The bespoke hitman, p.17
The Bespoke Hitman, page 17
Harry followed McCauseland out into the street, where Tommy Norton stood looking lost, like a shipwrecked sailor.
‘This is Mr Norton, sir, the neighbour who made the phone call,’ McCauseland said by way of introduction. ‘He lives at the end of the street. Mr Norton, this is Detective Inspector Harry Thompson.’
Harry put out his hand. ‘Thank you for contacting us, Mister Norton.’
The old man’s eyes were red, blotchy and wet. He shook Harry’s hand.
‘Tommy, Inspector. Just call me Tommy. Everyone does. I hope you get the animals who did this.’
‘Animals wouldn’t do this, Tommy. Only humans are capable of such evil. Can you tell me what you were doing at the Maddens’ house?’
‘Charlie and me are good friends. He and Rosie – his wife – just got back from a wee break. I was looking after the house for them, keeping an eye on things. Anyway, they arrived back earlier this evening –’
‘What time would that have been?’
‘Oh, about eight, or thereabouts. I rapped their door to tell Charlie about this dodgy character knocking about the street. He seemed very interested in Charlie’s house.’
‘How so?’
‘Showing no interest, but interested, if you get my meaning?’
‘Would you recognise this person if you saw him again?’
‘I didn’t get a real good look at him, but he was quite tall, a big fella. As I told Charlie, he looked the type you didn’t want to mess with.’
‘You were about to tell me what you were doing at the house.’
‘Charlie said he’d call up to my house in an hour’s time, and we’d go for a wee swallow, beer or something, nothing heavy. Well, an hour later and no sign of Charlie, which is unusual for him; he usually sticks to what he says. To cut a long story short, Inspector, I came to get Charlie. I was gasping for a beer. When I got here the front door was wide open. I shouted in a couple of times, but no answer. After a couple of minutes, I invited myself in …’
Tears began welling up in Tommy’s eyes.
‘Are you okay to proceed, Tommy?’
Tommy nodded.
‘I … in the living room … horrible … horrible. I just staggered out of the house, backwards. Nightmare …’
‘Do you remember touching or disturbing anything?’
‘No … I touched nothing. I did hesitate for a second, just … just to see if they were alive … even though I knew they couldn’t be … the state they were in.’
‘Did they have any enemies, anyone you think may have wanted to harm either of them?’
Tommy shook his head, the tears now flowing down his face.
‘No enemies. They … they were both well-liked. Great neighbours …’
‘Okay, Tommy. Why don’t you head home and get some sleep? We can get a full statement from you tomorrow when –’
Harry’s mobile rang. Harry looked at the screen. Boyd. Harry answered it.
‘This better be good, Boyd. You’re on thin ice, with bricks in your pockets.’
Rushed breathing at the other end. No words.
‘Boyd? You finding this funny? We’ll see how funny it is when you’re in front of my desk, first thing in the –’
‘Hel … help … bleeding … badly … shot …’
‘Are you trying to wind me up?’
‘Snooker … hall …’
‘Snooker hall? What snooker hall? Where the hell are you?’
No response, just night sounds embedded in heavy emptiness echoing from the phone.
Tommy pointed. ‘There’s an old deserted snooker hall over yonder, Inspector, top of the hill. It’s behind where the trees start to form. Be careful. The hill’s mucky and dangerous.’
‘Come on!’ With McCauseland in tandem, Harry ran in the direction of the hill. Upon reaching it, he realised how true Tommy’s words were. Twice he reached the middle, before slipping and skidding back down on his arse.
When they finally reached the top, the dilapidated snooker hall emerged just beyond a family of trees.
‘There’s his car!’ Harry shouted, knackered, staggering forward, slip-sliding on muck and rocks, almost stumbling over Boyd, the bloody mobile still gripped in his hand. ‘Call an ambulance!’
Harry dropped to his knees, struggling to remove his overcoat. He placed it quickly over Boyd. ‘Bob? Bob, can you hear me? It’s Harry. Who did this?’
