Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set

by Helen H. Durrant

  “I can do without the chat, if you don’t mind. Driving is bad enough without having a verbal skirmish with you.”

  “Something’s upset you. You’re best talking about it. You know how you are. And try and remember, you’re not the only one with problems.”

  Greco felt awful. He wasn’t usually this bad-tempered, and rarely with Grace. Pat was one of the most level-headed people he knew. What she’d said to him had struck home. Suzy hadn’t loved him. Not in the way he’d wanted her to. Well, he would have to face it. Pat was right. He needed to start again.

  “I’m sorry. Bad mood. Pat gave me one of her pep talks before I left. It got me rattled, that’s all. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “What did she say?”

  Ordinarily he wouldn’t discuss his feelings, or Suzy, with anyone. But he had spoken to Grace in the past, and she knew the score. “Pat reminded me that Suzy was more than happy to find someone else, and dump me. Told me that I was wallowing in self-pity. And that I need to get on with my life.”

  Grace chuckled. “Sensible woman. Got you banged to rights.”

  “Problem is, I don’t know what to do about it. I’m a mess. I manage the job okay, but I stagger through my personal life.”

  “Try being less intense, Stephen. Chill a little. You might even have a go at enjoying yourself.”

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  She looked at him. “No I’m not. You’re young. Not bad-looking, for someone who so rarely cracks a smile. Give life a chance. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Thought I’d got it all boxed off. I’m buying the house we live in, the one Suzy was renting. Matilda is going to the local school. I’m trying to integrate, be normal, and keep things as they were for the child.”

  “And you’ll get there. Want me to drive for a bit? Coffee at the next service station. Clear your head, and then I’ll take over.”

  * * *

  The traffic was kind, and they made Brighton in just over five hours. “Our hotel is on the front somewhere,” Greco said, squinting into the sun.

  “There is a lot of front, Stephen. What’s the place called?”

  “The Whitecliffe. It’s somewhere near the pier.”

  “Great. Love Brighton pier. Me and my mum brought Holly about three years ago. We must have spent hours on there.”

  Greco pointed to a huge white Edwardian building. “That’s it.”

  “It looks very grand. This is on expenses, isn’t it?” Grace grinned. “Bet the rooms are lush. Can’t wait to give the minibar a hammering.”

  “Don’t push it, Grace.”

  The car park was at the rear. They parked up, grabbed their luggage and made for reception.

  “I asked for adjacent rooms,” Greco told Grace. “We’ll have calls to make, work to do. It makes life easier.”

  “We’re on the fifth floor.” Grace nudged him, taking the key card from the receptionist. “The lift’s over there.”

  “Busy place,” Greco noted. There were plenty of people milling about. The hotel had several bars and a large sitting room for guests.

  Grace smiled. “Coach parties. Look at the list of excursions on the board. Keeps the place going, I suppose.”

  But Greco was already on his mobile. “Amani Ali? DCI Greco, I’ve just arrived, whereabouts are you?” He stopped by a large ornate sideboard, and jotted down an address. “Okay, within the hour.”

  He turned to Grace. “You know Brighton? So you’ll know where the Lanes are?”

  “Is that where we’re going?” There was a smile on her face. “Love it there. Lots of little specialist shops and cafes.”

  “We’re here to work, Grace. This isn’t some mid-week jolly.”

  “Come on then, whereabouts on the Lanes is she?”

  “She works in an Italian restaurant. It’s open till late. We can go and see her anytime. I have the address.” He handed her the slip of paper.

  “We can walk from here. It’s only a few hundred yards over that way.”

  Chapter 10

  DI Leah Wells stood poised beside the incident board. Present for the briefing were DS Jed Quickenden, DC Joel Hough and PC Gareth Dobbs.

  “There were two more killings in the Manchester area last night, one of them on the Lansdowne. So that is definitely ours.” She circled the word ‘Lansdowne’ on the board. “The other victim was found in the toilets of the Bull’s Head pub in Chorlton. Not our area, I hear you say,” she paused. “Nonetheless, despite what the South Manchester force will say, this one is ours too. The method was stabbing. The pathologist is certain it’s the same killer that did for the two we’re already investigating. One stroke, straight to the heart. There was no ID or mobile on the man, and he was laid out in the same way. However, we do know who he was.” She wrote the name on the board, under the photo of the dead man. “Adam Crompton. That’s all we have at the moment. We will interview his wife this morning.”

