“You’ve been out?” He asked incredulously, “when I expressly told you not to?”
“I got bored.”
“So you went out and jumped that friend of yours instead?”
“He’s no friend. He called me names and he wanted me to take his pills. I’m done with all that.”
“Is he badly hurt?”
“Yeah. Think he’s dead.”
Neville watched him, trembling, as he ranted around the house, shouting and throwing things. Finally he lashed out and landed Neville one on the chin. Neville stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.
“You’re a bloody fool! They’ll be onto you.” He drew aside a curtain and looked up and down the street. “If the police come knocking, you’re on your own.”
“You’ll stick up for me, though? You won’t let them lock me away. It was only Dan. He was a waste of space anyway.”
“That’s not how they’ll see it — idiot!”
He brought his face up close to Neville’s.
“They’ll haul you away. They’ll stick you in a cell and throw away the fucking key!”
“You shouldn’t have left me on my own.”
“I have to work. Who do you think puts food on the table?”
“I’ve had enough. This isn’t fun anymore. You don’t let me do anything. I don’t see what difference it makes anyway. I did the girls.”
“That was different. They won’t get you for that. They can’t. There’s no evidence. Get out of my sight. I need to think.”
Neville sloped off to his room. He was still pacing the floor. It’d been a pig of a day. Neville couldn’t take any more. He wanted to get out. He’d wait until he had gone to bed, then he’d do a runner.
* * *
They sat down in an alcove. The empty burger bar smelled of grease and onions. Greco couldn’t help looking at the tabletops. They were grimy, sticky and chipped at the edges. He could never eat in a place like this — no matter how hungry he got. Outside, the pavement was littered with food wrappers and polystyrene boxes.
“She goes there a lot. I don’t know why. It’s nothing but a meat market. I often take photos. She doesn’t seem to mind.” Dale Fuller got out his phone and showed Greco the images of Jenna Proctor posing for the camera. Greco noticed he was speaking of Jenna in the present tense. It hadn’t sunk in.
“The other night I took one or two videos of her dancing. I wanted to ask her out . . . but her friends were always hanging around and I didn’t get a chance. She was lovely. I’ve thought so ever since school. She would probably have said no anyway. Jenna was way out of my league.”
“Did you take any pictures of her outside?” Grace asked.
He fiddled with the phone for a moment or two and then showed them a short video of Jenna smoking in the doorway with another girl. It must have been cold: the girls were huddled together under a coat.
“Where were you standing when you took this?”
“I went outside with them and stood across the road. I was photographing Jenna, but I’m also doing a project for college. I’m not sure what I’ll do now, with Jenna being dead. Her folks might not want me to feature her in it.”
“Was there anyone else hanging around, watching the girls or the club?”
“I only had eyes for Jenna. My camera was always pointed her way. But there was this . . . which is why I rang you.”
He’d caught the bouncer throwing Jenna’s bag and shoes out onto the street.
“That one’s a real louse. He’s always on at the girls about taking off their shoes and stuff. He didn’t like Jenna, or her mates. Whenever they were in he’d pick on them. I was going to show this to the manager. Get him on the bouncer’s case.”
Greco and Grace could see Jenna on her knees — that would have been when she threw up. But there was a light to the left of her, the headlights of a parked car.
“It might be possible for one of the techies to clean this up, sir, and get a registration number.
“You were standing inside when you took these?”
“Yes, just behind the lout who threw her out.”
“Why didn’t you say something then? Go out to help her?”
“I wish I had now.” He hung his head. “But Jenna was always getting thrown out. She wasn’t in a good mood and the bouncer was on my case the minute he saw me taking the photos.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No . . . but he did grab my arm and push me back inside. One of Jenna’s mates asked me where she’d gone. I told her. To be honest, I expected her to go and sort her.”
“Thanks, Dale. These could be a great help. Can you send them to me from your phone?” Greco tapped his number and email into the boy’s phone. “If anything else occurs to you, ring me.”
When they were outside, Greco brushed himself down. “I can’t understand how places like that stay in business.”
“The kids like them, that’s why,” she told him. “Fast food, meeting up. When you’re in your teens, that’s what it’s all about.”
His phone pinged. Dale had sent the photos to him. “I’m going to the station to give these to George if she’s still there.”
“I’ll go home if you don’t need me.”
“Okay, Grace. See you in the morning.”
* * *
Neither Craig nor Speedy were in the office, but George was still hard at it.
He passed her his phone. “Have a look at these. They are images and video of Jenna Proctor at the club. There is a car parked near to where she was pushed out. See what you can do.”
George transferred the images and handed the phone back to him. “Something’s happened, sir, this afternoon.”
About to head off, Greco stopped. “Important?”
“Strange — and that probably makes it important.”
“Go on then, tell me.”
“We’re being talked about on social media — Twitter mostly. These have been circulating since lunchtime, but I’ve only just seen them.”
Greco looked at the string of messages on the screen. There were dozens of them, all from someone calling himself ‘smiley mouth.’
