‘It’s very interesting. Important? I dunno. Could be. Depends on whether Luke Dessaur found out about it - and, if so, on whether it bothered him at all.’
‘You’re not suggesting that the threat of removal from a board of trustees is a sufficient motive for murder?’
‘Unlikely, I agree.’ Harry paused. ‘On the other hand, from what you say, Tim does have a track record. He’s killed once before and tried to pass it off as suicide.’
‘That was different,’ Kim snapped. ‘You and your bloody detective theories. You didn’t see him all those years ago. I did - and I can tell you that I’ve seldom seen a man so penitent. There was only one reason why he strangled his mother. He did it out of love. It was a unique case. You can’t imagine he would turn into some sort of serial killer. I must say, I’m starting to wish I’d never opened my mouth.’
For a moment neither of them spoke, then Harry said softly, ‘Sorry. I was only thinking aloud. It’s a bad habit. We shouldn’t quarrel, not tonight of all nights. I’m sure you’re right. Let’s forget about it, shall we?’
She gave him a sheepish smile and nodded. Yet the mood of the evening had changed and he was almost glad when the telephone rang. Perhaps after she’d dealt with the interruption they could rescue something from the wreckage. Kiss and make up. She went out into the kitchen to take the call and whilst she was away he dipped into her music collection and put on something by Roberta Flack. If that didn’t soften the atmosphere, nothing would.
But when she came back, he realised it was all in vain. She’d already put on her outside jacket and her face was ashen.
‘Look, Harry, I’m really sorry about this, but something’s come up. I have to go to the Bridewell. To see a real murderer, this time. The Scissorman has tried to kill another working girl. But they’ve arrested him.’
He bit his lip. ‘It isn’t by any chance Davey Damnation...’
She stared at him. ‘How on earth do you know about Davey?’
‘I started wondering the other day. I’ve always thought he was harmless, but he kept on about harlots and retribution. Maybe he’s one of those who thinks he hears the voice of God, telling him to slay them.’
‘You’re not serious? You don’t think Davey’s the Scissorman?’
‘Well, didn’t you just say so?’
‘No, I didn’t. He’s in hospital at the moment, recovering from the attack.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Davey’s been walking the streets of the red light district at night, haranguing pimps and prostitutes whenever he sees them. He saw some vagrant with a pair of scissors in his hand approaching a working girl. Davey let out a yell and tried to pull the fellow off her. He was stabbed in the chest for his pains, but the girl got away and raised the alarm. A passing panda car picked the man up and he’s in custody now.’
‘And Davey?’
‘In hospital. They reckon he’ll make it, thank God.’
‘And he’ll be a bloody hero,’ Harry said, feeling dazed. Perhaps he ought to leave the detecting to Jonah and Stephanie after all.
Chapter 15
If Harry needed any reminder that breaking up was hard to do, he received it back in the office the next morning. His first client of the day was a middle-aged, middle-income middle-manager whose solution to a mid-life crisis had been to embark on a torrid affair with his secretary. A dab hand at photography, he had taken dozens of snapshots of his girlfriend in a variety of unambiguous positions. When his wife had discovered them, she had determined to divorce him and take him for every penny that he had not squandered on flowers, perfume and chocolates for her younger rival.
‘You know the mistake I made?’ the man demanded.
Harry was tempted to say that he was spoiled for choice, but contented himself with a wary shake of the head.
‘I left the pictures in the glovebox of my car. The one place my old lady was likely to look. If only I’d tucked them up inside the owner’s manual. She’d never have opened that.’
It was true, Harry reflected, as he wrote down the depressing details. One of the things that divided the sexes was their respective attitudes towards motor vehicles. When he asked a woman client about the make of car her husband used, she tended to say it was a blue one or, if pressed, ‘I think it may be a Ford.’ Kim said that when she put the same question to a man, he would bore her to death with the detail and be able to recite the chassis number. Though he would often forget how many bank accounts he possessed.
When the meeting was over, he called Frances to tell her about his trips with Stephanie to uncover Vera Blackhurst’s past history as a befriender of wealthy old men.
‘My God! Should we report this to the police?’
‘What is there to report? As far as I can see, she’s committed no criminal offence whatsoever.’
‘It sounds to me as if having Vera Blackhurst as your housekeeper can seriously damage your health.’
‘There’s no evidence that she played a part in the death of any of the old men who left money to her. She simply has a track record of going to work for widowers who were on their last legs. But there’s nothing in the report from Jonah’s niece to suggest that the wills were improperly executed. As with Charles Kavanaugh, she simply wormed her way into the affections of the men she worked for, then waited for nature to take its course.’
‘It stinks.’
‘Sure, but Vera’s not the first person to behave that way, far from it. What’s different is that she’s made a career out of inheriting money. Some people might say good luck to her. For all we know, she makes the twilight months of her benefactors happier than they would otherwise have been. They were all lonely as well as rich.’
Frances sighed. ‘So what do we do?’
