Unquiet Souls: a DI Gus McGuire case

by Mistry, Liz

  As Alice moved away from the door, Gus saw a man’s body prone on the floor with blood pooling under his head from what appeared to be a gunshot wound.

  Taking a hard swallow as his dad knelt beside the body, Gus turned to Alice. ‘Wendy Horan’s husband?’

  Alice nodded and pointed behind to the second body that lay on the floor near the settee. ‘And there’s Wendy.’

  Gus sighed and looked back at his dad, whose bulky frame was struggling to stand. Extending a helping hand, Gus smiled as his dad grunted to a vertical position.

  Still looking down at the body Fergus began. ‘Hmm, cause of death – gunshot wound to the head. Rigor’s not set in, so fairly recent. From the position of the body and the slight bruising around the neck I’d say he was grabbed by the throat from behind and shot by a right handed person, then dropped on the floor.’ He moved over to the second body and grimaced. ‘The perpetrator probably almost immediately swivelled and shot her in the stomach. She didn’t die immediately like her husband, but bled out.’ He shrugged probably was unconscious within a few minutes from loss of blood. I’ll know more after the PM, which I’ll do this afternoon.’

  He turned to the SOCO who hovered nearby. ‘You can bag them up now, Charlie...’ Then, he turned concerned eyes on Gus. ‘Do yourself a favour laddie and send someone else to the PM.’

  Gus had always had trouble at PMs. But, he made a point of attending them in person. He saw it as part of his duty to the victims he represented. However, on this occasion he knew his dad was probably right. Besides which, he had a psycho to catch. ‘OK, but when you get the bullets I want them expedited to ballistics– Oh and get that time of death narrowed down, too.’

  Gus and Alice left the Horan house and walked towards their car.

  ‘If The Matchmaker is Wentworth we need to pin down his movements. Compo texted saying he was with Nancy last night, but that doesn’t let him off the hook – yet. He could have done it later. We need TOD to rule him in or out,’ said Gus.

  Opening the driver’s door Alice looked across the car roof at Gus. ‘Should we let Nancy know our suspicions?’

  Gus shook his head ‘No, not yet. We need more on him. A positive ID from Jamal would be good. I’m going to start surveillance on him.’

  ‘Tricky without letting Nance know first.’

  ‘Yeah, but if we’ve got it wrong, the buck stays with me.’ He rapped his fingers on the roof. ‘Let’s get back to The Fort and check out the email.’

  Chapter 106

  Sunday 10am

  It wasn’t the screeching of the roller doors that wakened Molly but an altogether different sound. At first she thought she was dreaming and lay still under the duvet reluctant to waken up and find herself still in the freezing cold warehouse. Then the noise got louder and more insistent. Maybe it was the other kids from the other room through the pipes. She shook her head. No, they weren’t babies and this was definitely crying… a baby crying.

  As realisation flooded through her she sat bolt upright and peered round the room. Where was the sound coming from? Then, in an instant she was out of the bed, ignoring the cold concrete on her bare feet as she stumbled towards the cardboard box that lay in the middle of the room, a couple of carrier bags beside it. Instantly, she was on her knees and peering into the box. Seeing the small fists pumping the air and the red screwed-up face of her baby brother sent a balloon of despair into her chest. Sniffling back her tears she lifted the small squirming body wrapped in unfamiliar blankets and snuggled him tightly to her chest. Rocking back and forth, the squirming bundle in her arms, she wept uncontrollably.

  When the baby’s cries had reduced to mild hiccupping whimpers, she held him away from her. His small face puckered at the sudden lack of body contact and he started to cry again. Gently, she laid him back in the box and leaned over to open the carrier bags. Newborn nappies, baby wipes, a couple of little baby suits and some baby bottles filled with what she assumed was sterilised water and small tubs with measured milk powder inside. A voice boomed into the quiet. ‘It’s your job now to look after your brother. Heat the water in the mini microwave, add the powder and feed him.’ Molly recognised the voice as that of her pretend dad. Her bottom lip curled up in disgust and, heart thudding, she glanced round the room and saw a small microwave on the floor next to the electric fan heater. She sighed in relief. At least she’d be able to feed Sam. As she looked down at the whimpering child she felt less lonely. ‘Don’t worry, Sam. I’m here now. I’ll look after you.’ And she busied herself heating up milk for him.

