Who Wants to Live Forever? (18 page)

“No, Ethan, that’s cheating,” said Debbie. “You’ll have to wait until next Tuesday like Louise said.”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry,” said Louise. “I can’t be persuaded to reveal anything I don’t want to. That’s
despite
what you might think after last week.”

“Yes,” interrupted Trish. “Who was it again? R… Ray, Robert, Rick?”

“I can say, though,” said Louise, loud enough to drown Trish out, “that you should be prepared to take a journey along the Lancashire coast towards Heysham next time round.” Louise smiled, then drained her drink. “I know we’ve only just arrived, but I meant it when I said I had to go after one drink. I really must leave now, while there are plenty of people around. I guess it sounds a bit melodramatic, but I’ve been convinced that somebody has been following me home for the last few nights. I even thought I saw Emma in the flats, but when I walked towards her, whoever it was had gone. I must have imagined it — perhaps I’m becoming paranoid,” she said, with an unconvincing laugh. “Anyway, see you all next week.”

And with that, Louise departed, leaving me feeling puzzled.

“What do you think that was all about?” asked Trish.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “She doesn’t really say that much when you think about it, but something must be really bothering her.”

“You were a little pushy with her tonight weren’t you?” asked Debbie. “Trying to get her to tell you what’s coming up next, I mean.”

“Sorry,” I replied. “Was it that obvious?”

“It was. But why? You’ve been perfectly content to wait every other week.”

“I know, but I finally think I know where this is all going. And I’ve a couple of ideas of my own — this is what Louise has been wanting all along, I think. I thought if she could give me just a little information, I’d be able to follow my own theories, and see if I come to the same conclusions as she has next Tuesday night.”

“What theories?” asked the women in unison.

“I’m not really sure yet. I need to go home and think about it all, but I’ll let you know when I see you next.” I stared into my pint and thought about what Louise had said:
perhaps I can avert another tragedy
and
if I hadn’t lost interest after the John incident, I might…
She really did believe something was going to happen soon, and I was coming round to her way of thinking as well.

The conversation acted to kill the mood, and I think all three of us were happy to finish our drinks and make our way home. I barely even noted that I’d agreed to meet Trish again on the Friday night. Debbie didn’t suggest we take up where we left off the week before, and I began to wonder if she really had been as tired as she claimed to be; she had certainly shown no signs of weariness this evening.

I hurried home, took out my notebook, tore out a sheet of paper, and then began to write down the dates of the murders as I knew them so far; there was no doubt in my mind that Louise was correct, and that all of the deaths were linked. I looked at the figures I’d jotted down:
6
^th
January 1911; 24
^th
March 1922; 9
^th
June 1933; 25
^th
August 1944; 10
^th
November 1955; 26
^th
January 1967
— that had been the one that threw me — and
13
^th
April 1978
. I was right; there was a difference of eleven years and a few months between each one. I grew curious. Exactly
how
many months? In all cases, it was less than three. After a few scribbled calculations, I found that there were eleven years and seventy-seven days between the first and second murders; exactly eleven years and eleven weeks. Another set of scribblings showed the same gap between the second and third killings. I wasn’t surprised to find the same period of eleven years and eleven weeks separated all of the murders. Had Louise come to the same conclusion? Was this what had led her onto this search more than a decade ago?

Extrapolating this information told me when the subject of next week’s murder in Heysham would be if I were correct:
29
^th
June 1989
. Which meant that the last murder would be on…again, a quick calculation…
14
^th
September 2000
. That one would have happened just after Louise ceased her investigations because of her partner’s unacceptable actions. The one that caused her to say
who knows what might have happened?

I was about to turn in for the night when I realised the full implication of what I had just discovered; and also of what I had just assumed. Who said it was the
last
murder? If there was a pattern, wasn’t it likely to be repeated? Wasn’t that what Louise was referring to when she said she was convinced something was going to happen? There was one way to find out — calculate the next date using the 11-11 formula and see when it was going to be. I jotted the numbers down, double-checked the calculation and then stared at the date I had written down.
Wednesday, 30
^th
November 2011
. Just over a fortnight away. That was when Louise hoped to avert another tragedy.
That
was what this course was all about.

What was so special about the number eleven? I didn’t know, but computers were supposed to be the fount of information, weren’t they? I’d bought one, so I might as well make use of it. I knew about Google, so I typed in ‘
what is special about the number eleven
’ on the search page and unearthed a host of documents. Some were nothing to do with what I was looking for, but many were; they suggested that eleven was a ‘Power Number’, with numerologists claiming it represented impractical idealism. Was this all about perfectionism? But the numerologists also warned of the number’s negative aspects, of which treachery was high on the list. I shuddered. Somebody was about to be betrayed, and I didn’t want to think about this puzzle any more; I no longer wanted to be the master detective.

I switched my computer off as I tried to deny what was happening; if I couldn’t see the details about betrayal on screen, then none of this was really happening. I tried to sleep, but images kept traipsing through my mind, and I awoke wearier than I had been when I had gone to bed, but with a clear realisation that I couldn’t ignore what I had uncovered.

***

I could hardly wait for Tuesday to arrive, but this time for different reasons. I wanted to get to the class early and present my information to Louise and tell her I knew what it was all about. But that was still half a dozen days away. I considered phoning Debbie to let her know what I’d discovered, but thought better of it; she didn’t like talking about murders at the best of times, and if she knew there was perhaps one waiting in the wings, it could totally freak her out. Trish, though, was a slightly different proposition, and, although I had found her to be a little shallow the week before, I reasoned that she might be a good subject to test out my theories on when we met on the Friday evening.

