“What do you mean if Ambrose was innocent? The man pointed a gun at you; he was going to kill you. And you know what John, journalists make enemies when they search for real stories.”
Smiling to myself because I caught the fear and false bravado in her voice I replied, “I was just playing devil’s advocate, my dear. Let’s just hope that they got the right man and no one else dies.”
I ended the call feeling a weight released from my shoulders. She deserved to have a little fear and remorse over what she had done but I hoped that there wouldn’t be any more shootings, not just for her but for the city.
Chapter Thirty One
When I arrived outside Fraser’s gym I decided against going straight in and instead rang Rodney for some more betting advice whilst I went for a very late and rather unhealthy breakfast of fish and chips. I wasn’t as successful as my previous visit to the bookmakers but I still returned a profit, confident that I had built up enough of a rapport with the staff there after giving them a twenty pound tip each, that they would take my bets on Ellies Legs when the time came. It is often the rule in bookmakers not to take large wagers from strangers especially on greyhound racing and I was aiming to take the Mickey Mouse operation of a bookmakers to the cleaners with a big win.
Feeling bloated after the greasy food, I didn’t really want to go into the gym. I was a little self-conscious of my physique walking into a temple to physical worship but put it out of my mind as Tony, my corner man from earlier in the week recognised me and left his post to talk to me.
“How you feeling, copper?”
“Better than expected. How’s the kid?” I asked, looking around for the young fighter who had left me with a bruised body.
Tony laughed, “Licking his wounds. Max chewed him out something fierce for taking it too far. Plus you did give him a bit of a beating.”
“Where is your partner? I got a phone call saying to come in for a free ticket to the fights.”
The old cut man turned and indicated the office, “My idea. Follow me, he’s just in the back going over some paperwork.”
“Didn’t think that was his sort of thing?”
“Needs must. We’re the kid’s managers and trainers; any contracts and the like we have to go through. Normally I go through it but my arthritis is acting up today so Max is doing it, usually puts him in a foul mood though so watch out,” Tony warned as he opened the door to reveal Fraser slumped over his paper strewn desk grumbling to himself.
The man looked tired, even worse off than the small room which had changed little from my last visit except there was a rather large blood stain on the couch cushion. My eyes flicked towards it but were quickly back on Fraser before he noticed. He stood up and offered me his hand, “Ah detective how you doing? We saw you on the telly yesterday.”
“Sure it was me? People often say I look like a poor man’s Gerard Butler or a thinner version of Russell Crowe,” I stated with a wry grin on my face after shaking his hand and sitting down in the chair opposite him. Tony sat precariously on the arm of the couch away from the stain.
“I only know the second one because he was in a boxing flick otherwise I’d have no idea what you were talking about. No we saw you on the news; looks like you’re something of a hero.”
“Don’t believe everything you see.”
Fraser nodded, “I understand but you caught the guy and that means a lot to us and the community.”
“Does us include Saul?”
The two old men looked at each other and Tony nodded their response. Fraser spoke though, “You might have heard bad things about him but he does still think of the community.”
“When I was last in here you said the shooting was probably linked to him. You didn’t suggest in any way that he was good for this area.”
“He reached out to us after the football shooting,” Tony said.
I looked briefly at him, turning my body to see both men and then made a deductive jump, “Wouldn’t happen to be after one of his men was treated in here?”
They showed little shock at what I said but Fraser was quick to reply, “You’re right. One of the players didn’t want to go to the hospital. He was afraid that whoever had shot at him would try and finish the job.”
“And he’s connected to Saul?” I said, not really asking the question as it was an obvious answer, “Why did he come here, surely Saul could have a doctor come and look at the man?”
Tony fielded that question, “I was a medic in the army. Originally I got called up for national service and hated everything about it. That was till they found out I was a boxer. They kept me out of trouble and I did some field training.”
“I suppose it comes in handy for your fighters.”
He nodded, “Yeah small cuts and bruises I can deal with, but gunshots I ain’t seen that many of. I patched the guy up as best I could and as far as I know he’s still alive.”
“We don’t make it a regular thing looking after wounded drug dealers but Saul rang me personally to get here,” Fraser added.
“And you owe him enough that you agreed,” I said nodding to myself.
“Even if I didn’t owe him, I don’t want to see someone die because I did nothing. That Ambrose fella was killing people for the sport of it, I’m glad he’s dead,” Fraser said once again I noted the slight shift away from anything connected with Saul.
“That’s if he was the shooter,” I managed to say in the most offhanded way possible, slowly looking down and playing with my tie.
“What the hell do you mean?” Fraser barked.
I looked up and tilted my head slightly to the left, my eyelids hanging heavy which gave me an air of nonchalance but was mainly due to my lack of sleep, “Ambrose was a nice fit. Unfortunately I didn’t get to interrogate him about the shootings and I’ve got a hunch it wasn’t him.”
“The man had a gun on you and you think he was innocent?” Tony asked incredulously.
