The avon rogue, p.34
The Avon Rogue, page 34
‘Very good, sir.’
The firearms units moved into position at 15.45 in unmarked cars. The windows had tainted glass, so it was virtually impossible to see inside the car. There were three cars, and each contained three officers. The officers were armed with rifles and pistols as well as tasers. By 16.00 it was dark and the road was very quiet. It was another bitterly cold day, so few pedestrians were around. At 18.05 a message came over the radio from the spotter car. Chadwell and Perry had left the scrapyard. They were driving a red Skoda. Bryan Stevens reckoned that they would arrive in about forty minutes. He ordered his officers to stand by.
Chadwell was driving. He had made several trips to the location over the past week. He had decided that he would not actually park the car outside Murray’s house. It would be risky taking the car to the house as a neighbour could give the car details to the police. It would be better to park the car a few streets away and walk. It was unlikely that any witnesses would follow them. Chadwell and Perry were both wearing heavy overcoats, and both had a gun in their pocket.
The traffic was slow and it was not until a few minutes before seven that Chadwell parked the car. The road was deserted apart from a few parked cars. It would take them five minutes to walk to Murray’s house. Before getting out of the car, both men put on baseball caps, thus making it harder to identify them. Chadwell locked the car and they began walking to the house. They had to turn a corner which was only about twenty metres from the house. Bryan Stevens’ team spotted the two men. With it being dark and the men wearing baseball caps, they assumed that they were just a couple of passers by.
Suddenly Murray’s front door opened and out walked Jason Andrews, Jeff Roberts and Murray. They were talking amongst themselves and did not appear to have a care in the world. Murray said, ‘I am looking forward to this Indian meal, I haven’t had one for about two weeks.’
Stevens shouted down the radio. ‘It looks like Murray and his mates are going out. Keep your eyes open for that red Skoda, it must be close by now.’
Chadwell spotted Murray and said to Perry, ‘Come on, let’s go.’
They began running and drew their weapons. Murray was just getting into the driver’s seat when Chadwell pulled the trigger. The bullet smashed into his right temple, and he collapsed onto the road, very much dead.
Stevens yelled into his microphone. ‘Go go go. Holy shit’ Perry shot Andrews in the face and Chadwell shot Roberts in the chest. Both died almost immediately. Bryan Stevens was not for giving them a warning. He used his high-powered rifle and shot Chadwell in the back of the head. His brains landed on the roof of the car. Perry turned to fire at Stevens. It was his last voluntary movement. Stevens fired and this time the bullet hit Perry in the forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Epilogue
The next morning Skelton was in the kitchen. He had let the boys out into the garden and they were now enjoying a Bonio. He switched the television on and the main news story was the shooting of the five men in Bath. Skelton was smiling. He had at last avenged his best friend’s murder. Murray was dead and the icing on the cake was that Chadwell had also been killed. He took two mugs of tea upstairs and gave one to Ken. He stepped into the shower and began singing. He was looking forward to calling Joe Reilly’s widow, Sarah, with the good news. He and Ken would take her and her son Daniel out to lunch as soon as possible.
Skelton got dressed and put on a blue overcoat and scarf. He also put on a pair of gloves. He picked up his case and put his iPad inside. He said goodbye to Ken and the dogs and began walking into Bath. It was a cold frosty morning, but he felt on top of the world. There would of course be an independent police investigation into the shootings, but he was confident that that would be a formality. There would be a party in the incident room, but he would take Alexander and Rees to the pub for lunch. It would be Christmas in a few days and his birthday was on Christmas Eve. Skelton called Ken when he got to the office. They would be celebrating Skelton’s birthday early in the Saracen’s Head!
Skelton would enjoy raising his glass and toasting a rogue no more and to the demise of Murray.
About The Author
Dan Rafferty was born in a small town some 10 miles east of Glasgow.
The youngest of four boys, he initially worked in law before moving to London where he enjoyed a highly successful career in finance.
For the past twenty years he has practised as an Independent Expert Witness in the High Court of Justice.
