Head of the Firm

by Caz Finlay

  Grace had so many questions, as she was sure Michael did, but now wasn’t the time.

  ‘I have to go and formally identify his body,’ he said when he finally lifted his head from her shoulder. ‘I was waiting for you. Will you come with me?’

  ‘Of course. I can do it if you’d rather not see him like that.’

  ‘No, it has to be me. I have to see him.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

  Michael sat in Grace’s car in silence as she drove them to the police station. She searched for words of comfort that might soothe him but realised there were none. She had loved Paul too. He had been a part of her life for as long as she’d known Michael, but in recent years she had come to love him like a son. She wondered how his mother Cheryl must be feeling. Grace had never had a lot of time for Michael’s first wife, but she felt nothing but sympathy for her right now. And Connor. God, how we would her ever get through this? He and Paul were inseparable. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.

  ‘Have you spoken to Cheryl?’ Grace asked him.

  ‘Yeah. She’s coming back as soon as she can.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Grace replied. Cheryl had been in Turkey for the past three months with her new boyfriend.

  ‘I had to tell her,’ he said as he choked back a sob. ‘The police couldn’t get hold of her, so I told them I’d do it.’ He shook his head. ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, Grace. Telling her our son was dead.’

  Grace gave his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry, Michael,’ she said, because there was nothing else to say.

  ‘I know.’

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Grace had held tightly onto Michael’s arm as he formally identified Paul’s body. He had simply stood there and nodded. Anyone who didn’t know him well would no doubt have thought him cold and emotionless. But Grace could feel the tension in his arms and shoulders. His jaw was clenched so tightly, he could barely speak. Suddenly, he no longer felt like flesh and blood, but solid iron.

  Aware of a figure approaching them, Grace turned, while Michael continued staring at his son.

  ‘I’m DI Moss,’ the intruder said softly. ‘My team will be leading the investigation.’

  At this, Michael turned around too and stared at the woman who had interrupted them.

  ‘I’d like to offer my deepest condolences to you both,’ she said as she pushed a stray strand of dark hair from her face.

  Michael nodded in response.

  ‘Thank you,’ Grace replied.

  DI Moss gave a nod to the Sergeant who had accompanied them to identify Paul’s body.

  ‘Mr Carter,’ the Sergeant said. ‘If you follow me, you can pick up some of your son’s belongings.’

  Grace let go of Michael’s arm. ‘I’ll wait just outside for you,’ she said with a faint smile. Michael silently followed the Sergeant out of the room and along the corridor. Grace turned her attention to the Inspector. ‘It’s been a long time, Leigh,’ she said.

  DI Moss bristled at the familiarity before taking a furtive glance around the corridor.

  ‘Do you have any idea who was responsible for this?’ Grace asked.

  Leigh paused before shaking her head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t tell me, even if you did?’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t. I really am sorry for your loss, Grace. But I have a job to do here. So, stay out of my way.’

  Grace glared at her. ‘Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Leigh,’ she warned. ‘But, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll stay out of your way.’ Catching sight of Michael coming further down the corridor, she brushed past the Inspector.

  ‘We’ll find whoever did this,’ Leigh said as a parting shot.

  Grace turned on her heel. ‘Not if I find him first,’ she replied.

  Grace caught up with Michael, who was now holding Paul’s gym bag in his hand. She linked her arm through his and they walked out of the station.

  ‘Did that Inspector have anything to say?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Nothing important,’ Grace replied. ‘Just said she’d be doing her best to catch whoever did this.’

  ‘Well, I won’t hold my breath. Half of that lot couldn’t find their arse with both hands,’ he replied, the words catching in his throat.

  Grace gave his arm a squeeze. ‘Come on. Let’s get home.’

