THE FACELESS MAN an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detectives Lennox & Wilde Thrillers Book 2)

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “Nah. I’ve got something in the fridge, thanks. I’ll eat and read. I have to be word perfect for tomorrow. I’m one of the speakers at a seminar in Manchester. Outlining new dental procedures to the latest bunch of recruits to the profession.”

  Harry grimaced. “Sounds like a load of laughs.”

  Hugh grinned. “Each to his own, but I do enjoy the job, even the travelling about. I’m off again next week, be gone a few days.”

  “CID isn’t much better,” Harry said with a wry smile. “Let one of us know when you’re back and we’ll get the beers in.”

  “Good night, Harry,” Hugh said, turning the key in his lock. “I’ll drop you a text.”

  Harry watched him disappear into the flat. He’d have to temper the noise now. No having the telly on loud if Hugh was trying to concentrate. But he didn’t mind. Like Hettie had said, this was a far cry from the camper and Harry was grateful to Col for taking him in.

  Chapter Twelve

  Day Two

  The following morning, Harry met Jess in the car park at the Reid. The moment he caught her eye, he saw the amused look. She knew. Already.

  “Someone’s told you.”

  “Oh yes, you’re the talk of the station, Lennox. Black hair, very pretty. Scottish, I heard. I’m guessing she’s someone from back home. And — the big news — you were actually engaged. Want to tell me about her?”

  “No, so don’t even try.”

  “Apparently you weren’t very nice to her. Seems she left the station with a flea in her ear. That’s no way to treat an old girlfriend.”

  “She’s not an old girlfriend, and she was engaged to my brother, not me. Which is a pity because I did have a thing for her too, but it’s too late to turn back the clock now.”

  “The duty sergeant said—”

  “Will you leave it, Jess,” he snapped. “I’m not up to this right now. I’d rather think about the job in hand if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want. But she’ll be back, you know she will.”

  Yes, he did, Isla wouldn’t give in. She wanted answers, so when she put him on the spot his story would have to be good. But his mind wasn’t up to working it out. Not now. Isla would have to go on the back burner until he was ready.

  Melanie and her team had Dean Greenwood laid out ready on the table. “He’s been officially identified by his mother,” she confirmed.

  The lad was tall and slight. In death, his skin was pale with a waxy sheen. The burns had left red, raw patches on his midriff.

  “When the petrol caught, the initial flare burned through the clothing covering his chest.”

  “Did the knife wound kill him?” Harry asked.

  “Let’s find out.” Melanie measured the width and depth of the wound.

  They watched her make the usual incisions in the body and remove the heart. Turning the organ around in her hand, she said, “I was right. The wound is catastrophic. The killer used a thin blade, double edged. It went in between the ribs and straight into the heart. Death would have been quick. He didn’t suffer and would have known nothing about the fire.”

  “Anything else?” Harry asked. “Bruising, defence wounds for example?”

  Melanie turned over each of the hands. “There’s nothing. I doubt he saw this coming.”

  Harry sighed. “Is there anything you can give us that’ll help? So far, we’ve got two victims and a killer, with nothing to link any of them.”

  “We’ll swab for DNA, but I doubt we’ll find anything. The fire, plus the rain . . .” She grimaced. “But we’ll do a full tox screen, see what that throws up, if anything.”

  So far there was nothing helpful. Their killer knew what he was doing and not to leave traces behind, but Harry couldn’t believe there was absolutely nothing. Dean was a bright lad. If he’d been at all suspicious of his killer, he’d have reacted. He’d been on this man’s tail for a while, he must have known how dangerous he was. “Check the Greenwood house again, see if you can find that missing laptop, and go over his clothing a second time, will you?” he asked.

  “On it,” said Hettie. “What’s left of it. There’s mud and blood, as you’d expect, but so far, it’s only the lad’s.”

  “Anything on the boat?” Harry asked.

