Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set

by Helen H. Durrant

  “He was a lot less impressed when Geegee came up with that alibi.” Merrick pulled a face. “Left it to the death he did, then yanked Darren Hopper out of the bag. The boss let him stew in the cells for the night and left word to let him out this morning.”

  Quickenden said nothing. He sat at his desk and accessed the local news on his computer. He could only hope that yesterday’s actions didn’t come back to haunt him. He’d provided a false witness for a known criminal. If it got out then his career was goosed. “Shopping mall is still closed. They’re saying it’s a bomb threat,” he told the others.

  Now he had their attention, talk of Grady Gibbs was replaced by something much more interesting. “Apparently there was an anonymous message sent to the papers this morning.”

  “It’ll be a hoax. Kids chancing their arm,” Merrick said.

  “Stupid thing to do in the current climate,” Grace replied.

  “Don’t think it’s a hoax; they’ve blocked off some of the M62 now. Looks like the real deal to me.”

  * * *

  Greco arrived later than usual, but no one noticed apart from Grace.

  “Got Matilda sorted with my mum, sir?” she asked, giving him a big smile.

  “Yes. Thanks for that. She likes your Holly, kept on about her all last night.” He smiled back at her.

  “Have you caught the news, sir?” George asked. “Bomb scare I think.”

  He looked at the computer screen she was watching. “Turn the sound up, please.”

  It looked as if DCI Green’s information had some truth in it. A grim thought, and he still hadn’t briefed the team either.

  “We should keep an eye on that. Right, get a cup of coffee, then the meeting room in ten minutes.”

  He knew what they’d be thinking. More meetings, and what had they got? A big fat nothing. Currently every lead led to a dead end and they were no closer than they’d been on Monday morning.

  Greco left them to it and walked along the corridor to the DCI’s office.

  “You’ve seen it, then.”

  “Being so local, serious crime is going with the Oldston call. I’ve only been told very recently but messages have been floating around the dark net for weeks. Damn near impossible to trace but the clever people in computer forensics say they definitely originated around here.”

  “How did word about the shopping mall get out?”

  “We were given a warning, simple as that.”

  “That’s not how it’s worked in recent times, sir. How did we get this warning?”

  Three years ago, Greco had been seconded to the Met for a short while. He’d worked with a team set up to disrupt terrorist plots. It had been a hard slog because there was never anything concrete. Mostly it was about keeping an eye on the Muslim youth and who was talking to them. But never once in that time had they received any warnings and that wasn’t because there were no plots. It was just that the public were not always made aware of them.

  “An email sent to Manchester Central.”

  “I know we can’t take the risk, but it sounds like a hoax.”

  “You’re right, we can’t take the risk. If you haven’t done so already, then brief your team. At least one of them finds his way into some dodgy corners of this town.”

  Greco didn’t reply; he knew the DCI meant Quickenden. He’d speak to the sergeant himself at the first opportunity.

  “I want progress, Stephen,” he said with a deep sigh as he changed the subject. “This murder business is going nowhere, according to the report you emailed me this morning.”

  Greco saw the confusion on the DCI’s face.

  “Do you never sleep, Stephen? It isn’t that I don’t appreciate being kept up to date with every step of your investigations but it isn’t necessary, particularly when you’re still stuck on square one.”

  “It’s how I’ve always worked, sir.”

  * * *

  “What you doing in here, kid? Thought we agreed it’s better not to be seen together in public.” Geegee aimed the words at the young man who’d just come in to the Spinners and sat down opposite him

  “I heard the police dragged you in, and don’t call me kid,” he complained. “Thought I’d better check that you kept your mouth shut,” he whispered back.

  There was a time when Geegee would never have stood for cheek like that from anyone but he had developed an unfamiliar respect for this lad. He had ideas, good ones, and he was proving to be a big help.

  He stuck a pint in front of Geegee.

  “No worries, they had to let me go this morning. They’re racing around chasing their tails. Anyway, I’ve got an ace in the hole.” He tapped his nose and coughed.

