Desperate Measures (5 page)

As soon as Janine heard that Fraser McKee was in police custody for his own protection, she arranged to have him transferred to her station for interview as a victim and potential witness.

Her first impression was that the man was scared witless, tension evident in the set of his shoulders, the light in his eyes. Wounds on his face had been cleaned up but Janine doubted that he’d got any sleep.

‘I’m DCI Janine Lewis,’ she told him, ‘in charge of the inquiry into the murder of Dr Halliwell.’

McKee nodded, rubbed a finger under his nose.

‘DI Richard Mayne,’ Richard introduced himself.

‘You’ve seen a doctor,’ Janine said. ‘Is there anything else you need?’
              ‘No.’ McKee kept blinking, pale lashes against pale blue eyes. He seemed to find it hard to maintain eye contact.

‘Perhaps you could tell us what happened?’ Janine said.

‘I…erm …’ he was jittery, a fist tapping on the edge of the table as he talked, ‘I left work and went home and my house …they’d completely wrecked it. It was ... it was incredible, the scale of the destruction. I knew what it meant – they were after me. I had to get away, so I … erm, I got in the car and started driving. I didn’t know where to go. They’d be looking for me.’ His breath was uneven, panicked.

Janine wondered who ‘they’ were but didn’t want to break the flow yet. She nodded for him to continue.

‘Then the news about Don came on the radio. They’d killed Don, oh God, and now my house and I didn’t know what to do.’ He splayed his hands, imploring. ‘Then this car was right up behind me, he forced me off the road. My car turned over, I thought I’d had it ... I got out and I just ran, there were woods nearby and I hid there for a while until it got dark, then I made my way to the police station.’ He stopped, his breath uneven and noisy in the small room.

‘What time was it when you left work?’ Janine said.

‘About five thirty,’ McKee said.

‘Dr Halliwell was still there?’ Janine said.

‘Yes.’

‘You sound as though you know who’s behind all this,’ she said.

McKee hesitated, his eyes intense, then said, ‘It’s the Wilson Crew, you’ve heard of them? They broke into the surgery before and now they’ve come back and Don’s got in their way.’

The Wilson Crew were notorious, one of several Manchester gangs who made money primarily from drug pushing and robberies and maintained their power by intimidating anyone who they perceived to be a threat. Gangs were responsible for the majority of shootings in the city. The police operation Xcalibre had been set up to try and purge them from the city streets.

‘No-one was convicted for the previous break-in,’ Janine said.

‘But everyone knew it was them, and stuff like this: shooting, the state of my house, who else could it be?’ His voice was high with fear.

Janine couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. ‘Dr McKee,’ she said, ‘if we accept for a moment that Don Halliwell was shot because he interrupted an attempted break-in, I don’t see why these same people would then set out to vandalise your property and threaten your life.’

He looked incredulous. ‘Because they can, because that’s how they work isn’t it? They intimidate people.’ As an explanation it didn’t hold water.

Richard shifted in his seat. Janine could tell he wasn’t convinced either.

‘What can you tell us about the vehicle that ran you off the road?’ Richard said.

‘It was dark, some sort of 4x4, with those blacked-out windows,’ McKee said.

‘Could you see how many people were in it?’ Richard said.

McKee shook his head.

‘Was there any actual impact? It might help us with forensics,’ Richard said.

‘I’m not sure. I was just trying to get away, it all happened so fast.’ McKee swallowed, rubbed at his nose again.

‘Was the road busy?’ Richard said. He was wondering about witnesses, Janine thought.

‘No,’ McKee said.

‘And the other car didn’t stop?’ Richard said.

‘I don’t know. I think I was unconscious but I don’t know how long for,’ McKee said.

Janine leant forward, ‘Have there been any threats made in the past to you or to other staff by these people?’ she said.

‘No,’ said McKee.

‘And they’re not personally known to you?’ Janine said.

‘No,’ McKee said, his eyes darting away.
              Janine asked him if he’d be happy to wait as they made further inquiries and would want to talk to him again.

‘I can stay here?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said and he gave a nod.

‘What do you think?’ Janine said to Richard as they travelled up in the lift.

‘His story’s a bit of a dog’s dinner,’ Richard said.

‘Yes. I’m not sure he was being straight with us,’ she said.

‘In fear for his life,’ Richard said.

