I took a step forward hoping I could possibly diffuse the situation, silently praying that this wouldn’t result in an accidental shooting, “Leo, I’m John, I’m a detective. You might recognise me from the news recently. All I’m here to do is make sure this is all straightened out, hopefully peacefully. If you put down the gun we can discuss this inside a nice warm room. Please, Leo.”
He looked at me briefly, his eyes nervously flicking over me. I took another step forward, “Look Leo, I’m unarmed, unlike the rest of the men around here and they don’t need much of a reason to pull the trigger and drop you to the ground. I, on the other hand, as a homicide detective with years of experience, don’t really want to see another dead body that I could have saved if I don’t have to.”
Ambrose shivered in the cold air, as if the fight had leeched out of him with his body warmth and then lowered the shotgun. One of the masked police with an automatic weapon ordered him to place it on the ground and take two steps back. The same order was given to Rich, who discarded the pistol as if it were a piece of detritus. My friend put his hands on the back of his head but never kept his eyes from Ambrose.
“Thank you Leo, I promise we’ll get this all sorted,” I reassured him with a smile on my face.
“I’m sorry, detective,” he replied turning towards me pulling a pistol out from his vest. In that brief moment my eyes widened, my breath held in anticipation and my knees bent slightly. I heard a report, deafeningly loud to my heightened senses and echoing on the idyllic hills. Diving to the ground, I hit the turf with a heavy thud. My impact was followed by another; as Ambrose crumpled to the ground, his head lolled towards me, his eyes still open, a hole slightly off centre in his forehead.
I stared at him briefly before closing my eyes and rolling onto my back. Shaking my head I futilely hit the ground with balled fists as the armed unit surrounded the downed man and myself. Expletives left my mouth as I was lead towards an awaiting vehicle, just the first part of a long night.
Chapter Twenty Eight
If you have ever had one of those mornings after a night out when you wake up early and just can’t get back to sleep, then you know a little of my pain the day after the chase. I was suffering from sleep deprivation and a mind numbed by hours of police questioning. The worst part was that once I was finished in the Lake District, Merseyside police wanted some information from me. Luckily for me I had a good friend with excellent connections. Rich pulled some strings and we managed to avoid being arrested or further interrogation. He unfortunately had to leave once he had dropped me off at my car in the early hours of the morning.
On the journey back to Liverpool he told me how he had taken the gun from Ambrose’s house in case he needed it. I was glad he stole it to be honest but I was left wondering if it wasn’t part of what triggered Leo’s mental collapse. We would never know unfortunately which also meant we knew nothing about his other motives because of the trigger finger of a police marksman.
One question Rich refused to give a straight answer to was why he was being allowed to leave police custody after using an illegal firearm. That had surprised me quite a bit but obviously whoever needed him out of the country had enough clout to get the charges dropped, that or Rich is allowed to carry a handgun. He gave me no clue as to which was the truth and I just marked it up as another of his clandestine roots that were not worth pursuing.
My car had been left unmolested in complete contradiction to the standard jokes about Liverpool and although it was only a short drive to my hotel I was completely drained which made me extra cautious. A lack of sleep can be as dangerous as driving under the influence of alcohol and after the day I’d had I was struggling to maintain complete vehicular control.
With a throbbing headache I fell face first onto my hotel bed and let the cool sheets relax me like a splash of water. I woke to the sound of my mobile ringing and I rolled over, my neck stiff from the awkward angle I had fallen asleep in. Grunting at the effort I looked at the screen which displayed the face of Harris. For a moment I just stared at the phone and contemplated ignoring it and falling back asleep but that would not have been the most professional thing for me to do.
“Morning Harris,” I managed to mumble out, my throat dry and grating.
“Finally you answer; I’ve been ringing you for the better part of a day.”
“Yeah sorry about that I’ve been rather busy,” I managed to croak as I rolled off the bed and to the bathroom for a glass of water.
“I know all about it boss, you were on the news and everything.”
That statement led to a spit-take all over the bathroom mirror and dropping my phone into the sink. After wiping it clean and replacing the battery, I rang Harris back, “Sorry about that, a slight mishap. So what did you need me for?”
“Originally I was ringing to tell you about your friend Camille. You know I still go on her site from time to time just in case you want me to pull the plug on it; well there was a post on it linked to the newspapers website about the shootings. It was posted before the police released their statement on the calibre, hell I think they had to because of what she had written. The problem was she had also basically mentioned you by name.”
I was boiling the kettle for my morning cup of tea and getting undressed as he told me this, a wave of anger rising in me, “Harris, I’m not near a computer at the moment so just tell me what she said.”
“Ok I’m just gonna paraphrase it but she basically said her source ‘a respected and well known local former detective with years of experience and expertise in serial killers’ has told this reporter that there may be more to the shootings in Liverpool. She said that the Boulton shooting was the work of a killer with a high calibre rifle. Obviously once it was announced that the massacre at the football was due to a gunman with a rifle it made her statement all the more important. Hell, she was on the news most of the day.”
Running a hand back and forth through my short hair I asked, “Did she actually mention me by name?”
