For the Love of Liverpool

by Ruth Hamilton

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And please say goodbye to Kate from me. I’m leaving Liverpool tomorrow.’

  ‘Does Amber know you’re running away from her? Don’t you need her permission? If she has abandonment issues—’

  ‘She doesn’t know, so she may go berserk. I’m going to Yale for research purposes, and I won’t be coming back any time soon. I may be wrong to suspect Amber, but her behaviour suddenly changed when I showed her the story in the paper and she realized that Kate is alive. She’s become very pensive.’ He thinks for several seconds. ‘It has to be someone who followed you to the prison. Did anyone know where you were going?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then perhaps Amber followed you, or she set someone after you from the moment you left home. It’s hard to understand a person who’s so totally focused. Amber knows what she wants and she gets what she wants, fair means or foul.’

  ‘I must find a way to get Kate out of here, Giles.’

  He nods. ‘She’s had surgery?’

  ‘Yes. Punctured lung, torn diaphragm, broken bone in her calf. She’s tough. They saved her spleen, but she has some concussion and broken ribs.’

  ‘And I’m damned sure Amber Simpson has borderline personality disorder. She reacts fiercely, does things without worrying about consequences, thinks about herself and no one else. I’m her spare. You know how royals are supposed to have an heir and at least one spare? Well, if she can’t get you, she thinks she’ll get me. A doctor’s not a bad catch, but you’re her real target.’

  I smile ruefully. ‘Good luck in the US, Giles. Will you see Amber before you go?’

  ‘No bloody way. She thinks I’m busy writing a paper on childhood leukaemia.’ He grips my arm. ‘Don’t let Kate out of your sight.’

  ‘I won’t. She has guards, too. My staff at work will keep the wheels turning. I won’t speak to the police about your theory until you’re out of the country. Mind, if Ms Simpson gets arrested, you may be called upon as a witness.’

  He shrugs. ‘Que sera, sera. If she’s under arrest, I’ll be safe. Meanwhile, look after yourself as well as Kate. Amber isn’t predictable – she may turn on you, because if she can’t have you, no one else can. I thought she was going to kill me when I dropped gravy on her precious linen.’

  We shake hands. ‘I think the linen was probably Kate’s,’ I tell him.

  ‘Everything in that flat is Kate’s. Goodbye for now, Alex.’

  I watch as he walks away from me, from Kate, from the hospital and Liverpool. When he disappears from view, I conjure up a picture of the elegant and perfect manager of Chillex, so laid back, unruffled no matter what might occur during any working day. Appearances can certainly be deceptive. And oh, my God, I’ve conjured her up in reality! That is uncanny. I hope she didn’t catch sight of Giles, who’s supposed to be doubled up over a laptop somewhere. I wipe all trace of surprise from my expression – she must learn nothing from me.

  ‘Alex,’ she says in a voice that’s probably meant to be seductive. ‘I came to visit Kate.’ I notice the floral arrangement she’s brought. ‘A few pretty flowers might cheer her up a bit,’ she adds.

  My brain races when adrenalin comes to the fore. ‘No visitors,’ I tell her. ‘Apart from family, that is. And because her condition is the result of attempted murder, she’s under police guard.’ I watch as she fixes her face in neutral mode. ‘Also, she looks a bit of a mess, so she won’t want people looking at her.’

  She tries to hand me the flowers, but I don’t take them. ‘Use them at home, Amber. Kate can’t see well at the moment, so she’ll get little pleasure from them.’ I look at her almost dead eyes, no feeling, no light, no life. ‘If it takes me forever, I will rip Liverpool apart brick by brick until I find the freak who tried to kill her.’ There’s a flash of something in her eyes, a look that bears some relationship to hatred. I fold my arms. ‘Can you imagine the mentality of a creature who sets out to murder a beautiful young woman?’

  She shakes her head, reminding me of a toy animal that works on batteries, just movement, no emotion.