“People keep saying that to me but yeah maybe he didn’t do it. The guy was dangerous don’t get me wrong but he was also clever enough to know not to leave behind shell casings and anyone with training or knowledge knows that a sniper would not fire out of the window. You give yourself away rather easily if you do that. No, Ambrose would have stayed well within the room he supposedly fired from.”
“So you’re saying he was framed?” Tony asked the lines on his face contorting as he frowned.
Shrugging, I answered, “I don’t know about that. It might not have been him specifically but there was enough evidence to point the investigation in one direction. A direction that led to Ambrose and because of his natural suspicions he ended up choosing suicide by cop than to go quietly.”
“You could be wrong,” Fraser pointed out.
“Yeah I could but I don’t think so. I’m telling you guys first because you can warn your benefactor Saul about this. I don’t want him going heavy handed and trying to bring this guy to justice in his own way,” everything I’d been thinking over the past day was out now and I was keen on keeping the amount of deaths to an absolute minimum but I knew that if Saul became involved that would not be possible.
Tony and Fraser looked at each other, their double act beginning to wear on me a little. Tony though seemed to be the more level headed and reasonable one, “I’ll make sure to pass on your message to him.”
“Before I left the other day you said you would have some information for me come the fight night.”
“I guess we can keep asking around, Max,” Tony said to his friend who stared at me sullenly.
“Yeah I guess so,” Fraser picked up a ticket from his desk after moving around a great stack of papers, “See you there.”
“Thanks…sure I don’t have to pay?”
“You already have.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Since I was in the area and I was worried that others may be scared off from investigating any further by knowing that Ambrose was dead, I drove to the community centre. This
had been the starting point for my long adventure the day before and I wasn’t in the mood for staying out much longer. The siren call of my bed was echoing in my ears as I walked towards the former church doorway, when a teenage boy wearing a black hooded top and tracksuit bottoms ran hurtling out of the centre, nearly knocking me down. I watched him turn right in the direction of a row of houses.
“Move!” Matthew Thompson yelled as he went past me also nearly sending me to the hard ground.
He set off after the young man and since the social worker was the man I was there to speak to, I began running as well. The teenager had grabbed the wall as he had turned and I noticed when I went past a streak of red which looked eerily like blood.
I wasn’t wearing the best clothing for chasing someone down but I was used to foot chases. Thompson, in a dark blue jumper over a white t-shirt with comfortable trousers and white trainers, was much more suited for the chase and was fast, slowly closing the distance on the runner.
The teenager was diving through the alleyways behind houses and obviously knew the area well which was making it more difficult to catch him. I got close to Thompson and managed to say through clenched teeth, “Do you know your way around here?”
“Yeah,” Thompson said sounding a lot better than me but still out of breath.
“I’ll follow, you cut him off,” I spluttered.
Thompson nodded and when we arrived at a T junction he broke to the right opposite our quarry and myself. The teenager stole a glance over his shoulder at me and then seemed to gain extra speed and when posed with corners seemed to bounce off them, once even running along the side as if he was an action star. I on the other hand was lucky if I didn’t break a collarbone as I slammed into walls and fences, twice hearing wood crack and hoping that it wasn’t bone.
I was sweating and wishing that I hadn’t eaten the fish and chips when we turned onto the main street, the young man sliding over the bonnet of a car and into the road. He dodged a car which blared its horn, which did little to slow him. I was just off the pavement when Thompson appeared from behind a car and tackled the teenager hard, slamming him to the ground with jarring force.
Crossing the street I stood with my hands on my knees, sore from another day’s worth of effort, and struggled to fill my lungs with air, “So who is this guy then?”
“Just a little bastard who decided to instead of playing nicely with everyone else, he would smash a kid’s face in with a table tennis paddle because he was getting beat,” Thompson said his knee on the boy’s back as he took out a mobile phone and rang the police.
Ten minutes later a patrol car had arrived and the young man was being placed inside it, still reeling off expletives at what I assumed was a record setting pace. I was surprised at the range of swear words that he knew, some of which were antiquated when I was growing up and some new ones that I could only assume were the hybridisation of a number of regular vulgar terms. The teenager hadn’t shut up since Thompson had caught him and we both knew it was borderline illegal our stopping him but I was happy to help.
With the police vehicle driving off we were left with a walk back to the centre, “How far away do you reckon we are?” I asked as we started off.
“Over a mile or so. Thanks for the help, detective. How come you were in the neighbourhood? I thought you’d be moving on since Ambrose was killed yesterday.”
“I’m not leaving just yet; there are a couple of loose ends I need to fill in. I’ve got a sinking suspicion that the shooter is still out there. Before you say it, yes I know I’m suggesting Ambrose may have been innocent even though he pointed a gun at me,” I said keen not to go over the same conversation again.
Thompson just laughed, “I was thinking that but I’m sure you’ve got your reasons for thinking it. What I would like to know is why?”
