Head of the Firm Read online

  Leigh looked at him. She wasn’t entirely sure they’d got the big fish at all – not the biggest, at least. He was still sitting pretty in his mansion while his minions did the time. Realising she was on the verge of offending Nick, who seemed to be misinterpreting her frustration as criticism, she didn’t press him any further. She couldn’t blame him for his sudden prickliness. She was his boss now, and even she knew she wasn’t the easiest person to work for. Coming from a long line of police officers, Nick took great pride in his job, and he was good at it. He didn’t take kindly to anyone questioning his effectiveness, or the effectiveness of the police in general.

  Leigh sighed. ‘But sometimes, don’t you just wish we could act on what we know without thinking about the consequences?’

  Nick stared at her. ‘What are you on about? Are you talking about becoming some kind of vigilante superhero?’ he said before breaking into a grin.

  ‘Don’t be soft,’ she said as she gave him a playful shove. ‘But if you had the chance to take one of them out of the game, with no repercussions. No comeback. Would you?’

  ‘What are you on about, Leigh?’

  ‘I’m just asking a question. Hypothetically speaking. A free pass. Would you?’

  ‘Hypothetically speaking?’

  Leigh nodded.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Nick conceded with a shrug. ‘But there’s no such thing as a free pass.’

  Leigh was about to respond when the doorbell rang. Nick jumped up to answer it, leaving Leigh contemplating whether she would ever use her free pass or not. It was tempting, if only because the potential recipient had been a thorn in her side for a very long time.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  The sun shone brightly on the day of Paul Carter’s funeral. As Michael climbed out of the black funeral car outside The Blue Rooms, he wondered how the world had the audacity to look so bright and chirpy on such a black day. He braced himself for the afternoon ahead. He didn’t feel like speaking to anyone. The only people he wanted to be around were his wife and children. But he knew that the club was full of people who wanted to pay their respects to his son, and he owed it to Paul to acknowledge that.

  As he wondered whether he had the strength to smile and be polite for the rest of the day, Michael felt Grace squeeze his hand and remembered that she was by his side, and he would be fine. He pushed open the glass door of The Blue Rooms and they stepped inside. The room fell silent when he walked in, and the knowledge that they had all been waiting for his arrival weighed heavy on his shoulders. He felt like the guest of honour at a party he didn’t want to be at. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the sea of faces. Some people he knew and some he didn’t. Some of them had known Paul since the day he was born and some had hardly known him at all. Still, they knew the Carter family and wanted to pay their respects all the same.

  Holding tightly onto Grace’s hand, Michael walked through the crowded room. Everyone nodded solemnly as he passed, some of them giving him a gentle pat in the shoulder as he did. He would no doubt speak to them all personally before the day was out, but right now there seemed to be a shared understanding that he needed to be left to his own thoughts. He made his way to the bar where Connor and Jake were already waiting.

  ‘You want a drink, Dad?’ Connor asked.

  ‘Whatever you two are having,’ Michael said, indicating the two glasses of dark liquid they were holding.

  ‘Grace?’ Connor asked.

  ‘I’ll have a brandy,’ she replied.

  Connor ordered the drinks from the barmaid. After she placed them on the bar Michael lifted his glass. ‘To Paul,’ he said.

  Grace, Connor and Jake raised theirs too. ‘To Paul,’ they chorused before they all took a drink.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Michael had spoken to more people than he could care to remember, each of them offering their condolences on his loss. Each of them telling him what a good man his son was. He’d smiled politely and nodded at them all. Then there had been the usual line that people trotted out at funerals and he’d lost count of the number of people who’d commented on what a good turnout it was. He’d resisted the urge to punch each one of them in the face. What did it matter whether five or five thousand people had turned up to Paul’s funeral? Nothing would bring his son back. At the end of the day, he was still gone. It wasn’t like he could enjoy the party.

