A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2)

by Edward Holmes

  I told her to get a hotel room in the city for a couple of days so I could do some investigating into what had happened. She however wanted to get back home, no matter what the threat, so she was close in case her son needed her. I had to respect her for that and agreed to come to her house when I had something. Sheila also gave me her phone number in case I needed anything or if there was a break in the case.

  She left me with a lot of hearsay and very little in the way of leads to go on. Other than her word there was nothing to suggest that her son had not killed the Boulton kid. He was part of a crew, got picked up by a police raid and had apparently admitted he did it. They had discounted his mother’s alibi for him because they had an unforced confession and what mother wouldn’t lie for her child? If I’d been working it I would have sewn it up open and shut, without much thought at all. However that wasn’t what I was there to do; not now.

  I didn’t need Harris’s expertise to do a quick search for the Joey Boulton killing. He was a known member of the Rakspeath crew who had gone into Elsworth territory to rob local drug dealers or out of some other issue. Opening fire on the street; he had wounded a man called Frankie Peters. Peters wasn’t found at the scene but his DNA was in the system since he had spent two three-month terms inside. The specialist firearms squad for Liverpool, known as the Matrix taskforce, had raided his home, only to find that the man had not fired a weapon recently and was barely able to stay awake after a bullet had shattered his femur resulting in a lot of blood loss. They ascertained that he could not have fired the kill shot due to the entry wound.

  There was no further information in the news about the calibre of weapon that had killed Boulton, nor was there anything about whether the gun that had been picked up linked Tommy to the scene. Everything I read said the shot had been perfect, right through the back of the head. Reading from newspaper reports was not ideal; they got some of the important stuff but nothing the police didn’t want to be released.

  I needed a way into finding out about what had happened and reading the file they had on Tommy. It pained me to do it but I made a call to my old boss, Detective Chief Inspector Simon Jones, “Hello Simon.”

  “I knew it was going to be one of those sort of days John. What the hell do you want?” Simon replied with anger in his voice, I couldn’t tell if it was feigned or real on the phone, considering we had parted on bad terms.

  I was a little upset over what had happened but Simon had railroaded me at the end and had got egg on his ample face when I’d solved a case that I wasn’t even on; resulting in the arrest of a double killer who was in the process of taking a third life before I intervened. We’d been good friends before that but he had needed to play the politics game then and still did; something I was happy to be away from, “I was just wondering if the category C squad needed some help.”

  Simon laughed, “Is it going that far south for you already, John? I didn’t think that you would need work so quickly or you bored already?”

  “I just know how your oldie squad tends to struggle and I thought it would be easier for you to clear a couple of cases if you got a detective who knows his stuff,” the category C squad was a bunch of retired detectives they got to work active murders. The unit is cheaper than a usual detective department and in Manchester had halved the time it took to solve an active homicide case. The civilian investigators may not get the difficult category murders but they filled a gap and took some of the strain off the other detectives. I felt strange asking to be on the detail considering I was barely off the force; technically off on stress leave. I could say it was light work to ease me back in and be cleared but I didn’t want the hassle.

  “As far as I know they’re clearing their quota. If you want to come in and help out for free I’m sure they could do with the manpower. You know as well as I do that they need every pair of hands they can get to close open murders,” Simon said begrudgingly.

  “So you’re fine with me coming back in?”

  There was a silence on the line before Simon replied, “I need you to come in and fill out some paperwork for me on the Hart case anyway.”

  I winced at the thought of what had happened in Hollingswood and rubbed my eyes, “Ok well I’ll be in later today if you’re going to be about.”

  “Unless I get a big one I’ll be here all morning.”

  “Let me guess out for lunch.”

  “You know me far too well.”

  The line went dead and I was left staring at Harris. I still considered him a boy and it took a good five minutes for him to realise I was looking at him. Taking off his headset he tilted his head, “You got something?”

  “Yeah I need some information on gangs in Liverpool.”

  “What for?” he said with a yawn.

  I stared back at him, “For the woman who came in here like an hour ago. To try and help her son.”

  “There was someone in here?” he said with a look of complete confusion on his face.

  I shook my head; if the boy wasn’t so good for work on the computer I’d cut him loose. Still he made me smile, “Can you just get me some info on the Elsworth Warriors and Rakspeath crew all I need is the cliff notes. I don’t need you getting into the gang taskforce or anything.”

  “Hell you could do that yourself. Where’s the fun for me?”

  “It’ll come, it’ll come. I’ve got to go out and do some proper work H. I’ll be back later if you need anything.”

  I was nearly out of the door when he called me back, “Yo Harper, get me some lunch. I fancy a takeaway or something warm; soup and a sandwich from the bakery.”

  Chapter Four

  It was only a short drive to the new police office, which I happily took in my Jaguar XJ6. Since the win at the bookmakers I’d bought two other cars and, considering the lack of secure parking near the office, it was a rarity I brought in the Jag but I liked to start the week in my old car. It felt strange to put my car one the visitors’ car park especially when the guard on duty waved to me like I’d never been away.

