All Saints- Murder on the Mersey

by Brian L. Porter

  “I see, yes, I get your point, but that's still great. How long have they been coming in to the pub, can you remember?”

  “Oh, I'd say at least for the last four or five years. They'd sit at a corner table in the bar. I'll show you their regular spot when we go through there again on your way out. If that table was taken they'd sometimes come in the lounge bar and take pot luck on a table.”

  Curtis was delighted with the result of his interview with the landlord of The Belerophon and felt sure D.I. Ross would be, too. He thanked Newman who duly showed him where the four men usually sat in the bar, and then duly departed and made his way back to headquarters, a sense of satisfaction overtaking his earlier trepidation at the sight of the very tall, heavily built ex-seaman, now the jolly 'mine host' of The Belerophon. Curtis made a mental note to try not to judge people quite so quickly based on nothing but their appearance. The tall and powerful Jamaican-born former seaman had just taught the young detective an important lesson that would serve him well in future investigations.

  Chapter 29

  A Woman of Many Faces

  Having spent most of the day in the office with Nick Dodds, pulling the required records of past rape, attempted rape and serious sexual cases as Ross had requested, Derek McLennan looked at his watch, stood up from his computer screen and stretched to loosen the stiff and aching muscles in his back and neck.

  “Had enough, Derek?” Dodds asked as Derek almost slumped into his chair again.

  “For now, yes. Listen, Nick, school's out now. Why don't we nip down to the canteen, grab a sandwich and give the Manvers woman time to get home? I pulled her address earlier, and it'll only take about twenty minutes to get there, traffic permitting. I don't think the boss will mind if you join me in going along to talk to her and two heads is better than one anytime. You might think of something I don't while interviewing her, unless you want to just head off home. It's been a long day, after all.”

  “What's to go home for?” Dodds replied. Since his divorce a few months earlier, Nick had left the marital home and now lived in a small rented flat above a Chinese restaurant in the city centre, not far from work. His evenings tended to be, long, lonely and monotonous, so he was in no hurry to finish work for the day.

  * * *

  Vera Manvers stepped from the shower, dried her body and then padded barefoot into her bedroom, where she quickly blow-dried her hair, and allowed it to fall into its natural wavy shoulder-length tresses. After sitting before her dressing table and applying her make-up, she dressed in a pair of comfortable, slim-fitting black slacks, topped with a lightweight cream coloured polo-neck sweater, then sat back on her dressing table stool to admire the transformation. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, knowing that the staff at Speke Hill would be hard-pressed to recognise the attractive, well manicured woman who stared back at her from the mirror from the dowdy spinster who arrived at work with hair tied in a bun, dressed in sensible skirts and blouses or sweaters depending on the weather with her low heeled, sensible shoes, and pale, make-up free face.

  She thought how surprised they'd be if they could see the real woman in her off duty garb, the above the knee skirts showing off a well formed pair of legs, her high heels and general appearance taking at least ten years off her apparent age.

  Vera Manvers was in fact much younger than she appeared to her colleagues at work. Even her name was a fabrication. Some five years earlier she'd scoured local churchyards, slowly building a list of names of children, mostly babies, who'd died in the first few months of life. With the help of her partner, she'd gradually completed extensive checks on her final short list of four names, finally selecting the one with not one single living relative, and therefore no chance of her new identity being accidentally revealed by some suspicious cousin, grandparent or whatever. Vera Manvers, who had died at the age of just two months in a tragic house fire, along with her parents and two siblings had been tailor-made for her plans. From there, it had been a simple matter of obtaining a copy of the dead child's birth certificate and, through the contacts her partner had established, obtaining enough fake documentation to quickly establish herself in her new identity. To ensure she would be able to continue to work legally and receive any state benefits she was entitled to, she quit her previous job, changed her name by Deed Poll to Vera Manvers, dropped out of circulation for nearly a year, and then returned to every day life in her new guise, ready to avenge her sister. Vera's plan for revenge had built up over a number of years, and she and Brenda's still devoted fiancé had decided the time was ripe for their plans to be put into fruition when 'number three' on their list rose to the verge of success in his chosen profession, one that would be a gross travesty in light of his 'other life' activities. He would be the next to feel the wrath of vengeance and by the time they got to him, he'd know the true meaning of fear, because by then he would know they were coming for him. They'd wanted to save him till last but circumstances had altered things drastically and they needed to move him up the list.

  Her sister had retained just enough of her wits and sanity to tell her the details of her attack before the full horror of what had befallen her had sent her into the state of semi-catatonia she now lived in. The next thing 'Vera' and Brenda's fiancé had done had been to follow their target for months, with Vera gradually finding a talent for disguise, being able to change her appearance almost at will, able to watch the man who'd been the prime mover in the attack on her sister with almost total impunity. Brenda had known the man slightly, but couldn't tell Vera much about the other three men who'd gang raped her as she and her so-called 'friend' Matthew Remington, had walked home from a date.

