Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set

by Helen H. Durrant

  Craig Riley picked up the lump of glass and grinned. “Seen these on that antiques programme my granny watches on the telly.” He tossed it casually from one hand to the other until the inevitable happened. There was a resounding crash and the vase shattered on the wooden floor, sending splinters of orange glass all over. “Oops! Silly me, slipped through my fingers.”

  “Shut it, Craig!” Vinny Holt snapped back. “You’ll have the neighbours round.”

  “All at work, bro. Made sure, did my research. All this road is out during the day. Wage slaves, the bloody lot of them. We can take as long as we need.”

  “Where is it then, d’you reckon?” Vinny asked.

  “Could be anywhere. We’ll start down here, and work our way up.”

  “It don’t look like a dealer’s gaff to me.”

  “The tip-off was sound,” Craig assured him. “You search in there.” He nodded at the kitchen.

  This was a woman who liked simplicity. There wasn’t much furniture. In the sitting room, Craig began to look through the few drawers there were. In a carved wooden box he found a stash of jewellery and a bundle of notes. “Jackpot! Must be about a grand,” he called out to Vinny.

  “There’s bugger all in here,” Vinny called back from the kitchen. “Not even much food. Are you sure this is where she spends her time?”

  “Look, I’ve told you. The stuff is here. But we have to find it fast. We won’t get another chance. The bitch is sure to shift it soon.”

  The two lads both had slight, wiry frames and were dressed similarly, in trackie bottoms and a hoodie. They paid little respect to the furniture or the pride the owner obviously took in the place. The perfect house made them look even more scruffy and shifty as they slouched around.

  “I’ll do upstairs,” Vinny decided.

  Vinny Holt ran up the carpeted staircase. There were three bedrooms. He went into the largest. There was a huge bed, fitted wardrobes and drawers, all done out in the same cream and gold as downstairs. After about five minutes, he shouted down to his mate. “Nowt much up ’ere. Drawers full of clothes, can’t find any more jewellery.”

  Vinny went to one of the wardrobes and pulled open the doors. “Found a safe,” he yelled down to Craig. He got down on his knees and tried to open it.

  Craig came into the room and knelt down beside him. “You won’t get into that without the combination. You’re wasting time. We need to crack on. Have a look in the other rooms.”

  “Smart place, this. Wouldn’t mind one like this myself one day. What does she do, this bird?” Vinny asked.

  “She works for a transport firm in town. She has an office in some posh block near the Quays. Stuck-up cow she is an’ all.”

  “There’s nowt in the bedrooms. There’s no attic either.”

  Craig shook his head. “Where would you stash it?”

  “Garage, cellar, somewhere folk don’t usually go.”

  Craig tossed Vinny a small cloth bag containing the jewellery he’d found. “What d’you reckon to that little lot?”

  “Some nice pieces. We should get a bob or two for these.” A small ring caught his eye, a band of gold with a diamond inlaid at its centre. Vinny picked it out and slid it onto his little finger.

  “C’mon, let’s see where else we can find.”

  Vinny handed Craig the bag. “Back way, like we came in.”

  The two lads retraced their steps. They crossed the kitchen floor and found the utility room by the back door.

  “Wonder if she’s got booze in that fridge?” Craig nudged his mate. “She has expensive taste, might even be some of the bubbly stuff.” The fridge was a huge thing, standing floor to ceiling in a corner.

  “Leave it, Craig. We should check out the garage and then get out of here.”

  But Craig wanted a beer. He pulled the door open. There was no food or drink inside. On every shelf were three or four polythene packets, each one about thirty centimetres square. “Bingo! We’ve found it. This is what we came for.”

  Vinny already had a packet in his hands and was pulling at one corner. Very gingerly, he tasted a tiny bit of the brown powder inside. “Heroin. The bitch has a bloody fortune in heroin stashed in here.”

  “How d’you know?” Craig asked.

  “Because I’ve dealt the stuff and know the taste.”

  Craig grinned. “Told you the info was sound. He said she was dealing.”

  “Dealing! Look at the stuff. This is more like trafficking. We don’t hang about, mate. We take the gear and get out of here before we’re caught,” Vinny urged.

  Craig pointed to a carrier bag hanging up behind the back door. “Pass us that. And stop stressing, there’s plenty of time.”

  Vinny didn’t move. “We’re taking one mega risk. What if her place is being watched? This little lot could get us into a heap of trouble.”

  “Only if we’re caught. Concentrate on the payoff, mate. We are going to be minted once this little lot is passed on.” Craig grinned.

  “Not minted enough for the risk we’re taking. We deserve more than the measly share we’ll get. We should keep some back, sell it ourselves,” Vinny suggested. “It would make us a packet round the estate.”

