Riot Page 38

  He switched the lights back on and turned to return to his armchair to be confronted by a man in a black ski mask aiming a pistol at his forehead.

  “Jules Maguire says hi,” said Mark before pulling the trigger.

  McGinnis’s head snapped back, coating the wall behind him in brain matter and splinters of skull. He staggered about for a moment, jaw hanging open in shock before crumpling to the floor.

  Mark took a photo of the body on his phone before starting work on the surprise Jules wanted him to leave for Dwyer to find.

  Declan positively roared with rage and tipped over the table that held heaps of different maps of the city.

  “Take it easy,” Ronan barked at him. “That’s not helping.”

  “Well I’ve no idea where that fucking biker bitch is hiding out. No one around here does. Neither can I use my old information network because the two-faced bastards would run to her the second I contacted them.”

  “We need to try and draw her out again.”

  “She won’t risk doing that after what happened at the casino. She’d just send one of her minions to deal with any problem.”

  Declan didn’t say it but facing off against Ryan Law had been unsettling. In some ways he was just like his sister but in others he was the complete opposite. Whereas she was loud and overtly violent, he was quiet, understated even, which was just as intimidating. Even now the memory of the encounter at the casino caused goosebumps to rise on Declan’s spine. He’d had Ryan Law at his mercy but he’d so easily turned the tables on him. “There’s only one reason she’d stick her head above the parapet - her kids.”

  “Oh no,” said Ronan. “I’ve done some shitty things in my time but I have never hurt a wee one and I’m not about to start now.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” exclaimed Declan. “Because I’m all out of ideas.”

  “You’ve had an idea?” said Ronan when Declan went rigid.

  “Jez’s wife Cathy is one of Jules’s best friends and she’s still laid up in hospital.”

  “Now that’s more like it.”

  “Jules will have sent people to protect her but she’s stretched thin at the moment. She could be using her own people or Riley Cutter’s.”

  “Who?”

  “Riley Cutter. He’s married to Beth Cutter, Alex Maguire’s widow. Thanks to his death she inherited all his legitimate businesses and she owns a sizeable chunk of the city. Riley is Ryan’s half-brother. Ex-SAS and fucking lethal. He runs Battler and Bruiser’s Manchester branch of their security firm and he handles some really high class clients.”

  “So he’s not to be taken lightly?”

  “Not at all. In my opinion physically he’s the most dangerous of them all. It’s only the fact that he’s legitimate that cages him. If he worked for the family they would be entirely untouchable, although he has fought for them during their wars.”

  “Is it likely he’s guarding Cathy?”

  “It’s certainly possible. He does like to take on family contracts personally but he can’t be there all the time, he has to eat and rest. But his people are almost as good as he is.”

  “I don’t want to tackle someone who’s ex-Regiment,” said Ronan. “So we need to strike when it’s one of his people on guard.”

  “We’ll need to set up watch at the hospital but we’ll have to be discreet or they’ll spot us.”

  “Let’s send in Jordan. That’s his speciality. Jordan,” he called.

  From a room deeper in the small flat Declan was temporarily renting strode a short, wiry man. Jordan’s biggest advantage was that he looked utterly harmless, as though a strong breeze could knock him down. His face and expression resembled that of a benign tortoise, a dreamy smile permanently playing on his lips. But this harmless façade hid the complete lunatic that dwelt beneath. Not that Jordan’s insanity ever got beyond his control, he remained ice cold while carrying out the most appalling atrocities. But his harmless demeanour meant he could go pretty much anywhere unnoticed.

  “We’ve got a job for you,” Ronan told him. “You’re going to love it.”

  Jordan’s impassive dreamy face lit up with glee.

  Liam groaned and shifted on his hospital bed, unable to find any respite from his pain despite the cocktail of painkillers he was on. At first he couldn’t recall what had happened until he remembered the figure in black in his house. Who had it been? He’d known them.

  His body jumped as the memory stuck him. It had been Rachel Law. She’d done this to him.

