Head of the Firm Read online

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Not wanting to spoil the first evening she and Michael had spent with the boys since Paul’s death, Grace had put thoughts about Connor’s revelation to the back of her mind, promising herself she’d follow it up as soon as she could. It was the following lunchtime before she decided what she was going to do about it. She picked up her mobile phone and dialled Sean’s number. ‘Sean, it’s me. I have another possible lead. Fancy a little trip with me later?’

  ‘Of course. Want to pick me up from the restaurant? Sophia is starting to asking questions about where I’m disappearing to all the time.’

  ‘I can ask John to come with me. I don’t want to cause you any drama at home.’

  ‘You’re not. Sophia worries about me. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘But I can—’

  ‘No,’ Sean interrupted her. ‘Paul was my nephew, Grace. Michael is my brother. I’m doing this with you.’

  ‘Okay,’ Grace said, relieved that he hadn’t taken her up on her offer. The truth was, with the exception of Michael, Sean was the only person she wanted at her side. ‘I’ll pick you up just before eight?’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Eric’s gym.’

  ‘Oh?’

  It was growing dark when Grace and Sean pulled up outside Eric’s gym. Walking inside, they saw Eric in the ring, training with a young lad.

  ‘Can we have a word, Eric?’ Sean asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Eric said as he took off his pads and climbed through the ropes.

  ‘I think it might be a good idea if you told everyone to call it a day,’ Sean suggested.

  Grace saw the fear in Eric’s face as his skin turned a peculiar shade of grey. He swallowed and then started ushering the few people who were using the gym out of the door. There were some grumbles, but mostly people looked at Sean and realised they were better off out of the way.

  When everyone was gone, Eric pulled out a couple of foldable chairs and unfolded them before beckoning Sean and Grace to sit down. They did so and Eric followed suit.

  ‘So, what’s this about?’ Eric asked, with a slight tremor in his voice.

  ‘We want to speak to you about the day Paul was killed,’ Grace said.

  ‘Okay,’ he replied as he looked back and forth between Grace and the imposing figure of Sean. Even sitting in a chair he looked like a giant.

  ‘Were you expecting Paul at the gym the day he was shot?’

  ‘No,’ Eric said confidently, with a shake of his head. ‘Connor was supposed to be coming here to give me some money. But Paul came instead. He said Connor had something more interesting to do. I assumed it was a bird. Sorry, woman,’ he said with a cough as he looked at Grace.

  ‘What was the money for?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I was renting them the rooms upstairs to use as their new base. They were paying six months upfront.’

  ‘So, until Paul arrived, you were expecting Connor to be here?

  ‘Yeah. That’s right.’ Eric licked his lips.

  ‘Who else knew that Connor was supposed to be coming here?’ Grace asked.

  ‘No one that I know of,’ Eric replied.

  ‘You didn’t tell anyone?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head again.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Grace asked.

  ‘One hundred per cent, Grace. I never talk about the lads and their business to anyone. They look after me and I keep my gob shut. That’s how it’s always worked between us.’

  Grace didn’t know Eric particularly well, but she knew that he was one of the few people the twins trusted. They’d trained in his gym since they were thirteen years old. Michael had a lot of time for Eric too, and Grace didn’t want to believe that he would betray them. He didn’t look like he had it in him, if she was honest, and she considered herself a good judge of character – although Paul’s murder had changed everything and she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted her judgement as much as she once had.

  ‘Why were you renting the rooms out?’ Sean asked. ‘As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never done that.’

  ‘The boys wanted somewhere to make a temporary base. They're here a few days a week anyway, and, like I said, they look after me. I thought it would be nice to have them around more often. Those Johnson brothers are back out and they used to give me a load of aggro back in the day. I thought it would be a win-win for me and the lads. I didn’t charge them much, you know?’

  ‘You been having any money problems lately Eric?’ Sean asked.

