Demons, Greco knew all about them. What had happened to Suzy would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn’t sleep without seeing the image of her hanging there in that room. He wanted to weep each time he glimpsed a photo of her, or Matilda mentioned her name. He had no idea how he was going to get over any of this.
“You all did a great job. Grace, George, the four of you — and Scarlett. Where is she, by the way?” He sounded almost normal. But then they couldn’t see the turmoil in his head.
“She’s gone back to Daneside,” Grace said and smiled.
“You pieced this together with no help from me. After Suzy — I just fell apart.” He knew that sounded glib but he didn’t want to break down in front of his colleagues, understanding as they were.
“She was your wife, you had every right to,” said Grace.
“Ex-wife. Like you kept reminding me — and she was seeing another man.”
“Nevertheless, you were close and she was Matilda’s mother. You really should go home. You don’t look yourself at all.”
Greco knew he looked a mess. He’d slept in his clothes and he hadn’t shaved. He hardly recognised himself when he looked in the mirror. “I don’t do time off very well. Matilda is staying with her grandparents at Suzy’s house, so I’m back in the flat. I’ll go mad sitting on my own with nothing to do.”
“I’m not tiptoeing around this,” Grace said firmly. “You look like crap. The DCI said you had to take time off. So you should take it. And think of Matilda. She’s just lost her mum. You don’t want her worrying about her dad too. If you don’t see her, she’ll fret.”
“I’m thinking of moving on, actually.” He put his head in his hands.
They stared at him in disbelief. Then they all spoke at once, all protesting.
“Why do that? You’re settled here now,” Grace said.
“I came to Oldston because Matilda was here with Suzy. The chances are that now she’ll go back to Norfolk with her grandparents.”
“Speak to her. Ask the child what she wants to do. Being a single parent isn’t easy, but you will get by. I do. And I’ll lay odds she’ll want to stay with you.”
Greco shrugged. He wasn’t sure that was even what he wanted. Work was so demanding that he’d rarely see the child. She’d grow up with no mother and a part-time father. Could he do that to her?
“Stephen, I saw you pass my office door. Can I have a word, please?” DCI Green asked, popping his head round the corner.
Now he’d get it from the boss too. “I’m climbing the walls at home,” he said, as they walked down the corridor.
“But home is where you belong. Those aren’t just words, Stephen. I’m probably the only person here who appreciates something of what you’re going through. I lost my first wife twenty years ago — traffic accident on the M62. It was a dreadful time. I was ready to give up the lot. She left me with the twins — five years old, they were.”
This was a revelation. Greco had had no idea.
“You managed?”
“Yes, I did. But don’t be misled. It was tough. After a while things settle but you’re the one left with the reality. This is no time to be putting on a brave face. I took the time off, and so should you. The job will still be here. You will have to make changes, compromise. But what matters is how you move forward with your daughter. The pair of you have to build a different life.”
“She has her grandparents.”
“She needs you. When Angie died, I almost made the same mistake. Her parents were only too willing to take the girls. We were in the middle of a case and I got my priorities wrong. In the end, I realised what was important and I let it go. The team coped without me, as yours did. If you don’t take the time to grieve, within weeks you’ll be a mess. I didn’t come back to work until I could see things more clearly. I made use of the system and the kindness of friends and family.”
Greco hadn’t a clue about any of this. But then why should he? He was still getting to know Colin Green.
They reached the DCI’s office and he gestured for Greco to sit down.
“You should know that what you and your team did hasn’t gone unnoticed. Brough was a serial killer no one was even aware of. The forces in the locations he’d operated in suspected there was someone else, but they had no proof. He could have kept killing for a long time.”
“And getting away with it,” Greco said with disgust. “He set Dakin up good and proper. Gave him a car and a debit card, and purchases were all made in that young man’s name.”
“The new task force — the major incident team — has finally got the go-ahead. It will be put together within the next couple of months. You have been put forward as the DCI who should lead it.”
Greco was stunned. “I couldn’t possibly take it on. My head’s all over the place. They’ll have to look for someone else.”
“I know now is not a good time. I’ve told them upstairs and no one is pushing you. You’ve been through a nightmare. I can’t begin to imagine the horror you must have felt in that room. There is counselling available, you know. You should consider it.”
Greco dipped his eyes. He didn’t want sympathy, it made him weep, and he didn’t want counselling. He’d had enough of that with his OCD.
“I wouldn’t have broached the new job at all, but the super insisted that I should. He sees it as a great opportunity. At any other time in your life I would agree with him. But I have stressed that you must not be hurried into this.”
“So I can think about it?”
“Take as much time as you need,” Green said kindly.
“It’s a far bigger job,” Greco shook his head. The doubts were already there. “The sacrifice might be too much,” he looked at Green. “I’m thinking of Matilda. I’d end up seeing even less of her.”
“A father drowning under the weight of tragedy is no good for her either. I know it’s small consolation but ultimately it might be good for both of you. You are ambitious, Stephen, I know that.”
“My team here?”
“You don’t have to think about the details now. But you will have a say in the make-up of the new team. Some of the officers here might be happy to transfer with you.”
