It's Now or Never (29 page)

She gasped. ‘Is this to do with the murder? I'll help you if I can. I liked Kenneth. He was a really nice man.'

‘So I've been told,' said Sam. ‘I'd like to get into the house – do you have a key?'

‘I do that, but Dennis has probably forgotten about it. His father gave me it a while back. I used to go in and do a bit of cleaning when his wife took ill.'

‘I can see you're a good neighbour,' said Sam in a friendly voice. ‘You can accompany me if you like to make sure I don't steal anything.'

She laughed and told him to wait a mo' and returned with the key shortly after. She opened the door and he stepped inside with her hot on his heels. ‘Dennis has been out of work for a while. According to my husband, who works at the steelworks too, he was sacked for going in drunk and being belligerent. His mother would have been so upset if she'd lived to see it. His father had worked there most of his life, too.'

‘You're talking about the Shotton steelworks, of course?' said Sam, pulling on a pair of gloves.

‘That's right. The works prospered during the war, making corrugated steel sheets for Anderson air-raid shelters. They saved many a life during the Blitz. But there was a shortage of the zinc they needed to galvanize the sheets, so they had to stop making them and that's how the Morrison indoor shelter came into its own.'

‘That's very interesting, Mrs …?'

‘Gertrude Williams.'

She told him of the layout of the house in a hushed voice as they went into a back room. The furniture was heavy and dark.
Probably belonged to the parents
, thought Sam. Newspapers were piled up next to the hearth and a window overlooked a yard containing a narrow flower bed that had been allowed to run wild. There were ashes and cinders in the grate and charred paper. The mantelshelf held a photograph. The couple were dressed in what was probably their Sunday best, circa the Edwardian era. The man had a carnation in his button hole and the woman held a posy.

‘That's Mr and Mrs,' whispered Mrs Williams.

Sam nodded and went over to an ornate sideboard, which had a half circular mirror set at the back of it, and opened a drawer. Unlike the room, which was tidy and well swept, its contents were higgledy-piggledy. Obviously Dennis or maybe Nick had been looking for something in a hurry. The other drawer was in the same condition. The hunch he'd had earlier was growing and he hoped he was right. He opened the cupboard doors but they contained only crockery and finely embroidered tablecloths.

‘I'd like to take the papers and documents with me,' he said. ‘I'll write you a receipt which you can give to Mr Rogers if he should return.'

‘D'you think you might find a clue to the murderer in all that?' she asked.

He smiled. ‘Possibly. Is there a sideboard in the parlour?'

‘No. Dennis was pawning stuff after he lost his job at the steelworks and got rid of it.' She hesitated. ‘He was a bit of a gambler and my husband suspected he got in over his head.'

Sam believed it. Single man, living with his parents and working that long, should have had some savings to show for his time at the steelworks.

He went upstairs and found the drawers turned upside down on the bed, their contents scattered on the bedspread in the front bedroom. There were no clothes in the wardrobe. One of the other bedrooms was completely bare, whilst in the small box room boy's clothes hung in the wardrobe, including a school blazer. There were also some underwear, shirts and jumpers in the chest of drawers. If Nick was still alive, he had left in a hurry.

‘I wonder what he was looking for?' asked Mrs Williams.

‘Is there a cellar to this house?' asked Sam.

‘No, there's a coal bunker in the yard.'

Sam was relieved. One of his fears was that he might have found Nick's body buried in the cellar. ‘I've seen all I want to see here. I just need a bag for the papers downstairs.'

‘I've a brown paper carrier bag you can have,' she said.

He thanked her and while she was fetching the bag, he took out his fingerprint equipment and set to work on a few likely objects.

When she returned with the bag, she asked if he would like a cup of tea. He thanked her but said he had to be on his way. He wrote down his name and phone number on the back of a card and handed it to her. ‘Do let me know if Mr Rogers or his nephew returns.'

She nodded. They shook hands and he thanked her again.

As Sam drove back to Liverpool, he knew that he needed to revisit the site of Kenneth Rogers' murder. He glanced at his watch. If he was quick enough, then he would have time to make it there and be home in time to have a word with his father before he left for work.