  Her surveillance of Matthew Remington, beginning from the time of his release from prison had instantly enabled her to identify Mark Proctor as another of the men involved. Using her new found skill as a mistress of disguise, she'd 'accidentally' bumped into the repulsive Remington in a pub one night and plied him with enough drink to discover he'd been brought up at Speke Hill Orphanage, a link to Mark Proctor who she'd learned was a teacher at the school there. It now became a possibility that all four of Brenda's assailants had a connection to Speke Hill, but the problem was, how could she and Brenda's fiancé confirm their suspicions? The answer soon presented itself. Brenda's fiancé had visited Speke Hill under the guise of a visiting child care official and discovered that the school secretary was on the verge of retirement. Now there only remained the problem of guaranteeing Vera got the job.

  They soon found that Charles Hopkirk, who would be responsible for interviewing and hiring the new secretary was something of a ladies man, who enjoyed trawling the city's clubs on Friday and Saturday nights, often managing to fall into bed with numerous one-night stands, probably all the worse for drink and or recreational drugs. Wearing a blonde wig, party clothes and heavily made up, a totally changed Vera, going under the name of 'Poppy Gillespie' followed Hopkirk to the Red Pelican club one night, waiting until he'd drunk enough to be slightly inebriated before making her move.

  Later that night, lying on her back with Hopkirk grunting above her, she'd pushed aside her revulsion long enough to get him to tell her about the vacancy at his workplace. Saying she had a friend who'd love to work at the orphanage, she'd allowed him to use her body again and promised to meet him the following week if he'd agree to consider her friend for the job.

  Five days later, 'Vera' arrived at Speke Hill for an interview and was promptly hired by Charles Hopkirk. He never once suspected that the prim and proper, dowdy spinster with a rather 'plummy'accent sitting across from him at the interview was the sexy and very gorgeous 'Poppy' he'd met at the club.

  The following Saturday night, 'Poppy' had met Hopkirk again as arranged. She needed to be certain he wasn't about to go back on their deal and found herself once again in his bed, promising herself this would be the last time. As he groaned and grunted his satisfaction for the last time, she lay back, thinking she'd never have to do this again, after he'
d told her how impressed he'd been with her 'friend' Vera Manvers.

  She was in! As much as it had disgusted her to virtually prostitute herself in such a way, she considered that opening her legs for Charles Hopkirk had been nothing more than a means to an end, a giant step in the quest for revenge for her sister's life having been effectively ended by Remington, Proctor and two more, as yet unidentified men. At least she was on the pill and there was no chance of Hopkirk's seed producing anything more than a short inconvenience as she washed herself in the bathroom after what would be her last 'date' with the odious little man.

  In the coming days, as Vera settled into her new job, Charles Hopkirk, puzzled that he hadn't seen Poppy in the club as usual, asked her 'friend' Vera if she was alright.

  When she informed Hopkirk that 'Poppy' had developed a rather nasty sexually transmitted disease and had retired from the social scene while undergoing treatment at the local STD clinic, the look on his face had been pure gold for Vera. He visibly paled and began to sweat as Vera informed him she was sure Poppy would look him up as soon as she was cured and 'back on the scene' ready to go clubbing again.

  “Are you alright, Mr. Hopkirk?” she'd asked, trying so hard to maintain a sweet and innocent demeanour. “You look a little pale.”

  “Oh, yes, of course, Vera, thank you. Please tell Poppy I'll look forward to seeing her soon,” said Hopkirk, deciding there and then to never set foot in the Red Pelican again. The next few weeks and months would be a continual source of worry for him as he checked and re-checked himself for any sign of scabs or lesions that might indicate him having contracted some dreaded sexual disease.

  Let the fat bastard suffer, Vera thought as she revelled in his misery.

  It took her quite a while in her new position to systematically scour the old records of Speke Hill in her search for any connections between Remington, Proctor and any other boys who may have been involved in any kind of illegal activity, either individually or as a group.

  She'd only conducted her search a small piece at a time, not wanting to draw attention to the fact she was searching past records of the school and orphanage, none of which bore any reference to her current employment so it took a little longer than she'd at first anticipated.

  Boys being boys, there had been a number of instances of lads from Speke Hill having been in trouble at various times, mostly for trivial and non-criminal offences.

  Eventually, her senses were alerted by a sealed envelope that carried the pencilled names, now a little faded, of Proctor, Remington and two others she'd never heard of before. With a shaking hand, she took her letter opener and without further hesitation, sliced the envelope open. She'd hit pay dirt! The whole incident relating to the attempted assault on the girl behind the pavilion was revealed to her, and now, at long last, she felt able to prepare, along with Brenda's fiancé, to exact revenge for her sister's treatment at the hands of the monsters who defiled her for life and so it began.

  * * *

  Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an unexpected knocking on her front door. Annoyed, as she rarely had visitors of any description, and certainly not unannounced ones, Vera walked to the door, pulled it open, expecting to find a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses or perhaps a double glazing salesman at her door and was instead surprised to find two police detectives, warrant cards already held up on display, standing on her doorstep.

  “Miss Vera Manvers?” the older of the two detectives asked.

  Struggling, and just managing to maintain her composure, Vera replied, “It's Ms Manvers, if you don't mind.”

  “Right, okay, Ms. Manvers,” said Nick Dodds. “Can we come in please?”

