Tara called DC Gina Marshall in Belfast.
‘Hi, Gina, it’s me again, come to ask another favour.’
‘Hello, mam. No problem, what can I do for you?’
‘You told me that Carly McHugh had travelled to Scotland on the ferry. Was she a foot-passenger or did she have a vehicle?’
‘I don’t know, mam, but I can soon find out.’
‘That would be great, Gina.’
‘How are you getting on with your serial killer?’
Tara sighed. ‘All quiet again, I’m afraid. I spoke with his former probation officer, Jason Collywell, the man who tried to kill him. Collywell is convinced that James Guy is a sex fiend, but he had nothing concrete to give me. I would love to find out what happened to Guy’s mother Rachel, find out if it has a bearing on how James turned out. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to begin a search.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, mam, the circumstantial evidence you have from the pictures and the timeline of Guy’s life, it all fits. Why not pull him in for a chat?’
‘Mm, maybe you’re right, Gina. Nothing to lose, I suppose. Right now though, I’m up to my neck in this Boswell thing.’
As Tara put down the phone, her mobile beeped with another text from Aisling. So far this morning she’d managed to ignore her friend’s pleas to go shopping with her on Saturday. Aisling liked to make an early start on purchasing clothes for her holiday. Kate did too, but as she was currently away with her Mum that meant Tara, who usually left that kind of shopping to the last minute, would have to go with Aisling. Feeling sorry for her friend, she was about to forgo her planned day of housework, when her desk phone sounded.
‘Mam, it’s Gina. I have that info you wanted.’
‘That was quick!’
‘Carly boarded the Cairnryan ferry on a motorbike. A green Kawasaki Ninja 300. I have the registration for you.’
Suddenly, Tara realised that her heart rate was up. She ordered Wilson to issue an alert for the motorbike. If Carly McHugh was in Liverpool she hoped they would soon find her. She called out for Murray.
‘Alan, let’s pay another visit to Treadwater.’
Chapter 55
I didn’t have time to hang about; I would have to take whatever I could get. No chance of getting my hands on china white, not with Janek out of the frame. I contacted some waster by the name of Cheez who hangs out near my old flat in Toxteth. He was a creepy wee shite. Looked the type of dealer who usually sold to school kids — lowest of the low. Tried to fleece me and then thought he could offload a bag of ecstasy pills. No bloody use to me. Then he tried to sell me spice, legal highs. A walking supermarket, this guy. Spice is too risky, there’s no telling what reaction I’d get from the girls, and besides, I would have to get them to smoke the stuff. No good for me. In the end he sold me some roofies. I’d no idea how much I was going to need. Didn’t think there would be enough to see off my lovelies. But I was hoping that I had enough to keep them quiet when I needed them to be.
I picked up the van from the street where I’d left it, a mile away from our flat. It was already kitted out with a mattress, blankets, cable ties and gaffer tape, the usual tools of my trade. Then I set off for Wapping Dock, to wait for the sultry Aisling.
It was gone half-ten in the morning; I didn’t think she would be out of her bed yet. I settled in on the road by the exit to her car park, and prepared myself for a bit of a wait. But my luck was in already — I’d only just finished an egg sandwich when I saw her pull up to the barrier in her wee sporty hatchback. She was leaving, but Aisling was so easy to follow, and besides, I already had a good idea of where she was headed.
Just past the Liver Building, she turned right into Chapel Street and then left into an alley and the entrance to a small private parking area. I drove on by, to a spot I knew where I could park the van and pretend to be unloading. Hurrying back to the alley on foot, I caught a glimpse of her going in by a side door to the offices of the promotions company she worked for.
I had already sussed out the likely progress of Aisling’s day. She would either be inside the office until lunchtime, when she would wander around the shops, maybe have a coffee and a snack, or she would leave the office soon and be on her way to a job somewhere in the city. Easy.
I paced the alley and Chapel Street, keeping an eye on the front and side entrances to her office. It was quite a cool day, with a breeze blowing, an inconvenient time to be without a jacket, but I wore a baseball cap to hide my face from any CCTV. It wasn’t long before she emerged from the side door, carrying a cardboard box. Another honey appeared beside her, also struggling with a large box.
These girls really knew how to dress. Aisling wore a short pink leather skirt and black suede boots, a woolly jumper and scarf, while her mate had enormous heels, black leggings and a yellow leather jacket. I watched the pair of them wiggle to Aisling’s car, and jogged by to get to my van. I caught sight of the wee red car as it left the alley and turned into Chapel Street. Both girls were on board.
I followed them all the way to a shopping mall in Bootle. It seemed obvious to me, when I saw them unload their boxes and carry them inside, that they would be working here for a while, so I took myself to Costa for a coffee and a muffin. When I’d finished, I strolled through the shopping centre and it didn’t take me long to spot the pair of them working at a small promotional stand. Feeling bold, I walked past slowly; close enough to reach out and grope Aisling’s bum if I’d wanted to, as she chatted with two young girls on the benefits of using the moisturiser she was holding. She didn't' see me, but the other girl spoke.