  ‘To do this to Kate, he or she must place no value on life, on his or her immortal soul, on the laws of man and God.’ She’s looking now at some children coming out of the hospital. Ah, perhaps the woman can no longer meet my eyes? I continue. ‘It was a green car speeding at well over the limit on the wrong side of the road. The numbers four and seven were on the plate.’

  Her attention returns to me. ‘I hope Kate’s soon better.’ She glances at her wristwatch. ‘I must go. There are things I need to do in the flat while I have a few days off work.’

  In her haste to escape my company, she staggers slightly. Amber Simpson never staggers. Every move, every calorie, every word is accounted for. Is it possible that someone so bright and confident might be mentally ill? I can’t talk to Tim, because he will be on his way to the airport soon.

  The policeman called Terry emerges to have a cigarette. He and another constable named Chas are responsible for Kate’s safety in the hospital. I ask him if Chas is in place, and he says he is. ‘Any news on the car?’ I enquire.

  ‘Scrap,’ is his reply. ‘It’s been written out of the system, so further investigations are ongoing.’

  ‘Car graveyards, then?’

  He nods.

  Shall I tell him? No. I don’t want a fleet of cop cars racing down to Sefton Park, do I? This is something I must do myself. ‘Before you go off shift and when you’ve smoked your fag, will you go up and tell Kate something?’

  ‘Yeah. As long as you don’t blow me up for smoking in uniform.’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Well then, sir?’

  ‘It’s Alex. Tell her I’m going to work. There are a few things I need to sort out for myself.’

  ‘No problem, Alex.’

  ‘So that means there’ll be free drinks for you and a friend at Cheers. One night only, not Friday or Saturday.’

  ‘Thanks, Alex.’

  ‘Welcome.’ I leave him to finish his fag.

  Must change cars. I’ll go home and get the dog van minus dogs. Second garage, red doors. First, I phone the office to get Amber’s full address so that I can update my system. Dark glasses – the sun is shining. Concentrate, man. Kate is out of danger; Amelia will soon be safe.

  Less than an hour later, I’m parked halfway between Amber’s flat and the row of garages. Instead of my Kate, there are a number of items on the passenger seat – a cold bag containing soft drinks, chocolate and a pasta salad. Next to that, a bolt cutter and a pair of handcuffs reflect the sunlight.

  She paced up and down the huge living area until she felt a drop in sugar level. As she preached often enough at Chillex, a person didn’t need to be diabetic to suffer the shakes and sudden weakness that resulted from exercising on an empty stomach.

  Opening a drawer in the dresser, she took glucose tablets from their packaging and placed them on her tongue; glucose would have to suffice, since she had no appetite. Protein? At this point in time, arsenic would be preferable. Where the hell was he? She’d paid him half to do the deed, while the other half was ready and waiting for him once his mission had been accomplished.

  But he had failed; the bloody woman was still alive. Gus was a likeable villain who had been refused membership but still hung round endlessly behind the club. For Amber he would have done just about anything, because it was she who saved up leftover food or items whose dates had just run out, and she always gave him a drink of coffee, tea or pop to go with his meal. Perhaps she’d suspected that she might need him one day?

  How or where he had acquired the ten-year-old green Ford she had no idea. Very few people these days drove green cars. The colour was out of fashion, or was considered unlucky, but whatever the reason Gus’s vehicle would have been noticeable. The sooner it was disposed of the better.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’

  The doorbell sounded at last. She pressed a button. ‘Hello?’

 
‘It’s me – Gus.’

  ‘Come up.’ She activated the mechanism that opened the main front door.

  When he tapped at her own door, she flung it open. As soon as he was inside, she turned on him. ‘Where the hell were you? She’s still alive.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry, but I did my best.’ He looked round the room. ‘Very nice,’ he commented.

  ‘Why a green car?’

  He blinked. ‘I didn’t walk into a car showroom and ask for a test drive, love. There was no choice – I had to find a car what some daft sod had left for scrap with keys in the ignition. There’s no time to be looking at colours or engine size; you just take what you can get.’