“Call it a hunch. Things just don’t fit with Ambrose and he died before I could get any information out of him to confirm he was the shooter.”
“Well I’m sure the forensics will clear it all, didn’t they say he had the same calibre weapons as the one in the football shootings?”
I glanced at him as we walked, “Yep, guess we’ll see. Anyway I’d like for you to keep an eye on your charges and see if there is anyone talking about a rifle.”
“Sure, I haven’t heard much to be honest. People were afraid of this guy, you could see that, but it wasn’t enough to stop the dealers on the street and their bosses. I might hear more on the subject tonight. I run a late night program, giving people a warm place to stay out of the cold. Who knows, someone may have seen your shooter on one of his hunts.”
“Thanks,” I said grateful for his help. Thompson was impressive in his dedication to the community, much more so than Fraser who had been there nearly ten times as long, “You don’t see many social workers chasing kids down like that.”
“Yeah not exactly my remit I know but you should see the kid he hit. He smashed him right on the nose, blood everywhere. I was chatting on the other side of the hall when I spotted him. It was a good job you were there when I caught him. I probably would have given the prick a good kicking,” with the way he said it I was struggling to determine if Thompson was joking or not.
“Guess he was lucky then, I’m sure you would have caught him pretty quickly without my help.”
He smiled, “You weren’t too slow yourself. It’s always good to have back up on those sort of things though. You never know if they are carrying a weapon or needles.”
“True, but you were still faster than I expected.”
“I caught the running bug when I was in university, had to keep trim for the OTC and I couldn’t stand going to a gym. So I run to work every day, it’s how I cleanse my mind for the day ahead. Plus I like to keep fit and active to keep up with the kids who come into the centre.”
“Sometimes literally,” I quipped. As we neared the centre, we could see an ambulance parked outside and a young man sat in the back his face covered in blood. Luckily he was wearing the red shirt of the more popular local side so it was difficult to see the claret that had streamed out of his nose, “I guess you’re in for a busy day.”
“Just a regular Friday. Thanks again for the help,” Thompson said, offering me his hand.
I shook his hand, “Don’t worry about it but if you hear anything, I would say the favour was paid.”
“Deal,” he said climbing into the back of the medical vehicle and speaking to the youth who removed a towel from his face to reveal a rather disjointed nose. I winced at the sight as the medic in the back replaced the soaked cloth. Looking away as quickly as possible, I headed toward my car.
I’d felt invigorated by that short run, missing my usual early morning jogs, and it was good to clear out the old lungs. However, once I was back in my car and after removing the steering lock the adrenaline was leaving my system and I was once again wishing to be in bed. Luckily I had no other plans for the rest of the day and I made the trip back secure in the knowledge I could have a lie in without feeling guilty.
Chapter Thirty Three
Even in the cold winter months the people of Liverpool still ventured out in their hundreds. Like many cities across the country, the clubs and bars filled up on a Friday night even though many people were saving in these austere times for the coming festive season. The men and women from the home of the Liver Birds were famous for their party nature, nearly as much as the Geordie population, and took to the nightlife that evening with vigour.
Cheap cocktails and poor excuses for lager were drunk by the gallon and the only shots being taken were of the alcoholic variety. The news of Ambrose’s death had been welcome relief to Merseyside police and to the owners and managers of the drinking establishments wary of what a crazed gunman would do to their sales if he was still on the loose.
The police were already stretched to breaking keeping the city centre streets safe during the drinking hours and the prospect of having to patrol the suburbs had given the top brass nigh
tmares. The lack of manpower and the possibility of paying obscene amounts of overtime pay had led to fierce debate over the best way to maximise the resources they had and although there was still a presence on the streets of Elsworth and Rakspeath it was much less than what had been out earlier in the week.
With the minutes towards closing time ticking by many patrons had made their way home to bed much like the investigators into the Ambrose shooting. The few arrests that were being made were mainly misdemeanours; public urination and intoxication. A couple of brawls that had left chunks of poor quality hair extensions on the pavement near streaks of blood and pools of vomit took the time of officers who were already wishing it was shift end so they could forget all about the mess that was the drunken populace.
There were three car accidents that night, two of which involved drivers under the influence, whilst the one that didn’t was the only incident of fatality; a young woman recently passed her test was driving home from a friend’s house and hit patch of ice. The car ended up on its side, the driver’s neck snapped from the force of impact when the air bag didn’t deploy. A sure win lawsuit would be scant consolation to the parents who would spend their first Christmas in seventeen years alone.
It was a bleak night but for Megan Reed it was going remarkably well. She worked for a small accountancy firm in the city that had held its Christmas party earlier than most. The meal had been the processed rubbish that most hotels put out for that sort of soiree; rubbery chicken and watered down cream sauce went with overly boiled vegetables. There was however a plentiful supply of wine on the tables, red and white which was gone long before the dessert course. That plus the bottle of gin that Megan had taken with her had given her enough courage to talk to her long time crush Craig Tunney.
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