A Liverpool Legacy (27 page)

They dropped him off at the office as dawn was breaking in the east. His car stood alone in the car park. His companions insisted on taking a closer look at it and they told him how lucky he was to have it. By then, Marcus felt emotionally drained and totally exhausted.

As soon as they left him, he let himself into the building and went up to his office in the turret. His first impression was that nothing had been moved, there were files and papers all over his desk, but though he searched through them he couldn’t find his notebook. Had he left it here? Yes, he felt certain that he had. He could remember writing down the directions to Dale Barracks, but even worse were the countless directions, addresses, telephone numbers that he’d written previously.

His heart was pounding as he looked carefully through all the papers again in case it was hidden amongst them. It was essential that he found it. He searched the top drawers of his desk. He went round his room examining every surface where he might have put it down. He even looked on the floor in case he’d dropped it, but it wasn’t here.

Somebody must have taken it. That could only mean that the person who’d taken it understood the meaning of what he’d written. It must mean that somebody was on to him. Could it have been Nigel? That would be the lesser evil, but even so, with sinking heart he put his head down on his desk and wept.

Soon it was full daylight and the factory beneath him was opening up for another day’s work. He’d had very little sleep so perhaps it was as well he felt too much on edge to even think of it. He kept a safety razor and a comb in his desk drawer for occasions like this and went to the cloakroom and used them. When the office staff came in he rang the kitchen to ask for a cup of tea.

His night’s work had left him feeling like a zombie and gave him plenty of time to think of the consequences this might have for Greg and the other members of the ring. Elvira would be furious. He was half dreading and half hoping that Nigel would come up to his room waving the notebook at him, demanding an explanation. At least then he’d have some hope of keeping it under wraps, but the office was eerily quiet. An hour passed but Nigel didn’t come near.

He felt full of resentment for his brother. Nigel was getting on better with Pa than he was; everything was plain sailing for him, not only here in the office but with his wife who treated him with affection. He’d expected to find his father easier to live with once Elvira had gone, but he was as difficult as ever. He sighed as he remembered this was Saturday morning. It was a half day but he’d agreed to go out to lunch with Pa and the family.

Pa had said the club where he usually ate was invaded by hordes of youths at the weekends and that he and his cronies stayed away. So regularly at weekends Nigel and Clarissa invited Pa round to meals at their flat, and since Marcus was now alone, they invited him too. Occasionally, to repay them for their hospitality, Father asked them round for a drink and afterwards Dando would drive them all to a restaurant.

Marcus couldn’t make up his mind to do anything. His hand hovered over the telephone, he wanted to speak to Elvira, he needed her, she’d know what he should do, but this might land her in trouble. He sent for more cups of tea, cleared his desk and waited, feeling half paralysed.

At mid-morning his internal phone rang. His hand shook as he picked it up. It was Nigel. ‘I’ll need a lift home with you, Marcus. Pa’s taking us to lunch today. I’ve had to leave my car for Clarissa so she can join us. I’ll see you in the car park at quarter to twelve, all right?’

‘Yes,’ Marcus managed, but that meant it wasn’t Nigel who had taken his notebook.

‘Don’t forget.’

‘I won’t.’

There was only one thing he could do now and that was carry on as though there wasn’t a time bomb out there that could explode in his face at any moment. Every nerve and every muscle in his body felt tight with tension.

As the appointed time drew near, he locked his desk and stood at the window taking deep breaths until he saw Nigel emerge from the building, then he went down to drive him home. He must appear to be his normal self and not let Nigel and Pa see that he was rattled.

They were shedding their coats in the hall of his father’s house when the doorbell rang. Marcus turned round and answered it and was shocked to find two men on the step who introduced themselves as detectives and flashed their identification in front of his face. He didn’t take in their names, only the horror that they were plainclothes detectives employed by the Liverpool Police Authority.

‘Mr Marcus Maynard?’ one asked. ‘At one time Captain Marcus Maynard of the King’s Own Regiment?’

