When the Evil Waits M Lee (e book reader .txt) 📖

The man had done his homework. But when he thought about it, it was exactly what he would have done in similar circumstances.

‘How did you find your man?’

‘He was sleeping rough in the park, still had the knife with the child’s blood on it when we picked him up. He had a history of child sex offences. Open and shut case.’

‘He confessed straight away?’

The detective shook his head. ‘Said he found the knife at first, but changed his story later and coughed to the killing.’

‘How did he move the child from the area around the sweet shop to the park?’

Fitzgerald smiled. ‘Good question. It’s the one thing we haven’t worked out yet.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said they walked.’

‘How far is it?’

‘Not far, less than a mile.’

‘Any CCTV footage?’

‘None, we don’t have as many as Manchester.’

‘Did anybody see them together?’

He shook his head again. ‘Nobody has come forward. We even recreated the crime for the Liverpool Echo but still nobody remembered seeing them together.’

‘Seems strange.’

‘After Jamie Bulger people aren’t so keen to say they saw a child and did nothing.’

Ridpath remembered the case. A young child abducted by two ten-year-olds and walked around Liverpool for nearly three hours. Thirty-eight people came forward to say they had seen them together but the ten-year-olds lied, telling them they were taking him to a police station, and nobody intervened.

‘Could I see where the body was found?’

‘Aye, you could. You want me to take you?’

‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

Fitzgerald stood up and began walking towards the door. ‘Sure, why would it be any trouble. I only have three muggings, a stabbing and a security van robbery on my slate.’

‘Look, I know what it’s like, I’m a copper too. Somebody from out of town comes in and expects to be driven around. I’ll grab a cab.’

Fitzgerald stopped. ‘No, honestly, it’s not a problem. If you don’t mind eating lunch in the car, it’s only ten minutes away. It’s toad-in-the-hole day in the canteen and we can grab some Wet Nelly on the way back.’

‘Wet Nelly?’

‘It’s a dessert, with fruit and nuts and custard. You’ve never had Wet Nelly before?’

‘Not in Manchester. We’re the land of Eccles Cakes, Holland’s Pies and Vimto, remember?’

Fitzgerald took his arm. ‘You’re in for a treat, mate.’

Chapter 79

The strong scent of freshly mown grass filled the air. ‘What is this place?’ said Ridpath, looking for a bin to put his rubbish in. There didn’t seem to be any nearby.

‘This is the Festival Gardens. It was opened in 1984, after the Liverpool riots of 1981, to bring a bit of colour into people’s lives.’

‘Did you work during the riots?’

‘I might look ancient but I’m not that old. Way before my time. Nah, I was throwing bricks at the coppers then. It was a part of growing up if you were a Scouser. That and supporting Liverpool, of course. Outside riots on the streets, in here a riot of colour. That was the joke in those days.’

Ridpath looked around at the derelict Chinese pagodas and dishevelled shrubs and trees. ‘Doesn’t look colourful.’

‘I remember coming here then, it was actually quite well done, but, of course, there was no money to keep it going, so it was left to rot.’ They were sitting on a graffitied bench. Fitzgerald spread his arms wide. ‘This is after the council cleaned it up, too. Before it was the gardens, it was a rubbish tip. They discovered recently that most of the rubbish had simply been buried even deeper. These days, it’s hardly ever used except as a fairground now and again. There’s a plan somewhere to build houses on it, create a garden paradise. Pigs might fly, I think, before this lot gets built on.’

To Ridpath, it looked remarkably like Chorlton Ees. ‘Where’s the river?’

He pointed south. ‘Over there. Quiet now, used to be buzzin’ when I was a lid.’

‘Lid?’

‘Kid. Lad.’ He changed his voice, mimicking received pronunciation with a Scouse accent. ‘A child. When I was young.’

Ridpath stood up. He thought he could just see the river from here. The unmistakeable sound of seagulls squabbling raucously over a morsel of food came from that direction. He stared back at the trees. ‘And the body, where was it found?’

‘Back there, in the trees.’ Fitzgerald joined him. ‘Let’s walk across. I think they took the police tape down a while ago, either that or it was nicked. People round here use it to decorate bedrooms.’

‘Classy.’

They reached an area of denser scrubland. ‘The kid’s body was found in there by a man walking his dog.’

Another coincidence. ‘You checked him out?’

‘Put him through the wringer. Clean as a whistle.’

Ridpath looked at the stand of trees. Exactly like Chorlton Ees; they were close to the path, but once you stepped behind them, all was quiet and hidden.

‘Lucky the body was found so quickly.’

‘Aye, lucky for us, not so lucky for the parents. The mother tried to top herself last week. Husband caught her just in time. She blames herself. Well, wouldn’t you if something like that happened?’

Ridpath stayed quiet and then said, ‘I’ve seen enough, Fitz. Do you know Canning Place?’

‘What do you want there?’

‘I need to see the pathologist.’

‘Dr Sewell? A good man. You’ll like him. Detailed, efficient and conscientious. I wish we had more like him. I’ll give you a lift to the Royal Ozzy, it’s on the way.’

‘It isn’t really, is it?’

‘Nah, but I’ll drop you off anyway. Wouldn’t want some Manc copper wandering round my patch and getting lost, would we? We can pick up the Wet Nelly on the way.’

Chapter 80

Fitzgerald dropped Ridpath outside the Royal Liverpool Hospital. The Wet Nelly had been interesting, in the same way being hit over the head with a sock full of cement was ‘interesting’.

After fighting with the signage, he eventually found the mortuary.

Dr Sewell was waiting for him. ‘You’re late.’

Ridpath glanced up at the clock. It was 2.10. The doctor was short and officious with salt-and-pepper hair that stood out like surgical needles from his scalp.

‘Sorry, I