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

To
say I was a little taken aback by what Sheila had said was a massive
understatement.  That must have shown on my face as she leant forward and put
the cup on the table, “Mister Harper, I know what I said must sound crazy but
my son is under arrest for a murder he didn’t commit.  I can’t prove it and the
police are happy with locking him up for the crime.  I don’t know where else to
turn. Please help me.”

I
ran my hands through my short brown hair and blew out a sigh, “Right you’d
better start from the top.  First however I want to know who your brother is,
the man who recommends me so highly.”

“My
brother was James McNeal,” Sheila said giving me my second shock for the day. 
Jay, as I knew, him had been in the army in Ireland when I had been
undercover.  He had pulled me out of a pub during a riot, saving me from
myself.  I was in deep then and although he knew who I was, he kept my cover by
giving me a beating.  He’d done me a service back then dragging me out of there
before it got bad; I owed him for that, however getting his nephew off on a
murder charge was another thing.

“I’m
sorry to hear he passed.”

Sheila
nodded, “Cancer runs in my family.  After all the stuff he saw in the forces it
was sod’s law that would be what caught him.  I just pray that my boy Tom
doesn’t get it.  You see, he’s a young lad, but he’s clever.  Thing is, he got
in with a bad crowd at school; just lads from the neighbourhood.  Anyway some
kid from across the way got killed earlier this month and they’ve got my boy
copping to it.  I know he didn’t do it, Mister Harper, but they say he did and
he’s going to go down for a long time.  You know how they punish gun crime in
Liverpool these days; they’ve been cracking down for years.”

“To
be brutally honest ma’am I’ve heard a lot of mothers say the same thing about
their sons.  Some are telling the truth, some bald face lie to me, and others,
well they don’t really know their kids.  What makes you say he didn’t do it?” I
asked.  It was a brutal question but I needed to know.  The more information I
had the better a job I could do; not that I felt particularly confident.

She
looked up at me, eyes wet with tears and despair etched on her face, “My boy
was at home that night.  The thing is, he’s got caught up in that Elsworth
Warriors as they call themselves and he thinks he is the big I am by not saying
anything and letting people think he did it.  Since then I’ve had a drive by
attack on my house, someone threw a grenade through the kitchen window and I’m
scared to go outside my door.  I was petrified this morning getting the train
to Manchester.  The only saving grace is that no one knows me here.”

I
ran my hand across my jaw and noted the stubble, after years of shaving for
work it was a saving grace that I didn’t have to anymore.  Taking a sip of my
cooling drink, I leant back and tried to collect my thoughts.  The whole thing
sounded bad to me but Sheila was an old friend’s kin and I owed him.  I don’t
have many rules in my life but I pay my debts if I ever run them and I wasn’t
about to back away from a woman in need, “So what do you want me to do, ma’am? 
If the police have enough to hold your son they must be serious.”

“Apparently
they got a confession from him.  Ever since he has kept his mouth shut.  I want
you to talk sense into my son, get him recant his statement or something.  He
can’t go down for this,” she was close to pleading with me and it was enough to
tug on my desensitised heartstrings.  I’d worked murder cases for years as well
as undercover work involving drug running and gang crime and it had taken a lot
to become as distant as I had to be to deal with that sort of work.  Sheila
Morrison had just removed years of walls over a boy I didn’t even know.  The
more she said the worse it seemed to get for her son and in doing so the worse
it got for me.  Still, I liked a challenge.

Sheila
Harrison filled me in on the killing of Joey Boulton and how her son had been
at home.  She was well organised with times and dates of what had happened
including her son’s arrest.  Considering what she was asking, I was surprised
when she brought up the subject of money.  James had left her a small fortune;
since she was his only living family, she had enough cash to hire a good lawyer
to defend her son and me.  It felt wrong taking money from her but she
insisted.

I
told her to get a hotel room in the city for a couple of days so I could do
some investigating into what had happened.  She however wanted to get back
home, no matter what the threat, so she was close in case her son needed her. 
I had to respect her for that and agreed to come to her house when I had
something.  Sheila also gave me her phone number in case I needed anything or
if there was a break in the case.

She
left me with a lot of hearsay and very little in the way of leads to go on. 
Other than her word there was nothing to suggest that her son had not killed
the Boulton kid.  He was part of a crew, got picked up by a police raid and had
apparently admitted he did it.  They had discounted his mother’s alibi for him
because they had an unforced confession and what mother wouldn’t lie for her
child? If I’d been working it I would have sewn it up open and shut, without
much thought at all.  However that wasn’t what I was there to do; not now.

