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3rd March 2014
Chalkie stood in the doorway to the DCI’s office. “Sorry to interrupt, but the Control Room have just been on. There’s been a shooting in the city, Fazackerley Street. Local CID reckon it’s one for us. Looks like a professional hit. They’re asking us to attend.”
Thurstan glanced up from the paperwork he’d been discussing with DS Lizzie Johnson. “Do we know the victim yet?”
“Not confirmed at present,” Chalkie replied, “but a vehicle at the scene is known to be used by Tony MacMahon, and a credit card on the body is in the name of one of his companies.”
Thurstan looked at his DS. “OK. Lizzie, we’ll have to finish this another time. Grab some of the chaps and follow us down to the scene. We’ll take it from there. Oh, and tell Derek where he’s taking me.”
Ten minutes later, Degsy delivered him to the scene. They entered via Rumford Place and were instructed by a Traffic Officer engaged in the road closure to park up and walk to the inner cordon. Uniform had taped off the area. The Sergeant directing wore a high visibility yellow jacket, traditional foot officers’ helmet and carried a signalling stick.
An older officer sporting a thick moustache, he recognized Thurstan as he approached the tape.
“Alright, Sir.” He smiled then nodded at Degsy. “Alright, young mister Drayton. Nice to see you. Just getting some of the troops out to these buildings to round up any witnesses, get lists of occupants and the like.” Turning to a Probationer with a clipboard, he added: “Make sure you get their details on the log, young Bartlett.”
The bobby looked at him quizzically. “But you know them, Sarge.”
“I know I know them, Bartlett,” the ‘Sarge’ said slowly and deliberately, “but I may be dead tomorrow and then where would we be?” He gave the Officer a chastising look.
“DS Nolan’s over by the vehicle, Sir,” the Sergeant said waving his signalling stick in the direction of a black BMW.
Thurstan and Degsy made their way over to a second taped area, the primary crime scene. “Hang on there, Boss!” Sammy Nolan called to them. “I’ll come to you. It’ll save you having to suit up.”
The white-suited detective ambled over and they shook hands. “Long time no see, Boss,” he was grinning broadly. “Good to see you.”
“And you Sammy!” Thurstan placed his left hand over Sammy’s as they gave each other a firm extended handshake. “We really must stop meeting like this.” They both laughed. “This is DS Derek Drayton, I don’t know if you’ve met before.”
“Don’t think we have,” Sammy replied. “I would have remembered someone more handsome than me, I’m sure.” Degsy and Sammy shook hands.
“Right, what have we got?” asked Thurstan, taking in the scene. The body lay on its back now but he assumed it may have been turned over by either the officers first on the scene or the paramedics as they attempted to save life.
“Mark Anthony Stephen MacMahon, forty-eight years old,” Sammy recited, matter of factly. “Subject to formal identification of course, but the car’s one we know he uses, the bank cards in his wallet belong to companies he owns and, anyway, I recognize him. Last locked him up eighteen months ago when I was still on the Matrix. As you might expect, it didn’t go anywhere. Surprising sudden lack of witnesses,” he added sarcastically.
Thurstan wasn’t surprised. Until now MacMahon had been the city’s undisputed crime lord surviving many attempts to bring him to book, usually through witness intimidation.
Sammy detailed all he knew in respect of the current situation. The first officers on the scene thought they’d felt a pulse. The paramedics had turned him over to work on him but provided ‘confirmation of life extinct’ practically immediately. He had a gunshot wound to the front right side of the head and one of the officers had found an empty shell casing roughly fifteen metres away, near the building line which she’d protected with a small cardboard box pending the arrival of the Crime Scene Investigators. The shell casing looked like a 9mm, the weapon most probably a semi-automatic pistol. As nobody heard a gunshot it was probably silenced, all still to be confirmed by forensics. The CSIs were nearly finished, the Coroner’s Office had been informed, the body would be removed shortly and Sammy was ready for a cup of tea and a sandwich. Then as an afterthought, he told them the three workmen, who’d called the job in, were giving their details to the Matrix patrol in the big yellow van over by the Apartment Hotel.
“Thanks, Sammy, I’ll come back to you in a minute if you’d delay that cup of tea for a bit. I just need to speak to my DS over there.” Thurstan indicated back towards the first taped barrier where Lizzie Johnson and five other members of the MIT were gathered. He patted Sammy on the shoulder then he and Degsy walked off towards the barrier.
