Desperate Measures (14 page)

‘The gun is still the only hard evidence we’ve got. Aaron Matthews fired it two years ago – and got sent down. The weapon was never recovered. And there’s no record of it being used in any crime since … until this week. Follow the gun,’ Janine said.

‘Boss, when we were in the car,’ Lisa said, ‘he claimed he sold it. Maybe he did.’

Shap shook his head. ‘Nah! One of the gang’s been looking after the gun for him while he’s inside, out he comes, gets it back, they have another go at the surgery and bang, bang, back on form. Friends reunited.’

‘Maybe,’ Janine said.

‘We could offer a reward: information leading to conviction,’ Butchers said.

‘Not yet,’ Janine said, ‘let’s have another go at Matthews.’

‘We can’t arrest him,’ Richard said.

‘I’m not suggesting that,’ Janine said, ‘we talk to him, nicely, see if he’ll tell us who he sold the gun to. Lisa, Shap, see if he’ll co-operate?’

‘What’s the point?’ Shap said.

‘If you don’t ask...’ Janine said. OK it was a long shot. Matthews, protesting his innocence, was going to stay as far away from them as possible. Richard was right, they hadn’t got any new evidence to justify arresting him for interview. Picking him up might be construed as harassment and she didn’t want the investigation undermined by allegations like that. So a long shot it would have to be.

There was no answer from Aaron Matthews’ flat. Lisa wondered if he’d left town. If they were too late. Shap knocked again, long and loud. ‘Come on, Mr Matthews, we know you’re there.’

‘Piss off,’ came from inside.

‘Have you told your probation officer about our interest?’ Shap said, ‘Your licence can be revoked, can’t it, for any infringement. Resisting arrest, for example, they’d whip you back inside before you could fasten your flies...’ Always ready with a threat, Shap was, he liked to apply pressure at the slightest opportunity. It was not a very attractive quality, Lisa thought. And it was not what the boss had asked them to do.

The door opened. Aaron Matthews could barely stand, he was bent over in pain. There was blood on his T-shirt, gashes on his face, one eye swollen shut, he held his hand as though it was broken. From his posture Lisa suspected some broken ribs too.

‘Jesus,’ she said, ‘what happened?’

‘You happened,’ Matthews said, hobbling into the flat, ‘and word got back. You satisfied?’ Angry words but his voice was close to breaking.

‘You should go to hospital,’ Lisa said, closing the door. ‘Sarge,’ she said, ‘ I think we should get a paramedic to see him.’

Matthews shook his head.

‘You’ll have a drink of water?’ Lisa said. She turned to Shap who did his mock outrage look at being asked to do anything he thought she – as a junior, as a woman – should be doing. Lisa held her nerve. No way would Aaron talk with Shap playing the heavy but just maybe he’d talk to Lisa. Shap rolled his eyes and sighed and went out to the kitchen.

‘Who did this to you?’ Lisa said quietly.

‘Guess,’ Aaron said.

‘The Wilson Crew? But why, you didn’t tell us anything.’

‘You think they care?’ Matthews said. ‘Just being seen with you lot, picked up and released, that’s all it takes. I get warned and everyone gets the message.’

‘You could press charges,’ Lisa said.

Aaron started to laugh, no humour there, but winced and stopped. ‘And end up a dead man?’ he said.

‘Have you ever thought about witness protection?’ Lisa said.

‘No way,’ he said, ‘then they would kill me.’

‘They’d have to find you first,’ Lisa said, ‘we’re very good at hiding people.’

Shap came back in with the water but held onto it and said, ‘This gun you allegedly sold, before you went inside, who’d you flog it to?’

Aaron stared at him. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘Was it another crew member, eh? The Wilson gang were behind the first robbery at the medical centre. Did some of them go back for more this week, take your gun along?’

‘I don’t know,’ Aaron said with heavy emphasis. ‘And even if I did, I’m not a snitch. But hey, they think I am – so what’s the point, eh?’ He spread his hands, palms up, imploring.

‘Why not give it up?’ Lisa saw tears in his eyes, he blinked them away, his face was mobile, rage flickering across it.

‘I didn’t sell it to any of them, right? It was a lad from the Wilbraham Estate. Carter, he called himself, he used to buy his stash from us.’

Lisa felt adrenalin sting through her veins. They had a lead.

‘First name?’ Shap said.

‘Dunno,’ Matthews said, the outburst over.

‘How old?’ Shap said.

‘Seventeen, eighteen?’ Matthews gave a shrug. ‘Not seen him since.’

‘And that was before you went down?’ Shap said.

‘Yes. Now piss off and leave us alone.’

