Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2)

by Malcolm Hollingdrake

  Lloyd laughed loudly. ‘I know. How about we say, “in for a penny, in for a pound”?’

  Carlos nodded and they set off down Coronation Walk. Within minutes they approached the covered Gallopers Carousel standing outside the amusement hall; it was busy. Myriad lights sparkled and flashed, a siren to the carefree and the foolish. They stood and admired the painted carousel. The beautiful, colourful horses were still visible but were now trapped behind the steel mesh for the evening. Lloyd noticed the camera protruding from the amusement building roof that was focused just on the fairground ride. He turned and grabbed Carlos.

  ‘Smile, you’re on camera!’ They both looked up, posing.

  ‘Cheese,’ Carlos responded before turning to point towards a bronze male figure atop a column, who looked as if he was about to dive into a pool. On closer inspection, he realised the diver had only one leg. He wore a helmet of sorts and an old-fashioned bathing suit. ‘I’ve seen this statue so often but I’ve never studied it. One leg! See, I hadn’t noticed that.’

  ‘Let’s not go in and gamble away our ill-gotten gains, let’s just walk and I’ll tell you all about this character.’ Lloyd pointed to the diver. ‘It might be apocryphal but you’ll love the tale. What do you say?’

  Carlos nodded his agreement. ‘Apocryphal? Sorry but you’ve lost me already.’

  Lloyd slipped an arm into the crook of his elbow and moved him along turning back the way they had come but dropping down towards the privacy of the lower promenade.

  ‘Apocryphal, Carlos? Tonight, my friend, I might just be telling you a whole pack of lies!’ He glanced sideways searching for a reaction but none was forthcoming. ‘That man, my dear boy, is allegedly Professor Gadsby. Now what do you know about the one-legged pier divers?’

  Carlos laughed out loud. ‘Like the word apocryphal, I know absolutely nothing, but I feel I’m going to find out and have my leg pulled anytime soon.’

  He had been listening but Lloyd wondered if at all he had been heeding.

  April,

  I hope your evening was as profitable as mine. I did enjoy the files but whether a miracle has been performed is for you to decide. If so, I shall expect to see an increase in my monthly salary! All has been updated.

  You need to speak to Taylor and Gaskell about the parties held at the apartment. They both appear in the photographs but they were never at the same party. I’ve organised the pictures to show the different dates. When they were present, they seem to be chatting to many of the guests but I can’t find one picture that includes both men. Secondly, when we do see them, both are observed using their phones as a camera and we’ve not requested those images. I’ve taken the liberty of submitting the request. To ensure co-operation, I’ve organised for officers to ‘read’, I think that’s the terminology, their phones early tomorrow in the hope we can prevent the deletion of any content. We might be too late for that … we’ll see.

  We also have our missing man; the one spotted at the back of the group shots taken around town. He’s in one picture where we can see a clear side profile, and in some others too, but they’re rear head shots. The hair, however, is of interest as it clearly shows signs of premature male patterned baldness. I’m aware some people have a skill of avoiding being captured on film, my wife has it. I feel that like her, he’s such a person. However, that clearly contradicts the fact that he openly sat and watched photographs being taken of the group and I suggest he’d have known that his face would be captured. Whether he thought we would go to such lengths in analysing the images is another matter.

  Finally, did some checking at Jaguar regarding Trevor Thomas. He resigned. He wasn’t sacked. He’d had mental issues since his mother was diagnosed and found it hard to concentrate and then it was impossible for him to leave her. He became her part-time carer. He’d taken a good deal of leave on compassionate grounds by the time of her death. They had told him he was welcome to return to work when he could meet the demands of the job. I’ve attached the contact details of an Emma Barnes with whom I spoke last night.

  I’ll leave that with you.

  Michael

  Chapter 23

  Walking away from the pier, the privacy and emptiness of the lower promenade suddenly became apparent and Brian suddenly felt vulnerable and frightened for the first time. He realised Lloyd had directed the whole evening and he had followed. For some strange reason the nursery rhyme flooded his mind: ‘Would you walk into my parlour?’ said the spider to the fly. He stopped walking.

  ‘Are you alright, Carlos? You’ve gone very quiet.’

  His words were calm and reassuring. His smile diffused the sense of danger.

  ‘I’m fine. I could kill a coffee.’

  ‘You are dying for a coffee? So, coffee it will be. As we walk let me finish the tale. Our man on the pole was a pier diver. After the First World War there were a number of amputees. Some bright spark 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 un
til 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 the light.

  ‘Take a seat. I’ll add music and get the coffee. How do you like it?’

  Brian looked around the room. It was well-designed, if not a little dated in his eyes and non too clean. His mother would not approve. The music, however, was perfect. He liked Snow Patrol.

  Within minutes, Lloyd returned. ‘Hope this is okay for you. I’ve brought a brandy too. I’ve enjoyed your company, Carlos. Let’s hope we can do this again. It was good to chat. I’ve been under quite a bit of stress lately. A confidence thing. Possibly too friendly, that’s my problem.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Brian sipped the coffee. It was stronger and not as hot as he would normally take it but it was coffee, and he drank it quickly. Moments later he paused. Suddenly his head began to swirl. ‘I’ve suddenly gone very dizzy, bloody Campari and soda coming back to haunt me,’ he chuckled before falling back into the settee.