‘I … I … I’m … sorry … fucked up big …’
‘Never mind that, who the hell did this?’
‘No …’
‘No? Nolan? You mean Nolan? Was it Nolan?’
No response.
‘Bob? Can you hear me?’ Harry leaned closer, ear to Boyd’s mouth. ‘Bob? Was it Nolan?’
‘Ambulance on its way, Harry,’ McCauseland said. ‘Tell Bob to hang in there.’
Harry looked up at McCauseland, then rose to his feet. ‘You can tell them it’s no longer an emergency.’
‘Ah, shit.’ McCauseland looked devastated. ‘Was he able to say anything, who did this to him or to the Maddens?’
‘It was barely a whisper. I wouldn’t place my hand on the Bible, but … I … think he said Nolan.’
‘We should’ve done Nolan when we had him in custody. Or some other way.’
‘Some other way, it’ll have to be.’
‘No kid gloves?’
‘Knuckledusters with spikes.’ Harry looked towards a small gathering of trees, off to his left. A couple of night birds moved stealthily from branch to branch, making the leaves tremble. ‘Wouldn’t you just love to know what they know …?’
‘You okay?’
A full moon came out from behind the darkness, washing over the bloody scene. Harry looked tired. Old. Feeling both.
‘Okay? After two years, I just addressed a man in my squad by his first name for the first time, all because I disliked him. You tell me if I’m okay?’
‘Boyd knew he was lucky to be under your command, especially after all the fuck-ups with his gambling. Told me that numerous times.’
‘I treated him like shit, Bill. Let’s not be gentle with words. I’m ashamed of myself now; now, when it’s too late.’ Harry looked into Boyd’s car. ‘More money conveniently left for us to find.’
‘You think Bob knew something, all this time?’
‘I don’t want to think what I’m thinking.’
In the near distance, sirens could be heard.
‘They were quick,’ McCauseland said.
‘Don’t you know? Cops always get preferential treatment – when they’re dead.’
* * *
Before heading back to the station, Harry did a quick detour, returning home, slipping in through the back door as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid Elaine. He got as far as the stairs in the hall before being spotted.
She looked pleasantly surprised to see him, until she eyed the state of his clothes, ripped and covered in muck.
‘My God, Harry, what’s happened?’
‘I was hoping to get cleaned up before talking to you, love. There’s no easy way to say this. Bob Boyd’s dead, murdered.’
‘Murdered …?’
‘All a bit blurred at the moment, but a husband and wife called Madden were murdered, also. Boyd was found not far from the scene.’
She went to him, hugging him tightly.
‘Careful. Your clothes are going to be covered in muck, love,’ Harry said, gripping her tighter.
‘I don’t care. Muck can be washed away.’
Washed away. If only I could wash this night away, banish it from my memory, forever.
‘Go up and have a lovely hot shower. I’ll get a fresh set of clothes out for you. You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.’
After showering, he did feel slightly better. Down in the living room, a hot cup of tea and Elaine waited.
‘Better?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Have I ever told you how much I love you? Without you, I’m nothing.’
‘Stop trying to sound romantic, when you’re anything but.’
‘I’ve put you through hell at times, with worry.’
‘I knew what I was letting myself in for, the very first time I set eyes on you in bed!’
‘And what a sight I was, blown to pieces! Terrible to say, if I hadn’t been blown up, I’d never have met you. You really were my Florence Nightingale in the hospital, helping me get through the pain of all those skin grafts. You saved my life.’
‘I know you don’t like to be reminded of it, but I wasn’t the one who administered first aid to you. That’s what saved your life.’
‘No, I don’t like to be reminded of it, but it’s something I have to live with.’ He sounded bitter. ‘The bloody irony of it, being helped by the man who was the intended target of the bomb. The angel and the devil, that’s what I called the two of you.’
‘Was I the devil?’ She laughed, and it made him feel whole again.