Shap was gloating as they went down the steps at the side of the maisonettes. ‘You were hoping a bit of tea and sympathy and he’d do a Jerry Springer for you, weren’t you? Tell all and then you could clean your copybook. Scallies like that, you’ve got to go in hard. Keep the pressure on. Now,’ he turned back to face her, triumphant, ‘now, we’ve got a name.’

The incident boards now excluded both Neil Langan and Norma Halliwell as suspects. New information on Norma and the theft of drugs by Halliwell was noted. And the name Carter had been added. As of yet, that, and a guess at his age, was all they had but the team were busy trying to find out just who had bought the gun from Aaron Matthews.

Shap was scanning Electoral Records online. Lisa was looking at local birth records. She had described Aaron Matthews’ situation to Janine when they arrived back.

‘He’s in a right mess,’ Lisa said, ‘taken a right beating.’

‘It looks worse than it is,’ Shap said.

‘Poor sod,’ Janine said, ‘he couldn’t win, could he. What choices did he have? Join the gang or else. Then when he tries to break away, he loses everything. Gets leathered into the bargain. They don’t trust him, we don’t trust him.’

‘It could have something to do with his taste for violent crime and drug dealing,’ Richard said.

‘There’s this concept called rehabilitation,’ Janine said, ‘heard of it?’

Now Shap called out, ‘No male called Carter, of that age, on the current Electoral roll for the ward.’

‘South Manchester, there’s a Carter, Simon, in the birth records, July 87,’ Lisa said, ‘looks good.’

A few moments later Shap said, ‘Previous year, on the electoral roll, we’ve a Margaret Carter, that could be the mother, and that’s on the Wilbraham Estate.’

‘Nice one,’ Richard said. Janine felt excitement gathering as things fell into place. Please, she hoped, let this be a firm lead. ‘It looks like Matthews could be telling the truth, after all.’

Lisa glanced at her, no doubt very relieved that Aaron Matthews was no longer a suspect.

Butchers came in, picked up on the hubbub and scanned the boards.

‘What’s going on?’ he said.

‘Progress,’ Shap said. ‘While you’ve been sitting on your arse, we’ve been busy – lad called Simon Carter, could be our shooter.’

‘Aaron Matthews sold him the gun,’ Lisa said, ‘ he was living on the Wilbraham estate.’

‘Carter?’ Butchers frowned. ‘Hang on…’ Butchers pulled out his notebook, flipped through it. ‘Here we are,’ he said, ‘Simon Carter.’

‘Patient with a grudge?’ Richard guessed, ‘There’s our motive. Means and motive. I knew it!’

‘No,’ Butchers said, ‘he’s not a complainant, he’s an ex-patient. As in deceased.’ He looked at Janine. ‘You asked me to find all the people who’d left the practice. Well – some of them have died.’

Janine felt the hope deflate, yet another false lead, a flaming cul-de-sac.

‘Simon Carter died two years ago,’ Butchers said.

‘Not long after Matthews had sold him the gun,’ Shap said.

‘And dead men don’t shoot guns,’ Janine said.

‘Well, Carter must have given the gun to someone else, then,’ Richard said.

‘Christ!’ said Janine, ‘it’s like bloody pass-the-parcel.’ Frustration made her chest tight. She addressed the team, ‘Dig up everything on Simon Carter. Was he in one of the gangs? Who else did he know – the gun may have gone to an associate? Can we trace the family, are they still at the Wilbraham Estate house? What did he die of? Was he shot?’ She asked Butchers the last question but Butchers looked blank.

‘No bells ringing?’ Janine said, ‘No light-bulb moment?’

‘He uses low energy, boss,’ Shap said, ‘ten minutes to warm up and you still can’t see anything.’

‘Funny. Not,’ Janine said. ‘Can we get hold of the death certificate?

‘I’ll try the schools for Carter, boss,’ Lisa said.

‘Butchers – try calling the house, Carter’s last known residence,’ Janine said.

They hit the phones.

So near and yet so far, Janine thought. What had Simon Carter done with the gun? If they could just find that out.

‘Sarge,’ Lisa called to Shap, ‘you’re wanted in reception.’
Aaron Matthews was waiting for Shap.

‘What?’ Shap said.

The lad dithered, on the brink, not actually saying anything. Looked down at the carpet.

‘Someone nicked your bike?’ Shap said

‘I want to talk to someone about witness protection,’ Matthews said. ‘There’s stuff I know, going back a bit. But I’d need a new place, like, a new name and everything.’ Shap couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘You sure about that?’ he said.

‘Yeah. I’ve no life here, have I?’ Matthews looked away from him, his jaw working.