  Together they walked to the car and Grace thought about Leigh Moss. They had been friends, of a sort, once. But that felt like a lifetime ago now. Certainly, they had been leading very different lives back then. It had been almost six years since they’d last seen each other, but Grace had followed Leigh’s career and already knew about her temporary promotion to the Organised Crime Task Force. Nobody knew about their connection, not even Michael, and Grace was determined it would stay that way. Despite their differences now, Grace had a lot of admiration and respect for Leigh. She had turned her life around and become someone – just as she’d promised she would. Grace would never betray Leigh’s trust. But, as true as that was, Grace’s loyalty came at a price, and both women knew it was only a matter of time before that debt was called in.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Grace dialled the number of DI Tony Webster. He was a bent copper whom Grace had had on her payroll for years, since he was a lowly sergeant. She paid him a substantial retainer, although she felt increasingly as though he did little to earn it.

  ‘Grace?’ he said when he answered.

  ‘I assume you’ve heard what happened?’ she replied. They never bothered with formalities.

  ‘Yeah. My condolences to you and Michael.’

  ‘Thanks. I need to know everything that the police do on this, Webster.’

  ‘Well, we don’t know much of anything yet. And the Senior Investigating Officer is a new Acting DI, and she isn’t exactly my biggest fan,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘I don’t give a shit,’ Grace snapped. ‘I’ll expect you here tomorrow to give us an update.’

  She heard him sigh. He never came to their house ordinarily. It wouldn’t do his reputation any good to be seen there. But there was no way Grace was asking Michael to leave the house if he didn’t have to.

  ‘Okay?’ Grace said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Webster agreed. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Walking into the bedroom, Grace saw Michael sitting on the edge of their bed with his head in his hands. Sitting beside him, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘How are you doing?’ she asked, realising what a stupid question that was as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

  He shrugged.

  ‘Everyone has gone. Sean and Sophia have taken the kids for the night. I hope that’s okay?’

  Michael nodded and then he started to cry. Deep, gulping sobs that shook the whole bed beneath them. Putting her arms around him, Grace kissed the top of his head, the smell of the shampoo he always used filling her nostrils and reminding her how much she had missed him over the past few weeks.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, although her words felt hollow and meaningless in the face of his unimaginable loss – of their loss.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone,’ Michael said as he straightened up and wiped the tears from his face. ‘He still had his whole life to live. What will we do without him, Grace?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly.

  ‘I’m worried about Connor and Jake. Did you see them tonight? Huddled in the corner. They’re going to go off and do something stupid.’

  ‘I’ll take care of that. Don’t worry,’ she soothed, although she was worried about the two of them herself. She had seen them talking animatedly in hushed tones, slipping into silence when anyone approached.

  ‘I’ll sort this out,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll find whoever did this and make sure they regret they were ever born. But now is not the time.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said as she continued stroking his hair. ‘I’ll have a w
ord with them, I promise.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’ve asked Tony Webster to come round tomorrow if you’re up to it. He can fill us in on what the police know so far. It’s about time the lazy bastard actually did something to earn his money.’

  Michael looked at her. ‘Yeah, okay,’ he said and Grace noticed the lines on his face. Had they been there that morning? Would she have even noticed if they had? She felt a rush of remorse for everything she’d put him through over the past few weeks. It all seemed so meaningless now.

  ‘Why don’t you try and get some sleep? You look exhausted,’ she said as she brushed his hair back from his face.

  He attempted a smile. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again,’ he said before standing up to leave.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Grace asked as she took hold of his arm.

  ‘I’ll let you get to bed.’

  ‘Michael. You don’t have to go anywhere,’ she said. Her heart almost broke at the thought of him going and the fact that he thought that she would turn him away when his son had just been murdered.

