Torn Apart

by M A Comley

  CHAPTER TWO

  Hero arrived at work the following morning in a reflective mood. His wife had been so pleased to see him home early the evening before that she had cooked him his favourite meal of fillet steak and chips. They had talked properly about their family and marriage for the first time in ages and then gone to bed and snuggled up in each other’s arms. He hadn’t expected the Hartley case to affect him so much, but it had. He attributed his strange feelings to guilt. The drive home the previous evening had ensured that he thought about his family in depth. Seeing his marriage through his wife’s eyes for a change had made him realise how badly he had treated Fay and Louie. The Hartley case had taught him a major lesson—to cherish what you have, because you really don’t know when or if the things that matter most to you will be snatched away. Life had no guarantees that everything would be hunky dory most of the time. Life was for living and for sharing with loved ones.

  He removed his jacket and placed it on the back of his office chair before he dived headfirst into the sea of post awaiting his attention on his desk.

  A few minutes into Hero’s post-tackling session, Julie Shaw knocked on the door. “Morning, boss. What do you want me to do?”

  He frowned at her. “Everything all right, Julie? You look pissed off about something.”

  She shrugged and glanced out the office window at the high-rise block of flats next door. “It’s Mum. The doc thinks her cancer has come back.” As if saying the words had exhausted her, Julie sank into the chair opposite him.

  “Boy, that’s tough. I’m sorry.”

  “Hopefully, she’ll get through it again, although this is the third time she’s had it in five years. This time, it’s shifted to the liver, apparently. Never mind, didn’t mean to burden you with it, sir. Do you want me to start making enquiries about this gang?”

  “Send your mum my regards. Yes, I’d like you and Foxy to start delving into this gang. Also, can you ask Powell to drop over to McDonald’s to pick up the CCTV footage of the event? I think that’ll give us the evidence we need to bang this gang up.”

  “I’ll get on it right away.” Shaw left the room, and again, Hero contemplated how short life was. Shaw’s news had devastated him for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  He picked up the phone and rang his own mother. He hadn’t spoken with her in months.

  Janet Nelson answered the phone after the third ring. “Hello?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Hi, Mum. Have you been overdoing it again, as usual?”

  “Hero. How wonderful to hear from you. Is everything all right, dear?”

  “It is. I just thought I’d ring to see how you and Dad are. Sorry it’s been so long. The workload around here has been horrendous lately.”

  “I understand, sweetie. Fay told me how hard you’ve been working when she rang me last week. I’m surprised you ringing, dear, seeing that your father and I are coming over for dinner at the weekend.”

  He cringed; he had no idea. Why hadn’t Fay mentioned it? “I’m looking forward to it, Mum. How’s Dad’s hip since the operation?”

  “He’s been running around like a spring lamb. It’s given him a new lease of life, more’s the pity. He’s making me feel my age. I’m finding it a struggle keeping up with him. Don’t tell him that, though.” His mother laughed.

  “He’d better be careful that he doesn’t put pressure on the old hip. Has the doc said if they have any plans to replace the other one in the future?”

  “Lordy, not that I know of. I’ll be sure to pass on the message to slow down, although I think I’ll be talking to myself. I better go now, love. I was in the middle of making some pastry. I thought I might bring over one of my special apple pies for you. How’s that?”

  Saliva filled his dry mouth. His mother’s apple pies had been the talk of the Women’s Institute in her younger days, not that at sixty-two, she could ever be considered as past it. “Sounds fab, Mum. What day are you coming over?”

  “Sunday. Don’t tell me Fay didn’t let you know.”

  “She did tell me. It just slipped my mind. We’ll see you then. I love you, Mum.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, which was eventually filled by the sound of his mother blowing her nose on a tissue. “That’s nice, love. I love you, too. Take care now.”

  The next call Hero made once he’d composed himself again was to the pathologist, Susan.

  “Hi, Susan. It’s Hero. Any news for me yet? Have you carried out the post mortem on the Hartleys?”

