DARK TRADE a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  “There’s no way they’d let him in there, dressed like he was,” Speedy told them. “It’s been done up. Fancies itself upmarket these days. God knows why, given where it is.”

  Grace went off to her desk to use the phone. Leah Wells was behaving like his bloody shadow, constantly at Greco’s back.

  “I’ll start with the charity shops. It’ll have to be tomorrow. They’ll be shut by now,” Leah told the team.

  A job she could do on her own, Grace hoped. A short conversation later and Grace had the information she needed. “Sir!” she called. “Looks like it could be the Millstone. They did an evening buffet for the Rashid Clinic yesterday. It’s a private clinic in Chorlton.”

  Greco looked at Joel Hough. “Do we have anything on the place?”

  “Nothing on the system, sir. Give me a moment, I’ll look it up on the net.” Greco waited, tapping his foot on the floor.

  Joel soon found it. “Wealthy clients, lots of paid-for procedures and expensive plastic surgery. Perhaps they simply felt sorry for the lad and fed him.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Greco. “How did the youngster get in there for a start? We’ll call it a day. Tomorrow, let’s see if we can get a name on that board.”

  “I’ve rung the newspaper,” Leah told them. “They say Rouse is out doing an interview.”

  Greco looked at Joel. “Get his address tomorrow. Then we’ll pay Mr Rouse a visit.”

  Chapter 4

  Speedy stretched his long arms. “I’m ready for a pint. Anyone want to join me?”

  “A quick one,” said Grace. “You, sir?”

  Greco wanted to go straight home but he’d learned that it was important to socialise with the team. “Okay, but just one.”

  “Mind if I duck out?” Leah chipped in. “Perhaps another time.”

  Greco didn’t miss the look of relief on Grace’s face. He’d see how it went, but he might have to have a word. He couldn’t afford any jealousy or ill-feeling in his team.

  “I won’t either,” Joel added. His gaze was still fixed on the computer screen.

  As they made for the stairs, Speedy was on his phone. “Michelle is joining us,” he told them, a beaming smile on his face. “Thought you might like to meet her.”

  Greco couldn’t recall Speedy being keen for them to meet any of his previous girlfriends. Perhaps this one was serious.

  The Gorton Arms was directly across the road from the station. A relic from the Victorian era, it still sported the original green tiles on the walls. It was on a main bus route into Manchester, and was rough and ready. Any late trade came from the backstreets. At this time of day the clientele were folk on their way home from work locally.

  The instant they walked through the door, a young woman jumped off a bar stool and grabbed Speedy’s arm. Greco was aware of strong, cloying perfume and a heavily made-up face. A very short skirt and big hair completed the picture. She was young, no more than twenty. A little too young for Speedy, thought Greco.

  “Got you one in, babe.” She kissed him, and took his hand to drag him away.

  “These are some of my work mates . . .” Speedy tried.

  “Thought we’d go for that meal, then back to yours. My flatmate’s got her fella round tonight.”

  He tried again. “This is Grace. And this is the big boss, DCI Greco. This is Michelle.”

  She smiled at Grace but regarded Greco with a puzzled look. “So what do I call you?” She tilted her head, hands on her hips.

  Greco smiled at her. “Stephen.”

  For reasons Greco couldn’t fathom, she burst out laughing. “Sorry, but you don’t look like a Stephen.” She downed her drink. “Need this. Had a shit day at work.” Her eyes were back on Speedy. “Mr Henshaw himself was in and had a right strop. Books don’t balance, so we all suffered. He’s had the VAT man on the phone. Miss Dent this and Miss Dent that. I’m sick of the sound of my name and that man’s voice. Not a happy office.”

  She had shoulder-length, thick blonde hair cut in layers, which made it look untidy. Michelle Dent was pretty enough but she was tall and too thin. A lot like Speedy, Greco thought, and smiled to himself. Her voice was loud and penetrating. When she laughed, the whole pub heard. She didn’t appear at all interested in Speedy’s colleagues. She sat close to him, playing with his curly hair.

