A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (9 page)

The
Elsworth sports centre was one of the few well used public facilities in the
area.  A large indoor area which was covered by what was essentially a large
metal shed frame allowed for a host of sports ranging from netball to judo,
gymnastics to badminton but the real profit maker was the outdoor football
pitches.  Originally they had been Astroturf pitches and on the far side two of
them still are but the problem is that they, like grass, succumb to harsh
weather.  The new advancements in technology had led to six quality pitches of
artificial grass with black pellet lining which reduced the burn injuries that
people suffered on the Astroturf and was not prone to freezing.

It
was due to those new pitches that there was a thriving five-a-side football
league in residence there.  The pitches were also used for teams to train on
but that night it was a heated cup match between the North Passageway pub team
versus the Elsworth Electros.

The
Electros were a tournament side who had been to the cup final three out of the
last four years.  They played decent football and had a good core of young and
older players.  The team had started out as a group of local electricians and
builders hence the name but had become a well respected staple of the Sunday
soccer leagues.  The smaller version of the game had become the place where the
older original members had enjoyed success.

Northern
Passageway pub was one of the roughest drinking establishments in the area.  It
was one of the few pubs still standing and for good reason.  The majority of
the men who drink in there were honest hard workers but a few, and that
included the bar owner and then captain of the football team, are involved in
drugs.  This had caused problems for the pub but the fear that the members
instilled had ensured it was still open and indeed thrived in a way.  To
increase an air of respectability they raised money for charities and had a
number of sports teams including pool, darts and the aforementioned football
side.  This would mark the furthest the team had ever got in the cup and it was
down to the skills of a young man off the estate and currently on the books of
Tranmere Rovers.

It
was this teenager that instilled a sense of dread and fear into Reginald
Pierce.  Reg had played the Northern Passageway side before.  They had been a
very physical side, going so far as to break his nose and glasses in a
contested header even though they played a no over head height rule due to the
low level walls that fenced them in.  Reg was happy to be out of the house and
getting the exercise and he was very much looking forward to going for a drink
with the lads afterwards.

The
boy was tearing them apart though and it was only by pure luck that it was
still a draw at five all.  Reg had been goalkeeping for two of the goals and
was sure he had sprained his wrist trying to save one of the lad’s shots from
going in. 
At least it wasn’t my drinking hand,
he thought as he stood
in defence watching the play unfold before him.

Dickie
was what the Northern Passageway team members called the lad and it was Dickie
who was now on the ball.  He was gangly and in that awkward stage of
adolescence where his body was developing faster than he could really
understand.  May be that was why his legs moved in such a confusing way as he
darted past two midfielders, his shock of bright red hair plastered to his head
with sweat.

It’s
all on me, if he gets past he’ll have a free shot on goal and I don’t trust our
keeper one bit.
  Went through Reg’s mind as he stood
there essentially swaying on the spot as he watched the legs of the young man
circle and dance around the ball and then in one glorious moment he made his
decision and tackled.  Dickie went over his left foot and he landed heavily on
the ground, sliding and kicking up black pellets.  Reg stood there for a moment
with the ball at his feet not knowing what to do.

His
teammates called for him to pass but it was if he was Moses and the opposition
side was the Red Sea as they parted before him.  Reg ran forward, a defender
crossing the halfway line, and into the opposition half.  One defender came
towards him and somehow he smuggled the ball between the man’s legs and created
space for himself.  He stared at the keeper before him and a smile crept across
his face as he his leg swung back and he went to pull the trigger. 
I’m
going to score the winner.

That
was the last thought that went through his head as a bullet dislodged the
majority of his brain from his skull.  Another nine shots rang out killing
three more people and wounding two more.  The night of sport had become a night
of bloodsport.

I’ve
always been astounded by how fast members of the public can arrive at crime
scenes or disaster sites.  It is as if they are capable of the fastest speed
known to man; that of gossip.  I heard the shots being fired and it was
difficult to assess which direction they were coming from but once I was in my
bar and breathing a sigh of relief I heard the police sirens and followed them
to the sports centre.

Outside
it, a small crowd of people had gathered and the six officers on the scene were
struggling to move them from seeing the bodies.  I parked my car down the road
and walked down to the slightly raised parking lot.  It gave me a view down
onto the pitches and even after my years of dealing with grisly murders I was
taken aback.

There
was blood all over the green fake grass.  Four bodies lay crumpled on the
ground in distorted shapes that seemed inhuman.  One of the bodies that I could
see from my vantage point was missing the majority of his head, the contents of
which had formed a puddle around the hole.  It may sound morbid but I took out
my phone and zoomed in taking as many photos I could before the paramedics and
police moved over the scene.

Even
with the sound of sirens I could hear the cries of people as a crowd formed
around the wooden partition wall.  Luckily for me working in Manchester gave me
a decent grounding in gun crime and I backtracked from the direction of the
blood splatter towards the area I suspected the shots had been fired, much like
I had done at the first shooting location.