Out front of the hardware shop there was a For Sale notice as Sam expected after visiting the estate agent to get the keys. Once again he took out his fingerprinting equipment, believing now that he was dealing with no professional thief but one who had seen enough films and read enough crime books to know to wipe clean the handle of the murder weapon and the surface of the till if he was not wearing gloves. Hopefully he had not thought of the edges of shelves and beneath the racks holding the chisels. He tried for prints and … Bingo! If they proved a match for those he had taken in the house in Shotton …

Sam put everything inside the bag he had brought for that purpose and then inspected the back of the shop to see if there was any sign of another attempted break-in. Upstairs there was a sash window that was slightly open. He went back inside and upstairs. The bed had been stripped but there was an army blanket folded neatly at the bottom of a single bed in the smaller room, as well as a change of clothes. In the bathroom he also found a recently used tablet of soap, a damp flannel and a hand towel but no sign of shaving equipment. In the kitchen there were a few crumbs on the floor and a couple of tins of baked beans in a cupboard.

He would bet his bottom dollar that Nick had climbed over the wall and shinned up the drainpipe and somehow managed to get through the partially open window. But why had he come to Liverpool and not met up with his friend Chris? If Nick suspected his uncle of murder, why hadn't he come to the police? Of course, he might have thought they wouldn't believe him. Or maybe he didn't suspect his uncle of murder but just wanted to get away from him?

But where was Nick at this moment and where was the uncle? Could Dennis Rogers possibly have left the country? Would he have done so without getting his hands on his share from the proceeds of the sale of the house and the shop premises? Sam decided to go back to headquarters and return later. He didn't want a constable on watch, in case he frightened off Nick.

He doubted the youth would return before dark, so he should have time to reach headquarters and be back here before then. It was then he thought of checking the time and realized his father would have left for work, having expected Sam to return home to keep his eye on Ethel. He decided to give Jeanette a call and ask her to do him a couple of favours.

‘So who am I looking for and what are the dates he might have sailed?' asked Jeanette, chewing on the end of a pencil. ‘I won't be able to do it until tomorrow, by the way. I'll be leaving in ten minutes.'

‘A Dennis Rogers and it will have been some time in the last ten days if he has left the country but you might not find anything; he could just be lying low somewhere,' said Sam.

‘OK! See you when I see you.'

‘I've another favour to ask,' said Sam.

She gave a sigh. ‘What is it now? If you want me to go and look after the old witch this evening you're not on! I've a date with Davy. I'm meeting his ship.'

‘Damn!' There was a silence and then he said, ‘Could you drop by at Lynne Donegan's as soon as possible and ask her if she could keep Aunt Ethel company this evening until I get home?'

‘Lynne! Why should Lynne keep the old witch company? Why can't you or Dad do it?'

‘Dad will have left for work and I'm still at headquarters but I'm heading for the hardware shop on Prescot Road,' said Sam. ‘Could you accompany Lynne to the house if she agrees? Thanks, kid.'

She groaned. ‘I'm meeting Davy's ship at eight! It's going to be a bit of a rush.'

‘Well, get a move on and you'll still make it,' said Sam, putting down the phone.

‘Brothers!' exclaimed Jeanette, placing the receiver on the cradle. ‘What would you do with them!'

The other typist smiled across at her. ‘You know you love your Sam. What's he up to now?'

‘I'm guessing he's on the trail of a killer but I'd best keep that under my hat.' She glanced at the clock on the wall and then reached for the cover for her typewriter. ‘I'll have to get a move on. I've a lot to do before I meet Davy.'

Lynne opened the door and to her surprise found Jeanette standing on the doorstep. ‘Hi, Jeanette! What can I do for you?'

‘I've brought a request from our Sam, although you mightn't want to do what he asks. Truthfully, I think he's got a nerve asking you.'

‘You'd best come in,' said Lynne, holding the door open wider.

‘I'd best not,' said Jeanette, grimacing. ‘I'm tied for time and if I wasn't, I'd be keeping Aunt Ethel company. That's what he wants you to do. Neither he nor I can, and Dad's gone to work.'

‘Where is Sam?'

‘He's at headquarters but has had to go to that shop in Prescot Road where that shopkeeper was murdered.'

Lynne's jaw dropped and then she took a deep breath. ‘Did he say why?'

