Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set

by Helen H. Durrant

  “No, I’m fine with it.” Another lie, but he could hardly tell her the truth. He knew that Grace was looking forward to the new arrival. When they were alone together, she talked of little else. As for him, his life was full enough as it was. Greco had a job that took up most of his time, and then some. He was a single dad to a daughter who needed every spare minute he had. Throw into the mix an infant, and he had a recipe for domestic disaster. His Aunt Pat would help. No doubt she’d be delighted when they told her. But Pat was in her late fifties. She got exhausted enough running after Matilda all day long. Plus there were the implications for his work. A member of his team was pregnant with his child. Once Superintendent McCabe found out, it might mean trouble for his job. It wouldn’t be so bad if he and Grace were a couple, and people thought of them as such. But they weren’t, not really. The last thing Greco wanted right now was flak from his colleagues.

  “You’re doing my head in, d’you know that?” she said.

  Greco coughed. People around them were looking. Grace was not afraid to show her irritation with him.

  “You just sit there and say nowt.” She punched his arm to get his attention. “Sorry if this baby is going to bugger up your orderly little world, Stephen, but that’s the way it is. We talked about this. You promised it would be fine. You said you’d participate, contribute time and energy to both the pregnancy and raising our child. But you didn’t mean a bloody word of it, did you? Me, the babe, we’re nothing but a huge fly in the ointment. Well, you’d better come to terms with how things are pretty damn quick. Within months, this child will be born. It will have needs, and both of us will have to shape up. A combined effort, Stephen, that’s what you promised.”

  A woman sitting opposite them was smirking. She’d heard the lot. Greco had rarely felt so embarrassed. “It’s not you or the baby,” he lied, “I’ve just been to a heavy meeting at central.”

  “Well, you’re not at central now.” Grace took hold of his arm. “You’re here with me. We are going to glimpse our baby for the first time. Doesn’t that mean anything? Aren’t you just a little bit excited, Stephen?”

  “Of course, I am.” Another lie. And she spotted it. Grace turned away from him in disgust. Just at that moment, the nurse called her name.

  “This is us,” she said nervously. “Please try to smile.”

  * * *

  Speedy and Joel pulled up on the concrete expanse in front of the four tower blocks that made up the Lansdowne Estate.

  “Vinny Holt’s last address was Argo House over there. Mind you, that was over twelve months ago,” Joel said.

  “What floor?” Speedy asked. “Only I know for a fact that the lift’s out more often than not.”

  “Ground floor. His mother’s in a wheelchair,” Joel told him.

  The two detectives made their way across the rutted concrete ground. A group of kids eyed them with suspicion. Speedy turned up his overcoat collar against the biting wind. This was a desolate place even in the summer. On a bleak day in early January, it was hell. He stuffed his hands into his coat pocket. His fingers were so cold they’d gone numb.

  They were surrounded by tall, featureless blocks. For as far as you could see there was nothing but concrete underfoot. There was not a tree or a patch of grass anywhere. But there was plenty of litter blowing about. No bins — too handy for drug drops, or for setting off fireworks in.

  “Keep a beady on the car,” said Speedy. “That lot look as if they’ve hit the jackpot.” He nodded at a group of kids standing by the entrance. “They could have it stripped and the parts sold in a heartbeat.”

  DC Joel Hough stood by the entrance to the block, watching the car across the square, while a few metres away, Speedy banged on the door of the Holt address. A man answered. He looked about forty, rough, and had a fag hanging out of his mouth.

  “That was bloody quick. I’ve only just rung the station. Have you found our kid yet? She’s going off her head with worry.”

  “Found who?” Speedy asked.

  The man looked the detective up and down. “The lad. Our Vinny. He went out last night and we haven’t seen ’im since. He’s not the perfect lad, but he always comes home. I rang his mate Craig. Can’t find him either. Wouldn’t normally bother. Chances are they’ve dossed down somewhere. But she’s a worrier. Best keep her happy, eh?”

  “Who are you?” Speedy asked.