  “What sort of day did you have, babe?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Anything scary? Safe to walk the streets, is it?”

  “I’d be careful,” he warned. “We’ve got a knifeman on the loose.”

  She gave a little scream. Greco threw Speedy a look. He shouldn’t be discussing the current case in the pub.

  “Got a body, have you?” she asked, snuggling even closer to him.

  Grace moved a few yards away from the couple. Greco followed and she changed the subject to police work. “The Rashid Clinic? Want me to give it a visit tomorrow? Show them the picture of the lad?”

  “There’ll be a briefing in the morning. I’ll decided then what aspect of the case each of the team will pursue. We’re jumping the gun in thinking this has anything to do with the Millstone, or the Rashid Clinic.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound pushy. You know how it is, the need to be doing something.” She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Perhaps you’d rather it was DI Wells who went. I forget you’re still finding your feet as a DCI.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” he assured her. “I’m quite happy with the role. I know what you and Speedy are capable of. You’re good detectives. I just have to let Leah and young Joel get stuck in, get to know their strengths. It’s essential that they integrate quickly.”

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  The question was unexpected. Grace’s bluntness often threw him. He had a quick look around to make sure no one could hear them.

  “Not in the way you mean. For a start, I haven’t known her long enough.”

  Grace nodded knowingly. “Well, she likes you. A girl can tell, you know. And what does that mean — you haven’t known her long enough? Are you saying that in time you might like her?”

  Greco couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not. She certainly didn’t look amused. “They’re new. Both she and Joel need my attention. I have to rely on them, trust them to do the job. That means I have to get to know the pair of them quickly. I am not looking for anything more than that. What part of the case I allocate to Leah is down to what she’s best suited to. Nothing else.” Greco wasn’t sure why he was justifying his actions to Grace. He didn’t want her upset. But he didn’t want her getting ideas about him as a prospective boyfriend either.

  “Sorry, wrong end of the stick.”

  Grace was obviously uncomfortable. He’d said too much. “We haven’t spoken much since . . . since Suzy.” He tried a smile. “But it’s not because I’m avoiding you. Me and the world are not a good fit right now. I’m not easy to be with.”

  Grace pulled a face and tightened her blonde ponytail. “I did wonder if it was me. For a while back then we got close. After that, you didn’t come near. I decided you regretted it and were giving me a wide berth.” She smiled at him. “After what happened, Stephen, I thought that you and me . . .”

  This again. Grace liked him, she’d made no secret of it. Dealing with her wasn’t easy, and that was down to his own confused feelings. “It’s because of what happened,” he said. “You are a friend, Grace. I worry that you might get the wrong impression, imagine that I’m looking for more, when I’m not.”

  The words were out, but were they the truth? Wasn’t it more about a fear of commitment?

  She frowned. “Well, that’s me told. So what about the young and talented DI Wells? Are you saying you don’t fancy her either?”

  More of her bluntness. Greco sighed. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that. I have a job to do, and so does she. I’m not interested in a relationship with any woman just now, Grace. It’s too soon.”

&
nbsp; Another peal of laughter from the far corner, and Grace put her hands to her ears. “I’ve had enough. Speedy is welcome to her. I’m off home.”

  This had nothing to do with Speedy’s new girlfriend. It was all down to him. Had he said too much? He didn’t want to sour their relationship, Grace was a good friend.

  He should go home as well, but his head was too full of the case. Greco said his goodbyes and made for the door. Once outside, he checked a map of the local area on his mobile. The Millstone wasn’t far. A quick visit would only delay him by half an hour, tops. As he walked to his car, he rang Pat and told her.

  “Gives me an excuse,” she said, sounding relieved. “I’ve had Gordon McCabe on the phone. He asked me out to dinner. Now I can let him down gently.” She laughed.

  Another complication. The super was chasing his aunt.

  The Millstone wasn’t too far from the pub. Greco parked up and walked towards the impressive entrance. It looked as if it had been recently refurbished. It was now an upmarket restaurant, with a bar and a large function room.

