Truth or Dare by Tania Carver Read Free Book Online Page A

had nothing on these second-city citizens.
    ‘Moses Heap.’ Sperring smiled as he said it, pleased with himself.
    The name meant nothing to Phil. ‘Right. Good.’
    ‘You don’t know Moses Heap?’ Sperring smirked. ‘Must be before your time. There were two big gangs in this city.’
    ‘Were?’
    ‘Coming to that. There were two big gangs, been going for years. Back to the Handsworth riots in the mid-Eighties. The Handsworth Boys and the Chicken Shack Crew.’
    ‘Right. Those names meant to mean anything?’
    ‘Watson’s Café in Handsworth was where one of them formed. They controlled virtually all of the drugs, women and door security for nightclubs across the city. We could barely get a hook in them. Then there were some arguments – drugs, women, whatever it is that sort argue over – and the Chicken Shack Crew were formed, running out of the Chicken Shack on Soho Road. The Handsworth Boys took Aston, Erdington and Lozells, the other lot Handsworth, Perry Barr and Ladywood. Crack cocaine, heroin, the lot.’
    ‘Ironic that the Handsworth Boys shouldn’t run Handsworth.’
    ‘And a source of much anger, I gather. Long story short, they started to get out of control. Like the fucking wild west for shootings round there. School kids involved, the lot. Moses Heap ran the Handsworth Boys. Anyway, after the leader of the Chicken Shack Boys, Julian Wilson, was murdered – and no one was ever done for it – Moses Heap decided things had gotten out of hand so he tried to reach across to the new gang leader, Julian’s brother Tiny. They sat down like it was fucking Northern Ireland and brokered some kind of peace treaty.’
    ‘Good for them,’ said Phil.
    ‘Yeah. But not all of them got the memo. So it’s shaky, still. Dangerous. But some of them, Moses Heap being a prime example, are claiming to have given up the dark path and reinventing themselves as community spokesmen, educators, a force for good, all that.’
    ‘All very interesting,’ said Phil, ‘but how does that help us find Chloe and Shannon’s killer?’
    ‘Well, call me a cynic if you must, but I reckon that Moses’s sudden conversion is a load of bollo. He’s playing a game. Playing everyone. He always was a player. Bit of a pimp. He’s got previous for that as well as the other stuff and if he’s a friend of Letisha Watson, or if she’s one of his ladies, maybe he’s not above getting her a favour done in return for her doing him one?’
    ‘Like killing her rival and child?’
    Sperring shrugged. ‘Worth looking into.’
    Phil nodded. ‘So where can we find Moses Heap?’
    Sperring smiled. ‘From what I hear, he’s discovered the healing power of music.’
     
    As soon as Phil opened the door his ears were assaulted by a barrage of sound. Hip hop beats punched up to ear-bleed level, an angry, violent rap fantasy of guns, gangs and hoes being spat over the top. At least Phil assumed it was a fantasy. Given the people he was visiting he wasn’t so sure if they weren’t just recording their day-to-day life.
    The studio was in an old Victorian redbrick building in a run-down area of Aston, given over to the No Postcode Organisation, as it said on the front, a charity-funded community base. He and Sperring had shown their warrant cards on the way in, asked the young black man on the reception desk if Moses Heap was in the building. The young man had clearly had dealings with the police before and regarded them with suspicion if not downright hatred. He told them he would call through to the studio and see if Mr Heap was available.
    ‘No need for that, son,’ said Sperring. ‘We’ll go and see if he’s there ourselves. Wouldn’t want you spoiling the surprise.’
    He walked off down a corridor, Phil following. Phil wanted to take issue with his subordinate’s aggressive approach but he also wanted to see Moses Heap in his own surroundings. Gauge his responses from that.
    They walked through the building, the original green