‘Guess,’ Aaron said.
‘The Wilson Crew? But why, you didn’t tell us anything.’
‘You think they care?’ Matthews said. ‘Just being seen with you lot, picked up and released, that’s all it takes. I get warned and everyone gets the message.’
‘You could press charges,’ Lisa said.
Aaron started to laugh, no humour there, but winced and stopped. ‘And end up a dead man?’ he said.
‘Have you ever thought about witness protection?’ Lisa said.
‘No way,’ he said, ‘then they would kill me.’
‘They’d have to find you first,’ Lisa said, ‘we’re very good at hiding people.’
Shap came back in with the water but held onto it and said, ‘This gun you allegedly sold, before you went inside, who’d you flog it to?’
Aaron stared at him. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’
‘Was it another crew member, eh? The Wilson gang were behind the first robbery at the medical centre. Did some of them go back for more this week, take your gun along?’
‘I don’t know,’ Aaron said with heavy emphasis. ‘And even if I did, I’m not a snitch. But hey, they think I am – so what’s the point, eh?’ He spread his hands, palms up, imploring.
‘Why not give it up?’ Lisa saw tears in his eyes, he blinked them away, his face was mobile, rage flickering across it.
‘I didn’t sell it to any of them, right? It was a lad from the Wilbraham Estate. Carter, he called himself, he used to buy his stash from us.’
Lisa felt adrenalin sting through her veins. They had a lead.
‘First name?’ Shap said.
‘Dunno,’ Matthews said, the outburst over.
‘How old?’ Shap said.
‘Seventeen, eighteen?’ Matthews gave a shrug. ‘Not seen him since.’
‘And that was before you went down?’ Shap said.
‘Yes. Now piss off and leave us alone.’
Shap was gloating as they went down the steps at the side of the maisonettes. ‘You were hoping a bit of tea and sympathy and he’d do a Jerry Springer for you, weren’t you? Tell all and then you could clean your copybook. Scallies like that, you’ve got to go in hard. Keep the pressure on. Now,’ he turned back to face her, triumphant, ‘now, we’ve got a name.’
Chapter 42
The incident boards now excluded both Neil Langan and Norma Halliwell as suspects. New information on Norma and the theft of drugs by Halliwell was noted. And the name Carter had been added. As of yet, that, and a guess at his age, was all they had but the team were busy trying to find out just who had bought the gun from Aaron Matthews.
Shap was scanning Electoral Records online. Lisa was looking at local birth records. She had described Aaron Matthews’ situation to Janine when they arrived back.
‘He’s in a right mess,’ Lisa said, ‘taken a right beating.’
‘It looks worse than it is,’ Shap said.
‘Poor sod,’ Janine said, ‘he couldn’t win, could he. What choices did he have? Join the gang or else. Then when he tries to break away, he loses everything. Gets leathered into the bargain. They don’t trust him, we don’t trust him.’
‘It could have something to do with his taste for violent crime and drug dealing,’ Richard said.
‘There’s this concept called rehabilitation,’ Janine said, ‘heard of it?’
Now Shap called out, ‘No male called Carter, of that age, on the current Electoral roll for the ward.’
‘South Manchester, there’s a Carter, Simon, in the birth records, July 87,’ Lisa said, ‘looks good.’
A few moments later Shap said, ‘Previous year, on the electoral roll, we’ve a Margaret Carter, that could be the mother, and that’s on the Wilbraham Estate.’
‘Nice one,’ Richard said. Janine felt excitement gathering as things fell into place. Please, she hoped, let this be a firm lead. ‘It looks like Matthews could be telling the truth, after all.’
Lisa glanced at her, no doubt very relieved that Aaron Matthews was no longer a suspect.
Butchers came in, picked up on the hubbub and scanned the boards.
‘What’s going on?’ he said.
‘Progress,’ Shap said. ‘While you’ve been sitting on your arse, we’ve been busy – lad called Simon Carter, could be our shooter.’
‘Aaron Matthews sold him the gun,’ Lisa said, ‘ he was living on the Wilbraham estate.’
‘Carter?’ Butchers frowned. ‘Hang on…’ Butchers pulled out his notebook, flipped through it. ‘Here we are,’ he said, ‘Simon Carter.’
‘Patient with a grudge?’ Richard guessed, ‘There’s our motive. Means and motive. I knew it!’
‘No,’ Butchers said, ‘he’s not a complainant, he’s an ex-patient. As in deceased.’ He looked at Janine. ‘You asked me to find all the people who’d left the practice. Well – some of them have died.’
Janine felt the hope deflate, yet another false lead, a flaming cul-de-sac.
‘Simon Carter died two years ago,’ Butchers said.
‘Not long after Matthews had sold him the gun,’ Shap said.
‘And dead men don’t shoot guns,’ Janine said.
‘Well, Carter must have given the gun to someone else, then,’ Richard said.
‘Christ!’ said Janine, ‘it’s like bloody pass-the-parcel.’ Frustration made her chest tight. She addressed the team, ‘Dig up everything on Simon Carter. Was he in one of the gangs? Who else did he know – the gun may have gone to an associate? Can we trace the family, are they still at the Wilbraham Estate house? What did he die of? Was he shot?’ She asked Butchers the last question but Butchers looked blank.
‘No bells ringing?’ Janine said, ‘No light-bulb moment?’
‘He uses low energy, boss,’ Shap said, ‘ten minutes to warm up and you still can’t see anything.’
‘Funny. Not,’ Janine said. ‘Can we get hold of the death certificate?
‘I’ll try the schools for Carter, boss,’ Lisa said.
‘Butchers – try calling the house, Carter’s last known residence,’ Janine said.
They hit the phones.
So near and yet so far, Janine thought. What had Simon Carter done with the gun? If they could just find that out.
‘Sarge,’ Lisa called to Shap, ‘you’re wanted in reception.’
Aaron Matthews was waiting for Shap.
‘What?’ Shap said.
The lad dithered, on the brink, not actually saying anything. Looked down at the carpet.
‘Someone nicked your bike?’ Shap said
‘I want to talk to someone about witness protection,’ Matthews said. ‘There’s stuff I know, going back a bit. But I’d need a new place, like, a new name and everything.’ Shap couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘You sure about that?’ he said.
‘Yeah. I’ve no life here, have I?’ Matthews looked away from him, his jaw working.
‘Right,’ Shap said, ‘come this way.’ That sort of information could eviscerate the Wilson Crew, Shap thought, take them out of circulation for good. Did the lad have any idea of what he was letting himself in for? Cut off from everything he’d ever known, he’d have to leave the city and never return. Shap wasn’t about to enlighten him; scally might change his mind and that would be a great pity.
Richard printed off copies of the birth and death certificates for Simon Carter.
The team gathered round as he read aloud, ‘Cause of death: multiple injuries. Person reporting the death – Roy Gant, father.’
Silence fell in the room. Roy Gant? ‘What?’ Janine said.
Richard read out the birth certificate. ‘Simon Carter: mother Margaret Carter, clerical worker, father Roy Gant, warehouse manager.’
‘Fuck me,’ said Shap.
‘Margaret Carter, known as Peggy Gant,’ Butchers said and began typing. ‘She’s the one who just died.’
‘What’s with the names?’ Janine said.
‘Catholics,’ Butchers said, ‘can’t divorce, one of them must have been married before.’