  It was busy when Greco arrived. He went straight to the bar and asked to speak to the manager. The waiter appeared reluctant to call him until Greco showed him his badge. Why so cagey, he wondered?

  The manager was a man called Smith.

  “I’m interested in an event held here yesterday for the Rashid Clinic,” Greco began. He took a headshot of the dead man from his pocket. “Was this man among those attending?”

  Smith took the photo and scrutinised it. “Doesn’t look well, does he? There was over sixty people here. I was kept busy.”

  “It’s important, so think a little harder.”

  “The place was crowded. I was organising the staff and seeing to the food. I do remember it was for the doctors and their prospective clients. But him? Doesn’t look the type.” He looked at the image again and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Greco frowned. This was wasting time. “Are you quite sure? This man was found murdered this morning, and we have reason to believe he was here yesterday.”

  Smith’s face hardened. “I said no,” he growled.

  “For someone who was so busy, you’re very sure.”

  “Like I said, he wasn’t here.”

  “Before I leave, could I have a copy of the menu from the event?” asked Greco.

  The man looked puzzled. “It was nothing special, just a buffet and some drinks.”

  “I’d still like an exact breakdown. If you don’t mind, Mr Smith. Then I’ll say goodnight.”

  Smith handed him a sheet of paper. “Here, it’s our standard event fare. If you’re looking for a troublemaker, try that hack from the Chronicle. He was here, uninvited, and upsetting people.”

  “Which particular hack, Mr Smith?”

  “Tony Rouse.”

  Chapter 5

  Day 2

  “We need to speak to Tony Rouse,” Greco told the team. “That reporter working for the Chronicle. He spoke to the victim outside the multistorey. I’d like to know what about.”

  “Why would someone like Rouse be interested in a homeless lad?”

  “I’ve no idea, Grace. But it must have been important. I called in at the Millstone on my way home last night. Rouse had put in an appearance there too. It looks to me like he may have been following the lad.”

  “In that case, he’s chasing a story, sir,” Speedy said. “Did you find out if the victim was there?”

  “The manager couldn’t be sure. Grace and I will go and find Rouse this morning. Leah — you and Speedy go and speak to the Rashid Clinic. See if anyone who was present at the event can shed any light.”

  “The reporter angle could be a way to go, sir.” Grace was smiling broadly. “We should let the press and media have the picture of the lad. It might jog someone’s memory. Even better, it might attract the attention of a family member. It could save us a lot of legwork.”

  It was a good idea, and Greco nodded at Grace. “Joel, will you arrange that? Then it’s back to the CCTV, I’m afraid.”

  “No probs, sir.”

  “Do we have an address for Rouse?”

  Joel was busy on his computer. “The newspaper gave us the one they’ve got for him. But it says here the flat is rented out to his mother.”

  “Print out the address, Joel. We’ll go and have a word. If he’s not in, she may know where he’s gone.”

  “Do we release the photo?” asked Joel.

  “Okay, but just tell the press that we found the body with no ID. Not that he was murdered. Any other information is under wraps for the time being.”

  “The mother lives on the Lansdowne, sir.” Joel passed him the address.

  McCabe entered the office in time to hear his words. “The Lansdowne, eh? I’d wear a tin hat if I was you, Stephen. Any hint that you’re police and we’ll have to send in the armed squad.”

  “It can’t be that bad, surely?”

  “Put it this way, I’ve not been on that estate since I got this.” McCabe held up his left hand. The tip of the little finger was missing. “Came at me with a bloody machete. Thought the bastard had taken my arm off at the time. Bled like a pig.”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  McCabe nodded. “Just the two of you, and don’t take a uniform. Don’t want to invite trouble.”

  * * *

  “It’s a while since I was here. The estate is falling down,” Grace said.

  She was right. Greco hadn’t seen such a depressing place in a long time. The Lansdowne Estate consisted of four tower blocks. None of them looked to be in good repair. The spaces between them were barren. Rubbish had collected by walls and in corners.

  “No rubbish bins,” Greco observed. “If there were some, folk might at least try to keep the area tidy.”