  Michael was enjoying a much-needed moment of quiet at the bar when his ex-wife Cheryl sidled over to him, reeking of Bacardi. She smiled at him, flashing a row of perfect white teeth, and draped an arm around his shoulder.

  ‘It’s a good turnout, isn’t it?’ she slurred.

  He gritted his teeth. ‘Yeah,’ he said before finishing off his drink in one large gulp.

  ‘Where’s that wife of yours?’ she sneered. ‘She should be right here by your side on a day like today, not swanning around holding court. Have you seen her? Working the room like she’s at a bleeding garden party and not my son’s funeral.’

  Michael took a deep breath. There was no way he was going to cause a scene at Paul’s funeral. No matter how much Cheryl tried to push his buttons.

  ‘Grace is exactly where I need her to be,’ he snapped. ‘Talking to people so I don’t have to.’

  ‘Where’s Connor? I’ve hardly seen him all day.’ She sniffed. ‘He should be out here with his family.’

  ‘He’s probably in the back with Jake. Leave him alone. This is a tough day for him.’

  ‘For him?’ Cheryl screeched. ‘And what about me? I’m Paul’s mother. It was me that carried him for nine months. Me that gave birth to him. Ruined me figure an’ all.’

  Using all of his willpower, Michael fought the urge to tell her what he really thought about her mothering abilities. He would like to have reminded her that she’d been a bloody awful mother since the twins had left the womb, but he couldn’t. Not today. Instead, he caught the eye of Murf and beckoned him over.

  ‘Everything okay, Boss?’ he asked as he reached them.

  Removing Cheryl’s arm from his neck, Michael shook his head. ‘This is a hard day for us all, mate, especially Cheryl. She needs someone to look after her,’ he said.

  Understanding exactly what he meant, Murf nodded. Taking Cheryl’s hand, he started to guide her away. ‘Come on, love. Let’s get you a drink and something to eat. You can sit with me and the missus,’ he said.

  Michael gave him a nod of thanks and Murf smiled in return. No further words were needed.

  Putting his empty glass onto the bar, Michael walked into the back of the club to find Jake and Connor. The door to Jake’s office was closed, so, assuming they were in there, Michael pushed it open without knocking. He saw Connor and Jake sitting at opposite sides of the desk with a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker between them.

  ‘Dad?’ Connor said. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Not really,’ he said with a sigh as he took a seat on the small leather sofa in the corner of the office.

  ‘I’m sorry I just left you to it,’ Connor said apologetically. ‘I can’t face talking to everyone.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Son. That’s what me and Grace are here for.’

  ‘Drink?’ Jake asked, holding up the whisky bottle.

  Michael shook his head. ‘No, thanks. Your mum hates that stuff, you know? I came home smelling of it once, and I’d only had one with Sean after we’d closed a deal. I gave her a kiss and she threw up all over the kitchen floor. She was shaking for hours after. I’ve never touched it since.’

  ‘I think it reminds her of my dad,’ Jake said.

  ‘Why do you drink it around her then?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Well, she doesn’t have to kiss me, does she?’ he replied with a grin. ‘Besides, it reminds me of him too.’

  Michael nodded. As much as he hated Nathan Conlon, and everything he had put Grace and his family through, he was still Jake’s father. Grace rarely talked about Nathan. When she did, despite everything he had done to her, she had ne
ver once badmouthed him to Jake, no matter what the circumstances, and Michael admired her for that.

  ‘Your mum is looking for you, by the way,’ Michael said to Connor. ‘You’re probably better off staying in here out of the way.’

  Connor rolled his eyes. ‘She’s a pain in the fucking arse. It’s a pity she didn’t have more time for me and Paul when he was alive.’

  ‘Oy! She’s still your mother,’ Michael snapped. ‘You should call round and see her tomorrow, when she’s sober.’

  ‘Can’t,’ Connor said with a shake of his head. ‘We’re busy tomorrow.’

  Jake nodded in agreement.

  ‘Busy doing what?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Just business,’ Connor replied.

  ‘What sort of business?’