“Okay, I’ll give it some thought.”
“That’s all I ask, Stephen. But wait a few weeks until this is less raw. The decision on how to move forward is yours alone. Personally, I wouldn’t want the force to lose you. But, given what’s happened I understand the difficulties you face.”
Greco walked back to the main office in a daze. Did he want this? What should he tell his colleagues? More to the point, who would he want to take with him?
“Give you a hard time, sir?”
“No, Speedy. Quite the reverse. I think he might have just thrown me a lifeline.”
THE END
Book 3:
DARK TRADE
A gripping crime thriller full of twists
Helen H. Durrant
To Shelley and Melissa — my two lovely daughters.
Prologue
The knife slid in between the ribs, the tip positioned at the fifth intercostal space, then six inches of hard steel driven upwards. A split second later it entered his heart.
“Sorry. Nothing personal.”
The kid turned, squinting up at his assailant. A strange face, smiling down at him, followed by a sharp pain as the knife was yanked free. For a moment he was stunned, frozen as his brain tried to process what had happened. His hands and eyes flew to his chest. There was blood, more than he’d ever seen. He sank to his knees, unable to scream. Shock and disbelief had taken away his voice. Seconds later he was dead.
* * *
Pocketing the knife, his assailant bent down and kicked him onto his back. He straightened the boy’s legs, and neatly folded his arms across his chest. He put a hand to the jacket pocket — nothing but a few coins. No wallet, mobile or anything else to identify him. Made the job easy, just as Mickey liked it.
“A practis
ed hand, I’d no idea. Boss’ll be impressed,” the driver said as Mickey slid into the passenger seat.
“He’s not my boss. I work for myself. Just get me out of this poxy car park.”
“Don’t get shirty with me.”
The killer examined the meagre haul. “He didn’t have much. Only a kid. What did he do to deserve that?”
“Became a liability. Slicer likes things neat and tidy.” The driver laughed.
“Slicer is an arse.”
The driver looked at him. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“Slicer doesn’t frighten me.”
“Well, he should.”
“Slicer can go to hell! You got my money?”
“Slicer said when it’s over.”
“He’s dead. It’s over. You don’t leave this car until I get paid.” There was menace in the words and the driver gripped the wheel, looking ahead.
“He wants to talk,” he admitted. “Pay you himself. Offer you a deal.”
Mickey shuffled uneasily on the seat. “I don’t do meetings. Ring him. Get me my money.”
“Ring him yourself!”
Mickey didn’t like this, it wasn’t how these things worked. A name, a place and payment on results. Anything else was a complication.
“Where does he want to meet?”
The driver smiled. “That’s better. Now relax. He’s got a deal you will be interested in.”
“Where?”
“I’ll pick you up, same place, midday tomorrow,” said the driver. “Don’t worry. Slicer will have your money.”
“He better have.”
“Cocky bastard, aren’t you, kid?”
“No. What I am, is good.”
Chapter 1
Day 1
Another look in the mirror. A tweak of his tie. Steel grey — a perfect match for both his shirt and his mood. Stephen Greco closed his eyes, and a weary sigh escaped his mouth. What was he doing?
“You look smart.” The voice behind him was reassuring, and there was a comforting hand on his arm.
“Thanks, Pat.”
The woman smiled at his reflection. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be great. This is what you’ve always wanted — promotion to DCI. Remember?”
He gave a half-hearted smile. “That was before . . .” He averted his eyes from hers. His stomach tormented him whenever he spoke of Suzy. “Now I’m not so sure.”
“You need to work, Stephen. It’s good for you. Suzy wouldn’t want you moping. She’d want you to get on with your life. And Matilda needs you to be on top form.”
Mention of his young daughter put the smile back on his face. Pat was right. Life hadn’t been up to much for his six-year-old daughter recently. She asked about her mother constantly — when she was coming back. Greco had tried to explain, but he didn’t have the words, and even if he had, he doubted the child would understand.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Auntie Pat? Once I get back into the thick of it there’s no turning back. It’s a big commitment. You’ve given up your independence to move here.”
“I see it as a fresh start, for us both. Make no mistake, Stephen, I need this every bit as much as you do. You can’t do the job if you’re worrying about Matilda all day long. And me,” she smiled, “I was stagnating in that village.”
He grimaced. “You’re right, as usual. But make no mistake, you’ve got the rough end of the deal. A dysfunctional depressive and a small child to look after.”
“I’m only too pleased to have a purpose again. I was going to seed. Looking after you and the little one will keep me sane.” She smiled at him.
“I don’t know about that. Matilda can run rings around the both of us. What’s more likely, is that she’ll wear you out.”
She whacked him with a tea towel. “I’m fifty-eight! There’s plenty of pep in me yet.”
Now for the ritual. Greco hated the way he was. But since his wife Suzy’s death, his OCD had become worse. He checked his reflection one more time, swept the blond hair from his forehead. He clapped the right pocket of his suit jacket. His mobile was in place. Retrieving it, he looked at the screen. Plenty of battery. Next, he picked up his wallet and badge from the sideboard. Finally, a short walk across the sitting room to the photo of Suzy, the one that stood in pride of place on the mantelpiece. Lifting it tenderly, he traced the outline of her face with his finger, then kissed it. All was in order. Time to go.
