Antisocial behaviour, p.7
Antisocial Behaviour, page 7
Macleod was always astonished at Jona’s detail of such macabre events, but it was her job, and she was good at it.
‘So what? They stuck him up against the wall and they simply covered him in petrol and burned him?’
‘No, no,’ said Jona. ‘Look, look around you. See all the glass bottles? There’s blood on some of them. If you look at the body,’ Jona reached up with gloved fingers pointing out at certain marks, ‘I know there’s a lot of burning and there’s lot of contusions, but that body, the skin has been pierced in places. My belief, and I’ll be able to confirm this when I get back into the office with him, but I think he was put up there and they’re throwing bottles at him. Bottles in the ground have got blood on them. It’ll be his blood, is my guess. I reckon whoever it was, they slung some of these bottles at him.’
‘Then what? Doused him?’
‘Yes, I think they’ve doused him, but also that bottle over there, that’s got fuel residue on it. They’re throwing a flaming bottle to set him alight.’
‘But why?’ asked Macleod.
‘That’s why they put a grenade in and they knifed him. This is like making a statement, isn’t it? The others weren’t? Were they?’
‘Think of it,’ said Hope. ‘One has been knifed. There’s been knifings on the estates, joyrider in a car gone up. Maybe the grenade was a statement, but he set fire to the car afterwards like joyriders do. Maybe that was the statement. This was a statement about rioters.’
Macleod bent down and looked up at the body again. ‘Okay, Jona. I want you to just make sure that what you said tonight is correct. Obviously, see if you can pick up any extraneous matter, anything that might lead us to someone. Was this person tall by the way?’
‘I doubt it. I can’t confirm that, but I doubt it,’ said Jona. ‘Height of the arms, this person could be anything from about five feet five up to six feet at the most, but he could be taller. I’ve not lifted the man’s arms up; however, given how far they are apart, and assuming a single person, I’d pitch them in about five feet seven, somewhere in that field.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Macleod. ‘Be careful. Don’t go outside the area.’
‘I think I can spot that,’ said Jona. ‘Look, I need to get this done. I want my team out of here soon. Okay? Let me get on.’
Macleod almost reeled for a moment but then realised the pressure she must have been under. Bringing a team in, a team that were not used to being in the flak. He recalled all those run-ins over the year. They’d even chased down criminals, murderers. At times, he and the team had been out in water, or arriving at deadly situations, Jona’s team were there to pick up the pieces afterwards. Work out what happened. They shouldn’t be working in this environment.
‘Okay, Jona, you’ve got it. Speak later.’ He turned and walked away and took off his coveralls, Hope beside him. As he put his raincoat back on, he saw Clarissa entering with a group of officers through the police cordon.
‘Thanks, boys,’ she said. They had a young person with them, only thirteen or fourteen, Macleod thought.
‘Detective Inspector. This is Ian. He has some information. He says a lot of this, it’s all been kicked off by rumours that there’s gang warfare on the go.’
‘Gang warfare?’ asked Macleod. ‘Who told you that, son?’
Ian looked up at him. The boy didn’t look like he was a rioter, more someone that Macleod would have described as a scruff, bit of a rascal, and cheeky with it. Someone that might have pinched the teacher’s bottom or put a tack on a chair, but he seemed to still have a bright-eyed youthfulness about him. ‘What are you doing out?’
‘I was out with some friends, and I can’t get back now. The rioting is in the middle.’
‘Have you got any folks?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right,’ said Macleod, ‘when I’m done, tell Sergeant Urquhart here their number. She’ll ring them, tell them to stay put, and you stay within this ring.’
The boy actually looked relieved. Macleod thought he’d judged him correctly. ‘So, what’s up?’ he asked. ‘Why is all this kicking off?’
‘Well, all the kids are saying that Peter Olive, he was killed by that guy from over in the Knockmalley gang. Words have been spoken, there’s been words over these last couple of weeks. Then one of our guys threw a grenade into the car.’