“Not that I saw but I wasn’t glued to the screen till the car chase. Got to be honest though it was a little dull till the shootout and even then we didn’t get to see anything good.”
“Did they know who I was?”
“A first no but Camille was still in the studio for her interview and she must have said something because they dug out some footage from outside the court when you spoke at the Lewis Hart trial.”
“So any sort of cover I had here is essentially blown?” I whispered slumping down on the bed, merely stating the words for myself.
Harris must have realised that from my tone and replied, “I don’t know about that boss but I’d keep your head down for the time being. It doesn’t matter though, right, you caught the guy anyway?”
I took a sip of my tea collecting my thoughts and then said something that had been gnawing away at the back of my mind for nearly a day, “I don’t know if Ambrose was the shooter.”
“What do you mean you don’t know if he was the shooter? You were involved in a high speed car chase halfway up the country, which resulted in Ambrose trying to kill you before he was himself killed. How can you not think he was the guy killing people?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“You know me boss I don’t usually care what goes on during our cases but this was actually interesting for once. You’ve got to tell me more.”
“I don’t know what it is Harris I’ve just got this feeling there are going to be more shootings now. Ambrose just doesn’t fit for me.”
“He had a gun like the one used at the football pitches, he was a survivalist nut and most important of all he tried to kill you.”
“Yeah but I’ve had innocent people that have tried to kill me before. Anyway I just think there is more to this. Plus I have to stay here and dig a little deeper anyway.”
“How come?”
Finishing my tea to calm myself some more I answered, “I tried to convince the investigators that if Ambrose was
responsible for the shooting at the football pitches then he should also be a suspect in the Boulton killing. Since no bullet was ever found and the damage to the boy’s head was rather significant there was enough to look at. They however said that without some clear evidence and the fact that Morrison confessed to the crime they weren’t going to reopen their investigation. I need to find something there that sheds light on that shooting.”
“Looks like a hard slog then boss.”
“Probably.”
“Well this might help. I was ringing about the whole Camille thing but I also did a little digging like you asked on Fraser’s gym. I checked the land registry for it and some basic rent agreements, turns out it is owned by a company called Tālūt which is registered in the Cayman Islands with offices in Tenerife, Istanbul and Banjul. The rent is rather low but Fraser has racked up a fair bit of debt just paying the bills.”
I paused for a moment dredging up memories long ago discarded to the recesses of my mind, in the end I resorted to a quick internet search to confirm my thoughts, “Tālūt is from Qur’an which leads me to believe it is Saul’s company that owns the gym.”
“I’m not following.”
“Since I’ve been here I’ve heard rumours and stories about this mysterious figure called Big Saul; he’s regarded as something of a drugs kingpin. It’s been a long time since I read any religious scripture but I read all of the main texts when I was younger. Tālūt is the Islamic version of the name Saul which shows some education from the man or maybe just a cool sounding one he picked up from an internet search,” much like I have I thought, “Either way it has some significance. Banjul and Istanbul are both predominantly Muslim areas and both are also drug capitals. A name for a company which is more than likely a front wont been seen as too bad. It wouldn’t surprise me though if there is another company with a more anglicised name for imports into this country since the intelligence services might be more vigilant in investigating haulage companies with Islamic names. I’m saying they profile but it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“You surprise me boss. I mean the things you know.”
“Thanks, it’s not like I have some sort of unrealistic memory, Harris, it’s just I made an effort when I was younger to make my decision on religion based on learning from them. I wanted to know more since I didn’t really like the idea of being coerced into being a Catholic like my mother. Pretty sure the name came up in a pub quiz back before smart phones ruined the fun of actually knowing things,” I said smiling for the first time that morning lying through my teeth.
My words seemed to insult the technologically dependent Harris, who remained silent for a long pause before offering, “I’ll see what else I can find on this Saul person then and if he has any other companies if it helps.”
“I can’t see any harm in it. Thanks Harris, see you soon.”
“Oh one more thing boss; is there any disposable cash for me to use in the office?”
I knew it was a loaded question and there was no way I was going to let him in the safe so I just hung up the phone as if I had never heard the question.
Chapter Twenty Nine
After hearing from Harris I was in no mood to go back to sleep. It may have also have been due to the caffeine in my system. Showered and dressed once again in a suit I walked down the stairs of the hotel. I was still tired, my eyes sore from the lack of sleep. Every time I blinked it was a refreshing coldness that was willing me to go back upstairs to bed. The soft mattress and pillow was still in my mind as the desk clerk called out to me. I put on my best smile and walked towards him, hoping that he wasn’t just speaking to me because of being on television.
“Mister Harper, a gentleman left you something this morning,” the thin young man said smiling back at me.
He lifted a package from behind the counter. It was a rectangular box wrapped in paper that was more fitting for a small child than a grown man. I was a little wary of item but took it from the concierge and thanked him for it. I made a mental note to tip the young man when I checked out as I wanted to get to Sheila Morrison’s house as soon as possible.