‘Yes, I believe that but he seemed paranoid. All that stuff about the Wilson Crew targeting him just because they can. I don’t buy that.’

‘Do you think he knows something about the murder?’ Richard said.

‘I can’t tell but he’s holding something back, something that scares him enough to bring him here,’ Janine said.

Once the reference to the Wilson Crew had been entered into the inquiry log and before she could brief the team, Janine was contacted by DCS Roper from Xcalibre, the gun crime operation. Roper wanted to know where her interest in the Wilsons stemmed from. After she’d explained, he invited himself over to the briefing. Her inquiry had blundered into Xcalibre territory and Roper sounded hell-bent on making it clear where they could and couldn’t tread. ‘Sounds like it does involve the gang,’ Janine said to Richard, ‘at least something’s becoming clearer.’

Janine waited for Roper to arrive and took him into the incident room where the team were assembled. The boards contained significant information so far on all lines of inquiry: a picture of Halliwell and his details in the centre with a section on the crime scene, including a note about the missing briefcase and weapon, and a section on Norma Halliwell and the vandalised car, and a map of the area near the surgery. To the left, the team had compiled details of the practice, a list of colleagues and a section on McKee with pictures of his house and the crashed Peugeot. To the right, the new line of inquiry into the gangs, the Wilson Crew and the previous robbery.

‘Some of you may know DCS Roper, from Xcalibre, our gun crime operation,’ Janine said, ‘he has an interest in our current case as you’ll hear.’

Roper nodded and took the floor. ‘Good morning. I’m here because the Wilson Crew were flagged up to us as of interest to your investigation and what I can tell you is that at present we have the inner-circle, the half-dozen people at the top, under close surveillance. We do know there was talk of another burglary but no immediate plans to carry it out. We can confirm that members of the gang were party to the property damage to Fraser McKee’s house yesterday but we can also confirm that the murder of Dr Halliwell was not instigated or carried out by those we are monitoring.’

Janine saw the ripple of surprise travel round the room. Shared it herself. The proximity of the incidents, the connection between Halliwell and McKee had persuaded her, persuaded all of them, that the crimes were linked by the same perpetrators but Roper was saying that categorically was not the case.

‘What about the attack on Halliwell’s car?’ Shap said.

‘And McKee’s?’ Butchers said.

‘No, neither of those incidents are linked to the Wilson Crew,’ said DCS Roper.

‘Do you know why they ransacked McKee’s place?’ Richard said.

‘Not yet. What I should make clear is that just because we rule out the top-dogs for commissioning or carrying out the shooting, it could still be a gang member. The gang structure is pretty fluid, there might be eighty people or more loosely affiliated at any one time. Some are related to the big boys, others just live in the area, run the odd errand.’

‘It could be the work of a splinter group,’ Janine said.

‘Possibly. They tend to be the younger ones, who can often be more reckless, more violent,’ Roper said. ‘But we haven’t had any intelligence through on that. It’s just speculation. All I can say is this killing was not sanctioned by the gang leadership.’

‘It’s an unusual target, Janine said, ‘middle-aged GP.’

‘I’ll grant you that,’ Roper said, ‘gang violence tends to arise from gang activity, rival groups vying for control, fallings out within the gang. Sometimes it spills over to friends and relatives, then of course we get mistaken identity, that sort of shooting. But this…’ He shook his head. ‘If I were putting money on it I’d say this was not a gang related killing.’

‘Not even some rogue scrote on the edge of the action?’ Shap said.

Roper shrugged. He paused for a minute then said, ‘Obviously we don’t want to blow our obs...’

‘You don’t want us pulling in your suspects,’ Richard said.

‘And there’s no need,’ DCS Roper said, ‘the leaders are clear for the murder, and no-one wants to see eighteen months of work go down the drain picking them up for criminal damage to the McKee property. If your continuing inquiries lead you to conclude any involvement from any wider associates I’d appreciate being kept up to speed.’

‘Understood,’ Janine said.

Once Roper had left, Janine led the discussion, ‘So the Wilson Crew trashed McKee’s house but someone else drove him off the road. He’s a popular guy.’

‘Like Lancelot said,’ Shap chipped in, ‘could be an offshoot gang.’

‘The last burglary,’ Butchers said, ‘the intruders got away with a load of computers and prescription pads. The alarm went off but by the time an area car responded they’d legged it.’

