Nightmare City Read Free

as a young copper was
that there was only one occasion when it was acceptable for a
police officer to be seen by the public with hands in pockets. That
occasion was at the scene of a crime. It was OK because it
prevented an officer touching and possibly tainting evidence which
is all too easy to do.
    Let your eyes do the walking, he’d been told. Take it all in
for a few minutes, then take your hands out.
    It was a piece of advice which had stood him in good stead for
many years. Apart from anything else, it was a way of preventing
panic rising at a particularly violent or messy crime. Like this
one.
    He stood just inside the door of the newsagents. Luton was one
pace behind him.
    ‘ Christ!’ breathed the young detective into Henry’s
ear.
    Henry pursed his lips and gave a silent whistle. It was an
effort to keep his hands pushed in his pockets. He wanted to rub
his eyes because they could not believe what they were looking
at.
    ‘ Do you see what I see, Degsy?’ he asked Luton.
    ‘ Er - yep, think so,’ he replied unsurely.
    ‘ You stay here and don’t move,’ Henry told him. ‘And make sure
no one else comes through that door.’
    ‘ You got it.’
    Taking care not to step in the blood - difficult because there
appeared to be gallons of the stuff - he moved around the body of
the female shopper covered in birthday cards. He took a couple of
long strides to the counter where he squatted down briefly to look
at the bodies of the two customers. Both still clutched their
lottery slips. Some jackpot, Henry thought.
    He stood up, walked behind the counter.
    The bodies of the two shopkeepers were lying in an untidy
pile, one on top of the other. They seemed
to be clinging to each other in a final embrace. Both had massive
head wounds. They had obviously been blasted against the shelves
behind the counter and the contents had tipped over them. Packets
of cigarettes, cigars, matches, were scattered
everywhere.
    At first Henry did not spot the other body lying in the
semi-gloom of the hallway which connected the shop to the living
area beyond.
    Carefully he stepped over the shopkeepers and went to inspect
what he truly hoped was the last body.
    Once again he thought his eyes were playing tricks on
him.
    He found a light switch, turning it on by pressing it with his
thumbnail.
    Fluorescent lights pinged on, flooding the hallway with eerie
brightness.
    He saw the police firearms cap.
    He saw the body armour with the word Police stamped across the chest. He
saw the 9mm Sig next to the body.
    And the face blown away beyond recognition.
    In that instant Henry knew that, as bad as it had been to
begin with, this whole crime had taken on a much darker, murkier
complexion.
    He blinked.
    Somewhere in the distance, getting closer, was the wail of an
ambulance siren.
    Not much point in you coming, he thought bitterly.
     
     
    Henry stood on the pavement outside the shop, watching the
uniformed cops push the public back and begin to string out a
cordon.
    ‘ Right back,’ he shouted, confirming his words with a sweeping
gesture of his hands. ‘Right back. That’s it.’
    Derek Luton appeared by his side.
    ‘ What’ve you got so far then, Degsy?’ Henry knew Luton had
been asking questions.
    Luton consulted the scrap of paper he’d used to write on. ‘Two
witnesses saw three big guys leaving the shop armed to the back
teeth. Got their names and addresses here...’
    ‘ Oh good, let’s go and arrest them.’
    Luton looked at Henry slightly nonplussed for a second. ‘No,
no . . . I mean the witnesses’ names and addresses.’ He didn’t
quite see the joke and carried on. ‘All wearing white hats, masks,
T-shirts. They piled into a car which could’ve been a Peugeot 405
or Cavalier, something like that, colour uncertain. Drove off
without undue haste. Cool bastards. Sounds like the crew who’ve
been hitting the newsagents for the last couple of
months.’
    Luton was referring to a vicious armed gang who had robbed