  She was relieved when he sat back down on the bed, and when she lay down, he lay beside her, putting his head on her chest. She stroked his hair and thought about her next move. She had to be smart, and careful. Because of who Paul was, the police would be all over his murder and she couldn’t afford to draw too much attention to them all. Grace closed her eyes. It was no use trying to think straight right now. Her head was all over the place. She was heartbroken about Paul, not only for her but for Michael and the rest of their children. And she felt guilty too. If she hadn’t been so angry with them all for the past week and a half, maybe she would have seen this coming? But mostly she just thought about Paul, and how none of their lives would ever be the same again.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Jake sat on Paul’s bed, in Paul’s apartment, and scanned the room, looking at the pieces of himself that Paul had left behind. The pair of unwashed jeans hanging over the open wardrobe door; the trainers hastily discarded next to the bed; the half packet of chewing gum and the bottle of Creed aftershave on the dresser. Jake hadn’t allowed himself to cry while he’d been at his mum and Michael’s house. Not only had he felt the need to hold it together for everyone else’s benefit, he still wasn’t ready for everyone to know the depth of feeling he had for his step-brother. As he’d driven Connor home, they’d talked about what their next moves would be. They had made plans to avenge Paul’s murder in any way they could. Connor had cried and talked about how much he would miss his twin, but Jake had focused on his anger instead, fearing that if he started to think about the pain of losing Paul he might never recover. But, here in Paul’s apartment, his grief was inescapable.

  Jake still hadn’t sorted himself anywhere to stay, so Connor had given him the key to Paul’s place. As soon as he’d unlocked the door and stepped inside, Jake’s senses had been overwhelmed. The flat smelled like Paul. Everywhere Jake looked, Paul was there. The place was just as he’d left it earlier that day, just waiting for him to walk back inside and carry on with his life as normal.

  And now Jake was alone. Alone with every memory he had of the man he loved. He started to cry. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs that shook the breath from his body. He thought at first of all the happy times they had shared together, of how much they had loved each other. How they never seemed to be able to spend more than a day apart. Until recently, that was. Jake felt a searing physical pain deep inside his chest as he remembered the last time they’d spoken. He remembered it as clearly as if it had happened only seconds ago – when he’d told Paul that he never wanted to see him again. The memory was agony to him, but soon it was all he could think of, until the guilt felt like it was going to swallow him whole. Did Paul die thinking that Jake hated him?

  Jake knew now that he forgave Paul for everything. It didn’t even matter any more that he had lied to him. Only it was too late. He would never get the chance to tell him. Never see his cheeky smile, or kiss him, or feel the warmth of one of his hugs. Lying back on the bed, he could still smell Paul on the pillows and sheets and he breathed in the scent. It was all he had left of him now. Tomorrow he would wake up in this bed without Paul. Every day for the rest of his life he would wake up without him, and the realisation of that made him feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest, leaving a gaping black hole in its place.

  The only thing Jake had left to give the man he loved was the promise he would find whoever had killed him, and make him feel pain like he had never experienced before.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Grace showed DI Tony Webster into the sitting room where Michael was waiting for them both. Michael looked up as Webster entered the room but didn’t offer him any greeting. As far as Michael was concerned Webster was the lowest of the low. All he was interested in was money. Grace and Michael had paid him a lot of money over the years, which he did very little to earn in Michael’s opinion. But Grace had had him on her payroll for as long as Michael had known her and whilst everything Michael believed about him was true, he did have his uses.

  Grace didn’t bother offering Webster a drink. He wouldn’t be staying long.

  ‘So?’ she said as she sat down next to her husband on the sofa. ‘What do you have for us?’

  Webster cleared his throat and looked anxiously at Michael, who continued to glare at him. ‘Well,’ he started. ‘We don’t have much to go on.’ He sucked air through his teeth – a habit which had always grated on Grace.

  ‘Just tell us what you fucking do have,’ Michael barked.

  Webster flinched. ‘We have no CCTV of the incident, but we do have CCTV footage of a motorbike turning into Harkness Street from Stanley Road, and out onto Westminster Road fifteen minutes later before speeding off towards Southport Road. That same motorbike was found abandoned in a ditch on a country lane in Lymm later that evening. It had been stolen a few days prior but it had plates from another bike that was registered to a fifty-year-old pastry chef named Harvey who lives in Bristol.’