  ‘No.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘Never have. I won’t lie and say the money didn’t come in handy, Sean, it was my Lisa’s twenty-first last week, but I didn’t need it, no.’

  Grace and Sean watched Eric closely. Sean reached inside his jacket and Eric flinched.

  ‘Just checking my phone, Eric,’ Sean said. ‘What are you so edgy for?’

  Eric looked at him and raised his eyebrows. ‘Because you told me to clear everyone out, Sean, and in case you hadn’t noticed, you two make a pretty fucking terrifying pair. I’m surprised my heart hasn’t packed in by now,’ he said as he took a towel from a nearby bench and mopped his brow.

  Grace smiled. ‘Are you sure no one knew that Connor or Paul were supposed to be coming here, Eric?’ she asked again.

  ‘I certainly didn’t tell anyone, Grace. But that doesn’t mean the lads didn't. And like I said, they’re here a few times a week so anyone who wanted to find them could come looking here.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Grace said with a frown.

  ‘Actually, Carl knew Connor was coming,’ Eric said as he rubbed his chin. ‘I remember because he told me about it. He’d been looking forward to a sparring session with him. You know how he loves a good scrap.’

  ‘Carl Young?’ Grace asked.

  Eric nodded.

  ‘Who’s he?’ Sean asked.

  ‘He works for us,’ Grace replied. ‘The twins recommended him to your dad.’

  ‘So he thought Connor was supposed to be here?’ Sean asked.

  ‘Yes. He ended up sparring with Paul instead, who, as you can imagine, wiped the floor with him,’ Eric said with an unmistakable look of pride on his face.

  ‘Where can we find Carl?’ Sean asked.

  ‘At home, I imagine. Or on his way to work?’ Eric said as he looked at his watch.

  ‘We’ve got his address on file,’ Grace said as she put a hand on Sean’s arm. She stood up and Sean did the same while Eric breathed a visible and audible sigh of relief.

  ‘I just want you to know, I love those boys,’ Eric said as his eyes brimmed with tears. ‘And I would rather take a good kicking myself than see anything happen to either of them.’

  ‘Thanks for the information, Eric,’ said Grace.

  ‘If we find out you’re lying to us, we’ll be back,’ Sean said as they left.

  ‘What do you think?’ Sean asked as they climbed into Grace’s car.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s still possible that someone followed Paul, or waited until he showed up here. But let’s speak to Carl and see what he knows.’

  ‘Okay, but if I don’t at least punch someone soon, Grace, I think I’ll fucking explode!’

  She nodded. She was keeping him on a tight leash, and she knew he hated it, but they couldn’t afford to draw any attention to themselves and alert Paul’s killer that they were onto him, or piss off the police.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  ‘Mind if I handle this one?’ Sean asked as he pushed open the gate leading to Carl’s house.

  Grace considered him. He was spoiling for a fight with someone, that much she knew. And he was as frustrated as she was that their leads continued to bring nothing but dead ends, but she trusted him to get the job done.

  ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’

  Sean banged repeatedly on the front door of Carl’s terraced house in Anfield until Carl answered the door. ‘All right,’ he said as he did. ‘What’s the fucking—’

&
nbsp; Before he could finish his sentence, Sean had put a large hand on his chest and pushed him inside the house, sending him flying backwards onto the floor. Grace followed Sean into the house and closed the door behind them.

  ‘What the fuck? Grace?’ Carl said as he got up from the floor, dusting himself off.

  ‘We need to talk to you, Carl,’ Grace said.

  ‘Okay,’ he said with a puzzled look on his face. ‘Come through.’

  Grace and Sean followed Carl into his living room.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Carl asked.

  ‘Why were you in the gym the day Paul was shot?’ Sean barked.

  Carl stared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you fucking deaf? Why were you in the gym when Paul was shot?’

  Carl blinked at him. ‘I was training. The same reason I’m there nearly every day.’

  ‘Did you know he was going to be there?’

