Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2), Malcolm Hollingdrake [best e reader for android .TXT] 📗

‘You knew both previous tenants then?’

‘Initially, no. Strange circumstances how I met Carla, yes, Carla Sharpe and her partner was I think, Colin Smith?’ he hesitated.

‘Callum Smith,’ Lucy corrected.

‘Sorry, you’re right, of course. Callum. Bonny fellow. As I was saying, I was staying in a hotel and one evening I saw Carla sitting on a bench on Lord Street. She looked a little worse for wear shall we say, so I asked if all was well. She said she was taking the air. She pointed to her flat. Anyway, we just started to chat for maybe five or ten minutes and then she walked across the road. Within minutes she’d gone in and I thought no more about it until I saw her with friends in a pub a couple of nights later. A Friday, I believe it was. Surprisingly, she’d recognised me sitting on my own and came over with a bottle of wine, she said it was for my kindness. It was sweet of her even to remember me. It was then she invited me to a party later. I accepted.’

‘How many times did you go to the apartment?’

‘Two, maybe three at most.’

‘Did you meet either Callum or Carla socially outside their home?’

‘I bumped into Carla at a restaurant in Formby, The Bistro. I’d gone with a friend for lunch and she was there with Craufurd. I had to look twice but I was sure it was her. I didn’t go over. Well, you just don’t know the circumstances do you?’

‘Do you know when this was?’

Taylor picked up his phone and checked the diary. ‘Yes, the 15th of last month. That’s a Thursday, I believe. Yes.’

‘Have you seen her since, or either Callum or Craufurd?’

‘I called in to see Craufurd only last week about some paintings he needed for a commission on which he was working. You’re aware that I buy and sell art works for a living? Craufurd is an interior designer and since meeting we have worked on a couple of projects together. We communicate mainly over the ether, the internet rather than meeting in person, that way you save so much time. He shows me the space he’s trying to fill and I send him the images of the art works I know to be available.’

‘Did you know about Carla going missing?’

‘I did, it’s been on the news and Craufurd telephoned to let me know. As I’ve said, I barely knew the woman but it’s still extremely distressing considering the circumstances.’

Tony slipped a photograph of Jennings onto the table in front of Taylor. ‘Have you seen this man before, Mr Taylor?’

Taylor stood, collected a copy of the local paper and placed it in front of Tony. ‘Snap. Funny isn’t it. We have a Carla, a Craufurd, a Callum and a Cameron. Thank goodness I don’t have a ‘C’ at the start of my names.’

‘Let me rephrase that. Have you met Jennings?’

‘In all honesty, I couldn’t say. I don’t know him personally and he’s neither within nor on the periphery of my friends. I don’t like the term “inner circle”, it’s the dubious connotations.’ He tapped the frontpage headline. ‘But reading that, nor is he likely to be.’

The interview was winding to a close, and Lucy and Tony stood before thanking Taylor for his help. Tony took a last look from the window.

‘Great that. Stunning!’ his accent suddenly seemed even stronger.

Neither Tony nor Lucy spoke as the escalator dropped them in the lobby. The head of the concierge popped over the screen but quickly returned as if he were expecting a single round from some hidden sniper to come his way. Within minutes they were driving past the Liver Building.

‘Your thoughts, Tony?’

‘Beautiful flat.’

Lucy shook her head and sighed. It could wait.

Chapter 11

It was a curious sight as more birds fought to be near the head of the scarecrow than the farmer had ever seen. Even though he was positioned some distance away both the noise of the birds’ calls and the frantic flapping could be heard within the tractor’s cab. It was mainly the gulls along with some rooks or were they crows? He could never differentiate even after living a rural life since childhood. He found identifying those birds within the Corvid family difficult unless it was a magpie or jay. Those he definitely knew. Within the frantic confusion, their screams were both piercing and eager. Having been distracted long enough, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned off the engine and climbed down from the cab. Trudging towards the field containing the scarecrow, he collected a stick from the hedge. Should have made a bloody scaregull if that’s what these noisy blighters are. He checked the polythene laid on the earth as mulch to keep the soil warm and stop evaporation of the moisture. It rippled serpent-like in the light breeze, but was held firm by the number of soil bags placed around the edge. The condensation clearly clouded the inner surface.

It was the smell that first hit him, not the smell of freshly turned earth that had filled his nostrils this past hour but the distinctive smell of something dead. It slapped him when it penetrated his nostrils and there it lingered. Pausing, he looked across the field’s corrugated surface. He had often found the odd fox or deer that had been clipped on the main road by a passing vehicle. The animal usually managed to limp away only to die a few hundred metres from the road, but as far as he could see there was nothing.

Approaching the standing figure, he started to swing the stick in a circle above his head, calling out to disperse the birds, making them take flight before they returned their own call of annoyance at being disturbed. The flash of black-blue wings, an almost iridescent sheen blazed a contrast against white-grey clouds. The gulls’ brazenness and screaming took more effort to disperse. Many of the birds settled in the trees