Cath Staincliffe - Ruthless

It was all going to be all right.

‘What the fuck is going on out there? See this?’ Gill held up a copy of the Sun . DEATH TOWN screamed the headline. ‘We’ve got three murders, a high-profile drug death, and now people are running around beating up and shooting at potential witnesses. We know the same weapon was used in all three killings but we do not have that weapon.’ She took a breath. ‘What we do have is a man in custody, in possession of incriminating evidence. The clock’s ticking and we need more on him. Anyone?’

Rachel spoke up. ‘For the timeline, Tandy left the family home on Friday. He’d heard about the Kavanagh murder, reckoned it was good news. His missus had had enough. They argued. No contact between him and the family since, according to her.’

‘The lab has found his DNA on the gloves.’

‘Brilliant!’ Rachel said.

‘Hold your horses – there’s also another profile,’ Gill said.

‘On the system?’ Janet asked.

‘No,’ Gill said. It weakened their case. Tandy’s defence could always claim that someone else, identity unknown, wore the gloves, fired the gun and used the accelerant.

‘It’s not Stanley Keane, he is on the DNA database?’ Janet again.

‘Yes he is and it’s not him,’ Kevin said.

‘Where is Keane?’ Gill said.

‘No sign.’ This from Mitch.

‘Time we paid Marcus Williams a visit, maybe Keane is staying there,’ Gill said.

‘Are you thinking Keane might have shot Lydia and Victor?’ said Janet.

‘The items recovered, the gloves, were at his address, we can link him to Shirelle and the drug business, he’s a known associate of Williams but… the DNA doesn’t fit.’ Gill felt boxed in; the evidence they acquired kept weakening the case rather than supporting their suspicions. ‘Sticking with Tandy,’ she went on, ‘if he is our killer, what’s the likely sequence of events? Starting with his release.’

‘We know he went to the George Inn for the EBA meeting and that the Perry twins were there,’ said Janet.

‘And he met with Neil Perry at Bobbins on Tuesday,’ said Rachel, ‘possibly to supply the weapon. He gets chucked out by his missus on Friday when he’s cheering about the first shooting. He takes his gear, the firearms, clothes, the gloves and stuff, to Keane’s.’

‘At some point he gets the gun back from the Perrys,’ Janet said, ‘he acquires a can of barbecue lighter fuel and he goes to the warehouse, shoots the victims, sets the fire. Returns to Keane’s.’

‘What then?’ said Gill. ‘Where is the gun now? And where did he get the lighter fuel? It’s a plausible narrative as far as it goes but at the moment it’s a fairy story. We need much more.’ The lack of CCTV in the area was another obstacle, no record of who was going to and from the warehouse or on the approach roads.

‘We have no motive-’ Janet said.

‘Unless Tandy wanted to make a name for himself with the Bulldogs. Bit of ethnic cleansing,’ said Mitch.

‘Or there’s some drugs war simmering, something we’ve not uncovered,’ said Lee.

‘However,’ Gill held up her hands, ‘motive is the least of our concerns. Janet and Rachel, you carry on checking for any sightings of Tandy with the neighbours and then at Keane’s. Mitch and Lee, pay a visit to Williams, we get a search warrant.’

Her phone rang. ‘DCI Murray.’

‘Alan here, from ballistics.’

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘Bullets recovered from the Manton Road address, we’ve run a comparison and they match those used in all three murder cases.’

Gill felt dizzy. ‘All of them?’

‘Yes, one weapon, six bullets, all fired from the same gun. The one you’re looking for,’ he said, emphasizing the point.

‘Thanks, Alan. The missing gun,’ she told the team, ‘it was used in last night’s attack at Tandy’s house.’

‘Could that be Keane?’ said Rachel. ‘Sending a warning to Tandy to keep his gob shut?’

‘It could be bloody Batman for all we know,’ Gill said, ‘but it tells us that if Tandy did the warehouse murders, he got rid of the gun between Friday night and Monday when we brought him in. We may never get that gun.’ In organized crime, weapons were passed from hand to hand, hired, sold, borrowed, hidden, looked after. The same weapon used by different people in the commission of diverse offences, as appeared to be the case now.

‘Maybe Tandy just went apeshit, lost the plot,’ Rachel said. ‘He’s out and back home but it’s the same shitty little life. His wife is on at him, she actually tells him to do one. So what’s it all for? He pulls a Terminator, picks on someone to hurt, someone who won’t stand a chance. Justifies it to himself ’cos he’s a racist dickhead.’

‘Why copy the Kavanagh killing?’ Gill said.

‘He’d been bigging it up,’ Rachel said. ‘That’s why Gloria chucked him out – well, partly. He gets the idea then.’

‘How did he know to go after the victims?’ Janet asked. ‘Victor and Lydia? He’s not a user.’

‘No,’ Gill agreed, ‘nothing on his medical.’

‘Stuff in the house, though,’ Kevin said, ‘Keane’s house.’

‘But not in the room Tandy was occupying.’ This from Lee.

‘His missus said he never touched drugs,’ said Rachel.

‘What if the twins told him about them? Could it be a challenge? We’ll do the wino, you do the black kids,’ Rachel said, ‘we can tell you where they’ll be.’

Gill sighed. ‘Greg Tandy is a career criminal, a gun man. I can’t see him entering some pact with a pair of lowlife scumbags like the Perry twins.’

‘If it was Tandy, he’d know to get rid of evidence,’ Rachel said, ‘so why hang on to the gloves then?’

‘Could Keane have been involved and then fitted Tandy up?’ Gill said.

No one answered.

‘Enough,’ Gill said. ‘Bring me something solid, quick as you like.’

They got bugger all from Tandy’s neighbours, apart from a lot of nosy questions about where the wife and boy had gone and rumours that Greg had shot at his own family. Given he was in custody at the time, that didn’t hold water. As for anyone seeing him any time on the Friday evening going to or from the warehouse, they drew a big fat blank.

Over in Werneth, where Stanley Keane lived, there were no fences at the front of the properties so it would be easy for the residents to see people coming and going. The neighbours to the left of Keane were out, no cars in the drive, no one home. At the other side, Janet and Rachel were greeted by a young woman in a yellow onesie, her eyes furred with fake lashes and her fingernails individually designed.

She’d not really paid attention to next door until all the police showed up. Stan Keane was a nice man, friendly enough. No, she didn’t know him well. Hadn’t seen him for a few days.

Janet showed her a photograph of Greg Tandy. ‘What about this man?’

‘The one you arrested Monday. Saw him then. You were there.’ She nodded at Rachel.

‘That’s right.’

‘Before that, can you remember when you first saw him?’ Janet said.

The woman narrowed her eyes. ‘Today is Wednesday?’

‘Yes.’

She sucked her teeth, dazzling white, Janet noticed, set off by vivid-pink lipstick. ‘Friday. ’Cos I was heading out. Girls’ night.’ She seemed pleased that she could remember.

‘What time was this?’

‘Half seven,’ she said.

‘And where was this man?’ said Janet.

‘He was going out too, just ahead of me.’

Heading for the warehouse, wondered Janet? ‘Was he carrying anything?’

‘Not that I remember.’