Riot

by Heather Atkinson

  He cupped her face in his hands. “If we start living in fear sweetheart then they win.”

  “I know, I keep telling myself that but I can’t help it. I’ve never felt so helpless than when we were trapped in that barn waiting for it to collapse on top of us.”

  “But it didn’t. We escaped.”

  “Thanks to Battler.”

  “Yes, thanks to Battler. And it was thanks to ourselves that we evaded Hayden and his sniper rifle.”

  “I’m sorry, I sound like a proper wuss, don’t I?”

  “No. You sound like someone who’s gone through several traumatic ordeals yet here you are, still standing, still strong. They keep trying to knock you down and they keep failing.”

  “I hope one day they stop trying,” she said sadly. “Sometimes I think back to when I was a nurse, before I met Danny. How peaceful would my life have been if I’d never met him? What if I’d married someone with a normal job and I’d seen through my nursing career, helping people instead of hurting them?” she said, looking down at her bruised knuckles.

  Ryan swallowed hard. She was wondering what life would have been like if she hadn’t married him too.

  “Then I think I wouldn’t want that life,” she continued, smiling at him. “Because if I’d chosen that path I wouldn’t have met you and I would go through all the bad stuff again - the Jordans, having my throat cut by Alex, the carnage at the wedding if it meant I got my life with you.”

  Ryan pressed his forehead to hers. “Sweetheart. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too Ryan. You’re absolutely everything to me. So I will get over this trauma. They won’t win.”

  “No they won’t.”

  “Thank you. I feel better for talking it through. Once you get things out, they don’t seem so bad anymore.”

  “Glad to hear it. Now lie back. You deserve a treat.”

  “I thought I just had one,” she purred.

  “I do believe that was my treat. This one is yours,” he said, kissing his way down her body.

  As her husband’s tongue worked its magic inside her, Rachel felt the last of her fear and pain melt away. It would return, there was no doubt but Ryan would always be there to make it go away again.

  Leonidas was glad he’d decided to start smoking again. He couldn’t cope with his job without some sort of vice. Unlike a lot of his colleagues he couldn’t drink as he was allergic to alcohol and it made him act in ways that no decent human being, especially a police officer, should behave. It was either the fags or glue sniffing. As he wasn’t a spotty adolescent the fags it was. Now he’d had his full quota of nicotine he was able to face the rotting mess on the mortuary slab that had once been a woman with more equanimity.

  “Did you have to call me down here for this Tom?” he demanded of the pathologist. “Couldn’t you have picked up the phone instead?”

  “This is big,” said the grim-faced Tom. “We’ve had an ID.”

  “Who is it then? Amelia Earhart? Anastasia Romanov?”

  “I’d forgotten what a weird sense of humour you have Stephen.”

  “With a surname like mine you need one. So go on then, who is she?”

  “Estelle Law.”

  Leonidas blinked. “Who?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the infamous Law family in Manchester? They teamed up with the Maguires and now they’re one big happy criminal family.”

  “Oh yes, them. So how does this Estelle fit in?”

  “She’s mother to Ryan, Jez and Jules Law, some of the most prominent and powerful members of that family.”

  “Really? So how did she end up in a grave in some woodland in Liverpool?”

  “That’s your job, not mine.”

  “So no connection to our serial killer then?”

  “No, sorry but without your serial killer we wouldn’t have found Estelle here. She was buried very deep. Whoever was responsible didn’t want her to be found. Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the back of the head.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that. You don’t need to be a pathologist to tell that.”

  “In my experience police officers often need the bloody obvious pointing out to them.”

  “And in my experience pathologists are creepy, patronising bastards.”

  Tom’s smile was gracious. “Now I remember why I invited you down here Stephen, I do so enjoy your company. You don’t get much of that in this job,” he said, looking down at Estelle. “I don’t envy the person who has to tell her scary family about this.”

  “Well I’m not doing it. I’ll palm it off on some Manc detective. I’ve got enough on my plate.”

  “This murder was committed on your patch. It’s your problem. Maybe you should pay a visit to Manchester?”

  “Do I tell you how to cut open mangled corpses, take out their brains and stick them on weighing scales?”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t let lack of knowledge on your part stop you.”

  “You’ve been hanging around with corpses too long Tom, you’re as stiff as one.”

  “Speaking of which, how are you and your wife getting on?”

  “You cheeky bastard, you know we’re divorced and that she wants to feed my nuts through a mangler.”

  “She’s got one small enough then?”

  “Oh ha bloody ha. You know something Tom, you’re weird. Get out into the land of the living once in a while, you might remember how to interact with the rest of the human race.”

  “I did once. I find the dead much more interesting.”

  “Spooky bugger. Right, I’m off. I’m going to indulge in another ciggie then I’ll try to find someone I can palm this case onto.”

  “The DCS won’t allow that. It’s going to be high profile and they’ll want their best detective on it.”

  “Maigret’s taking a day off.”

  “You aren’t classy enough for Maigret. You’re more of a Gene Hunt.”