  Chapter 107

  Sunday 11am

  The atmosphere in the car on the way back to The Fort was low and the mood hadn’t dispelled by the time they arrived. DCI Wentworth had left an acidly worded letter of complaint against Compo, which Gus immediately deposited in the bin. Compo meanwhile looked contrite until Gus nudged him good naturedly. ‘Don’t let the bastards get you down, Comps. He’s an arse. Now let’s watch the Matchmaker’s latest recording.’

  Looking relieved, Compo turned back to his computer and set up the footage to run on the large white projection screen at the front of the room. ‘It’s very short this time –

  The image was dark, with falling snow obliterating most of the shot. Then it focussed in on the profile of the two officers sitting in their car, before falling to a sheet of white as the camera presumably pointed downwards. Seconds later, it panned up again showing the driver’s window sliding down, before zooming onto the driver’s face. The officer looked surprised and his lips moved as she spoke.

  Compo paused the footage and fiddled with the controls. ‘Seems we’ve no sound I’m afraid,’ he said pressing play again. ‘Wonder why?’

  Immediately, the driver’s expression changed and a spurt of thick liquid spattered over the dashboard. Her head ricocheted backwards before slumping towards her chest. The second officer, who’d been half swivelled round in his seat, reached over to his partner, but almost immediately, he too ricocheted back and a floret of red bloomed on his chest.

  The camera panned up and settled on the car clock, which read 22:15. After a slight jolt the camera followed a pristine snow carpet up to the Horan’s front door. Gus watched as a gloved hand extended in front of the camera and pressed the doorbell. As Gus’s team watched, Paul Horan opened the door slightly, with only his head visible. His face registered surprise, probably at the camera, and it seemed like he tried to slam the door closed. Then, Horan appeared to reconsider and allowed the door to open fully and the cameraman stepped inside and followed Horan. He backed into the living room. The camera briefly panned to the wall clock and hesitated there for a few seconds. It read 22:20. Gus saw Wendy Horan jump to her feet and move towards her husband. However, as she moved, a sudden spurt of blood came from Paul Horan’s head and he fell to the floor. Almost immediately a second shot hit Wendy in the chest sending her to the floor, too.

  For Gus it felt like he was watching a horror movie in slow motion. The cameraman’s actions were almost carelessly casual; as if the lives of the two officers and of the Horans were worthless. Gus glanced at his team and saw that each and every one of them had their eyes, shining with horror, glued to the screen. It would be his job to harness their shock and transform it into determination to catch this bastard.

  The camera operator retraced his steps into the hallway and proceeded upstairs. Entering the room where Beth Graves lay, he zoomed so close to her sleeping face, that Gus could see a globule of moisture in the corner of her mouth. Then, from the angle of the camera, it appeared he’d laid it down on the bed. When he picked it up again a few seconds later and zoomed onto Beth, Gus saw the decompressed syringe hooked up to her arm. Gus dreaded to think what the syringe had contained but he knew the hospital would analyse it.

  The Matchmaker, for by now Gus felt sure that’s who it was, backed from Beth’s room and entered the one where baby Sam slept. Without preamble, the cameraman focussed momentarily on the sleeping child then he l
ifted him and left the room. Abruptly the footage stopped and for long seconds nobody in the investigation room spoke.

  Then Gus turned to Compo. ‘Get this enhanced as clearly as you can. Anything we can get on this man the better. See if some sort of gait analysis will give us anything on his height. Get a lip reader in to see if we can find out what the officers or Horan said to him.’ He turned to Sampson. ‘CCTV footage from around 9 to 11pm last night, Sampson.’

  Sampson nodded and scurried over to his desk. His movement seemed to galvanise the rest of the team who immediately sprung to action.

  Gus looked up as Sadia came in. She stood leaning against the door her eyes locked on Gus, a manila folder hugged tightly to her chest by whitened knuckles.

  ‘You ok, Sadia?’

  She nodded and stepped towards him. ‘Just been to Jamal with the rest of the photos.’ She bit her lip.

  Impatient, Gus waved his hand in a get on with it gesture. ‘And?’