He retired to become an author of crime novels and lives with his partner of forty-one years, and their three black Labradors on the southern slopes of the beautiful Georgian city of Bath.
Coming soon…
Death in Bath
Here is a taster of the next book in the series.
Chapter One
It was Christmas day morning and Detective Chief Inspector Dan Skelton was busy in the kitchen, preparing the turkey for the oven. He had already boiled the potatoes which would go into the oven later to become roast potatoes. It was only eight o’clock and he was still in his dressing gown. His three black labradors consisting of Brenty-boy, Josh and Archie were lying on their beds waiting for Skelton’s partner Ken, to take them out for the morning walk. Although it was Christmas, Skelton had to go into work. It would only be a skeleton staff of officers on duty at the police station today. Christmas was usually a very quiet day for the police service, although it sometimes surprised him that hard nosed criminals showed no respect for Christmas day.
Ken came down-stairs and was immediately greeted by the boys who were wagging their tails furiously. Skelton smiled at his partner and said, “I have prepared all the food, and I have written down when the turkey and potatoes need to go into the oven. I should be home by six and we can have dinner at seven. Now I need to go shower and shave. I will drive to the station this morning as Bill has the day off and I might have to go out on a call.” Skelton was referring to his deputy Detective Sergeant Bill Alexander, who like Skelton was a Scotsman. Whilst Skelton had grown up just ten miles east of Glasgow and had a refined Scottish accent, Alexander on the other hand had a very broad Glasgow accent. The two men had become very close friends particularly after Alexander had saved Skelton’s life in a terrorist attack. Skelton said goodbye to Ken and the boys and went upstairs to shower and shave. Skelton loved taking a shower and had discovered that he did his best thinking whilst under the hot water.
As he got dressed in a bespoke tailored suit, Skelton wondered what sort of day lay ahead of him. Detective Constable Ross Turnbull would be on duty but the rest of the C.I.D team had the day off. Turnbull like Skelton had no children. Skelton thought it only fair, that officers with children should have Christmas day off work, so that they could enjoy this special day with their family. Of course, should a major crime occur, they would have to leave their families and report for duty. Skelton sincerely hoped that his team would enjoy the day without being interrupted by the demands of the job.
Skelton was the head of the Criminal Investigation Department of Avon and Somerset Constabulary based in Manvers Street in the lovely city of Bath. Skelton had attended university in Bath and had fallen in love with this beautiful Roman city and its wonderful Georgian architecture. He had begun his police career in the Metropolitan police in London but had always set his sights on returning to Bath. He had been back in Bath for just less than a year but had already made a name for himself as an outstanding detective. He was lucky to have a small team of detectives who were all very professional. Bath is rightly regarded as a very safe city in which to live. It has a population of ninety thousand, but this is boosted by another sixty thousand students that attend the two universities in the city. Bath University is renowned for its engineering faculty, whilst Bath Spa offers less challenging degrees. Being a world heritage city, it attracts millions of visitors a year and it falls upon Avon and Somerset Constabulary to keep its citizens and visitors safe.
Manvers Street police station is situated right in the heart of the city. It is located close to both the train and bus stations as well as the stunning Bath Abbey, where the first coronation of a king of England took place. The famous Roman Baths are within easy walking distance. Skelton would usually always walk to work. It was a lovely fifteen-minute walk all downhill. Skelton liked the walk as not only did it keep him fit, but allowed him to plan the day ahead, as best he could. Today however, was different. He would take his beloved 3.2 Jaguar Sovereign to the office. He was mostly dependent on Bill Alexander to drive him to crime scenes, but with Alexander at home enjoying Christmas with his family, he would need his own car for transport to any crime occurring today.