  “You’ve done what we agreed?”

  “Yep, it’s all lined up. By tomorrow night we’ll have a clear path.” He looked at the boy. “You’ve got things sorted your end? I don’t understand what you’ve done but you’re sure it’ll work?”

  “I’m good,” he smirked. “Far better than people around here give me credit for. You’re the brawn, Mr Gibbs, the man with the shady contacts, but I’m the brains. I’ll have the authorities run ragged wondering what the hell’s going on. All we have to do is sit back, watch, and then pick up the pieces — the very lucrative pieces.”

  “I’m not going to cross you, lad, but I still don’t get it. Why would a posh boy like you want to get mixed up with a criminal? You’re not having a laugh are you?”

  “No I’m not; I’m deadly serious. Surely, I’ve proved that by now?”

  “That’s as may be, but it’s not normal. People like you don’t get mixed up with the likes of me. They don’t deal drugs and they don’t drink in places like this. Anyway, you can’t need the money.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve got plans and I need as much as I can get my hands on. Where I’m working at the moment certainly doesn’t pay enough.”

  Geegee laughed again. “You telling me you’re short of money, posh boy?” he taunted. “Not getting enough spends?”

  “Don’t say things like that,” came the angry retort. “You wouldn’t laugh if you knew the truth,” he said with spite. “The job’s a real drag. They’ve got me scrubbing bloody vehicles. Scrubbing and greasing, that’s all I do all day.”

  “You really are hard done by, aren’t you, lad? But it’s only a stopgap, I’ll bet. Some sort of work experience. Soon you’ll have a proper job, buy your own house and own some posh car. You’re bound to, a lad like you who went to a private school and university.”

  “Just as well I did those things, because that’s what makes me so useful now. And you’d do well to keep that in mind, Mr Gibbs. If this is to work then we need each other, never forget that.”

  It sounded like a threat. Geegee looked hard at the lad. “Don’t try turning the screws on with me, because you’ll come off worst.”

  The young man narrowed his eyes. He looked about to explode.

  Geegee realised he’d pushed the wrong button and he’d better watch out. Time to smooth things over. “Look, let’s just get the next couple of days done with and go from there. We’re both strung out — so much going on.” He needed the boy to calm down.

  “Like I’ve said, it’ll be okay, nothing can go wrong. The dry run is organised my end. Yours?”

  “Everything’s set up according to plan,” Geegee confirmed.

  “This is the first step. After this weekend, all the drugs around here will be supplied by us.” His eyes widened. “We’re set to make a fortune. We’ll have all the power, we’ll run the streets. We’ll have the money to do whatever we want.”

  “A guaranteed supply, cheap from the continent, that still what we’re aiming for?” Geegee asked.

  “That’s what I promised.”

  The lad had done his homework. Geegee could never get his hands on enough, and folk always wanted what he hadn’t got. The Hussains had it all sewn up. Currently they were the outfit with the guaranteed supply, theirs came in with the tobacco.
What he’d give for an operation like that!

  “And it’ll work like you said?” He looked at the lad. He appeared keen enough but he was young; he might be bright but he was inexperienced. What could he possibly know about the drug-dealing business? “You’d bring it in on those coaches of Webb’s?”

  “Yes, piece of cake. The coaches are never checked. This dry run will prove everything I’ve told you. For example, there’s a run to Amsterdam weekly, and I could get you anything you want and cheap too. You’ll wipe the floor with the Hussains. There’s no way they’ll be able to compete.”

  The boy must have read his mind.

  “And we split down the middle, fifty-fifty?”

  “That’s what we agreed. In a short time I want us to run the whole drugs thing in this town and beyond. The Hussains will be history.”

  A common bond.

  “All we have to do is follow the plan. Everyone does as they’re told and it can’t fail. We’ve gone over everything.”

  Geegee nodded. “Okay, but we shouldn’t be seen together until after it’s done — could cause talk. Once we know it’s gone okay, then it won’t matter.”