  “It’s been badly damaged by the fire,” Hettie said. “But on the upper side, near the edge, we did find a partial boot print. It matches those we found on the lake bank and along the muddy trail that leads back to the playground.” Hettie pulled a face. “We’ve taken casts, but boot prints alone aren’t going to help much. We need the boots themselves to put the owner at the kill site — provided he hasn’t cleaned them or dumped them somewhere.”

  Melanie was still examining the body under the bright lights.

  “The blade used to kill him — have you checked it against the wound inflicted on Julia Burton?” Jess asked.

  “Yes. Although I haven’t done the full PM yet, I have looked at the wound. I’d say the same blade was used for both killings,” Melanie confirmed. “Same thickness and depth of wound.”

  So, that was it. Dean’s PM yielded nothing apart from the fact that the same blade probably killed him and Julia Burton. “Let me know if anything else turns up,” Harry said as they left.

  The pair made their way back to their cars. “The CCTV from both the playground and the hotel should be in by now. I’ll check it over when I’m back,” Harry said.

  “Even if you do spot him, I bet it won’t help,” Jess said. “He’s clever, careful, he’ll simply be a dark shape in the shadows.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Colin Vance knew that looking for links between the victims was a thankless task without something to work with. But where Lana was concerned, he believed he had just that. He’d been studying the case notes on the killing in Hulme and noticed a strong physical resemblance between Lana and the victim, Nadia Nasir.

  Researching Lana should be simple — the young woman had a huge social media presence and her own YouTube channel. There were pictures galore, but that’s as far as it went. There wasn’t any real information, such as her family members or even where she came from, which was what he wanted. Nadia Nasir had lived and worked in Hulme on the outskirts of the city for five years, but the notes said she originally hailed from London.

  Placing photos of both girls side by side, Colin was struck by their similarity. Unlike Lana, Nadia wasn’t wearing a lot of make-up, but both had the same lustrous black hair and huge dark eyes. But it was more than that. There was something about the shape of the face and the high cheekbones. It wasn’t just that they shared the same ethic background, Colin felt sure the two were related in some way. But if so, how?

  He did a search of the birth, marriage and death registers, found the entry for Nadia’s death, but no birth or marriage records, and there was nothing at all for Lana. It was possible that they’d been born elsewhere, or Nadia had changed her name. Regarding Lana, he had no idea. They’d have to ask her. But first, he had to make sure he was on the right track. He rang Hettie.

  “There was a murder a month ago in Hulme — a young woman, Nadia Nasir. Would you do a DNA comparison with Lana Midani? It’s just a hunch but I think the two women are related.”

  “No problem. Nasir’s DNA will be on the system and I took a sample from Ms Midani myself for elimination purposes after the incident at the hotel. Put up quite a fight she did too. Seemed to think I was up to no good and it would jeopardise her freedom in some way.”

  “She could be right. I can’t find any birth records for her or Ms Nasir,” Colin said.

  “You should speak to immigration. It’s possible they are both illegals.”

  If that was the case, is that what got Nadia killed, and was it the reason for the attempt on Lana’s life? And did that mean they had an ongoing dispute with a people smuggler? But what had that to do with their killer?

  The DNA would take a while. Colin considered his next move. Harry li
ked initiative and Colin wanted to impress the boss. Dare he go and see Lana himself, ask her outright about Nadia? Colin decided to leave that one for now. He watched some footage of her on YouTube. Lana Midani was beautiful, opinionated, and she terrified him. Colin decided he’d look at the CCTV from Cheetham Park instead. The camera on the lakeside booth yielded nothing. It hadn’t worked in months, apparently. Colin turned to what they had from the entrance.

  On the night Dean was killed it had been raining, so the footage was dark and indistinct. The time stamp put Dean in the park at seven thirty, and a coloured flash on the side of his trainers made him easy to identify. He walked in front of the camera, hands in his cagoule pockets, hood up, and then disappeared out of shot. Five minutes later, a man strode within camera range, but the footage was so indistinct Colin couldn’t get a clear sight of him. A few seconds later he saw him join Dean under the trees. The man was tall and wore bulky dark clothing, possibly motorbike leathers, with a hat or hood pulled well down over his face. Dean didn’t show any surprise when the man appeared. He even smiled at him. They evidently knew each other.