The first really cold evening of the winter faced me when I left the flat and walked to my car. It wasn’t freezing yet, but the clear sky promised an overnight frost. I drove to our usual pub and met Trish outside; she was shivering despite being well-wrapped up against the cold.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long,” I said.

“No, I’ve only just arrived, but it
is
cold. Let’s go inside.”

As we entered the lounge bar, I noticed that there were a few more people in this week. There were some empty tables, but almost all of them had noisy groups of youths sitting at the adjoining table. “Do you want to go somewhere else? I’m sure we’ll be able to find a quieter pub.”

Trish scanned the bar. “No, let’s stay here. At least it’s warm. Look, there’s a table over in the corner, and there’s only an old lady sitting at the one behind it. That should be quiet enough.”

I looked at where she was pointing. The corner was much quieter than the rest of the lounge bar, but for good reason; the lighting wasn’t working correctly in that part of the room, and it looked distinctly dingy. The old woman was well insulated against the cold in what seemed to be several layers of warm clothing. I half smiled, guessing that Trish relished the chance of perhaps keeping warm by sitting close together in the dark. But she was correct; it would allow us to talk in relative peace and quiet.

I led the way to the table and sat down, expecting Trish to sit opposite me as usual, but she came and sat alongside me, moving up close so our thighs were touching. “Brrrr,” she exclaimed, exaggeratedly. “I’d almost forgotten how cold it can get after the recent spell of mild weather.”

I was feeling the warmth of the close contact, and ordinarily I would have found the experience to be extremely pleasant, but I had too many other things on my mind to fully appreciate the sensation.
Besides
, I told myself,
you’ve already chosen Debbie
.
The only reason you’re here tonight is to see if your theory makes sense
. I looked up to make sure that nobody was watching, as I didn’t want to cause Trish any embarrassment, and as there was nobody within a dozen yards of us I moved away from her a fraction. Before she could react, I began to speak. “There’s something I’ve discovered, Trish. It’s about the murders. I’ve been looking into the dates, and there
is
a pattern.”

She waited a few seconds before replying, and I almost thought she was going to ignore me because of my apparent rejection of her. Finally, she responded. “You mean the
eleven
years thing? But that went out of the equation when there was that murder in, when was it, 1968?”

“It was 1967. But it still fitted the pattern. The murders
have
taken place at set intervals. But it isn’t just eleven years; it’s eleven years and eleven weeks. In
every
single case. And that’s only the start of it. If you project forward, I’m pretty sure I’ve identified when the next two cases took place.”

“Are you going to talk to Louise about them?”

“I can’t before Tuesday, but I intend to get there early and talk to her before the class starts. Because there’s more to it. This could be a pattern that recurs indefinitely, and if it is, then the next murder is due in less than a fortnight. On November thirtieth to be precise. And I think
that
is what Louise is hoping to identify and prevent.”

“What? But surely, if there’s going to be another murder, you should go to the police.”

“What with? A suspicion that something is going to happen somewhere in Lancashire in a fortnight? They wouldn’t take any notice of that — in fact I might find
I’m
the one under arrest for wasting police time.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. Louise has been involved with this far longer than I have. I’m hoping she’ll be able to provide the answers.”

“What about Debbie?”

“I’m not going to tell her, Trish. You know how upsetting she’s found the gruesome details. If I said there might be another murder, and we’ve been learning all about how it’s going to happen, I don’t know how she’d cope.”

“I understand. She’ll find out anyway, though, if you’re right. Won’t she?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“And do you know
where
these other murders took place? Or will take place?”

“No,” I said. “I haven’t been able to work that out.”

The woman at the next table began to cough throatily, and I decided that, despite the cold, it might be best if we went to another pub. When I suggested as much to Trish, though, she declined. “No, Ethan, not tonight. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

I was disappointed, partly because there was more I wanted to discuss about the murders, and also because I realised I still found Trish interesting and alluring. I had probably overreacted when I found out she enjoyed TV programmes that I didn’t. If truth be told, I wasn’t particularly interested in watching ballet; I would have been on Albert’s side, voting for the horror movie.

As we left Trish gave me a peck on the cheek, and my mind was in turmoil as I drove away.

***

As I had nothing arranged with Debbie for the following evening, I found myself at a loose end. Throughout Saturday, I kept returning to my notebook to look at the dates, hoping that something would leap out at me and give me the answers I was craving.

Eventually, I decided I couldn’t sit at home moping any more. I rang Debbie, hoping to arrange to meet her for a drink and a chat — I even considered telling her about my findings — but there was no answer.

Too many conflicting things were vying for my attention: Debbie, Trish, unsolved murders, preventing a murder-in-waiting. I tried to forget about the cases, concentrating instead on the two women who had entered my life over the previous few weeks. I was finding it impossible to choose between them, with each of them alternating between taking centre stage as I considered their relative merits and demerits. Eventually, I concluded that casting another look at the murders might help take my mind off the women. And, perhaps, might help me finally make my choice.

It was mid-afternoon, just beginning to go dark, and I decided to go for a drive. I found myself heading into Preston, without really knowing why, and then I had an idea. I knew the date of the next murder; at least, I was fairly certain I knew it: June twenty-ninth 1989. And I knew the location, Heysham. I had often called in the Harris Library to make use of their reference section, and I wondered if I might be able to find out anything in the local newspapers. Admittedly, Heysham was a little outside the reporting range of the
Lancashire Evening Post
, but if it had been a notable murder, it might well have made the Preston press.

I parked in a side road close to the university and set a quick pace towards the library. It was after four p.m., and the library was only open until five, but I figured that should give me sufficient time to check the old microfilm copies of the newspaper. Running up the steps two at a time, I headed into the reference section. Fortune favoured me, for one of the readers wasn’t being used, and I asked the librarian for the film for June 1989.