  People had long memories in this place and I walked through like I still belonged. They knew all too well that I was playing the system; for a certain generation of police it was the done thing. Unlike a lot of them I wasn’t close to the resident doctor; I did however have past history with post-traumatic stress due to my time in Ireland, so it didn’t take much for them to pension me off.

  Walking the corridors, I was questioning my decision for leaving in the first place. That was until I saw Simon coming towards me and all my bitterness of the past couple of months came back. He was difficult to miss, considering he was grossly overweight and took up most of the corridor. I clenched my jaw tight and tried to smile through the anger I was feeling towards him. One of my problems is being blessed with a great memory and that leaves me remembering the little things. Grudges are something I don’t let go of; I remember my enemies and any slight they have brought against me and in front of me right then was a person I had a real issue with. Years of working together had made me think that we were close but the realisation that I was just another detective beneath him had come too late.

  He spotted me and raised the file he was carrying in acknowledgement; I nodded in return, all the time doing my best not to call him every name under the sun. He didn’t stop as he was talking to someone else who was struggling to stand side by side with him in the narrow passageway so I went to his office, passing my old desk and saying hello to a couple of people. I sat down and put my feet on the wooden desk in an act of petty defiance. I knew it was stupid but my attitude to the man was of such contempt that I didn’t care.

  “Get your feet off the man’s desk, John,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

  I did as ordered and turned to see Tara Nagle, one of the few people who still had a soft spot for me. I liked her for that and owed her time and time again. She was good police officer, which also helped. Standing up, I opened my arms wide, “My darling, how are you?”

 
Tara gave me a cold stare till I dropped my hands, “What are you doing here, John?”

  “Just helping out, Tara; Simon had some papers for me to sign and there might be some work for me down with the oldies,” I said with a smile on my face.

  “Don’t be wasting that brain of yours, John,” she replied, finally shaking my hand, “Even working with C category unit is beneath you. We both know you can be hard work but you are stronger in mind and body than everyone out there. We need you back, John; solving the simple murders with the civilians might keep you ticking over but we both know you prefer the stone cold whodunnits.”

  It was nice of her to say it and considering how undermanned and underfunded they were I could believe the sentiment, but for the time being I needed to be out of that office. It seemed a little hypocritical considering I was going back to work there on another case but I had to use everything I had at my disposal to help clear Tom Morrison. If I had to put my personal differences to one side for that I could live with it.

  “Always nice to feel appreciated, my friend. I am however enjoying being my own boss, setting my own hours and the like. You forget, Tara, I’m a civilian now. To be brutally honest, I need the time away from Si.”

  “I can understand that; he’s been suffering since you left. He enjoyed the media attention from you rescuing that girl but after that the higher-ups have been on him. That triple murder case went sour and losing you made things very difficult for us here,” Tara explained as she sat on the desk, I returned to the chair, looking up at her.

  “Not my problem; he should never have sent me there if he didn’t want it solved,” I said before yawning. I was happy with my final case, in so far that I solved it with the minimum of loose ends.

  I saw Tara tense and she made to stand up; still respecting the authority of Simon Jones. I didn’t bother turning around as the DCI came in and moved around to the desk. Three people in such a confined space, especially considering the sheer size of Jones, was not comfortable. Tara made her excuses and left me with my old boss.

  “Here are those papers I need you to fill in and here is a temporary pass for you to get into the building and onto the database. I’ve told the boys down in the C unit that you’ll lend your expertise to them, so they’re expecting you in Chadderton when you get the time. They’ve got a couple of things on their plate at the moment they’d like you to turn your eye to since you’re fresh out of here,” Simon said with an edge in his voice over the last sentence. It seemed there was still some bitterness there.

  “Thanks,” I said taking the folder from him, pocketing the things I needed and quickly scrawling my signature on the papers he wanted sorting. It seemed almost civil again, forgetting that the tone in which he had spoken to me before.

  “John, you thought about just coming back full time? It’s only been a couple of months out and we still haven’t replaced you.”

  I saw the pained look on his face at having to ask that question and did my best not to smile; I still did but at least I tried not to, “I thought you had loads of young and up-and-coming superstars who would leap at the chance of replacing me. You said as much before I left.”

  Simon fidgeted uncomfortably; the sturdy leather desk chair creaked beneath his weight. He sighed gently, “It seems that joining CID isn’t the most attractive of oppositions.”

  Still smiling I replied, “You’d think with the unsociable hours and lack of overtime you’d have people knocking down the doors trying to get in here. Don’t worry I don’t think it’s your fault; last I heard there is something like a five thousand man shortfall or something as ridiculous as that.”

  That didn’t seem to placate him judging by the look on his face but he nodded, “You’re right we aren’t getting the staff in at the moment. Which is why I’m asking you back. If you can keep up the form you showed in that matter in Hollingswood then I’ll happily have you in this unit.”