  ‘The usual sort. Since when do you need to know what we’re up to?’

  ‘Since the pair of you have been going around causing mayhem, that’s when. I’ve told you to leave things to me.’

  ‘Paul was my brother, Dad. Do you expect me to sit back and do nothing while his killer walks about thinking he’s got away with it?’

  ‘So that’s what you’re worried about. What people might think? This is about yours and Jake’s egos as much as Paul. You’re letting your emotions rule your heads. You’re being reckless and impulsive and that leads to mistakes. One or both of you are going to end up getting arrested or bloody killed.’

  ‘We know what we’re doing,’ Connor replied petulantly.

  Michael shook his head. He knew he was challenging their authority and they didn’t like it. They weren’t used to it, but he didn’t care. ‘I’m warning the pair of you to leave it alone. I’ll deal with it. Understand?’

  The two boys glared at him.

  ‘I said, do you understand?’ he shouted.

  Connor and Jake nodded.

  Michael stood up. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘At least that gives me one less thing to worry about.’

  ‘I just fucking miss him so much,’ Connor said suddenly, as a tear ran down his cheek.

  Michael walked over to him and pulled him into an embrace. ‘I know, Son. So do I.’ He looked over at Jake and saw that he was crying too. Michael beckoned him to stand up and pulled him into a hug too.

  ‘I couldn’t stand to lose either of you as well,’ Michael whispered as he held the two boys close, his hands on the back of their heads. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?’

  ‘We won’t,’ they replied, although even Michael knew it was a lie. It had been two weeks since Paul’s death and Grace still hadn’t been able to find out who was behind it. He knew that the trigger man was dead, but that gave him little comfort. He wanted to know who paid Zak Miller, because until they were out of the picture, none of his family were safe. He was becoming increasingly impatient himself and he knew how Connor and Jake felt. He wanted to bust some heads open, but he trusted Grace’s methods. If anyone could find Paul’s killer, she could.

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Leigh Moss sat on the chair in her office and groaned as she looked at the pile of paperwork on her desk. She was about to tackle it when the landline started to ring.

  ‘DI Moss,’ she answered.

  ‘Hey, Leigh. How are you?’

  ‘Nat?’ she replied. ‘It’s lovely to hear from you.’

  DI Natalie Smith was her opposite number in Greater Manchester Police. They had worked on a case together earlier the previous year when they were both sergeants, and, with a lot in common, had got on like the proverbial house on fire. They had kept in touch and spoke to each other every couple of weeks. Leigh felt like Nat was one of the few people who understood her. ‘I’m good, thanks. And you?’

  ‘Same old,’ Nat replied with a sigh. ‘I’m still working sixty hours on a good week. I hear things are crazy in your neck of the woods too?’

  ‘Tell me about it. I’m pulling seventy-hour weeks myself. Sometimes it feels like it’s never ending.’

  ‘Wouldn’t change it for the world though, eh?’ Natalie said with a laugh.

  ‘Nope.’ Leigh smiled. She and Natalie were so alike. They both thrived on the adrenaline. They were both much more hands-on than most of the other DIs they knew, because being in the thick of the action was what they lived for.

  ‘It’s a shame we can’t work together again,’ Natalie said. ‘Now that was an operation.’

  ‘Yeah, it was.’ Operation Goldfinch had been a joint one between Merseyside and Greater Manchester Police, to crack a human trafficking ring. It had been hugely successful, resulting in international headlines and lengthy prison sentences for most of the people involved.

  ‘It still kills me that Ted got away though,’ Natalie said.

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ Leigh agreed. Ted was the nickname they’d both used for the big player. The one who had orchestrated the whole thing, but had walked away without even a caution. He was well known for being the biggest criminal in Manchester, but he was like Teflon, hence the name ‘Teflon Ted’.

  ‘He’s at it again, you know,’ Natalie said.

  ‘What? No? He never bloody learns, does he? Surely it’s only a matter of time before someone is willing to throw him under the bus?’