  “Dave Holt, Vinny’s big brother. I’m having to stay with her.” He nodded back through the door. “In a right state, Mum is.”

  The kids who had been lurking at the entrance had gone so Joel joined them. “When exactly did you last see Vinny?” he asked.

  “Last night, about five. He came here, Craig in tow, and said they were going to get tea from the chippy. When he didn’t come back I thought they must have gone for a game of pool.”

  “Is that usual for him?”

  “No, he always comes home. Too fond of his own bed.”

  “Did you have an argument with him? Was he okay when he left?”

  “We didn’t row, and he was fine. Dead happy in fact. He bunged mum fifty quid too. Said he’d had a win on the dogs.”

  “Where does he hang out?”

  “The Grapes, and he plays pool down the community centre.”

  Speedy had a bad feeling. The photo of the house. The drugs. The lads could have stumbled into something they couldn’t handle. “Do you have a recent photo of him?” Speedy asked. “We’ll get it circulated.”

  “Wait ’ere, I’ll get one. Don’t want her upsetting all over again.” He disappeared inside.

  “So where are they?” Joel asked.

  “We’ll have a word with Craig’s family next,” Speedy said. “You never know, Vinny might be there. Had a skinful and dossed down for the night.”

  A woman was walking towards them. “Is he here?” she shouted. “Only our Craig hasn’t come home. Silly bugger’s got a job interview this afternoon too.”

  “No, he isn’t.” Speedy assumed she meant Craig Riley. “And neither is Vinny. The two of them seem to have done one. Who are you?”

  “Craig’s mother. I’ll kill him if he misses the chance of work. Cock this up and he’ll not get back in the house. Bloody hard going, he is. I’ve got two of ’em, couldn’t be more different. Our Callum’s a right good lad, but Craig . . . more trouble than he’s worth at times. Bad tempered. Got a short fuse.”

  “When did you see him last?”

  “Late on yesterday afternoon. Him and Vinny were coming here, then going off somewhere together.”

  Dave Holt reappeared with a photo. “This is the pair of them. Taken about a month ago on Mum’s birthday.”

  “Okay, we’ll get onto it straight away. But if either of them turns up, ring us at once.” Speedy handed cards to Dave Holt and Craig’s mother.

  Chapter 4

  Greco looked at the image from different angles. The grey outline was barely visible. A baby? It didn’t look like one yet.

  Grace took it from him. “I’ll get you a copy of your own. Something else for your little folder.” She grinned. “I wonder who it will look like? Boy or girl, it is bound to have blond hair. If it’s a boy, I hope he has your looks.”

  Greco ignored this. “Are you coming to work?”

  “Yes, but I’m in my own car so we needn’t arrive together.” She kissed his cheek. “Try and be happy about the little one, Stephen. It will make life much easier.”

  Greco watched her walk off down the corridor. Grace had no idea what a hard ask that was. She was thrilled about the baby. He’d seen her face when the image first came up on the screen. Then, when they’d heard the baby’s heart beating, she had tears in her eyes. Why didn’t he feel like that? Because it was all wrong, that was why.

  Perhaps if their relationship had been less one-sided? Grace had made no secret of the fact that she liked him and had made all the running. After Brighton, when she’d told him about the baby, he’d taken her out a couple of times. Grace
had loved that, but he hadn’t been so keen. He’d done it because he felt he should, and not from any real desire. Grace was a friend, a good detective and someone he trusted. But did he want her for his wife? Being the man he was, Greco knew he’d have to consider it. She was having his child. He could not watch her struggle through it alone. Plus, marrying Grace would solve the problem of the infant, and consolidate the two families. His daughter, Matilda, and Holly, Grace’s daughter, would love it. They were the same age, went to the same school and were best friends.

  His mobile rang. It was Speedy.

  “We’ve got two missing teenage lads, guv. Both eighteen, both live on the Lansdowne. That photo we got this morning could be significant. I forwarded it to your mobile earlier. The one which showed what looked like a stash of drugs in a fridge. It came with an address. The lad who sent it to us and his mate haven’t been seen since yesterday teatime. Joel and I are about to go to the house. It’s a posh job in Cheshire, Handforth way. D’you want to meet us there?”