  She swallowed and handed him the folder. ‘He IDed the top photo. Was very insistent too.’

  Gus glanced at her before taking the folder. Her eyes flashed with a mixture of what looked like excitement and dread. Gus felt his heartbeat increase in direct response. He flicked open the folder. His eyes widened and he glanced again at Sadia. ‘And he was 100 per cent sure?’

  Sadia held his gaze and gave an abrupt nod.

  Shit, this was much worse than he’d anticipated. He needed complete lockdown on this till they were sure. He punched his fist lightly on his thigh and sat down at his desk. Sadia remained standing in front of his desk. Wordlessly he gestured to the chair opposite him and Sadia almost fell into it. ‘Let me think for a minute,’ was all he said and he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  After ten tense minutes, he reopened his eyes, pushed himself from his chair and cleared his throat loudly out attract everyone’s attention. In a serious tone he said ‘First up, I need to clear the room of all personnel not on my immediate team.’

  The officers in question looked at each other, then with a few moans about making his mind up whether or not he needed them, they left the room.

  Gus glanced round at his team. Alice looked at him expectantly from her desk. Sampson, near the coffee machine, stood uncertainly, a mug in his hand and Compo continued working on his computer as if Gus hadn’t spoken. With a rueful smile, Gus acknowledged to himself that he quite probably hadn’t heard him. Seeing Gus looking at Compo, Alice got up and pulled one of his headphones from Compo’s ear. ‘Boss man wants a word, Comps.’ Quickly straightening himself, Compo pressed a key and then removed the headphone from his other ear.

  ‘I’m not going to give a big preamble about discretion and secrecy. You’re all on this team because I trust you. So here goes.’ He moved to the centre of the room. ‘The picture I’m about to show you is the person Jamal IDed as being The Matchmaker.’ He waited to let his words sink in and then turned the photo so they could all see it. The resultant gasps were expected. This was momentous, so Gus let them have time to process the implications. When silence fell across the room he continued. ‘Our investigation from here on in will be scrupulous and detailed, but there will be no leaks.’ He scanned the shocked faces before him. ‘I need a complete background on him. Compo, can you do that without instigating any red flags?’

  Uncharacteristically motionless, Compo gave an abrupt nod. As he leaned towards his computer, it broke the silence with a resounding ping. He glanced at the screen and, momentary inertia banished, jumped up, punching the air. ‘Got a hit, Gus. Got a fucking hit on Molly’s whereabouts.’

  Immediately the entire team rushed over to Compo. He stabbed the screen with his stubby nail-bitten finger. ‘There, fucking there! Look there’s South Square café, there’s the viaduct and there is Prospect Mills.’ Compo pressed a key and a series of lines and trajectories showed on the screen. This is her view from the mill. I reckon she’s on the top floor probably third window along.’

  Gus gripped Compo’s shoulder tightly. ‘Well done, Compo, bloody well done.’

  He turned to his team. ‘Right Sampson, you’re going to the PMs. Alice you’re coordinating back-up and firearms unit from here. Get Chalmers here and update her. We need to track our prime suspect. Meanwhile, Sadia and I will head over to Prospect Mills. Get things moving ASAP. We’ve no time to spare and we don’t know exactly how many men he has under him.’

  He’d just finished speaking when the door burst open. Beth and Alex Graves burst in. ‘I demand an update now!’

  Alex was grubby and distraught, Beth pale and drawn. Gus had no time for distractions so he turned to Sampson and spoke quietly. ‘Keep him away from us without revealing anything, before you go to the PM.’

  Sampson nodded and moved over to lead the Graves to a seat in the room. Leaving Alice and Compo to help Sampson, Gus and Sadia sidled out of the room and ran to the car park.

  Chapter 108

  Sunday 11:15am

  Sleeting snow and pile-ups were not conducive to getting anywhere very fast. Gus sat on the edge of his seat peering through the windscreen where snow splatted like prehistoric birds shitting in unison. Then, a loud boom reverberated throughout Rhodesway. Gus slammed the palm of his hand on the dashboard and cursed. Sadia started, but was too scared to take her eyes off the treacherous road. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Did you hear that bang?’