‘Yes.’ Marcus felt the strength ebb from his knees.

‘We’re making inquires and would like to ask you a few questions. May we come in, sir?’

Marcus could only stare at him. Nigel took over. ‘Yes of course, do step inside.’ They didn’t have to be invited twice. ‘What sort of inquiries?’ he asked.

‘And you are, sir?’

Marcus pushed himself forward to say, ‘My brother, Nigel Maynard.’

‘It concerns only Mr Marcus Maynard, sir.’ By now Pa had come into the hall.

‘Come this way,’ Marcus said hurriedly. He wanted privacy for this and was leading them towards the empty dining room.

But his father stepped forward. ‘Bring them in here, Marcus, where it’s warm,’ he ordered. ‘With this coal shortage we can have only one fire.’

They all went into the sitting room and Marcus had to follow. He felt in a state of near panic. His sister-in-law Clarissa was elegantly sipping a glass of sherry, and five pairs of expectant eyes stared at him.

One of the detectives took out a notebook. ‘We would like to know if you are acquainted with a Major Gregory Livingstone?’

Marcus ran his tongue over his lips, his mouth was bone dry. ‘Er – yes, I knew him in my army days.’

‘When did you last see him?’

This was awful. ‘Not since I was demobbed.’

‘And when was that, sir?’

Marcus could feel the sweat standing out on his brow. ‘Er … Last summer.’

His father as usual was impatient and answered for him. ‘You came here with Elvira to live with me on the seventh of August, it’s a date engraved on my mind if not on yours. So it was the sixth of August you were demobbed, wasn’t it?’

‘Last year?’ asked the detective, with pencil poised.

Marcus swallowed hard. ‘Yes, August the sixth, nineteen forty-seven.’

He’d been demobbed a year earlier but he’d misled his father to hide the year he’d been employed on nefarious duties involving war surplus. It had been a harmless fib then to prevent questions from his family but now he’d lied to a police officer. He was afraid that might cause trouble for him but what else could he say when Pa was listening? He was scared and could feel his hands shaking. He pushed them in his trouser pockets so they couldn’t be seen.

‘Did you know Captain Clive Edward Armstrong?’

‘Yes, we served together – with Greg Livingstone.’

‘When did you last see Clive Armstrong?’

Marcus shook his head. It had been this morning when he’d said goodbye to him. ‘I think he might have been demobbed before me. I don’t remember.’

‘But not recently?’

‘No.’ Marcus wished this would end but it didn’t. He was then asked if he knew several other people – civilians. He did but he denied it. Photographs were produced and he studied them to gain time to get his nerves under control. He was flustered and it didn’t help.

‘What have they done?’ his father wanted to know.

‘It’s just a routine inquiry, sir,’ the detective answered smoothly and turned back to Marcus, ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘That’s all for the moment.’

Marcus couldn’t wait to show them out of the house. His mind was reduced to jelly, he couldn’t think. Dando was taking some bottled beer into the sitting room and slowly Marcus followed him.

‘What was all that about?’ his father demanded.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Marcus said. His first glass of beer didn’t touch the sides. Did they have his notebook? He’d written the name Greg in it and possibly Clive too. This was a disaster that could topple the whole ring. It had been a mistake to return home. It was the address he’d given the army; that must be how they’d traced him. He could have gone anywhere in England, found a job anywhere and the law might never have caught up with him. He’d been a fool to come home and try to work in the family business.

He’d tried it before and it hadn’t worked then, it wasn’t working now. Always there was somebody on his back and he didn’t know what he was doing. What he ought to do was make a run for it now.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Marcus sat through the restaurant lunch trembling with fear. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t think straight. He could hear Clarissa’s pleasant piping voice and Pa’s deep tones booming out but he wasn’t taking in a word they said. A menu was put in front of him but he couldn’t focus on it. He didn’t hear what Nigel ordered but he said, ‘I’ll have the same.’

