A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2)

by Edward Holmes

  “Did you see Morrison then?”

  “No, he wasn’t there when we arrived.”

  “And he was definitely the shooter?” I really wanted them to answer if he was a good shot or not.

  This time when they looked at each other there was doubt on both faces and when Dom answered his head was bowed, “Tom’s admitted it, they’ve got nothing other than that so hopefully something will happen and he gets out. Other than that he knows what he is doing makes things easier for us.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “If they don’t find a shooter, especially if it’s a young kid who gets it, Matrix comes down hard on all of us. Busies busting down doors and stopping people in the streets. Tom by copping to it keeps them all quiet. Takes a couple of weeks maybe a month but they don’t bang down our door anymore,” Alex explained to me.

  “Could someone else have pulled that trigger? I mean that shot seems pretty good from distance in the back of the head.”

  Alex shifted uncomfortably under my gaze as he was sat directly opposite me, “I suppose someone else could’ve killed him.”

  Dom looked shocked his friend had said that but he didn’t argue that it wasn’t true instead he nodded and said, “Everyone in the Warriors knows where to get a gun and when to use it. No one is coming into Elsworth looking to cause trouble and getting away with it.”

  “But it was a pretty impressive shot to hit him from distance.”

  I wasn’t expecting Alex laughing at that, “You think that’s good, you should see my kills on COD.”

  Dom started laughing as well and they started bumping into each other. I smiled at them and nodded, I knew they were talking about a video game so I just let them get their childish side out. It did however last longer than I thought possible, which led me to speak first, “I take it you guys don’t go for the sneaky execution shots?”

  “Nah man, you want some difficulty like with the Boulton shot. Those scumbags from Raky don’t have any honour like that, they shot our boys like they were dogs. There’s a time and a place for kills like that and they knew their boy stepped over the line and anything that happened to him was fair,” Dom continued.

  “Sounds like you guys are surprised they came over here from Rakspeath.”

  Both men nodded, Alex spoke first, “You can’t know what they’d do; they’re all dogs.”

  “Rapists and scum, they should’ve backed down. Things are gonna get worse for them and they’ll say it was our fault but they started this. Three of our guys have been shot to the one of theirs. Payback is on its way,” Dom said with an eerie finality.

  Chapter Ten

  Sitting in my car I was optimistic about clearing Thomas Morrison before the end of the week. I had finished jotting down notes that I didn’t feel comfortable writing in front of Dom and Alex and put their contact numbers next to their names for future reference. The enticement of money had given me two very willing contacts but of what use they could be to me at that moment I couldn’t think.

  No, I had a much more important individual to call and I drove out of Elsworth till I felt a little more secure. I drove to a fast food car park and took out my phone and scrolled through the numbers. The man I intended to call was the Major Richard Higgins retired; a man I had known for a number of years and I must admit one of the most intimidating figures I had ever met. Not that he was aggressive or off putting with me, no he was a very kind and interesting man. It was just that I, like most men who have ever had the good fortune to be introduced to him, felt inadequate.

  Richard Higgins had served with distinction in Her Majesty’s armed forces as an infantry officer, working his way up the ranks from squaddie to Major. He could have started at Sandhurst such was his upbringing but he decided against it, wanting to see some of the world. After finishing his commission he decided to continue his travels and returned to England to take up a position at one of the most respected universities to study Middle Eastern history and then afterwards economics and politics. I’d not spoken to him in some time, probably over two years, but he had been busy; recently he had sent me three new books he had written, as he always did with his latest works.

  He was intelligent, well travelled, multilingual, athletic and connected, which I suppose made him an excellent person to know but he had two flaws that made me question making the call to him. Those imperfections were hardly fair and from another set of eyes they most definitely would be regarded as signs of perfection. You see Richard was devilishly handsome and possessed a remarkable amount of charisma. He was one of those friends that you didn’t want to introduce to your wife, girlfriend or anyone you knew of the female gender. In comparison you always looked the lesser man, hell I wouldn’t introduce him to male friends because he could make everyone in that room feel about a foot tall.

  The reluctance I had in calling him was however offset by the feeling that I could solve the case and get paid. Higgins was my man for all things firearms and I knew he would be willing to help me, that being another one of his flaws, an actual interest in people. Calling the number, I sat back and closed my eyes as the phone rang.

  “Hello Richard Higgins speaking, how may I help you?” his voice was warm and accommodating and I found myself trying to hate him despite it. The man was just too charming and it rubbed me the wrong way after years of being treated like crap.

  “Rich it’s John Harper.”

  “Harpsichord old fellow how are you? Long time no speak. Sorry I didn’t recognise the number, new phone and all, you know how it is.”

  I caught myself smiling at the nickname he had given me and then shook my head, “I’m fine Rich, just muddling on. How are things with you? I’m surprised I’ve managed to catch you in this country.”

  “Oh I’m back in Blighty for the foreseeable future. Got some work over here consulting, so it is a rarity I leave now.”