It
was only a rough estimation mind you but it went through the car park then
there was the main road and then a row of houses.  The lights were on in all
but one in the row, with the residents stood outside in their gardens or in the
windows.  I walked over towards them and flashed a quick look over my shoulder
towards the police as they began to move people away.  They would be over soon
enough so I better get to work.

“Hi
do you know what all the commotion is about?” I asked in the most disarming way
possible to a group of women who had convened in one garden.  My hands open and
I smiled as I stopped on the edge of the pavement across from them.

They
looked at each other before answering all of them aware that my accent was very
much not their own.  One of the group, a tall attractive blonde in her late
thirties, I’d estimate, said curtly, “A shooting.”

“Sorry
I was hoping for a little more detail,” I said kind of wishing Richard was
there to woo them to my side.  No one ventured anything so I took a step
closer, “I’m a journalist and I thought that maybe the local residents would
have an opinion on what has happened here.”

Again
they looked at each other before the same woman spoke, “There was a shooting,
guns get pulled all the time at those football games, people threatening each
other.  They think it makes them big men.”

“If
only,” one of the women said, which brought laughter from the gaggle.

“I’m
sorry to inconvenience you this way I really am, I just want to get a honest
story from the people about what happened here before the police cover it all
up,”  I decided to play on the general distrust of the police from the people,
“From what I can tell there a rifle attack on that football game.”

“Well
we’ve not seen anyone toting a rifle around, have we ladies?” the spokeswoman
said.

They
shook their heads, “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary though?  Not
just today but over the last week?”

Again
they remained silent and indicated in the negative apart from one of the
younger members of the group, “There has been someone hanging around number
forty two the past couple of days.”

Their
eyes fell on the woman as she pointed to the house with no lights on.  Now that
I was closer and the other side of the street lighting I could see that it was
boarded up.  Metal grating covered the lower windows, “Do you know of any
reason why anyone would be going in there?”

“Who
knows?  Maybe someone wants to do the place up,” the spokeswoman said and
folding her arms.  Hers was not the most aggressive body language of the group
but it suggested I should stop prying.

I
just nodded aware that I wasn’t getting very far and said thank you and good
bye to the women who, aware that others had begun to look their way, decided to
go back into the house.  I was left wondering if speaking to anyone else would
be of any use and wanting to have another look at the boarded up property.

Putting
on a set of leather gloves that were tight enough to give me excellent
dexterity I opened the rusted metal gate to the building.  I still looked
around to see if anyone was watching me but the attention of the street was
still firmly on the shooting and the police seemed in no rush to come over
either.  The lock on the door was sturdy and new and all of the metal coverings
seemed intact.  Walking around the side of the house I tried the back door
again with no luck.  The place seemed sealed up tight.  In my investigation I
made sure to walk only on the pavement aware that any footprint I left could be
dangerous.  My awareness of footprints was however what helped draw my
attention to lines left on the front garden as someone had walked across the
corner of the dew sodden grass.

Someone
or something had been there recently but I couldn’t tell if it was an animal or
person and I didn’t want to hang around snooping on a property near a shooting,
so quickly moved back to the street.  I was walking towards an elderly couple
who stood in their garden hoping for more responsive witnesses than the women I
had spoken to earlier when a hand grabbed my coat sleeve.  I turned sharply,
still rather on edge, and with adrenaline racing through my body from looking
at the house whilst a detective unit was only yards away from me.  Luckily it
was the younger woman from before who had spoken up.

“I’m
sorry to startle you mister but I thought of something else,” she said as I
relaxed a little and looked at her closely.  She was shorter than average with
bottle blonde hair and a nice kind face.  Her clothing was casual but smarter
than the outfits the rest of the group had been wearing, one or two of them
happy to be outside in nightwear.  In the dim light I couldn’t tell the colour
of her eyes but they were large and I could tell she was afraid.

“You
did?  That’s brilliant Miss.....?”

She
looked away, “I’d rather not say the others don’t know I’m speaking to you,
they think I’m just getting another bottle of wine from my house.  We have a
book club this night every week.”

“It’s
ok, you don’t have to give me your name.”

“There
was a car that left just before the emergency services arrived.  I remember
because its headlights shone into the front room on full beam and nearly
blinded us as we got up to see what had happened.  I’m not used to all this
shooting like the others; I’ve only just moved to the area with my husband for
work.  They’re nice people, just not very trusting of strangers who ask
questions,” she seemed scared of the group of women, more so than the fact that
there had been a brutal set of murders across from her house.

“Thank
you very much, that could be very helpful.  I don’t suppose you saw the make or
model of the car or anything like that?”

She
shook her head, “No I’m sorry, I tried to stay as far away from the window as
possible when I heard the shots.  I mean at first I thought that they were
perhaps just fireworks but they were so loud, one after another.  Like I said
I’m not used to it but living around here you have to deal with the fact that
it is a way of life for a lot of people.  The others…they just laugh it off but
it took all of my willpower not to dive to the floor.”

