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

top of a passageway linking the university to the main road. It was his regular drop. Text messages gave time and location which varied. He had worked it to perfection. It was within five minutes of a remote lay-by where the van had dropped him. He would be collected at another point. The goods were round his shoulder in what looked like a laptop case. He was dressed casually and looked to all intents and purposes like another student. He wore a helmet too.

The bike was different and certainly a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Normally the electric motor was governed, allowing a limited speed, but this had been modified. The bike was both fast off the mark and could achieve speeds of forty-five miles per hour. That and an ability to thread through the narrowest of gaps made it a difficult bike to chase.

The person approached on time. The relevant conversation took place and the swap was made, a simple procedure but highly effective. Three such transactions a day were extremely profitable for all concerned.

Chapter 19

It was 11am. Kelly waited at Gathurst Station, her hood up and cap peak lowered. She studied the ticket machine, deposited the correct change and withdrew the ticket. She leant on the fence some distance away from the only other person waiting, an elderly gentleman with a large brown dog. The bird song was vibrant but the rumble of vehicles on the M6 motorway viaduct that traverses the Douglas Valley seemed even louder. It had woken her when it was at its morning peak. She rubbed her hands. The day seemed warmer and it was good to move from her temporary burrow. Two nights in there had taught her she needed to find somewhere warm where she could get hot food. She would not return.

It took less than seven minutes to travel into Wigan. The train was quiet, the carriage empty. On arrival at Wigan, she threw her rucksack over her shoulder, found her bearings and trudged up the steps taking her from the platform. The handrails ran centrally and she took the right-hand steps before glancing at the sign written large and suspended over the exit.

Welcome to Wigan Wallgate

She paused momentarily wondering if she was doing the right thing. A flutter of nerves filled her empty stomach. Popping her ticket into the barrier she passed through the turnstile.

Like the train, the road outside was relatively quiet. Turning left she walked toward the pedestrian area. Some pubs were already open but others were boarded up. They had served their final drink. She glanced at the war memorial through a gap between two buildings and then noticed the figure huddled in a doorway. Although she did not have much money, she placed a pound coin into the outstretched gloved hand. A head looked up and Kelly was surprised to see a female face. Pausing she crouched. She studied the girl: her hair, her fingers.

‘Are you alright?’ Kelly’s tone was concerned and sincere.

The girl wiped her nose on her sleeve and nodded. Kelly could read her like a book. She had been there herself, experienced the loneliness until being sucked into the insidious bosom of a gang. Smiling, she dug in her pocket for a second coin.

‘I need help myself. A night shelter, some food and clothes.’

‘Sharon,’ she stuck out her gloved hand again.

Kelly was taken aback but reached out and took it. ‘Kelly.’ She smiled and enjoyed the human touch, the gentleness and sincerity.

After a few words, the girl pointed across the road to a narrow alleyway between a pub and a takeaway. ‘At the end of there. They’ll help you and ask few questions. It’s secure. They’re helping me. Keep safe, Kelly. And thanks.’

For the first time, Kelly saw her smile. She reached and touched the girl’s hand once more. ‘Thank you. Stay safe, too.’

Kelly crossed the road and headed towards the entrance to what could best be described as a ginnel. It was neither inviting nor threatening; it was a throwback to a bygone age. The narrow roadway comprised cobbles broken by two lines of flagstones, a cart width apart. They were worn from use. A boarded window held frayed and faded posters. Her attention was drawn to the largest. She could just read the greyed-out print.

Starsailor

Robin Park Arena

13th July, 2016

She had never heard of the band. She traced the date with her finger. Where was she then? The image of the band members was faded and ghostly. She stared at it, trying to bring the faces into focus, but all she could see were Abid’s features appearing from within the weather bleached paper. ‘I miss you, Abid.’ Removing the small plastic bag containing the remnant of his clothing, she inhaled what little smell remained. ‘You’d know what to do.’

Turning away she took a deep breath as if trying to purge the previous moments. There were no tears this time and she knew for her own survival that she had to turn him into the image on the poster. She had to bleach and blur him from her head, make him fade away. She had to move on.

Tony was the first to see the report from HOLMES. The addition of the link between Skeeter’s intelligence and the latest information, had signalled a need to investigate. He knew that she would be fuming. He thought of sending it as a paper dart but then revised his thinking. He would just tell her.

‘Shit!’ The scream and the sound of Skeeter’s clenched fist hitting her desk reverberated around the room. ‘You have to be fucking joking! When?’

Tony held out the printed details that were at best sketchy. Grabbing the paper, she read it before raising her eyes. Tony found it difficult to return her stare.

‘“A body found awaiting ID and Forensic examination,”’ she continued to read out loud. ‘“Initial finding: severe damage to the front of the shop, the room directly above and parts of the roof. A body discovered beneath the collapsed stairs.