Riot

by Heather Atkinson

  Riot

  Dividing Line #13

  Copyright Heather Atkinson July 2019

  CHAPTER 1

  DCI Dwyer took a seat on the squishy couch and regarded the two people sat opposite him with a sympathetic expression, not an emotion he felt deeply but he was good at putting it on when required.

  He’d been invited to Ken and Joyce Sweeney’s house, Amber Maguire’s parents, who apparently had something vitally important to discuss with him.

  “Thank you for coming DCI Dwyer,” began Joyce. “I’m sorry for being all cloak and dagger but our ex-son-in-law has eyes everywhere. I didn’t want him to know we’d spoken.”

  Although Dwyer was painfully aware that the Maguires had paid informants at his station, the insinuation from someone else still irked. “It’s no problem at all,” he replied. “How can I help?”

  “Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

  Dwyer shook his head, swallowing down his impatience, willing her to get to the point.

  Joyce dabbed at her eyes, even though there were no tears. “It’s about our daughter, Amber.”

  Casually he nodded for her to continue.

  “Mikey divorced her to marry his own cousin, the disgusting incestuous creep,” she hissed, hands curling into fists, mercilessly crushing her tissue while her husband sat beside her looking like he wished he was somewhere else.

  “Yes, I heard about that,” said Dwyer. “And I was appalled.”

  “Amber’s such a beautiful girl, she could have been a model if she hadn’t been saddled with Mikey Maguire. He tricked her into getting pregnant and marriage then he dumped her for that appalling woman. We don’t understand it at all, do we Ken?”

  “Not at all,” he parroted.

  Dwyer sighed and shifted in his chair. He had a lot to do and he didn’t want to sit here listening to this pair of idiots. “You’re concerned about Amber?”

  “Of course we are,” snapped Joyce. “She left for Spain eight months ago and we haven’t heard from her since.”

  Finally they had his attention and he sat up straighter in his seat. “When did you last see her?”

  “I just told you, eight months ago when Mikey married his own cousin. Amber was heartbroken. She’d always harboured hopes that she and Mikey would get back together, after all they have two children together. He shattered all her hopes on his wedding day. She called to say she had to get away, it was too much for her. She loves Spain so it was the perfect place for her to go. She called us when she landed, gave us the address of where she was staying and that was the last we heard. When we didn’t hear anything for a few weeks we flew out there. Amber and her things were nowhere to be found. The man who owns the villa she’d rented barely speaks English and was absolutely no use. All he could tell us what that she’d left. We’ve not heard from her since.” Joyce dabbed at her eyes again. “At first we thought she’d just gone off travelling. She can go a long time without getting in touch but never this long. We think something’s happened to her.”

  “Are you sure she isn’t just enjoying herself and forgot to get in touch?”

  Joyce’s lips thinned into a disapproving line. “I’m the first to admit that my daughter is a thoughtless girl but something’s happened to her, I just know it. She was staying in Galicia. I know it’s at the opposite end of the country to the Costa Del Sol, or should I say the Costa Del Crime but I’m sure Mikey has friends out there who’d be willing to get rid of an inconvenient individual for him.”

  “Why would his ex-wife be inconvenient to him Mrs Sweeney? She gave Mikey the divorce he wanted, he’d moved on with his new wife.”

  “Amber had started seeing her children again, she wanted to be a part of their lives.”

  “If that was the case then why did she go to Spain?”

  “Because she got scared. Mikey’s a possessive, controlling man. He certainly wasn’t going to let her rebuild her relationship with the boys. Spain was the perfect place for him to hire someone to do his dirty work for him, in another country, where he can’t be blamed and in the Costa Del Crime there’s plenty of people willing for enough money.”

  “Have you personal experience of the Costa Del Sol Madam?”

  “Yes. We went out there on holiday several times.”

  “And did you meet anyone who would perhaps fit the bill?” he said eagerly.

  “Well, no. We didn’t meet any criminals. Mikey was always very careful to keep us away from all that, the devious bastard. But I’ve seen the documentaries on the telly, I know all about it.”

  Dwyer sighed, fighting the urge to smash the twee ornament of a shepherd on the table beside him into the silly bat’s face. But he reined in his impatience. If she was right it could be what he needed to finally bring down the Maguires. “Could I have your daughter’s last known address?”

  “So you’re going to do something about it?”

  “Of course Madam. I’ll contact the owner of the property she was staying at and I’ll run checks on her passport, just to make sure she really did leave the country. If she did indeed move on to somewhere else in Europe that won’t show on her passport. But you never know, it might help.”

  “Oh that’s wonderful DCI Dwyer, thank you. I knew coming to you was the right thing to do.”

  “It most certainly was. If you leave me your contact details I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I’ll get right on it Madam. As soon as I know, you will. I promise.”

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that someone’s finally doing something about this,” she said as she scribbled down the requested information. She regarded him with a steady gaze. “I heard you were the one to go to. That family has got away with so much for so long. You’re the only one capable of stopping their reign of terror.”

  Dwyer puffed up with pride. “I can assure you that I’m working hard to make that happen.”