He kissed her, gently, as if meeting for the first time.
‘I wish my retirement day was now, instead of next month.’
‘You’re saying that now. Tomorrow, you’ll be your old self. Right as rain.’
‘It’ll be a long time before I’m all right. I saw things tonight no one should ever see.’
* * *
In the station a few hours later, Harry bought a cup of his favourite hot brew from the coffee machine on the first floor, then entered his office. The moment he parked his arse at the desk, the door was flung open. Gordon Purvis stormed up to the desk, semi-running, finger wagging.
‘Fuck you, Thompson! Wasn’t it explained to you, that I was in charge of all to do with the robbery?’
‘Not now, Purvis. Save your wounded-pride bullshit for some other time.’
‘You and your circus shouldn’t have been anywhere near the Madden house. Madden was a suspect in the robbery, and now he’s dead, along with his wife.’
‘So is Bob Boyd, in case that particular part of the news never reached you.’
‘Yes, Boyd, who held on to vital information about Madden, before sharing it. Oh, I see from the look on your gob, that wee piece of the news never reached you.’
‘What the hell are you on about?’
‘Not much of a detective, are you? A bottle of perfume and a promised night on the town got Boyd the information from a dispatcher, prior to it being officially shared.’
‘Which dispatcher?’
‘See, that’s what I mean about you not being a very good detective. You ask all the wrong questions. A more important question is, what the hell was Boyd doing withholding information, and hanging about at the Madden house?’
‘I don’t speak for the dead, but he probably thought he could arrest Madden on his own, get some credit for himself.’
‘Now who’s bullshitting?’ Purvis smirked. ‘You don’t believe that any more than I do. Think that money in his car just flew into it?’
‘For someone not there, you seem to know a lot about what happened.’
‘It’s my business to know these things. That’s why I’m on the top rung, looking down on your miserable, pathetic attempts at police work. One of your own men, right under your nose, taking bribes and shit knows what the hell else?’
‘Time for you to leave.’
‘You’ve become a laughing stock. Lucky for you, you’ll be leaving us soon. Perhaps some supermarket will hire you as a security guard. If you want a reference, come to me and kiss my arse.’
Purvis swept out of the office, leaving a seething Harry to his thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘Keep in mind that I’m crazy, won’t you?’
Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Nolan sat contemplating, in a large yellow armchair shaped like Homer Simpson. He didn’t feel entirely comfortable sitting in the cartoonish chair, but it was the only thing in the room able to contain his bulk. A small black book rested in his right hand.
It was four hours after his bloody visit to the Maddens and the slaying of Boyd. Now, having practically searched every inch of the apartment, he was boiling with anger. He had found no money worth talking about – unless he included the large collection of Star Wars and Star Trek money boxes, filled with plastic space currency. And there was no sign of the owner, Brian Ross. He really wanted to find Ross, almost as much as he wanted to find the rest of the money.
One thing he did find, however, was a small black book. It detailed all the items Ross had purchased over the last few years from a comic book shop in town called Heroes and Villains. A business card sandwiched between the pages named the owner as Kieran Kelly. One entry in the book stated: George Reeves’ SMC = 20G. Bought.
‘Twenty G. Hmm. Twenty thousand quid? Or just some strange coded language?’
Nolan was confused, and not a little unsettled by what he had witnessed while searching the apartment. It was like somewhere a child would live: superhero statues, sci-fi posters and thousands of comic books residing in boxes bordering on claustrophobic wall-to-wall madness. Was this fucker Ross a paedo? Had to be, living in a house full of kiddie toys and comics.
‘God the night, what kind of fucked-up world are we living in?’
If Ross was a paedo, then he would take even more pleasure in torturing him when he eventually got his hands on him; and get his hands on him he would. It was only a matter of time. And timing.
