Midnight on Lime Street (28 page)

When on duty, he accepted without reaction the patting and fussing doled out by people passing through. He seemed to keep one eye on Holy Mary, the
agent provocateuse
, and the other on
entrances to platforms. Helen often found herself grinning at the dog she had supposedly found and rescued. If the dealers did but know it, they had a genius on their heels.

Within a week, the club known to police as Nellie, Mary and Tatty Arse caused the capture of no fewer than three dealers who had brought their wares via train to Liverpool. Through a complicated
set of signals, the culprits were followed and arrested away from the discovery site, often in excess of a mile from the station. And Helen, at long, long last, had someone of her own to love.

Lisa Horrocks, who insisted that she was no longer three years of age but nearly four, stood on Tom’s red rug in front of the fireplace in his best room. Belle was in the
living room/kitchen, while Tom Duffield sat on the sofa under the gimlet eye of a child whose mentality was probably closer to forty than four. She folded little arms across her chest. ‘How
old are you?’ she asked.

‘Forty-eight next birthday.’

‘Oh.’ Lisa shifted weight from one foot to the other, then back again. ‘Isn’t that nearly dead?’ she demanded to know.

He felt like an interviewee for a monumentally important job like managing director of the Woolworth chain, a butler for Her Majesty, or a Vatican guard. ‘No, it isn’t nearly dead,
Lisa. Your grandparents are older than I am, and I trust they have many years of happy life to look forward to.’

‘You’re older than my mummy.’

‘That’s true.’

‘And you’ve only got one hand. Why have you only got one hand?’

He shrugged. ‘A machine stole it. Cut it off.’

The child’s mouth shaped itself into a perfect O. ‘Did it hurt?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was there loads and loads and loads of blood?’

‘Some, yes.’

She thought about that for a few seconds. ‘I suppose you had to be a brave soldier, like me when I go for inject-shuns. I never cry, so I always get a jelly baby off Nora Nitty from the
Bug Committee.’

He tried not to laugh. ‘Is she the one who looks in your hair for crawlers?’

‘That’s right. At nursery, she visits a lot. She says it’s a plague area.’

‘Oh?’

‘What’s a plague?’

He considered his reply. ‘It’s an illness that jumps from one person to the next.’

‘Like nits?’

‘Like nits.’ He wondered how he was doing in this impromptu interview, because he’d had no warning, no time to prepare a curriculum vitae. He could hear Belle chuckling
quietly; he would deal with her later. Dealing with her was very enjoyable.

Lisa took a step closer to her victim. ‘Are you my dad now?’

Tom cocked his head to one side and grinned at her.

‘Well?’ She was tapping a foot, something she’d learnt from her grandmother. ‘Are you my new dad?’

Oh, he could see Belle in this one. Belle was sweet, kind and motherly, but there was a tiger underneath the fluffy surface. And here stood the tiger kitten, claws not quite sheathed, teeth not
quite hidden. ‘That’s up to you, Lisa. Do you want a dad?’

She glared at him. ‘Do dads buy things for kids?’

‘Sometimes. I used to buy toys for my sons.’

His reply stopped her dead in her tracks. ‘Where are they?’

‘With their mother.’

‘Why? Why aren’t they here in your house?’

‘Their mother doesn’t like me any more, so she took them with her when she left.’

Lisa looked at the ceiling, then through the window, then at the floor. ‘Just a minute,’ she said before leaving for the kitchen.

Tom breathed out. He felt like a footballer at half time during a big international match.

Belle was ready, though she played the innocent. ‘Hello, love.’

‘He had a Mrs Duffield, but she left him cos she didn’t like him.’

‘And?’ Belle dried a saucer.

‘Will you stop liking him?’

‘No. She didn’t want him because he had only one hand. She wouldn’t help to do his bandages.’

‘Right.’ Lisa returned to the interview room.

Tom removed his ear from the wall just in time and sat down quickly. ‘Ah, you’re back,’ he commented. ‘Have I passed?’

‘Passed what?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he said solemnly.

‘Let me look at it.’

‘What?’

She glanced heavenward again; grown-ups were such hard work. ‘The hand that isn’t there. I want to see it.’

‘It isn’t there.’

The child’s arms were now akimbo; given a bucket, a mop and a hairnet, she would have looked like a miniature cleaning woman. ‘Mummy!’ she yelled.