  The lad agreed. “I’ll be round your flat later to finish up, so make sure you’re alone. I’ll need to set things up on the laptop.”

  * * *

  “We still need to know why Reader ran. Have we heard from the ports?”

  “No, sir, but they have his photo, the recent one, the one we took here when we brought him in,” George reported.

  “Brenda Hirst’s watch has gone to the Duggan Centre,” Greco told them. “There may still be traces of DNA on it apart from the three we know about. Professor Batho says it will take a while but it could yield some useful information.”

  Greco stood by the incident board in front of the team. “Rose Donnelly lived at Alderley House on Link Road. Finding her is now of prime importance.”

  He could almost see the team groan. He knew what they’d be thinking. That as far as anyone knew she was merely missing and that could be because she’d simply gone on holiday.

  “Despite what you all may think, Rose is involved. We know that her phone was used for that last call but there’s still no sign of it. We need that phone. It will harbour valuable DNA too. It might be worthwhile searching the canal bank again just to make sure. After all, that’s where Gibbs says he found the other things.”

  “I’ll ask uniform to organise it,” Grace volunteered.

  He nodded. “I don’t hold out much hope. There was something not quite right about yesterday.” Greco looked straight at Quickenden. “Gibbs should have told us about his alibi straight away but he didn’t.” He paused. “It was as if he needed time to organise something.” He could almost see his sergeant wriggle with discomfort. Something had gone on there, something that could jeopardise the case? He hoped not.

  As he spoke, Greco made notes on the board; the latest timeline. He wrote in a neat script, carefully placing one note directly under the other. “I want that pub watching too, and Gibbs in particular.”

  “Do you want me to see to that, sir?”

  Greco didn’t reply, he’d got marker pen on his fingers and was staring at it. The ink was black — he’d have to go and scrub it off at the earliest opportunity.

  “You mean given that you’re always there anyway, Sergeant?”

  Quickenden hung his head. “They wouldn’t think it odd, me being there, would they?”

  “Anything, and I mean anything suspicious and you report back,” Greco replied firmly. “We’ll also hassle the port, and keep the search for Reader on its toes and we don’t drop our guard. Rose is out there somewhere and I want her found.”

  “We have no evidence that she’s not just gone away, sir.”

  “Not as such, but I doubt that’s the case.” He looked at Merrick. “The state of her home, the fact her phone is dead, neither of those gives me any confidence that she’ll simply turn up with a suntan.” He paused for a moment.

  “Grace and Craig, try to trace her movements over the weekend. Who saw her, who visited the house, who she spoke to. You never know, someone may recall something. Grace, find out if she used social media.”

  “A fingertip search of her house might yield something,” Quickenden suggested.

  “It may come to that yet,” Greco agreed. “Now for something totally unrelated.” He inhaled deeply. “The bomb scare in Manchester this morning may be the work of a terrorist cell working from here in Oldston.”

  He fell silent as a barrage of questions hit him.

  “You’re joking!” Grace looked genuinely shocked.

  “We don’t know if there’s anything in it. But in any event the case isn’t ours; it’s firmly in the hands of the counterterrorism unit. However, if during the course of any investigation we’re involved in we get wind of anything, then we must let the DCI know. Everybody got that?”

  The moment the briefing was over, Greco hurried down the corridor to the gents. He spent the following ten minutes with a nail brush and soap until every last trace of ink was gone.

  Chapter 14

  “It’s work, Stace, and easy too,” Daz bragged to the young woman. “I’ll only be gone for the day, so no biggie. Me and Tan have already got fifty each upfront.” He reached in his pocket. “Here.” He smiled, fanning out the ten pound notes for her to see. “And there’s more when we’ve done — easy, like I said.”

  He watched her reach out, biting her lip as she stroked her fingers across the notes. He knew they really needed it— she’d had threats from the gas people and there was no food in the house.

  “Is this something you’re doing for Kashif, Tan’s brother?”