It was just after nine when Skelton parked his car in what was an almost deserted carpark. He recognised Ross Turnbull’s car and there were two marked police cars. He got out of the car and made his way to his office. It was a bitterly cold morning, and he was glad that he had pulled on a heavy coat and scarf over his suit. He made his way to his office and removed both the coat and scarf. In his office, he had an electric kettle and a fridge where he kept fat free milk. He put some water in the kettle and went out to the C.I.D room where he found Ross Turnbull busy on his computer. “Merry Christmas Ross” Turnbull jumped out of his chair and held out his hand to greet Skelton. “Good morning, sir, and a very merry Christmas to you. I happen to have a very good bottle of sherry in my desk and perhaps we could have a glass or two at lunch time.” Skelton’s face broke into a wide smile. “Ross, how could I possibly refuse such a splendid invitation? Provided nothing requires our attention, please feel free to join me at 12.30 in my office. I will fry us up a couple of square sausage sandwiches for lunch and I happen to have a couple of tins of Fosters in my fridge. We need to be careful though, as we are both driving so, I think a glass of sherry and a can of Fosters will keep us under the drink driving limit.” Turnbull patted Skelton on his right shoulder and said, “12.30 at your place. Call it a date.” The men exchanged smiles and Skelton headed off towards the custody suite.
He was delighted to find the custody sergeant, Dave Roddis on duty. He was in conversation with young PC Luke Meehan. The men stopped talking as Skelton approached. Skelton was smiling broadly and said, “Well I’m glad to see that the uniformed branch have shown up today. Anyone would think it’s Christmas! The three officers laughed and exchanged handshakes. Dave Roddis was the best custody sergeant that Skelton had ever met. He had the ability to control prisoners better than he had ever encountered before. A heavy-set man with an enormous beer belly, Roddis could always see the funny side of any situation.
Luke Meehan was in his early twenties. He was a bachelor and lived with his parents in Corsham. He had recently completed his probationary period and was now a fully-fledged cop. He was quite a stocky young man and was well liked by his fellow officers. As he was unmarried and had no kids, he had volunteered to work on Christmas day. Skelton rested his arm on the charge counter and asked Roddis, “How many guests have we got today Dave?” Roddis put his right forefinger on his lips and said, “Now let me think.” He frowned for a few seconds and said, “As of now, not a bloody single prisoner. But I have no doubt that young Luke here, will go and spoil that.” They all laughed. Skelton touched Meehan on the shoulder and said, “I take it you are single crewed today, Luke. Christmas is usually a quiet day for us but be aware of drunk drivers. A lot of pubs are open for a few hours at lunchtime. If I were you, I would sit up outside one of the pubs not in the city. There are a few pubs in Lansdown, and you need to drive there. Chances are you will nail a drunk driver coming out of one of them.” Meehan smiled and said, “Funnily enough sir, I was thinking the same thing. I thought I would head up there around three when the pubs are closing and see if anything catches my eye. But, being Christmas day, I can bet that there will be some domestic disputes in the kitchen.” Roddis slapped his hand down on the counter and glowered at Meehan. “If you bring me in a domestic dispute, make sure you arrest the turkey as well. I have my figure to look after, and I am not due my dinner until eight tonight.” They all laughed, and Skelton shook hands with his subordinates and headed back to his office.
Skelton made himself a mug of tea and enjoyed a KitKat. He fired up his computer and checked the crime reports from Christmas Eve. There had been a handful arrests for drunk and disorderly and a couple of assaults. Dave Roddis had released the prisoners when he came on duty, hence the empty cells. At eleven o’clock Skelton began phoning his family and friends to wish them a happy Christmas. The last call he made was to Bill Alexander. “Good morning, Bill, and a very merry Christmas to you. Have you started on the Thatchers Gold yet?” Alexander chuckled down the phone. “Merry Christmas to you as well sir. No, I haven’t had a drink yet but on the stroke of mid-day, I will be pouring my first. Anything happening at the office?” Skelton leaned back in his chair and yawned. “No, its like a graveyard here Bill. Ross Turnbull has a bottle of sherry in his desk, and I have two cans of Fosters in the fridge. So, at twelve-thirty we will be having a glass of sherry and a couple of square sausage sandwiches.” Square sausage sandwiches or Lorne sausages as they are also known, are mostly found in Scotland and the north-east of England. Skelton was brought up on them and absolutely adored them. Since joining Manvers Street, he had converted his colleagues to their delicious taste. Fortunately, Marks and Spencer’s in Bath had started selling them and both Skelton and Alexander were big buyers.
