A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (5 page)

I
found myself driving to the scene of the second shooting after getting off the
phone to Richard.  I could say that it was part of my investigation into
clearing Morrison, since there was obviously some sort of connection; however
it is much more likely it was my own morbid sense of curiosity.  Having been
involved in homicide investigations for the past couple of years, I was more
than naturally curious about such incidents.  Shootings are not as much of a
rarity as you’d think, and in areas like the one I was in, if someone isn’t
injured the likelihood is that any gunfire just won’t be reported.

The
scene of the crime was still busy, with cordoned off areas and a plastic tent
blocking off the publics’ view.  I left my car down the road and walked towards
the small crowd.  Considering it was after lunch and that the shootings had
happened the night before I was surprised at the amount of people out.  News
vans lined the streets as I sauntered down the road with my trusty baseball cap
on, keeping my head low and watching what was going on.

I
wanted to have a look without any distractions but after recent events in
Hollingswood, which was a Merseyside suburb, I was unfortunate enough to be
spotted by Camille Jarvis, journalist for the Liverpool Echo and blogger on the
site The Frogmarch.  She had covered the murder enquiry in the paper and then
had written what I considered conspiracy theories online under the screen name
of Richard Roe.  It had caused quite a stir and there were some things written
on it that bordered on libellous.  Lucky for me I had my resident computer
expert who found out who she was and shut the website down with a particularly
nasty virus.  That had prompted a discussion with the woman and we came to an
amicable arrangement.

Amicable
it may have been but I didn’t really want to see her or for her to see me.  I
heard her calling my name and I did my best to avoid her in the small crowd but
she caught my arm and pulled me back, “John Harper, I thought it was you.”

I
smiled politely, “Camille, how are you?”

She
looked far too happy to see me and that was unfortunate for me since I have a
weakness for attractive women smiling in my general direction.  She was tall
and blonde which created another problem for me since I had history with women
with that hair colour.  I knew from our past encounters that she had a stunning
body but it was covered up today with a thick black polo neck jumper underneath
a grey trenchcoat.  With that beaming grin on her pretty face she replied, “So
much the better for seeing you.  What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

“Just
passing through and my morbid sense of curiosity got the better of me.  I
thought I’d come and have a look at what all the commotion is about.”

“And
why don’t I believe you?”

“Because
you are naturally suspicious.  I thought this sort of stuff was beneath you
now, aren’t you supposed to be covering the glitz and glamour of z-list soap
celebrities?” I couldn’t help teasing her since I knew Camille hated the
supposed promotion within the local newspaper.  She wanted to be considered a
proper journalist and going to the VIP nightclub parties of those people was
against her natural inclination for a story.  The blog was, however,
overzealous in its reporting.

“Yeah
well, they’re all still in bed so I thought I’d do some real work.  It’s very
interesting seeing you here, have the local police asked for your particular
expertise?”

I
shook my head; sometimes she read far too much into things, “What expertise
would that be?”

“You
know; criminal profiling and dealing with serial killers.  I doubt there are
many people in the country with your knowledge, John,” she said in a way that
was all compliment and I was flattered by a young woman speaking to me, even if
I did know she was buttering me up.

“True,
but this is a gang shooting. Nothing to do with a serial killer and profiling
young thugs isn’t exactly the best use of my talents, is it?”

Camille
pursed her luscious red lips, “Well that is if it
is
just the work of
street gangs.”

I
knew I’d regret asking what she meant but I did anyway, “What are you getting
at, Camille?”

“This
could be the work of a new serial killer in Liverpool,” she answered in a
totally deadpan manner.

No
longer in the police, I could deal with fools when I found them and I rolled my
eyes at her, “Just more of your ‘investigative journalism’ sweetheart?  This is
a gang war.”

Her
face had soured somewhat and I was worried I had really upset her when she
spoke, “I thought you were supposed to be the expert, John.   This shooting,
coupled with the one last week, doesn’t make any sense from a business
perspective for the gangs.  With the winter months making sales lean surely a
war would be the last thing they would want.”