  “No, all it’d do is bring us trouble.” Craig’s voice was firm. “Put the stuff in the bag!”

  “What if we’re caught with this little lot?” Vinny asked. “What if the law is watching this gaff?”

  “No one is watching,” Craig assured him. “Don’t lose it now, Vinny lad. All we have to do is get back and continue with the plan. Piece of cake.”

  “The people this bitch messes with must be real hard nuts. We don’t want them on our backs. For all we know, one of them is keeping an eye on the investment.”

  “I’ve had an idea that’ll get us some insurance.” Craig slapped Vinny’s cheek lightly. “We get this bagged up, then we scarper, but we leave a few packets behind.”

  “What d’you mean? Why would that work?”

  “You take a photo of the gear left in the fridge, then text it to someone along with this address. There’s your insurance,” said Craig.

  “Text it to who?” Vinny asked.

  “The police, anonymously.”

  Vinny stared at him.

  “They come round ’ere, find the stuff, and that’s us in the clear. Once the coppers are involved, everyone else will back away. The bitch that lives here will be arrested. The stuff will be too hot to handle, even for the hard nuts she’s mixed up with.” Craig folded his arms.

  “Will that work?” Vinny asked.

  “Look, soft lad, it’ll work a treat. We’ll be free and clear. No one will ever know that we had owt to do with it.”

  “Okay, but let’s get gone. Best thing we can do is get this back and forget we were ever here.” Vinny looked at the few packets Craig hadn’t touched. “Shame though.”

  Craig shrugged. “Insurance, mate. We need it. And we don’t tell a soul. Not even our Callum.”

  “Thought you might have brought him along.”

  “Brother or not, he can’t be trusted,” Craig said. “There’s too much at stake. Besides, Callum has got himself roped into something at the centre today.”

  The lads legged it down the road to their car.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t say owt,” Vinny assured Craig. “But what about the money and other stuff we took? Won’t your Callum wonder where you got the dosh from?”

  “If he asks, I’ll say I had a win on the dogs.”

  Vinny still looked worried. “What if that stuck-up bitch goes to the police after all?”

  “That was heroin in the fridge, mate, not a bloody four pack! She wouldn’t dare.” Craig nudged him.

  “I know what you said about insurance. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this. We’ve taken a fortune in heroin. Someone is bound to come looking. Think about it, Craig. This bird has got to be mixed up in some pretty heavy stuff if she’s got this much stashed away. We could have anyone on our backs.”


  “You send the cops that picture with the address. They’ll know what to do, then we’re free and clear. You worry too much, that’s your trouble.”

  “I took a pic of the house too,” Vinny admitted.

  “What for?”

  “I’ve texted it to Marshy in case something goes wrong. Like you said, insurance.”

  Craig shook his head. “Waste of time. Marshy is an idiot.”

  Chapter 2

  Ava Whitton turned her dark eyes to the boardroom clock. Why did these meetings have to drag on so? Martin had been speaking almost non-stop for half an hour now. Unless someone interrupted him, he would rabbit on for the duration. She should leave. Ava had felt her phone vibrate in her jacket pocket ten minutes ago. Someone wanted her badly enough to ring during office hours. Not allowed.

  “Martin?” Ava finally ventured.

  Martin Greyson was the managing director and owner of the transport firm, Greyson Logistics. His word was law. He wanted to say something, you let him. Ava had just had the temerity to stop him mid-flow. All eyes turned her way.

  “I have to go. Sorry, emergency at home.” Ava rose to her feet, without waiting for him to agree. No doubt her colleagues would be wondering how she could possibly know about this emergency. She’d been sat at this table along with the rest of them for most of the afternoon, analysing Martin’s strategic plan for the company. “You can contact me at home if necessary.”

  The sooner she left this job and these people, the better. But for now, it suited her purpose to play the part of the businesswoman who knew her stuff. Ava Whitton was tall and slim. She wore simple clothes to work, usually black. Her suits were always from top designers. She had a reputation for being aloof and unsympathetic. Balls-up at work and you would get nothing from her but scathing criticism. Ava was not the type of woman you confided in during lunch in the staff restaurant.

  There was no ring on her finger, and she never mentioned any relationship. Ava didn’t confide or speak about her personal life to anyone at work. Her women colleagues didn’t like her. The men found her intriguing, despite her faults — or maybe because of them. She was very attractive. If she smiled more, she would be stunning. She had high cheekbones. Her pale blonde hair was pinned in a neat pleat at the back of her head, accentuating the shape of her face. Ava wore little make-up, a subtle perfume, high heels, and seemed always to have her nose in the air. These were the ingredients that made up her work persona.