  Colin zoomed in on the figure and got a grainy partial side shot of the face. Suddenly, the interchange between the two men altered. The unknown man seemed to be trying to pull Dean back towards the entrance gates. But the lad was having none of it. Dean lashed out, shrugged him off and stalked towards the play equipment. The rain was now pelting down, and the quality of the video worsened. Colin squinted and stared but he couldn’t pick up either of them again.

  But he had that image of the face, such as it was. Colin printed it out and stuck it on the incident board. His next task would be to compare it with whatever they had from the hotel.

  Lana Midani’s suite was on the eighth floor. The footage came from the cameras on the emergency staircase, there was one on each of the eight floors up to the penthouse. At first, the stairs were empty and then a man came into shot. He was wearing motorbike leathers with heavy boots and a baseball cap pulled down over his face. He was tall and lean, but that was all Colin was able to gather. Was this the person who’d met Dean in the park? Colin couldn’t tell.

  Harry and Jess barged in, interrupting the peace and quiet of the office. “We got nothing from the PM,” Harry told Colin. “Hettie’s still got tests to do — toxicology and the like. What’ve you been up to?”

  “I think Lana was related to the girl that was killed in Hulme,” Colin said. “See these photos?” He laid them out, side by side. “There’s a definite resemblance. I’ve done the usual checks, but I can’t find any trace of either of them.”

  “I think you could have something there. Well done, Col. Want to follow it up? Go and question Lana, then speak to whoever is investigating the Hulme killing.”

  Colin nodded. If he could only get over being star-struck, he’d like nothing better than to meet the famous Lana. “There’s that, too.” He pointed to the other photo on the incident board. “Whoever he or she is, they were in the park with Dean the night he was killed.”

  “They look older than Dean, and much taller, but that’s all I can make out. I don’t recognise them.”

  Harry walked closer to the board and studied the image. “I do,” he said soberly. “That’s Brian Isherwood, the bloke who lives next door to the Greenwoods.”

  “In that case, Isherwood has some explaining to do. Why didn’t he tell us he saw Dean that night?” Jess asked.

  “More to the point, what was he doing there?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What’s the man playing at? Why didn’t he tell us when he had the chance?” Harry stared angrily at the image on the board for a few moments. “We’ll bring him in, interview him formally.”

  “There might be a logical explanation for why he was there,” Jess said.

  “Then why the secrecy? No, he comes in. In the meantime, Col, look closer at Isherwood. His personal life, his job, everything.”

  “I’ll make a start now,” Colin said.

  Harry needed to think. Not only was Isherwood in the park the night Dean was killed, he had also been in Galashiels when the Scottish murders occurred. Was he the killer, and had Dean been able to assemble his board because he was close to the man? If so, Isherwood would know what Dean had on him. Was it Isherwood who’d taken that third laptop?

  Harry watched the footage from the park again. Did Isherwood know there was a camera? He made no attempt to hide his face. At one point, despite the rain, he pushed the hood back off his head. “We’ll get round there,” Harry said to Jess. “But I want another word with Dean’s mother first.”

  “Why? What’s on your mind?”

  “That is definitely Isherwood. He didn’t tell us he was there that night and that’s suspicious in itself. If he is the killer, he knows Dean collected chapter and verse on him, and he wouldn’t want that information falling into our hands.”

  “What about Lana Midani?” Col asked.

  “We’ll get round to her, don’t worry. You’ll still get a chance to meet the lovely lady.”

  It was a short drive to Isherwood’s house, but it gave Jess enough time to ask about his visitor. “Your girlfriend gone back home then?”

  “I’ve no idea, but I hope so. I don’t have time to socialise, not even with Isla. And she’s not and never was my girlfriend,” he lied.