‘A grenade? Where did they get the grenade from?’ asked Macleod.
‘Guys can get anything. They can get hold of anything, I’m telling you, all sorts of weapons. He said he’s going to gear everybody up.’
‘He’s going to gear everyone up?’ said Macleod. ‘That’s interesting.’
‘Yes, but we’re at it. We’re at war, you see. I was out, out in the mansion they were all telling me this, and then the riot started. I tried to get back but then you’ve got your guys running down the street. We hopped off and we hid in the churchyard for a bit. Then when we came back out, I can’t go across town so I stayed in the quieter bit. There is less rioting down this end. Then your sergeant here, she came over to me and started talking.’
‘Have you got any friends about?’ said Macleod.
‘Lost them when we ran during the rioting.’
‘So, you’re all at war with Warmsley, are you?’
‘Not me, the bigger guys and that. Said they’re going to go over and do some of them.’
‘Maybe you could tell Sergeant Urquhart here a few names.’
‘Oh yes, grass. Grass, look I’m not telling you about people. They’ll come and get me. Look at Jake. Jake Hughes had to leave; he’s hiding away. You won’t get me like that. I’m not doing stuff like that.’
‘Okay. Have you seen any other weapons? You talk about grenades; have you seen people with knives and things like that?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘By the way, what’s that smell?’
It was the smell of human remains that have been burnt, but Macleod wasn’t about to tell the kid that.
‘That’s just been a fire in the back. Must be some plastic or something burning. I was asking about weapons. Have you seen any of these weapons?’
‘I’ve seen some knives and that.’
‘What do they look like?’ asked Macleod. Ian started drawing something in the air. He said, ‘It closes up like this. Sharp blade on it, but you can put it away in your pocket.’
Macleod recognised the butterfly knife. It was far from a grenade, or the serrated edge blade that had been used on Peter Olive.
‘You haven’t seen anything bigger than that? They haven’t shown you anything?’
‘That’s what they showed me. It’s pretty impressive. That’s why I don’t tell you anything.’
‘Okay. You stay here with Sergeant Urquhart.’ Macleod walked away with Hope. ‘I’m not buying it. I’m not buying gang warfare.’
‘He talked about grenades in there, but he hasn’t seen it,’ said Hope. ‘You could be right, Seoras.’
The pair of them walked around to the corner, standing well clear of the crime scene and the charred body of the youth who’d been attacked. ‘Put him up like that single-handed,’ said Macleod. ‘This is a killer. A whole smoke screen running around the riots and that. We’d better cover our bases.’
‘You think these riots are instigated by someone else? You think they’re whipped up?’
‘We’ll see,’ said Macleod. ‘We’ll see, but that there,’ he said, pointing at the charred body on the wall, ‘Jona says one person, strong. That’s our killer, Hope. That’s our killer.’
Chapter 09
Macleod stretched out, tired, but also worried. The riot through the night, down on the Walmsley Estate had taken its toll on the entire force. Macleod was a police officer, a detective, used to seeing what people could do to each other, horrific scenes of crime. But when he saw an estate alive like that, the rioting going on alongside normal homes and families, it chilled him to the bone.
It had taken a toll on the rest of the team as well. Although they’d all come back to the station, they were all quiet, sullen, not the usual banter between the team. In particular, Macleod was worried about Clarissa. She was clearly struggling after she’d been attacked and despite how well she’d handled it, Macleod could see it had upset her. Ross had seemed to cope with it better. Maybe it was in his nature to expect to be attacked. Maybe he thought because of his sexuality, it would come at different times, and he’d been mentally prepared for it.
One thing Macleod was well aware of was that they could not send any of them single-handed down to these estates again; they’d have to be prepared. He’d bought the entire team breakfast tucking into a large fry and was amazed when Hope simply had a big bowl of yoghurt with fruit. There was a reason she was probably in better shape than he.