“They’re aimed at us, sir. Some are criticising the way the investigation is going, some are goading us — betting we won’t get him. That sort of thing.”
“Anything specific about the murders?”
“No. But that name he’s using. I’m thinking about the way he cut their faces.”
She was right. “Can we find out who’s posting them?”
“I tried, but I’ve had to pass it up to the techie people. The tweets are bounced around from one IP address to another before they get to us. It’s like trying to unravel knitting wool the cat’s had hold of.”
“The letter sent to Laycock was signed the same way.”
“Hashtag ‘smiley mouth’ is trending, sir. He’s getting more followers by the minute.”
Chapter 12
Greco didn’t want to go home. The last thing he wanted was to end up arguing with Suzy. He could go to his flat, spend the night there. But for once he didn’t feel like being on his own.
He left his car in the station car park and walked the few hundred yards into Oldston town centre. It was gone seven in the evening so the shops were closed, but the town was still busy. It was a warm evening. People were sitting outside the pubs, drinking. Everyone looked so happy, without a care in the world. Didn’t they realise they had a monster in their midst?
He crossed the High Street and went into the Crown. He needed a drink. He wasn’t a regular pub-goer and didn’t know the pubs in Oldston, but he had been in there. If he did drink, he usually preferred to do it at home. But not tonight.
Megan Hunter greeted him with a wary smile. “Your people were in earlier,” she told him. “I’ve nothing else to say.”
“I’m not working,” he said. “Give me a whiskey, please.”
Her face softened. “Hard day?”
He nodded.
�
�Shame. You’re all alone. Couldn’t you persuade Grace to join you?”
“We’re work colleagues,” he said.
“You could do worse, you know.” She put down his drink. “She’s an attractive woman — and single.”
Ignoring her comment, Greco swallowed the whiskey. He’d never been a big drinker but this one hardly touched the sides. “Another, please.”
“Well, if it isn’t one of our inept policemen!” The voice came from behind, startling him. “I’m surprised you’ve got time to drink, Inspector. That murdering bastard is still on the loose. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”
Laycock.
“I’m having a quiet drink. I suggest you go and bother someone else,” he said, keeping his voice even.
Laycock laughed. He clapped Greco on the back, affably. “Have you eaten? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but this pub is famous for its meat-and-potato pie. There’s a table free over there.”
Megan Hunter was hovering, waiting for him to make up his mind. Greco had hardly eaten all day.
“Okay,” he said, wearily.
“You grab the table and I’ll get more drinks in.”
Drinking with Laycock in the Crown was the last thing he’d expected to be doing. But perhaps he could work it to his advantage. For a start, he wanted to know why the reporter was so down on the police.
As Greco sat waiting for him to bring the drinks over, he checked Twitter on his phone. There were another half dozen or so scathing missives. He’d have a closer look later and try to analyse the content. For now he had Laycock to contend with.
He took his whiskey and made himself comfortable. The place wasn’t bad. It looked clean at least. They were sitting in the designated eating area. All the tables were covered with crisp white tablecloths and had a small posy of flowers in the centre. Ordinarily he’d think twice before eating anywhere that didn’t have its current hygiene certificate on display. But this place felt okay, and Grace had said Megan Hunter had worked hard to turn the place around.
“He isn’t giving much away, your killer.” Laycock said, after swallowing half of his pint.
“You can’t possibly know that,” Greco replied.
“Get off it! He’s got you stumped. Admit it — this bastard’s clever.”
“They’re never that clever, believe me. We’ve got one or two strong leads.”
“He’s leading you up the garden path, you mean. This one’s a planner. He’s got you lot floundering around chasing your tails.”
“Why are you so against us? A different attitude could pay dividends, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“The press could help. You could encourage people to come forward, tell us what they know.”
“This is too big for you to handle,” said Laycock. “There was supposed to be a special squad set up to deal with cases like this. Where is it? What’s happened to all the big plans we were told about in that press release three months ago?”
“It takes time. The powers that be haven’t found the right people yet.”
“Look, Greco, this isn’t personal. I see a story and I go after it.”
“You turn it into a circus, you mean. You twist things, tell lies. You accomplish nothing and upset people. It was you who spoke to Mavis Weston and told her a pack of lies about what had happened to her daughter.”
“Fine. If all I’m going to get is grief, you can go and sit somewhere else, Greco.”
“That woman had just heard that her daughter had been murdered. You came along and stuck the knife in even deeper. What did you tell her, Laycock?”
“The truth.”
“And what truth was that?”
“Whatever my readers want to read. I sell papers. A story like this one sells thousands.”
“You’re a louse. Do you know that?”
“Sorry, can’t help it.”
This wasn’t a chance meeting, Greco suddenly realised. Laycock wanted something.
“The story is everything. And this one is big.” He paused, regarding Greco closely. “When are you going to let us in, Mister Policeman? Why won’t you tell us the truth?”