  Carl shook his head. ‘No. Maybe. I don’t know.’

  ‘So, which is it? No? Maybe? Or you don’t know?’ Sean shouted as he took a step towards Carl, who stepped back and bumped into the armchair.

  ‘I mean, he’s there most days, like me. But I didn’t know he’d definitely be there.’

  ‘And what about Connor?’

  ‘What about him?’

  Sean slapped Carl around the back of the head, causing him to stumble backwards onto the chair. ‘Are you fucking stupid or something? Did you think Connor was going to be there?’

  Carl closed his eyes as though he was deep in thought. ‘Yes,’ he finally said with a nod. ‘Connor had arranged to have a spar with me. But then he didn’t turn up.’

  ‘Who else knew Connor was going to be there?’ Sean barked.

  ‘I don’t fucking know,’ Carl said and Sean punched him in the face, breaking his nose in the process.

  ‘Ow. What the fuck?’ Carl howled as he clutched his nose.

  At this point, Grace stepped forward and placed a hand on Sean’s arm. He looked at her and she gave him a slight shake of her head, indicating a change of tactics was in order.

  ‘Carl,’ she said softly as she sat on the coffee table opposite him. ‘Did you tell anyone you were meeting Connor in the gym?’

  He stared at her as the blood poured from his nose.

  ‘This is really important. Did you talk to anyone at all about it?’

  Carl sat up straight, his hand still over his nose. ‘I think I mentioned it to a few of the lads at work. But it wasn’t a secret or anything, Grace. I always spar with the lads. Everyone knows it.’

  ‘Did you mention it to anyone unusual? Anyone you’d never usually talk to? Maybe someone asked you about it?’

  Carl shook his head. ‘No. I was just talking about it at work, that’s all.’

  ‘Someone could have overheard then?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Carl said with a shrug. ‘But it’s not like I would have been talking specifics. Do you think this has something to do with Paul being shot?’ he asked, his eyes wide with fear as Sean glared at him from the other side of the room.

  ‘Maybe,’ Grace replied, then turned to Sean. ‘Come on, I don’t think we’re going to find out anything here.’

  Sean nodded at her, his face set in a grimace. Grace knew he’d feel better if he could give Carl a good kicking, but it would be unwarranted in her opinion. Instead, he followed her silently out of Carl’s house.

  Grace sighed as she started the engine of her car. Yet another dead end. It was beyond frustrating.

  ‘This is getting fucking ridiculous,’ Sean said as if reading her mind. ‘I don’t understand how nobody seems to fucking know a thing. Maybe we need to try a change of tactics?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘You know we can’t afford to draw too much attention to ourselves with this one. Besides, Jake and Connor are trying the different approach and, apart from a marked increase in A and E admissions, they haven’t had any results either.’

  ‘So, what now then?’

  ‘Maybe it’s time to cast our nets further afield,’ she said as she pulled the car away from the kerb. ‘Leave it with me.’

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Grace slipped out of the house, closing the door softly beside her so as not to wake Michael. Not being able to arrange Paul’s funeral was getting to him, preventing the closure he so desperately needed and leaving him in some awful purgatory where he didn’t seem to know whether he was coming or going. Belle and Oscar were staying with their grandparents and Grace was fed up with chasing leads that went nowhere. She had to find out some useful information soon or she would go crazy. Every time she thought about Paul, and Michael in his grief, she felt like her heart was going to break. It didn’t help that she had the added worry of wondering what Connor and Jake were up to. They had been on a violent rampage across Liverpool since the day Paul had been murdered. Not only were they putting themselves at risk, but they were drawing far too much attention to the whole family.

  Grace sighed as she reached her car. She supposed she couldn’t blame the boys reacting the way they had. They both loved Paul – adored him, in fact. He had left a gaping hole in their lives, one that she wasn’t sure could ever be filled. Violence seemed to be their preferred outlet, and the only way they knew to solve their problems They obviously had no tangible leads. She would have to rein them in before too long, before they caused irreparable damage. She just hoped that she’d be able to.