“I
understand it is a very distressing period.  Could give you my card in case
there is anything more remember it could be useful,” I said digging out one of
the fake business cards I had in my wallet and handing it to her, “Thank you
again, you better be getting back inside.”

“Yes,
yes,” she said rushing back to the house.

“Miss,
Miss,” I called out, stopping her in her tracks before she reached the
threshold, “Don’t forget the wine.”

After
speaking to the reticent woman, I had asked questions to seven other residents
with little improvement on the information I already had.  I found out that the
house at number forty two had been boarded up for the better part of a month
and that it was a shame the Smithes had been forced to leave.  None of which
was really that helpful.  No one else had seen the suspicious car leave either,
the driver obviously correcting the lighting problem quickly as they left.  I
was certain that the shooting had been carried out with a rifle.  The damage
that had been inflicted on the bodies and the holes left in the wooden walls
indicated severe explosive power and I didn’t think that a pistol would have
been that deadly.

The
newspapers and television stations agreed on that fact and I was surprised the
police had released the information.  They suggested that there was some link
to the gang shootings from earlier as it appeared one of the football teams had
connections with the drug groups in the area.  It seemed strange to me however
that a rival gang would open fire on civilians.  The recent attacks had all
been well executed killings.  Firing into a crowd was not what I had expected
but if it was gang related I could appreciate the shock value.

I
fell asleep to the rolling reports on the news channels about the increased
police presence in the Elsworth area and how this was one of the worst
shootings in the history of the country.  When I woke up the television was
still on and the same pictures scrolled past.  I showered and looked at the
bruises on my torso and legs.  My shins, which Micky had targeted, were a deep
shade of purple and heavily swollen.  I was regretting not staying in the hotel
room and just icing my body after the fight.

My
mother, when I was growing up, swore by a set of medicines and it was her
belief that aspirin could cure any ailment.  I swallowed a couple of pills with
a glass of water whilst I waited for the kettle to boil but I didn’t expect
them to help the throbbing pain in my legs.

Sitting
on the bed I raised the volume on the television.  It appeared that there had
been a break in the case in the form of shell casings being found.  Everything
seemed to be getting out of control in Liverpool and I felt myself being drawn
further into a large investigation.  Someone using a rifle had killed Boulton,
I was certain of that, and now there had been a mass killing with the same sort
of weapon.  In such a close community and in such a manner, it suggested that
it was the same shooter even if the modus operandi was different.

The
television cut to a police spokesman stood in front of a blue large screen with
unit badges on it and with a table with microphones before him.  I listened
intently as the Chief Constable stated that the local force was to increase
their presence yet again.  They could confirm that this shooting was carried
out by a rifle and were also looking into the registered owners of weapons that
fired 7.62x39 millimetre ammunition.  Now as I’ve stated I am no expert in guns
but I do know that the AK-47 fires that sort of bullet.  Before I could even
dial his number Rich was ringing me.

“Have
you seen the news this morning?”

“Morning
Rich, yes I have.”

“I’ve
got to say mate; this looks like the work of Ambrose from the gun club if you
ask me.”

I
nodded but still had reservations, “We don’t know anything about the man.  He
could be completely innocent.”

“True
but they said they found casing on the scene that matched a 7.62x39 millimetre
round which is the same fired by his CZ.  I think we should go pay him a visit
see if he is involved.  Maybe if we question him just right he’ll cop for the
Boulton shooting as well.”

It
was strange to hear Rich talk in such a rushed and essentially giddy manner
since he was usually very relaxed but I got the feeling it showed how much he
wanted to help.  What worried me was I had no idea what he meant when he said
‘question him just right’.  I wasn’t above using violence to get information
especially now that I wasn’t shackled to upholding the law but Rich had a murky
past which suggested he knew ways of making people talk that troubled even my
sensibilities, “I hate to say it, Rich, but it may just be better calling in
the police on this one especially if he is armed.  Not like we want to go
knocking down doors unarmed when they are owned by gun nuts.”

Rich
was silent for a moment, “True, but I think we should still look into this guy
it’s too much of a coincidence.  If the case isn’t there he might not admit to
shooting Boulton which leaves your boy still inside.”

I
hate to admit it but he was right.  If Leo Ambrose was the shooter he had no
reason to admit to another shooting, he would be serving the rest of his life
in prison anyway.  There was the possibility he would say it was him for the
notoriety but that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take, “Rich, I’m going to see
someone this morning that might be of some use in the case.  I’ll make a couple
calls as well and if I haven’t made any progress by lunch time in the
investigation we’ll go round and have a word with Ambrose.”

“Sounds
like a plan my friend.  I’ll make sure I’m ready.  Speak to you soon.”

When
he hung up I was left wondering what he meant by be ready.  Sometimes having
people like Rich in my life was just too much excitement.