“You smell like bubblegum Sir,” he grinned.
“It’s my sodding vape. Now for the second time, what have you got for me?”
“Fibre results back from Robert Robinson,” he replied, shoving a folder at him.
Robert Robinson was the latest victim of The Make-Up Killer who’d been dumped on top of Estelle Law. Talk about doubly bad luck.
“Let’s hope to God our man slipped up this time,” said Leonidas. “All the fibres in the past have told us nothing.”
Smithy just shrugged and perched on the edge of Leonidas’s desk to tuck into a chocolate éclair, dripping cream down his shirt. Leonidas shook his head and turned his attention to the report before him. He went rigid when he read one particular sentence - fibres match gym gloves typically worn by weightlifters. Black with green trim around the wrist.
“You alright Sir?” said Smithy. “You’ve not blinked for nearly a minute.”
“Get your arse off my paperwork,” he snapped, tugging at the corner of the desired folder to encourage him to shift.
“Sorry,” he mumbled through the pastry, getting to his feet.
Frantically Leonidas flipped it open and flicked to the relevant report. “It’s him.”
“Who’s what Sir?” said Smithy, spraying crumbs onto the floor.
“The man who found Robert’s body in the woods, Carl Martin. He was wearing those gloves. I spotted one sticking out of his jacket pocket.”
“But he said he chased after the killer.”
“We’ve only his word for that. There were no other witnesses. He probably wanted to look heroic.”
“Surely our killer wouldn’t make a mistake like that? He’s always been so careful.”
“These creeps always slip up, usually by doing something stupid.”
“Or maybe he got tired of waiting for us to catch him and decided to leave an obvious clue?”
Leonidas glared at the sergeant. “If it is him we’ve caught him with good detective work and don’t you forget it.”
“Shall we haul him in?”
“We don’t have enough for that. Just because he was wearing similar gloves doesn’t mean he’s our killer. It could just be a coincidence.”
“You’re always saying there’s no such thing as coincidences Guv.”
“Sadly that nugget of wisdom won’t stand up in court. If he’s not our man and I haul a traumatised witness over the coals then I’ll be in deep shit. But it should be enough to get a search warrant,” he said, picking up the phone. “Go and change your shirt you messy sod. I want you presentable for tearing apart Mr Martin’s home.”
Despite this exciting breakthrough the whole DCI Dwyer dilemma still nagged at the back of Leonidas’s mind. Still, no time to think about that now. He had a serial killer to catch.
Rachel knew she was being followed. The silver Lexus was keeping three cars back but every time she looked it was still there and she’d purposefully gone on a long meandering drive around Torquay to see if it would turn off elsewhere. It hadn’t.
Liam Garrick drove a silver Lexus.
Using the Bluetooth, she called Michelle, whose voice sounded even deeper over the phone and some of her clients had been shocked to turn up at the office to find she was in fact a woman.
“Michelle, it’s Rachel. I need you to confirm Liam Garrick’s licence plate number for me.”
Battler had been careful to teach Michelle not to waste time with stupid questions, so after a brief pause while she looked up the information she recited the number back to her.
“Shit,” sighed Rachel.
“Problem?”
“He’s following me.”
“Oh hell. Where are you?”
“Torquay. About ten minutes from your office.”
“Come straight here lady. No heroics.”
“On my way,” she replied before hanging up.
The Lexus remained at a respectable distance for the rest of the journey. When she pulled up outside Michelle’s office the Lexus did the same. Michelle was waiting for her at the door, arms folded across her substantial bosom.
“Rachel, you alright?” said Michelle, stepping forward to greet her.
“Of course,” she smiled.
They both turned to look as the Lexus drew up behind Rachel’s car. He climbed out and approached them, fastening up the jacket of his expensive suit. “Rachel. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Yes, what a coincidence,” she said flatly. “Only I noticed you following me for the last twenty miles.”
“Really? How odd. We must be fated to go in the same direction.”
“The only thing odd around here is you,” glowered Michelle.
Liam turned his charming smile on her. “And who is this delight?”
“This delight is going to ram her fist down your throat if you don’t leave Rachel alone.”
“Leave her alone? What on earth do you mean?”
“You’ve been making threats and following her about.”
“I can assure you I’ve done nothing of the sort. Perhaps this is all part of some fantasy of hers?” He looked back at Rachel. “You must have read one too many of those tacky romance novels you so enjoy.”
“How do you know what I read?” she frowned.
He shrugged. “I must have heard somewhere. You can’t keep anything a secret around here.”
“So what are you doing here?” said Rachel. “Have you come to the beauty salon or the dog grooming parlour?” she asked, indicating the businesses either side of Michelle’s office.
“Actually I came to talk to her,” he replied, gesturing to Michelle.
“About what?”
“That’s between the two of us, although I do wish to employ her services.”
“You must be joking,” said Michelle.
“Not at all. I wish you to investigate this woman and her family,” he said, nodding at Rachel.
“You can piss right off,” retorted Michelle.
“Now there’s no need for that, although I understand where you’re coming from. The two of you are friends?”