  “Interesting,” Speedy said from the back of the room. “I wonder what he’d done to attract the attention of our knifeman?”

  “We have no idea,” she replied. “The killer will have been in the pub, waiting for his chance. He followed Crompton to the toilets and stabbed him there. We don’t know how long he’d been hanging around the bar area. We need to speak to the other punters, ask if they recall seeing anyone watching Crompton. There is CCTV in the car park. Joel — get on it, please. Also the roads leading away from the pub. The estimated time of death was nine thirty. We will get his phone records too, and see who he’s been in contact with.”

  “Let’s hope the boss gets something on Jamal Ali,” Speedy said. “Then we might stand a chance of piecing this together.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get there, whether Greco’s here or not,” Leah snapped, and immediately regretted it. Two killings on her watch. They would be pushed. McCabe had spoken to her earlier. He was concerned about Leah’s ability to handle the case in Greco’s absence. Her promotion to DI was recent and this was the first big case she’d taken control of. Now she was taking it out on the team. Not what she’d intended. Leah Wells was only too aware of how much she needed them. But she was terrified of missing something, of messing up and being taken to task about it.

  “The other killing?” asked Joel Hough.

  “An individual from the Lansdowne. One Joe Tanner.” Leah heard Speedy whistle and looked up. “Something to add, Speedy?”

  “Joe Tanner, otherwise known as ‘the driver,’” he told the team. “And he was employed by Slicer Shaw. Slicer isn’t allowed to drive for health reasons, so Joe Tanner takes him everywhere. The two were close. There wouldn’t be much going on in Slicer’s life that Joe didn’t know about. Very brave of whoever it was, taking out one of Slicer’s own.” Speedy chuckled.

  “At this point we have no idea why Tanner was killed. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that it isn’t the beginning of a gang war,” Leah told them. “We are short-handed for a couple days while the DCI and DC Harper are in Brighton. We will have to do the best we can. Later this morning we’ll speak to Ray Shaw. Find out what Tanner was up to last night.”

  “He’s unlikely to tell us anything useful, ma’am,” Speedy told her. “He’s well known for sorting his own problems.”

  “Nonetheless, make him a priority. I’d like to think that the two killings last night were unrelated, but my gut tells me they are. I want everything you can find on Adam Crompton. Any link to Slicer Shaw, no matter how tenuous, I want to know about it.”

  “How come we know the man’s name?” asked Speedy.

  “He was in the pub with a friend. He said in his statement that Crompton went to the loo, and when he didn’t come back he went to look for him. He’s given us the man’s address. A uniformed PC went round there last night but there was no one in. Apparently his wife has been working nights at the hospital. I’ll take a uniform and go speak to her myself.”

  “Must have been a shock, finding him like that.” Joel H
ough shuddered.

  “According to the paramedics who attended, there was blood everywhere.”

  “And Tanner, ma’am? How did he get it?”

  “Tanner was shot. One bullet in the back. Went through his heart. I will speak to DCI Greco later today and bring him up to speed. Forensics will get what they can from the bullet. We should know pretty soon if the gun has been used before.”

  Speedy picked up the Jamal Ali file off Grace’s desk. “What I don’t get is the connection. What do Ali and the other runner have to do with a man like Crompton? And Chorlton is across town from the Lansdowne.”

  “Whether we see it not, there is a link,” Leah said. “Between the lot of them. DCI Greco wanted the reporter, Rouse, interviewing again, formally this time. We know he argued with Ali. Greco thinks he may have been chasing the lad for a story.” She looked at Speedy. “Before you do anything else, bring him in, and take PC Dobbs with you. Once you’ve done that, ring me and then we’ll meet up. First we’ll visit the scene of the shooting, then we’ll speak to Ray Shaw.”