I
didn’t need Harris’s expertise to do a quick search for the Joey Boulton
killing.  He was a known member of the Rakspeath crew who had gone into
Elsworth territory to rob local drug dealers or out of some other issue. 
Opening fire on the street; he had wounded a man called Frankie Peters.  Peters
wasn’t found at the scene but his DNA was in the system since he had spent two
three-month terms inside.  The specialist firearms squad for Liverpool, known
as the Matrix taskforce, had raided his home, only to find that the man had not
fired a weapon recently and was barely able to stay awake after a bullet had
shattered his femur resulting in a lot of blood loss.  They ascertained that he
could not have fired the kill shot due to the entry wound.

There
was no further information in the news about the calibre of weapon that had
killed Boulton, nor was there anything about whether the gun that had been
picked up linked Tommy to the scene.  Everything I read said the shot had been
perfect, right through the back of the head.  Reading from newspaper reports
was not ideal; they got some of the important stuff but nothing the police
didn’t want to be released.

I
needed a way into finding out about what had happened and reading the file they
had on Tommy.  It pained me to do it but I made a call to my old boss,
Detective Chief Inspector Simon Jones, “Hello Simon.”

“I
knew it was going to be one of those sort of days John.  What the hell do you
want?” Simon replied with anger in his voice, I couldn’t tell if it was feigned
or real on the phone, considering we had parted on bad terms.

I
was a little upset over what had happened but Simon had railroaded me at the
end and had got egg on his ample face when I’d solved a case that I wasn’t even
on; resulting in the arrest of a double killer who was in the process of taking
a third life before I intervened.  We’d been good friends before that but he
had needed to play the politics game then and still did; something I was happy
to be away from, “I was just wondering if the category C squad needed some
help.”

Simon
laughed, “Is it going that far south for you already, John?  I didn’t think
that you would need work so quickly or you bored already?”

“I
just know how your oldie squad tends to struggle and I thought it would be
easier for you to clear a couple of cases if you got a detective who knows his
stuff,” the category C squad was a bunch of retired detectives they got to work
active murders.  The unit is cheaper than a usual detective department and in
Manchester had halved the time it took to solve an active homicide case.  The
civilian investigators may not get the difficult category murders but they
filled a gap and took some of the strain off the other detectives.  I felt
strange asking to be on the detail considering I was barely off the force;
technically off on stress leave.  I could say it was light work to ease me back
in and be cleared but I didn’t want the hassle.

“As
far as I know they’re clearing their quota.  If you want to come in and help
out for free I’m sure they could do with the manpower.  You know as well as I
do that they need every pair of hands they can get to close open murders,”
Simon said begrudgingly.

“So
you’re fine with me coming back in?”

There
was a silence on the line before Simon replied, “I need you to come in and fill
out some paperwork for me on the Hart case anyway.”

I
winced at the thought of what had happened in Hollingswood and rubbed my eyes, “Ok
well I’ll be in later today if you’re going to be about.”

“Unless
I get a big one I’ll be here all morning.”

“Let
me guess out for lunch.”

“You
know me far too well.”

The
line went dead and I was left staring at Harris.  I still considered him a boy
and it took a good five minutes for him to realise I was looking at him. 
Taking off his headset he tilted his head, “You got something?”

“Yeah
I need some information on gangs in Liverpool.”

“What
for?” he said with a yawn.

I
stared back at him, “For the woman who came in here like an hour ago.  To try
and help her son.”

“There
was someone in here?” he said with a look of complete confusion on his face.

I
shook my head; if the boy wasn’t so good for work on the computer I’d cut him
loose.  Still he made me smile, “Can you just get me some info on the Elsworth
Warriors and Rakspeath crew all I need is the cliff notes.  I don’t need you
getting into the gang taskforce or anything.”

“Hell
you could do that yourself.  Where’s the fun for me?”

“It’ll
come, it’ll come.  I’ve got to go out and do some proper work H.  I’ll be back
later if you need anything.”

I
was nearly out of the door when he called me back, “Yo Harper, get me some
lunch.  I fancy a takeaway or something warm; soup and a sandwich from the
bakery.”

It
was only a short drive to the new police office, which I happily took in my
Jaguar XJ6.  Since the win at the bookmakers I’d bought two other cars and,
considering the lack of secure parking near the office, it was a rarity I
brought in the Jag but I liked to start the week in my old car.  It felt
strange to put my car one the visitors’ car park especially when the guard on
duty waved to me like I’d never been away.

People
had long memories in this place and I walked through like I still belonged. 
They knew all too well that I was playing the system; for a certain generation
of police it was the done thing.  Unlike a lot of them I wasn’t close to the
resident doctor; I did however have past history with post-traumatic stress due
to my time in Ireland, so it didn’t take much for them to pension me off.

Walking
the corridors, I was questioning my decision for leaving in the first place. 
That was until I saw Simon coming towards me and all my bitterness of the past
couple of months came back.  He was difficult to miss, considering he was
grossly overweight and took up most of the corridor.  I clenched my jaw tight
and tried to smile through the anger I was feeling towards him.  One of my
problems is being blessed with a great memory and that leaves me remembering
the little things.  Grudges are something I don’t let go of; I remember my
enemies and any slight they have brought against me and in front of me right
then was a person I had a real issue with.  Years of working together had made
me think that we were close but the realisation that I was just another
detective beneath him had come too late.

