Cath Staincliffe: Desperate Measures

‘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.