With the parcel under my arm I sat down in my car and rubbed my face with both hands. Yes I was tired but I was also dreading telling Sheila that the best chance I’d had at getting her son out of jail was now gone. The suspect hadn’t spoken and was now just a cold corpse on an autopsy table somewhere. Hopefully she could try and talk some sense into her son and make things easier. Maybe the detectives investigating Ambrose’s house would come up with some evidence that linked him to the Boulton shooting that could save Thomas from a long prison term.
There was a tag on the package that had been left for me.
Sorry I’ve left you up the creek as it were old friend. See you soon and good luck.
Rich
PS Stay safe and sorry about the wrapping paper it was all that the shop had in stock in the early hours.
I smiled and was about to rip through the paper when my phone rang. The number wasn’t one I recognised but it was a local area code.
“Hello?”
“Is that John Harper?” a voice asked on a bad connecting line masking the caller.
“Yeah and who am I speaking to?”
“It’s Max Fraser.”
I was surprised but was curious as to why he had bothered calling me, “Sorry I didn’t recognise your voice there Mister Fraser.”
“Yeah I’m using the public phone outside the gym. Don’t have much use for a phone line here and don’t like those mobile things; rot your brain.”
“No problem. How can I help you?” I asked putting the parcel in glove compartment and leaning back into the cushioned driving seat.
“I saw you on the television last night and it reminded me about your ticket for the fights on Saturday. If you could drive round I’ll give you it.”
Even with the sleep deprivation cobwebs clogging up my mental gears I knew there was more to the phone call than just to give me a ticket to some boxing bout, “Ok yeah as long as I don’t have to fight anyone I guess I’ll pop in later today.”
“You do that copper and don’t worry my boys don’t need the exercise.”
Fraser hung up and I was left pondering the call. Deciding it was best left till after meeting Sheila Morrison I set off, hoping that there would be something to help the woman in the near future.
Chapter Thirty
I was in the Morrison home for over an hour. When I left I felt drained by the experience. I’d delivered the news of a loved one’s passing more times than I cared to think of but this was different. Cases that I couldn’t close due to lack of evidence still nagged at the back of my mind, my memory not letting me forget them but this investigation was something else. All that would save Tommy from a life behind bars which would probably end inside a prison cell at the hands of a rival gang member was my investigation. Sheila Morrison was relying on me and telling her that my best lead was bust didn’t help.
Amazingly the woman was somehow upbeat about everything, pleased that I had been getting somewhere. She was strong and resilient in the face of such hardship. Her living room still showed signs of damage from the grenade attack but was orderly. I had a brief look around Thomas’s room but knew that the police would have taken anything of interest to their case. It was just the usual stuff for a teenage boy otherwise; nothing that suggested he was a killer in any way. It must be so difficult for her to walk past that room thinking that her son may never come home because of stubbornness and a misguided sense of loyalty.
Sheila was going later that day to visit Thomas and hopefully she could convince him to tell the truth which could help but I knew full well that there needed to be evidence otherwise. I just hoped I could find it.
I left with the feeling that she would never give up on her son which was no surprise and with a renewed purpose. It was that feeling that led me to ring Camille Jarvis as I drove towards Fraser’s Gym.
The earpiece rang loudly five times
before she answered, “Hi John, sorry can’t really talk I’m busy at the moment.”
“Yeah I can imagine,’ I paused making her wait, ‘busy talking to the television crews then? You working hard on promoting your profile?”
“John, I’m sorry about identifying you on the news but I was there and it could really help me. What helps me, John, can help you,” her tone was saccharin as if it could somehow reduce my anger.
“Stop saying my name. I know that it is just one of your techniques to build the facade of a relationship, Camille. I told you not to run the rifle angle.”
There was a moment’s pause as she exhaled her tone shifting when she answered, “The people needed to know. Maybe if I had released it sooner then perhaps people might have been more vigilant.”
“Don’t try that crap with me sweetheart there is no way my theory could have saved those men. You flatter yourself thinking that enough people read your website and column. What you did was for one person and that was you. I just hope it was worth it and you can live with a man’s death on your conscience.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ambrose. He died because of your words.”
“How can you say that?”
“Just think about it Camille, he was a loner and yeah something of a gun nut survivalist. You helped stoke the flames of his paranoia. Anything he could have told the police as towards the other shootings is impossible now. That young Morrison boy will rot in jail because there isn’t enough evidence to convince them otherwise all because you ran your mouth,” I rushed off, the passion in my voice evident.
“The story broke, John. I’m sorry about Morrison but if he didn’t do it then the truth will come out eventually.”
I laughed, “You know you’re lucky girl, Camille. Ambrose dying gets you off the hook somewhat. He’s not exactly that hired gunman you had been writing about.”
“What do you mean I’m off the hook?”
“Well you’ve been running your mouth about this Big Saul character and from what I hear he’s a dangerous man to be messing with even if you are wrong. With Ambrose dying though all that talk just gets forgotten and you can move on to bigger and better things. But let’s just say Ambrose wasn’t the shooter and an innocent man died through fear and paranoia. It comes back to what you wrote about earlier and with your new found fame more people might start looking into Big Saul. Might not be the best thing for your career making powerful deadly enemies.”
A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) Page 12