Before my eyes I saw her go into hysterics, then she fell to the floor not unlike a person who is having a fit . . .
I was absolutely gutted; I did not know what to do but I called to her and tried to pick her up. I then said I’m sorry.
Her dazed reply was, “My name is Pam–I fed the baby!”
Obviously she was not herself. Then I asked her what was she doing there. Her answer: “I was cleaning up.”
My next question, “Where were the others?” I think she said “at the wool shed” but now I’m not absolutely sure. I picked her up off the floor and told her to go and tidy herself up.
She went into the bathroom for a while and when she returned her look of determination had returned with her. I was told in no uncertain terms to leave the property. I was shown the door and left with an utterly confused and bewildered mind.
This falling-out, during April 1980, was the result of a “domestic” that had been building up for quite a while and when I noticed a couple of bottles of Lion Red in the fridge, all hell had broken loose. I don’t drink ‘Red’ and neither did she!
My mind kept going back to past events and in trying to join those pesky dots was left wondering where I should start in telling this story. Like most New Zealanders I had been following the Crewe murders through the newspapers, TV, numerous books and the usual bloke talk when socialising.
I had a pretty good idea on how the murder inquiry was panning out but foremost in my mind was where this rather sweet woman, that I was previously sleeping with, fitted into New Zealand’s most controversial cold case. How was she involved?
All I can say at this early stage is that I first met her in Whangarei during the winter of 1976, a mere six years after Harvey and Jeannette first hit the headlines. Her identity to me since the mid 2000s has become a mystery and is most likely disguised through another marriage. As a result I have not been able to locate her.
I did keep track of her for many years after the parting our ways in 1980 mainly through genealogy searches of her family in my endeavours to discover where she fitted in and what her relationship was to Jeannette Crewe.
To give a brief background, I found she was born in 1947 in Whangarei. Her father’s name can be traced back to Yorkshire to 1566 where his forebears had inherited one of England’s most treasured homes. Surprisingly it is still a private residence for those currently carrying his family name.
In addition, the name Jones pops up on her great grandmother’s side and as can be imagined has led me on many wild goose chases over the years. It had its moments as everywhere I looked there was another Jones and as I discovered, a number were linked with other members of Leslee’s family and with land around Pukekawa.
The name Smith also appears in documents but finding the correct links has been almost impossible so those with that surname can relax. However, there are numerous names on my “loose ends” list that still need checking out.
Rest assured, there are strong family ties throughout that date back a long way to where the English links reek of wealth that possibly would give many descendants reason for motive.
Ultimately readers will find a lot of fingers in lots of pies and I remain surprised that nobody has ‘potted’ somebody or let the cat out of the bag and amongst the pigeons.