  “You never would tell me what you do.”

  He laughed down the phone at me, “John I’m a consultant, I consultant on things. Oh by the way; congratulations on solving those murders in Hollingswood. I read it online the other month when they finally found that poor girl’s body in the tunnels, all round top job.”

  “It was nothing mate, just doing what they paid me for, Rich.”

  “I take it from that statement that you have finally left the police force.”

  I wasn’t surprised he picked up on that throw away comment and wanted to kick myself for not stopping myself, “Yeah, finally time to get out on my own.”

  “That’s brilliant news my friend, you know all too well that I’ve been trying to get you in my game for years. If you want I can put you in touch with a number of people and we can get you doing some private security work right away.”

  “And you know, Rich, that I wouldn’t call you to help me get a job. I’ve only left recently and can make do at the moment. No, I was ringing because I need some of that expert knowledge of yours.”

  “You make me sound like some sort of search engine, John. I am, however, your humble servant and will do my best to help you in any way I can.”

  See, there was no way to hate the guy; he was just so accommodating, “Right well there has been a shooting in Liverpool and I was wondering if you could help me run down some leads I have.”

  “Liverpool, you say. Is it something to do with those gang shootings? You don’t want to be getting mixed up in any of that stuff, it’s bad news.”

  “Unfortunately I’ve got a debt to pay to an old friend which means I’ve got to get involved.”

  “So what do you need?”

  “Just some info on shooters and gunmen. I want to know the likelihood that a street punk can pull of a head shot with a replica gun made to fire live ammunition. I don’t know the exact range but you’re looking at fifty yards plus.”

  “How do you know it was a replica?”

  “I don’t at the moment but I wanted to start from the most difficult premise first. Obviously the shoot could
have used a better gun but I’d doubt that they would spend a fortune on a weapon since they are traceable.”

  “Well then I can answer all of the questions unless they had a specialist hunting pistol I doubt that someone could have made that shot with that accuracy to kill a man. Obviously that would be a relatively easy shot for a rifle.”

  I nodded to myself pleased that my weapons expert had come to the same conclusion as I had, “Thanks Richard, I just wanted that cleared up.”

  “No worries at all my friend, in fact I think I can help you out further. If you’re still in Liverpool tomorrow, I’ll pick you up and we can do a little more investigating.”

  When someone offers you help like that generally the first thing you do is jump at the chance, and I’m not one to draw out an investigation for monetary means but an evening in the company of Richard Higgins was not something I really wanted to do, “So you’re in the area?”

  “I can be, don’t worry John, it will be fun, I’ll ring you tomorrow to sort out times. See you soon, John.”

  Before I could even speak he had hung up and I was left cursing the good fortune of knowing such a man.

  Chapter Eleven

  I found myself driving to the scene of the second shooting after getting off the phone to Richard. I could say that it was part of my investigation into clearing Morrison, since there was obviously some sort of connection; however it is much more likely it was my own morbid sense of curiosity. Having been involved in homicide investigations for the past couple of years, I was more than naturally curious about such incidents. Shootings are not as much of a rarity as you’d think, and in areas like the one I was in, if someone isn’t injured the likelihood is that any gunfire just won’t be reported.

  The scene of the crime was still busy, with cordoned off areas and a plastic tent blocking off the publics’ view. I left my car down the road and walked towards the small crowd. Considering it was after lunch and that the shootings had happened the night before I was surprised at the amount of people out. News vans lined the streets as I sauntered down the road with my trusty baseball cap on, keeping my head low and watching what was going on.

  I wanted to have a look without any distractions but after recent events in Hollingswood, which was a Merseyside suburb, I was unfortunate enough to be spotted by Camille Jarvis, journalist for the Liverpool Echo and blogger on the site The Frogmarch. She had covered the murder enquiry in the paper and then had written what I considered conspiracy theories online under the screen name of Richard Roe. It had caused quite a stir and there were some things written on it that bordered on libellous. Lucky for me I had my resident computer expert who found out who she was and shut the website down with a particularly nasty virus. That had prompted a discussion with the woman and we came to an amicable arrangement.

  Amicable it may have been but I didn’t really want to see her or for her to see me. I heard her calling my name and I did my best to avoid her in the small crowd but she caught my arm and pulled me back, “John Harper, I thought it was you.”

  I smiled politely, “Camille, how are you?”

  She looked far too happy to see me and that was unfortunate for me since I have a weakness for attractive women smiling in my general direction. She was tall and blonde which created another problem for me since I had history with women with that hair colour. I knew from our past encounters that she had a stunning body but it was covered up today with a thick black polo neck jumper underneath a grey trenchcoat. With that beaming grin on her pretty face she replied, “So much the better for seeing you. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

  “Just passing through and my morbid sense of curiosity got the better of me. I thought I’d come and have a look at what all the commotion is about.”