  ‘Well, the police know part of the number plate. We have to get rid of it tonight. Did you put the can of petrol in the boot?’

  ‘I did.’ He paused. ‘Do I get the rest of the money?’

  ‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘Once the car’s been cremated, I’ll pay you.’

  ‘You’re a queen,’ he said. ‘Now, what do we do till it gets dark?’

  She glared at him. ‘The same as always – I give you food, and you eat it. I’ll put the TV on for you. There’s Sky, so you’ll find something you want to watch.’

  While cod and oven chips baked, Amber threw together a salad and cut some French bread. He ate on the sofa, but she decided to leave him to it; the sofa was a step up from paving stones outside the back door of Chillex. From time to time, she walked to the front window and stared out at the street. Nothing unusual was happening, and the van that had been parked down the road for several hours had moved away. Someone must have had a tradesman working on their house.

  ‘All clear on the western front?’ Gus asked.

  ‘Yes. We’ll be good to go once the light has gone properly. There’s a spectacular sunset again.’ Though she talked of matters mundane, her mind was fully employed in planning how to rid the world of Kate Price. Poison? A gun? Knives and other hand weapons were so messy . . .

  ‘Why do you want her dead?’

  This question from Gus cut through her thoughts with all the sharpness of a well-honed hand weapon. ‘Personal,’ was the only reply she offered.

  ‘She’s Price’s missus, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you want him.’

  Amber rounded on him. ‘It’s not that at all. She was given a directorship just because she married the boss. Some of us have given our all to the Price company, but she just drifts in from London, marries him, and gets the job. I’m not the only one who resents her.’

  Gus blinked a couple of times. ‘No, but you’re the only one who wants her dead.’

  ‘This conversation is closed,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ll get your money, and that will be the end of it.’ She walked out of the room and left him to his own devices. But he had better not get mayonnaise on that sofa . . .

  Thirteen

  ‘I don’t think I like it.’ Brenda was in the back seat of the hire car which Tim had picked up at the airport after they’d landed in France. She was white-faced and had been that way since arriving at the departure gate, when she’d caught sight of the aircraft they were to travel on. She’d spent the entire flight with her eyes tightly shut, shaking quietly. Nobody had ever seen her go so long without speaking before.

  Now she was back on terra firma the shaking had stopped, but she was by no means back to her old self. Tim was driving on the wrong side of the road and so was everyone else. The machine that told them the way to go spoke in a foreign language, like everyone at the airport they’d landed at. It was all a far cry from Liverpool and she was deeply unhappy. But she didn’t want to make a fuss as they were here with only one object in mind: to find Amelia, ensure she was safe, and bring her slowly back home. For that she was prepared to endure the torment of French motorways. But it didn’t mean she had to like it.

  ‘Après deux kilomètres, tournez à droit.’ The satnav made no sense to her but Tim nodded as if he was expecting this instruction.

  ‘Not far now,’ he said, and she was comforted by the knowledge that he seemed to know what he was doing.

  Julia, who was in the back seat beside her – having shorter legs than Brian, who’d bagged the front passenger position – put her hand reassuringly over Brenda’s. ‘We should be there in under half an hour,’ she said. ‘And remember, Tim’s been driving on the right all the time he was with me in Vermont. He’s had plenty of practice.’

  Brenda nodded, still unable to speak, and slightly mortified that her terror was so obvious. But it was all right for people like Tim and Julia. They travelled all over the place all the time. Then she remembered that Tim himself was phobic about flying. She hadn’t noticed if he’d taken anything, but she supposed with him being a doctor and everything he could prescribe himself whatever worked best. As long as it didn’t affect his driving . . .

  She’d been staring straight ahead through the windscreen ever since they’d set off, illogically afraid to look to either side in case that caused them to veer off the road and into a ditch. But now she cautiously let down her guard and began to take in the countryside they were passing through. Obviously it wasn’t a patch on Merseyside, but all the same she was impressed with the lush trees and, as they turned off the main road and onto a more rural one, the buildings alongside. They looked nothing like houses back home. Everything was different, even the windows with their shutters, but she could see why people would come all this way on their holidays. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad spending some time here. She tried not to think about the food – how it would taste foreign and unfamiliar. She must put the longing for a proper beef stew firmly out of her mind – it didn’t do to dwell on what you couldn’t have.