  “Hero, I may be a lot of things, but superwoman I ain’t! I’ll be making a start on the mother in an hour or so. Do you want to attend?”

  Hero turned up his lip. “Do you need me to?”

  Susan chuckled. “Wuss, if you’d rather give it a miss, I can call you later with my findings.”

  “Hey, you, less of the insults. You haven’t seen the pile of crap sitting on my desk that I have to wade through.”

  “Hmm…Well it can’t be worse than the pile of crap sitting on my desk.”

  Her quick retort made him back-pedal. “Ah, point taken. I’ve seen your pile of crap, and it’s double the size of mine. You win, hands down.”

  “I usually do, Hero. I’ll call you later.”

  “Always appreciated, Susan. Thanks.”

  Hero hung up and set to work on his mail again. After that, he worked through all the calls he had to make for the day.

  About an hour later, he walked into the outer office to buy a coffee from the machine. He glanced over at the two women he’d assigned to researching the likely gangs in the area. Sally Foxley—or Foxy, as she was known—was talking with Julie and gesticulating wildly.

  “Everything all right over there?” He picked up the steaming polystyrene cup and wandered over to their desks.

  “If, I repeat if, this is the same gang we think it is, then we’re in trouble,” Julie said.

  “Why’s that?” Hero asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “We think, and at this stage, it’s only an assumption, that the gang is the Krull Gang.”

  Hero frowned. “Why do I recognise that name?”

  “They’re trouble with a capital T.”

  “Ah, it’s all coming back now. They rule the Brickfields Estate, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “That’s the one, sir,” Foxley said, shaking her head and looking frustrated. “They get away with murder at times. Usually get the lesser gang members to take the rap for them, at least that’s the word on the street.”

  If anyone should know about gang activity, Foxley should, because her other half was in the Vice Squad, and very little got past its team. “Any chance you can find out a bit more about them from Frank, Foxy?”

  She picked up the phone on her desk. “Yep, right away.”

  “Okay, so has Powell returned with the CCTV footage yet?” Hero asked Julie. Before she could answer, the portly sergeant barged through the entrance, with a tape in his hand.

  “Is this what you’re looking for, sir?”

  Hero and Julie followed Powell over to the TV in the corner. Powell inserted the tape into the machine, and the three of them watched the events unfold in stunned silence.

  After the car had driven over Saskia Hartley and her son, one of the gang members got out of the car to check the bodies, then he used spray paint to block out his image on the camera. But it was too late. Julie had recognised Jez Barrett immediately. “He’s definitely a member of the Krull Gang.”

  “Okay, get his address. We’ll go and have a word, Sergeant.”

  Shaw hesitated for a moment or two before she walked away from Hero and Powell.

  “I don’t think you going to see him will prove very fruitful, sir,” Powell stated, wrinkling his nose.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This gang have people in authority watching their backs. At least, that’s how it looks to me.”

  Confused, Hero asked, “Come on, Powell, let’s have it.” />
  Powell drew in a heavy breath and eased back onto the edge of the desk behind him. “I’d have to check into the details first, but from what I remember, the gang was busted for something major a couple of years back. However, a well-paid brief managed to get them off. This estate they run has been earmarked as a no-go area by the police.”

  “You’re bloody joking, right?”

  “No, sir. Most of the gang have anti-social behaviour orders against them. Every time they’re hauled up in front of a judge, they’re handed down a community sentence instead of a prison term. What kind of deterrent is that?”

  “Well it’s not, is it? And you believe it’s because this gang has friends high up. Is that what you’re implying, Powell?”

  The balding sergeant nodded. “Yep, sums it up nicely, sir. All we have to do is find a way of catching these guys out. I can’t see any point going in there all guns blazing and hauling Barrett in for questioning.”

  “What? So you’re telling me that you think this gang should get away with this heinous crime? Are you insane, man?”

