He lay on the bed in his custody cell wondering what possible, provable defence he would need. He had never met Valerie therefore his fingerprints could not have been anywhere on her. He certainly did not know what she looked like and he had never been in the bathroom, where it was alleged she had died. The house though was his as part of a new development site. He wondered how the police arrived and also how they knew where to go. He could not imagine it was coincidental. He ran through everything over and over again, then a wry smile crossed his face – Mitchell, of course. It had to be. He wanted the Heathrow site. The events of the last few days prior to his arrest clearly pointed him to the Housing Minister. He realised that Mitchell would be clean but that he was the murderer in absentia. His outlook was bleak.
He, Robert Henry Bond, property developer of some repute, received a call from Edward Mitchell, Member of Parliament Surrey East. Mitchell knew Robert had sites all over the South East in the process of being renovated, being built upon or demolished for future development.
Mitchell and Robert went back a long way, being both Graduates of Exeter College, Oxford. Robert thought of himself as hardworking from a middle-class family of builders. Mitchell however thought of himself as upper class wondering what to do with his life. They cut a strange relationship and after graduating went their separate ways. Mitchell eventually became an MP after a short career as a financier and Robert took on the family property development business when his father retired.
They met again, by chance, on a proposed housing development site in Godalming. Robert had been given the green light to commence building. Mitchell was then the Housing Minister and had shown a keen interest in the site, as he lived nearby. He was responsible for several changes and delays of the start of construction which had disrupted Robert’s plans and raised costs. Mitchell, as the sitting MP was chosen to turn the first sod. They exchanged handshakes for the benefit of the attendant Press then had lunch together at the Kings Arms. During lunch Mitchell continually quizzed Robert about his property portfolio and Robert, who knew Mitchell had fingers in many pies, was glad when it was over.
They didn’t shake hands on that occasion nor did they keep in touch afterwards until December 17th 1965 when Mitchell telephoned Robert demanding a meeting regarding a new site.
The meeting took place in Mayfair at Mitchell’s Club on a very cold December 19th. Robert was late; Mitchell was very intoxicated by the time he arrived. Robert knew there were going to be no niceties as soon as Mitchell started speaking but caught most of the “speech” about unwanted new building developments and “cowboy” builders.
The meeting was all about a site Robert had acquired by a tender and design competition but which had been promised by Mitchell to a different developer. He demanded that Robert sell it to that developer. Robert refused and left the meeting within minutes of it starting, hearing Mitchell issue a tirade of abuse as he left.
The two acre site in question was very valuable given its proximity to London Airport, shortly to be renamed as Heathrow. Robert had submitted his bid with that in mind. As it stood, it consisted of a number of light industrial workshops which had closed down and three domestic dwellings, all now unoccupied. It was in one of the dwellings that Valerie Johnson was found.
Robert was advised to have security on the site but decided to perform that job himself by driving to the site each morning and evening. On the day in question, he had left the third house lights on by mistake when making his morning visit. He noticed some fresh tyre marks on the grass verge under the security light at the entrance to the site, as he walked back to his van.
Valerie Johnson was a minor celebrity and “woman about town”, mixing with the great and good of London. She was also a singer in three of the many music venues in the West End and Soho including Ronnie Scott’s. Over time she became well-liked and had gained a reputation as an accomplished singer and as helpful to other singers.
She was extremely attractive in a Sophia Loren way, therefore she was never short of a man on her arm, but in truth Valerie was not much inclined towards relationships – they took too much time. That was until she caught sight of a tall, handsome man with a confident stride heading directly towards her.
“You are quite the most beautiful woman in London,” was his greeting, “quite the most beautiful.”
No-one had ever said anything like that to Valerie, especially at first sight. She stammered her thanks and accepted his invitation to have a drink. The man introduced himself as Lawrence Foster from Winchester. He said that he was new in town, staying the week at Claridge’s.
“I have some business to attend to and would like to know London much better than I currently do. What do you say to being my guide?”
“Well, I am not sure that would be possible, Mr Foster, I have commitments I want to keep. I could suggest someone else if you wish. Besides you do not know my name or anything about me.”
“Oh, but I do. You are beautiful, your dress sense is impeccable, your smile infectious, your karma shines from you. I do not need to know anything else. I shall call you Suzanna.”
Valerie laughed.
“Mr Foster, you are a charmer for sure. They are usually dangerous, like drugs. I do not use drugs and my name is Valerie.”
They spent some time drinking and talking then Valerie told him that she was about to sing. She waked to the dimly lit stage to huge applause from the now crowded club.
Lawrence Foster watched with interest as she sung her way through Ella Fitzgerald, Susan Maughan, Sara Vaughan et al. This was turning into a marvellous evening in his eyes and as she finished her set, he stood and applauded enthusiastically. She made her way back through the cheering throng and saw that he was on his feet. She turned and waved to her audience as she sat down. He was obviously impressed.
“What a surprise. You were wonderful, Suzanna!”
They both laughed as if they had known each other for years.
“I love to sing, it is my job five nights a week. I have another slot later this evening, a little different to that one so I am always in bed until after midday. Not much time for being a guide I’m afraid.”
“Yes, I see that now, but might we meet for lunch tomorrow? I have some papers to prepare tonight so I must take my leave of you for now.”
“Lunch would be a treat, Mr Foster.” He gave her his room telephone number, kissed her hand and left. She was slightly surprised at the quickness of his departure as he walked out of the club without a backward glance.
To be continued (Sorry!)