  Grace smirked. “Trust you to notice that. But you’re wrong. They’d use them as drug drop-off points more likely. Look around. See how many young lads on bikes there are riding up and down the place? Drug runners, the lot of them, bet my life on it. A couple of years ago some loon left a hand grenade in one of those bins. It was just luck that no one was killed. Since then the council won’t even consider replacing them.”

  “There are no houses, just the tower blocks. Not even a parade of shops.”

  “Used to be. There were two dozen or so houses over that way, but they were knocked down to make way for the tram lines. The shops were never a bright idea. One or more of them was broken into on a weekly basis.”

  “Where do the Rouses live?” asked Greco.

  “Trojan House, that one there.” Grace pointed. “Fortunately for us, the flat’s on the second floor. What’s the betting the lift’s out.”

  The door leading into the tower block was hanging off its hinges. Inside, the concrete steps up to the higher floors were chipped and crumbling. The place was bleak and cold. Every sound echoed.

  Climbing the staircase was a nightmare. Greco tried to avoid putting his hand on the rail. It was so dirty it was difficult to tell what colour it had been originally. Finally they reached the second floor deck. “What number?” he asked.

  “Twenty-three.” Grace knocked but got no response. “It doesn’t look lived in.” She tried peering through the window. “Rouse must make a bob or two. Fancy leaving his mum in a dump like this!”

  Greco had to agree. The windows were filthy and a pile of leaves and rubbish had accumulated in the doorway. “Not many visitors, by the looks of it.” He knocked again.

  He and Grace were about to walk away when a voice called out from inside.

  “We’re looking for Mrs Rouse. Can you open the door?”

  They heard movement inside the flat and the sound of a television. Suddenly the door was pulled open and an elderly woman looked out.

  “Who did you say, love?”

  “Mrs Rouse. We’re the police.” Greco showed her his badge.

  “Can’t see without my specs, love. You’re not from the gas board, are you?”
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br />   “No, we’re police,” Greco replied patiently. The woman was thin with wispy grey hair. She looked in need of a square meal and some new clothes.

  “Who are you looking for, love?”

  “We’re here about Tony Rouse, your son.”

  “He’s not here. He’s not been near in weeks. I don’t know where he gets to.”

  “But he does still live here?” asked Grace.

  “Now and then. He flits about. Last I heard he’d got himself one of those places in town, in a block of flats in Spinningfields. Said it was more convenient for work.”

  Grace smiled at her. “Does he visit?”

  No answer to this. “Come in.”

  The front door led straight into the sitting room, which looked like a junkyard. It didn’t appear as if anyone had done any cleaning or put the rubbish out in months. Greco shuddered. The place made his skin crawl. There was no way he could sit down.

  “Have a seat. I’ll get some tea.”

  “Please don’t bother,” Greco said hastily. “Do you have a phone number for him?”

  “I do, if I can find it.”

  They watched as she moved some of her stuff about. Finally she rummaged in a handbag and passed them a slip of paper. “There. It’s his mobile number.”

  Grace took it and copied it down. “Put it back safely, Mrs Rouse, in case you need it again.”

  “Is he in trouble? Chances his arm that one. Mixes with some right types. Tells me it’s his job. But he’ll get his head kicked in one of these days if he’s not careful. Reckons he drinks with Ray Shaw.” Mrs Rouse shuddered. “Dangerous job, working for the paper.”

  “Slicer Shaw. Know him well, does he?” Greco asked.

  “They both grew up around here, so yes, I suppose he does.”

  “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, Mrs Rouse, I shouldn’t worry. We just want a word, that’s all,” Grace said.

  Outside, Greco inhaled deeply, trying to get rid of the stench of that flat.

  Grace nudged him. “It’s not her fault. She’s old. She’s got no one but Rouse. That son of hers obviously isn’t up to much.”

  “His link to Slicer could be significant.” Greco tapped Rouse’s number into his phone. “Mr Rouse?” Greco nodded at Grace. “DCI Greco, East Manchester CID. I’d like to speak to you as soon as possible.”