‘Stick to our original plan. We wanted to strike a deal. This information gives us the chance to do just that. Vera may be as innocent of crime as a new-born child, but I doubt whether she’d welcome notoriety. Besides, when Geoffrey Willatt finds out what’s been going on, I guess he’ll stop being starry-eyed about her. He’ll advise her to settle out of court as soon as possible and then drop her like a hot brick.’
‘And you think she’ll take that advice?’
‘It won’t be the first time she’s opted for taking a fast buck.’
‘Fine. Will you go ahead and talk to Willatt, please? In the meantime, I’ll tell the other trustees. Anyone I can’t reach by phone I should see this evening. It’s the first night of that musical the Trust has backed, Promises, Promises.’
‘Any good?’
‘I certainly hope so, given the amount of money we’ve pumped into it. Look, why don’t you come along? I have a couple of spare complimentary tickets. Bring a friend.’
As soon as he put the phone down, Suzanne buzzed to say that Roy Milburn had rung and asked for a return call. Harry tried his number but found himself talking to an answering machine. He left a message and then phoned Kim. She sounded hoarse, weary and depressed after a night in the company of the police and the mentally disabled tramp who had been identified as the Scissorman.
‘Sorry, I’ve not slept. And at four o’clock this morning, my client sacked me.’
‘What happened?’
‘He wouldn’t take my advice. As far as I can tell, he has a good chance of pleading diminished responsibility, but right now he needs a psychiatrist as much as a lawyer.’ She sighed. ‘As least he’s not my problem any more. Not that I would have been around to act for him even if he hadn’t decided to conduct his own defence. I suppose in my heart I’m glad. He may be ill, but the murders were savage. My flesh crept as I sat next to him. It made me think I’ve made the right decision. I’m better suited to working in MOJO’s head office than trying to defend people who scare the shit out of me.’
Harry couldn’t help sayin
g, ‘You’re a better lawyer than you’ll ever be a bureaucrat.’
A short laugh. ‘I suppose I ought to take that as a compliment.’
‘It was meant that way.’
‘One thing’s for sure, at least this time there won’t be a miscarriage of justice. He’s as guilty as that creep Norman Morris was innocent.’
‘To say nothing of Davey Damnation.’
‘Yes, what on earth was all that about last night? Good job you kept your thoughts to yourself.’
Apart from telling Stephanie. God, she’ll laugh when she hears the news. I’d better give her a wide berth for a while. ‘How is he?’
‘The last I heard, the tabloid press were forming a disorderly queue outside his hospital room, hoping to sign up the story of how he nailed the Scissorman. I can see the headlines already. “Dedicated evangelist risks life to trap crazed killer.”’ She yawned. ‘Anyway, I just popped in to the office for half an hour to clear a few things. After I’ve finished, I think I’ll go home to catch up on my sleep.’
‘Will you be up in time to come to the theatre with me?’
He told her about the invitation to see the musical and to his surprise she said yes.
‘I feel awful about leaving you like that last night.’
‘We both know it comes with the job.’
‘Even so. I’d love nothing better than a relaxing evening with not a religious fanatic in sight.’ She paused. ‘Besides, it may be our last chance for some time together for a while.’
‘London’s only at the end of the railway line from Lime Street,’ he said. But he knew it might as well be on the other side of the world.
After he rang off Suzanne buzzed him to say that Roy Milburn had called back. ‘He said not to worry, he’d decided he didn’t need to speak to you after all. And another thing, he’d heard from Ms Silverwood about someone called Vera Blackhurst. He asked me to write down a message for you.’
‘Which is?’
‘“I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you speak to Vera’s fancy man.”’
Harry grinned and asked her to call Geoffrey Willatt. He was going to enjoy this conversation.
The Pool Theatre occupied a redbrick Victorian building down a narrow lane off Chapel Street. Once it had been a swimming baths; the conversion had saved it from the bulldozers which ploughed mercilessly through Liverpool in the sixties, reducing much of the city’s history to rubble. Nowadays a number of local amateur dramatic groups put on productions here. The Waterfront Players were, according to the programme which Harry bought from a girl at the main door, a small group formed a couple of years ago. Tonight’s show would be their biggest so far.
A narrow flight of steps led down from the entrance to the passageway with a tiny box office at the end. As Harry picked up the tickets, Kim joined him.
His lips brushed against her cheek. ‘How are you?’
‘Okay, thanks. I’ve spent most of the day trying to put the Scissorman out of my mind.’ She shivered, but then moved her shoulders up and down in a visible effort to shake off the memory of her night’s work. ‘Thanks again for inviting me. I need something to take my mind off the evil that men do.’
‘Let me lighten your day, then.’
He recounted his conversation with Geoffrey Willatt. It had been a joy. As with a play by Harold Pinter, the pauses had counted for as much as the words. He had particularly appreciated the long silence which followed his quoting the deputy matron’s opinion that, for all her tartiness, Vera preyed on rich old men because she was greedy for money and not in the least interested in sex.
‘So what did he say?’
‘That he would take instructions. By that stage, his voice sounded as if there was a garrotte around his neck. And
the rustle of the white flag being hauled up was almost audible.’
She laughed and took a look at their surroundings. Up above, a gallery with iron railings ran around the building at street level, a relic from the old swimming bath. ‘I’ve never been here before, even though it’s only a stone’s throw from the flat. Always meant to come, but somehow or other I never quite made it.’
