Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2) - Malcolm Hollingdrake (world of reading TXT) 📗

that make the difference, he used to say. I just flog them. It’s my afternoon off so I thought I should come and pay homage to Sir Henry.’

‘So that’s why there’s a pub and eatery called the Sir Henry Segrave? Do you know I never saw the connection until now and I’ve lived in Southport all my life too. Thought Sir Henry was some sort of politician!’

Carlos ate the remaining half of teacake and sipped his coffee. ‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere.’ He looked across, an inquisitive expression on his face.

‘You ever bought a car?’

Brian shook his head screwing his eyes up. ‘I haven’t, but where have I seen you?’

‘It’s amazing how many people say that. They spend an hour with me in the showroom and I meet them six months later and they say “I know you.”’ He laughed and finished his coffee. ‘Working in retail’s like that. The girl who served you will tell you the same. You might possibly have seen me in the Sir Henry. I drink there often, more so now that I’m living at home. I’m sure we’d come to blows, mother and me, if I didn’t get out of the house.’ He laughed and raised his eyebrows. ‘Must get a move on. I’ll have another look around that beautiful old car and then home. I’ll be popping along to the pub tonight for a meal, I think. The name’s Lloyd.’ He stood and came over proffering his hand.

‘Brian, but people call me Carlos. Nice to meet you. And thanks for the history lesson. I’ll know where to come when I need a car.’

‘Indeed. If you fancy a drink and something to eat, I’ll be in Sir Henry at about seven thirty.’ The wink forced home the not-so-subtle inuendo.

Carlos blushed slightly when he said it. The fact that Lloyd’s eyes lingered just a moment too long on his caused a shiver of excitement and brought a tingle. He had just been chatted up and he liked it. On leaving the table he went towards the girl behind the counter. He had a slight spring to his step. Smiling at the waitress he asked the question. ‘Do people who come in here sometimes bump into you on the street and stop you, suggesting that they’ve seen you somewhere before?’

‘All the time, Brian. They’re not used to seeing me away from here and out of this outfit. One old dear thought I was her niece! Comes with the job.’

On leaving The Atkinson, the wind was driving the light rain in translucent sheets down Lord Street. He pulled up his hood and headed back to work.

Nicola greeted him. ‘You seem to have had a good break?’

He smiled. ‘Bloody weather! You might say that, it just might possibly have been profitable and that’s all I’m saying.’ His facial expression said it all. ‘I’m all tongue tied!’

‘Jim told me you found something you’d been looking for when you moved the furniture in the treatment room. Wasn’t the twenty pound note I lost at Christmas was it?’ She chuckled.

Carlos shook his head. ‘No, just something and nothing, my notebook.’

Nicola’s remark reminded him he needed to contact DI Decent as that would be the right thing to do. Although to him at the moment the majority of the contents of the book meant nothing, to the police they might prove to be vital. He took his phone and went to the treatment room. As he checked for the number, he heard the door and realised he had a client. It would have to wait until later.

Chapter 22

Tico’s ears twitched as the key turned in the lock. Stretching his legs, he pulled himself up before arching his back. His tail, tucked and curled between his back legs, moved frantically, his usual excited greeting before launching himself at April as she walked into the hall.

‘Missed me, Tico? Walk?’

There was no greater sign of enthusiasm but he headed immediately for the door. Grabbing his lead, she pulled on some wellington boots, an old coat and they left. The beach beckoned and the breeze and fresh sea air would blow away the confusion that had accumulated throughout the working day. Tico immediately relieved himself against a post, his post, as he did on most trips from the house. Soon he pulled out the lead to its fullest extent. Like April, he was glad to stretch his long legs.

Before leaving work, she had jotted down evidence from the case for Michael to chase up, attached to a note requesting miracles be done during the hours of darkness. The photographs, the friends’ lists and the latest intelligence were his on which to work his magic.

Noting there had been no response from the public concerning the appeal for details on the person seen in the background of the photographs, Michael turned to search the work carried out by Lynda’s facial recognition unit. The approximate age of the individual had been established, alongside hair and skin colour. His task would be to dig further into the images of the party which had now been released.

Carlos had not given the notepad much consideration on leaving work. The idea of contacting the police had evaporated the more he thought about Lloyd and the possibility of a surprise meeting at the Sir Henry. He wondered if Lloyd suspected he would accept his invitation. He had showered and dressed before inspecting his appearance in the mirror. He checked his nails; as always, they were immaculate. ‘152.33 miles per hour for Sir Henry but our Lloyd’s a fast worker too,’ he addressed his reflection. For some reason the words ‘decimal point’ came to mind and along with it an extended flush of excitement.

The evening air and the darkening sky brought with it a chill once the heat of the day had left the streets. A light mist had crept in from the sea to take its place. It gave a magical, blurred look to the lights of the darkened