  Greco thought for a moment. He’d glanced at the image and the text, but then thought no more of it, wanting to get the scan sorted before he turned his mind to anything else. Speedy and Joel were more than capable of speaking to whoever lived at that address themselves. On the other hand, it did mean he could avoid the station and Grace for a little longer. “I’m in Oldston, so give me half an hour or so to get there. But don’t start without me.”

  Greco could only guess what it all meant. If the motive for being in the house was robbery, then the lads could have taken off somewhere on the proceeds. Then again, with drugs involved, perhaps they’d bitten off more than they could chew.

  Greco left Oldston and made for the M60. Once Greater Manchester was left behind, the view became more pleasant, with fields instead of row upon row of old terraced houses, industrial estates and shops. Away from the dual carriageway there were villages and open views. Given its relative proximity to his job in town, Greco began to wonder why he wasn’t living out here. If he decided to make a go of it with Grace, a place like one of these would make a perfect home for the children.

  It was a large detached property on a well-spaced-out development of a dozen similar houses. The owner obviously had money and didn’t mind spending it.

  Speedy and Joel Hough were waiting in their car outside the house.

  “There is someone in, guv,” Speedy said. “I’ve seen movement through the window.”

  “Okay, let’s get this done with.” Greco strode up the path with the other two following behind. He pressed the bell and waited. Speedy fumbled in his overcoat pocket for the photo.

  The woman who answered the door was tall and blonde. Immaculate in a dark suit with a knee-length skirt. Her expression was stony.

  “What do you want?”

  Greco was staring. He couldn’t help it. He was taken completely by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t someone like this. She was perfect, quite flawless. His height in her high heels, and slim, she was about as far from a drug dealer as he could imagine.

  She met his stare with cool brown eyes. Eyes that made him nervous. He coughed. “DCI Greco. This is DS Quickenden and DC Hough. We’re from the serious crime squad in Manchester.”

  For several seconds she stood in silence. She didn’t even blink. Finally, she said, “I’m Ava Whitton.”

  “Can we come in?” Greco asked. “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “What — all of you? You want to trample through my home after being out in that filthy weather?”

  It was late January and sleeting. Greco looked down at his feet. “We can take off our shoes if it’ll make you feel better.”

  He could hear Speedy muttering behind him. But Greco wasn’t bothered. Given his own hang-ups, he understood the woman’s concerns. He looked along the elegant hallway to the plush, cream carpet. With their dirty, wet, feet the three of them would ruin it in seconds.

  “Leave your shoes there.” She pointed to the mat by the door. “I do not have long. I need to get back to work.”

  Without a word, Greco followed her along the hall. Her clothes were expensive, and there wasn’t a hair out of place on her beautiful head. Right then, he would have happily done anything she asked. This was a new one for him. The only other woman who’d affected him this way had been Suzy. When they first met, he’d been so nervous he’d stammered.

  “What is it you do?” Greco asked her.

  “I am the transport manager for a logistics firm in town — Greysons.”

  They entered the sitting room, decorated tastefully in cream and gold. The place was as perfect as she was. There wasn’t a speck of dust, and nothing was out of place. He could live here with no effort at all. Every cushion was plumped, each surface gleaming and pristine. This was a woman he could understand, and who would understand him too.

  “Lovely home, you have.”

  “I know,” she said matter-of-factly, and turned and regarded the three men. “So, what can I do for you?”

  Speedy thrust the picture at her. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Greco watched her eyes. Not a flicker.

  “No. What am I supposed to see? What do those packets contain?”

  “Drugs of some sort, possibly,” Speedy said. “The message that accompanied it said the photo had been taken in this house.”

  “Here? In my home? Are you mad?” Ava Whitton said.

  “Have you had a break-in during the past day or so?” Speedy asked.

