The mystery for me is how anyone trying to frame Hanratty using the murder weapon, hanky and ammunition, could possibly have known, expected or predicted that this impulsive and unpredictable young man would have no way of proving he was elsewhere. He could have met a girl and gone out on a date; he could have gone to a familiar pub or café where the regulars knew him from previous visits. But nothing. It's like he wandered round Liverpool invisible - when not in the sweetshop, speaking with an accent that didn't even shout "Londoner". The one time in his life when striking up conversations, or getting into them, could have saved his neck, he kept himself to himself and didn't stand out.
Whenever my better half and I visit Liverpool, and return to familiar pubs, shops and museums, we inevitably find people who will strike up conversations with us as a matter of course, and hearing our London accents [East End boy meets West End girl - thank you, The Pet Shop Boys] only makes people more eager to hear about why we are visiting their great city, where we are staying, what we are planning to do and what have you. It's almost the perfect place to be if you might be needing an alibi when you get back down south!
Rhyl? Not so much. I wasn't keen, personally, and green baths don't float my boat. But Rhyl can at least boast a Tarleton Street!

Love,
Caz
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