Once they returned home, Pa went upstairs to rest on his bed. Feeling absolutely exhausted, Marcus did the same. He hadn’t had much sleep last night and thought half an hour’s rest would help to clear his head.

He woke up slowly to find it was a clear, moonlit night. It puzzled him to find he was in bed with his clothes on until he remembered it was meant to be an after-lunch rest. He switched on his bedside light and found it was half past seven. He felt hungover and heavy but warm and secure lying here in his own bed.

There was a knock on his door and Dando’s head came round. ‘Your father’s sent me up, sir, to see if you’re coming down to supper. He’s in the dining room waiting.’

Marcus wasn’t hungry. ‘I don’t feel very well,’ he said.

‘Shall I bring you a little something up on a tray, sir?’

‘Yes, Dando, please.’ He felt quite woozy and totally devoid of energy, what he needed was more sleep. He’d overdone things going to Felixstowe. Doing two jobs was making him ill, it was too much for anyone.

Dando brought his tray. Marcus couldn’t finish the soup but he enjoyed the apple pie and custard and felt a little better after that. He got up to clean his teeth and have a bath, then he got back into bed and fell sound asleep again.

He was woken the next morning by Dando bringing up Pa’s breakfast tray. He lay still for a moment listening to the church bells, then turned over to look at his alarm clock. Pa was having a late breakfast, the bells were calling the congregation to the eleven o’clock service. Marcus’s head felt clearer. He called out to Dando as he returned across the landing.

He came in and opened his curtains. ‘Good morning, sir, I hope you’re feeling better. Will you get up or would you like your breakfast up here?’

Memories of the previous day were flooding back to worry Marcus, the last thing he felt like was getting up. ‘I don’t want any breakfast, thank you, just tea this morning.’

Those two policemen had said, ‘That’s all for the moment,’ which must mean they intended to come back. But it was Sunday, they wouldn’t come back today. Or would they? He’d given a false date for his demob. If they checked that, they’d be on to him like terriers, turning up all sorts of evidence. He had to get away from here as soon as possible, but where could he go? Elvira would have to help him and so would Greg.

Greg! They could be on to him too! And Greg had told him many times that if there was any sign of trouble like this, he must be warned as soon as possible. But Greg would go berserk if he told him he’d written down all his instructions in a notebook and now he’d lost it. It could be used as evidence that he’d been involved in a whole range of thefts and other nefarious duties. Possibly it could be used as evidence against Greg and Elvira and others in the ring. Marcus writhed with fear as he thought of that but he ought to warn them.

At least he didn’t need his notebook to call Greg, he could remember his number, but the only phone in the house was in the hall and he didn’t want Dando to overhear what he was saying. He went through his pockets, collecting all his pennies. When he was dressed, he’d walk down to the nearest public phone box and ring from there.

The more Marcus thought about his situation, the more frightened he became. He had good reason to be anxious, he lay back against his pillows expecting every minute to hear a sharp ring on the doorbell and find those detectives had returned. Of course they could come back today. It wasn’t as though it was just him, there were a goodly number of criminals involved, cheating the state out of thousands if not millions. He heard Pa lumbering along to the bathroom and a little later he came to his bedroom door.

‘Nigel and Clarissa have invited both of us to Sunday lunch,’ he said. ‘It’s time you were shaving and getting ready.’

Marcus groaned, he’d forgotten all about that. He couldn’t go. He had things he must do. ‘I don’t feel well, Pa. Can you make my excuses?’

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Pa was irritable. ‘You’ve been acting strangely all weekend.’

‘I’ve eaten something that’s upset me. Must have been yesterday at that restaurant.’

‘You hardly ate anything there.’

‘I’ve vomited twice,’ Marcus lied. He couldn’t possibly go. ‘The last thing I want is more food.’

‘All right, but you’d better go to the doctor tomorrow if you aren’t better.’

