tried to bury him. They knew this; as after his death, the rope had been cut into four pieces; it was impossible for him to have hung himself in or near the trench as rigor mortis had begun to set in before he was laid there; it had rained for days making the grey clay soil boggy yet his brown canvas shoes were neat and clean; and with mud smears on the front of his clothes, somebody had dragged him, possibly from the road. The police and the pathologists were stumped, it looked like a suicide, but they couldn’t confirm where it had happened or how. It wasn’t a robbery, a lynching or an assault, yet it didn’t look like a murder. The only way to discover the truth was to trace the victim’s last steps before he ended up dead. But who was he? Born on the 1st of July 1911 in the Scottish county of Fife, John McMain Mudie known as Jack was the middle child of five siblings who was described as “quiet and inoffensive”. Said to be handsome with soft fair hair and beautiful eyes, he had an easy way with the ladies, but was always faithful to his wife. Enlisted as a Corporal in the Royal Army Medical Corps, he served in Italy and Libya, his military record described him as “exemplary… well-balanced and happy”, but burdened by flat feet, he didn’t fight in any large scale conflicts, and therefore he had no injuries and didn’t suffer from shell shock or nerves. Those who knew him said “he was the last person to have an enemy” and “he wasn’t a sexual pervert”. In July 1942, aged 31, he married his sweetheart Jean and they had a son, and although he dreamed of building a nice little home for his family, while he was serving overseas, Jean met another man, she got pregnant, and although John tried to take her back, his heart was broken and the couple split. He was devasted, but as his brother would later state, “he was upset, but not the kind to take his life”. He tried his best to keep the family together, and even got a job as a debt collector at Pearl Assurance, but in April 1946 his wife left him taking the kids to Glasgow, and a month later, he moved to London. By all accounts, he was honest, decent and he didn’t have a criminal record. But then again, the post-war years were tough for everyone. In July, he got his first job as a cellarman at the Dog & Fox pub in Wimbledon, where the bar manager Arthur Rouse described him as “quiet, not particularly bright but industrious”, and said “Mudie was badly in need of work… he had very little money and out of the £1 10s a week he earned here, he paid 27s 6d for a bed in a boarding house” at 3 Homefield Road a few streets away, “and he saved 3s a week by having a cup of tea at work”, he was so broke he hardly ate. After four weeks, he resigned as a better paying job as a barman in Reigate came up, and although £50 in stock had gone missing from the pub, said to be a decent fellow, they couldn’t prove it was him. In June 1946, he started work at the Reigate Hill Hotel, where – as a professional barman - he was liked and trusted by the bosses, the staff and the customers. He lived on-site, he earned a good wage, he didn’t gamble, he was always happy, and his only vice was as a heavy smoker of Player’s cigarettes. Five months later, on his day off, instead of taking his girlfriend Euphemia McGill to the cinema… …he seems to have dug a grave and then hung himself in an isolated chalk pit in Surrey. Investigating his last known movements, Detective Sergeant Frederick Shoobridge searched his room at the Reigate Hill Hotel. It was small, sparse with few possessions and nothing was expensive or fancy. He found nothing sinister or out of the ordinary, only a bog-standard letter from a firm of solicitors. Dated the 25th of July 1946 and sent to his last lodging at 3 Homefield Road in Wimbledon, it read “Dear Sir. On 19th of June 1946, our clients Connaught Properties sent to you a letter addressed to Mrs Byron Brook, one of their directors…”, asking for the return of some company cheques, “unless they are returned, our instructions are to proceed with recovery. Yours faithfully. Denton, Hall & Burgin”. The letter was written at their client’s behest, Mr Thomas Ley, a portly and out-of-shape 65-year old former Australian politician, solicitor and the Managing Director of Connaught Properties. Interviewed at his office at 5 Beaufort Gardens which was thick with builders, apologising for the noise, Mr Ley confirmed that the cheques hadn’t been returned, that Mudie hadn’t replied to his last letter and he was in the process of taking it to court. It was a minor civil matter being dealt with by his legal team. And with that, the investigation hit a brick wall. The police couldn’t find a reason why John Mudie had either hung himself, or why