  “I like him, he makes me laugh, which is more than you do.”

  “Go and enjoy your cigarette Stephen,” Tom called after him as he left. “You never know, one day you might end up on my slab too, your lungs stuffed full of nasty black tar. Don’t worry though, if you do I’ll be sure to treat your corpse with respect, although your brain probably won’t tax my scales too much.”

  Leonidas turned to glare at him over his shoulder. He took out the cigarette packet, crumpled it up and tossed it into the bin before storming out.

  “Works every time,” Tom told Estelle’s remains. “He’s the seventh police officer I’ve helped quit smoking with that line.”

  Leonidas returned to his desk, pissed off after the DCS had firmly told him the Estelle Law case was his. Like he didn’t have enough to do tracking down The Make-Up Killer, which in his opinion was the priority. Who cared who had shot some old tart who’d spawn three vicious gangsters? Worst of all, he’d been ordered to go to Manchester and inform Jez and Jules Law personally. On the bright side, it would keep him occupied until the results from the post mortem on the latest Make-Up victim were in.

  With a sigh he dragged himself to his feet and snatched up his car keys, wishing he hadn’t thrown that packet of cigarettes away. So what if he ended up on Tom’s mortuary slab? At least he might get some bloody peace.

  Once he was outside the door he took out his vape to try out the new flavour he’d selected in the desperate hope that it might actually stop him wanting a ciggie.

  He took in a deep drag and smiled. Mmmm, minty.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jules sat astride Mikey, brandishing a riding crop.

  “You look better,” she told him.

  “I bloody feel it,” he grinned up at her, arms tied to the bedpost, green eyes glittering with excitement. “I love the female gladiator look by the way,” he added, taking in all the tight leather. “It really suits you.”

  “Wait until I put on the helmet,” she said, leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve it. “Oh for God’s sake,�
�� she said when the doorbell rang. “Who the hell is that?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. Ignore it.”

  She sighed when the bell rang again and there was a pounding on the door. “I can’t concentrate with that racket going on.” She replaced the helmet on the floor, got up off the bed and pulled on her dressing gown. “Back in a minute babe.”

  “Jules,” he called after her as she left the room.

  “Thinking of you naked and helpless up here will get me so hot,” she purred at him before leaving.

  “Jules…” He sighed when she vanished. “Well I’m getting bloody cold,” he muttered.

  She hurried downstairs. “Alright, I’m coming,” she yelled at the door when the bell rang again. She pulled it open to reveal a large, attractive man with shaggy black hair. “What?” she snapped at him.

  “Jules Maguire?”

  “What of it?” She rolled her eyes when he took out a warrant card. “Oh great, a copper. What the bloody hell do you want?”

  “I’m Detective Inspector Leonidas,” he said. “Could I talk to you please?”

  “Love the name but you’re not getting in without a warrant.”

  “I’m not here to search the premises Madam. I have some news.”

  “About what?”

  “Your mother.”

  Jules was accomplished at hiding things from the police, so she didn’t even flinch. “What’s the old cow done now?”

  “I’m afraid I’m here to tell you that she’s dead. I’m very sorry for your loss,” he added as she stared at him in shock. He hated rolling out that trite line, it always sounded woefully inadequate but there was nothing else he could say.

  Jules thought it fortunate he seemed to think she was shocked by the news of her mother’s death, which of course she already knew about. Jules was shocked but only because Estelle’s body had been found.

  “Come in,” she said, opening the door wider.

  “Thank you,” he replied, following her in. “I hope I haven’t interrupted your ablutions,” he said, indicating her black dressing gown.

  “You interrupted something,” she muttered. “Take a seat in there,” she added, indicating the lounge. “I’ll just get my husband. He’s tied up, literally.”

  Jules couldn’t help but smile at the shock in the police officer’s eyes.

  “Finally, you’re back,” said Mikey when she returned to the bedroom. “Now can we get on with it?”

  “Sadly no,” she sighed, eyeing her husband’s naked and very appealing body with regret. She closed the bedroom door. “There’s a Scouse copper downstairs. Estelle’s been found,” she whispered.

  “Shit, how?” he whispered back.

  “I don’t know but we need to find out,” she said, releasing him from his bonds.

  Hastily they pulled on their clothes and headed downstairs to find Leonidas staring out of the window into the garden.

  “DI Leonidas,” introduced Jules. “This is my husband, Mikey Maguire.”

  “Mr Maguire,” said Leonidas seriously, shaking his hand.

  “Inspector,” said Mikey. “Please, take a seat.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, occupying an armchair while they took the couch opposite. Leonidas had to own that they weren’t what he’d expected. They had excellent manners and looked very respectable, even though it was evident that he’d interrupted them mid-coitus.

  “Drink?” Jules offered him.

  “No thank you Mrs Maguire.”

  “So,” she continued. “Estelle’s dead?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he said not unsympathetically.

  “Let me guess. She OD’d?”