We’d
walked away from the crowd but the laughter those words elicited caused people
to look in our direction, “You’re joking, right? Seriously these kind of
hoodlums don’t think that way.  Their rivalries are based on random feuds
started in school or some other place.”

“John,
I don’t think anyone has said hoodlum this millennium; you are showing your
age.”

I’ll
admit that one hurt a little but I folded my arms and stood resolute, “Yeah
well, it fits.  This looks like a revenge hit to me.”

“Okay
John, look at it this way.  The two gangs have never had a death between them
from gunfire.  There have been skirmishes for the past couple of years and that
has always been about fists and blades.  Why would they escalate to guns now? 
It is my belief that there is another shooter here trying to spark something of
a gang war.”

“Camille,
my dear, spending time with those actors has got you creating elaborate
stories.  They are using guns more because they are easier to get hold of now. 
I’ve heard as much from a number of these gang members.”

“Then
what about the other shootings?”

“What
shootings?”

She
looked around and then lowered her voice, “There’s a lot more going on here
than the police would like you to think.  How about I tell you about it over
dinner?”

Now
I knew that I should just turn her down and get back to my investigations but
really I didn’t have much to work with other than waiting for Richard to pick
me up the next day so I accepted, “Ok it’s a date but you’re putting it on
expenses.”

“I
suppose I owe you that.”

Since
I was meeting Camille in Liverpool I decided to get myself a hotel room for the
night.  I didn’t go for an expensive place, just somewhere accessible with a
secure car park.  She’d left not long after asking me out and I’d had the
opportunity to have a little perusal of the site.  There was nothing much to
see and the crowd of gawkers offered few additions to the information already
available on the radio and internet.  I didn’t think it was important but I
suppose it had gotten me a free meal with an attractive woman.

Using
the wireless internet in the hotel I did a quick search, finding out that
hardly any shootings in the area were carried out with a rifle, which didn’t
surprise me.  Rifles were large weapons used for long range shooting,
invariably any killing on these streets would be up close and personal, which
lent itself to the pistol or sawn off shotgun.

I
was certain now though that the killing shot had been made by a rifle which
left me in an awkward position.  I didn’t want to get Sheila Morrison’s hopes
up by telling her I might have a lead in her son’s case so decided against
telling her what I had learnt that day.  It was difficult to do so but if I was
wrong about this she would be unduly upset and I hated the thought of that. 
There was also the danger of not getting paid and a nagging voice in my head
told me that I still had rent to pay on the office that month.

Sitting
on the overly soft mattress I rang my friend Rodney.  I’d met him in
Hollingswood but he travelled all over the county putting on bets.  Some people,
hell most people I had met disliked the man because of his rude and loud
behaviour.  I on the other hand found him amusing; it is a rarity in life to
find someone who can simultaneously antagonise and provide such entertainment. 
I’d gone into business with him when the independent bookmakers had finally
paid me my impressive amount of winnings.  That money had gone towards a number
of racing dogs and their upkeep and I was hoping to see some return soon.

The
conversation was short and remarkably loud; Rodney, like a vast majority of his
generation, had a problem understanding how good the microphone on mobile
technology was these days as he shouted to me as if I was the other side of a
football stadium.  He assured me that we would be having a very good winner
later that week and I should be smart about where I put on my money so we still
get a good price.  Delighted with the news I showered and dressed for my
evening meal with Camille.

Wearing
a black suit and white shirt, maybe the height of boring apparel but I thought
I looked good.  I wanted to look my best for Camille; even though she was a
pain in the arse she knew more about the area than I did and she was an asset
for me to use at the moment.

The
restaurant she had chosen was small and cosy which provided a very romantic
setting.  I felt slightly awkward at that but it didn’t surprise me that she
would pick such a place.  The tables were small and separated from one another
to allow for some privacy and the lighting was low and only marginally helped
by the flickering candle stuck in an old wine bottle.  Strange for myself I
arrived early and took a seat at the bar looking around the clientele as I was
trained to do.  Most people sat in couples and were enjoying the Italian
cuisine which I was perusing on the menu when my date arrived. 