  “And why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you are naturally suspicious. I thought this sort of stuff was beneath you now, aren’t you supposed to be covering the glitz and glamour of z-list soap celebrities?” I couldn’t help teasing her since I knew Camille hated the supposed promotion within the local newspaper. She wanted to be considered a proper journalist and going to the VIP nightclub parties of those people was against her natural inclination for a story. The blog was, however, overzealous in its reporting.

  “Yeah well, they’re all still in bed so I thought I’d do some real work. It’s very interesting seeing you here, have the local police asked for your particular expertise?”

  I shook my head; sometimes she read far too much into things, “What expertise would that be?”

  “You know; criminal profiling and dealing with serial killers. I doubt there are many people in the country with your knowledge, John,” she said in a way that was all compliment and I was flattered by a young woman speaking to me, even if I did know she was buttering me up.

  “True, but this is a gang shooting. Nothing to do with a serial killer and profiling young thugs isn’t exactly the best use of my talents, is it?”

  Camille pursed her luscious red lips, “Well that is if it is just the work of street gangs.”

  I knew I’d regret asking what she meant but I did anyway, “What are you getting at, Camille?”

  “This could be the work of a new serial killer in Liverpool,” she answered in a totally deadpan manner.

  No longer in the police, I could deal with fools when I found them and I rolled my eyes at her, “Just more of your ‘investigative journalism’ sweetheart? This is a gang war.”

  Her face had soured somewhat and I was worried I had really upset her when she spoke, “I thought you were supposed to be the expert, John. This shooting, coupled with the one last week, doesn’t make any sense from a business perspective for the gangs. With the winter months making sales lean surely a war would be the last thing they would want.”

  We’d walked away from the crowd but the laughter those words elicited caused people to look in our direction, “You’re joking, right? Seriously these kind of hoodlums don’t think that way. Their rivalries are based on random feuds started in school or some other place.”

  “John, I don’t think anyone has said hoodlum this millennium; you are showing your age.”

  I’ll admit that one hurt a little but I folded my arms and stood resolute, “Yeah well, it fits. This looks like a revenge hit to me.”

  “Okay John, look at it this way. The two gangs have never had a death between them from gunfire. There have been skirmishes for the past couple of years and that has always been about fists and blades. Why would they escalate to guns now? It is my belief that there is another shooter here trying to spark something of a gang war.”

  “Camille, my dear, spending time with those actors has got you creating elaborate stories. They are using guns more because they are easier to get hold of now. I’ve heard as much from a number of these gang members.”

  “Then what about the other shootings?”

  “What shootings?”

  She looked around and then lowered her voice, “There’s a lot more going on here than the police would like you to think. How about I tell you about it over dinner?”

  Now I knew that I should just turn her down and get back to my investigations but really I didn’t have much to work with other than waiting for Richard to pick me up the next day so I accepted, “Ok it’s a date but you’re putting it on expenses.”

  “I suppose I owe you that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Since I was meeting Camille in Liverpool I decided to get myself a hotel room for the night. I didn’t go for an expensive place, just somewhere accessible with a secure car park. She’d left not long after asking me out and I’d had the opportunity to have a little perusal of the site. There was nothing much to see and the crowd of gawkers offered few additions to the information already available on the radio and internet. I didn’t think it was important but I suppose it had gotten me a free meal with an attractive woman.

  Using the wireless internet in the hotel I did a quick search, finding ou
t that hardly any shootings in the area were carried out with a rifle, which didn’t surprise me. Rifles were large weapons used for long range shooting, invariably any killing on these streets would be up close and personal, which lent itself to the pistol or sawn off shotgun.

  I was certain now though that the killing shot had been made by a rifle which left me in an awkward position. I didn’t want to get Sheila Morrison’s hopes up by telling her I might have a lead in her son’s case so decided against telling her what I had learnt that day. It was difficult to do so but if I was wrong about this she would be unduly upset and I hated the thought of that. There was also the danger of not getting paid and a nagging voice in my head told me that I still had rent to pay on the office that month.

  Sitting on the overly soft mattress I rang my friend Rodney. I’d met him in Hollingswood but he travelled all over the county putting on bets. Some people, hell most people I had met disliked the man because of his rude and loud behaviour. I on the other hand found him amusing; it is a rarity in life to find someone who can simultaneously antagonise and provide such entertainment. I’d gone into business with him when the independent bookmakers had finally paid me my impressive amount of winnings. That money had gone towards a number of racing dogs and their upkeep and I was hoping to see some return soon.

  The conversation was short and remarkably loud; Rodney, like a vast majority of his generation, had a problem understanding how good the microphone on mobile technology was these days as he shouted to me as if I was the other side of a football stadium. He assured me that we would be having a very good winner later that week and I should be smart about where I put on my money so we still get a good price. Delighted with the news I showered and dressed for my evening meal with Camille.

  Wearing a black suit and white shirt, maybe the height of boring apparel but I thought I looked good. I wanted to look my best for Camille; even though she was a pain in the arse she knew more about the area than I did and she was an asset for me to use at the moment.