Death's Cold Hand, J.E. Mayhew [book club recommendations .txt] 📗

months ago. Or he would have had to have rehomed Charlie. In the past, Laura would have helped give Serafina her antibiotics, but Laura wasn’t here. Blake had come back to his house in Rock Park on the banks of the Mersey to look in on the cat and Charlie, the Jack Russell, before heading back to the office but he’d found Ian at his front door.

“I was just going to check on that cat of yours,” Ian said. “Now you’re here, I’ll take you up on that offer of a brew…”

Blake laughed. “You must be a mind reader, Ian, come on in. I’m parched, I’ve been on the go all day.”

“Is your face all right?” Youde said. “The cat had a right go at you, didn’t she?”

“Too right, mate,” Blake said, touching the scab on his face. “Thanks for taking her to the vets, Ian, you saved my bacon. Was she okay for you?” He opened the front door and went inside.

“Good as gold,” Youde said, following him in.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Honest! Not a peep out of her. Purring at the vet most of the time.”

Blake shook his head. “Jeez. It’s just me she’s got it in for, then…”

Youde grinned and scratched Charlie behind the ear while Blake filled the kettle. “You involved in that Port Sunlight attack? I wanted to go to the garden centre to get some chicken wire, but it was bedlam. A murder, wasn’t it?”

Blake nodded. “Nasty business. I haven’t seen such a mess in a long time.”

“It’ll have people up in arms. Murder on the war memorial. It’s not right.”

“No,” Blake said, getting two mugs from the cupboard. “It isn’t. Shows a distinct lack of respect. Mind you, I don’t suppose it mattered to the poor sod who was killed there.”

Youde grimaced and nodded. “True. Was there any significance in it being the war memorial?”

“I don’t know. Weird place to ambush him if that’s what happened. I mean, it’s not like there’s anywhere to conceal yourself up on the memorial…”

“Maybe he was waiting to confront your man,” Ian said, sipping at the steaming mug Blake passed him.. “Have a word with him about something.”

“The victim was a big lad, Ian, you’d want to get the drop on him if you were going to try and take him out. But yes, it’s all possible. That’s the trouble with this stage of an investigation; everything is possible. It drives me mad. Speaking of which…” Serafina slid into the kitchen, tangling herself around Blake’s ankles.

Blake crushed the antibiotics into her food and put the plate on the floor. Serafina gave it a sniff and then looked up, meowing pitifully. “I think she’s rumbled you, Will,” Ian laughed.

“I’ll leave it a bit and see if she has it later. It’s times like this when I miss Laura. She’d have some trick up her sleeve to get the pill down her throat.”

Ian folded his arms. “The cat will eat when she’s hungry.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m pretty sure Serafina’s capable of a full-scale hunger strike if she felt aggrieved enough,” Blake sighed. He downed the hot tea in a couple of gulps and dumped the mug in the sink. “Well, I’d better get back to it. You all right feeding this fella and taking him out for a walk?”

“Yeah,” Ian said, ruffling the top of Charlie’s head. “You get on.”

Driving back, Blake rolled the various facts of the case around in his head. He was trying to avoid making assumptions, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that Travis had been targeted. It didn’t feel like a random killing. Not the way he’d been struck and then had his throat cut. It clearly wasn’t robbery as the man’s wallet and phone remained untouched. He decided to get another door-to-door organised focusing on the teenagers that Travis had encountered on the memorial. It was possible they jumped him, but surely there’d be more signs of a scuffle. More footprints. From what Blake had seen, Travis was felled with one blow and then someone got busy with the blade. Professional, then?

The lights in the roof of the tunnel flashed overhead as Blake drove almost on autopilot. His thoughts switched to Laura and he wondered where she was at that moment. He’d intended to go and find her but had been distracted by his sister’s plight up in Scotland. She’d been accused of murder and he had to clear her name. Now, he was just waiting for the next opportunity to take time off to go and look for her. But she didn’t want to be found. And Blake felt ill at ease with himself, wondering if searching was the right thing to do.

He sighed as the corner of the Liverpool World Museum came into view. “Focus on the case Blake. It’s all you can do for now,” he muttered at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. “Laura can look after herself, wherever she is.”

*****

Harley Vickers’ heart thumped against his ribs. He didn’t want any part of this. Bobby Price was a psycho, there was no doubt in his mind as he sprinted down Wood Street towards the railway station. The red brick facade of the old Lever Brothers factory ran along on his left, hemming him in. He wished he’d gone into school and hadn’t bunked off with Alfie. He should have known they’d end up with Bobby and that would end up in trouble.

Bobby had thrown down another can under the bridge in the Dell when an old man walking his dog had said something.

“Pick that up you messy bugger.”

Bobby had scowled at him. “Fuck off.”

The old man was fat and wore a hooded jacket that was a horrible snot-green colour. “Don’t talk to me like that, you cheeky little streak of piss. I said pick that can up. It’s bad enough having to put up with all your rowdiness in the evening without you leaving your cans lying all over the place…”

“You pick it up if you’re so bothered,” Bobby had