  “If they have done anything to our beautiful girl…”

  “Then they will pay, I promise you that. This time they’re not wriggling out of it.” He took the piece of paper off her, slipped it into his pocket and got to his feet. “I’ll be in touch soon and please, don’t mention that we’ve spoken to anyone.”

  “We won’t,” said Joyce. “We don’t want Mikey finding out, as long as you can promise the same.”

  “I’ll handle this personally so he doesn’t find out, have no fear there. Good day to you both.”

  Dwyer left with a smile, wondering if he’d finally found a way to bring down the Maguires and Laws.

  Detective Inspector Leonidas clenched his fists as he watched the police sniffer dogs standing sentinel around the body they’d just found, whining and pawing at the ground. They’d been so close to catching The Make-up Killer, the serial killer who had been targeting the attractive young men of Liverpool for the last seven months. Leonidas constantly cursed whichever hack journo had come up with that crap nickname, inspired by the fact that their killer made up his victims’ faces with so much make-up post mortem they looked like clowns. The Clown Killer would have been far better but no. Leonidas was sure the nickname had only stuck to embarrass the police officers who had to use it on a daily basis. It also made it sound like the perpetrator killed his victims with make-up when in fact the sick bastard manually strangled them before mutilating them in various disgusting ways.

  The killer - who had been carrying a body wrapped in plastic into the usually solitary woods - had been spotted by a jogger. The jogger in question was an ex-army serviceman still in prime physical condition who had zero qualms about tackling someone carrying a body. Sadly the killer had been equally fit and had managed to escape but the body was still fresh and they hoped to recover something that woul
d help them nail the perpetrator.

  “Will you keep those dogs under control?” demanded Leonidas. “They’re giving me a bloody headache.” Instantly he felt guilty about snapping at the frowning sergeant. He hadn’t meant to shout but he’d quit smoking nine days ago and he was incredibly close to giving in to the torturous cravings. He had his plastic vape on him but it wasn’t the same as a good lungful of smoke and tar.

  “Sorry Sir but I think they’ve found something else.”

  “You mean a dead squirrel or something?”

  The sergeant looked distinctly put out. “No Sir. These are trained cadaver detection dogs. They do not go mental over a squirrel.”

  “Alright, take it easy touchy arse,” said Leonidas, causing the sergeant’s lips to purse. “So what are they doing then if they haven’t found a squirrel?”

  “You’re obsessed with squirrels. Sir,” he hastily added when Leonidas’s dark brows butted heads.

  “Could they have found another body? A human one?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Oy, you lot,” said Leonidas, waving a hand in the general direction of the scenes of crimes officers, who had just turned up. “I want a search over here, where the dogs are going mental.”

  “We brought ground penetrating radar,” said the team manager. “We think this is The Make-Up Killer’s dumping ground. We hope to find Daniel Stewart, the missing second victim.”

  “Get to it then. It could be him.”

  Leonidas watched as the team set up their equipment, Leonidas tutting impatiently as they seemed to take forever, the delay not helping his nicotine craving.

  The team manager stared at the screen they’d set up and released an excited exclamation.

  “What is it?” cried Leonidas rushing to his side.

  “This equipment works by emitting radar frequency pulses into the ground, which then bounce back off the object…”

  “I don’t want a lecture professor, just tell me if there’s someone buried down there.”

  “Yes, most definitely,” he said, indicating the image on the screen.

  “Is it Daniel Stewart?”

  “With all due respect Leonidas, we’re basically looking at a shape and colours. A passport photograph it is not.”

  “Well hurry up and get them out of there then,” he retorted, taking out his vape and blowing a sickly strawberry-scented cloud into the man’s face, making him grimace.

  The excavation took a good six hours, the body had been buried so deep, each piece of earth needing to be meticulously sifted for evidence. Leonidas headed back to the office to oversee his team then snuck home for a shower and something to eat before heading back to the crime scene, feeling fresh as a daisy.

  “Oh, so you’re back with us then,” the scenes of crime manager frowned up at him from the bottom of a very deep hole.

  “In the flesh,” he grinned, sucking on his plastic tube. He’d exchanged the strawberry for marshmallow flavour, which was much more pleasant. “Oh dear, your nice white paper suit has got all dirty.”

  “Do you want to know what we’ve found or are you going to arse about as usual?”

  “I eagerly await your pearls of wisdom. Is it Daniel Stewart?”

  “No, it’s not Daniel Stewart.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because it’s a woman. A bit of a giveaway really.”

  “Oh bloody hell,” he sighed. “This just gets more complicated.” Leonidas thrust his marshmallow stick into his pocket and looked to his sergeant. “Oy you, give me a proper ciggie. Now. I’m going to blow.”

  The sergeant delved into his pocket and hastily tossed him the full packet.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Stop it,” yelled Jules. “I said stop it.”

  She giggled as Mikey buried his face in her neck while his hands tickled her ribs beneath her black hoodie.

  “Gets you every time,” he purred in her ear.

