Yesterday's Papers Read Online Free PDF Page B

remember the Brill Brothers?’
    â€˜Oh, the pop group?’
    â€˜Just a duo - and I don’t think they were brothers in real life.’
    Ken’s brow furrowed. ‘Weren’t they mixed up with some other murder case?’
    â€˜No idea.’
    Ken thought for a moment, then shook his head. ‘It’s gone. I’ll let you know when the story comes back to me. But I can’t say I remember much about them - or any of their songs. Truth is, I’m tone deaf. Can’t tell the difference between Beethoven and Bruce Springsteen. They both sound the same to me and it’s not a sound I care for. As far as I’m concerned, the written word’s the thing. The pen is mightier than the skiffle board.’ He laid down his plastic knife and fork. ‘So those are the dramatis personae ?’
    â€˜The ones I know about. A mixed bag, don’t you think?’
    â€˜I’ll be interested to hear how they react to your view that the police’s neat solution to the Sefton Park case may not have been correct.’
    â€˜It’s not my view. But I don’t believe in neat solutions.’
    â€˜You’re simply embarrassed by your repeated failures with our quick crossword.’ Ken wiped his mouth on a paper napkin bearing the ubiquitous smiley face. ‘That filled a corner. Give my compliments to the chef, even though he did go a little too easy on the gherkin.’
    â€˜So when can I expect you to delve into your files for a little more info?’
    â€˜I told you, it’s strictly against company rules.’
    â€˜You’ll enjoy the frisson .’
    â€˜Stop talking dirty. Look, I’ll see what I can do - on the understanding that if there’s a story in it at the end of the day, you’ll make sure I’m the first to know.’ He paused, then said, ‘Preferably a true story.’
    â€˜You never used to be so fussy. Listen, I’ll have a pint of best waiting for you in the Dock Brief tomorrow night. Six sharp?’
    â€˜I’ll be there.’ Ken flipped the empty burger carton into a wastepaper basket which again bore a smiley face. ‘And thanks for your lavish hospitality.’
    Harry set off home, the city was quiet, with the pubs full and the clubs yet to open. His route took him down Mathew Street, once the site of the old Victorian fruit warehouse which later became a club known as the Cavern. The Brill Brothers would certainly have played there. He was too young to remember what it had been like in Liverpool during the sixties, but people still talked about those golden days when the Beatles were on three times a week and a hat-check girl could change her name from Priscilla White to Cilla Black and suddenly find herself at number one in the charts. It had been a time of endless possibilities, when the world watched what went on in a dirty old port and when everyone believed that fame and fortune were waiting around the next corner.
    The Cavern had been bulldozed when Harry was still a boy, but he had heard enough about it for images of the place to be etched in his mind. The stink of oranges and cabbage in the street outside, the sweaty atmosphere within as a crush of kids clutching precious membership cards swayed to the rhythms of the Mersey Sound. Now those of Merseybeat’s pioneers who were left mostly propped up city centre bars, reminiscing about what might have been. John Lennon would never have dreamed he had so many bosom buddies or recognised the tat flogged as Beatles memorabilia by sixties survivors with an eye for a fast buck and a gullible punter.
    Pausing beneath the wall sculpture which celebrated the Four Lads Who Shook The World, Harry wondered what Ray Brill was doing these days. Had he, like Guy Jeffries, had his life ruined by his girlfriend’s savage murder? Was it somehow to blame for his own descent into obscurity? After Carole’s death the Brill Brothers had split up and