‘I will,’ he agreed, relieved to get rid of Pa. Then he lay back on his bed and listened. If Dando was going to drive Pa to Nigel’s place, he’d have the house to himself and could ring Greg from here. He rehearsed the words he’d say. There must be no mention of the lost notebook, no mention of the names the police had asked about or his lie about his demob date. Just that they’d visited. Marcus sighed, knowing that wouldn’t do; Greg would want to know exactly what they’d said, and what questions they’d asked.

He heard Pa and Dando go out, so the coast was now clear. He shaved and dressed and was ready to go downstairs when he heard the front door open. It made him jump and fear brought a lump to his throat. Had Dando returned? Of course he had, why had he never questioned what he did between dropping and collecting Pa from his various appointments? No matter, he’d walk down to the phone box.

It was a cold day though fine and clear, but he was acutely anxious about what Greg was going to say. He slid his four pennies into the apparatus and gave the operator the number. He could hear it ringing and ringing until the girl came back to him. ‘There’s no answer, I’m afraid. Try again later.’

He was filled with frustration, he’d worked himself up to warn Greg and now he was out. He strode on down the hill for five minutes, looked in some shop windows before returning to the phone box to try again, but the result was the same. He felt desperate, he had to warn Greg. Time was going on, if he didn’t speak to him soon, he’d have to tell him the policeman had come this lunchtime, not yesterday.

He wanted to get right away from Liverpool before the police came back. He rushed home and began to pack. That done, he took two suitcases down to his car and locked them in the boot, then drove to the phone box to try Greg’s number again.

He couldn’t believe his good fortune when Elvira picked up the receiver. ‘You’ve got to help me,’ he said, ‘the police are on to me.’ He told her about the two detectives who had called on him at lunchtime, inferring it was today.

He heard her sharp intake of breath and knew the news frightened her. ‘There’s been nobody round here. What did they want to know?’

‘Did I drive a truck to Felixstowe on Friday, and have I ever taken vehicles to Harwich.’ Marcus wanted them to know how serious it was but he didn’t want the finger of blame pointed at him.

‘Oh my God! What did you say?’

‘I denied everything, what else could I do?’

‘Did they ask about the auctions? Did you say anything to make them suspicious?’

‘No, nothing, I’m not daft. The auctions were not mentioned, but I can’t stay at Pa’s place. The police could be back at any moment. I’ve packed a couple of bags, I’ll come over.’

‘No, Marcus, you can’t come here,’ she said sharply.

He shivered. It felt as though she’d thrown a bucket of cold water over him, she didn’t want him. ‘You’ve got to help me,’ he implored.

‘I will, don’t worry.’

‘Is Greg there?’

‘No, he’s out at the moment but he won’t be long.’

‘Are you living with him in that flat?’

‘No, I’ve told you, but don’t come here. Not under any circumstances.’

‘Why not?’ he demanded.

‘They could be watching you, you might be followed.’ That scared him even more. He didn’t dare tell her that they’d already asked about Greg and Clive.

‘Then what am I to do? I’m almost out of my mind.’

‘That’s only too obvious. Calm down and let me think.’

Marcus was at screaming point. ‘It’s a dire emergency. I’ve got to get away.’

‘Don’t panic,’ she said coldly. ‘Of course we’ll help you, it won’t help any of us if you get arrested and grilled by the police. Look, I need to alert the others. I’ll ring you back, Marcus, when Greg comes in and we’ve had time to think. Don’t worry about the police, I doubt they’ll be back today.’

‘I’m afraid they will, I’m worried stiff. You’ve got to …’ He heard the money run out and the phone go dead.

Another wave of panic ran through him. He had no more pennies but Elvira had said she’d ring him and she knew where to contact him. He took a couple of deep breaths, there was nothing for it; he’d have to go back to his father’s house.

All was quiet when he let himself in. Pa was home again, his coat and trilby were in the cloakroom; he’d be having his rest now. Marcus went up to his room but left the door open so he’d be sure to hear the phone ring in the hall below.

