I fell asleep to the rolling reports on the news channels about the increased police presence in the Elsworth area and how this was one of the worst shootings in the history of the country. When I woke up the television was still on and the same pictures scrolled past. I showered and looked at the bruises on my torso and legs. My shins, which Micky had targeted, were a deep shade of purple and heavily swollen. I was regretting not staying in the hotel room and just icing my body after the fight.
My mother, when I was growing up, swore by a set of medicines and it was her belief that aspirin could cure any ailment. I swallowed a couple of pills with a glass of water whilst I waited for the kettle to boil but I didn’t expect them to help the throbbing pain in my legs.
Sitting on the bed I raised the volume on the television. It appeared that there had been a break in the case in the form of shell casings being found. Everything seemed to be getting out of control in Liverpool and I felt myself being drawn further into a large investigation. Someone using a rifle had killed Boulton, I was certain of that, and now there had been a mass killing with the same sort of weapon. In such a close community and in such a manner, it suggested that it was the same shooter even if the modus operandi was different.
The television cut to a police spokesman stood in front of a blue large screen with unit badges on it and with a table with microphones before him. I listened intently as the Chief Constable stated that the local force was to increase their presence yet again. They could confirm that this shooting was carried out by a rifle and were also looking into the registered owners of weapons that fired 7.62x39 millimetre ammunition. Now as I’ve stated I am no expert in guns but I do know that the AK-47 fires that sort of bullet. Before I could even dial his number Rich was ringing me.
“Have you seen the news this morning?”
“Morning Rich, yes I have.”
“I’ve got to say mate; this looks like the work of Ambrose from the gun club if you ask me.”
I nodded but still had reservations, “We don’t know anything about the man. He could be completely innocent.”
“True but they said they found casing on the scene that matched a 7.62x39 millimetre round which is the same fired by his CZ. I think we should go pay him a visit see if he is involved. Maybe if we question him just right he’ll cop for the Boulton shooting as well.”
It was strange to hear Rich talk in such a rushed and essentially giddy manner since he was usually very relaxed but I got the feeling it showed how much he wanted to help. What worried me was I had no idea what he meant when he said ‘question him just right’. I wasn’t above using violence to get information especially now that I wasn’t shackled to upholding the law but Rich had a murky past which suggested he knew ways of making people talk that troubled even my sensibilities, “I hate to say it, Rich, but it may just be better calling in the police on this one especially if he is armed. Not like we want to go knocking down doors unarmed when they are owned by gun nuts.”
Rich was silent for a moment, “True, but I think we should still look into this guy it’s too much of a coincidence. If the case isn’t there he might not admit to shooting Boulton which leaves your boy still inside.”
I hate to admit it but he was right. If Leo Ambrose was the shooter he had no reason to admit to another shooting, he would be serving the rest of his life in prison anyway. There was the possibility he would say it was him for the notoriety but that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take, “Rich, I’m going to see someone this morning that might be of some use in the case. I’ll make a couple calls as well and if I haven’t made any progress by lunch time in the investigation we’ll go round and have a word with Ambrose.”
“Sounds like a plan my friend. I’ll make sure I’m ready. Speak to you soon.”
When he hung up I was left wondering what he meant by be ready. Sometimes having people like Rich in my life was just too much excitement.
Chapter Twenty Two
Dressed in blue suit with a crisp light blue shirt, I set off for the community centre that Fraser had told me Matthew Thompson would be at. On the way I held up my end of the bargain to Rich and made a call to Detective Inspector Frank Spencer on my hands free kit in the car, always aware of the safety of other drivers on the road.
“I honestly don’t believe you are calling me, Harper.”
“Spencer, how you doing?”
“Usually better for not talking to you. I heard you left the force so I take it this is just a social call and if it is let me hang up right now and save you the breath.”
“I helped make your name Frankie, you’d think you would be more grateful. I heard they moved you back into the city helping bring down the real criminals now. Is that a good or a bad thing?” it was a fine line I walked with Spencer, he didn’t like me but he did respect that I was a good detective. He had come under a lot of flak for his dealing with the Hollingswood homicides but I gave him a lot of the credit in the after action reports since I was technically off duty and just in the village for a holiday. The press division had loved having two hero officers from two different areas working together to solve a set of murders and rescuing a young woman. It also helped that when she was brought out of the tunnel he was seen carrying her in an excellent photo opportunity.
“My life is never dull now, Harper,” he said with a tone in his voice that sounded weary.
“Well how about I make it a little quieter for you and help out with the recent shootings in Elsworth?”
“We don”t hire civilians and we don’t have the department of retirees you do in Manchester.”
Spencer wanted me to tell him my real reason for helping; I knew that so would play his little game, “It was going to be an early Christmas present for you. I know a couple of riflemen in the area and they seem to think that there is a guy you should be looking at for the shooter.”