  “No, sir.” Powell hoisted his large frame off the desk and threw his arms out to the side. “But I assure you, there will be little you can do to bring this gang in.” He turned and made his way back to his own desk.

  The past half an hour had made Hero wonder if he’d been out of the loop for the past several months. He knew he’d been distracted by his heavy workload and things at home, but thinking that his staff apparently knew more than he did about this gang and their activities bothered him. He feared if word got back to the superintendent, his job would be on the line.

  He decided to rejoin Shaw and Foxley to go over the gang’s records. The list of offences turned out to be longer than the Nile, which left Hero scratching his head. What the fuck? How is this gang able to get away with this? Discouraged, he tapped Shaw on the shoulder. “Come on, get your coat. We’re going to take a ride out there.” He could tell by Shaw’s face that she wasn’t happy about his plan. After they’d made their way to the door, he asked her, “Are you all right with this, or would you rather I take Powell with me?”

  Shaw thrust her shoulders back and puffed out her chest. “Nope, I’m fine, sir. Let’s get it over with.”

  They drove to the Brickfields Estate on the other side of town, just on the outskirts of Salford, Manchester, where only a year or two before, the boarded-up houses were selling for just under £10,000 each. For mid-morning, the streets appeared to be reasonably quiet. Admittedly, the kids would have been at school on a Friday. Or would they? “Have the kids broken up for the summer holidays yet?”

  Shaw shrugged. “How should I know? I ain’t got any ankle biters of my own. You have, though. Has Louie broken up yet?”

  Ah touché! He was ashamed that he didn’t have the answer to her question. “Umm…I’m not sure. Wasn’t that why Saskia Hartley was picking her son up, end of term?”

  “Yeah, but he was at boarding school. Not sure how they compare to the schools in the real world. Isn’t each area different?”

  Hero cringed. Shaw was right. He was the one with the child, albeit a stepchild, not her.

  He should’ve known if Louie was at school or not. He took out his mobile and rang home. “Hi, Fay. Can’t talk long. Is Louie at school today?”

  “Hero? What the heck do you mean? What’s happened?”

  He could hear the fear making her voice tremble and kicked himself for causing her unnecessary worry. “Didn’t mean to worry you, hon. I just wondered when the kids broke up. That’s all.”

  “Damn you, Hero, why didn’t you ask that in the first place. I thought something had happened to Louie. He breaks up this afternoon.”

  “Okay, thanks, Fay. See you later.” His wife didn’t even bother to say goodbye to him before she hung up. Hero glanced over at Shaw, who was shaking her head. “What?”

  “Men. You never think, do you?”

  “Bloody hell, don’t you start. So I approached it the wrong way, big deal,” Hero said, exasperated.

  Shaw ignored his comment and looked out the windscreen at the street, which looked like a ghost town. Suddenly, she pointed to a big stone heading their way. “Get down,” she called out.

  Both detectives ducked their heads into each other’s laps. Hero heard the windscreen crack.

  “Is it safe to look up now do you think?” Shaw asked.

  Tentatively, Hero unfurled and peeped out the windscreen. He was taken aback by what he saw. Standing in front of his car were four youths in hooded jumpers, all with their arms folded across their chests, just eyeballing him. Hero reached for the handle on the door, but Shaw’s stopped him.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sir.”

  “What? These punks don’t scare me—” Before he could say anything else, two of the youths bent down and picked up two large metal bars. They ran at the car and began pounding the bonnet. Hero started the engine and slammed the car in reverse. He looked in his rear-view mirror to see the youths laughing at him and giving him the finger.

  “That was a close one,” Shaw muttered.

  “You’re telling me. They’re fucking psychos.”

  “Now do you understand what we’re dealing with?”

  Hero nodded. “It’s beginning to sink in, yes. The question is what the bloody hell are we going to do about it?”

  “Apart from go in with CO19, I’m not sure.”