Camille
was dressed very provocatively in a flowing dark green dress.  The cut in the
side showed considerable leg and there was a very noticeable plunging
neckline.  The restaurant wasn’t busy but I caught the envious looks of most of
the male patrons as I greeted her and sat down.

“I
appreciate you dressing up for me Camille but you may have gone overboard on
that outfit,” I said with a smile.

“I’ve
got a party I have to attend later.”

I
rolled my eyes and shook my head, “And I thought that you were trying to
impress me.  All business I see.”

“John
if I was dressing up for you it would be something a lot more comfortable,” she
replied in a tone that had me struggling to decipher her intent.  That is why I
struggle with attractive women especially when they flirt; I’m just not used to
it.

“So
then what’s good here?” I threw her off with that one as she expected me to get
straight to business and we ordered or respective meals and a bottle of wine to
share.  We chatted amiably about her job which she was still a little sore over
and she asked how Harris was and if I was still employing him.  I knew he would
be flattered that she had remembered him so endeavoured to remember to tell him
later.  It was only as we were finishing our main courses did the case come
back to the fore.

“So
John what are you really doing here?”

“Trying
to enjoy a good meal with an attractive woman.”

“You
know what I mean.  I know that you have an office in Manchester and work
private investigations.  Most of them have been following cheating spouses and
the like.  I doubt very much that you were just passing through and I doubt
very much that an infidelity case is connected to the recent shootings.”

I
had to hand it to her then that the information was good.  One of the reasons I
liked Camille was that she for her faults was a good journalist.  In an era
when bloggers and quick response social media meant stories broke within
seconds of happening she looked past the usual paper thin topping and found the
real interesting pieces.  Yes sometimes she went too far and it became stuff
that conspiracy theorists would love but on occasion she did find interesting
information, “I’m here on a case yes.  Unfortunately I can’t tell you what it
is due to client privilege but it does involve the recent shootings here.”

“Might
it have to do with the fact that Joey Boulton wasn’t shot and killed by Tommy
Harrison?” she said before delicately placing some pasta in her mouth.

I
raised my glass to my lips and sipped, delaying my response.  I had to stop
myself showing any signs that she was right but I could tell from the look in
her eyes she already knew, “How do you figure that then?”

Camille
smiled at that, “Keeping your cards close to your chest doesn’t make you a good
poker player, John.  Tommy Harrison is taking the fall for someone in his
organisation or so he thinks.  If he gains the credibility that he killed
someone all the better in his eyes but the Boulton shooting and the more recent
ones are the sign of something else.”

“And
you think serial killer?”

“I
think it maybe the work of a trained assassin.”

Luckily
I wasn’t drinking or eating at the time or it may have ruined the ambience if I
had spluttered all over her, “Really? We’re going down that route?”

“It
makes sense.”

“And
I think you’ve gone off your rocker again.  Why would anyone be paying for a
killer to shoot street level gang members?”

“Ah
that’s where it gets interesting; I think it is all related to Big Saul.”

I
raised my eyebrows hoping to just lift the left one since it was something I
had been practising but I failed, “And who pray tell is this Big Saul?”

Camille
flashed that heartstopping smile of hers, “See this is what I like having such
an intelligent man guessing.  You should read my blog more often.  Big Saul is
the new drug kingpin of Liverpool and he is expanding his operation around the
country.”

“Sounds
like some sort of urban legend.  You don’t get that sort of organised
distributor anymore.”

“Well
this guy is turning back the clock.  As far as I have been able to find out he
has routes in from all over the world for all different types of drugs.  He’s
supplying most of the gangs now even if they don’t directly know it,” she
delivered the information with such confidence it was hard not to believe her.

“Ok
say I believe there is this drug kingpin who is raking the dosh in.  Why would
he want to disrupt his own money making empire and increase the threat of the
police cracking down on him by bumping off his own men?”

That
question stopped her midflow, “That’s where I get stumped by all of this.  My
only thought is that maybe it is to create a fiercer competition between the
gangs so they increase their output for him.  You know like they do with
technology companies.”

