Chapter 1
Basking in the sunshine, Mickey Fenton sat in his immaculate garden and trimmed his fingernails, buffing them lightly with an emery board. A quick inspection and he picked up his cigar from the ashtray, a large crystal whisky tumbler beside him. A swish of the glass and a swig of single malt then smoke billowed skywards.
He wasn’t an ostentatious man, hadn’t bought into a move to the Wirral or Cheshire, wasn’t into flashy TAG Heuer or Rolexes and there was no Roller on the drive. A local man, he liked having local neighbours. Anyway, the house prices in Sandfield Park kept the riff-raff away.
With a BMW and Mercedes sat on the drive of his six-bedroomed house in a much sought after area of Liverpool and a Blancpain Fifty Fathoms red gold watch on his wrist, he liked to keep it low key.
Ten minutes earlier, he’d kissed his wife on the cheek and waved her off to her mother’s or maybe it was shopping, he didn’t know, he hadn’t been listening and frankly, he didn’t care. He’d been lucky, managing to avoid all contact with his mother-in-law for the past two years, the only part of that particular relationship he looked forward to was the funeral.
He’d been married to Sharon for longer than he dared to remember and some might think they had an open marriage. They didn’t; it was simply ajar.
Normally, he turned a blind eye; he was no saint himself, but he’d reached a turning point. Not only was Brannan shagging his wife but he was stealing his money as well. It was too much. He was taking the piss and no one took the piss out of Mickey Fenton and got away with it. He needed to set an example.
He poured another whisky and put the lighter back in his trouser pocket, catching his finger as he did so. Inspecting it, he swore then picked up the emery board and began filing his nail. Yeah, he had to set an example.
The car loaded up with her shopping, she now relaxed with a large glass of chilled chardonnay on the terrace overlooking the Dock. A sip: golden apples and baked pear with just a hint of fig. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply; slowly and playfully blowing the smoke into the air. She hadn’t been this happy, ever. She turned and smiled as she felt the hand on her shoulder.
“Hello, gorgeous.” John Brannan leaned down and kissed her gently and sensuously on the mouth.
She poured him a glass. They had things to talk about. She was going to be free of Mickey, soon. At last, her escape to a bright new future.
“Here’s to us,” he said as he raised his drink and their glasses chinked together. Her eyes sparkled, her smile radiant and innocent. She was beautiful.