  It was a backhanded compliment but I had the good grace to keep smiling, “I’ll think on it. Who knows, maybe working on an easy case will give me that hunger back. Thanks again for the clearance,” I stood slapping the folder on the back of the chair.

  “Why do I get a funny feeling that is the only reason you came here?”

  “Because even after all these years, you’ve managed to remember a few things off good coppers like me.”

  Chapter Five

  After the shooting in Elsworth the police of Liverpool had been on high alert. They mounted more patrols of the area of trouble, endeavouring to stop any retaliation for the murder of Joey Boulton. The increased number of police cars on the street ensured that there was a complete lack of young lads hanging about. That was until the cars had gone out of sight and then the dealers were back on the corners or waiting in their own vehicles.

  With the colder nights creeping in and the prospect of more rain, the more affluent of dealers sat in their cars. Their stashes were located nearby so that if they were to be pulled over or searched there were no grounds to be arrested. The safety that the cars provided them made some of the dealers more fearless and much more willing to stay out later.

  A police patrol passed down one of the main streets of Elsworth, the two officers noting a dark blue old Clio parked on a side street, the interior lights on. Both men were tired and bored of the shift work but thankful for the overtime. They knew with Christmas around the corner that the money would be well received by their spouses, which meant it would be well spent. Trust the police to find a silver lining in the killing of a young man, but it was their job and laughing at death made it easier to take, especially when you were used to it as these two men could attest.

  Officers were taught to know the locals and in turn the local dealers, hustlers and general yobs knew the officers by sight. These two were known for being fair but at the end of the month if they had not managed their target number of arrests they would be brutal on anyone they caught. It was a good game considering everyone knew it and once you had been caught in possession or breaking an anti-social behaviour order by them before the turn of the month, most caught on.

  It was still early to mid-December so no one was in danger of being arrested for petty issues but they must still do their job. Both men knew that their good fortune with overtime would not last; the force did not have the budget nor the inclination to keep police on the streets at such hours other than cursory sweeps. Before, they would have tried to make an increase in arrests at that time to ensure that there would be more hours but that was not how the system worked and their experience taught them to simply do the job they were tasked with. So they made another circuit of the area, noting four suspect cars and pulling over to have a genial discussion with one such occupied automobile. The two young men inside, who smelt strongly of tobacco, agreed to move on and after much show of putting on their seatbelts, they did so. This brought smiles to both parties as they separated and the policemen continued their patrol.

  Officer Archie Cramer leant on the door in the patrol car and sighed, “This is dragging on Mike.”

  “I guess we’re doing our job properly then,” Sergeant Mike Blackwood replied. He was dying for a cigarette but could not light up in the car so was sterner than he had been at the start of their shift.

  “That’ll be the day. How about we do another pass of the Moran estate and then go get some coffee from the drive thru and stretch our legs?”

  The sergeant nodded, “Let’s give it two, ok?”

  “Fine you Kopite prick but if I end up pissing in the car it’s on your head.”

  They laughed and chatted about the most contentious subject they knew: football. Archie, being an Everton fan, took great delight in poking fun at his boss, whose own team Liverpool where languishing behind the blue team of Merseyside. Mike was quick to rise to it though and called the younger man every word he knew for bitter when they drove past the blue Clio again.

  Archie wagged his finger at the two occupants and they continued on; joking about t
he football listing and the hopeful signings their respective teams would make in the winter transfer window. That conversation lasted for more than fifteen minutes; enough time for them to make it all the way back to the same parked car.

  The two officers approached the car from the front this time. The Clio was dirty and had a number of dents in it. The driver’s side wheel was dangerously bald and the others looked low and the skirting around the car was rusting with age and the sea air. It was parked beneath a smashed light; no surprise considering most of the street was in darkness due to the same issue.

  The two men inside had their heads tilted towards each other as if listening to something earnestly or talking to each other. Mike pulled the police car up in front of them and noted how neither man flinched away.

  “These two think they’re hardnuts ignoring you boss. Let’s see how they feel when I book them for driving that piece of scrap,” Archie Kramer said putting on his hat and picking up his clipboard from in between his legs.

  Mike nodded but with a concentrated look on his face; something was not sitting right with him and he remained in the car, his body ready in case they tried to make a run for it and he had to give pursuit.

  Zipping up his jacket, Archie braced himself against the cold night air and the slight drizzle that was falling on him. He walked over to the car with the authority his position commanded, stepping on broken glass as he approached the passenger side window, “Ok boys, fun is over. Let’s see your license and proof of insurance please.”

  The police officer had been looking at his clipboard as he approached and it was only when he looked up at the passengers did he realise that they were both deceased. He called over to Mike and the two of them were classed as the first responders. Brad Walsh and Steven Gerald had both been killed by gunshots. Two had hit the passenger, Gerald, three had ended up in the body of Walsh and a sixth bullet had passed through the vehicle without hitting either man and had smashed through the window and embedded itself in the wall next to the car.