‘Hiya,’ she sang, holding a bottle of the cream. ‘Would you like to try our moisturiser?’
‘No thanks,’ I replied. The girl had a narrow face and small mouth, but lovely red hair and green eyes. At that point, I saw Aisling look at me while continuing to chat with her two customers. I was not sure if she recognised me, but she had that slightly confused expression that suggested an alarm had just rung in her head.
It was then that I realised I was going to have to get her away from her colleague. I couldn’t afford to wait until the evening, when she was on her way home. I had far too much to do. This would have to be a snatch unlike any I had done before.
I tried to find a place nearby from which to keep a close eye on her. She had plenty of potential customers strolling by, and that kept her busy. When she wasn’t pushing her face cream she was on her mobile, talking, texting, browsing. The mall was filling up as lunchtime approached and I hoped this would provide my opportunity. Usually, I wouldn’t dare take a girl in this kind of place, too many witnesses and the scourge of CCTV, but I would just have to try my best to make everything look quite innocent...
I went back to Costa, bought another coffee and sat down in a quiet corner. I pulled out one of the new mobiles I’d bought, on which I’d made a note of the office number for the promotions agency where Aisling worked.
A cheerful female voice answered.
‘Hello, this is DC Wilson, Merseyside Police,’ I said in my best Scouse accent. It was handy that I recalled the name Wilson from the time he interviewed me in hospital after my experience at the hands of that crazy bitch Aeron.
‘Danielle speaking. How may I help you?’ said the girl.
‘I was hoping to speak with Aisling Doherty.’
‘She’s not in the office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?’
‘I really need to speak with her right away. Can you give me her mobile number?’
‘Sorry, I’m not supposed to give out personal information on the telephone.’
‘I understand, Danielle, but this is urgent. Aisling’s friend DI Grogan has been injured, and she’s asking to speak to her.’
‘Tara?’
‘That’s right. Do you know her?’
‘Not well, but she comes to our events sometimes. Hold on, I’ll get Aisling’s number for you.’
Sweet.
I finish
ed my coffee, then casually strolled by the wee promotion stand where Aisling and her mate were still chatting with all the passers-by they could. In the adjoining multi-storey car park, I moved my van to a space as close as possible to Aisling’s car. It was still about twenty yards away, but it would have to do. Then, I dialled in the number that Danielle had given me. At first I thought it was going to cut to voice mail; then Aisling answered.
‘Hello, who’s this?’
‘Hi, Aisling, DC Wilson from St. Anne Street Station. Tara asked me to call you.’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘She’s been injured in an incident. She’s fine, but she’s in A and E at the Royal.’
‘Oh my God, what’s happened to her?’ Aisling sounded panicky..
‘She’ll be fine, Aisling. She asked me to call; she can’t get to her phone at the minute.’
‘OK, I’m on my way. The Royal?’
‘That’s right. I’ll see you there.’
I cut the call.
Sweet.
Two minutes later, I watched her rush into the car park as fast as she could in her high heeled boots. And before she knew what was happening I was walking beside her. At first she gave me no more than a sideways glance, but I got her full attention when I pricked her side with my knife. At the same time I got my left hand around her head and over her mouth. I imagine that her screams would have been bloody loud, had I not muffled them. Abruptly, I changed our direction and marched her to the van. I slid open the side door and bundled her inside. I didn’t mean to but as she tried to wrestle from my grasp the knife went into her side. The cut was not deep, but there was blood.
‘Shut the fuck up, Aisling, or you’ll get worse.’
She looked a sight, not at all the cracking bird I’d been watching for the past few days. Her mascara was smudged, tears streaked on her face and she looked more like Alice Cooper than a glamorous promotions girl. I had to act quickly, before she gave me away with all her struggling and attempts at squealing.
Holding the knife to her throat, I warned her again. ‘Not a fucking word, Aisling. Do as I say and we won’t have a problem. Understand?’
I shook her, once. Her eyes looked ready to pop from their sockets. ‘Understand?’
At last, she seemed to catch on. I ripped a piece of gaffer tape from the bulkhead of the van, another preparation of mine, and stuck it over her mouth. Then I bound her hands with a cable tie and, removing her boots, did the same to her feet. There were no syringes filled with china white this time. I pulled back the tape from her mouth and forced a pill inside, replacing the tape. Even if she didn’t swallow, it would dissolve in her gob. That done, I left her in the back and went to pay for my parking at the pay-station.
As I walked back to the van I could hear the wee cow kicking up a racket, thumping the wall of the van with her feet. I thought, if she would only use her head to do the thumping she might pass out a lot quicker. I jumped into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I eased from the space, drove by her car, slipped my ticket into the machine, waited for the barrier to lift and drove onto the road. I realised that much of what I’d just done would be picked up by the CCTV in the car park, but I’d had no choice. I would have to burn the van this time and perhaps get rid of Mother Freedom too. There could be no traces left for the bizzies to connect me with Aisling and Tara.
With Aisling safely drifting into oblivion, I was already past the point of no return.
