Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1) by Malcolm Hollingdrake (any book recommendations .txt) 📗

time. I remember that really well, the shock of it. I hadn’t seen him for a while as I’d gone to stay with my sister in Chester for a week or so. She has such a lovely place – proper posh and not like here. Anyway, when I got back, I’d gone to the shop at the end there and as I went in, he was coming out. I walked past him. It was only because he spoke. Goodness, he’d changed so much. Gambling and drugs people said. He was dead within the month. I thought it was cancer but then I know nothing. Sean went off and the family then started to downward spiral. I’ve seen it a couple of times. Booze and betting usually, after the husband or man in the house loses his job. Family breaks up and the next minute there’s a To Let or a For Sale sign. More often than not if it’s rented, they do a flit.’

‘So, Mrs Netherfield, what about the mother?’

‘Biscuit?’

Lucy shook her head.

‘Thought you’d know. Locked up. Broke the dog’s legs. Drink and drugs. You’d see them come to the house on pushbikes, those little scooters and mopeds. Sometimes men would come to the house. In for a while and then out. Knocking shop people said.’

‘How old was Beverley?’

‘Fourteen, maybe fifteen. Suddenly started to wear makeup. Mother put her on the game if you ask me. Sometimes I’d see a car pull up and she’d be picked up. Should have been at school.’

‘When did you last see her?’

She put her cup and saucer on the coffee table. ‘I know exactly when I saw her last, it was after her mother was taken away and the house cleared. She was with a gang, mainly lads, hoods up, you know the type. It was maybe three weeks ago. I was coming back from having my hair done, it was going dark and a gang of about eight were blocking the path. There was a lot of swearing, strong stuff. I could see there might be trouble so I tucked my bag into my coat. I was frightened I can tell you that. Suddenly someone spoke and the gang parted like the Red Sea. It was then I saw who had spoken, it was Beverley. She simply nodded. Last time I saw her. Maybe she’s not all bad.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s sad when you see them lose their way. She still had a heart, the lass. I’ll always be grateful. If you see her please give her my regards and say thank you.’

Lucy detected the sincerity in her eyes. She nodded. ‘I’ll do that, Mrs Netherfield. Let’s hope there’s still time to get her straight.’

As Lucy turned to leave, she paused. ‘One last thing. Did Beverley have any visible scars?’

‘I once saw her arms. Here and around here.’ She pointed to her inner forearm. ‘Always had a lot of cuts around there as if she’d pulled her arms through brambles.’

Lucy only smiled and left.

Chapter 16

The deep red Peugeot 207 sat idling, lights off. It had been stolen earlier in the evening and would, with luck, still not be reported missing. The cemetery, a dark oasis in the centre of the city, sat in marked contrast to its surroundings. A black hole set amongst the city’s lights, it was positioned to the right of the main road. The gravestones along the edge were illuminated and shadowed but further in, the dark swallowed the rest. Lights along the far side marked the boundary of the black hole. All three youths vaped anxiously. The time leading up to confrontations was never easy and those that said they were not scared were liars or fools. Clouds streamed from the partly opened window matching the grey curl of exhaust that quickly dispersed. The youthful chatter was a combination of nervous banality and foolish jokes.

Hoover sat in the back, more nervous than the rest. He had fidgeted a great deal since the car had come to rest adding little to the chatter. He had fondled the long-bladed knife with gloved hands, the object wrapped within a transparent, plastic bag. No fingers and no DNA he had been instructed. Its matt black blade was curved and serrated along the top edge. The lower edge was finely honed. He swallowed deeply. Removing the plastic, he tossed it from the window before slipping the blade up the sleeve of his jacket.

‘Fucking quiet in the back, Hoover, my old mucker. It’s fucking easy. Just make sure it goes in hard and comes out with a twist, like you do your women.’ Laughter seemed to fill the small space. Hoover smiled.

It was time to make a move. The location they had chosen was to the far end of the cemetery. The small passageway between two Victorian semi-detached houses led to the top gate. It was narrow, a cul-de-sac and unsuitable for a car, a pedestrian entry to the graveyard. It was also dark. It would serve their purpose.

Within two minutes they had parked within yards of the T-junction. It was an area of the city accommodating many students and therefore a rich and lucrative area for Beverley to ply her trade. The three would now have another nervous wait but if the information was correct it would only be a matter of time before their intended target appeared. Just how many would be in the group was an uncertainty. If there were too many they would stay in the car and when safe, leave.

Two youths, walking hurriedly, crossed the end of the road directly in front of the car. The passenger was the first to spot them and nudged the driver with his elbow.

‘Fuck, they’re earlier than I thought and there’s only a couple of them. She’s one of them. Bonus lads. Game fucking on.’

All three scrambled from the car, pulling up their neck tubes to conceal their faces. Each tube was patterned with a different design. Hoover’s resembled the face of a laughing clown,