  ‘Well, it hasn’t happened yet,’ Natalie replied with a sigh. ‘Do you know what, Leigh, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to take that bastard down.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Nothing! He’s pure evil. He hasn’t one moral in his entire body. You’d think after what happened to his daughter, he’d have developed a bit of compassion, but he only got worse. If only one of his competitors would take him out,’ Natalie said with a sigh. ‘It would make my job a whole lot easier.’

  Leigh sat in silence for a moment with Nat’s words thundering around her head. ‘You still there, Leigh?’ Natalie asked eventually.

  ‘What? Yes, sorry, Nat. I was thinking about a case.’

  ‘Aren’t you always?’ Natalie laughed.

  ‘Pitfall of living and breathing the job, I suppose. As you know.’

  ‘Yep. Only too well. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. But do you fancy getting together for a few drinks next week? I’ve got some leave coming up and am trying to muster the courage to visit my brother and his new baby in Southport. A night out with you might just give me the push I need.’

  ‘Yes. Thursday any good for you?’

  ‘Perfect!’

  ‘Great. It’s a date then. See you next week, Nat.’

  ‘Bye, Leigh.’

  Leigh put the phone down and leaned back in her chair. She glanced at the three commendations from the Chief Constable on her office wall and felt a rush of pride. She loved her job more than anything. She had sacrificed everything for it, even her family, and she’d never regretted it for a second. One of the reasons she loved it so much was because she got to make a difference. She got to make the bad guys pay. And she had always done that within the letter of the law, sticking to every rule and following the correct procedures so that a case had the best chance of making it to court and securing a conviction. But no matter how good you were at your job, and how much blood and sweat you poured into a case, there were always some people who were powerful enough, and terrifying enough, to slide under the radar.

  Leigh had considered breaking her code of ethics many times, particularly when she was a uniform in the family crime investigation unit and had witnessed domestics that had left women and children battered and bruised, inflicting deep emotional and physical scars that would never heal. But no matter how strongly she’d felt it, it had always been a brief flicker of a thought and she had never once seriously considered acting on it. Not until now, at least. It had been over two weeks since Paul Carter’s murder, and she they were no closer to putting the killer behind bars. Leigh had a good idea who was responsible, but she didn’t have a shred of evidence to back it up, and where this man was concerned, none of her superiors would sanction an arrest unless her case was watertight.

  Leigh s
at in her living room and picked up the glass of vodka before downing it in one. The ice in the glass clinked against the bottom as she placed it down on the coffee table. Taking the burner phone out of its packaging, she inserted the pay-as-you-go sim card into the side and switched on the power, watching as the phone came to life. She swallowed hard and contemplated pouring herself another large vodka but decided against it. Better to have a clear head. She wasn’t usually much of a drinker, not any more, but she’d needed something to take the edge off her nerves. There was a reason they called it Dutch courage, she thought to herself. Years ago, when she’d worked as an exotic dancer in Nathan Conlon’s club, she’d got drunk every single night, or used coke or anything she could get her hands on. It had been the only way to blot out the wandering hands and slobbering faces.

  Leigh’s hand trembled as she dialled the number. It was one she knew off by heart, having memorised it years ago and never forgotten it. Her pulse quickened and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She was about to do something that she never thought she’d even consider. She loved her job. She was damn good at it. She upheld the law and kept the public safe. She was a crucial part of the thin blue line, and she was bloody proud of it too, despite what her family thought. Now she was about to go against everything that had been drilled into her. She was about to betray the very principles she had sworn to uphold. In principle, what she was about to do was wrong. Very wrong. But morally, it was very right. She believed that with every fibre of her being. Just this once she would cross that thin blue line, because it was the right thing to do.

  Thinking back to the Crimestoppers phone call and the woman in a state of distress who had whispered that vital piece of information, Leigh pressed dial and lifted the phone to her ear.

  ‘Hello?’ the recipient answered on the fourth ring.