Janine took the phone from Lisa. ‘Good morning, DCI Lewis speaking.’
‘Morning. We’ve a result on the bullets in the Donald Halliwell case. The same weapon was used in a non-fatal shooting here two years ago. The perpetrator was one Aaron Matthews. Matthews was convicted but the gun was never found.’
Janine felt the fizz of adrenalin in her veins. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘excellent news.’ She ended the call aware of the expectant faces around her. ‘We’ve a match,’ she said. ‘Aaron Matthews.’ Janine waved at Shap to get on the computer and look up the details. There was a buzz of anticipation in the room, a quickening of the energy. It was just what they needed after being jerked about by Fraser McKee. A solid lead.
Shap logged on to the database, murmuring, ‘Press red on your remote now.’ He clicked on the criminal record of Aaron Matthews. A photograph appeared of a young black man, along with his charge sheet and related intelligence. ‘Known associate of the Wilson Crew,’ Shap read out loud, ‘twenty months inside for assault with a firearm. Released last month. The timing’s sweet.’
‘Butchers, establish where he’s living, now,’ Janine said, ‘Lisa – warrants, Richard – run the name past DCS Roper, make sure Matthews is not one of their inner circle, don’t want to tread on their toes.’
‘He could still be carrying,’ Shap said.
‘We’ll pull in an armed response unit,’ Janine said. ‘All other lines of inquiry parked while we follow up on Matthews.’ She relished the feeling of excitement, the prospect that real progress was in sight, and with it the chance of catching the murderer and answering the question that plagued her most. Why?
The area around Aaron Matthews’ maisonette flat had been secured, traffic turned away, residents and passers by prevented from entering. Janine noticed a bystander at the far end of the street busy with a camera phone. The armed response team with their specialist training would approach the flat and hopefully detain the suspect. Janine, Richard, Shap and Lisa waited on the pavement below, out of harm’s way. The block was two storeys high and Matthews’ flat was on the top storey, a blue painted door in the middle of the row.
Janine watched. Her stomach clenched in anticipation, as the leader of the armed unit signalled to his crew to move in. They climbed the stairs at the side of the building swiftly and funnelled along the walkway. The armed officers stopped and took up formation either side of the door. The leader signalled to his unit again then hammered hard on the door, speaking loudly enough for those in the street below to hear. ‘This is Greater Manchester Police. Open the door. Open the door. Police.’
There was a moment’s pause, Janine’s mouth felt dry, then the blue door opened. Aaron Matthews was visible. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘Arms on your head,’ the leader said.
Matthews complied.
The officer used a metal detector wand and swept it down in front of Matthews, searching for a gun.
‘Turn around,’ the officer said. Matthews shuffled round and the officer moved the wand over his back and down to his feet. ‘Clear,’ he announced.
‘Step onto the landing.’
Matthews stepped outside.
‘Hands behind your back.’
Matthews was escorted down the steps to Janine. She nodded to Lisa to cuff the suspect and make the formal caution on arrest.
Lisa snapped the cuffs on Matthews and began, ‘Aaron Matthews, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence-’
Sudden movement and Matthews bolted. Lisa went after him, shouting to him to stop, Shap just behind her. The uniformed officers who were securing the scene gave chase too.
Aaron dodged through the alley that led to the precinct. Lisa forced herself to run faster, her heart thumping, her legs burning with the effort. Matthews jumped over bollards leading to a parking area and Lisa followed, gaining on him. As he turned again, he skidded and slipped, giving her a chance to close the distance between them. She willed herself on, ignoring the cramp biting in her calf and the sharp pain in her windpipe. Closer still, she lunged and grabbed his shoulder, spun him round. Forced him to stop.
Panting, and ignoring all the people gawking on the sidelines, Lisa walked Matthews back to the cars. Janine nodded and Lisa felt a ripple of relief. Thank God she had caught him. She should have considered that he’d be a flight risk. She should have got him into the car sooner.
Now, trying to hide the way she was shaking, she put him in the back of the car and got into the passenger seat. One of the uniformed officers was driving them back.
‘Got something to hide?’ Lisa said.
‘I freaked right, you talking about murder. What murder?’ Matthews was agitated, eyes livid.
‘Come on, Aaron,’ Lisa said, ‘Dr Donald Halliwell.’
‘No way!’ he protested.
‘We’ve got some very good evidence says otherwise,’ Lisa said.
‘You can’t have, I had nothing to do with it. Nothing. I’m not a part of all that anymore.’
‘Really? Same gun,’ Lisa said.
‘I sold that,’ Matthews said, ‘I walked away – from all of it.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Lisa said.
‘You think it’s easy? There’s places I can’t go, people – I have to steer well clear. And now you lot come and fuck it all up. If they hear about this, they’ll think I’m a snitch, you might as well put a target on my back.’ He turned his face away and looked out of the side window. Lisa’s heart was still loud in her ears, head spinning from the rush. She sat back and relaxed her shoulders, looking forward to seeing what happened once the boss got Aaron Matthews in an interview room.
Chapter 20
Butchers had finalised the timeline for Dr Halliwell’s day on Tuesday, his appointments at morning and evening surgery and the home visits in-between and had now turned his attention to collating information on patients who had made complaints.
There was a knock at the door and Vicky Stonnall popped her head in. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yeah, thanks. Doctor Halliwell and Doctor Gupta were both quite settled here?’
‘It’s a cushy number,’ Vicky said. ‘He was nudging a hundred thousand, and Doctor Gupta’s husband’s a consultant so they’re steaming rich.’
‘Big money,’ Butchers said.
‘It’s the business to be in, that or city trading. And they don’t even have to do out-of-hours, anymore. Not like your lot,’ Vicky said.
‘I make a decent enough living,’ Butchers said. There was only him to spend the money.
‘Yeah, but it’s all broken marriages and living for the job, isn’t it, your line? I wouldn’t fancy it,’ Vicky said.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Butchers said, deciding not to dwell on his own trail of dead relationships.
‘You fraternising with me?’ Vicky said, her mouth in a little smirk.
‘Fraternising?’ Butchers said. ‘You’re not the enemy are you?’
‘Not last time I looked. Coffee, then.’ She disappeared.
Butchers leant forward and pressed the tannoy button. ‘Three sugars please.’ The sound echoed from the waiting room, making him smile.
After a few minutes he got up and went through to reception. Vicky was coming downstairs from the staff lounge and kitchen, with a tray of coffee. She handed Butchers his and offered him a plate of biscuits. Butchers chose two. ‘Ta.’
Vicky took her own coffee round the counter and sat in her chair.
Butchers leant against the counter. She was alright Vicky, he reckoned, down to earth, approachable.
‘If someone was a bit dizzy, like,’ Butchers said, ‘what would that be?’ He’d been surrounded by posters exhorting people to adopt a healthy lifestyle, lose weight, take exercise. It was getting to him.