Chapter 44
‘Did you know that they used to hold executions here?’ Stanford asked, pointing at the entrance of HMP Manchester which, despite the name change more than thirty years ago was still referred to as Strangeways. ‘Had its own execution chamber and everything.’
‘I’ll try to remember that if I’m ever a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,’ Eastwood replied. She raised her arms and stretched. ‘You can drive back. My back is fucked.’
‘Gladly. The sooner we get this job done and get back to London the better. Did I ever tell you that Gene wanted us to move up here a few years ago? He went to Manchester University and, according to him, those were the best years of his life.’
‘Aww, bless him. He’s got all of those lovely memories and now he has to wake up to your ugly mug every morning.’
‘Do you know what, Eastie, you’re very lucky that I don’t have self-esteem problems.’
‘No, you just have “I’m a snooty Southerner who doesn’t like to go north of the M25” problems,’ Eastwood said, opening her bag and pulling out the letter from the governor of HMP Manchester authorising their prison visits to see Gareth Humphreys and Karim Messenger.
‘I hope this doesn’t end up being a wild-goose chase,’ said Stanford. ‘This case is already doing a number on my head.’
‘It’s the scalping, isn’t it?’ Eastwood said, lowering her voice. ‘It takes this case to a completely different level and the people doing it. They’re beyond wicked.’
‘Excuse me, Detective Sergeants Stanford and Eastwood here. Met Police,’ Stanford called through the speech panel on the reception desk.
A few seconds later a man appeared at the desk. Eastwood pushed their warrant cards and authorisation letter through the service hatch.
The receptionist wordlessly turned his back and walked to his desk at the end of the room.
‘Bloody hell, you wouldn’t think we had a murderer to catch, would you?’ Stanford huffed.
‘What’s wrong with you? I know we had to leave at the crack of dawn.’
‘We left before that.’
‘Whatever. As Henley would say, you spent most of the drive-up with a screwed face.’
Stanford leaned his head back and sighed. ‘We got a call from the social workers yesterday.’
‘Has the adoption fallen through?’ said Eastwood, reaching for Stanford’s hand.
Stanford shook his head and laughed. ‘No, it turns out that our … well our, yeah, our son, has a sister. She’s three. She’s been in foster care but with another borough and they only found out about her a couple of days ago.’
‘Oh, wow. Oh shit.’
‘Exactly. It’s … I’m trying to get my head around it. We were getting the house ready for one kid and now … fucking hell, Eastie.’
‘How’s Gene dealing with it?’
‘Oh, he’s not. He got pissed last night and passed out on the sofa. He was still there when I left this morning. We’ve got—’
A loud rapping on the security glass interrupted Stanford.
‘Right, you’ve got a problem,’ the receptionist said loudly as Stanford and Eastwood approached and he roughly pushed their warrant cards and authorisation letter back through the service hatch.
‘Karim Messenger is refusing to come out of his cell. He doesn’t want to see you and unless you’re planning to arrest him for something, I don’t think there’s much you can do about it. ’
‘Thank you for the legal advice,’ said Eastwood. ‘What about Humphreys?’
‘He’s still good to go but he’s currently appearing via video link at Manchester Crown Court.’
‘He’s back at court?’ Stanford asked as the receptionist pressed a button under the desk and a staff door opened. ‘What for?’
‘Threw a kettle filled with boiling water and sugar at his cellmate when they were rioting,’ the receptionist replied as he ushered them into the prison.
Gareth Humphreys adjusted the blue, torn bib over his protruding stomach as the prison guard slammed the door shut. ‘The weird thing is that I’ve been sitting in Strangeways for what, six months, and no one has visited me. And today, I’m Mr Popular,’ he said.
Gareth smiled revealing a gap where his left incisor and canine tooth should have been.
His face showed all the signs that he’d been in a fight.
A bruise covered his left cheek and lower jaw with a row of black stitches across the bridge of his nose.
He ran a hand through his thick brown hair revealing another cut on his forehead.
‘Even my own mam and kids haven’t visited me,’ he said.
‘They’ve probably had enough of you,’ Eastwood said. ‘Hurry up and sit down before the guards start getting concerned.’
‘Dutifully noted,’ Gareth replied. The table edge pressed into his stomach as he settled himself into the seat.
‘So, who exactly are you?’ he asked. ‘All they told me was that the police wanted to see me, but you’re from London and according to my social diary, the last time I was down in London was to watch City in a Champions League game about six years ago. ’
‘I’m DS Eastwood and this is DS Stanford. We’re from the Serial Crimes Unit.’
