Midnight on Lime Street (46 page)

‘I’m reasonably collapsible. Listen, Bert, if he can be caught red-handed, he’ll be put away tonight. Once he’s locked up, it will be easier for Laura and me to heap the
other pieces of evidence on his head. The story will come out, of course, but if we do it my way, he’ll go down for attempted arson, and he’ll crumble under questioning about the dead
women. I think this will be the quickest way to be rid of the man.’

Bert remained unsure. ‘Perhaps we could get the cops out tonight and have them watch what’s going on and—’

‘No.’

Bert’s jaw dropped.

‘No,’ Andy repeated. ‘What if you’re wrong? What if he makes no attempt to harm me and Laura tonight? The boys in blue may decide to take none of it seriously – we
might even be accused of wasting police time.’ He poured the tea. ‘Now, I’ll make us something to eat. We may be in for a very long night. Do you like eggs?’

‘I do.’

‘Good, because I’m great with eggs. I’ll bring you some bread – use the toasting fork. Bread singed by fire is always tastier. I’ll go and start
scrambling.’

By the time they’d eaten together, both were easier. Whatever happened, each felt he’d found in the other a friend for life.

Eve sat near the huge fireplace in her chariot. Chariot was a word so much more acceptable than wheelchair. She watched Baby Babs dancing with her new husband, saw her girls
chatting away to others in the party, and felt content, because she’d done a good enough job of raising these surrogate daughters.

Babs and Gordy had their own place at Dove Cottage, and the three abused boys would be staying here in Wordsworth for a few nights, as would Eve, Kate and the girls. Meadowbank was closed for
the week, so all its residents were in holiday mood. She shifted in the chariot; the pain was beginning to get to her.

The best man arrived by her side. ‘Miss Mellor? I’m Macey, commonly known as Lippy.’

She held out a hand. ‘Eve Mellor. I’ve a smallholding outside Knowsley. Babs and Sal stayed with me for a while.’

Lippy pulled up a chair. ‘So the three boys who ran away from school hid in a hut near you?’

‘They did, yes.’

‘Ushers today,’ he told her. ‘And I have news for them. The offending brothers have been thrown out of the order and are on bail awaiting trial.’

‘Should be bloody shot,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve no time for bastards who prey on kids. Still, let’s not think about them, eh? I’m staying here for a few days with
my old friend Kate. I know it’s late in the year, but a change of air might suit.’

There was sadness in the smile he delivered. ‘If you need a doctor while you’re in Southport, use Don’s. As a temporary resident, you retain the right to be treated.’

‘Thanks.’

He patted her hand. ‘The tiny bundle of fire dressed suitably in red is my wife. She’s a doctor, too. You won’t be alone, dear lady.’

When he had walked away, Eve fixed her eyes on bride and groom. They were clearly happy. Tomorrow, one of the lads might take Eve and Kate to meet the famous horse, the very one who had hated
Eve on sight. She groaned under her breath. Soon, it would be morphine, and morphine would render her less than sensible.

‘Eve?’

She turned to find Babs squatting beside her. ‘You look lovely,’ Eve said. ‘I was that proud when you came into the register office – well, I could have cried.’

‘We never cry, you and me.’

‘It’s not every day a daughter gets wed, love. I felt as if you were my girl. If I could choose a child of my own, you’d be high on the list, babe.’

‘Oh, Eve.’

‘I know, I know. I don’t want to go, but this bugger’s got a grip of me, and it’s going to win. I’d love to be a granny by proxy, only it’s not going to
happen.’

Babs blinked rapidly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yes, love.’

The bride stood up and brought a chair to Eve’s side. When seated, she took Eve’s hand. ‘I’ve been watching you. You’re in pain.’

‘Yes. But make sure I don’t die in hospital, will you? Kate’s promised, but she might panic when the time comes. She’s not as strong as we are. Angela said she’ll
phone you when . . . when or if any decisions are made.’

‘OK.’

Gordy joined them. ‘Come on now, Mrs Woman. We’re going home.’ He nodded at Eve. ‘Full house here tonight. You, Miss O’Gorman, four lads and all your girls. Still,
three of the boys will be back with us in a day or so.’

‘Are they safe?’ Eve asked.

‘I doubt the monks will break bail conditions, but we’ll remain on red alert. Goodnight.’

Without announcing their intention to leave, the couple disappeared while the party was in full swing. Don had been in bed for a couple of hours, but others looked set to have fun until
tomorrow. It had been the greatest of days.