anyone would assist in his death. With no crime committed, it seemed like a simple miscommunication which had either been exacerbated or resolved by Mudie’s suicide… …yet, DS Shoobridge had stumbled upon a tale of blackmail, kidnapping and deception. Thomas Ley was impressive. Often misreferred to as Sir Thomas Ley, he was a political heavyweight who many in 1920s Australia saw as a future Prime Minister. As a Christian who was married and had two sons, he met his wife while she was fighting for women’s suffrage, as a teetotaller the public’s nickname for him was Lemonade Ley, and as a solicitor to the Supreme Court of New South Wales and MP for Hurstville, he rose through the ranks to become Minister for Justice in the State of Sydney and was elected as Nationalist Party of Australia member in the House of Representatives. But following his defeat in the 1928 election, Ley returned to England where he was born and set up his business. As a solicitor and co-director of Connaught Properties with Mrs Bryon Brook, who had previously lived with her daughter Jean in the same lodging house as John Mudie, with the Police unable (or unwilling) to intervene and with Mudie refusing to reply to the letters, Ley had concocted a gentlemanly reaction to this dastardly crime. It wasn’t legal and he risked a lot, but as he was too fat and sick to do it alone, if it was done right Mudie would be punished, Mrs Brook would get justice and no-one would get hurt. He needed four willing co-conspirators who would bend the law to do what was morally right. First was John William Buckingham, the 43-year-old owner of a car hire firm with access to stately-looking Wolseley saloon, vital to the plan. He had a minor conviction for theft 15 years earlier and had been clean ever since, and was described as a tall “all-in wrestler” who was “brutal looking with a cauliflower ear”, and would be there if Mudie got rough, as Ley had seen him be “violent and nasty”. Like the others, Buckingham was moral and had never done anything like this before, but hearing that “two ladies were being blackmailed, Ley wanted to get something on Mudie” – proof of his crimes. Second was Lawrence John Smith, he had no criminal record and only knew Thomas Ley, as being a 28-year-old joiner, since May he had been foreman of construction at the flat at 5 Beaufort Gardens. He was tall, strong and he being morally decent, he was appalled that Mudie was a blackmailer and weeks earlier “Ley had found Mrs Brook in a distressed state, as if she had been interfered with“. They would all be paid for their services in luring this blackmailer into the open, but for Smith, it wasn’t about the money, but “getting the brute who raped the old lady” to face justice. Mudie sickened them. He seemed so quiet, but the tales Ley told of his depravity – “he had sex with the daughter, then the mother, now they’re in a state of nerves” – only made them sicker, but they weren’t here to hurt him. Ley insisted “there’s to be no rough stuff… all you’ve got to do is get him to my office, and I’ll do the rest. He knows me so he can’t see me until then, otherwise he won’t come”. But how to lure him out? From what Ley had told them, Mudie was a charmer, he liked the ladies and was short on money. This wouldn’t be a honeytrap, but a money-trap, as the third co-conspirator was Lilian Florence Bruce, a 66-year-old married cook and housekeeper from Putney, who although a lower middle-class women, by wearing a nice dress, a fancy fur coat, some jewels, and her hair and make-up done, as an attractive older lady with the heirs and graces of a well-to-do woman, she could easily pass as a wealthy widow. Like the others, Mrs Bruce was moral and decent, a woman who had made a good life for herself with her bus driver husband, but knew she was doing right to stop Mudie from terrorising other women. Buckingham & Smith were the muscle if Mudie got nasty, Mrs Bruce was the bait to lure Mudie to London, and the Wolseley saloon (which Mrs Bruce owned) was the deception, but a posh lady doesn’t drive her own car. Needing someone they trusted, Buckingham’s son, John Junior was enlisted having been a chauffeur and driven that car many times before, and like his dad, he knew he was doing right. He even had a chauffeur’s uniform, a peaked cap, a valid licence and the right insurance to drive it. The plan was simple; on the day in question, the car would drive Mudie to the rear door of the flat, the chauffeur would lead them both into the passageway, she would make an excuse, return to the car and the chauffeur would drive her away. Smith & Buckingham would tie Mudie up in Ley’s office, make him sign the confession, and being given money and a plane ticket, he would be