“And you’re willing to just give me his name?”
“It’s an area of enquiry isn’t it?”
“More importantly how the hell do you know riflemen in the area?” Spencer asked.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, “I do have friends, Spencer.”
“Not from what I can tell.”
“So are you going to look into this name or what?”
The silence ticked over and I knew that he didn’t want to accept my help, “I won’t make any promises but I’ll see what we’ve got on the man.”
“Well I hope it helps, I’m pretty sure this shooter has been around for awhile,” I said aiming it as a throwaway comment and it just caught his attention.
“Harper, what are you getting at? Have you been speaking to Camille Jarvis?”
I was a bit surprised that he asked about the journalist but he had read her reports over the Hollingswood case just as much as I had, considering his name was being used, “Camille? No, why do you ask?”
Spencer sighed, “I’ve had her asking questions insinuating that there is some assassin or something working n the city bumping off drug dealers.”
“Sounds like one of her usual conspiracy theories. Let me guess; there is some hidden kingpin in the background that no one has ever heard of or seen.”
“Oh no, not this time. She’s managed to pick out a real life drug dealer who we have never been able to get anything on. I’ve had to warn her if she keeps going down that road she could end up in hot water with this guy.”
“Well I don’t know about any kingpin or assassin but I’ve been keeping the old detective mind sharp and all, Spencer, and I’m leaning in the direction of a rifle shooter in the Boulton shooting.”
Again there was a silence, “I’ve met the Morrison kid, Harper. He admitted to it. Open and shut case on that one.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Maybe you are seeing more to it than there is.”
“Last time I did that I saved a girl’s life.”
Spencer sighed, exasperated with me, “And you’ll never let me forget that, will you?”
“Well we never had anyone even suggest that there was a rifle used at the scene of the Boulton shooting.”
“Did you find any casings or even the bullet?”
“No we didn’t. The likelihood is the bullet flew off at an untraceable trajectory. On the other hand, a lot of the shootings around here are carried out with revolvers which keep the casing inside. When we picked up the Morrison boy we found a revolver.”
I rubbed my jaw thinking for a moment, “Any gun powder residue?”
“Nothing we could find but that’s no surprise; likelihood is he got rid of the clothes and gloves he was wearing. As for the shooting at the football pitches we’ve had people calling in saying they saw a rifle being fired from the house across the street and that is where we found the casings.”
One of things I liked about Spencer was that in his aim of getting more information he tended to give you what you wanted to know. I’d seen a lot of it before the trial and even before that when he was questioning Martin Wills, one of the suspects in the Hollingswood case. It was a common trait, people tend not to like silence and Spencer is very much a person who wants you to know how clever he is. He also didn’t like me for the same reason but I’m just a little better at keeping my mouth shut…usually, “Oh well, that’s useful. It’s always good when the community come forward to help. Brave as well if there is a nefarious kingpin involved who could punish them for speaking out.”
“It was anonymous.”
“Even better then. Check out that name, Spencer; I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed. And try and keep an open mind on the Boulton shooting.”
“Harper I don’t know why the hell you are getting involved but I’ve got a funny feeling that I will be hearing from you again.”
“Aww guess you miss me then.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Pulling up outside the centre, I wasn’t surprised to see the state of disrepair it was in. The roads had been busy with police cars and patrols so I felt a little safer parking my car on the street as the small car park for the centre was full. I was still sore getting out of the vehicle and did my best not to limp as I walked inside the building.
From the stonework outside and the tall ceilings it was easy to see that the building was a converted church. However it was a long time since it had been used as a house of worship, with no visible signs of the Lord on the walls or windows. Once inside the foyer there was that musty wooden smell that you often find with building that age and I was greeted by a notice board covered with flyers for teams and meetings.
A couple of years ago when I went off the deep end with my drinking I was told it was in my interest to go to places like the one I was stood in for help with my addiction. It was a not so subtle way of forcing me to go to meetings and I will admit I did briefly entertain the notion. As such I wasn’t the biggest fan of organised groups with the word anonymous in the title but I did see their use.
There were two doors either side of the main double door which led to a large open area, I didn’t bother with them and walked inside the centre. Spaced out were three table tennis tables, two pool tables and a settee. Young men and women laughed, joking at each other’s expense as they played the games and reclined on the furniture. One man stood out, he was older than the teenagers but not yet thirty. He had seemed to permanently have a smile on his face as he moved around the groups. Just smaller than me and with a stocky frame, in another place he would seem intimidating but there he just seemed welcoming. His hair was shaven short and nearly covered the line of scar on his head. When he saw me the smile froze for a second and shortened just perceptibly, “Detective, how can I help you?”
I wasn’t surprised that he thought I was a cop. I’d spent years undercover not being seen as one and now I’d left the force everyone and their son picked me out, “Are you Mister Matthew Thompson?”
