All the Lonely People by Martin Edwards

fiction.”
    â€œI doubt it,” said Jim. “Liz didn’t know the difference herself.”
    Harry felt stung. “Easy for you to say that.”
    â€œTrue, though.”
    â€œCoghlan’s a vicious bastard. If she walked out on him . . .”
    â€œHe’s a robber and a thug, by all accounts. Not necessarily a murderer.”
    â€œNot until now.”
    His partner jabbed his midriff with a gentle punch. “Look, old son, I know you hate Coghlan. Don’t blame you for that, you have good reason. But don’t let hatred get a hold of you. It’s a cancer, it’ll do you harm. And don’t start convincing yourself that anything you could have done might have saved Liz’s life. Odds are, she was just unlucky. This is a dangerous city, the same could happen to anyone. Sickening, I know, but you mustn’t let yourself become smothered by what might have been.”
    Examining the worn areas of the office carpet, Harry said quietly, “Of course, you’re right.”
    â€œYes.” Jim climbed to his feet. “You ready for a late spot of something to eat?”
    â€œI’m meeting Maggie at the Traders’. There are things we have to talk about.”
    Jim nodded. “Understood. When’s the funeral?”
    â€œNot for a while, I gather. Skinner will want the inquest over first.”
    On his way out, Jim stopped at the door. “Look, anything I can do . . .”
    â€œYes. Thanks.”
    â€œWhy don’t you come over, spend the night at our place? Longer if you like. Heather would be glad if you did; in fact, she’ll give me hell if you don’t. Help the boys with their homework - they reckon the two of us are as thick as planks.”
    Harry shook his head. “I appreciate it, really do. But at present I think I’d feel better on my own, making an effort to sort some sense out of this mess.”
    â€œUp to you, old son. The offer remains open. Anytime you’d like to take advantage, shout.”
    Left alone, Harry shuffled rapidly through the papers on his desk. Jim and Lucy had already organised his work so that Ronald Sou and the articled clerk, Sylvia, were handling the more urgent matters. A couple of court cases had been briefed out for barristers to deal with and there wasn’t any pressing reason for him to come back to the office in the afternoon. Except that he wanted to. The run-of-the-mill workload at least offered the reassurance of familiar territory: arguments between neighbours and shoplifting from department stores, far removed from the finality of death in a bleak back alley.
    The Traders’ Club was five minutes’ walk away, tucked in the shadow of the huge ochre-faced insurance building that Scousers called the Sand Castle. As he reached Old Hall Street, he caught sight of his sister-in-law, standing by the steps that led up to the double oak doors. Her slim figure was wrapped in a huge white fur coat, her elfin features scarcely visible beneath an engulfing scarf of hand-painted silk. She moved forward and clasped him to her in a gesture that was as sudden as it was welcome. He felt the warmth of her breath on his cheek and for the first time since Skinner and Macbeth had rung at his front door he was able to lose himself in the hug, clinging to her, reluctant to let go.
    Maggie took his hand in hers and stepped back. “It’s been a long time.”
    â€œToo long.” He returned the pressure of her hand. “You’re more attractive then ever.” It wasn’t an appropriate comment to make on this occasion, but he meant it and had never quite mastered the lawyer’s knack of not saying what came immediately into his head. Maggie had never matched Liz for glamour, nor had she attempted to, but her small, up-turned face had a natural charm that the dismay in her grey eyes could not diminish.
    â€œShall we go inside?”
    The Traders’ might be only