Having reviewed numerous witness statements in up-coming trials, Skelton glanced at his watch. It was twelve-fifteen. He got up from his desk and went to his fridge and removed the loaf of bread and took out four square sausages. He went to the kitchen and got out the frying pan and some vegetable oil. He carefully cooked the sausages and buttered four slices of bread. He placed the sausages on the bread and gently seasoned them with a little salt and white pepper. He then added some brown fruity sauce. When he had finished, he placed two sandwiches on two plates and began walking back to his office. He carefully placed the plates on his desk and went through to the C.I.D room. “Come on Ross, get your arse and that bottle of sherry into my office now. We don’t want the sausages getting cold.” Turnbull got out of his chair and said, “I’m on my way now sir. I’ve been thinking about those sausage sandwiches all morning. I didn’t have any breakfast this morning, so I am more than ready for lunch.”
Skelton led the way and Turnbull closely followed with the bottle of sherry in his right hand. In his left hand, he carried two small glasses. “Come on in Ross and grab a chair. I will get the cold Fosters out of the fridge. I’m sorry I haven’t got any glasses for the Fosters. We will just have to drink straight from the can.” Turnbull placed the two glasses on either side of the desk and dispensed the sherry. “My god these sausage sandwiches smell good. They should see me through the day until I have my dinner this evening.” Skelton placed the two cans of Fosters on the desk. He picked up his glass of sherry and said, “Cheers Ross, let’s just hope that we have an uneventful afternoon and then we can go home and enjoy a lovely Christmas dinner.” They chinked glasses and Turnbull said, “Well I will drink to that. It’s been a quiet morning with just two reports of domestic house breaking, which can wait until tomorrow morning when the rest of the team are back.” The officers sipped the sherry and then began attacking the sausage sandwiches. Skelton opened his can of Fosters and gulped some of the golden juice down his throat. “You know what, Ross? This is just the perfect Christmas lunch I have ever had!” The men exchanged high fives and leaned back in their chairs, totally content.
Luke Meehan looked at his watch, it was two forty-five. He unlocked the car door with the key fob and got into the driver’s seat. It had been a fairly quiet morning, with just a sudden death to take care of. It was an elderly gentleman and there were no suspicious circumstances. He had waited almost an hour for the undertakers to arrive and remove the body. He drove out of Manvers Street police station and headed towards Lansdown. He had decided to drive along the road to Bath racecourse as there were several pubs located in the vicinity. Anyone visiting these pubs would probably need to drive. Meehan was hoping to catch a drink driver. Although he had only been a police officer for two years, he had dealt with numerous fatal collisions involving drunk drivers. His mission today, was to try and prevent another fatal collision. It was bad enough having to tell relatives of a fatality on an ordinary day of the week, but on Christmas day, it would be unthinkable.
Michael Flowers lived in Twerton, one of the less fashionable areas of Bath. He was twenty-six years old and a car mechanic. He was six feet tall with a muscular build but had given up going to the gym nearly two years ago. That had coincided when he first started doing drugs. He had started smoking weed and that had progressed to ecstasy and then cocaine. He lived with his parents in a council flat along with his sister. His father was a builder, and his mother was a teacher’s assistant. His sister worked as a hair stylist in a local hair salon. As well as taking drugs, Flowers had also become a part-time dealer to his friends and acquaintances. So far, he had remained undetected by the police as a dealer. He had however three convictions for assault and on the last occasion, had narrowly avoided a prison sentence. He was known to have a short fuse, particularly if he had been doing drugs.
It was mid-day, and Flowers was lying in his bed. He had been out with friends on Christmas Eve and had got drunk. He had staggered home at two in the morning and was now nursing a hangover. His bedroom door opened and his father Tom, pushed his head in. “Are you awake Michael? It’s twelve o’clock and me and your mother are going to the pub. Do you want to join us?” Flowers raised his head above the pillow and said, “No thanks dad. I am just going to chill out. What time are we having dinner?” “The turkey will be ready at seven and your grand parents will be here at six. So, make sure you are up and showered before they arrive. I will see you when I get back.”