  “No. I would have called the police if I had”

  “We are acting on information given to us. We know who took that picture, and we suspect they were here to rob you,” Greco said.

  “You are mistaken. There is nothing missing. Neither is there any sign of a robbery. If you look at that image closely you’ll spot that it shows nothing of the surroundings. It could have been taken anywhere.”

  Greco said nothing, mesmerised by the sound of her voice. He thought her accent sounded vaguely foreign.

  Ava Whitton’s hands were on her hips. “This is ridiculous. Who do you think I am?” She sighed. “Come with me.”

  They followed her without demur from the sitting room, through a spotless ultra-modern kitchen and into a room off at the side.

  “This is the utility room where I keep my fridge and freezer. Look for yourself.”

  Greco pulled open the door.

  “You may examine it all you want, but there is nothing in it but food. That’s all.”

  She was right. A bog-standard fridge with the usual contents. “We’re sorry to have troubled you. We have to investigate. I hope you understand,” Greco said.

  “You’ve had a wasted journey. For whatever reason, someone is obviously having a joke at your expense.”

  “Do you have a security camera, Ms Whitton?”

  “No,” she replied sharply.

  They followed her back the way they had come. Passing through the sitting room, Joel Hough stopped to look out of the window. He put his hands on a glass table-top to steady himself. “Lovely view you have here. You can see the hills in the distance.”

  “Get your hands off that! The glass marks easily.” Ava Whitton took a handkerchief from her pocket and rubbed the surface vigorously.

  “She’s a bloody neat freak like him,” Speedy whispered in Joel’s ear.

  Chapter 5

  Day 2

  Between Openshaw Road — where the serious crime squad was based — and the M60, there was a network of streets of old terraced houses. Between each row were small passageways, called ginnels. These narrow passageways were all interconnected. It was in one of these that the bodies were found dumped next to a skip. Both bodies were a ravaged, beaten mess.

  A resident had called it in. He had been dumping rubbish in a skip when he spotted them. The sight was ghastly. He described the way they looked ‘as if they’d been got at by a bunch of wild animals.’ A uniformed PC swiftly arriv
ed. He put up a tent, taped off the immediate area, and waited in a squad car for the circus to begin.

  It didn’t take long. A team from the Duggan, headed by Dr Bob Bowers, the pathologist, and Roxy Atkins, the forensic scientist, was next to turn up. Within minutes of their arrival, Greco and Speedy were at the scene.

  “Unrecognisable, guv.” The colour had drained from Speedy’s face. “That poor bugger is missing an eye, and the rest of his face has been mutilated. Hit with something hard it looks like. Broke all the bones — jaw and cheek. The other one has been slashed open from ear to ear.”

  Greco said nothing.

  “The victims Craig Riley and Vinny Holt,” Roxy told them. “Well, they are at present. We’ll need to confirm that. Both are naked, and given the extent of the mutilation it is difficult to tell. But the killer was thoughtful enough to write their names across their chests in felt tip.”

  Greco could only marvel at her even, matter-of-fact tone. Though he might not be showing it, he was a long way from feeling matter of fact right now.

  “What has happened to their hands?” he said.

  Bob Bowers looked up at him. “Their fingers are missing, Stephen. At first glance it looks like they’ve been tortured.” That was stating the obvious. “However, there is very little blood around the wounds.”

  “This is where they were dumped. The kill site will be where the blood is,” Greco said.

  “And they have been set alight,” Speedy added.

  “Nonetheless, I’ll reserve judgement until the PM. If it was torture, then it was protracted and vicious. If it wasn’t — why bother mutilating corpses?”

  “What’s that?” Speedy pointed to a plastic bag containing what looked like something unnameable from the butchers.

  “Don’t touch — and I wouldn’t look too closely either,” said Roxy. “It’s not been photographed yet.” She took a deep breath. “I suspect it contains body parts of the victims.”

  Speedy’s face contorted in horror.

  * * *

  Back at the Serious Crime Unit on Gorton Road, Greco assembled the team for a briefing.