  ‘The plates were cloned?’ Grace asked.

  Tony nodded. ‘As for the shooter. He was a pro. One clean shot straight through the carotid artery. Paul would have been walking towards him. It wasn’t a point, pray and shoot, like we usually see. It was a calculated and professional hit.’

  ‘Anything else? Any leads?’ Grace asked.

  ‘From the bullet’s trajectory, and the skid marks left by the bike driving away at high speed, we believe the shooter was right-handed. But as for any leads, we have nothing tangible yet. You probably know more than us on that score.’

  ‘What?’ Michael growled.

  Webster flinched every time Michael spoke. ‘I said you’d probably know more than us,’ he mumbled.

  ‘I heard what you said, fuckwit! But what the fuck do you mean by it?’

  Grace placed her hand on Michael’s leg, sensing that another wrong word from Webster, and her husband would start using his face as a boot scraper.

  ‘I don’t mean any offence, Michael,’ Webster said as he held his hands up in defence. ‘I just mean that you would know more than we do about Paul’s associates. Anyone who might have reason to … well, you know what I mean,’ he said quickly as he stood up. ‘I need to get back to the station.’

  ‘Thanks, Tony,’ Grace said as she stood up to show him out. ‘Let us know if you get any more information.’

  ‘I will do.’

  Walking back into the living room, Grace saw Michael was pouring himself a drink.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, realising what a ridiculous question it was as soon as the words had left her mouth.

  ‘He’s a fucking cretin,’ said Michael. ‘So basically they’ve got fuck all to go on. My son gets shot in the middle of the street in broad daylight and all he can tell us is that the shooter stole a motorbike and was right-handed? He’s a waste of fucking space.’ He downed the glass of brandy in one.

  ‘It’s still early day
s,’ she said as she approached him. ‘Besides, we don’t want the police finding him, do we? We can handle that ourselves. And then when we do…’

  ‘I know,’ he said with a sigh before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. ‘I know.’

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The doorbell rang for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The seemingly never-ending stream of visitors had stopped only half an hour earlier. Grace had finally managed to settle Belle and Oscar and was about to make herself and Michael something to eat when it rang again.

  Swearing under her breath, Grace headed for the door, leaving Michael sitting in their kitchen. Opening the door of their house, Grace saw Michael’s ex-wife Cheryl standing in the rain. There had never been any love lost between the two women. Cheryl had made no secret of the fact that she despised Grace and resented the fact that Michael and she were married. Despite that, Cheryl had just lost her son, and Grace knew that in the face of that, none of that mattered any more.

  ‘Cheryl, come in,’ Grace said as she opened the door.

  Cheryl walked straight past her towards Michael who was now standing in the hallway. Upon reaching him she wrapped her arms around him and started to sob uncontrollably. Michael held her until the tears subsided a little.

  ‘I’m sorry, Cheryl,’ Michael said to her. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He stroked her hair and gave her a brief kiss on the top of her head and Grace saw a glimpse of the tenderness and love that must have once existed between them. Cheryl had been Michael’s first wife. They were married young and had the twins shortly after. Michael had thought she was the love of his life at one time, and had been devastated to learn that she had cheated on him throughout their twelve-year marriage, including with Grace’s ex-husband, Nathan. After their divorce Cheryl had never recovered financially or in terms of her status and lifestyle. Once upon a time, she was manicured, buffed and coiffed to within an inch of her life. But since their divorce she hadn’t been afforded the same lifestyle she’d enjoyed as the first Mrs Carter even though Michael had given her a generous monthly allowance until the twins turned eighteen. Once they were adults, the twins had supported their mother’s frequent trips to Turkey and her false nails and sunbed addiction, but she’d never quite regained the polished facade of her twenties and early thirties.