  Daz nodded. It’d do no harm to keep the truth from her. He daren’t tell her about Geegee.

  “You sure, Daz? Cos I don’t want you mixing with that toerag Geegee.”

  “I’ve not even seen him in days,” he lied.

  “And it’s nothing to do with that copper coming here and that statement thing you had to give?”

  “No, Stace, I told you that was about some property I found by the canal. The watch is valuable and there might be a reward,” he lied again, “police just wanted the details, that’s all.”

  “So what’s it you’re doing for Kashif?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “Is it the ciggie run? Is that what you’re getting into?”

  “Why? What if it is?”

  “Because Kashif’s trouble, that’s why. Sooner or later he’ll get caught and he’ll drop you right in it.”

  “That’s just fucking stupid. Kashif’s too careful. He’s got his back well and truly covered. Anyway he wouldn’t let Tan do anything dangerous, would he?”

  “Whether Tan’s in or not, I still don’t like it.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it, Daz; you shouldn’t get mixed up in all that. They could get you into all sorts of trouble. You don’t want to go back inside. Cos if you get banged up again, then I’m gone,” she told him firmly. “And Ben will be gone too,” she added, indicating the pushchair in which his two-year-old lay sleeping.

  “It’s easy money, Stace. A trip to the docks then back to Naz’s shop. We’ll be fine.” If she found out the truth then she’d kill him.

  Stacey sighed and started to fold the washing that had been drying on the clothes airer. “So who’s going to drive? Not you; you haven’t got a licence. Remember?”

  Daz shrugged, pulling a face. He’d no idea what to tell her. “I’ll sort it,” he replied, irritated by her attitude. “Tan will borrow a car off one of his family.”

  “Well, that’s not sorting it because Tan’s got no licence either,” she snapped at him. “You’ve got today to get things organised, so do it. You really don’t think these things through, do you, thicko!”

  His mobile rang — it was Tan.

  “Hey, bro, all set for tomorrow are we?”

  “Ask him about the car,” Stace insisted.

  He wandere
d out through the door and into the hallway where she couldn’t hear him. “Stace is giving me grief about the job, so not a word,” he warned him. “She mustn’t know the truth about what we’re doing. If she asks we’re doing a ciggy run for Kashif and you are getting us a car.” He heard his mate grunt a reply. “How about you? We’ve got to be at the bus station for nine in the morning.”

  “Yeah — Kashif don’t want me till later so no worries.”

  “Okay — see you at the stop, and don’t be late.”

  With a bit of luck this could work and Stace need never know the truth.

  “So — the driving organised or what?” Stace began to speak the moment he entered the living room.

  “Look, this is my first time so I have to go easy. I can’t lay down the law. Kashif’s sending someone with us to drive,” he told her at last. “You mustn’t say anything about this, Stace, about me doing the ciggy run, and particularly not to that gobby mother of yours, understand?”

  * * *

  Greco was sitting at his desk mulling over the statements yet again. He read each one carefully, making notes in his book. “Webb’s workshop isn’t on the industrial estate, the one near the canal, but it’s only a couple of hundred yards away,” he said, looking up. “Craig, you took this statement from one of the staff at Webb’s office. It’s important; you should have flagged it.”

  “Sorry, sir, I didn’t realise.”

  “Anything we find could hold the key to this,” Greco explained. “We’ve got dozens of statements. We should view them as pieces in a jigsaw. We’re looking for how Brenda Hirst got the oil under her fingernails.” He shook his head. “It occurs to me that Webb’s workshop might be a possibility.”

  “Do you want me to take a look?” Craig asked. “It wouldn’t take long. I’ll get an oil sample and pop it along to the Duggan.”

  “No. Ask a uniformed officer to go instead,” Greco decided.

  He sighed, rearranging the pens on his desk yet again. He’d have to look through all the statements once more just to be sure. Where one thing had been overlooked there was bound to be something else.

  “Call for you, sir,” George interrupted, “from downstairs.”