by M A Comley
“Not my job, Hero. I was furious to see so many here. They’ve definitely hampered me and my team.”
“If anything like that happens again on my patch, you have my permission to tell them to do one. Got that?”
“Heard and understood. Sorry about the two officers concerned. They didn’t stand a chance.”
“Mind if I take a look?” Hero motioned to the covered bodies.
“You’ll need to tog up first. Don’t go near them until you grab a set of overalls and shoes out the boot of my car.”
Hero rolled his eyes. “Teaching me how to suck eggs again? On it now.”
After stepping into the set of white overalls, which made him look more like a painter and decorator than an experienced murder detective, he slipped on a set of blue covers for his shoes and left Shaw doing the same.
Gerrard stood over the first body. “PC Paul Wilmot, according to his colleagues. I’m presuming he was the first to be killed.”
Observing the officer’s wounds, Hero almost gagged. “Jesus! That has to be some kind of shotgun, right?”
“In my expert opinion, I believe this kind of damage can only be caused by a sawn-off shotgun. Maximum damage with little effort.”
Hero shook his head as Julie joined them and coughed. “You all right, Shaw? Do you know the constable?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, he’s one of Rob’s friends. Bloody hell, his wife is expecting their first kid.”
“Step away if it’s too much for you.”
“I’m fine,” she replied unconvincingly.
“Let’s see the other one.” Hero followed the pathologist over to where the second body was lying under a sheet beside his vehicle.
Gerrard removed the white sheet, surprising Hero.
He covered his eyes. “Damn, that’s Chris Portman. Shit, shit, shit! We’ve spent many weekends together in the Territorial Army on manoeuvres. Poor sod.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hero. I gathered from their colleagues that both men were devoted to their jobs.”
“Not sure about Wilmot, but Portman definitely was. It’s all he talked about on our weekends away with the TA. Good man. The unit will be crushed when I share the news with them. Have you managed to find any evidence yet?”
“Not really, so far. It would appear the killer cleaned up after himself. I’m presuming the first man, Wilmot, was shot while the killer was still in his vehicle; we found no sign of any spent cartridges. Once you find the killer and we get our hands on his car, we’ll be able to corroborate that theory. Not until then, unfortunately.”
“Do we know if there were any witnesses?” Hero glanced over his shoulder at the small crowd of bystanders beyond the tape.
“Yes, the younger male at the front,” Gerrard replied, pointing out the youth.
“Okay, I’d better have a word with him, unless you have anything else to share?”
“Nope, that’s it. I’ll have more for you after the PMs have been carried out. I’ll be doing those today; should have the results for you in a few days. Good luck with your investigation.”
“Thanks, we’ll be needing that luck,” Hero mumbled.
He and Shaw went back to the pathologist’s car, disrobed again, ducked under the tape, and approached the red-haired youth.
Hero produced his warrant card. “I’m DI Nelson, and this is my partner, DS Shaw. You witnessed what happened, I take it?”
“Not all of it.”
“Care to tell us what you did see?”
“I arrived just as the blue Laguna was leaving. Not long after that, a panda car turned up. Of course the idiots questioned me, rather than taking my word on the culprit and chasing after the car.” The youth shook his head.
“I apologise for that. I will be speaking to the officers personally. Did you get a look at the number plate?”
“Nope, it was caked in mud, even though the body of the vehicle was shiny, as though it had just been through a car wash.”
Hero scratched his head. “Intentionally obscured…what else about this crime was intentional?” he said to Shaw as she jotted down the youth’s preliminary statement.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough, sir.”
“Anything else you can give us, Mister…?”
“Williamson, Sam. Nothing really, except that he drove at breakneck speed to get out of here. Perhaps he heard the sirens and put his foot down.”
“You say a police car attended the scene within seconds of the other vehicle leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Has someone taken down your statement?”
“They did. Not that I could tell them any more than I’ve told you.”
Hero nodded. “Every little helps. Thanks for your assistance; you’re free to go when you want.”
“I know. That’s what the copper told me. I’d like to hang around, see how things work out with you guys. I’ve thought about signing up to get in the force.”
Hero resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with kids nowadays? They witness a gruesome scene and want to get in on a piece of the action right away. “Thanks for your help, and good luck with your application.”
“Any chance you can put a good word in for me, guv?” the youth asked cheekily.
“Unfortunately, they look down their noses at that sort of thing.” Hero smiled and turned to walk back to the car.
Shaw jogged to catch up. “I didn’t realise that, sir.”
“Realise what, Shaw?”
“That you putting in a good word for someone would reflect badly on them during the interview process.”
Hero looked over the roof of the car at his partner and tutted. “Get in the car, Shaw.”
After they got in, Shaw asked, “Where do we go from here?”
“I thought I’d whisk us away for a dirty weekend in Brighton. Any objections?”
Shaw turned sharply to stare at him, her mouth open wide.
“It was a joke, Shaw. You know, to lighten the mood.” He exhaled loudly. “I feel it’s our responsibility to let the families know. You up for that?”
Julie’s shoulders slumped. “Not really. I suppose someone has to do it. Might as well be us.”
