“The bloke next door is really cut up,” a uniformed officer told him. “His wife was putting rubbish out in the bin when she spotted the intruder. Whoever it was had left the back door open. She got her husband to have a look inside. He wouldn’t let her go in. It’s really bad in there.”
“How far are we from Arnold Street?”
“Top of here, turn right, then it’s the second street along. No distance at all.”
“Have the people from the Duggan arrived?”
“A local GP confirmed death, not that there could have been any doubt, according to the neighbour. Doctor Barrington and her team arrived five minutes or so before you. They’re in there now.”
Greco inhaled deeply. He knew the scene inside the house was going to be bad. He heard someone call his name. It was Speedy. He appeared in the doorway, ashen-faced.
“It’s awful in there,” he said. “It’s like a bloody slaughterhouse. The neighbour two doors down has made some tea. I’ll get a mug if you don’t mind. Want some?”
Greco shook his head. “How old?”
“Young. Teens, I’d say.” Speedy’s voice quivered as he spoke.
“Everything’s very much as yesterday except that there’s a lot more blood,” Natasha Barrington told him when he went inside. “Stripped naked, strung up from a beam, speared through the heart with something hot. More of that awful cutting to the face and raped. The blood is everywhere, even up the walls. He pierced the aorta and it’s splattered everywhere.”
“Her name was Rosa Hudson,” Roxy Atkins said.
“Have the photos been taken?” Greco asked.
“He’s just started.”
The photographer briefly pulled the mask from his mouth and smiled.
“You met Mark at Arnold Street,” Roxy explained. “Mark Brough, one of our new crime scene investigators. If there’s anything you want to know and I’m not available, just ask him.”
“Get everything done as quickly as you can and take her down.”
Natasha looked at Greco’s face and nodded.
“She was very young. Pretty too,” Mark said.
“Expert, are you?” Greco said.
“No — but they both were, and blonde. There might be something in that.”
“You stick to what you do and leave the detective work to us,” Greco snapped.
“Look, this is no easier for us than it is for you,” said Mark. “She’s young, she’s pretty, it’s a damn waste. That’s all I meant.”
“Do we know anything other than her name?”
Roxy Atkins nodded. “We have her provisional driving licence.”
“We’ll take samples of everything, Stephen. But whoever he is, this guy is good,” Natasha said. “The forensic team went over the property in Arnold Street with a fine tooth comb and got nothing.”
“But he leaves their ID behind. He makes it easy for us to find the families. Why is that, do you think?”
“Rubbing it in? Wants to cause as much pain as he can? Who knows what goes on in the minds of such people, Stephen?”
“Does anyone know how she got here?”
“The neighbour thinks in a car. A dark coloured one, about midnight,” the uniformed officer said. “I’ve asked along the street, but apart from the screaming no one noticed anything.”
“How did he get in?”
“He must have had a key because there’s no sign of a break-in.”
“Like I said, much as before,” Natasha said.
Greco turned on his heel and went back outside. He’d seen enough. The look on the girl’s face had chilled him to the bone.
“Sir?” Roxy Atkins called out. “She has a stamp on her wrist from a club in town. Her clothing also suggests that’s where she’d been last night.”
“Any idea which one?”
“The Rave I’d say from the stamp. Her clothing was folded like the last one and a square of fabric is missing from her dress.”
So he was taking trophies. She was unlikely to have gone to the club alone. Someone might know who she left with. He went in search of Speedy.
“Who called you?” Greco asked Speedy.
“The station, at some ungodly hour this morning. By the time I got here, uniform had sorted the area and rung the Duggan.”
“Any ideas?”
“He’s a bloody nutjob. I reckon he stakes out the property first. He seems to use a certain type of house. He likes them old, needing work, and with a fireplace to heat that poker thing he uses.” Speedy tossed the remains of his tea into the gutter. “First he works all that out, then he goes on the hunt.”
“Very good. My thoughts too. That means this house was already set up prior to last night. It’s the getting in that’s puzzling me. There’s no break-in, so he has to have had a key. I can’t believe that no one saw or heard anything. He must have visited at some time before bringing the girl.”
“That estate agent needs another visit if you ask me. Slimy sod. He must know something. Both houses are on his books. Bit of a coincidence that.”
“Get the team down here and knock on every door. Do Arnold Street again, too. Speak to everyone. Make it a priority.”
“These people don’t say much, sir. The curtains twitch a lot. I’m sure some of them see more than they’ll admit to. But they don’t want dragging into any of this.”
“Keep at them. Sooner or later one of them will give us something. These girls didn’t live in the area. The latest girl would have stood out, all that blonde hair and being so young.”
“We’ve got visitors, sir.”
Greco looked at a red car that had pulled up a few yards away.
It was the press.
“Looks like you’ve got another one, Inspector,” a voice called out. “Got anything to say? Fancy giving us that press conference yet?”
“Laycock!” Speedy turned his back on the man. “Bloody pest.”
A uniformed officer went to have a word and moments later the reporter drove off.