‘Me too. The things we don’t get round to doing.’
In one corner of the smoke-filled bar, Frances was deep in conversation with Tim Aldred. She was talking nineteen to the dozen; his expression was rapt. Harry wondered if, with Luke gone, the two of them might get together. Frances looked up and caught sight of him. As if reading his mind, she blushed before waving them to come over.
‘I spy the Great Timothy,’ Kim said.
‘Magician and mercy killer. Shall we have a word?’
Frances greeted them warmly and insisted on buying drinks. ‘To celebrate the news about Vera Blackhurst. Your detective has done a good job, Harry.’ She lifted her glass. ‘Here’s to a prosperous future.’
‘Cheers. I’ve spoken to Geoffrey. Somehow I don’t expect Vera’s asking price for a deal will be too high.
‘It’s marvellous. And we need that money so badly.’
‘I gather you’ve talked to Roy. He left a message at my office this morning but we missed each other after that.’
‘Yes, I called him as soon as I put the phone down after speaking to you. His last words were, “See you tonight”, but he hasn’t turned up yet.’
Tim grunted. ‘He’s hopeless.’
Frances smiled. ‘You would do a much better job as treasurer, I’m sure of that. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, there are one or two people I ought to say hello to in my capacity as acting chair of the Trust, before the curtain rises. Talk to you later.’
As she moved away, Kim turned to Tim and said, ‘I’ve remembered where we met before.’
He flushed. ‘I didn’t recognise you at Jericho Lane to begin with, but it began to dawn on me that your face was familiar. You were Manny Greenberg’s articled clerk, weren’t you?’
‘It feels like a long time ago.’
‘To me too. But you haven’t changed all that much.’
‘Thank you.’
An awkward silence hung over them like a shroud. Finally Harry said, ‘Kim told me about your mother.’
Tim swallowed. ‘Whatever you may think, whatever the court may have decided, I still believe I did the right thing. She wanted to die. She was in agony. She begged me to put her out of her misery.’
‘I know,’ Kim said and touched his hand. ‘I couldn’t believe the sentence.’
‘I was treated like a common criminal. It was so unjust. The one mistake I made was trying to dress her death up as suicide. I should have come clean from the outset. Lack of guts on my part, I suppose.’
‘I don’t think you lacked guts,’ she said.
‘I feel ashamed of myself. I don’t think it’s logical. As I said, I have no regrets about helping her to do something she was incapable of doing herself. But prison leaves a mark.’
She nodded. ‘It puts you on the outside, however much you regard yourself as a victim of injustice.’
‘That’s right. And it’s why I never talk about it. I’m stigmatised. I dread the idea that people may discuss me behind my back, point a finger, say I murdered my mother, imply that I did it for personal gain.’
‘Did Luke know?’ Harry asked gently.
‘Of course not,’ Tim said. ‘You know what a stickler he was. He would never have understood.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘I am. I had enormous respect for him, but he expected everyone else to live by the same standards as he did. If he’d known I’d done time, he would have wanted me off the board.’
‘You shouldn’t assume... Evening, Matthew. Hello, Inge.’
Matthew Cullinan and his girlfriend were arm in arm. He beamed at Harry. ‘Grand to see you again. Fran
ces rang to let me know about Vera Blackhust. Tremendous. I always knew that bloody woman was on the make. I expect now she’ll make herself scarce.’
‘She hasn’t committed any crime,’ Harry pointed out.
Matthew grunted. ‘No smoke without fire, if you ask me.’
Inge Frontzeck patted his shoulder. ‘Perhaps now you can relax, darling.’ She gave them a rueful smile. ‘You’ll never believe how worried he has been about the Trust’s financial difficulties.’
Matthew coloured. ‘I must admit I’ve been bothered about the money side. Hopefully that’s all now in the past. We should be able to negotiate a reasonable share from the Kavanaugh estate.’
‘So now you can enjoy this evening without fretting about how much it has cost the Trust,’ Inge said.
Frances smiled. ‘I’ve only just noticed your ring, Inge. So you two have named the day at last?’
A huge diamond was sparkling on the third finger of Inge’s left hand. She beamed and allowed everyone to inspect it. Matthew squeezed her hand and confessed that he had proposed that very afternoon.
‘To my surprise and delight, she said yes.’
‘He even got down on bended knee to pop the question,’ Inge told them. ‘After that, I didn’t have the heart to refuse.’
‘I’m a great believer in the old traditions,’ her fiancé said.
‘How marvellous!’ Frances said. ‘So we have a double cause for celebration.’
‘We must have a toast,’ Harry said. ‘What would you all like to drink?’
Tim said, ‘Don’t you think we ought to take our seats? The show’s due to start any minute.’
‘You’re quite right,’ Matthew said. ‘Everyone’s moving through. We’ll save the toast for later. Champagne on me, if the theatre bar runs to it.’
As they took up their seats at the far end of the second row, Kim whispered, ‘Call me a bigoted old socialist, but that man Cullinan gives me the creeps.’
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