  “Liam?” said a soft voice. “Are you awake?”

  Jenna flickered into his hazy field of vision. He looked down and saw both his legs were in plaster. His left arm was in a cast too.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he muttered, talking causing him more pain.

  “To see how my poor dear husband is doing,” she replied.

  Liam frowned. By God, even his fucking eyebrows hurt. How was that possible? Also, Jenna was actually being facetious with him. When he was back on his feet he’d make her pay. “Don’t get a smart mouth now, you’re not intelligent enough.”

  “I wouldn’t go getting so high and mighty Liam. You’re finished. I’m divorcing you.”

  His laugh was almost a choke. “Good. I’ll make sure I get all your money. That’s the only thing you’re good for.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Your senior partner is representing me.”

  “Donald? He wouldn’t do that.”

  “He already has. You’ve been kicked out of the firm by the way.”

  Liam thought the painkillers must be making him hear things. “What?”

  “Donald and the other senior partners have kicked you off the board. You no longer have a job. I also have them backing me to the hilt in the divorce. They’ll make sure I get everything, including Freddie. You won’t be allowed anywhere near him ever again.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “Already have. I’ve also got a restraining order against you, meaning you’re allowed nowhere near the house. All your money is mine too and your credit cards have been cancelled.”

  “You’re a lying bitch.”

  Jenna held up the paperwork in turn for him to see, Liam squinting at the pieces of paper as she slowly shuffled through them.

  “Your job, your home, your money, your marriage and your son have all been taken from you. You have nothing.”

  “You…you can’t do this.”

  “I’m flattered you think I did this but I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit.” She leaned into him. “After how many women you’ve destroyed it’s karma that you’ve been destroyed by a woman.”

  “Rachel Law did this?”

  “Yes. You really did bite off more than you can chew this time. Did you really think you could get the best of a woman like that?”

  “Where are you going?” he said when she got to her feet.

  “Going. I don’t want to look at you any longer. Now I’ve finally got rid of you my life can begin. I’m taking Freddie away for a little holiday, once the police have finished with him. He’s owned up to attacking Isabella by the way. I made him do it. I will not allow him to turn out like you. The police and Isabella and her family have been kind to him, he won’t be prosecuted but after the fright he’s had he’s changed for the better. Once he’s been away from your toxic presence for a while he’ll become the sweet boy he used to be.”

  “You can’t go…I need help.”

  “Oh, so you’re begging me for something now are you after the years of abuse you subjected me to? Well you can piss right off Liam, I’m sick of you. You’re on your own. Goodbye.”

  “No wait, Jenna. Get back here.” Hope filled his heart when she hesitated and looked back at him over her shoulder.

  “By the way,” she said, “Your precious Lexus has been crushed to bits. A joy-rider nicked it and crashed it into a tree. So sad.”

  “Don’t go Jenna, please. I can’t even wipe my own arse.”
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  “Appropriate seeing how you’re a piece of shit.”

  Jenna stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, exhilarated. Liam’s cries for her to come back followed her down the corridor as she left but she ignored them. Finally she was free.

  As she walked away, feeling fabulous, she failed to notice Rachel lurking in the corridor. She had overheard every word and was now enjoying listening to Liam bawling his eyes out. Justice, at last.

  Ashley strode down the corridor towards her, looking grim. She tilted back her head, determined to defend herself against the telling off she was undoubtedly about to receive.

  “I take it you’re here to interview Liam?” she said.

  “I am,” he replied. “I heard that not only was he attacked by an unidentified intruder but he’s lost his job, his wife is divorcing him, he’s not allowed to go anywhere near his home, his credit cards have been cancelled and his beloved car is now a cube.”

  “You heard right.”

  “Nice work,” he whispered with a smile before walking into Liam’s room, closing the door behind him, leaving Rachel grinning in the corridor.

  Dwyer got out of his car clutching a couple of shopping bags and walked up the steps to the house McGinnis was hiding out in. He was glad when Ray didn’t open the door for him, perhaps he was finally learning to take his personal security seriously.