  In the meantime, while her son and stepson went around breaking bones and smashing heads together, she would do what she did best and tap every source of information she could think of. Someone, somewhere must know something. Paul’s murder was a professional hit carried out by someone with considerable skill and that limited her suspect pool considerably. Grace had never had cause to use the services of a hitman herself, but an old acquaintance of hers, Solomon Shepherd, had. Grace was intending to pay him a visit and see if he had any names for her.

  Grace pulled up her car at the gates of Sol’s huge detached house in Didsbury. Buzzing the intercom, she waited until Sol’s thick Mancunian accent filled the speaker.

  ‘Grace,’ he said, obviously able to see her on his security camera. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘I was hoping you could help me out, Sol,’ she replied.

  ‘I’m off out with the wife soon. It’s not exactly a good time. You should have called me first.’

  ‘I know, Sol.’ She smiled at the camera. ‘But I’ve driven all the way here. Just ten minutes of your time is all I’m after. For old times’ sake?’

  He took a few seconds to reply. ‘All right. Ten minutes,’ he said as the electric gates started to open.

  Grace walked into Sol’s lavish house and followed him into one of his many rooms. She noticed a young woman with dark skin and long black hair slipping down the hallway and into the back of the house. She assumed it was his wife, Jasmine.

  Sol sat down on a leather wingback chair in what appeared to be his sitting room and indicated for Grace to do the same. She sat in the chair opposite him.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, Sol, but I wondered if you might be able to help me out.’

  Sol nodded at her with a concerned expression on his face. ‘I assume this is about Michael’s lad being shot?’

  Grace nodded back.

  ‘It was a damn shame what happened to him, Gracie. Do pass on my regards to Michael, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will, Sol. Thanks.’

  ‘So, what makes you think I could help you? I haven’t got a clue what happens over there in la-la land any more.’

  ‘It was a professional hit, Sol,’ Grace told him.

  ‘Oh?’ He sat up straighter in his chair. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘It was clean and quick. One shot through the neck. From the angle and the direction the motorbike rode off in, the shooter was right-handed. The police inspector told us it was a perfect hit, tearing straight through his
carotid artery and ensuring he died instantly. It was either an extreme stroke of luck, or someone who knew exactly what he was doing.’

  Sol nodded in agreement as she spoke.

  ‘And there was the getaway. The motorbike was stolen and then dumped on a country lane in Lymm. No prints. No DNA. Nothing to identify the shooter in any way.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Sol queried.

  ‘Same way you know everything that happens in Manchester, Sol. I have people in very high places on my payroll.’

  ‘But not high enough?’ he replied with a grin.

  Grace bristled. She’d assumed that recent events might have afforded her the liberty of forgoing Sol’s usual arrogance and pissing contests – but he just couldn’t help himself. ‘Nope. Just not dirty enough,’ she countered. ‘Even bent coppers draw the line at hiring professional hitmen.’

  ‘Only because they can’t afford them,’ Sol scoffed.

  ‘Well, it seems there’s not many who could. Not the decent ones anyway. Not the type who murdered Paul.’

  ‘But I can?’ Sol said, realising what information she wanted from him.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Sol shook his head. ‘I can’t be giving you the names of my contacts, Grace.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t even know their real names, and besides that, I intend to use their services again some day, and I’d rather they weren’t all at the bottom of the Mersey in concrete boots.’

  ‘Come on, Sol. This is Michael’s son we’re talking about.’

  ‘Why have you come to me, Grace? You could get this information, no problem, with your contacts. Why me?’ he said as he stood up and started to pace the room.

  ‘Because I need the information fast. And I also wanted your opinion on who it might be. Does it fit with the MO of anyone you’ve used before?’

  ‘No. But that doesn’t mean anything. They’re experts. They try not to have an MO.’