  * * *

  Speedy and Dobbs drove into the centre of Openshaw and parked up. The newspaper offices were in the shopping precinct. With luck someone would know where Rouse was.

  The girl behind the reception desk was young, pretty and seemed more interested in playing a game on her mobile than anything else. “He hasn’t rung in this morning,” she said. “He’s always like this when he’s working on a story. He will be out mithering someone for information.”

  “Shouldn’t he keep you informed?” asked Speedy. “What if he gets himself into a situation?”

  The girl looked up at him and smiled. “You know our Mr Rouse then. He has a knack of rubbing folk up the wrong way. The editor keeps on telling him, but does he listen?” She shrugged. “Can’t stand the man myself. Tony is far too full of himself. Thinks he’s God’s gift, when the truth is, he’s a first-class loser.”

  Speedy chuckled. “Harsh words. Do you know what he’s working on at the moment?”

  “Tony has been following up on information he was given about some posh clinic in Chorlton. He won’t let it drop. He is convinced there is a story there that’s going to take him to the big time. Load of bollocks, if you ask me. It just means he can make himself scarce and no one asks awkward questions.”

  “Do you know any of the details?”

  “Even if I did, it would be more than my job’s worth to blab to you or anyone else.” She smiled sweetly up at him and Dobbs. “Truth is, I know nowt, love. Tony’s like that. Keeps everything close.”

  “Is there anyone else who’d know where I can find him? It is important.” Speedy tried to charm her with a smile.

  She looked in her desk diary. “You could ask Adam Crompton. He sometimes works with Tony. He’s freelance, but Tony reckons he’s good at wheedling stuff out of folk.”

  So there was their link! Crompton knew Rouse, worked with him in fact. That fitted. Crompton had been killed in a pub not far from the Rashid Clinic. Speedy kept his expression bland. “Work together much, did they?”

  “Off and on. But they’ve been together a lot recently, as the expense claims will tell you.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No, but even if I did, I’ve already told you, I can’t say.”

  Speedy looked around. “Smart offices.”

  “Crap part of town, though. I’d much rather be in the city centre. Much more going on and there’s the shops in the dinner hour.”

  “Do you have another address for Rouse other than his mother’s? We’ve already been there, but that’s not where he lives all the time, is it?”

  “Shouldn’t really, but I suppose it’s okay, you being police.”

  It was the one Rouse’s mother had given Greco and Grace, a flat in an area of Manchester known as ‘Spinningfields.’ It looked as though a trip into the city was on the cards.

  Once he and Dobbs were back in the car, Speedy rang Leah Wells. “He’s not at work. They don’t know where he is, ma’am, but Rouse knew Adam Crompton. Crompton did research for him. Rouse was interested in the Rashid Clinic, but he wouldn’t tell his colleagues why. I’m about to try his address.”

  “Let me know if you find him. Given the location, the connection with Rouse could be the reason why Crompton was killed. Rouse may know something. We need to speak to the man as soon as.”

  That was all very well, but Leah didn’t have the city traffic to deal with. Speedy hated every journey he made into Manchester these days. Tramlines seem to sprout up overnight, leaving entire swathes of Manchester centre no-go areas for cars. And the new one-way system around Piccadilly station had Speedy tearing his hair out.

  “How the hell do folk do this every day?” he said, screeching to a halt just in time to stop them rear-ending a Mini.

  Dobbs shook his head. “Can’t understand it either. Easier to take a bus, sir.”

  They arrived in Spinningfields, outside a block of modern flats. “Reckon you have to have a bob or two to live around here,” he told Dobbs. The block Rouse lived in hadn’t been up long. Most of the apartments had balconies overlooking the river. “Rouse must be doing something right. It’s Premier League territory this.”

  Rouse lived on the seventh floor, number seventy-three. They found a man and a woman banging on the reporter’s door. “He didn’t come back last night. The poor cat will be starving,” the woman said. “You don’t know where he’s gone, do you?”

  Speedy showed them his badge. “We’re looking for him too. They told me at his office that Mr Rouse often does this.”