“What’s the betting he’ll be back with cash in his hand the minute we’ve gone,” Speedy said. “I bet he gets some response from the greedy buggers on this street.”
“It’s still very early,” Greco said. “How come Laycock got to know so soon?”
“We could always drag him in and ask,” Speedy said. “I’d like to see that bastard squirm.”
“We might just do that. Are you going back to the station?”
“I’m nipping home first, get some breakfast. I’ll be back in about an hour with the team.”
Greco nodded. Speedy made for his car. Greco went back into the house. “What else did she have in her bag, apart from the licence?” he asked Roxy.
“Just some make-up and a few coins.”
“No phone?”
“No, and that’s odd given her age. You know what they’re like, these kids.”
“Let me take a photo of the licence. I’ll visit the address shortly and speak to the parents.”
“I don’t envy you that one,” Natasha said. “You must really hate that part of the job.”
Greco nodded. She had no idea how much.
“The PM will be later today, but she’ll need identifying officially first. Let me know when you’ve found her next of kin.”
The prospect of having to give some unsuspecting parents the dreadful news turned Greco’s stomach.
“Inspector!” It was Roxy Atkins. “There is what looks like the remains of a mobile phone in the fire embers. The plastic bits have melted, but we still might get something.”
“He must have thrown it in there. She could have called someone or sent a text. Get onto the service provider for the records, will you?”
Roxy nodded.
Greco decided that he’d go home before going to the station. He doubted that he could eat any breakfast. He wanted to clean up again, and to catch Suzy and Matilda before they left.
* * *
“More mayhem?” Suzy said.
“The
very worst. Don’t ask. The details are sickening.” He whispered this so his daughter wouldn’t hear.
“Why couldn’t you have gone into teaching, or social work or something, Stephen? I don’t think police work is doing you any good.”
“It’s the choice I made. I can’t do anything else.” This was an old argument and he didn’t want to have it now.
“You’re not coping. Your colleagues don’t see it, but I do. You need to think about it. Stress is a killer.”
He didn’t reply. Matilda was in her uniform, ready for school. He picked her up and spun her around. “Got anything exciting on today, Tillyflop?”
“I’ve got to write a story about Mortimer, then I have to read it out to the class,” she told him proudly. “He’s been really good and eaten all his breakfast.”
“We’ll have to leave,” Suzy said. “I’ll drop Matilda off and get into college early if you’re sure you can manage. This staff development is all about a college inspection so I’d better show my face.”
“I can take her if it helps,” Greco said.
“We have to take Mortimer too,” said Matilda.
“He can sit in the back with you.”
“Are you sure, Stephen? You look very edgy. Do you need some time before you go back to work?”
“No. It’s better if I just get on with things.”
“Look, why not shower and change and I’ll make some coffee. Half an hour won’t hurt. Matilda doesn’t have to be there until nine.”
There was no way he could hide anything from Suzy. She saw it all. “We are okay, aren’t we?” he said.
“Yes. Stop worrying.”
“Only, after yesterday I thought perhaps you wanted all this to stop.”
“No. I’m fine. But you are not easy to live with, are you? Work comes first, it always has. You can’t blame me, Stephen. It was work that got in the way the last time.”
“It’s what the job is. Crime doesn’t do nine to five.”
“But you could, if you did something else.”
So there it was. She wasn’t happy with him staying in the force. So why not just come out and say it? They would have to talk some more — but not now.
By the time Greco returned to the sitting room he was feeling better. Suzy was staring out of the window at a car parked across the road. He had a look. He wasn’t sure but it could be the press. What they hoped to gain by following him home he could only guess at.
“If that man in the car is press, this is harassment. Don’t speak to him — about anything,” he said. “They’re a menace, the whole lot of them. All they think about is getting a story they can sell to the nationals. Well, the crimes we’re dealing with are certainly big enough.”
“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He could be anyone. This is really getting to you, isn’t it?”
“We’ve got a messy one on our hands,” he said. “The press aren’t helping. We can’t give them too much because it would jeopardise the case when it comes to court. But they never stop. I don’t know how they get wind of half the stuff. We’re dealing with the locals at the moment — the Herald mostly. But the nationals could get hold of it. The case will turn into a circus if they do.”
“You need to relax more.”
“When this is over. I’ll probably be late home tonight,” he said.
Her face fell.
“You’re not yet forty,” she said. “I know you’re good at it, but I also know how badly it affects you. I’ve seen how much you put into the job, how obsessed you get. But you should be enjoying life. It worries me that all you do is work and fret.”
“I’m okay. Really,” he said. But he could tell from her face that she didn’t believe it. “Murdered girls . . . what am I supposed to do? The details are too terrible to tell you. The crime scenes are like something out of a bad horror film. Someone is really going to town, Suzy, and he needs to be caught.”
“Okay. I’ll keep something hot. Perhaps we can go out at the weekend. I can organise a babysitter. All you have to do is say yes.”
“Go ahead. We’ll have a meal at that place you like, by the river,” he said. “Come on then, Tillyflop. I’ll carry Mortimer to the car.”