Pat called through from the hallway. “Visitor, Stephen! It’s McCabe.”
Greco pulled a face. What now? He could hear Pat at the front door. A short conversation and bursts of laughter. Moments later she reappeared with Detective Superintendent Gordon McCabe in tow.
He came straight to the point. “Morning, Stephen. We’ve got a dead ’un on Gorton Road multistorey. The call’s just come in, so I thought you and me would take a look.”
“Murder?”
“I’m afraid so. Pathologist’s taken a quick look and reckons that whoever put the poor kid out of his misery was no amateur. It looks like the Knifeman has struck again.” He grimaced.
“That makes two. He’s getting a taste for it.”
“No, Stephen, what he’s doing is getting away with it. Same method both times. Victim killed, laid out, and left without any useful evidence.”
“Knifeman?”
“Nickname the team gave him because of how the victims are despatched. This one knows what he’s doing alright. One stroke, bypassing the ribs and straight into the heart. That takes skill.”
“Got time for a mug of tea, Superintendent?” asked Pat.
“Sorry, love. We’ve got to dash.”
Greco saw McCabe taking in his aunt, his eyes sweeping over her form. He looked impressed. Pat Greco was an attractive woman, and his new boss had a reputation.
“We’ll visit the scene together. I’ll leave you and your team to find out who he was. Won’t be easy. He’s young, Asian-looking, and his clothes have seen better days. He could have been living rough. Uniform did a cursory search, but found nothing on him. Stinks of something nasty, Stephen. He looks like a drug runner, and so did the other kid. These killings look like executions to me.”
“Executions. You’re thinking gang or drug related?”
“It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. If the dead kid was carrying drugs, the lab will tell us.”
“We had gang problems in Oldston,” Greco told him as they made their way to the waiting car.
“This is a very different ballgame, lad. It’s not a few small operators hanging around some rundown estate. This is city-wide organised crime. Drug importation, prostitution, people trafficking. There are several minor villains who run things locally, but the big player in Manchester is Vincent Costello. All the local dealers get their stuff from him, and he takes a generous cut. He might live out in deepest Yorkshire but he maintains an iron grip on his operation here. Trouble is, proving it.”
“This could be an attempted takeover?”
“God help us if it is. We’ll be picking up bodies off every street corner.”
Greco hadn’t known him for long, but he was warming to Gordon McCabe. He was a ‘no frills,’ get-the-job-done type, who spoke his mind. Born and bred in Manchester, he had no edge to him. Superintendent he might be, but he had earned the position through sheer hard work. No graduate entry for him — he’d started out as a uniformed constable. But how long he’d stay in the job was anybody’s guess. He wasn’t a fit man. Overweight, with a face Greco could only describe as ‘lived in,’ he’d smoked all his life and was often breathless when climbing stairs. Greco didn’t know exactly how old the superintendent was, but he had to be in his late fifties at least.
“D’you know this part of the city?” McCabe asked as the car pulled up on Gorton Road.
“No, sir. I’m still finding my way around.”
“Most of the terraced streets round here were torn down in the fifties and sixties. The families were rehoused in them buggers.�
�� He nodded at the high-rise flats. “Modern housing was what was promised. A breeding ground for villains is what we got.”
“But there is some nice property here. Those over there for example, sir.” Greco looked at the modern low-rise blocks and new houses that spread out from the main road into the backstreets.
“Aye, those new ’uns might be alright. But there’s still a lot of poverty here. Old stuff that should be condemned — and them eyesores. That’s the Lansdowne Estate.” He gave another nod at the tall blocks. “Not a place to wander round on your own at night.”
The body was lying on the second level of the car park. A young olive-skinned, dark-haired male, flat on his back. His eyes were open, staring up at nothing. His clothing was dirty and worn. His legs were stretched out together in front of him and his arms were neatly folded across his chest. Obviously the killer had had plenty of time.
Greco was looking around. “Why wasn’t he found earlier? This is a busy car park.”
“Cheeky buggers taped off this level. Chap on the gate came up here early doors to investigate and found him.”
The pathologist at the scene was Bob Bowers, who greeted him with a smile. “DCI Greco. Congratulations! I heard about your promotion. Mind you, it’s a double-edged sword. All it gets you is more responsibility, and you’ve still got all this stuff to sort out.”
“Anything that’ll help?”
“No ID, but I might find something when I get him back. Teeth are well looked after, so dental records might give us a name in time. I plan to do the PM back at the Duggan, this afternoon at about two.”
Chapter 2
“Some of you already know DCI Greco. The rest of you met him in the pub last week,” McCabe told the team. “So don’t be shy. Give him your support. My gut tells me we’re in for a bumpy ride with this one.” He nodded at the incident board. “Introductions over. I’ll leave you lot to get on with it. The chief constable wants me for lunch.” He winked.
Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set Page 38
