Midnight on Lime Street (49 page)

‘Thank you,’ offered a disembodied male voice.

Eve watched in fascination as a short man jumped on to Kate’s bed, walked up it and descended into the small space in front of Murdoch.

‘Mr Heslop,’ she cried.

He stroked the animal’s nose. ‘Fine fellow,’ he said before seating himself on Kate’s pillow. ‘A little girl in the kitchen told me where to find you, Miss Mellor.
I didn’t want to disturb you, though I see you already have a visitor.’ He seemed neither surprised nor deterred by the unusual house pet.

‘Oh. Right.’

It was like a tennis match. The horse’s head changed direction in reaction to each speaker.

‘You were right,’ Bert Heslop said.

‘Was I?’

He nodded. Murdoch nodded. Eve nodded. ‘So where is he?’

‘In a morgue, I expect.’

Murdoch whinnied.

‘Dead?’ Eve felt her jaw slackening.

‘Dead.’

‘Bloody hell. How?’

Murdoch stamped a foot.

‘He expects to be included in the conversation,’ said the detective. ‘Yes,’ he advised the largest item in the room. ‘A coach hit him and its driver died at the
scene while crashing into Carson’s van. At first, it was put down to failure of brakes, but the coach driver may have suffered a heart attack. I’m here to tell Miss Mellor that Neil
Carson died of burns, one of them fourth degree.’

‘What does that mean?’ Eve wanted to know.

‘Right through to the bones of his spine.’

Beyond exhaustion, Eve lay back on her pillows. ‘So how do you know he’s the Mersey Monster?’

‘He confessed to a nurse and a priest. There’s a notebook.’

‘What about a notebook?’

Bert tapped his nose with a forefinger. ‘He kept a diary, and I have friends in high places.’

‘Police?’

He nodded. Murdoch nodded. Eve nodded. Apart from the fact that two humans, one of them at death’s door, were discussing a monster, this was fit for a Three Stooges farce. ‘He told
the nurse about the notebook; all the details were in it.’

‘Thank God,’ Eve whispered.

‘Amen to that, Miss Mellor.’

‘Eve.’

‘All right, Eve. I’m Bert.’ He placed an envelope on the windowsill. ‘Deal with that when you’re ready, then. I’d better go.’

Hearing this, the horse backed out of the room.

‘They do reverse,’ she exclaimed.

‘They do indeed.’ He shook her hand. ‘Goodbye, Eve. I wish you all the best with as little pain as humanly possible.’

Alone, she felt tears gathering, but she hung on. This was it; this was the day she had long awaited, and her job was done. But she didn’t want to die here. The idea of seeing herself off
in somebody else’s house seemed impolite.

Kate entered with a tray. ‘I’ve got your soft boiled egg with soldiers – best butter and all.’

Eve smiled at her Lancastrian friend. ‘Your accent’s gone worse, Kate. Sit down.’ She delivered the tale. ‘And he’s been in our house,’ she added at the end.
‘We’ve had a bloody killer at the farm.’

Kate shivered. ‘Jesus,’ she mumbled, her eyes closed as if for prayers.

Eve nodded sagely. ‘Two kids, he had. Imagine the state of them when this hits the headlines. His poor wife, too. What on earth has she done to deserve a thing like that as a husband? She
talked to Belle, you know.’

‘Yes, you said.’

‘Laura, she’s called. Nice name.’

‘You already told me.’ Kate unfolded the legs of the breakfast trolley and propped it on Eve’s bed. ‘Eat what you can, love. Our girls are all in the kitchen having
breakfast served up with laughs by young Sally. She’s got a boyfriend – the lad whose mate got killed by them drugs people. He’s learning to be a plasterer. Them other boys are
here, too – they hid in the scout hut, remember?’

Eve nodded.

‘They slept here too, last night. There’s all kinds of camp beds and whatnot up the stairs here. Mr Macey’s got the date for Crown Court – March, he said. The monks are
civilians now, and they have to report to a cop shop every day. I thought Babs and Gordy might have Dove Cottage to themselves, so there’ll be four lads and Sally stopping here. Oh, well; it
never rains but it pours, eh? I’ll go and have my brekky.’

Alone, Eve struggled to eat bits of boiled egg, though she didn’t attempt to tackle her toast.