  “No. She was found in some woodland in Liverpool. I’m sorry to say that she was shot in the head.” Leonidas studied them carefully. They both exhibited the expected surprise but then again they hadn’t got where they were by revealing their true feelings. Mikey took his wife’s hand in a consoling gesture and she gave him a sweet, sad smile.

  Jules was the first to speak. “Liverpool? What was she doing in Liverpool?”

  “We’re not sure. When was the last time you saw your mother Mrs Maguire?”

  “At my wedding to my first husband, Jackson. She burst in drunk at the reception. My brothers escorted her off the premises. She went off into the night and we never saw her again.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “About three and a half years. I’ve not heard from her since.”

  “So you weren’t close?”

  “No, not at all. She was far too concerned with drink and drugs to bother with her children. I’m not going to lie to you DI Leonidas, we won’t shed many tears for her.”

  “Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her?”

  “Yes, I’m sad to say. She had an enormous mouth and didn’t think twice about telling people what she thought about them.”

  “Does anyone specific spring to mind?”

  “Not really.”

  Leonidas inwardly sighed. He had hoped he’d be given a name, he could go and nick them, they’d confess and bang, case closed and he could get back to catching The Make-Up Killer but it wasn’t going to be that easy. For all he knew he was looking at Estelle’s killers right now but if he was he doubted there was any evidence to find. “So you don’t know why she was in Liverpool?”

  “No,” replied Jules. “She did like to travel about.”

  “The post mortem showed she’d been dead about eight months.”

  “Really? I assumed you meant it had just happened. My mother’s been dead eight months,” she repeated more to herself than him.

  “I’m sorry Mrs Maguire, perhaps I should have told you that first.”

  Jules’s grey gaze locked with his. She knew that had been a test, he would be a stupid man not to suspect her or her family of Estelle’s murder.

  “You should have mentioned it sooner,” growled Mikey, wrapping an arm around his wife.

  “I do apologise but eight months ago there was some trouble in Liverpool. A number of bodies were found in a burnt out house and Andrew Clayton - a prominent local businessman - and his brother vanished.”

  “You think there’s some connection?” said Mikey.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not but we’re looking into it.”

  “Who found my mother’s body?” said Jules. “I’d like to thank them.”

  “A police sniffer dog. We were searching for another body, the victim of a serial killer who just happened to dump their last victim close to where your mother was found.”

  Jules shivered. “That’s chilling.”

  It took Mikey everything he had to keep a straight face. Like anything could creep out Jules.

  Leonidas looked from one to the other. He was wasting his time here. If they did know anything they weren’t about to give it away. “Well thank you for your time Mr and Mrs Maguire,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll leave you to grieve in peace. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” said Jules.

  He handed her his card. “If you think of anything…”

  “I’ll let you know and you’ll keep me updated about your investigation?”

  “I will.”

  “Have you spoken to my brothers yet?”

  “Not yet. Jez is next on my list.”

  Jules nodded. “I take it you’re not going down to Devon, so I’ll let Ryan know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you out,” said Mikey, following him to the door.

  Once Leonidas had gone Mikey returned to Jules, who looked grim.

  “Can you believe it?” he said as he retook his place beside her. “A serial killer dumps his victim practically on top of Estelle and a sniffer dog finds her.”

  “I know,” she glowered. “Even dead the old bitch is still a pain in the arse. It’s not Damon’s fault, I saw the grave he put her in. It was bloody deep.”

  “I don’t blame him. It’s just shite luck.
”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s her.”

  “You mean Estelle?”

  “Yeah. It’s typical of her to not do us all a favour and stay dead. This is her revenge.”

  “She’s gone babe. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

  There was a beat of thoughtful silence before Jules smiled self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m being bloody daft. Leonidas can ask all the questions he likes, there’s no evidence linking us to anything.”

  “Exactly. Shall I make a brew?” he said, thinking after that conversation she wouldn’t want to resume where they’d left off.

  “No. You can get your sexy arse back upstairs, we’ve got another couple of hours before the boys finish school.”

  “But I thought after…”

  She kissed him. “I’m horny babe and not even that conversation can make that go away.”

  “Great,” he grinned, leaping to his feet.

  “Just let me call Jez and Ryan first,” she said, picking up the phone.

  Jez rejected the call from Jules on his mobile phone. Whatever it was could wait.

  “Finally, some peace and quiet,” he said, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist and kissing her neck.

  “George is asleep then?” replied Cathy, her hands dunked in the washing up bowl.

  “He is and the other two are at school,” he said, sliding his hands under her jumper. “It’s just the two of us. Let’s take advantage of it.”

  “You offering to fix the pantry door for me?” she smiled.

  He turned her round to face him. “No. I’m talking about shagging you senseless.”

  “There was a time when you at least attempted to romance me.”

  “I’d love to lavish you with roses and wine and jewellery but we’re on a time limit. George could wake up any minute.”

  She dried her hands on a tea towel and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t need all those things, I just need you. However it would be nice if you used a more pleasant term than ‘shagging me senseless’.”