forced to leave the country with an assurance that he was never bother Mrs Brook or her daughter, and would never come back. As Ley said, “no laws were to be broken, and no-one was to be hurt”… …but somehow, somewhere, it all went horribly wrong. The autopsy of John McMain Mudie was conducted at Weybridge Hospital, the morning after his body was found in the chalk pit. His cause of death was “asphyxia from strangulation when suspended by a rope round the neck” consistent with suicide. But unlike with most hangings “there had been no drop”. A V-shaped strangulation mark beginning under his chin, rising passed his ears and ending up the midline of his skull proved that Mudie had been suspended for at least 15 minutes before he died by asphyxia, but someone had then cut him down, and dragged and (possibly) driven him to his freshly cut grave. After his death, “there was evidence of some rough handling, as shown by bruises on the head, hip and collar. He was dragged by his clothes, probably by the braces, he was flung down the hill fracturing two ribs and puncturing the skin on the blackthorns… and was pulled head-first into the trench”. Only then was the rope cut. But the rope wasn’t only a noose. With no defensive wounds and his right hand still in his pocket, this 12-foot long piece of ply jute which had later rucked up around his neck had also been used to tie him up. So how could he hang himself, if his hands were bound by his side? Someone had bound him, and with the green (odd smelling) cloth, they had gagged him. They knew this wasn’t a suicide, but was it a murder? The surveillance on Mudie by Smith & Buckingham went without a hitch, and keeping their distance, they weren’t seen or suspected. On 18th of November, 10 days prior, with the plan set, Ley withdrew £250 and then a further £300 in £1 notes to be paid once the blackmailer was delivered to Ley’s flat. With John as her chauffeur, under the alias of a wealthy widow, Mrs Bruce arrived at the Reigate Hill Hotel where she got acquainted with the barman, John Mudie, and on her second visit, she invited him on his day-off to be barman at a little cocktail soiree she was hosting her posh 5-storey townhouse in Knightsbridge. They agreed a fee, and he’d be picked up on Thursday 28th of November at 5:30pm. It was easy, he suspected nothing and as Ley had insisted, no one was hurt and no laws were broken. Everyone was nervous that day, but were buoyed by the knowledge they were doing what was right. At 4pm, Smith & Buckingham got to Ley’s flat at 5 Beaufort Gardens to finalise the plans, Buckingham was given a Yale key for the backdoor on Brompton Place to be handed to John Junior, and in a small 8hp Ford saloon that Smith had rented days before, they drove to the hotel to keep tabs on Mudie. That night, without warning, he had cancelled a date at the cinema with his girlfriend Euphemia McGill, and it was clear that Mudie was broke, as he had tried to sell an £80 wrist watch to a customer. Picking up the suitably attired Mrs Bruce at 5pm as planned, the rather grand-looking Wolseley saloon drive up to the hotel at a little after 5:30pm, as a lady must always be late. And dressed in a tweed overcoat, blue shirt and tie, a grey suit and waistcoat, and brown canvas shoes, he was neat and freshly shaven as if he was going to an interview, unaware that he was wearing the clothes he would die in. As expected, with the bait set, Mudie was eagerly waiting at the kerb when the car pulled up. Grinning at the good fortune before him, the chauffeur tipped his cap “good evening Sir”, opened the rear door and on the plush leather seats he sat next to this supposedly wealthy widow dressed in jewels and fur. In his pockets was a 3d bus ticket from an earlier trip to Reigate, £27 in notes and coins having sold a bracelet, as a heavy smoker he had three part-smoked packs of Player’s cigarettes, and believing that he was going to be working as a barman at the lady’s posh soiree, he had a book titled ‘100 Cocktails’. He thought he was being led to a job, Mrs Bruce believed he was being lured to sign a confession, but as the Wolseley followed the Ford at a distance, neither knew that he was being led to his death, as in the backseat, Mrs Bruce and Mudie made small talk. He spoke about growing up in Fife, his military service, his wife and child who he still loved, and how although he rarely saw them, he missed them. For Mrs Bruce and John Junior, it took a herculean effort to hide their true feelings at this blackmailer and rapist of women, who sat there with not a care in the world nor any hint of remorse at his crimes. If anything, he came across as kind and pleasant, but as Ley had forewarned them, it was all a façade. On route, needing