‘Right,’ Shap said, ‘come this way.’ That sort of information could eviscerate the Wilson Crew, Shap thought, take them out of circulation for good. Did the lad have any idea of what he was letting himself in for? Cut off from everything he’d ever known, he’d have to leave the city and never return. Shap wasn’t about to enlighten him; scally might change his mind and that would be a great pity.

Richard printed off copies of the birth and death certificates for Simon Carter.

The team gathered round as he read aloud, ‘Cause of death: multiple injuries. Person reporting the death – Roy Gant, father.’

Silence fell in the room.
Roy Gant?
‘What?’ Janine said.
              Richard read out the birth certificate. ‘Simon Carter: mother Margaret Carter, clerical worker, father Roy Gant, warehouse manager.’

‘Fuck me,’ said Shap.

‘Margaret Carter, known as Peggy Gant,’ Butchers said and began typing. ‘She’s the one who just died.’

‘What’s with the names?’ Janine said.

‘Catholics,’ Butchers said, ‘can’t divorce, one of them must have been married before.’

‘Check that,’ Janine said. ‘And Simon was their son. Multiple injuries, what’s that mean? Car crash? Shooting? Was there any foul play? Lisa find out more about how Simon Carter died.’

Roy Gant, what had they missed? Dr Halliwell had seen Gant on the Tuesday lunchtime when the GP certified Peggy’s death. Janine recalled the man, vaguely, returning the oxygen canister on the Wednesday, swapping condolences with Ms Ling.

‘Got it, boss,’ Lisa shouted, ‘Newspaper reports.’

Janine bent over Lisa’s shoulder and read the headline:
TRAGIC TEEN SUICIDE ON M60.

‘You remember this?’ Janine said to the others. Richard nodded.

‘Jumped off a motorway bridge,’ Shap said.

Lisa scrolled down, clicked on a second website, showing pictures of Simon and his parents, Roy and Peggy Gant.

Janine scanned the text,
Being treated for depression by his GP.
‘Oh, Christ,’ she said.

Janine rattled through what they now knew. ‘Simon Carter is depressed, Dr Halliwell prescribes for him, and soon after the boy kills himself. But the Gants never complain. Peggy’s already ill, she has a bad heart and emphysema and Simon’s death makes it worse. They move house, Peggy deteriorates. Gant nurses her. Then she dies. Gant’s on his own. He’s lost them both.’

‘He blames Halliwell,’ Richard said.

‘Gant had Simon’s gun, he must have kept it after Simon died,’ Janine said. ‘We bring him in now. You three,’ she gestured to Richard, Shap and Butchers, ‘set off. We’ll co-ordinate armed response, get them to rendezvous with you at Gant’s, then we’ll follow on.’

Armed police were in position near to the house, and the area was already cordoned off, as Richard, Shap and Butchers emerged from their cars. One good thing you could say about the terrorist threat, Shap thought, people got their shit together far quicker these days.

‘Any sign of him?’ Richard asked the leader of the armed unit.

‘No. We’ll go in.’

Richard nodded.

The armed police moved into position and the pair at the front used a battering ram to break into the house. It only took two blows and the door swung open.
              ‘Clear.’

‘Clear.’

The shouts and the drumming of boots on the stairs came as the unit checked each room.

The leader of the armed unit came outside to them, then. ‘No one present.’

‘Thank you,’ Richard said, ‘we’ll take it from here.’

He turned to Shap and Butchers. ‘See if the neighbours know anything, I’ll start looking for the gun.’

Richard pulled on latex gloves. The living room was bare looking, almost monastic. Richard went through to the kitchen, it had an abandoned feel but it was tidy. He looked in the fridge and it was empty. Completely empty. Who had an empty fridge? Richard opened the back door and looked in the wheelie bin, it was almost full. On top of the rubbish were a tomato sauce bottle, a pack of butter and half a loaf of bread.

Shap struck lucky at the first house. ‘He’s not here,’ the neighbour said, ‘he’s at his wife’s funeral. The car left a couple of hours ago.’

‘Where’s the funeral?’ Shap said.

‘Southern Cemetery,’ she said.

Shap told Richard who rang and told the boss. The boss said she and Lisa would go to the cemetery and see if Gant was still there while the others continued the search for the weapon. It’s crucial, the boss told them, no gun and I’m not sure we can make a case.

On the way to the cemetery, Janine waited for word back from Richard that they had found the gun. She feared that Roy Gant might elude them. The case had been one lead after another turning to disappointment: Fraser McKee, Aaron Matthews, Neil Langan, Norma and now Gant. Was he really the one? Or would he turn out to be just like all the other suspects? It was like studying pictures made of sand, which disappeared when the wind changed direction. But this time it did all add up, she told herself, it did. And she pressed the accelerator down even further.