* * *
The Hudsons lived on a leafy avenue in an area between Oldston and Leesworth. As he pulled up, a silver hatchback was about to drive away. Greco got out and waved for the car to stop. The occupant was a woman in her forties.
“Mrs Hudson?”
She nodded. “What is it? You’re blocking my way.”
“Can I have a word? Inside perhaps? Is there anyone else at home?”
“What is this? Who are you?”
Greco showed her his badge.
“My husband is in, but Rosa is still in bed I’m afraid.”
Greco stared at the woman. “Are you sure? Have you looked in on her this morning?”
“Yes, of course I have. I’ve even been in with a mug of coffee, but she was snoring her head off. Inspector, has she done something? She’s not in trouble, is she?”
The dead girl had had Rosa’s driving licence with her.
“Is this hers? Are you sure the girl in the photo is your daughter?” He showed her the mobile phone picture he’d taken of the document.
“Yes, that’s my Rosa. She’s having lessons. Is that what this is about?”
“No. It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. I need to speak to her at once.”
“Come inside and I’ll get her up. Whatever this is, I’m sure she’ll have an explanation. She always does.”
The house was warm and comfortably furnished. There was a view of Oldston Park through French doors at the back.
“Sit down,” Mr Hudson told him. He was sitting on the sofa reading the morning paper. “There’s still hot coffee in the pot if you’d like some.”
Greco shook his head.
“What’s she been up to now? It’s not her driving again, is it? She’s having lessons, but Rosa doesn’t seem to get any better.”
He heard someone thumping their way down the stairs.
A teenage girl walked into the room.
“Where did you find it? I told her not to let it out of her sight. She knows how important it is.”
Rosa Hudson looked about the same age as the murder victim. She had long fair hair and was swathed in a fleecy dressing gown.
“Okay. I’ll fess up,” she said to Greco. “I lent it to Jenna yesterday at school. She needed ID to get into the club. She isn’t eighteen yet.” She wrinkled her face. “I’m not in trouble, am I? For doing that? It’s no biggy. Everybody does it.”
“Jenna who?”
“Jenna Proctor. Why, what’s she done?”
But the girl wasn’t paying attention. She walked over to the French doors and waved to someone in the park.
“Charlie’s waiting for me. I’d better get ready.”
“Do you have Jenna’s address?”
“She won’t be up yet,” Rosa said. “She’ll still be wasted from last night.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Jenna is dead,” Greco said. “I need to see her parents as quickly as possible.”
The girl took hold of her mother’s arm. “Did she have an accident? She didn’t take something at the club? I’m always warning her about that. You can get hold of anything there. Some of it is lethal. Is that what happened?”
Greco caught the father’s eye.
“Tell us what happened. The two of them were close friends,” said Mr Hudson.
“Jenna was murdered,” Greco said. “Since she had your ID, I take it you weren’t with her last night?”
The girl shook her head. “I work part-time and I couldn’t get the night off.”
“Do you know who she went out with?”
“A whole bunch of them were going to the Rave club in town. There will have been loads. You should ask at school, the sixth form.” She thought for a moment. “I think Jack was picking her up. He’s soft on her.”
“Yes.”
“And do you know where he lives?”
“He lives two houses up from Jenna. Their road isn’t far from here.”
Rosa’s dad had already written down the address. “Go back to the main road, then take the second left. The Proctor house is the detached stone one.”
Chapter 7
“Grace, you take Archibald Street with Craig and I’ll do this one with a couple of PCs,” Speedy told Grace.
They were stood on Arnold Street, ready to knock on doors. Speedy groaned. He looked furious.
“Every door, this time. We need to speak to as many of the residents as possible,” he said.
“You need to cheer up,” Craig said. “No one’s going to talk to a face like that. And while I’m at it, you should try to get on better with the boss too.”
“Save it, Merrick. Right now I’m too bloody mad. This bastard is running rings around us. I’m only sticking with the job because he needs catching, it’s that simple. He’s got to get his and quick.” Speedy began hammering loudly on the first door. No answer. He banged again.
“How are you doing?” Grace held out a flask to him.
“It’s a waste of time. We won't get anything from this lot. When they do answer the bloody door, they wind me up. Questions, that's all I get. They’re fishing for info to sell, and sod what’s happened to those poor girls. Wait until I see that bloody Laycock. What about you?”
“Nothing that we don’t know already. The people who live on Archibald Street are like those monkeys — see nothing, hear nothing and the other one.” She smiled. “Coffee? Warm you up.”
“What have you done with Craig?”
“Ernest Talbot’s bending his ear. He’s an old windbag. Just keeps going on about the press and how we should get them on our side.”
“I’m going back to the station,” Speedy said. “I’ve had enough.”
“You can’t do that. Greco will expect some results. What’s wrong, Speedy? You’re a right misery these days.”
“The truth is, I’ve had it. With this town, with the people in it, but most of all with this bloody job.”
DARK HOUSES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense Page 6