Belle appeared. ‘What, love?’ She was having a hard time, because she wanted to fall about laughing.

‘Tell him, will you? Tell him what I mean.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lisa.’

The child’s voice rose in pitch and volume. ‘The hand that isn’t there,’ she screamed angrily.

Belle looked at Tom. Belle shouldn’t have looked at Tom, because both were in a state worse than Russia. ‘Show her your stump,’ she snapped, just to hold back the laughter.

With mock solemnity, he rolled up his sleeve while Lisa closed the small distance between herself and him. ‘There you are, Lisa – the hand that isn’t there.’

Belle lost the inclination to laugh. There sat her lovely husband displaying his healed wound to a bossy little madam.

Lisa touched her lips, then carried the kiss on her fingers and gave it to his wrist. ‘Right, that should make it all better. You can be my dad if you want. I’m going to
Amelia’s now.’

And that was that.

‘I think I’ve just been adopted,’ he told his new wife solemnly.

‘Hmm. There’s a strong possibility. And all without a general anaesthetic. I wonder if she’ll decide to move in with us?’

‘Oh, I hope so, Belle. Though I’d hate to deprive Sam and Frankie. Let’s just give it time, baby. What are we eating tonight?’

‘Finger foods?’ She arched an eyebrow.

‘You have a sick sense of humour, Isabella Duffield.’

‘I know. Don’t you just love it?’

He chased her out of the room, along the hall and into the kitchen where he cornered her. ‘Good job I’m hand-some then, isn’t it?’

‘And hand-y about the house.’

He looked round the room. ‘Do you need a hand?’

‘Can you spare one, Mr Duffield?’

The joke would run forever, but he didn’t mind. This wonderful woman loved him, and his happiness cup was full to the brim.

Eve threw down her shopping list and turned off the radio. Another girl was dead, garrotted with wire, exactly the same as the earlier victims. An idea was taking shape in her
mind like a series of photographs lined up before her inner eye. The man needed taking out of the mix, and the police had got nowhere with the other murders.

She lit a Woodbine and inhaled deeply. There was something about cigarettes that kicked a mind into gear whenever it showed signs of slowing down or pulling into a lay-by. Unlike drink, tobacco
dragged a person into the now instead of placing a layer of mist over thoughts and deeds.

All three murders had taken place close to the Dock Road under the cover of darkness at approximately half past ten at night. All three women had been strangled to death, and there had been no
witnesses. Well, perhaps she might try to put that right. Of course, she’d need a touch of luck, but it was worth a try, especially when it involved dealing with a murderer.

Kate entered the office. ‘Any luck getting replacements for Belle and Angela, then?’

Eve nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. ‘Belle’s found a few possibles. I’m meeting them next Monday. Kate?’

‘That’s me.’ She positioned a cup of coffee under Eve’s nose.

‘I’ve been thinking. The van.’

‘What about the van?’

Eve shrugged. ‘There are a lot of vehicles parked or abandoned down there by the river.’

‘And?’ Kate placed herself in the chair facing Eve’s desk.

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a couple of heavies came with us and maybe one of the girls? Imagine the poetic justice if we put a stop to him.’

The cook/housekeeper’s jaw dropped. She snapped her mouth closed. ‘You can’t go taking the law into your own hands, Eve. We could get done for murder ourselves.’

‘Not if he’s got a woman and he’s trying to kill her.’

‘It could be too late for the poor cow.’

Eve nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, but she’d be the last, wouldn’t she? And some heavies know where to buy or borrow a gun with a wotsit on – silencer. We could get him
killed without having to touch him.’ She thrummed her fingers on the desk. ‘There’s a pattern to the killings, Kate. He’s killed three at the same time, one on a Thursday,
two on Fridays. It could be his way of celebrating the weekend – who knows? There’s a gap between the murders. This is a shift worker with a job in Liverpool. I bet he goes home the
Dock Road way, parks his car, finds a girl on her own, and Bob’s his uncle.’

Kate swallowed audibly. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Evie.’

‘Don’t I always? Get cooking, babe. At least we’ve fewer mouths to feed while we’re shut.’

The older woman left the office. Sometimes, it was impossible to drum sense into Eve Mellor’s head. Anyway, there was a meal to cook and be served up. Life went on. Well, it went on till
some heavy with a gun put a stop to it.