“I’ll leave you to get the guys’ addresses.”
Hero drove out to Pendlebury, where he knew Chris Portman lived. It was nearing five, so he hoped Chris’s fiancée would be home by the time they arrived. Scaffolding was erected outside the semi-detached house, and a roofing contractor’s sign was prominently fixed to one of the rails at the front of the house. “Crap, I forgot he was getting his roof replaced—more hassle for Fiona to contend with.” Hero knocked on the front door.
A blonde woman in her early thirties wearing a black suit answered the door with a frown and then a smile. “Hello, can I help?”
“Fiona, you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Chris. DI Hero Nelson and my partner, DS Julie Shaw. Mind if we come in for a moment or two?”
“Chris isn’t home yet. He should be back around six if no overtime crops up. You know how it is.”
“We do. We won’t take up much of your time, but we have some news for you that we’d rather share inside.”
The woman’s frown deepened, but she held open the door for them to enter then closed it behind them. “Let’s go into the lounge. I’ve only just got home myself, so excuse the mess.”
“Take a seat,” Hero suggested once the three of them had entered the spacious, contemporary living room.
“I don’t understand. Is there something wrong? It’s just that I don’t get to see many of Chris’s colleagues at the house.”
Hero struggled to get the words out past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Chris was killed in the line of duty today.”
Fiona’s hand covered her gaping mouth, and silent tears ran down her cheeks. “No, not my Chris. Please tell me there’s been some kind of mistake?”
“No mistake, we’ve just come from the scene. If I hadn’t seen
him myself, I doubt I would have believed it, either. I’m deeply sorry. He was a good man, both on the force and in the TA.”
“You’re part of the Territorial Army?”
“Yes, we’ve spent many weekends together on special manoeuvres. He’ll be missed.”
“How? How did it happen? Why did it happen? Chris has always gone out of his way to help people. He loved his job, or should I say ‘jobs’, for that very reason.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks with a tissue.
“We don’t know the why yet, but it looked like he and his partner were in pursuit of a vehicle. They were both shot and died at the scene.”
“No, not Paul, as well. Lyn and Paul were expecting a baby—she’s due soon.” Fresh tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I can’t get my head around this. How could anyone gun them down like that? When was this?”
“We’re searching for clues now. It occurred a few hours ago. I wanted to let you and Lyn know first before we begin the investigation.”
“But won’t the person responsible be getting away?”
Hero smiled at the woman. “We’ll get him. Don’t worry about that.”
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds then Hero asked, “Is there anything we should know? I suppose I mean, do you know of anyone who would deliberately set out to kill either Chris or Paul?”
“Are you saying they were intentionally targeted by the killer?” Fiona asked, her eyes widening.
“That, we don’t know yet. I just thought I’d ask if Chris had mentioned if he was annoyed or fallen out with anyone recently.”
Fiona’s brow furrowed, and she drifted off for a few moments before her attention returned to Hero. “Nothing that comes to mind, sorry. Maybe Lyn will be able to answer that question for you.”
“We’ll ask when we get there. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Maybe we can ring someone to come and sit with you?”
Without hesitation, Fiona nodded solemnly. “I’ll have to be, and no, I’d rather be alone at this time. Will you need me to identify the bod…Chris?”
“In a day or two, although I’ve already formally identified him.” Hero walked towards the door. “We’d better make a move—we want to get to Lyn’s before she sees anything on the news.”
Shaw hadn’t spoken during the visit, and Hero couldn’t wait to ask why once they were seated in the car. “Are you all right, Julie?”
“Sorry, I suppose I’m still in shock. Not relishing the thought of going to see Lyn.”
“Neither am I, given her condition, but I’d prefer if the news came from us. Want to stay in the car when we get there? I’d rather you come inside with me, however, I’m willing to let you sit this one out.”
“I’d like to be there, if only to support Lyn once you tell her. I’m warning you that I might break down if I see her cry.”
“You have my permission to do just that, Julie. This is going to be hard on all of us.”
The mid-terraced house was on a tree-lined street in Whalley Range. The windows of the house needed stripping back and serious repainting, but apart from that, it was a solid enough 1930s house.
Julie looked up at the house from the pavement. “They were waiting until after the baby came before starting the renovations they intended to carry out on the place. Doubt that’s going to happen now.”
There was movement at the window, and a young, heavily pregnant woman pulled back the net curtain and waved at Julie before she dropped the curtain and rushed to open the front door.
“Hey, Julie. I haven’t seen you…well, since your mum passed away a few years ago. How are you?”
The two women embraced on the doorstep.
“I’m well, still trying to come to terms with losing Mum. I’ll get there, though. When’s the baby due?”
“Another four weeks. I can’t wait. Not getting much sleep at the moment and fed up of not being able to put my shoes on properly. Whoever invented childbirth needs bloody castrating. Did I say that? Silly me. What can I do for you? And who the devil is this handsome young man?”
A blush rose in Hero’s cheeks. He stretched out his hand. “DI Hero Nelson, and yes, my mother had a sense of humour, before you ask.”
Lyn laughed. “I should say so.” She winked and added, “But everyone loves a hero, right?”