“We can’t. It’s not that sort of case,” said Greco.
“What if we do an exchange? We’ll give you the help you talked about and you give us more information. We could run an appeal. Pitch it so that folk would come forward.”
Greco shook his head. “Absolutely not. We cannot release any details. Besides, in my experience, people around here are very reluctant to help the police in any way — murder or no murder.
“They might loosen their tongues for a reward. My paper would help,” Laycock said. “It’s surprising what people will do for money.”
“Not this time.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Megan Hunter chose that moment to serve the food. Greco had to calm down enough to eat it. He took another slug of whiskey. “Would you bring me a half?”
They ate in silence. Laycock had been right about one thing. The pie was good. Greco washed it down with his beer.
“Hope you’re not driving home, Inspector.”
“Don’t worry about me, Laycock.”
Laycock laughed. “Well, riveting as this is, I’ve got to go. There’s a taxi rank round the corner if you need one. Wish I could say it had been a pleasure, but we both know that would be stretching it.”
Greco watched as he picked up his stuff and left. He’d give him a few minutes then get off himself.
But off where? He still hadn’t decided. A battle with Suzy, or an empty flat? He found himself out on the street and walking towards Pierce Street. It was getting dark. He tried to do some thinking about the case.
But his mind kept straying back to Suzy, and her tryst in the park. Who was he? Greco had only seen his back. All he could say about his rival was that he was tall with dark hair. She must know him from somewhere — the college where she worked? Suzy had never spoken about anyone there. But then she wouldn’t, would she? He needed to speak to her, but not yet. It was all far too raw.
Greco had walked for a good fifteen minutes before he realised he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was nowhere near Pierce Street. His head full of Suzy, he’d wandered aimlessly around the back streets of Oldston. Now he was lost.
He walked another hundred yards or so and saw a street sign. This was where Grace lived.
He hadn’t done it on purpose. He was confused. The drink, the shock of Suzy, and the case. At least Grace would understand. He rang the front doorbell.
“Sir! Something happened?”
“Call me Stephen and yes, I suppose it has.”
* * *
“Coffee and toast will have to do you.”
Grace came into the sitting room where Greco lay on the sofa, still half asleep.
“Fine.” He winced at the rattle of crockery on the table. His head hurt.
“Me too,” Grace said. She moved his legs aside so she could sit down. “We got talking and I opened a bottle of red. You must have had quite a mix last night.”
He couldn’t remember.
“What did I say?”
“You ranted a bit about Laycock. You told me your ex-wife is having an affair, and how pissed off you are about it.”
He must have really opened up. Not like him. Greco brushed his hair back from his forehead. He still hadn’t got it cut. “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know why I came here, but it was good of you to let me stay.”
“Just as well you did. You were drunk. You were quite funny, actually,” she giggled.
“Not my usual style.”
“What, being funny?”
“No — sleeping on colleagues’ sofas.”
“It’s better than crashing on some bench somewhere.”
“Do you mind if we keep this to ourselves?” This was way off beam for him. Greco couldn’t remember the last time he’d got drunk. He didn’t think he’d ever behaved this way with a female colleague.
/>
“Fine by me.” She passed him the coffee. “Why — am I that embarrassing?”
“It’s nothing like that. I just feel such a fool. This isn’t the way I carry on, believe me. Seeing Suzy with another man — it shook me up. I went a bit crazy for a while. It was so unexpected. After all, it was her that wanted to try again.”
“Yes I know — you told me. In fact you wouldn’t shut up. You gave me chapter and verse.” She winked at him. “You also told me to call you ‘Stephen.’ But perhaps not when we’re on duty, eh, sir.”
Grace was grinning. What else had he said? And even more worrying — how had he behaved? Time to get out of there.
“Can I use your shower?”
“Help yourself. Clean towels are on the shelf in the bathroom. Make as much noise as you want. You won’t wake anyone up. My mum came for Holly ages ago.”
“She saw me — here?”
“She didn’t bat an eye,” Grace teased. “She’s well used to me bringing men home.”
Greco looked horrified.
“Joke, sir. I told her you had problems. She understood.”
“I’ve overstepped the mark.” He sat up.
“No, you haven’t. You needed someone to talk to. I don’t mind being your sounding board.”
“I don’t want this getting around the station.”
“I won’t say a word,” she promised. “Given that we’re sharing confidences, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve started seeing someone.”
Greco smiled. That was good. Grace deserved to be happy.
“It’s still early on in the relationship but I like him and so does Holly. I don’t want folk at the station gossiping about me, either.”
“Do I know him?”
“You might actually, but that’s all I’m saying.”
He checked his watch. “It’s nearly nine.”
“I know, and we’re late for work.”
Chapter 13
George was addressing the team, showing them the tweets that had been posted overnight.
“They are getting more specific. Yesterday it was just general stuff. How badly the investigation was going. How we’d never catch the killer because we are all stupid, that sort of thing. But today the tone has changed.”
Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set Page 30