  Shaw laughed nervously, but Hero was lost in thought. Hmm…maybe going in with an armed response team might be the answer they were looking for to tackle this unruly gang. “Either that or water cannons. Now there’s a thought! Do you know anyone in the anti-hooliganism squad?”

  Shaw shook her head. “In all seriousness, we’ve got to combat them somehow, sir.”

  “We have indeed, Sergeant. Maybe it will be a matter of joining forces with some of the other teams. We need to get these guys off the street before they kill anyone else. That doesn’t mean that I’m not going to try and talk to this bastard Jez, though. The question is how? This gang probably eat, sleep, and shag together.”

  Shaw let out a long sigh. “Don’t expect me to come up with an idea. You’re the DI.”

  “Maybe so, but you’re my partner, Shaw, and this job is supposed to be about teamwork, got it?”

  They drove back to the station in silence. Hero stopped off at reception and handed his keys over to the desk sergeant. “Can you sort me out another car, Harry? Some thugs just used mine for target practice.”

  Harry’s usually stern face brightened into a large smile. “That’ll teach you to stick your nose in where it isn’t wanted, sir.”

  Hero gave him a warning glance that was attached to a grunt, then turned on his heel. He headed back up the stairs, his mind full of ‘what ifs’ regarding how to proceed with the case.

  After viewing the McDonald’s CCTV footage several more times, Hero rang the manager.

  “Mr. Lawson, it’s DI Nelson. I appreciate you letting us have a copy of the CCTV footage of the crime. I was wondering if you had any internal cameras at the restaurant? A spy camera, maybe, for keeping an eye on the staff?”

  “Sorry, no. Although the amount of times money goes missing out of the till, I think we should have,” Lawson replied grumpily, before adding, “Have you caught those bastards yet?”

  “Er no…not yet.”

  “Can I ask why you wanted to know if there was another camera inside the building?” Lawson asked.

  “I like to cover every angle on a case. I guess we’ll get the full picture when your staff give us their statements. Is it still all right for me to send out a couple of uniformed officers this afternoon?”

  “Of course. I’ll make sure one of the offices is cleared up for them.”

  “Thanks, that’s appreciated. I’ll get in touch if there’s anything else I can think of to ask you.”

  Hero hung up, and his hand was still attached to the phone when it rang again.

  “DI N
elson. How can I help?”

  “Patch, it’s Susan. I have the post results on the Hartleys. Would you like to go through them in person or over the phone?”

  “Over the phone, if you don’t mind, Susan.” Hero picked up a pen and scrabbled around on his desk, looking for a clean sheet of paper to jot down notes on.

  “Okay, I’ll start with the boy first. As the clothes to his upper body were ripped, I began there. He had contusions across his whole upper torso as though he’d been beaten with something, although that doesn’t account for his ripped clothes.”

  Hero interrupted her. “The staff are giving us their statements today. The lad at the scene was a little cagey about what went on inside the restaurant. I’ll see if uniform can get any further details for us.”

  “Okay, he could be the type who bruises easily, though, so maybe you shouldn’t waste too much time on that side of things. His mother, however, is a different matter entirely.”

  “Let’s hear it? You’ve already intimated that a further crime was carried out on her. I hope it’s not what I’m thinking.”

  Susan let out a huge sigh. “If you think she was raped, then yes, you thought right. I lifted her skirt at the scene and saw that she was wearing no panties. I assumed there and then that the poor woman had been raped. Additional tests proved my assumption to be correct.”

  “Bastards! Although I’m not surprised from what we’ve found out about the gang already and after viewing the CCTV footage of how the mother and son were mown down. I’ll get a copy of the tape made for you. It’ll help substantiate your evidence. You do know that the car reversed over them, don’t you?” Hero stated gloomily.

  “I figured as much. Send the copy over. It’ll be good to piece things together. Although, like I said, I presumed pretty much that was what had happened because of the tread marks on the mother’s face and skull. That’s about it, Patch. I’ve sewn them up. Ready for the husband to identify their bodies. He’s due in this evening around six p.m.”