Belle, Eve and Tom had a lunchtime meal together in a sit-down chippy in town. They were discussing the future of Meadowbank, and the noise of other people talking and coming
in for takeaways was a good screen behind which they could hide. Even so, the two women kept their voices low while imparting and receiving information. Although Tom sat with them, he distanced
himself mentally, concentrating instead on the famous Lancashire combination of fish, chips, peas, buttered bread and a huge mug of strong tea.

‘You’ve worked hard, then,’ Eve said. ‘And I’m grateful, because you’re newly-weds and I know you’ve better things to do with your time. So tell me
about these terrible twins. Are they identical?’

Belle grinned. ‘Ah yes, the Gilroys. No, they’re chalk and cheese, one fair, one dark, both good company. If you ever get bored, they sing and tap dance and perform old music hall
acts. Alice does all sorts of play-acting, including a lot of Angela’s kind of stuff, and she’s damned good at everything. Theresa – she goes by Terry most of the time – is
a direct replacement for me. She’s massage with extras, so more of your clients will be pleased. And the twins will have threesomes or foursomes, so that might go down well. A bunch of grapes
and sheets worn like togas, and you can call it an orgy.’

Tom went to the counter for three more teas. Although he accepted his wife’s past and loved her dearly, he felt uncomfortable about listening to explicit details. He wanted to keep Belle
away from all this stuff, but he refused to put his foot down. Victoria was long dead, and most women made up their own minds about life these days, which was fair enough after all the time and
effort spent gaining the right to vote and running the country during six years of war.

Eve was correct about one thing, because Belle had worked hard to get more girls away from pimps and off the streets. Belle was a good woman, and she wouldn’t return to that other life,
would she? But Eve didn’t look well, he thought.

‘Is he all right?’ Eve was asking.

‘It bothers him a bit. He doesn’t want to know about their special skills and threesomes – all that leaves him cold. Tom never sat with me while I talked to the girls –
he always parked himself apart from us in the pubs and kept an eye on me. He wants to forget that side of life.’

‘But that side of life is part of what you are and were. You’ve moved on, and he loves you – he can’t take his eyes off you. Does he trust you, though? Because
that’s what matters.’

‘Yes, and I trust and love him. Let’s get through these while he’s in the tea queue. No point upsetting him more than absolutely necessary.’

Eve agreed readily. ‘Are they good natured, these twins?’

Belle nodded. ‘They should have gone on the stage, if I’m honest. It’s all banter and laughter with them; they even make their clients laugh. If you need another baby, Betty
Halliwell can be anything you want from a baby to an adult. She’s in her twenties, barely five foot tall, and the twins are early thirties and normal height.’ She passed a small book
across the table. ‘There’s a dozen names with specialities and contact details in there, so I’ve given you plenty of choice. But the Gilroys and Betty would make for a happy
house.’ She grinned. ‘I know it’s a good place already, but with Angela and Babs gone it’ll be a bit less like an endless boxing match.’

‘Thanks, Belle.’ Eve managed to sound all right, though she was having trouble digesting her food. She clung to the subject of girls. ‘The part-timers who stepped in were
useless, always having headaches and what they called ovulation pain, so they wanted time off twice every month. We miss you.’ She glanced at Tom. ‘How can he carry three
teas?’

‘One hand can manage a tray with a few mugs on it, Eve. He rests the other end of the tray on his stump. You should see him working with tiny watches. He uses a hook with attachments in
place of his left hand. The stuff he can do without it – he never fails to amaze me.’

‘You’re happy. I can tell you’re both happy. You look about twenty-five, tops.’

Belle smiled. ‘I never thought it would happen to me.’

‘I’ve seen loads of girls married,’ Eve told her. ‘Some happily, some not. Your Tom might be short of a hand, but he’s a good man. He was very lonely, and I’m
glad he found you.’

Belle launched into an account of Tom’s interview panel. ‘It wasn’t so much a panel as the whole Spanish Inquisition housed inside my daughter. Lisa’s my mother all over
again.’ She told Eve about the scullery being a laundry room and the middle room having been turned into a kitchen and living room. ‘So I was right next door while she interrogated him
in the best room, the one her granny calls a parlour. I don’t know how he got through without laughing or busting a gut. I was in pain – honest, Eve.’