When the tray had been removed, she turned, wriggled to the edge of the mattress and placed her feet on the floor. The windowsill was close by, and she reached for Bert Heslop’s bill,
which seemed rather bulky for a single sheet bearing lists of expenses. It wasn’t a bill. It was a card with a bunch of flowers on its front. Inside, there was no printed message. Instead, a
hundred pounds in new notes nestled with a handwritten line.
For a cancer research charity of your choice. God bless you, Hubert Heslop
.

And that was when she began to cry.

Sisters Mary Veronica and Helen Veronica were in a public house enjoying a lunchtime shandy with DS Eddie Barnes. Nelson sat under their table waiting for gifts of potato
crisps and pork scratchings.

‘I hope you’re right this time, Eddie,’ Helen said. ‘And no more beer for Nelson, thank you. He’s daft enough when not on duty.’ She looked at her watch.
‘So we have just about eleven hours.’

‘Yes. Corner of Crosshall Street and Victoria Street.’

‘At a quarter to midnight?’

Eddie shrugged. ‘That’s what we were told.’ He spoke to Mary. ‘So this new drug boss trusts you? Are you absolutely sure? After all, Holy Mary did run errands for
Shuttleworth.’

Mary grinned and winked in a very unholy manner. ‘I’m in it for the money. They all know I won’t carry drugs, but I’ll deliver messages. But isn’t that meeting
place a bit busy?’

Eddie shrugged again. ‘Maybe they want to look normal, just two blokes on a night out.’

Helen gave her opinion that it felt wrong. ‘They always stay hidden,’ she said. ‘They’re the most invisible of all this city’s invisibles.’ She patted Nelson
almost automatically; with his head on her lap, he was clearly begging for treats, but no one was forthcoming with titbits. He withdrew, curled up under the table and fell asleep.

‘I’ve changed my mind; I want you and Nelson to stay at home tonight,’ Eddie advised Helen. ‘We don’t want him doing a turn because he can smell drugs.’ He
focused on Mary. ‘Dress in your Holy Mary clothes, but I’m hoping we won’t need you either.’

‘Right,’ she replied. ‘One more shandy, then we’ll return to being brides of Christ.’

Eddie grinned as he went for three more drinks. These two nuns were excellent police officers, better than many who’d been trained for the job. They were prepared to break smaller rules
for the greater good, and therein lay their strength. There was a God, and He was benign.

When they returned to Meadowbank Farm, Eve, Kate and the girls were greeted by Belle, Tom and Max. Liverpool was buzzing with news of the crash, though nothing had been heard
so far about Neil Carson’s having been the serial killer of working girls.

Belle threw her arms round Eve’s neck. ‘Was it him? Was Laura right? Were you right?’

Eve delivered a weak smile. ‘We were right, babe. I’ll just go and get clean, put me nightie on and throw meself in bed. We’re closed tonight; business as usual soon
enough.’

‘Shall I help you?’

‘No, you’re all right – Kate does it. She’s used to me, love. Getting me changed can be complicated.’

Belle lingered with Tom and her ex-colleagues, watching as Eve and Kate went slowly into the bedroom they had shared. While the girls fussed over Max, Belle stared blankly into the near
distance. The light in Eve Mellor’s eyes had died; it was almost as if she had stayed alive until Carson had been caught. ‘She’s going, Tom,’ Belle whispered to her beloved
husband.

‘Yes, love,’ he mumbled, ‘but wear a brave face for her sake. She won’t take treatment apart from painkillers, and that’s her prerogative. Act normal.’

‘I don’t do normal, and neither do you.’

He raised his shoulders for a split second. ‘Then just be yourself.’

‘OK.’

Belle gave herself a silent lecture. For the sake of Eve and the girls, she needed to stay strong. Kate brought Eve to her bed in the kitchen and pulled the covers over her before going to the
other side of the huge room to make cocoa. Belle followed her and helped with the task. Looking over her shoulder, Belle noticed that Eve was writing in a notebook. ‘What’s she writing,
Kate?’

‘Her memoirs. She’s been at it a while now.’

‘Yet she seems sleepy, closes her eyes a lot.’

‘Yes, she does that, too.’

‘She’s lost a lot of weight, hasn’t she?’

Kate sighed. ‘You should see her naked – just loose flesh hanging from her bones. I’m scared, Belle.’

‘So am I, love. So am I.’

The girls drifted off to bed, leaving just Tom, Belle, Kate and Max in the kitchen with Eve, who was already asleep. Belle glanced across at Eve. ‘Go and get in your own bed, Kate,’
she said. ‘She’s settling nicely, so I’ll stay with her tonight.’