Gareth paled as his eyes darted from Eastwood to Stanford and then the door. His Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed, his hand reaching for a cup of water that didn’t exist. ‘Why would … why do you want to talk to me? Don’t you lot deal with serial killers? I wouldn’t know anything about that.’
‘We think you do know something,’ said Eastwood. ‘We want to talk to you about the group you were a part of, Iron Shadow.’
‘Why?’ asked Gareth. ‘I’m not involved in any of that stuff anymore.’
‘That’s only because you’re stuck in here,’ said Stanford.
‘No, no,’ Gareth said, shaking his head. ‘It was all over with them after I did that first stint inside for assaulting that fucking paedo.’
‘You mean Mantell. Your brother-in-law.’
‘Who else would I be talking about? I still can’t believe my sister stood by him. Defended him in court. The sick fuck.’
‘But that’s not true, is it, that you weren’t involved in that stuff anymore?’ said Eastwood. ‘You were released on licence in October 2019 and was suspected of being involved in another assault a month later.’
Gareth’s eyes grew smaller, his stomach rising and falling as he inhaled sharply. ‘Are you planning to arrest me for that again?’
‘No. We just want information. We’re investigating the murder of three people and the attempted murder of two others.’
‘Down in London?’
‘Bloody hell, you’re quick,’ said Stanford, rolling his eyes.
‘Yes, down in London. Look, you and Messenger both did time for harassing and assaulting Mantell and even though you were still serving your sentence when Gong Bo Hyoo was attacked, we suspect you know who was involved and told them how to really painfully punish someone.’
Gareth sniffed as though he’d suddenly developed a cold, his face reddening and developing an oily sheen as sweat pushed through his large pores.
‘Someone attempted to tar and feather Gong Bo Hyoo by using sulphuric acid,’ said Eastwood. ‘Which kind of fits with your MO. Weren’t you in court half an hour ago to enter a plea to a charge of causing grievous bodily harm with intent? Poured boiling sugar over an inmate.’
Gareth licked his dry, cracked lips and swallowed again. ‘That was self-defence, and I pleaded not guilty. I’m allowed to defend myself. The law says so.’
‘We’re not here to debate what the law says,’ said Eastwood. ‘Tell us about Iron Shadow. How you met. Who the members were or are.’
‘You should really talk to Karim,’ Gareth said. ‘He’s the one who got me involved.’
‘We’re not talking to Karim. We’re talking to you.’
‘What do I get for it? Co-operating with you lot I mean,’ Gareth said as the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a smile. ‘I’m not a grass, but for the right price.’
Stanford straightened up and leaned forward on the table, the space between him and Gareth growing tight and claustrophobic. ‘I’m tired, fed up and hungry. I didn’t spend nearly five hours on the motorway to play games with the likes of you. Do you understand?’
‘Understood.’
‘Good. Now tell us about the group,’ Eastwood said, clicking her pen.
‘It started with Karim,’ Gareth said quickly.
‘His little sister was abused by her teacher. He got away with it and Karim didn’t take it well.
One night, we were in the pub talking about it and in he walked, that dirty paedo who abused Karim’s sister.
He was in the pub with his missus, acting like …
I don’t know, he was God’s gift. His missus left and he stayed until closing and we followed him.
That’s all I’m going to say about that. You can fill in the gaps.
Anyway, I don’t know, it like triggered something and it … it was a rush.’
‘Are you saying you started the group?’ asked Eastwood.
Gareth shook his head. ‘No, Karim found them, or they found him on Facebook, I think. The next thing I know, he’s dragging me along to a meeting.’
‘Who was in this meeting?’
‘I wouldn’t even call it a meeting. I was expecting a massive thing, but there was only one person at first. Called herself Mika. She said that her and her partner wanted to expand beyond chasing perverts with a phone through the park.’
‘What did she mean by that?’
‘I had no idea to start with,’ said Gareth, the chair creaking under his weight as he leaned back.
‘And then she explained how the courts were getting it wrong. How people like that teacher were getting away with murder because the jury weren’t always equipped to make the right decision.
And she had a point, right? Look what happened with my niece. ’
Eastwood and Stanford both remained quiet. Their gaze fixed on Gareth.
‘Anyway, after that first meeting. Karim started getting information on targets. And it was good information. Full name, home address, bail address, information about their cases, emails and, sometimes, phone numbers.’
‘And what would you do with that information?’ asked Eastwood.