‘And was there any evidence to link it to the Wilson Crew at the time?’ Janine said.

‘No, only hearsay,’ Butchers said.

‘Suppose it was a splinter gang, a copycat crime,’ Lisa said, ‘this time they go in at the end of the day but Halliwell confronts them and they shoot him.’

‘OK,’ said Janine, ‘investigating that is one priority. The other is Halliwell’s workplace. After all, that’s where he was shot. We need to build up a picture of Dr Halliwell. What can the rest of the staff tell us? We’re talking to them this morning. But we also look at patients.’

‘Place like that you get all sorts,’ Shap said, ‘nutters, junkies.’

‘Sick people,’ Janine said. ‘You not have a doctor, Shap?’

‘Nah,’ Shap said.

‘No-one to check your bits?’ Janine said.

‘Don’t need a doctor for that,’ Shap said, ‘they’re lining up for it.’

Lisa groaned and Butchers laughed.

‘Queasy,’ Janine said, ‘spare us.’

‘How about a patient with a grudge?’ Richard said. ‘They do Halliwell’s car, then the shooting.’

‘Needs exploring,’ Janine agreed. ‘Lisa, you mentioned the Marcie Young inquest.’

‘Yes, boss. Dr Halliwell was cleared of any negligence and the verdict was accidental death.’

‘How did the family take it?’ Janine said. ‘See what you can find out.’

‘Will do,’ Lisa said.

‘Other actions?’ said Janine.

‘We’ve pulled in CCTV for the area,’ Lisa said, ‘and we’re looking for activity near the scene: people, cars. Same with house-to-house.’

‘We’re also working back through his day,’ Butchers said, ‘getting the timeline filled in.’

‘Good,’ Janine said, ‘We’ve arranged to talk to staff at the surgery now, and I intend to speak to Dr McKee again after that. And attend the post-mortem. We’ll review everything at five-thirty.’

Roy was no stranger to organizing funerals. He’d helped with his father’s, sorted out his mother’s, then Peggy’s parents and —

He was startled by a blare from the horn of the car behind him. The lights had changed to green and Roy sat there like an idiot. He drove on. He had the death certificate now from the registrar. The registrar had offered to print out extra copies in case he needed to send them to Peggy’s bank or building society or anywhere else but Roy had declined. They had a joint account, the house was rented, he wouldn’t need them.

Cooper’s, a Catholic firm were doing the funeral, there’d been an opening at the cemetery on Saturday afternoon. There was no need to wait any longer – it wasn’t as if there were any family who needed time to travel. It’d be Roy and Peggy’s friends, most of them from church. Father McDovey would do a Requiem Mass at St Edmund’s beforehand.

Roy pulled into the road at the side of the surgery. The place was closed. He had watched the news this morning, reports that someone had been shot. Later they named the victim as Dr Donald Halliwell. The main entrance was taped off but Roy could see the fire door at the side was open and a police officer stood there. He parked and lifted the oxygen cylinder out and walked along the path to her.

‘Surgery’s closed,’ she said.

‘I’m just returning this,’ Roy said, ‘it won’t take a minute.’ He had already rung up to arrange the return of the hospital bed and they would collect on Friday.

‘If you could come back tomorrow,’ the officer said.

Roy felt a flash of anger, hot across his back. My wife’s just died, he wanted to tell her, she spent the last weeks of her life hooked up to that thing and I want rid of it. Now.

He said nothing, then he caught sight of Miss Ling behind, in the hallway.

‘Roy,’ she said, ‘come in.’ The police officer glared at him but stood to one side. ‘I heard about Peggy,’ Ms Ling said. ‘I am so sorry.

‘And Dr Halliwell,’ he said.

‘It’s awful. Unbelievable.’ She had been crying.

‘I just wanted to drop the oxygen off,’ he said, ‘but then—’

‘Of course.’ She glanced sharply at the officer. ‘No problem.’

The policewoman tightened her lips and he wished he had the nerve to challenge her attitude but what if he lost his temper and caused a scene when they were trying to work out what happened to the doctor?

So he said nothing but left the cylinder where Ms Ling showed him. He could see other people in the building, a woman who looked at him as he came in. And a tall man near the consulting rooms. They weren’t in uniforms but he got the impression they were police too. Ms Ling asked when the funeral was and she said she’d try and come and that made him feel a bit better.