‘What about Tom?’ Kate asked. ‘He can’t drive home.’

‘I’ll stay,’ he said. ‘You’re weary, Kate.’

She had to agree. ‘Sleep in the spare next to the office,’ she advised him before going to look at Eve, who was snoring.

Tom left the room, blowing kisses at his wife as he went.

Kate grinned and took herself off to the bedroom.

Alone with Max, Belle stretched out on a long sofa. The dog, sensible as ever, lay flat out in front of the fire. It was a quarter past eleven, and Belle drifted off almost immediately –
even Eve’s snoring failed to keep her awake.

But a wet, doggy tongue woke her. She patted Max, sat up and looked to her right. Eve’s bed was near the window. ‘What is it, boy?’ she asked.

He whined quietly and walked to the bed.

Belle followed after glancing at the clock; it was just ten minutes to midnight – she had slept for no more than half an hour.

Eve was warm, but she wasn’t breathing. Had the snoring been the rattle of death? ‘Find Tom,’ Belle told Max. He ran.

When the covers were pulled back, she noticed the open notebook, a ballpoint pen and an empty pill jar. Eve had done as she had promised from the day of her diagnosis: she had seen herself off.
Switching on the bedside lamp, Belle read the final words.

Belle gulped hard. The woman in the bed had probably been swallowing pills a few at a time all evening. It was possible that Eve might be brought back through medical intervention, but she
hadn’t wanted that. ‘Sleep well, my friend. I always knew there was a good woman behind all the bluster.’

Tom arrived.

‘I think she’s dead,’ Belle murmured.

‘Shall I get an ambulance?’ he asked.

For answer, his wife pushed the notebook into his hands.

‘Ten minutes won’t make any difference,’ Tom whispered. ‘Let’s make sure she’s gone before waking Kate or sending for an ambulance.’

At midnight Tom would use the telephone while Belle roused Kate.

For Meadowbank Farm, this Sunday night marked the end of an era.

In town, a different tune was nearing its climax. Shops and offices were packed with police in plain clothes. DS Eddie Barnes, in charge of the operation, was dressed in
tattered garments and clinging for support to a lamp post. Delivering a mangled version of
Danny Boy
, he kept his eyes open beneath the neb of a flat cap. Tonight, Old Drug Boss would meet
his successor with a view to joining forces.

It was cold. Air expressed by passers-by hung in the air like small clouds. A pale silver moon sat against a huge map of faraway stars; there was frost tonight. Late revellers left clubs and
wandered about in search of night buses. A loud woman berated her partner for looking at other women at a dance. ‘You made a show of me,’ she screamed, clattering his ear with her
handbag. ‘I was ashamed.’ The man shielded his face; he was clearly used to such performances.

Another couple joined them, and the fighting ceased immediately.

Eddie, whose pipes were still calling from glen to glen and down the mountainside, tried not to be distracted. He sang on determinedly and tunelessly about sunshine on meadows, valleys under
snow and Danny coming home.

Shuttleworth slipped out of a recessed doorway. With his head down, he approached the chosen meeting place, but there was no sign thus far of the new drugs baron. He stilled and lit a cigarette.
He was taking a huge chance by being here, and he knew it.

Before Eddie reached the end of sunshine and shadow, chaos invented itself. While members of the force watched from first floor windows, civilians arrived from every conceivable direction,
running at Shuttleworth. Whistles blew. Police decanted themselves from shops and offices. They arrested at least a dozen of New Drug Boss’s minions, but Shuttleworth was not among the
detainees. Eddie barked orders. ‘Put this lot in the wagon. After that, you four go left, the rest turn right at the corner. I’m going up Lime Street.’ He stood for a few seconds
and watched while offenders were stored in a large van.

‘Right – go!’ he shouted before making for the station. Why was he going to the station? He had no bloody idea. Bloody. Dave’s blood. Eddie shivered. Running fast, he
crossed the main road and reached his destination. People were screaming; a porter came out and grabbed Eddie’s arm. ‘He’s been stabbed,’ the employee of British Railways
said. ‘You used to work here in uniform, didn’t you?’

They entered the station together. Eddie retrieved his arm and walked slowly across the area. This was karma; it was perfect. He bent down. ‘Hurts, does it?’ he asked.

Shuttleworth clutched at the handle of a knife whose blade was buried in his abdomen. ‘Fuck off,’ he snapped.