Madden had given up his friend’s address as well as the hospital he had been taken to after jumping out of a window in Heroes and Villains. But a contact at the hospital informed Nolan that Ross had checked out hastily. Apparently a shouting match with a visitor had unnerved Ross, and he left shortly after the visit.
Nolan had emailed a photo of Madden to the contact, and it was confirmed that, yes, that was the visitor. The contact also told Nolan that Ross had been accompanied in the ambulance by one Kieran Kelly, the shop owner.
The killing of McCabe had spooked the remainder of the gang, according to Madden. This was bad news for Nolan. He had been hoping that the killing had been brought on by in-fighting, making locating the rest of the money easier.
But no, not according to Madden. The gang had divvied up the spoils equally, but then someone had kidnapped McCabe, tortured and killed him, and taken his share. But who was the killer? Newspapers had speculated that it was Scarface Logan and his gang, but Nolan dismissed that immediately. Logan was squeamish about violence and the sight of blood.
Nolan’s thoughts came back to the gunman in Madden’s house. Could he be part of the mysterious gang responsible for McCabe’s death, or was he a new player in the game entirely?
The thought of someone else getting to Ross before him was almost too much to contemplate. He had special plans for Mister-Tough-Guy Ross.
His hand went instinctively to his head, to the healing wound. It began throbbing. I’m not gonna count to three. I’m not even gonna count to one. You will shut the fuck up or I’ll sing you a lullaby!
‘When I find you, tough guy, you’ll not be singing a lullaby, but you will be going for a little swim in my private swimming pool.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
You ever get the feeling all hell’s about to break loose and there’s nothing you can do about it?
Ali Vali, The Devil Unleashed
‘Beautiful view from up here.’ Conor O’Neill was sitting alongside Rasharkin on a bench in Belfast Castle’s famous Cat Garden, looking over the night lights of the city. ‘I always find this wee spot very calming, with the nine Guardian Cats watching over us. The legend say the Castle will always be safe as long as a cat is residing here. Do you like cats, yourself?’
‘I’ve never owned pets,’ Rasharkin said, diplomatically.
‘Ah, that’s a misconception. Cats are not pets, and they certainly aren’t owned. They’re individuals. My cats, Tiddles and Chairman Meow? They’ll come home at mealtimes and naptime. In return for those comforts, they deal with any rodent foolish enough to venture into our street.’
A few seconds of silence was broken by Rasharkin’s change of topic.
‘I’m sorry how last night turned out. Madden’s share of the money gone; sorry for Rosie Madden, also, what they did to her.’
‘Completely out of your hands. Unfortunately, we lost Boyd as well. To say he was invaluable would be an understatement. Almost as big a loss as the money.’
‘You trusted him?’
‘Why would I trust anyone willing to sell his comrades? No, trust would not be the word I’d use. But I was more than grateful we had him working for us. In this business, betrayal is always practised and bought, by both sides. An informer is worth his weight in gold.’ From his pocket, Conor produced his pipe. ‘Mind if I smoke?’
‘Feel free.’
Conor packed the pipe. Flamed it while sucking gently.
‘Any explanation as to why Boyd was in the vicinity at the same time as I was?’ Rasharkin said.
‘That, my friend, is a mystery – as is the identity of his killer or killers. But it’s something we’re pursuing as a matter of urgency.’
‘I have my own theory. Want to hear it?’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘You may not like it.’
‘My chin is made of granite.’
‘I think Boyd tried to set me up for the Maddens.’
Conor took a suck on the pipe; blew cobalt smoke into the air. The aroma spread everywhere. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘The money. As I already told you, someone was in the house while I was there.’
‘You think it was Boyd?’
‘Interested parties almost tripping over each other? It’s a strong possibility. Plus, his body was found close by.’
‘He didn’t even know you existed.’
‘We’ll never know for sure if he did or not. I’m not a believer in coincidence. Perhaps it’s just my suspicious nature, but something isn’t sitting well on my shoulders.’
‘If he was setting you up, why didn’t he kill you when he had the chance in the house?’