  “Yes, we know, but he usually leaves the key with us. We’re his neighbours, and we feed Ghost. The cat. Tony loves that cat. He’d never just leave him uncared for.”

  “Is there someone who can let us in?” asked Speedy.

  “We have a caretaker. He has an apartment on the ground floor. I’ll ring him and ask him to come up.”

  A few minutes later the lift doors opened and the caretaker appeared. He didn’t look pleased. “This is against procedure,” he told them, shaking his head. He checked both men’s badges carefully, despite the fact that Dobbs was wearing a uniform. After much handwringing on the part of the neighbours about the plight of the cat, he finally agreed to let them in.

  The apartment was so sparsely furnished it hardly looked lived in. There were no photos or ornaments, not even cushions on the leather sofa. Speedy and Dobbs went into each room in turn. The fitted wardrobe in the bedroom held a single change of clothes. It didn’t look as if Rouse spent much time here at all.

  “See him often, do you?” Speedy asked the neighbours, who’d followed him in.

  “He comes and goes. But he usually tells us. Leaves food for Ghost. He’s a busy man. He works for the paper, you know.”

  Speedy didn’t want to waste time listening to the details of Rouse’s arrangements for his cat. He wanted to find the man, interview him, then meet up with DI Wells. But there was nothing here. No mail, nor paperwork of any sort lying around that would give him a clue as to Rouse’s whereabouts.

  Speedy was about to call it a day when he stuck his head around the bathroom door. There was a hole in the tilework on one of the walls. As Speedy went a bit closer he could see a fine spray of dried blood surrounding it. It looked very much like someone had been shot in here.

  “We’ll have to seal the place off,” he told Dobbs. “Stay here and make sure no one comes in, then wait for forensics.”

  Adam Crompton had worked with Rouse. He was dead. What was the guessing that whoever had done him in had had a hand in this too?

  * * *

  “Different method,” Leah Wells reminded him. “You say it looks like Rouse was shot. Crompton was stabbed. We mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. We have no idea what went on in that flat, or if the blood is even Rouse’s. We’ll wait a while. See if he turns up, and what the forensic people have to say.”

  The two detectives had met on a piece of w
aste ground on the Lansdowne.

  “Used to be the kid’s playground,” Speedy told her. “Nothing here now. The bastards have ripped up the equipment. No doubt the metal has long since been sold for scrap.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe to leave the cars here?” Leah Wells looked around at the desolate tower blocks. “This isn’t a pool car. It’s my own.”

  “Risky, but I’ll get one of the uniforms to watch them for us.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Ground floor, number nine, Argo House.”

  They walked across the cracked, crumbling concrete pathway towards a taped-off area.

  “The shooting took place just outside the main doors to the block down there,” a uniformed PC told them as they approached. “Scenes of Crime have done their stuff. Now they’re inside the flat.”

  “We’ll take a look anyway,” Leah decided. She shuddered as they made their way along the litter-strewn deck. “Living here must be an acquired taste.”

  “Tanner won’t have needed to, ma’am. He’d lived here all his life. Slicer will have paid him well. I expect he could afford better, but this was where he felt safe.”

  “Weird, if you ask me. Slicer is bound to have enemies.”

  “Not round here he doesn’t,” Speedy told her. “Folk are terrified of him.”

  A tall man in a coverall met them as they approached. “There’s nothing inside. He was shot here, at the entrance and died where he fell.”

  “And you are . . . ?” asked Leah.

  “Doctor Greg Pentland, the Duggan Centre.”

  “Anything in the flat to suggest a motive?” she asked. “Signs of robbery, or a break-in?”

  “As I said, nothing,” Greg Pentland confirmed. “But we do have footprints from outside. We’ve taken casts. There is a series of them coming towards the doorway and then running off again in that direction.” He pointed towards Trojan House.

  “So the killer could have been waiting for Tanner to return home?”

  “It rained yesterday evening. The killer’s shoes, or more likely trainers given the prints, were covered in dirt. I’d say your killer was standing over there.” He pointed to where they had left their cars. “The ground is uneven, weeds have grown so when it rains it’s muddy underfoot. He came in this direction, shot the victim then took off that way.”