  He unlocked the door and stepped inside to be greeted by gloom. Good. He was keeping the curtains shut too.

  “Only me,” he called.

  Silence was his response.

  Dwyer let the carrier bags slide from his hands, scattering their contents across the hallway floor as his heart pounded in his chest. Ray was usually there to greet him, anxious for some company, even though he couldn’t stand the man who was keeping him alive, ready to tear into the cans of lager Dwyer always bought, no matter what time of day it was. But he wasn’t here and the house was silent.

  A coppery tang drifted to him on the stale air, slightly overwhelmed by the stench of Ray’s terminally manky feet.

  “No, no, no,” cried Dwyer, racing into the front room.

  He came to a sudden halt in the doorway, shock turning his body to stone.

  Ray hung from the light fitting in the centre of the room, his head tilted to one side, eyes closed, a neat hole in the centre of his forehead. Judging by the fact that his eyes weren’t bulging out of his head and his tongue wasn’t protruding, he’d been dead when he’d been strung up. The curtains were closed so no one passing by outside had noticed. Overlaying this image was the memory of the photos he’d seen of his brother hanging in his prison cell. The official verdict had been suicide, after all he had just been sent down for life for murder, attempted murder and corruption but Dwyer knew his brother had been killed because of that black eyed bitch. Dwyer had spent a long time pouring over those photos, which he’d snaffled from the official files, his rage and need for revenge steadily building up. Now the pain of his brother’s death surged back, the hurt as fresh as it had been when he’d first learned of his death.

  The feeling returned to Dwyer’s limbs and he stepped into the room on shaky legs. The back of Ray’s skull was hanging open. Blood and brain matter were sprayed up one wall and on the floor, so it was clear where the murder had taken place. Ray had been dead, the killer didn’t need to hang him but that had been a message to himself, the person they knew would find Ray, as well as another insult to his deceased brother.

  “Fuck,” he roared.

  He almost kicked over the coffee table, which was strewn with lager cans, overflowing ashtrays and chocolate bar wrappers but that would have made a mess of the crime scene and possibly contaminated any evidence. Thank God the policeman in him had kicked in.

  After calling the murder in, he headed to the back of the house to find the kitchen door closed but unlocked. Studying it he saw evidence that it had been picked. At least he knew how the killer had gained entry. He collected the dropped shopping and dumped it on the kitchen worktop so no one would trip over it. Next on his list was to preserve the scene, so he exited by the front door, which he locked behind him and sat on the front steps, waiting for back-up to arrive.

  As he waited he mulled over this shocking turn of events while trying to keep at bay the fury wanting to overtake him. Jules Maguire had ordered this hit, of that there was no doubt. But how had she known Ray was here? He’d told no one and he hadn’t been followed, on that he was certain. He knew it was very likely Blackpool was under the sway of the Maguires and Laws but it was the height of summer, the town was heaving with tourists. The sheer volume of crowds was why he’d felt it safe to stash Ray here. He could have sent him further south, out of their territory but it would have been very difficult for him to keep an eye on Ray with the hours he worked. Blackpool had been just far enough away from Manchester but not so far as it would have meant he could only visit Ray sporadically. How had one lone man who remained indoors in the huge number of people currently staying in Blackpool been spotted? The stupid bastard must have left the house, it was the only explanation. How many times had he warned him not to do that?

  Barely five minutes later two police cars pulled up, their sirens blaring, making Dwyer wince followed by a black transit van containing scenes of crime officers. Four uniformed officers got out of the car as well as a plain clothes detective. The man was thin and ferrety-looking, regarding everything with suspicion, including Dwyer himself.

  “DI Marlow, Lancashire Constabulary,” he said, flashing his warrant card with the arrogance of someone who is used to taking charge everywhere he goes.

  Dwyer produced his own warrant card. “DCI Dwyer,” he replied with an air of self-satisfaction. “Greater Manchester Police.”