“Yes, what seems to be the problem? One of the kids cause some trouble?” Thompson said with a resigned note in his voice as if it was something he was used to saying.
“I’m here looking for some information. Do you mind if I have a word in private?”
“I’m the designated supervisor for this group so I can’t leave them unsupervised in here. We can go talk over in the corner away from prying ears though.”
“Sure,” I said as Thompson indicated to another care worker to watch over the group and walked with me to one side.
He was dressed in light blue shirt with black trousers and comfortable looking trainers; up close I could see dark brown eyes and a thin layer of stubble. Thompson watched me closely, much like the fighters had in the gym, as if expecting me to make a sudden move at anytime.
“So what do you want to talk about?” he said, folding his arms.
I offered a short smile, “Just some information on the kids around here. With all these recent shootings it helps to know what to expect.”
“Yeah well I can see you’re not used to the area. What are you, some new guy trying to help with the figures?” my accent was a hindrance trying to find information in the area and I wasn’t confident in changing it to mix with theirs. The Scouse inflection was something that the people were fiercely proud of and its unique collaboration of other provincialisms made it difficult to accurately mimic. I’d perfected an Irish voice for myself whilst undercover and that was one of the ingredients in the social melting pot that had created the tone of Liverpool but it wasn’t enough for me to feel confident that I could convince these people I was one of them.
“I’m not here to massage any figures or to change any plans you have here. I’m just looking for information to help out. I was told by Max Fraser that you know these streets and the kids on them very well and that you would be the best person to talk to.”
Thompson set his jaw and shifted his body weight just enough that he was no longer looking at the group of youths but was now between me and them. To be honest I was impressed that he cared that much, “If Fraser told you that then you aren’t with the police. You might look it but there is no way that old warhorse would ever let a copper into his place. So tell me who are you?”
“You’re sort of right. My name is John Harper; I am a retired DI who still works for the force in Manchester as a consultant of sorts. I’m here looking into the shootings as a favour to a friend. I’ve got experience in gang warfare and killings like this so he thought it would be worth me having a look around. Like you said I don’t really fit in here but I am trying to help.”
“Harper did you say?” Thompson asked. I merely nodded, “is that the same Harper who rescued that girl out in Hollingswood?”
I nodded again, “Not my usual thing I can assure you.”
“No don’t get me wrong from what I can remember you saved her life and risked yours. You even stared down a gunman of your own,” his shoulders relaxed slightly as he recalled the story. I was hoping it would all be forgotten but it had been national news at the time and scandals tend to stay around longer than simple cases.
“Again not what I usually do, I mean who would willingly put themselves in front of a gun that often?” I asked jokily.
Thompson smiled and just nodded, “Unfortunately I have some experience of it working here.”
I felt awkward but laughed to ease the tension, “Sorry about that.”
“Just one of the perks of the job. It’s not often that we get trouble these days but it happens. More likely someone brings in a knife or decides to smack someone with a pool cue,” he said, instinctively rubbing the scar on his head.
“Strange job to choose.”
“Yeah guess it is. I was luckier than a lot of these kids. I grew up with a loving family far away from what it is like here. I went to a good school and even went to university bu
t when I came back to my home city I knew I had to make a difference. My first night back after I graduated I was mugged, I got called a southern fairy and had my wallet and phone nicked. I had a job lined up with the council and started there, couple of years in I moved into the social services side of things. This centre didn’t exist when I started up and I’ve fought all the way to keep it funded through all these budget cuts but it helps.”
I looked at the kids as they enjoyed themselves, “It’s very noble of you.”
“I don’t do it to be noble. These are my people Mister Harper and I want what is best for them. So if you are here to help then I’ll do my very best to aid you in your cause.”
“I appreciate it. Fraser said that you would be my best bet in tracking down the recent shooters.”
“There lies one of the big problems. This centre is new and I’m getting a lot of kids off the streets and in here but if they are a certain age then I’m at a loss to help,” Thompson wrung his hands in frustration, “You should see the truancy numbers for the local schools, some kids just don’t want to learn. I get them in here they might do something productive. It takes time but some of them go back to school or occasionally we get people in to help teach them a trade.”
“But if they are used to standing out on the street drinking with the groups then they stick to it?”
He nodded, “It’s a tough cycle for them to get out of to be honest. You’ll see it generationally as well. If their brothers worked for the gang then they will.”
“Do you have any luck getting them out of the gangs?”
“It is a rarity. You can get them away from the others but you can’t get them away from the culture. That’s the thing there might not be people related to the gangs as such but there are still people dealing and taking drugs. You don’t have to be in a crew to get a gun and that spells a whole lot of trouble.”
I was beginning to see how much of a problem it was for the local community and how dangerous this investigation could be. I could ask one wrong question and then I was getting a bullet aimed at me, “Do you know of any of the shooters using a rifle?”
A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) Page 9