Constable Bartlett looked up from his clipboard and wondered if he was going to be on Youtube. He’d noticed the man on the balcony of the Apartment Hotel earlier on, and now he was back and looked like he was filming the scene on his phone. The Officer stared up at him and then he was gone, back into the room. “Come on young Bartlett,” his Sergeant chided, “Don’t be daydreaming. You’ve got a job to do.”
Thurstan called the Sergeant over and together they discussed the options with Lizzie and Degsy. The Sergeant provided four Uniforms to team up with four of the DCI’s detectives and Thurstan briefed the officers who then split into teams and began visiting the nearby buildings.
Thurstan looked at the three left. “Taff, you co-ordinate the ‘house to house’ such as it is. Derek, you and Lizzie go speak to the Matrix, over there. Find out what their witnesses can tell us and get some statements taken. I’m just going back for a quick word with Sammy Nolan.”
“Got you, Boss,” they replied almost in unison. Thurstan walked back towards the primary scene.
Lizzie and Degsy split up, collected leather document holders from their vehicles and met up at the Matrix van.
“Alright, Offs. DS Lizzie Johnson from MIT.”
“Alright Sarge,” replied the officer, shaking her hand, then nodded at Derek. “Degsy.” He gave them a brief account of what the witnesses were saying.
“Me colleagues are takin’ statements. One of ‘em’s in the carrier,” he said, thumbing behind him to the yellow van with riot grills and the Matrix logo. “An’ the other’s in this place’s reception.” He pointed to the Apartment Hotel. “The other fella’s behind the carrier havin’ a smoke. I’d be takin’ his statement, but we didn’t have enough statement forms. If you can give me some, I’ll go and take it now.”
“Thanks for that,” Lizzie smiled at him. “It’s ok. I like to keep my hand in. I’ll box him off.”
“I thought you lot were all fully employed with the St.Helens job,” Degsy said to the Matrix constable.
“We are, but we were warned for an all-dayer at the Mags. The Buck eventually decided to throw his hand in, so we finished early an’ thought... city centre patrol. You know how it is, Degs, thought we might get a late arrest and some overtime.” He smiled broadly.
Degsy smiled back. Lizzie was walking the remaining workman towards her vehicle.
“I’ll have to go and see if my colleague needs anything,” he said apologetically, patting the constable on the upper arm: “Nice to see you, Tommo. Give us a ring and we’ll go for a pint.”
“Yeah, yeah. We must do lunch sometime,” Tommo called back.
Later that evening, the staff gathered in the MIT office, sitting around on various desks and chairs, some standing. Thurstan stood before them, recapping the day.
“Right. Well, I think that’s all we can say for now.” The DCI looked around the room. “Where’s Lizzie?”
“Here, Boss.” She held her arm up.
“Ah! Sorry, Lizzie, I didn’t see you come back in. Any news on Tommy Cole?”
Tommy Cole was MacMahon’s second in command, now Liverpool’s new crime lord, although they all doubted it would go undisputed. He’d handed himself into his nearest Police Station having heard about MacMahon’s demise on the local news. Not wanting to be caught unawares, he’d arranged for some ‘housekeeping.’ With the help of his solicitor, he employed a strategy designed to delay the inevitable search of his home and any other properties he owned. He knew if they’d arrested him at home they had the power to search without the nuisance of obtaining a written authorisation or relevant warrant.
“Degsy’s gone down there with Devon and is still in interview at present, Boss. Cole turned up with his ‘brief’ and as far as I’m aware, he’s not been arrested, yet.”
“Thank you, Liz. Right! If no one’s got anything else, those of you with completed H to H enquiry forms see Arthur and get them sorted and anyone with a statement that hasn’t been handed to DI White yet, please do so now. Otherwise, you’re in your own time.” As they started to disperse he raised his voice above the hubbub. “And make sure you’re fully aware of your new shifts.”
“Phone call for you, Boss.” one of the team called out. “It’s the Press Office.”
The conversation was brief. Despite his protestations, they told him the Chief Constable had instructed it required a DCI. Thurstan put the phone down and looked at the officer. “Have to do a Press interview tomorrow.” The Detective noticed the long face. Taking a tube of mints from his pocket, he said: “Polo, Boss?”