He’d never felt further from sleep but he lay down on his bed to wait and at last he heard the phone ring. He scrambled off the bed and rushed downstairs in his stockinged feet. Dando had already answered it. ‘It’s your wife, sir, she’d like a word.’

He whispered into the phone, ‘Hello, I can’t say much now, I could be overheard.’

‘You don’t need to say anything, we’ve got the picture.’ Elvira’s voice was forceful. ‘Listen carefully, Marcus. Get yourself down to Dover. Book yourself into the White Cliffs Hotel for a few nights, that’ll give you time to fix yourself up with something more permanent. It’s a small place two streets back from the harbour. Greg and I will meet you there. Have you got that?’

He assured her he had.

‘Don’t tell anybody where you’re going. You mustn’t leave a path that can be followed. That’s very important, Marcus.’

‘I know.’ He shuddered. At least Elvira and Greg understood his problem. They were as keen as he was to keep him out of the hands of the police.

Suddenly it was Greg’s voice speaking to him. ‘Marcus, you must have done something that’s attracted police attention.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ he wailed.

‘Then it’s that car of yours, it sticks out like a sore thumb. If that was seen anywhere suspicious, it would be child’s play to follow you. Get rid of it tomorrow. Stapleton’s garage on the Dock Road will take it off you for cash. You’ll even gain money on the deal because of the long waiting list for new Jaguars. Get yourself a Morris Eight. No, on second thoughts, it would be safer for you to travel by public transport for a time.’

‘Yes,’ he said faintly. He was suddenly aware that his father was coming downstairs. He lumbered past him and went into the sitting room. Moments later Dando emerged from the kitchen with a tea tray. Marcus missed something of what Greg had been saying.

‘. . . you can’t just disappear,’ he was going on. ‘You must spin a story to your family to explain your absence. We don’t want your father to report you as a missing person as that could start a hue and cry for you. We don’t want the police to speculate about your movements and it would look very suspicious if your father told them you had disappeared.’

‘All right.’

‘We’ll all lie low for a while and see if it blows over, but we might have to jettison everything. We need to see how things go.’

‘Lie low? But I can’t ever come back here. I wouldn’t want to.’

‘Marcus, tomorrow morning take the train down to Dover. Be sure to have your passport with you, in case we have to skip over to France. We’ll see you in the hotel.’

‘What was the name of it again?’

He heard Greg’s tongue click with irritation. ‘The White Cliffs, two streets back from the harbour. You can’t miss it.’

Marcus went back to his room and threw himself on the bed to think. He’d not taken any holiday since he’d started in the office. He’d been half afraid that in his absence Nigel would get his feet further under the table and he’d be elbowed out. He would tell everybody he wanted his holiday now and that he was going to see Elvira in Rochdale, they’d understand why.

Marcus went down to join his father for tea in the sitting room and spin him the story about needing a holiday now. He gave Elvira as his reason, and went on, ‘I haven’t had a break since I started last summer. I feel I need a rest and it’ll help me get over this stomach upset.’

Then he rang Nigel and gave him the same story. ‘Two weeks’ holiday starting tomorrow? For goodness sake, Marcus,’ he said, ‘you don’t give us much notice. Did you finish drawing up those tables I asked you to do?’

Marcus couldn’t remember agreeing to do anything for Nigel. ‘Er . . Not quite finished,’ he said.

Nigel sighed impatiently. ‘Well, it won’t take you long to drive to Rochdale. Could you come into the office first and bring me what you’ve done? I’ll finish the job while you’re away. And be sure to tell Millie that you’re going to see Elvira. Please don’t give her any more grounds for complaint.’

‘All right.’ He’d have to make time for that. What he needed to do now was to find out the times of the trains to Dover. He drove his car down to Lime Street Station and found there were two possibilities between eleven and midday, one train involving a change at Euston the other ran via through Birmingham. Neither would be easy, he’d have to wait three hours in Birmingham for a connection, or he’d have to take a taxi to cross London.