  The satnav said some more strange things and Tim looked as if he understood what it meant. Finally Brenda plucked up the nerve to ask what was on her mind.

  ‘Where are we going? I mean, are we going straight to find that poor child and her grandparents or what?’

  Tim laughed from the front seat. ‘We went through this at the airport, Mrs Bee, but you were probably too preoccupied to remember.’ He swung the wheel around and she could see they were approaching the outskirts of a town. ‘We’re going to go to a hotel first, to settle in. We don’t want to turn up at the Powers’ all travel-weary and frighten Amelia, do we?’

  Brenda approved of that. ‘Very sensible,’ she said. ‘And where will that be?’

  The satnav spoke again in its weird language.

  ‘About five minutes away,’ said Tim, manoeuvring through an increasingly narrow set of streets. Striped awnings hung over the buildings and the pavements were set with chairs and tables. Julia was smiling broadly.

  ‘It’s been many a long year since I was in France,’ she said. ‘I’d almost forgotten how they love dining al fresco.’

  Brenda wanted to ask what this Alf had to do with anything, but just then Tim pulled up outside a stone building that was clearly very old.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’

  Brian stepped out and stretched his legs, his joints creaking in protest as he did so. He looked around with a slight frown, but he couldn’t help admiring the quality of the stonework. ‘This place looks all right,’ he stated.

  Tim went to the boot and began lifting out their cases. Julia struggled with hers, and Brian came to her rescue. ‘Here you go, love.’ He felt very protective towards this still frail young woman who’d been through so much and was now giving up her honeymoon to rescue a child she didn’t know from Adam. Or Eve, more like.

  Brenda looked around the broad square, taking in the people dressed for sunshine, dark glasses propped elegantly on their heads, the relaxed atmosphere and the cool of the shade where they stood. It was a million miles from anything she’d known before and she’d never thought she’d ever end up anywhere remotely like this. But she was here to do a job, out of loyalty to Alex and that poor girl even now lying in hospital, fighting t
o get well enough to welcome back her daughter. She stood straighter, pulling back her shoulders. If she could be Other Mother to a big softy like Alex Price, well, maybe she could be Other Gran to the child who would one day be his daughter.

  *

  Alex paced around his kitchen, unable to relax, trying to gather his thoughts. He had to maintain his focus, keep everything clear, as he was in this on his own. Kate was in no state to help him sort out his whirling ideas and there was no way he’d worry her with these details. Tim by now would be safely in France with his three musketeers – which meant there were no Bees to confide in either. He didn’t think the ones out in the hives would be much use.

  He’d found the garage with the red doors easily enough and the lock had been laughably simple to break. Nobody had taken a blind bit of notice as he swiftly went inside the gloomy structure, a small and grimy window at the back allowing in just enough light to mean that he didn’t have to use his torch. The filtered daylight revealed what he’d hoped and feared to find: a rustbucket of a car in a bilious shade of green. No wonder that particular colour had never caught on. For his purposes it was usefully distinctive, though. A cursory check of the number plate confirmed his worst suspicions: it matched what they knew. This was the car that had aimed itself at his precious Kate.

  He’d fought to contain himself, summoning all his self-control not to lash out at the wreck of a vehicle. Rage rose in him in powerful waves, but this was not the time or place to express it. Furthermore, he had to save his energy for later. He’d come for proof and he’d found it. Now he had to act.

  Forcing himself to move calmly, he left the garage as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, pulling the doors closed so that they looked exactly as they had before he had broken in. He returned to his van and drove a short distance, parking round the corner. Then he called the police, stressing who he was and what he had found – that there was little room for doubt this was the car they were seeking in connection with the attempted murder outside Walton prison. And that the garage was rented by none other than his employee, Amber Simpson.