On the drive home he remembered going to the surgery with Peggy for the results of the tests; how they had sat side by side while Dr Halliwell told them that it was bad news, that the shadow was a tumour on the lung and that it was unfortunately very advanced.

‘How advanced?’ Peggy had said.

‘But can you treat it?’ Roy said at the same time.

‘The only treatment will be palliative,’ Dr Halliwell said, ‘to make you comfortable. I am sorry.’

Sorry, he had said but it wasn’t his fault, was it? The luck of the draw. Terminal, Roy thought. The word hadn’t been spoken but that’s what it was. Terminal.

There was a rushing in his head and he felt sick. He clamped his jaw tight.

‘How long have I got?’ Peggy had said.

‘Impossible to say.’ Dr Halliwell shook his head.

‘Roughly?’

‘Peggy,’ the doctor reproached her.

‘Please, doctor, you must have some idea. Months? A year?’

Dr Halliwell took a breath, his fingers on the knot of his tie.

Weeks, then, Roy thought.

‘A year would be most unlikely,’ the doctor had said

‘Thank you,’ Peggy said.

For what? A death sentence? Roy was furious. How could she be so accepting? Why wasn’t she full of rage at the unfairness of it all? She deserved better. God knows, she’d been through enough in the past few years.

Roy had got abruptly to his feet and let go of her hand. He had to leave.

Dr Halliwell looked up at him and said to them both, ‘It’s an awful lot to take in. Why don’t you go home and I’ll call in tomorrow afternoon and we’ll look at your care plan then.’

Care plan? How had it come to that? One minute she was a bit more breathless, had a pain in the side, next thing she was dying and had a care plan.

Peggy stood up. ‘Yes, thank you, doctor,’ she said again. Roy followed her out, the injustice of it a searing fire in his chest.

And it had been weeks. Five short weeks from that day until her death yesterday.

Dr Halliwell had called just after lunch.

Roy had been up with Peggy all night, dozing in the armchair, beside the big hospital bed. He’d had to move furniture out of the room to accommodate it but there was just enough space for the chair and the small table to put all the medicines and things on.

When it grew light, Roy had made a cup of tea. He’d asked Peggy if she’d like a drink of anything but she didn’t wake. Her breath was irregular even with the oxygen and several times she made a gargling sound. Roy worried she was choking at first, he sprang up and watched, ready to try and clear her throat if he had to but then he saw the ripple in her throat as she managed to swallow and he sat back down again, took hold of her hand.

He didn’t speak. There was no need for words. Now and again a noise from outside would pierce his consciousness: the slam of a car door, a burst of bird song, a plane overhead; but in the cocoon of the room, over-warm for Peggy, he let his mind drift.

Peggy began to cough and then her breath made a stuttering, scraping sound. He felt her hand slacken. And then there were no more breaths. Roy waited a while to be sure, an awful aching in his throat. He rubbed his eyes and he gently removed the oxygen mask and smoothed her hair back. He folded her hands on her chest and gazed at her for a few more minutes before calling the surgery.

Dr Halliwell gave his condolences when he arrived in the early afternoon. He said he’d finished his home calls and thought it was best to visit Roy last so he could take as much time as they needed. Roy offered him tea but the doctor said he was popping home after this. He explained that, as Peggy’s death was expected, Roy was free to call the undertaker and could take the doctor’s death certificate to the registry office.

‘She was at home with you, where she wanted to be,’ Dr Halliwell said.

Roy gave a nod.

‘It will get easier, life goes on,’ the GP said.

Roy bit his cheek, didn’t trust himself to answer. He took the piece of paper from the doctor and put it on the arm of the chair.

‘There’ll be a lot to sort out now, with all the arrangements,’ Dr Halliwell said. ‘It’ll keep you busy. But you may find things a bit harder after that, with time on your hands. Any problems sleeping, anything like that, do come and see me. Now I’ll leave you to it unless there’s anything else?’ He spread his hands.

Rory shook his head.

Once Dr Halliwell had gone, Roy picked up the death certificate, his hands shaking, the paper trembling and the words shivering on the page.

Now, Roy pulled up outside the house and parked.

Inside, the curtains were still closed, the place cold. He had turned the heating off. He sat in the chair in the room and closed his eyes and imagined Peggy’s hand in his.