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

thought they could make a living by diving from the piers that were prevalent in the major seaside resorts such as New Brighton, Southport and Blackpool. There was no opportunity of their working as manual labourers so the bright ones looked at ways to make a living or supplement a wage. I read they would shout, “Don’t forget the diver, don’t forget the diver as every penny makes the water warmer!” Our man there was an academic. But when I did more research, I discovered that he didn’t lose a leg in the war but was born with only one leg. Now, let’s see if you are observant my dear Carlos. Get this right and you win a coffee. Which leg was missing on the diver?’

‘The left one.’

‘Correct. But when I saw a photograph taken in period of the man, Professor Gadsby, it showed that it was his right leg that was missing. So, is that Gadsby or not?’

‘Are you making all this up?’

‘Nope. Would I lie to you?’ he did not wait for the reply. ‘On a modern computer you can reverse a photograph and providing it doesn’t contain writing it still looks genuine. To me, this is what happened with the old sepia picture, it was reversed or I like to believe it was. Whatever the case, he’ll always be Gadsby the mono-pod diver to me. Now let’s get you a coffee.’

Within minutes Lloyd had called a taxi.

‘Why not get coffee on Lord Street?’ Brian again felt uneasy. ‘Why a taxi?’

‘I live in Birkdale. I make great coffee and I have good music. Have the murders unnerved you? Could I be the killer stalking handsome young men and women?’

Brian looked at Lloyd and took a hesitant step backwards. ‘I think I should just go home.’

‘A killer who would meet his next victim in a public place where there are loads of cameras, walk with you to Silcock’s which is bristling with cameras too? Stand by the statue that I feel sure is monitored and then get in a taxi that I have phoned for? That’s an awful lot of incriminating evidence for the police to follow if they find you dead.’ He stared at Brian and put his hands on his shoulders. ‘I’m simply offering you a coffee. After that, I’ll get you a taxi home.’

‘And you live with your mother?’ Brian replied. ‘At least you told me you did or has that changed?’

‘Unfortunately, yes, and her partner too. For the time being at least. However, things might soon change. Life has a way of creating new opportunities.’

The taxi pulled up by the war memorial. ‘What’s it to be. I can ask him to take you home or …’

Brian pondered for a moment and then smiled and nodded. ‘Sorry, don’t know what came over me, Lloyd. Coffee sounds perfect.’

Lloyd leaned over and gave the driver an address. ‘Rotten Row, the junction with Weld Road.’

‘It’s only a couple of minutes by taxi but a pain in the arse to walk. You need your coffee too.’ Lloyd smiled.

‘Rotten Row, such a charming address.’ Brian pulled a face.

It took three minutes. Brian climbed out leaving Lloyd to pay. ‘Thanks, just live back there.’ He pointed down the road as he smiled to the driver. ‘This is fine.’

Lloyd waited until the taxi turned and headed back towards the town centre. ‘My house is just around the corner. Needed some air. It’s a couple of minutes from here.’

The house was large, detached, red-bricked and again Victorian. A light was on in the porch. Brian paused at the gates and looked at the scale of the place. The front garden had seen better days and so, too, had the house. It was showing its age and there was a general air of neglect.

‘I know,’ Lloyd laughed. ‘Has a touch of the dramatic don’t you think? Dracula’s Castle comes to mind. Thought that as a kid and wouldn’t venture either to the attic or the cellar. Always been a bit of a wimp. How are you, Brian, big and brave or are you like me, a bit of a coward when push comes to pull?’

‘Never really thought about it much. Not good at school owing to being dyslexic. I’ve found my vocation now thanks to Ca—’ He did not finish and left the sentence hanging.

He changed the subject back to the house. ‘Most of the houses along here have been converted into apartments, nice ones too. Originally, when my parents were together that was their idea. My grandfather used to convert unwanted properties in the centre of town and my father worked with them. In the seventies few people neither wanted nor could afford to keep them, so they were converted either into apartments or businesses. When he left university, he took responsibility for the interior designing. He was good too, but then my parents split up. My father kept some in town and my mother got this after some wrangling over their split. My brother and I were left in the middle. Mind you, what was once a negative about the size of this place is now a positive as I have a section of the house to myself. We can be like ship’s that pass in the night.’

The front of the house had a curved driveway comprising chippings that crunched beneath their feet. Grass grew in areas, predominantly where cars or feet had not trodden for some time. Brian paused again and looked at the house from the front. It reminded him of the type of house a child might draw. It was almost symmetrical with the door to the centre and two windows on either side. He thought of the small terraced home he shared with his mother. In consolation, his was the better maintained.

The entrance hall was expansive too, and a staircase ran to the right. They passed the mahogany, curved handrail when heading for a door at the far end. Lloyd opened it and showed Brian in whilst putting on