Clarissa had picked up some bacon and toast, chewed it with a lack of enthusiasm, while Ross was maintaining his usual front, professional, polite, courteous, thanking the staff who had cooked the food. When he made his way back to his desk, Macleod had a file of photos, all showing Jai Smith and how he had died.
Single person, a single person could do that, thought Macleod. How, what was he? Mercenary, military, some sort of trained martial artist? But the other thing was the planning. Somebody would’ve had to have been driving around with this stuff, surely, or had the riot lasted long enough for them to look to make the opportunity. Whoever they were, they were clearly resourceful, able to pick a moment, spot where they could do things without anyone watching.
In the shadows, or were they in plain sight and we just couldn’t see them? thought Macleod. Were they rioting along with everyone else and then simply popped off to do their deed? His mind swam and no wonder, he’d been up for too long.
He heard the phone ring and he ignored it at first, letting the call bounce to the outside office. He heard Ross say, ‘I think he’s just taking a breather. I’ll put you through,’ and Macleod knew who it was. He picked up the call when it rang again.
‘Sorry, love,’ he said, ‘been a heck of a night.’
‘I saw on the news. Are you okay?’ asked Jane.
‘I’m fine,’ said Macleod. ‘I’m fine. Rough night, all in. That’s not even counting what we saw at the crime scene, but I’m okay.’
‘What about the rest of the team?’
‘Well, to be honest with you, Jane, I’m worried about Clarissa. She’s finding this tough. The other two—they seem to be handling it.’
‘You told me she was attacked the other day; it’s no wonder she’s maybe feeling vulnerable, maybe vulnerable for the first time in her life. She’s quite a force.’
‘She is that, but she’s no Kirsten Stewart though. She wasn’t brought up in a gym learning to fight.’
‘No, she wasn’t, Seoras; remember that. Just keep an eye on her. I’ll keep an eye on you.’
‘Always. I expect no less,’ he said, slightly cheered at hearing Jane’s voice. Macleod put the phone down and looked out the window.
Rain, we need rain, he thought. So far, the evenings have been warm and dry; nothing better to stop a riot than some rubbish weather. Where was it when you wanted it?
He thought back to the weather they used to get on Lewis, where he came from. The wind whipping in, the rain almost horizontal, days when you’d step outside the door and have to brace yourself to move forward or simply to stay still. They never got riots there. He’d come a long way from there, a long way.
His phone rang again and Macleod reckoned that Jane couldn’t have rung back that quick so he let it ring out and then received a knock on the door from Ross.
‘Sorry to bother you, sir, but that’s the DCI. Apparently, Mr Mackenzie’s coming back. DCI wants you up there, speak to them. Mr Mackenzie’s in a foul mood, not happy with what’s going on.’
‘Well, Mr Mackenzie can take a running jump,’ said Macleod.
‘I’ll not pass that on,’ said Ross. ‘I’m not sure it’s what the DCI’s looking for.’
‘Well, the DCI wouldn’t be able to . . .’ Macleod cut his comment short, spotting the DCI coming into the outer office.
‘Seoras, get yourself together upstairs. We need to talk to these people.’
‘With respect, I am running a murder investigation. We’ve just got in after a night out.’
‘Well, I was up early as well,’ said the DCI. ‘Now come on. I’ll expect you there in two minutes.’ Macleod watched the man turn on his heel, leaving in such a dismissive fashion that Macleod’s potential reaction had Ross almost running for his desk.
‘It’s all right, Alan. I’m not angry at you.’ And then he noticed that Clarissa hadn’t even offered a smug comment. Macleod walked over, saw her huddled in the chair and she began to weep.
‘Easy,’ said Macleod, ‘easy.’
She sniffed. ‘It’s all right, Seoras. I’m just tired. I’m just . . . it was awful last night. Awful. Who does that to someone? Throwing fuel over them and then setting them on fire, looking to prolong their agony. It’s not right.’
‘Well, of course it’s not right,’ said Macleod. It was all he had to offer. ‘Are you okay? Do you want to take the morning off, come back in later?’