He
spotted me and raised the file he was carrying in acknowledgement; I nodded in
return, all the time doing my best not to call him every name under the sun. 
He didn’t stop as he was talking to someone else who was struggling to stand
side by side with him in the narrow passageway so I went to his office, passing
my old desk and saying hello to a couple of people.  I sat down and put my feet
on the wooden desk in an act of petty defiance.  I knew it was stupid but my
attitude to the man was of such contempt that I didn’t care.

“Get
your feet off the man’s desk, John,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

I
did as ordered and turned to see Tara Nagle, one of the few people who still
had a soft spot for me.  I liked her for that and owed her time and time
again.  She was good police officer, which also helped.  Standing up, I opened
my arms wide, “My darling, how are you?”

Tara
gave me a cold stare till I dropped my hands, “What are you doing here, John?”

“Just
helping out, Tara; Simon had some papers for me to sign and there might be some
work for me down with the oldies,” I said with a smile on my face.

“Don’t
be wasting that brain of yours, John,” she replied, finally shaking my hand, “Even
working with C category unit is beneath you.  We both know you can be hard work
but you are stronger in mind and body than everyone out there.  We need you
back, John; solving the simple murders with the civilians might keep you
ticking over but we both know you prefer the stone cold whodunnits.”

It
was nice of her to say it and considering how undermanned and underfunded they
were I could believe the sentiment, but for the time being I needed to be out
of that office.  It seemed a little hypocritical considering I was going back
to work there on another case but I had to use everything I had at my disposal
to help clear Tom Morrison.  If I had to put my personal differences to one
side for that I could live with it.

“Always
nice to feel appreciated, my friend.  I am however enjoying being my own boss,
setting my own hours and the like.  You forget, Tara, I’m a civilian now.  To
be brutally honest, I need the time away from Si.”

“I
can understand that; he’s been suffering since you left.  He enjoyed the media
attention from you rescuing that girl but after that the higher-ups have been
on him.  That triple murder case went sour and losing you made things very
difficult for us here,” Tara explained as she sat on the desk, I returned to
the chair, looking up at her.

“Not
my problem; he should never have sent me there if he didn’t want it solved,” I
said before yawning.  I was happy with my final case, in so far that I solved
it with the minimum of loose ends.

I
saw Tara tense and she made to stand up; still respecting the authority of
Simon Jones.  I didn’t bother turning around as the DCI came in and moved
around to the desk.  Three people in such a confined space, especially
considering the sheer size of Jones, was not comfortable.  Tara made her
excuses and left me with my old boss.

“Here
are those papers I need you to fill in and here is a temporary pass for you to
get into the building and onto the database.  I’ve told the boys down in the C
unit that you’ll lend your expertise to them, so they’re expecting you in
Chadderton when you get the time.  They’ve got a couple of things on their
plate at the moment they’d like you to turn your eye to since you’re fresh out
of here,” Simon said with an edge in his voice over the last sentence.  It
seemed there was still some bitterness there.

“Thanks,”
I said taking the folder from him, pocketing the things I needed and quickly
scrawling my signature on the papers he wanted sorting.  It seemed almost civil
again, forgetting that the tone in which he had spoken to me before.

“John,
you thought about just coming back full time?  It’s only been a couple of
months out and we still haven’t replaced you.”

I
saw the pained look on his face at having to ask that question and did my best
not to smile; I still did but at least I tried not to, “I thought you had loads
of young and up-and-coming superstars who would leap at the chance of replacing
me.  You said as much before I left.”

Simon
fidgeted uncomfortably; the sturdy leather desk chair creaked beneath his
weight.  He sighed gently, “It seems that joining CID isn’t the most attractive
of oppositions.”

Still
smiling I replied, “You’d think with the unsociable hours and lack of overtime
you’d have people knocking down the doors trying to get in here.  Don’t worry I
don’t think it’s your fault; last I heard there is something like a five
thousand man shortfall or something as ridiculous as that.”

That
didn’t seem to placate him judging by the look on his face but he nodded, “You’re
right we aren’t getting the staff in at the moment.  Which is why I’m asking
you back.  If you can keep up the form you showed in that matter in Hollingswood
then I’ll happily have you in this unit.”

It
was a backhanded compliment but I had the good grace to keep smiling, “I’ll
think on it.  Who knows, maybe working on an easy case will give me that hunger
back.  Thanks again for the clearance,” I stood slapping the folder on the back
of the chair.

“Why
do I get a funny feeling that is the only reason you came here?”

“Because
even after all these years, you’ve managed to remember a few things off good
coppers like me.”