“Yeah, so you can do one. And just so you know, whatever weird stunt you’re trying to pull, it won’t work.”
“I’m not the one trying to pull a stunt. I’ve heard rumours that Mrs Law and her husband are fighters of injustice.”
Michelle snorted with laughter. “You what?”
“Vigilantes,” he said, looking back at Rachel. “And I want to know if there’s any truth in it.”
“If you want to waste your time listening to rumours like some gossiping all biddy then you can but don’t inflict it on the rest of us.”
“You see,” he went on. “One of the victims of these so-called vigilantes was my own cousin, Harry Nelson.”
Rachel’s colourful history meant that she was excellent at concealing her true feelings so she failed to react. “Who?” was all she said.
“Hey, back off,” said Michelle, putting herself before Rachel when he stepped closer to her.
“I’ve met some people with excellent poker faces in the courtroom and across the negotiating table,” said Liam. “But yours Rachel really has to be the best I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Course you don’t,” said Michelle. She looked to Liam. “Now bugger off. I’m not interested in working for you.”
“Not even if I pay you a huge amount of money?”
“I know this will come as a shock to you but not all of us are willing to sell our souls for cash. I wonder what your price was?”
The patronising smile was wiped off his face. “In that case I’ll take my leave of you ladies. Good day.”
They watched him return to his car and climb in.
“That is one huge freak,” said Michelle as he drove off, staring at them as he passed by.
“You’re not wrong there.”
“When’s Ryan back?”
“Don’t know. Things are far fr
om over in Manchester.”
“You shouldn’t be on your own in that house with the kids.”
“You’re right,” she replied, more scared for her children than herself. “Are either Fletch or Leo free? They could have the guest house.” Fletch and Leo had worked security at her nightclubs in Manchester. They’d impressed Battler and Bruiser so much they’d taken them on and now they worked full time for the Devon branch of the firm.
“I’ll call them and send one of them over,” replied Michelle. “Sadly I think you’re going to need them. In the meantime I’ll do some digging. This creep’s just got started.”
Leonidas returned to the police station in triumph. His search of Carl Martin’s home had yielded trophies from every one of The Make-Up Killer’s victims - their driving licences to be specific. When confronted with them Carl had broken down and confessed to the murders before leading officers to his cellar. They’d ripped up a couple of floorboards to reveal bundles of the victims’ clothes. Leonidas’s pleasure at closing such a high profile case was marred by Smithy’s earlier comment that Carl had got fed up of waiting for them to catch him and had instigated that elaborate charade in the woods simply so they could finally arrest him. Carl had certainly seemed remorseful, claiming how the impulse to kill was completely out of his control, that it wasn’t him but the bad Carl who did it and he just wanted it all to stop.
He shoved these thoughts aside. This was his big moment and he was going to enjoy it, he’d certainly earned it. But as punishment he had told Smithy to remain at Carl’s house and continue pulling up the floorboards in his cellar to see if it concealed any more grisly relics.
“Well done Leonidas,” said the Deputy Chief Constable of the Merseyside Police, who was waiting to shake his hand outside his office. “I knew you’d get there in the end.”
Leonidas’s smile faltered slightly at this statement. Their DCC was renowned for accompanying every compliment with an insult, he’d got it down to a fine art.
“This is high profile,” continued the DCC. “It means big things for your career Leonidas.”
“Thank you Sir.”
“Finally the public can breathe a sigh of relief that The Make-Up Killer is under lock and key. I understand you’ve got entangled with an investigation involving Manchester thanks to this case?”
“Yes Sir. The last victim was dumped on top of Estelle Law’s grave, mother to the infamous Law siblings.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of them. Have there been any updates? We don’t want anything tarnishing The Make-Up Killer case.”
“Jez Law, her youngest surviving son has been charged with her murder. He’s been remanded to HMP Manchester.”
“What is it Leonidas?” he said when he planted his hands on his hips and chewed his lip.
“Something doesn’t sit right with me about the Amber Maguire case Sir. Both Jez Law and Mikey Maguire have been charged but something’s all off about it. That could mean there’s something wrong with the Estelle Law case too.”
“Really? Well I insist on knowing what that is at once. Let’s talk in your office. I will allow nothing to risk compromising one of our own investigations.”
“Thank you Sir,” replied Leonidas. It would be good to get his troubles off his chest.
“Hello?” said Shane into his phone.
As he listened he leaned back in his very comfortable leather chair and gazed out at the city below. He’d taken over Andrew Clayton’s old offices in the uber-modern massive glass and steel tower block in Liverpool City Centre. He loved this city, which he ran on behalf of Mikey and Jez of course. He’d come a long way from that shitty Nottingham council estate. He wasn’t so high and mighty now that he couldn’t appreciate how proud his mum was of him, she told him every time she saw him. He’d moved her and his dad into the city and they lived in a lovely sprawling bungalow in the suburbs, no bills and no worries for the first time in their hard lives.