‘No, just that I was to do some research for him and I was to ask you to keep Aunt Ethel company until he gets back. I wouldn't blame you if you said no. It's such short notice.'

‘It's OK,' said Lynne, smiling. ‘I don't mind. I'll just leave a note for Bobby, so she'll know where I've gone when she comes in. Then I'll get my coat and I'll be with you.'

Lynne was as good as her word and soon they were both on their way to Jeanette's old home.

It was not the first time Lynne would be meeting Ethel but when they came face to face, it was like speaking to a stranger.

‘You're a new face here,' said Ethel, hunched in a chair in front of the fireplace.

‘Yes, I am, but we did meet at Hester's wedding,' said Lynne.

Ethel jutted out her bottom lip. ‘She had no right to get married and leave me. All the years I've looked after her – and the other ones are as bad. Grace's mother went to prison, you know? Had Grace there. They force fed her. I told that other one all about it. Now what was her name? Where did she go? Pretty kid, had a magic box that took pictures.'

Lynne wondered if she meant Dorothy.

Ethel glanced around the room. ‘There's no one here except us. That's the trouble. They come and they go, they never stay.' She stared at Lynne. ‘Who are you? I don't suppose you'll be staying either.' And tears welled in her eyes.

Lynne was glad when the telephone rang. It was Sam's father and he wanted to speak to him. ‘He's not here,' she said. ‘Can I take a message?'

‘Who are you?'

‘It's Lynne Donegan. I'm sitting with your aunt because Sam had to go somewhere.'

‘Well, tell him there's been a lad here asking after him but when told he wasn't here, the lad vanished. He looked familiar to me. Fair haired, brown eyes.'

Lynne felt a stir of excitement. ‘I'll see that he gets the message.'

No sooner had she put down the telephone than there came a knock on the front door. Lynne excused herself, wondering if it was Sam, but it was her daughter.

‘I found your note,' said Roberta, smiling. ‘So I thought I'd come and keep you company. I brought my sketch pad with me. How is the old woman?'

‘Confused and in need of company,' said Lynne, pulling her inside. ‘You can do me a favour. Make her a cup of tea and sit with her until I get back. I need to go to the hardware shop where the murder took place and take a message to Sergeant Walker.'

Roberta's eyes widened. ‘Is he on the trail of the murderer?'

‘I hope so.'

‘Then hurry up,' urged Roberta. ‘But be careful, Mam!'

Lynne lifted her coat from a hook in the lobby and left before her daughter could delay her further.

Sam was gazing out of the upstairs front window while spooning baked beans out of a tin when he heard a sound below. He put down the tin and spoon and headed for the stairs. His descent was brought up short by the sight of the youth who had begun to climb up. Sam knew the moment when Nick caught sight of him and stopped in his tracks.

‘Don't be frightened,' said Sam, raising both his hands so the palms faced outwards.

‘I'm … I'm not frightened. How … how did you know I'd come here, Sergeant?'

‘Guesswork! I went to the house in Shotton today.'

Nick stiffened. ‘You spoke to
him
?'

‘If you mean your uncle—'

‘He's not my uncle and Dad wasn't my real dad!' Nick's voice broke on the last two words.

Sam's face softened. ‘I know. I discovered you were adopted from Mrs Donegan. I think you know her daughter, Bobby, and she had the information from your friend, Chris.'

‘I see. So is that why you went to Shotton today?' said Nick. ‘To see me?'

‘Look,' said Sam. ‘Let's not stand here on the stairs but go up and sit down. We can talk more comfortably there.'

Nick nodded and followed Sam upstairs. They sat across from each other at the table in the kitchen. ‘I was told your uncle intended sending you to South Africa.'

‘That's right! I pretended to fall in with his plan to allay his suspicions. I think he … he did Dad in and I was scared he'd kill me too, so I ran away!' Nick's voice shook.

Sam reached out and patted his hand. ‘It's all right, Nick. I'll make certain he doesn't harm you, although I have a feeling he's more concerned about protecting his own skin. According to the neighbour, Mrs Williams, he disappeared shortly after you left, and there's a debt collector on his tail. I think it's possible that once he knew you were at large, he decided to make a run for it.'