Jaime Raven - The Alibi - A gripping crime thriller full of secrets, lies and revenge

He was aware that the tentacles of corruption reached into the guts of every force in the UK.

So he would know not to trust anyone – not even those officers who were working alongside him on the investigation.

Danny Shapiro

Danny tried to focus his mind as he showered and shaved. But it wasn’t easy because of the rising sense of panic inside him. He was used to being in control, staying one step ahead of everyone else. Now he was on the back foot and struggling to see how he’d be able to convince the filth that he didn’t kill his ex-wife.

There was no way he could admit to being in Megan’s house last night, or that he had been anywhere near the area.

He’d been thinking about the CCTV cameras that would have picked him up during the walk from Clapham to Balham and felt sure the cops would struggle to identify him from any footage. It had been raining, after all, and he’d been wearing a hoody.

But even if he struck lucky there he still couldn’t account for his movements. They would probably know by now that he hadn’t spent the evening at the Bermondsey flat. The concierge would have confirmed that he hadn’t been back there since Thursday. He couldn’t even say he’d been here all evening – in the house that he actually considered his home and that precious few people knew existed.

A security camera on the front of the building and a CCTV camera on the street would have recorded him arriving back at about 11.30. That in itself would be another nail in his coffin.

What he needed was a cast-iron alibi and he didn’t have one. There were any number of people working for him who could provide him with a false one, but he wasn’t sure he had enough time to get it sorted. He’d first have to decide who he trusted, then find out what they were doing last night, before agreeing a story. Any mistakes on their part, any holes in the story, and the whole thing would come unstuck.

Bishop would have been the obvious choice, but Danny knew for a fact that his enforcer had spent the evening at their new club in Streatham.

Besides, as soon as he started asking people to give him an alibi they’d assume it was a sign of guilt and that he had killed Megan. He had been under pressure anyway to warn her off since she’d starting threatening to reveal details about the firm in her autobiography. Bishop and some of the other crew members had been concerned that she’d land them all in the shit.

Danny had tried to assure them that she was bluffing and knew very little about his business affairs. He’d nevertheless agreed to sort her out. But Megan had ignored his warnings, and even when he had offered her 100 grand ‘for old times’ sake’ she had rejected it and continued to demand half a million.

Out of principle he would never have paid her that much, but he would probably have offered her another 100 k. If that still hadn’t been enough to shut her up he wasn’t sure what he’d have done. Now, of course, he didn’t have to worry.

Not for the first time he wondered if she’d been telling the truth when she told him she had a publisher. For all he knew she wasn’t even writing a book. Maybe it was just a desperate attempt to force him into giving her money.

He could feel the blood pulsing in his neck as he got dressed. Casual clothes as usual. Jeans, shirt, leather jacket. When he checked himself in the mirror he got a shock. His face was gaunt and pale, the lips set in a tight line.

He was pouring himself a cup of coffee when the landline phone rang for the second time that morning. After a brief hesitation he decided to answer it, and when he heard Bishop’s voice the relief surged through him.

‘Is that you, boss?’

‘Who else would it be on this number?’ Danny said.

‘I called earlier and there was no answer. Wasn’t sure if you were there.’

‘I was in the shower.’

‘Right. Well, I take it you’ve heard about Megan.’

‘Of course. It’s all over the fucking news.’

‘At least she no longer poses a threat,’ Bishop said. ‘You want me to pass on a message to the lads?’

‘Yeah. You can tell them I wasn’t responsible. I haven’t a fucking clue who topped her.’

‘’Course you haven’t, boss. That goes without saying. But the Old Bill are looking for you anyway in case you don’t know. I’ve just had a call from the office. They turned up there mob-handed about ten minutes ago and they’ve also been to your flat.’

‘Well, I’ll talk to them when I’m good and ready. Where are you?’

‘On my way to the office. We were planning to have a team talk this morning or had you forgotten?’

‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ Danny said. ‘But I’ll be late. I’ve got something to do first.’

‘No problem. How do you feel about Megan?’

‘I’m gutted. How do you think I feel? I was married to the woman for three years. And regardless of what a nuisance she’s been since she left me, I wouldn’t have wished this on her.’

‘Yeah, I see what you mean.’

Danny wasn’t surprised that Bishop appeared unmoved. The man didn’t give a rat’s arse about anyone. He’d known Megan for as long as Danny had and had been one of the few people who hadn’t disapproved of the marriage. But even back then he wouldn’t have shed a tear if she’d fallen under a bus. In fact he wouldn’t have hesitated for a second if Danny had instructed him to push her under one.

That was the thing about Bishop. He had the perfect mind-set for the job he did. Granted, he was a psycho who relished hurting people. It was how he’d made a name for himself during his days in Southampton. And why the Old Bill there had been so glad to get shot of him. But he was also a fiercely loyal enforcer and committed consigliere . And when you ran an operation that meant you had to deal with the dregs of society he was the kind of person you wanted at your side.

‘I take it you’ve got an alibi for last night, boss,’ Bishop said.

‘Naturally.’

‘That’s good, because you’re gonna feel some heat over this. If there’s anything you need me to do then let me know.’

Danny was tempted to seek his advice but decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead he told Bishop he would catch up with him later.

He replaced the receiver and drew in a breath. The house suddenly felt hot and airless.

He switched on the TV and watched the news again while drinking his coffee. Megan’s murder was still the dominant story and reports were now coming live from the scene. No arrests had been made and it sounded like the police had no leads. That wasn’t good. It meant that the problem wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

An alibi. He desperately needed one, and fast. But his options were dangerously limited. And he was running out of time.

As he paced the kitchen floor, his heart pounding, he found himself wishing he could just pick up the phone and call his father. Callum would know what to do, just like he always did.

But his dad was banged up because he’d been careless. And since the day of his arrest it had been up to Danny to sort out his own problems.

Danny had always admired his dad. Callum Shapiro had created a thriving business in one of the toughest parts of London.

He had been inspired by his boyhood heroes – Charlie and Eddie Richardson. The Richardson gang had reigned supreme over the south London manor during the Sixties. Their speciality was torture, including cutting off toes with bolt cutters, pulling out teeth with pliers, and nailing victims to the floor with six-inch nails.

The pair invested in scrap metal and fruit machines, businesses they used as fronts for racketeering, drug dealing, extortion, prostitution, stolen goods, and loan sharking.