  Jules gazed into her husband’s beautiful sea green eyes. They’d been married for eight months and she appreciated every single second with him after he’d almost died at the carnage that had been their wedding reception. He’d been shot twice in the back protecting her from a sniper sent by their enemies. Even now the sight of the small round scars from the bullet holes were enough to send her screaming back into the bad memories. Thanks to her therapist she’d managed to work through the aggression those memories had brought out in her. For a while she’d got a bit too violent during the course of her work and had put people in hospital she’d only meant to give a light beating. Venom, her darker half had almost re-emerged but thanks to her therapist and the support of her family she’d beaten her demons once again.

  “You know me so well,” she said, kissing him.

  Mikey groaned and pressed her back against his desk. They were in their new headquarters, the centre of Maguire-Law operations. After their disaster of a wedding they’d decided it would be safer to move headquarters once again, this time to a large, isolated stone house they’d affectionately nicknamed The Manor due to its grand appearance. They were in West Didsbury, one of Manchester’s more picturesque suburbs. They’d kept on their previous headquarters as decoys for the police and any potential enemies.

  A cough from the back of the room had them straightening up.

  “You coming into this meeting then or what?” said Jez. “We’re sat here like lemons while you’re getting it on over the furniture again. I wish you two would quit it at work, the whole lot’s going to collapse one day.”

  “Coming,” said Jules.

  “That’ll have to wait until later,” murmured Mikey, making her grin.

  They followed Jez into their new meeting room, which had once been a splendid dining room with a huge stone fireplace and wood panelling lining the walls.

  Jez resumed his seat at the table. Also in attendance were Mark Cameron, their new head of security, replacing Grant, who had been killed during the attack on Mikey and Jules’s wedding reception. He’d proved his loyalty repeatedly and was one of their top men. Beside him sat a man with messy dark hair called Carter who Mikey and Jez, after very careful vetting, had risen through the ranks. He’d worked his way up from the bottom level as an enforcer to become one of the trusted inner circle. He acted as a personal bodyguard to Mikey and Jez and ensured the smooth running of the drug deliveries, an operation they ran with the McVays in Glasgow. His relaxed manner and deep drawling voice was reminiscent of a cowboy, even though his accent was pure Mancunian. He was always in tight blue jeans, brown leather boots and a checked blue shirt with leather jacket. His laidback personality and rugged features made him very attractive to the opposite sex.

  The sixth member of their group was Shane. The strapping man occupying the seat at the far end of the table wearing a sinfully expensive suit was a million miles from the young lad from a Nottingham council estate they’d taken under their collective wing and trained. He now ran the Liverpool branch of the business after they’d seized it from the Clayton family, who had been part of the plot to topple their family, a plot which had failed and handed everything to the Maguires and Laws on a platter. They were now the most powerful family in the entire country, even more so than the McVays in Glasgow, the leader of which had once enjoyed holding such sway over them.

  “Finally,” grinned Shane. “You two are like rabbits.”

  Mikey and Jules smiled back at him. They were all relieved that the power he now wielded hadn’t changed who he was.

  Jez leapt in before anyone else could come out with more banter, interrupting Jules, who had opened her mouth to retort with a wicked innuendo.

  The meeting was routine. Thankfully they hadn’t had any more nasty surprises since they’d torn apart their most powerful enemies. Once the meeting was concluded, Jez banged his palm off the table in what had become his customary manner and Mark and Carter left the room to commence the tasks they’d been given.

  “So,” said Jez when they’d gon
e. “How’s everything in Scouseland Shane?”

  “Great,” he smiled, leaning back in his seat and clasping his hands behind his head. “Quiet, profitable.”

  They’d all been impressed by how easily he’d taken over running the Clayton empire. He’d gone in hard and brutal, executing someone in front of the rest of his men to show them the cost of betrayal and it had worked, striking fear immediately into their hearts and quashing any possible insurrection.

  “You’ve done fucking well Squirt,” commented Jules.

  “You’ll never let that nickname go, will you?” he replied with good humour.

  “Sorry,” she said with an impish smile. “I can’t get out of the habit but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a man to be respected because you are. You’ve come so far.”

  “On that we’re all agreed,” said Mikey. “You’ve done so bloody well.”

  “Thank you,” he said, trying not to grin like an idiot. His respect for these people was limitless, they’d put their trust in him, dispensed their considerable wisdom to him and given him a chance he thought no one ever would. No matter what he did he could never repay what they’d done for him.

  “Bur remember,” said Jez. “There’s no shame in asking for help when you need it. We’re still one unit, working together. Thanks to you Liverpool is strong but there’s always some arsehole wanting to chance their arm and take what isn’t theirs. We back each other up.”

  Shane nodded. “It’s good to know you’re here if I need you but there’s been no ructions. I’m keeping a close eye out though.”

  “Good. Glasgow’s come to heel too since we took over Liverpool. Finally Toni doesn’t feel like she can grab us by the balls anymore.”

  “And that’s not a euphemism,” said Jules.

  Toni McVay, sister to the legend that was Frankie McVay enjoyed the quiet life, so her business partners’ frequent wars had finally put them on her shit list, despite the huge amount of money their deal made. It was only the fact that they’d gained Liverpool and finally become stronger than her that meant she hadn’t broken the deal and attacked them. In fact they received much less hassle from her in general and she hadn’t come south of the border in months, to their relief.