Not sure you’ll be thinking that after I’ve said what I have to say. “Is it all right if we come in?”
“Sure, here to see Paul, are you? He should be home in the next half an hour or so. Come through to the kitchen. I’ll pop the kettle on.”
They followed the jovial woman up the long hallway to the kitchen.
Lyn filled the kettle and flicked the switch. He cleared his throat. “The thing is, Lyn, I’m afraid we have some bad news for you. Take a seat.” He pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table, which had already been laid for the evening meal.
“Why the serious face? Oh no, don’t tell me Paul has been involved in an accident at work?”
Hero inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Worse than that, I’m afraid. Paul was killed in the line of duty today.”
Julie sat in the chair next to Lyn and held one of the woman’s hands tightly. “I’m so sorry, Lyn.”
“He can’t be dead.” Lyn shook her head in disbelief and chewed on her bottom lip. “We have everything to look forward to—the birth of our little girl, renovating this hovel—and now you’re telling me that he’s never going to walk through that front door again? I can’t believe it.”
“It’s the hardest news I’ve ever had to share with anyone. I’m so sorry, Lyn,” Hero said.
“How? How was Paul killed?”
“He was shot at close range and died instantly at the scene.”
Lyn’s disbelief slipped away and was replaced by anger. “Shot?” she shouted. “How the hell does that happen on the streets of the UK? Why aren’t you lot getting all these weapon-carrying hoodlums off the street? And how are these weapons still for sale? How many more lives have to be snatched? How many more families have to suffer the pain and grief of losing someone they love?”
Understanding her concerns, Hero shrugged wearily. “There was a gun amnesty only last month. We’re doing all we can to combat the illegal arms trade. We’re at a loss to know the ins and outs of why the guys got involved in this, but we will get to the bottom of it—I promise you.”
“Guys? You said ‘guys’. Don’t tell me that Chris was involved in this, too?”
Julie nodded. “We’ve just come from sharing the same news with Fiona. They were both shot during a car chase, we believe.”
Finally, Lyn’s tears spilled onto her cheeks as her grief pushed aside her anger. “My God, when are the police going to bloody take up arms in this country? Is it right to expect them to watch over weapon-filled streets, risking their lives? I don’t think so. How can our men be expected to combat the gangs on the streets of today? How?”
“To be honest, I’m with you on that every step of the way. However, we have no idea if indeed this is gang related or not yet. Either way, we’ve lost two experienced officers today. I’m not a hundred percent sure if the result would have been different if Paul and Chris had been armed like our American counterparts. They’re trying to roll out Tasers to a lot of the coppers now, but I still don’t think that’s going far enough. All this dealing with what-ifs doesn’t help you going forward, and that’s what upsets me more.”
“Thank you. My God, how am I going to break this awful news to Paul’s elderly mother? She’s recovering from having major surgery for breast cancer right now. This could set her back or even destroy her. She doted on him—he was her life.”
“Oh no, I forgot about that,” Julie said, bowing her head.
“That’s regrettable—the whole damn situation is regrettable, and one that should never have happened. Would you like us to ring someone to come and be with you?” Hero dropped his gaze to Lyn’s bulging tummy.
She smoothed her hands over h
er belly and shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. If you have nothing else to tell me about the incident, I’d like you to leave now. I’m not one to share my grief openly with strangers. No offence, Julie.”
Julie nodded. “We understand. Ring me if you need anything; either Rob or myself will come round as soon as possible to help.”
“That’s very kind of you. I guess the little one and I will have to get used to dealing with things on our own from now on.” She struggled to get to her feet and showed them to the front door.
Julie rubbed Lyn’s arm when she passed her.
Hero gave the woman a strained smile. “Again, we’re sorry to be the bearers of such bad news.”
“Goodbye, Inspector. It was good to finally meet you, even under these circumstances.” Lyn closed the door softly behind them.
Hero had only made it halfway up the garden path when he heard Lyn screaming and shouting the word why over and over.
Julie turned to walk back towards the front door, but Hero held his arm out in front of her. “She said she wanted to grieve alone, Julie. We must abide by her wishes. Ring her later if you have to.”
Julie nodded.
They both hopped back in the car, and Julie’s head sank onto her chest while Hero started the engine. He wanted to reach out and offer words of comfort, but they had never really had what he would call a close working relationship. Instead, he headed back to the station. “I’ll drop you back to your car, and we’ll call it a day.”
Though Hero was tempted to call in at his local for a pint to drown his sorrows, he didn’t. Five years ago, the Red Bull would have been his first port of call after a trying day at work. Back then, he would have probably classed himself as a borderline alcoholic. Nowadays, all he wanted to do was go home and be immersed in the love of his family. They meant the absolute world to him. Tears moistened his eyes when he pulled into his road. He would be lost without them. He shook his head, remembering how lost he had felt and how sad his life had been before Fay and the kids had come along. Hero parked in the drive, wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket, and exited the car. Nine-year-old Louie appeared at the front door within seconds. Sammy the Rottweiler sat on the doorstep next to Louie—he was never too far from the boy’s side.