Chapter 56
Tara was wary now of treading on DCI Weir’s toes, of interfering in whatever investigation he had going. But she hoped that speaking with Shania Smith once more would not encroach upon the DCI’s operations.
They were shown into the lounge of the Smith household in Treadwater by a large lady in her late thirties. She hadn’t said much when greeted by police officers; her pale face and tired blue eyes seemed weary of it all. Wearing a grey dressing gown and well-worn furry slippers, she called out to her daughter.
‘Shania! Bizzies here to see you.’ With that, she pointed to the lounge door and proceeded upstairs.
Shania was lying on a sofa, a duvet pulled up to her waist despite the warmth of the room. Her face was heavily bruised, a mess of purples and yellows, her left arm still in plaster and strapped up to her shoulder. She didn’t look happy to see them.
‘How are you feeling, Shania?’ Tara asked. Shania didn’t reply, merely watched Murray as he browsed the living room. It was not a large space, not with two over-sized sofas, a TV with a fifty-inch screen and a heavy-looking coffee table plonked in the middle of the floor. Murray flicked through a couple of women’s magazines he’d lifted from the table, as Shania continued to watch him.
‘I’m sure you know by now that Tyler was killed?’ said Tara.
Immediately, tears began to flow and Tara quickly rifled through her bag and produced a fresh tissue for the girl. ‘You have nothing to fear from speaking to us, Shania. We just want to find out who attacked you and who killed Ryan and Tyler. Anything, no matter how small you think it is, could help.’
‘It was Tyler.’ She dabbed the tissue at her eyes. Her speech was still constrained by the wiring of her jaw but she managed to form the words.
‘Tyler what? It was Tyler who beat you?’
The girl nodded. Tara hoped that she had more to say, but silence ensued and Murray moved on to examine various family pictures in frames on the wall. Still Shania watched him.
‘Why did Tyler beat you?’ asked Tara.
‘Had a fight, that’s all.’
‘What were you fighting about?’
Shania lowered her head and sobbed into her chest. Tara could wait. The girl’s mother, however, had other ideas. She stood at the threshold of the room, her arms folded.
‘Tell them, Shania. Tell them everything and be done with it. If you don’t, then I will.’
Tara was surprised by the woman’s tone. On first meeting, she hadn’t thought the mother was the least concerned by her daughter’s woes. Now it seemed that Shania had shared what she knew, what she had been through, with her mother. But still the girl could not bring herself to explain.
‘He said that you knew too much, didn’t he, Shania? Saw too much, as well. Go on, tell them, Shania.’
‘OK, mum,’ she said irritated. She blotted the last tear from her right eye. ‘It happened at a party,’ she began. ‘Tyler had taken something, coke I think. He wasn’t himself. Started shouting at me in front of his mates. Had everyone laughing at me. He pushed me down the stairs. I ran outside, but they came after me. I asked him to take me home, but he kicked me in the backside then punched me in the face. His mates joined in, and I don’t remember anything after that.’
Tara brushed her hand gently across Shania’s bare arm and smiled sympathetically. It wasn’t difficult to recognise an innocent young girl who’d been caught up in the wrong company.
‘Why was he angry with you?’
‘He thought I’d told you too much, that time at the station.’
‘What do you know that made him concerned over what you’d told us?’
‘Drugs and stuff.’
‘Do you know what happened to Ryan?’
‘A little bit.’
Shania looked at her mother, whose demeanour had softened. Now she was shedding tears for her daughter, wiping them away with the back of her hand.
‘Can you tell me about it?’
A frightened look came over her face, the expression they’d seen when they last saw her at the hospital. For a moment Tara feared they’d taken another backward step.
‘Tyler can’t hurt you anymore, Shania. But we need to clear up this mess before other people get hurt.’
‘I know.’ She wiped her eyes again with the tissue. ‘It was Ryan’s brother Aidan’s birthday party. Ryan and his girl came over from Sunderland.’
‘Who else was at the party?’
‘Tyler and the rest of the Vipers, but there were men that came from Belfast. It c
aused a lot of arguments between Tyler and Craig. They weren’t very happy with Ryan, but I’d say they were more frightened by the men from Belfast.’
‘Do you know who they were?’
‘No. I never saw them until after Ryan was killed. But they seemed happier then, Tyler and Craig, I mean.’
‘What about Carly McHugh?’
‘Don’t know much about her. She came along with Ryan. She smiled at me once, that’s all.’
‘Was she definitely Ryan’s girlfriend?’
‘Think so. They were holding hands when they arrived at the party.’
‘What happened that night? Why was Ryan shot?’
‘I think it was because he had been stealing some of the drugs and some of the money.’
‘Were the Vipers working along with these men from Belfast?’
‘I think the men from Belfast were in charge. That’s why Tyler was scared of them.’
‘Who killed Ryan?’ Tara looked hard at Shania and the girl paused before continuing.
‘I don’t know. They took him away during the party.’
‘And Tyler?’
‘I don’t know!’ Shania burst into tears once again, and Tara placed a consoling hand on the girl’s arm.
Lethal Dose; Lethal Justice; Lethal Mind Page 69