“Really,
you are actually creating this delusional conspiracy?  It doesn’t make sense to
me.  Also that sounds like a really bad novel idea.”

“But
you agree that there is something wrong with the Boulton shooting.”

“Yes
I do but I don’t think it was some murky assassin waiting in the shadows for
his target.  There’s more to it than that but your Saul story has crossed that
fine line towards unbelievability,” I said shaking my head at the thought.  It
was a bit of a show considering it wasn’t the first time I had heard that name
now but it did seem farfetched to me.

Nodding
ever so slightly she replied, “Why do you think he didn’t do it then?”

“Why
do you think this Saul fella is involved in this?”

“I’ve
got a source that knows the area and the people.  He alluded to the fact that a
lot of the local youth had fallen under the influence of Saul.  He also
suggested that he knew that the Boulton shooting wasn’t carried out by Morrison
at all.”

That
was the best thing I had heard all day.  Someone else confirming my suspicions
and if he had some sort of proof I could solve the case and tell Sheila the
good news, “And I don’t suppose you would be willing to tell me who this source
is?”

“I’ve
shown you mine you show me yours, so to speak.  You said that you knew it
wasn’t Morrison or is that just because it is the best thing for you in
relation to your case?”

She
caught me again and it was infuriating, “I’ll admit that I know for sure that
it wasn’t committed by Morrison in the way he has confessed.”

“You’ll
need to give me more than that if you want my source.”

“Ok
I’ll tell you what I know, if you promise me that you keep this off the blog
for the time being.”

The
choice was difficult for her to make, I could see that in her eyes, but she
made the right decision, “I’ll give you two days before I post it, unless I
hear it from another source.  When I do release the information I’ll be saying
a security expert told me since that is what you are.  Is that fair?”

“It’s
the best I’m going to get for the source isn’t it?”

Nodding
she answered, “See, you are learning.”

“The
shot that killed him was from, in my expert opinion as someone in the security
business, a rifle not a pistol.  To hit someone’s head from that range it would
be utter fluke to think anyone with a pistol could do it.”

“Maybe
it just was a fluke.”

Shaking
my head I told her, “No, that round penetrated with enough force to suggest it
was a higher calibre than found in that gun they have Morrison on.  I’ve also
been to the crime scene and found that someone has been there and removed the
bullet that killed Boulton.”

“How
do you know it wasn’t the scene of crime officers?”

“I
don’t for sure but I can find out.  There has also been no information released
about it either which suggests that the police didn’t find it because it was removed
before they got there or it was overlooked,” I said leaning back in my chair
and finishing my glass.  Camille had already told me that she didn’t want a
dessert and I rarely ordered one myself so signalled for the cheque.

The
journalist sat there and bit her lower lip, “Are you sure about this rifle
thing?  Because if you are then it gives my assassin theory more weight doesn’t
it?”

“I
still think you are barking up the wrong tree with that one, but a rifle does
suggest that there was some thought and some skill in this killing.  At the
moment I don’t have any reason to suspect that the double shooting the other
night is anything but a revenge hit.  You said there had been other shootings
recently but a trained killer wouldn’t miss would he?”

She
nodded once and still biting her lip Camille closed her eyes before saying,
“His name is Max Fraser.  That’s the guy who told me about Saul.  He runs a gym
on the border of the warring gangs.    He’s an old school bruiser but he has
true affection for the area and the youth there.  I said there were shootings
before this because there had been an attempt on his life and some of boys
leaving his gym.”

“I
don’t suppose they reported it to the police.”

“Let’s
put it this way, Fraser isn’t exactly the biggest fan of the police and you
could say they aren’t the biggest fan of him.”

“Guess
it will be fun speaking to him then,” I said standing up as she picked up the
bill.

“John
be careful going in there.  You might not be on the force anymore but that will
mean little to them,” she said with real concern in her voice.

I
smiled and put on my jacket, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Oh
and John I cannot believe you are making me pay for dinner.”

“We’re
even for now sweetheart.  If you want me to pay you’ll have to ask me out on a
date.”