extra cigarettes, they pulled up to a pub in Putney, and although as they shared a pint which Mudie paid for, even they thought “he didn’t seem like a bad person”, but they had been told how evil and devious he was, and his charm was how he had conned Mrs Brooks and her daughter. So, soon the confession would be signed, two women would be safe, and that was all that mattered. At just before 7pm, Smith & Buckingham arrived at 5 Beaufort Gardens parking the car out of sight and telling Ley “they’re almost here”. Entering the ground floor, at the rear of the passageway was an office where Ley stood beside a chair, a desk, a piece of paper and a pen for the confession, to the left of the back door was Buckingham silently waiting, as to the right was Smith holding 12 feet of rope. And just out of sight, they heard the Wolseley pull-up into Brompton Place. (Out) Every piece of the plan had worked like clockwork, Mudie was here and he wasn’t suspicious. Having been a barman at many private functions, he was used to entering via the tradesman’s entrance, and with this being an expensive townhouse, his only fear was whether he would do a good enough job. He didn’t quibble that the mews was unlit, that he saw no one else, that the ground floor was under construction, or that above the door, a sign read ‘Old Air Raid Shelter’, as barely a year after the war had ended, regardless of their status, every street was dark and dirty having been reduced to rubble. As rehearsed the chauffeur opened the car door letting out Mrs Bruce & Mudie. He unlocked the back door to 5 Beaufort Gardens with the key, and Mrs Bruce ushered Mudie inside. Armed with her excuse, “Johnny, I want to speak to you”, she left Mudie in the passageway, and that’s when he saw them. As the back door slammed shut and Mrs Bruce was swiftly driven away, what stood before Mudie and his escape was the imposing frames of Smith and Buckingham, at the end of the passageway was Ley, and instantly recognising him, Mudie was said to have muttered “you think you’ve got me, do you?”. The trap had worked, a blackmailer was caught, a rapist would be exiled, and his confession was just minutes away. Justice had been done… or so the co-conspirators had thought. In truth, John Mudie was innocent of extortion, theft, blackmail or rape, and he barely knew Mrs Brook or her daughter. Their morals had driven them to believe a lie, they had lured an innocent man to a flat, and within days his strangled body would be found in a chalk pit… having left the real blackmailer to walk free. The concluding part of The Chalk Pit Murder continues next week. The Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast has been researched using the original declassified police investigation files, court records, press reports and as many authentic sources as possible, which are freely available in the public domain, including eye-witness testimony, confessions, autopsy reports, first-hand accounts and independent investigation, where possible. But these documents are only as accurate as those recounting them and recording them, and are always incomplete or full of opinion rather than fact, therefore mistakes and misrepresentations can be made. As stated at the beginning of each episode (and as is clear by the way it is presented) Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast is a 'dramatisation' of the events and not a documentary, therefore a certain amount of dramatic licence, selective characterisation and story-telling (within logical reason and based on extensive research) has been taken to create a fuller picture. It is not a full and complete representation of the case, the people or the investigation, and therefore should not be taken as such. It is also often (for the sake of clarity, speed and the drama) presented from a single person's perspective, usually (but not exclusively) the victim's, and therefore it will contain a certain level of bias and opinion to get across this single perspective, which may not be the overall opinion of those involved or associated. Murder Mile is just one possible retelling of each case. Murder Mile does not set out to cause any harm or distress to those involved, and those who listen to the podcast or read the transcripts provided should be aware that by accessing anything created by Murder Mile (or any source related to any each) that they may discover some details about a person, an incident or the police investigation itself, that they were unaware of.
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AuthorMichael J Buchanan-Dunne is a crime writer, podcaster of Murder Mile UK True Crime and creator of true-crime TV series. 
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