  Marlow snapped to attention. “Sir. We had a call about a body being found?”

  Dwyer nodded wearily. “I was the one who found it.”

  He unlocked the door and Marlow followed him in.

  “Nasty,” was Marlow’s only comment as they gazed at the hanging body.

  They left the scenes of crime officers to do their thing in the house and the uniformed officers to begin canvassing the neighbours, retreating into one of the police cars to talk.

  “So who was he Sir?” began Marlow.

  Dwyer didn’t like the man, it was hard not to when he looked like a suspicious weasel. “His name was Ray McGinnis and he was a witness against the Maguires and Laws. I take it you know who they are?”

  “Only too well. They run the drugs in this town.”

  “I spoke to one of your officers in Lancashire’s Serious and Organised Crime Unit and they said they had no concrete evidence of that.”

  “It’s true, we didn’t. I learnt something only yesterday that confirmed it.”

  “Then why did no one let me know?”

  “Word hasn’t got round yet. You see, they don’t run it themselves, they have someone here to do it on their behalf and I’ve only just identified them. Her name’s Faith Chambers, a bitch of the first order I can tell you.”

  Dwyer was beginning to feel a little affinity for the man. Judging by the look on his face he felt about this Faith just as he felt about Rachel Law.

  “Her family’s been career criminals all their lives, they were taught by their dad. He’s dead now thankfully. When he pegged it the crime rate around here dropped, that’s how bad they are. Anyway, her brother’s in Manchester Prison for murder. I sent that bastard down personally. He was a copper.”

  Dwyer glowered. He hated bent coppers. He failed to realise he himself fell into that category.

  “He was caught up in that riot,” continued Marlow. “Sadly he’s still alive. Anyway, Faith’s really smart and she’s organised her brothers who aren’t in prison as her lieutenants. I’ve not got anything concrete to bring her in with yet but I’ll get it. She’s trying to get her eldest brother released, she says he’s innocent.”

  Dwyer raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is he?”
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  “No,” he snapped. “Sir,” he added with a scowl.

  His little outburst made Dwyer smile.

  “Anyway,” continued Marlow. “The Chambers operate out of a nightclub on the front called Pulse. You should see the cow swanning about like she owns the town.”

  “Would she be capable of shooting Ray in the head and stringing him up from the light fitting?”

  “She’s capable of anything, believe me. Faith’s ex-army, so she knows how to handle a gun. If she didn’t do it personally she was involved in some way.”

  They were interrupted by one of the uniformed officers knocking on the window. Marlow flung open the door and glared up at him. “What?”

  “I wanted to let you know Sir that all the neighbours say last night a parade marched down this street, cheering and dancing. They were setting off fireworks too. It fits in with the time of death forensics have estimated, which was nine o’clock last night.”

  “How big was this parade?” said Marlow.

  “Estimates range from fifty people to two hundred and fifty, depending on how much the witness had to drink,” grinned the constable.

  “It was a distraction so no one would see the killer,” said Dwyer. “Who would notice him in that lot? And the fireworks covered up the sound of the murder and the killer gaining entry to the house. If Ray was distracted, looking out of the window at the parade, he wouldn’t notice his killer entering by the back door.”

  “Seems plausible,” said Marlow.

  “Of course it’s plausible,” retorted Dwyer.

  “This is Faith Chambers,” scowled Marlow. “A few months ago a local gangster called Lenny Paisley went missing. Vanished off the face of the earth. The very night he disappeared there was a riot on the streets of the town. It was rumoured the riot was initiated by the Chambers’ siblings, although we never found any proof of that. It was a distraction so Faith could top Lenny and take over the town, on behalf of the Maguires.”

  Finally the pieces fell into place. “Jules used the Chambers family to cause the distraction but my guess is she used one of her own people to commit the actual murder, she would want it done by one of her inner circle, it would feel safer for her that way, probably Mark Cameron, her chief hitman. Damn,” he snarled. “If I’d known Jules had such close connections to Blackpool I would have hidden Ray somewhere else.”