Murder. History. Mayhem.
Recently divorced, Ethan Hudson is looking for something to occupy his time and, encouraged by his daughter to get out more, he decides to sign up for a local evening history class. Hoping to meet new people, little does Ethan know that this course will change his life forever…
This is no ordinary history class. Instead, Ethan and his classmates are introduced to a series of mysterious murder cases that occurred over the last century within the county. At first they seem unrelated, but soon Ethan’s inquisitive and suspicious mind, fed on crime novels and detective shows, begins to see a pattern connecting the murders. But how could a series of murders dating back to 1911 have anything to do with the present day? And can Ethan solve the mystery before it is too late?
Who Wants to Live Forever?
Steve Wilson
STEVE WILSON says: I suppose in many ways I’m a late-starter as far as writing goes, waiting until I bought my first PC in 2000 before beginning a novel from an idea that I’d been mulling over for some ten years. That novel eventually became a trilogy, but my writing was sporadic during much of the noughties.
Things began to gather pace once I became a member of a local writing group, where I found being amongst like-minded peers of great benefit, and in 2011 — after writing short stories for a couple of years — I registered for the National Novel Writing Month, with the aim of writing a 50,000 word novel in thirty days. And that’s how “Who Wants To Live Forever?” came into being.
The premise for this novel had been with me for half a dozen years, ever since I attained a Post Graduate Certificate in Creative Writing. Work commitments prevented me from completing the course to Masters level, but I had already started to map out my major writing project, around the topic of unsolved murders in Lancashire in the twentieth century, and those plans formed a basis of what eventually became the novel.
When I’m writing, I spend a lot of time on the web as I enjoy researching the stories almost as much as writing them. I try and make the plotlines factually accurate, although I have to be careful and try not to let the story go off on a tangent as my research inevitably leads on to other non-related topics.
As to the future, although I primarily write crime or mystery tales, I’d like to explore other genres, if only out of interest.
This book is dedicated to my wife and children, who have had to carry on conversations around me while I have immersed myself in my writing. Also to my friends and colleagues at Fylde Brighter Writers, whose support and constructive criticism have helped me become a better writer, and to Victoria, Helen and Sue for their editorial assistance and advice, which I have found invaluable.
Contents
Prologue: Foreword — Thursday 14th September 2000
Chapter One: Week 1 — Overview — Tuesday 20th September 2011
Chapter Two: Week 2 — Manchester — Poisoning — Tuesday 27th September 2011
Chapter Three: Mike — Monday 3rd October 2011
Chapter Four: Week 3 — Ormskirk — Bludgeoning — Tuesday 4th October 2011
Chapter Five: Amber — Friday 7th October 2011
Chapter Six: Week 4 — Rochdale — Shooting — Tuesday 11th October 2011
Chapter Seven: Gail — Tuesday 11th October 2011
Chapter Eight: Week 5 — Bolton — Drowning — Tuesday 18th October 2011
Chapter Nine: Emma — Tuesday 25th October 2011
Chapter Ten: Week 6 — Vickerstown — Plummeting — Tuesday 1st November 2011
Chapter Eleven: Trish — Sunday 6th November 2011
Chapter Twelve: Week 7 — Elswick — Hit and Run — Tuesday 8th November 2011
Chapter Thirteen: Debbie — Sunday 13th November 2011
Chapter Fourteen: Week 8 — Accrington — Stabbing — Tuesday 15th November 2011
Chapter Fifteen: Louise — Monday 21st November 2011
Chapter Sixteen: Week 9 — Heysham — Suffocation — Tuesday 22nd November 2011
Chapter Seventeen: Week 10 — Darwen — Electrocution — Tuesday 29th November 2011
Chapter Eighteen: Mrs Rhodes’ Diary — Thursday 1st December 2011
Chapter Nineteen: Afterword — Summer 2022
Epilogue: Quebec — Wednesday November 30th 2022
Foreword — Thursday 14th September 2000
Amber Davore looked down at the lifeless form splayed out on the bathroom floor. Just minutes earlier, that body had contained the hopes and dreams for the future of fifty-five-year-old Alan Ingleby; now, it was nothing more than an empty shell.
Amber had known about his heart problems, and had used the knowledge to full advantage. Steam rose in equal measures from the near-overflowing bath and the hot mug of tea that Ingleby had placed on the floor seconds before his departure from this world; Amber leant forward to turn the tap off, only just managing to stop herself in time. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered, incensed at her foolishness. Her own heart was trying to force its way out of her ribcage and she took slow, deep breaths in an attempt to regain a measure of calm. Her foot knocked the mug, splashing the hot brown liquid over Ingleby’s outstretched arm. She smiled, a mirthless smile; she had often heard it said that somebody was dying for a cup of tea, but perhaps this time Ingleby might be considered to have taken it literally. Her attempt at light jocularity only partially settled her nerves.
The bath was almost full, bringing Amber’s attention back to the present situation. She found the stopcock and turned the water off. That meant she wouldn’t have to be paddling in red-hot water while she completed her task. She spent the next half-hour correcting the