  Lloyd sat and checked his watch. It should take fifteen to twenty minutes for the desired effect to take place. Brian’s eyes closed. Standing, he went to the hall door and left the room for a moment returning with a wheel chair. ‘Carlos, Carlos. Stand a minute. Let’s get you on your feet and into some fresh air.’

  Putting on the chair’s brake, he moved and helped Brian to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, his eyes now intermittently opening and closing. His arms were by his side and a dribble of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth. Lloyd turned him whilst holding Brian’s weight beneath his armpits before gradually lowering him onto the chair. He tossed a blanket over his legs. Brian was now just where he wanted him to be. In twenty minutes, he would be in the garage and there he would stay.

  Gaskell looked at his watch as the intercom bell rang. He had just put bread into the toaster and poured his coffee. On hearing it was the police, he reluctantly released the door lock, turned off the toaster, and taking his coffee, went to wait and watch as the two officers ascended the stairs.

  His smile was false as they took the last of the steps. One officer who seemed overweight and constantly wiping his brow, was carrying a small travel case.

  ‘To what do I owe this early morning pleasure?’ His sarcasm was direct.

  The officers explained the reason for the call and informed Gaskell that they neither needed a warrant nor any other legal documentation to copy certain specified contents from his phone. They also pointed out that the process could be done at the station in Liverpool should he have any objections to co-operating in his own home. They handed him a pamphlet detailing his rights.

  ‘Now?’ Gaskell’s voice had changed from being defensive as he showed them into the lounge area.

  ‘It won’t take long I can assure you. I believe you’re in possession of two phones, Mr Gaskell. Would that be correct?’

  Gaskell’s face flushed. 1984 came immediately to mind and that the monitoring state was more in evidence than he had imagined.

  ‘I do, a business and a private one. Which do you need?’

  ‘Both, sir, thank you.’

  Whilst one officer observed Gaskell, the other unboxed the equipment he needed. The download time suggested forty-three minutes.

  ‘What exactly are you taking from there without my consent?’

  ‘Your contacts and your photographs including those stored within the cloud or any others linked digitally to external storage facilities. After that, we’ll see.’

  Gaskell returned to the kitchen and slammed the toaster back on. He had the face of a worried man.

  Chapter 24

  Skeeter was at her desk early even though she had run that morning. She watched as April walked through to her office. It took two minutes before she heard her name called. On entering, April was waving Michael’s note.

  ‘He was at one of the parties.’

  ‘It’s on file. Checking the system, it’s all there, pics, the lot. The tech guys are at Gaskell’s and Taylor’s as we speak.’ She paused as April continued to sort her desk, uncertain as to whether she was actually listening. ‘Brian Briggs did not return home last night.’

  ‘What?’ She stopped immediately and looked directly at Skeeter.

  ‘It’s come straight through to us. His mother called this morning. He would normally ring if he were staying out overnight no matter what the time. He didn’t. The recorded phone call suggests she only called us early because of the killings and the fact that Carla had gone missing before. I’ve requested CCTV for the area he was supposed to be in, and the surrounds. That should be coming in soon.’

  Skeeter went around the desk and logged onto April’s computer, bringing up the relevant file and recording of the call. They listened to the conversation. It had to be said Mrs Briggs was calm and controlled until the very end when she mentioned Carla. She told them what she knew of his plans for the evening.

  ‘I want a member of the Family Liaison Team round there pronto. I also want both Rodgers and Sutch in here as soon as. Send a car, and I need the images from Gaskell and Taylor on this computer within the hour. Once you have finished get people into the Incident Room by nine.’

  Skeeter moved quickly and went straight to Control, passing on a list of the requirements she had just received. ‘Let me know a time for Sutch and Rodgers and call me when we have any CCTV footage.’

  April called Mason explaining Briggs’s disappearance and the planning she had put in place. She would have needed a sharp knife to cut the immediate silence.

  ‘Get his photograph out there. All media channels now. High Risk disappearance. I’ll be there as soon as.’

  Skeeter’s phone rang before she had reached the briefing. Sutch and Rodgers would be there within twenty minutes.
There was also a message to say Nicola from the beauty salon had arrived at the front desk demanding Carlos be found; she was in an irate state. A female police officer was with her. Skeeter made her way directly to try to calm the situation.

  On seeing Skeeter, Nicola stood. She looked broken.

  ‘His mother rang me. Is it true, and if so, what are you doing about it?’

  Skeeter looked at the other officer and they both ushered Nicola to a seat.

  ‘What do you know about yesterday’s events? I want you to think of everything he might have said or done. Take a deep breath and concentrate. Right now, we need you calm and functioning. You might hold the vital clue we need to find Carlos.’

  Although Skeeter received the call regarding the incoming CCTV, she redirected it. She spoke to Tony, her tone brisk. He soon switched on and linked the large interactive screen in the Incident Room to the recently sent file. The wonders of technology. The collected officers watched the edited footage.

  ‘He’s heading here towards the Sir Henry. Kasum, get onto the pub. I want all CCTV from last night. They’ll send it directly so check it and stay until you have confirmation it’s been sent. Emphasise the urgency.’

  They continued to watch as Briggs crossed Lord Street. Kasum sidled from the room. Briggs’s face was turned towards the camera positioned to focus down the street. The time and date were clearly marked at the corner of the images. The next frames showed him walking with another man towards Silcock’s Funland and the pier, an area bristling with cameras. Those had already been collected and edited and they had produced a number of clear facial images of both men.

  ‘We have a direct match for the guy who attended the party. If you check the rear view, he has the same balding area to the crown.’