Clarissa shook her head, ‘And what? Have the Rottweiler go home because she’s too injured?’
‘I don’t call you that. You know that, don’t you?’
‘No, but they do. And they do it because it’s right; I am. Somebody’s going to feel my bite with this one.’
Macleod heard Clarissa sniff hard, and as he turned away, he spied Hope in the far corner of the office, put his hand out and flicked his finger slightly to indicate she should join him outside. Once they were in the hall, Macleod turned, looking up at his tall sergeant.
‘Do you think you can have a talk with her?’
‘A what? Clarissa?’
‘But she’s struggling. I just thought you might get closer to her, you know? Being a woman and that.’
‘I respect a lot of what you do, Seoras, do you know that? But see, when it comes to this whole woman-man thing, you’re the most ham-fisted at times going. She’s got what she needed; you dropping by. You’ve got a more subtle touch with her than I ever would have, but don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye. But how are you?’
‘I’m all right. I didn’t tear one apart on Ross when the DCI came in. I wouldn’t have the team speak to me much when I come back from this meeting. You might find I’m not in the best frame of mind.’
He saw Hope grin briefly and then go to a sour face, realising Macleod found nothing funny about the moment. Macleod climbed the stairs up to the office of the DCI and found Simon Mackenzie and a contingent of other men and women who were introduced to him as being from the council. Macleod sat on a stool at the edge of the DCI’s table while on the other end of the table sat the Assistant Chief Constable who Macleod had seen the previous night. Jim gave Macleod a nod but was very stony-faced.
‘I thought it best to bring everybody in together,’ said the DCI, ‘so that these people from the council can get some answers from those out on the field.’
In other words, thought Macleod, you can’t even run a smoke screen. All you had to do was field all the questions while the rest of us got to work. The rest of us managed to actually deal with this situation. Instead, you brought two people in who have been up all night and get them to talk to these people who have no idea what they’re on about when it comes to looking after an estate. But instead of saying all that, Macleod smiled.
‘I think I speak for all of us on the council,’ said Simon Mackenzie, ‘when I say that we’re not impressed with how you are dealing with this.’
Jim, the Assistant Chief Constable smiled, looked over at Macleod and then back towards Simon Mackenzie. ‘Can I just ask what you would be advising we do?’
‘You need more people. You need to go in with a tough hand. You need to suppress these kids.’
‘You’d like us to run in with, what? A water canon? Big sticks? Beat them into a pulp? We’re not actually sure what we’re dealing with here at the moment.’
‘It’s clear you’re dealing with a riot, a loss of control, a loss of behaviour,’ said Mr Mackenzie, ‘and I’m moving that we should have a task force going in to sort these people out. We need someone up at the top of that. Someone to head it up who understands police work.’
‘Are you saying that I don’t?’ asked the Assistant Chief Constable.
‘Someone maybe closer. Maybe someone closer to the street, that’s what we need. Someone who understands what it is to feel that heat and that anger. Someone who people respect, see as a figurehead. Someone like Detective Inspector Macleod.’
Macleod, up until this point, had kept his eyes firmly on the floor, but raised them now, to see a gulping smile from the DCI beside him.
‘Splendid. Absolutely, Seoras would make a great leader of a task force.’
‘Detective Inspector Macleod is currently occupied,’ said Macleod. ‘I have a murder investigation on the go. The Assistant Chief Constable is absolutely correct; we don’t know what’s going on here. We haven’t got to the root cause of it. The assumption coming from you is that it’s simply antisocial behaviour that’s been spiralling out of control and gone on too long. Having been out there, I’m not too sure that that’s correct. However, the expert that I would seek is the Assistant Chief Constable, who, Mr Mackenzie, was out there last night in amongst all the heat and the action, and he wasn’t sitting behind a police cordon like me. He was with them moving about and trying to suppress what was going on, so please, don’t come in here with your high-handedness.’