Babs and Gordy made their way to Dove Cottage and towards their own private celebration. They were a family, and families needed alone time.

There was an odour attached to the Wrays’ house, a smell that clung determinedly to everything, proclaiming loudly that the people living here were elderly. The place
wasn’t dirty; it was just decadent. Maude Turton, who had lived next door, had always given off the scent of lavender or violet, but poor Mrs Wray spent most hours in the day – and
possibly the night – caring for a sick cripple of a husband who scarcely knew her. She fed him, gave him bed baths, cleaned up his messes, helped him up and down the stairs, and still found
time to make an extra pie for a neighbour.

Neil Carson lowered himself into a chair. ‘I won’t eat the pie,’ he mumbled. He couldn’t eat anything that came out of a house as neglected as this one. Surfaces were
dusty, while curtains and cushion covers screamed for a damned good wash. Poor woman. She was probably too old and worn out to deal properly with household tasks.

Dolly Pearson crept into his head. Mistaking her for a whore, he had killed her, thereby leaving Mrs Pearson’s mother without one of her carers. Shivering, he sat back and tried to
eliminate the thought. ‘I looked after Maude,’ he whispered. ‘I looked after her well, even loved her.’ Surely that went some way towards compensating for his mistake?
He’d tried so hard. Liking women older than himself was never easy. Mother. Oh yes, Mother had a great deal to answer for.

A picture of Joseph’s hanging body suddenly occupied his mind. ‘Stop, stop.’ He picked up a newspaper and tried to read, but nothing sank in. Tonight, he was going to kill his
wife and an upstanding citizen of Liverpool. ‘Don’t think about it, Neil,’ he muttered, ‘and just concentrate on the newspaper.’ It wasn’t his fault that Joseph
Turton had been homosexual . . . Words on the page meant nothing, and were beginning to melt together like blobs of tar on a hot day.

Nine o’clock. Laura would be in the chip shop for at least a couple more hours; really, it needed to happen after about one or two o’clock in the morning while people were sleeping
deeply. If Martindale’s car was outside . . . ‘Patience, patience,’ he mouthed. There really was no valid reason for leaving Norman Wray twice. As long as he was back by the early
hours, Neil would be safe and neither of the Wrays would know anything about his temporary escape. He’d even parked Joseph’s van in a different street.

Traffic was still on the move outside. It was Saturday night, it was too early, and he needed to be safe.

‘Safe?’ he asked aloud. ‘Who can be safe after killing the mother of his children?’ Yet everything had arisen after Jesus had delivered the message, the request about
ridding the streets of prostitutes. Life was a maze . . . He seemed to be meeting dead end after dead end. Dead. Oh yes, he had brought death to Liverpool, but tonight’s would be his biggest
crime.

He stood up and began his usual walk, but in a different house. Wall to window, window to wall, dead end to dead end. Hell beckoned. The need to murder his wife and her lover had arisen from
tasks undertaken in the name of Jesus. Could a latter-day disciple go into the inferno? Now, that
was
a real and eternal punishment, a fire to end all fires.

He paused. The children would be heartbroken, since Laura had been a good mother. But he would be a good dad; he’d always been an excellent father. He would need to seek treatment, of
course.

Fire. With fire, most people were killed by smoke, so Laura wouldn’t burn to death, would she? And to think he’d been worrying about Matt and Lucy being unsafe if the chip shop went
up in flames. Life was strange, a circle with events, worries and ideas moving and reappearing like the moon and the sun, forever there, yet not always visible.

He placed himself in the hands of the Lord and tried once more to read the newspaper. Five long hours, and he must stay calm.

‘Where on God’s good earth are you taking me now?’ She was a besom, as his old mammy might have said.

‘Somewhere sensible,’ was the new bride’s swift reply.

‘Stables?’ Gordy asked. ‘Will we spend the wedding night with a couple of horses and some donkeys? The dogs are in there too, you know. They seemed not to like the music, so
they’ll be asking Murdoch to protect them.’

Babs ground to a halt, as did her husband. ‘A stable was good enough for Jesus’s birthday, wasn’t it? Anyway, we had our wedding night months ago, soft lad. I have to tell
Murdoch we’re really married now. He already knows I can’t ride him because of the baby.’

Gordy tutted.

‘What?’ Babs snapped.