  “What's this about?” Vera asked.

  “Just a few more questions about Speke Hill,” Derek McLennan said in response to her question.

  “Well, yes, I suppose so, but I hope this won't take long, I have to go out soon.”

  “I can see that,” McLennan replied. His look at his fellow detective said it all. They'd both expected a dowdy spinsterish woman in her fifties to answer the door. Instead, they were both a little taken aback to see the very attractive, well dressed woman standing before them, who couldn't have been more than forty-five at the outside.

  They followed Vera into her tidy living room, and seated themselves in opposite armchairs. Vera sat on the sofa, and the act of crossing her legs made her already short skirt ride up, revealing even more of her well tanned and shapely legs.

  “Well?” she asked, aware that the two men were staring at her, particularly her legs.

  Derek McLennan spoke first.

  “Ms. Manvers…”

  “Oh, do call me Vera, dearie,” she interrupted, almost coquettishly. She'd decided the best way to deal with the two young detectives was to try and thrown them off guard a little and so far she felt it was working.

  “Okay, Vera,” McLennan went on, “we need to inquire a little more into the subject of the records of Speke Hill, going back to the fifties and sixties.”

  “Yes? What about them? How can I help you?”

  Nick Dodds joined the questioning.

  “Our colleagues previously visited you at work, Vera, looking for information relating to both Matthew Remington and Mark Proctor.”

  “Yes, that's correct.”

  “You're aware that we're involved in the investigation into their murders, Vera?”

  “Yes of course I know. I did what I could to help the police, but the information you were requesting went back to a long time ago and the old paper records are not exactly easily available or necessarily filed in proper date sequence, a failing of the previous person to hold my position, I'm afraid,” she replied, attempting to divert any blame or suspicion from herself.

  “That's as maybe,” McLennan said, “but our boss, D.I. Ross feels you may have been holding something back from us, Vera.”

  Vera looked shocked. In truth, she was afraid they may be onto her, but McLennan's next words gave her cause for hope.

  “He thinks you may be going out of your way to protect Remington and Proctor by withholding information about them that might assist us in our inquiries into their murders.”

  Emboldened, Vera replied, “Now, why on earth would I do such a thing, Detective Constable? In the first place, I never knew Matthew Remington, and I only met Mark Proctor when I went to work at Speke Hill, and that was only a passing working relationship.”

  McLennan was thrown off kilter by the logic of her answer, and Dodds came to his rescue.

  “We think you may be trying to protect the reputation of Speke Hill, Ms. Manvers. If the place has certain skeletons in the cupboard, so to speak, as secretary, you have access to all past records and would be in a position to withhold anything that might throw a bad light on your employers.”

  Vera relaxed a little at Dodds's words. They actually thought she was trying to protect those vicious perverts. Surely, if that was the case, they had no inkling she was in fact responsible for the murders.

  With new confidence born from that thought, she replied to Dodds confidently.

  “I can assure you, Constable that I have never tried to withhold any information from the police, certainly nothing that would interfere with your inquiries into the murders of two men, one of whom was a respected teacher at my place of work.”

  “I hope not,” Dodds continued, “because we will be obtaining a court order to grant us access to all of Speke Hill's records, both for the orphanage and the school, and we will without a doubt soon discover if you're being evasive with us.”

  “I'm sure that won't be necessary,” Vera replied. “The headmaster has already given his permission for you to access the records and I provided your people with all the help I could on your previous visit.”

  “Yes, I'm sure you did,” said Derek McLennan, “but you may have overlooked some detail that we may think important, even though you may not have been aware of its significance.”

  “Of course. I understand
,” said Vera, a little perturbed again as she thought of the police trawling through the records and finding the envelope containing the details of the four boys who'd attacked the girl behind the pavilion. Would they become suspicious at seeing what should have been a sealed envelope opened as she'd left it? Depending on circumstances, she knew she'd need to access the file room and place the documents in a new sealed envelope as she should have done when she'd found it, only to leave it in her excitement at her discovery of the contents.

  McLennan and Dodds, despite sharing a belief that there was something 'off' about Vera Manvers, realised there was little point in pushing the interview any further. Yes, they'd confronted her at home and been very surprised to find her a very different woman from the one they'd expected, but that in itself wasn't reason to be particularly suspicious, but she'd seemed helpful and co-operative. If there was more to Vera Manvers, it would need further background investigation to reveal it. They certainly hadn't been able to ascertain any cause for them to think she was protecting Remington and Proctor, as D.I. Ross suspected.

  Chapter 30

  At the end of the day

  Ross, tired and frustrated, was preparing to leave for the day. With most of the team still out pounding the streets or following up with their allotted lines of inquiry, he knew he'd catch up with everyone in the morning. He had one more thing to do however, before heading off and doing his best to switch off from work for a few hours. He'd acknowledged a phone call from D.C. Curtis a little earlier in which Curtis had given him the fourth name they'd been searching for, but there was little they could do about tracing the mystery man until the morning. A knock on his door heralded the arrival of Press Liaison Officer, George Thompson, who Ross felt might be able to assist in identifying not just the newly mentioned Luke, but also the other elder boy, Johnny.