  ‘Yeah, rotten day for a wedding, if you ask me, but you got to hand it to them. They’re not letting the weather get in the way of their celebrations.’

  Gus snorted, blue eyes flashing. ‘That’s not wedding fireworks, Sadia. There was only one bang. Give it a minute and there’ll be one more bang and then nothing. It’s the bloody Bradford drug lords letting their runners know the drugs have been delivered.’ He ran his fingers through his dreads, ‘which means, as it does twice a month every fucking month, CID will be running around like Pomeranians with hair straighteners stuck up their arses trying to locate the big ones. Which means, in turn, that our back-up will be severely diminished because that idiot, Hussain won’t prioritise our operation over his.’

  Sadia’s mouth made an almost perfect O.

  With a quick glance at her, Gus said ‘I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that about your old man. That’s not good.’

  Sadia shrugged and when she spoke her tone was bitter. ‘I’ve lived with him for twenty-five years. You don’t think I know how stubborn and focussed he is? He can’t ever deviate from a previously determined course of action. Surprised he’s lasted so long in the job really. Oh no. Shit!’

  At her last words Gus directed his gaze back to the road and saw a huge, unpassable gritter turn into the road in front of them.

  He flung up his hands. ‘Would you believe it? Now they bloody grit!’

  Sadia clenched her teeth and turned off down an even narrower side street. ‘I’ll cut down here and, fingers crossed, we’ll be able to get onto Thornton Road at the bottom.’

  Half an hour later, they approached the huge mill on their left. Despite being set back off the road it dominated the landscape, looming threateningly over the pub on the main road in front of it.

  Sadia drove past the entrance to the Mill’s pot-holed car park as Gus peered up at the huge blank windows. ‘What’s the plan?’

  Gus gestured ahead. ‘Pull into the South Square car park and we’ll walk back. We’ll see if the pub’s open and if they’ve noticed owt.’

  The Flappit Hen pub was dully lit and, despite the roaring fire in the grate, the air held a distinct chill that was matched by the frosty look the barman gave them on their entrance. He paused half-way through a lacklustre polish of the bar and straightened up to his full five foot three inches. When he crossed his over-worked tattooed biceps over his chest, Gus was reminded of Popeye. The barman’s bald head glistened slightly in the overhead lights and his frown was venomous as his gaze shifted between the two police officers.

  Gus smiled. ‘I’d like t
o speak to the manager, please.’

  ‘Why?’ The other man turned his sneering gaze to Gus and tensed his bicep making the red swastika symbol on it dance.

  Gus inclined his head. ‘Nice ink, crap sentiment.’

  The small man made a growling sound in his chest. ‘You don’t like it, you know what you can do?’

  Gus grinned at Sadia whose face had tightened in anger. He shrugged. ‘Oh, suppose it’ll be something dully predictable as befits someone of your limited capacities like ‘piss off back to your own country’. Am I right?’

  Face twisted in rage the other man pressed his knuckles down hard on the bar and made as if to vault over, when a sharp voice preceded a taller man through the door. ‘What have I told you about causing trouble, Jemmy? If you can’t get on with my customers, you’ll have to look elsewhere for a job, brother-in-law or not, ok?’ When Jemmy nodded, his face still distorted in anger, the taller man jerked his head through the door. ‘Take a fucking break.’

  When Jemmy had sidled away Gus looked at the other man. ‘Nice staff you have. Welcoming.’

  The manager shrugged and offered his hand. ‘Laurence Carmichael. He’s not my first choice of employee, but family is family. What can I do for you? I take it you’re on duty?’ and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Gus took out his warrant card. ‘Yeah that’s right. DI McGuire and DC Hussain. Wanted to ask if you’ve noticed any activity in the Mill behind the pub recently.’

  Laurence snorted. ‘There’s always activity there. If it isn’t kids pratting about, it’s druggies, or teenagers shagging. Always summat going on back there.’

  Sadia pulled herself onto a bar stool. ‘Inside the Mill or just in the car park?’

  ‘Both really. Usually in the car park but they sometimes manage to get into the ground floor. Can’t get any higher up though. It’s all blocked off and the lifts don’t work.’

  ‘Mind if we have a look from one of your upstairs windows?’