The besom’s partner shook his head slowly. ‘And you call me soft when you’re the one who thinks a horse understands English?’

‘He understands
me
,’ Babs insisted, ‘because he’s mine. He chose me.’

‘Hmmph,’ Gordy grunted.

She folded her arms and faced him. ‘Listen, Hooligan. He knows when I mean there’s change coming. I’m not saying he gets everything I tell him, but he senses when I mean
change. And he’s my horse in his heart, so he listens to me. I do nothing behind his back. Like a kid, he wants to learn.’

Gordy grinned. ‘He’ll be asleep.’

She laughed. ‘He never lies down till about ten o’clock; he does the sleeping-stood-up bit till Nye settles. They’re both prey animals, both made to sleep standing up and ready
to run. And before you ask, yes, I’ve been reading again. A horse does flight or fight. There’s a locking mechanism at the tops of their legs to stop them falling over in their sleep. A
mare would fight if she had a foal to protect, but they mostly bugger off when they see predators. Like we would. They’re us, but with four legs and more sense.’

She was right, of course. Gordy watched as she picked up a torch and switched it on. Murdoch was on his feet, eyes closed, ears in the I-am-resting or I-am-bored position. One ear moved.
‘He knows we’re here,’ Babs whispered. ‘Murdoch? Hello, baby.’

Both ears suddenly pricked up into the ready position. He whickered softly.

‘We’re married,’ Babs announced, ‘so we’ll both sleep in Dove Cottage from now on, but I’ll still be in the big house every day, so you’ll get your
carrot and your apple. Nothing’s different really. I can’t ride you, but I can be with you. They’re getting a nice young man to ride you, which is just as well, because they might
carry on allowing only men jockeys in the big race.’

Gordy leaned against a wall and watched as Murdoch placed his head on Babs’s shoulder and the whispering began. Although newly married to his beloved girl, he felt as if he were intruding
on a pair of lovers. Babs had proved herself to be a godsend in more than one way; she was clever, funny, loving and would become a great jockey after the child was born. ‘What are you
telling him, Babs?’

‘That we love him.’

Gordy sniffed. Babs had a habit of pulling at his heartstrings.

‘Lie down, baby,’ she said.

The horse settled down next to his donkey friend. From the shadows, four scruffy mongrels appeared and stretched out, cuddling up to their equine friends. They didn’t like parties, so
their usual beds at the foot of Wordsworth House’s stairs would be empty tonight, and they would borrow warmth from the stable dwellers.

‘Come away with you now, Mrs Hourigan.’

‘I’m coming, I’m coming.’ She put away the torch and took her husband’s hand. Never before in her life had she felt as happy as she did in this moment. A good man,
a precious horse and a house with three bedrooms and a plumbed-in bath – what more could a woman ask for?

Belle did the driving. For the first few miles, the couple sat in silence, tired after the long but happy day. ‘Tom,’ she asked eventually while travelling through
Ainsdale, ‘did you take a close look at Eve?’

He sighed. ‘I didn’t need to, love. She was nearly as yellow as a new duster.’

Belle agreed; even the whites of Eve’s eyes had been stained. ‘She can’t have long left. I hope they keep her as pain-free as possible. Will it bother you if I go up there
occasionally – to the farm, I mean? Just to help Kate look after her? I’ll go only when you don’t need me to run you round with clocks.’

Tom shook his head. ‘I won’t mind at all, love. But remember our baby and don’t go lifting and carrying anything heavy.’

She continued through Formby towards the main route to Liverpool. ‘That private detective is on Neil Carson’s tail, Tom. He’s going to follow him over this weekend, or so Eve
says. There has to be a reason why he had that cross and why he got rid of it. I shiver when I think of him. Even Angela said he was twisted.’

‘I’ll warm you up when we get home, my love. Until then, don’t think about him.’

Belle swallowed. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll protect you. I may have just the one hand, but I can swing a poker well enough, and my hook could rip his ugly face off. Anyway, he doesn’t have any reason to hurt
you.’

‘He’s killed working girls. I’ve been a working girl.’

Tom considered her words. ‘If Laura Carson told you her suspicions, she’ll go to the police soon. He’ll be locked up before you know it.’

But she still felt chilled to the bone. Eve was dying, and there was a lunatic about with a private detective on his tail. After such a lovely wedding, Belle should have been happy, but her
intuition was on red alert. Something bad was going to happen very soon. ‘I love you, Tom.’