“Thanks for letting me know,” he said before hanging up. He looked to Beckett, the tall serious man who was his personal bodyguard and head of security. “I’m heading to Manchester, I need to speak to Jules personally. We leave immediately.”
“Yes Boss,” he said obediently. “I’ll have Thomson bring the car round.”
Shane headed downstairs to his car, Beckett following. Together they strode through the marble reception that had received a makeover since Clayton’s day and was now graced by a chandelier and fountain. He liked to make a lasting impression on his visitors. Everyone who worked security in the building answered only to him, although other businesses occupied some of the units. That way he controlled all access to the building.
He stepped outside onto the busy pavement, aiming for the silver Jaguar waiting at the kerb, his driver already inside. Shane hesitated, allowing a pretty young mother pushing a pram to walk past with a gracious sweep of his hand. She smiled at him as she passed by.
The next thing Shane knew he’d been thrown onto his back and he was staring up at the sky, agony in his chest. Despite the pain he found himself mesmerised by the view. The clouds were moving so rapidly it made it look like his building was swaying. The effect made him dizzy. His body jumped, more fire erupting in his torso as something else slammed into his chest.
“Boss,” cried Beckett, using the car as cover to drag him out of the line of fire while more bullets struck the pavement. All around them passers-by screamed and ran in all directions. Despite what had happened, Shane found himself hoping the young mum and her baby were okay and that they weren’t afraid.
“Boss, you okay?” cried Beckett.
Finally Shane managed to shake off the shock. He tore open his shirt and ripped open the bullet proof vest encircling his torso, enabling him to take in a deep breath. The pain was so bad that he expected to see blood but instead there were two livid bruises on his bare chest.
“Jesus, these things really work,” he gasped.
Beckett flashed a rare smile. “You really shit me up there Boss.”
“I shit myself up,” he replied, slowly sitting up. “You okay?”
“Fine Boss. The projectiles came down at an angle. There’s a sniper in one of the surrounding buildings.”
“Bastard. Let’s get in the car, it’s bullet proof.”
Beckett opened the rear door for Shane and he slid inside, careful to keep his head below the window.
“We need to get to Manchester ASAP,” he told his men.
Thomson nodded and put his foot down.
They’d already vanished into the flow of traffic before the police had even arrived.
CHAPTER 28
“Squirt, thank God,” said Jules, flinging her arms around Shane’s neck when he walked into The Manor.
Shane had got his men to drop him near a garage he owned so he could drive himself here, not wanting them to know the location of their operation’s headquarters. He’d called on ahead to let her know what had happened.
“You okay?” she added.
“Fine,” he grimaced as she squashed his bruises. “I was wearing a vest.”
“I take it you mean Kevlar and not string?”
He grinned. Jules always made him laugh. “Yeah. I always do whenever there’s trouble.”
“Thank Christ you’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” she said, taking his face between her hands. “It’s lucky the sniper went for your chest and not your head.”
“Believe me I’ve not stopped thinking that the entire journey here.”
“Well you’re staying here until this shit is put to bed. I’m not taking any chances.”
Shane was touched by how concerned she was about his welfare. “I can stay a couple of days, everything’s quiet in Liverpool.”
“That’s good.”
“It’ll be great to have you around again,” smiled Mark, shaking his hand. He’d helped train him up and the two were the best of friends.
“You needing me to hold your hand old man?” he grinned.
/> “No matter how powerful you become you’ll always be a cheeky little shit,” he said good-naturedly. Mark’s expression turned serious. “Could this have been Declan?”
“Possibly,” replied Jules. “But could that dick have pulled off a shot like that?”
“He trained with Irish paramilitary,” said Mark. “He could. And it was smart attacking Shane. If he’d been taken out we would probably have lost Liverpool, significantly weakening us.”
“It looks like Declan’s got a lot smarter since he was kicked out of the family,” said Shane.
“That’s if it was him,” said Jules. “We don’t know for sure yet. Shane, get onto your Scouse police contacts and find out if they’ve any leads.”
“Will do but that’s why I was getting into my car in the first place, to come down here. I have the DCC of the Merseyside Police on the payroll.”
Jules beamed with pride. “Our little boy’s all grown up.”
“He spoke to some DI who just caught The Make-Up Killer. What was his name? It was like a lion.”
“Leonidas?” said Jules.
“That’s him.”
“He was the one who came to tell Jez and I about Estelle’s death.”
“So I believe. He spoke to his DCC because he’s worried Dwyer’s up to something dodgy and the DCC agrees. Ray McGinnis says he spoke to both Mikey and Jez and they both told him to kill Amber but he said why would he need to speak to both of them over the phone? Fortunately Leonidas has no idea his DCC is in my pocket.”
“It’s a shame he’s not DCC of the Greater Manchester Police,” said Jules. “Then he might be able to do something about it. But this is good news. If one executive officer thinks something dodgy’s going on then maybe someone else will too.”
“The DCC told Leonidas to come back to Manchester on the pretence of working on Estelle’s case. He’s hoping to find out more. Apparently this Leonidas is like a bloodhound who never gives up once he’s got the scent. If there’s something to find he’ll find it.”
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