  “A drink wouldn’t do any harm. She’s come a long way to see you, surely you owe her that much.”

  “I owe her nothing. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jess. Isla is history, and not mine either.”

  “I don’t understand you at times, Harry. The woman was upset. The least you could do was talk to her properly. Whatever it is you’re hiding, this isn’t the way to deal with it.”

  “Don’t tell me how to sort my life, Jess. I know what I’m doing.”

  “No, you don’t, you’re fumbling around in the dark without a clue. You’re a mess, Harry Lennox.”

  * * *

  Maggie Greenwood was at home. They saw her car on the drive and her face at the window.

  “What’re you hoping Maggie can tell us?” Jess asked as they approached the front door.

  “What she knows about Dean’s laptops, Isherwood — anything that might help,” Harry said.

  “Do you have any news for me?” Maggie asked as she opened the door. “Have you found who did that to my boy?”

  “Can we come in?” Harry asked.

  “Please, tell me why you’re here,” she insisted. “I don’t think you realise how hard this is for me. Dean was my only child, my perfect boy. I miss him terribly.”

  “We’re still investigating,” Jess told her. “I know you’re desperate for results, but believe me, so are we.”

  They moved into the sitting room. Maggie was weeping again.

  “How well d’you know Brian Isherwood?” Jess asked suddenly.

  Maggie looked from one to the other of them. “He’s been a good friend to me and my Dean. Why?”

  “Has he been living next door for long?” Jess asked.

  “A couple of years or so. Him and June have been a godsend. They’re the ideal neighbours.”

  “What does he do for a living?” Jess asked.

  “He works for a horticulture company, selling seeds to garden centres and nurseries. He travels a lot, sometimes he’s gone for the entire week.”

  “Away a lot then, and all over the country?” Jess said.

  “Yes, but that’s not unusual.” Maggie frowned.

  “Did he ever ask to borrow one of Dean’s laptops?” Harry asked her. “We understand from a friend of his that he had three, but we only saw two. We suspect that there’s important information on the third one.”

  Maggie Greenwood looked at Harry and shook her head. “What is this? What are you trying to do, blame Brian for what happened? Well you’re wrong! Brian is a good man, he would never hurt my Dean!” She was shouting now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Harry and Jes
s left the Greenwood house, they saw Brian Isherwood on his drive, about to get into his car.

  “Mr Isherwood, we’d like a word,” Harry called out.

  “What is it now?” Brian smiled.

  “We want you to come down to the station, look at some CCTV we’ve got and answer a few questions,” Harry said.

  “Can’t I do that here?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Harry said. “Everything checks out, we won’t keep you long.”

  Isherwood’s face clouded. “And if it’s not, what happens then?”

  Jess opened one of the rear doors and beckoned him over. “Sit in here next to me. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

  “This is way over the top. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but you’re wrong.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Harry said.

  * * *

  Back at the station, once he’d been finger printed and a DNA sample taken they put Brian Isherwood in an interview room, while Harry went to get the stills from the CCTV footage.

  “A call came in from IT forensics while you were out,” Colin told him. “A woman called Sasha Steele wants to speak to you.”

  “I’ll ring her when we’re done here. About those laptops, is it?”

  “Yes. I don’t recognise the name. Is she new?”

  “Don’t know, Col. If she is and you want the lowdown, then you should speak to Hettie.” He smiled. “Steele? If you do speak to Hettie, ask if this Sasha is related to Hector. He’s the main man at the Reid. If she is, we’ll have to watch our step.”

  Armed with the photos and a whole lot of questions, Harry went to speak to Brian Isherwood. He was seated under the watchful eye of a uniformed PC but didn’t appear bothered. If anything, he seemed more curious than nervous.

  “Should I have a solicitor?” he asked when Harry sat down. “Only I don’t know any, and it might take me a while to arrange one.”

  “We can get you the duty one if you wish. It’ll take about half an hour,” Harry said.