  Out in the corridor, Ava checked her mobile. It had not been a call. The vibration had been set off by an app that warned her when there was a problem at home. She had a couple of concealed cameras in her property that recorded footage that she could download onto her phone or laptop. Any time the cameras were activated by motion, she received a notification.

  There had been a break-in. Ava watched wide-eyed as the two lads walked through her house and rifled through her things. They found her box containing the cash and jewellery. They went to the bedroom, then the wardrobe. They knew exactly what they were doing. She watched them try to open the safe. It made her angry, and she wanted to lash out because she was helpless. Given the circumstances, she could not even call the police. Her personal property and cash was one thing, but as she watched them open the fridge in the utility room, Ava realised she had a real problem.

  * * *

  PC Hough handed DS Jed Quickenden a printout “Got a strange one. Came in this morning. Could be the work of some joker, but on the other hand . . .”

  DS Quickenden, universally known as ‘Speedy’ to his friends and colleagues, had transferred from the station in the town of Oldston to the serious crime squad on the outskirts of Manchester along with DCI Stephen Greco. He was good at his job, occasionally very good, which was why Greco had wanted him on his team. But the DS was also known to cut corners. This shortcoming had on occasion put him in danger. However, lately, he’d knuckled down and was expected to try for promotion soon.

  Speedy took the printout and looked it over. “Drugs? Pretty good mock-up, if that’s what it is. Where did this come from?”

  “Someone texted it in this morning, along with an address. I’ve written that on the top.”

  “I’ll tell the boss. We’ll go and have a look,” Speedy said.

  Speedy took the stairs two at a time and entered the incident room on the first floor. Greco wasn’t in his office — he’d gone to Manchester Central for a meeting. As for DC Grace Harper, the other member of the team, he’d no idea where she was. Grace had been frequently absent of late. She hadn’t said why, and no one else had made much of it, which in this place was odd. He made for DI Leah Wells’ desk and placed the paper in front of her. “What d’you think? Front desk just gave it to me. Bloody good if it’s someone’s idea of a joke.”

  Leah Wells cast a critical eye over the image. “You’re thinking drugs?”

  “It certainly looks like it,” Speedy replied.

  “There could be anything in those packets. But then again . . . ? How did we get this?”

  “Arrived in the early hours of this morning. Image, address, we’ve even got the mobile phone number it came from. Downstairs have done the research, and got the address of the phone’s owner. It’s on contract to a bloke called Vinny Holt. Amateur, got to be.” Speedy laughed. “No professional would make such a simple mistake.”

  “So, what’s he been up to, this Mr Holt? And how come he was able to take this photo?”

  “Want me to go and find him, ma’am? See what his game is?”

  Leah Wells looked at the picture again. “Yes. Take DC Hough with you. Find Vinny Holt and have a word. Make sure he tells you where he took this. A visit to the address where they took the photo may or may not be necessary. It might be one huge joke. But if it isn’t, and if there is any reluctance to let you in, ring me straight away.”

  “It’s probably nothing. Some joker wanting to see us at it, chasing our tails.”

  “If it is, then we’ll have him for wasting police time,” Leah said. “We’ve got quite enough to do without that sort of thing.”

  She was his only company. Speedy knew he’d find Joel Hough in the canteen, having breakfast. “Grace not in yet?” he ventured.

  Leah checked her watch. “No, but she won’t be long.”

  The fact that Grace hadn’t been taken to task about her recent absences made Speedy suspicious. He reckoned she was after another post somewhere else. He didn’t blame her. Since she and Greco had got back from Brighton a few months ago, their relationship had been strained. Not getting on with the boss was a biggy for Grace. Not that Greco appeared to care. The bloke seemed pleased enough to be left alone. But the atmosphere in the main office had been strained lately. Where Greco was concerned, it was bad enough when everything was going smoothly. But recently, they really had to watch their step.

  When Joel returned to the office, Speedy handed him the printout. “Come on, Joel, get your coat. Might be nothing, then again, we might have the deal of the century on our hands.”

  “Does Greco know?”

  “Shouldn’t think so. Better things to do, hasn’t he?”

  “Have you checked Vinny Holt on the system?”

  “Not yet.”

  Joel sat at his computer to do the search. “Petty theft. Robbery, nothing too valuable and no violence. Mixes with Craig Riley. Couple of small-time villains, the both of them.”

  “Out of their comfort zone now then, aren’t they?”

  Chapter 3

  “Sorry, heavy traffic on the bypass,” Stephen Greco said. He sat down next to Grace in the waiting room.

  He glanced at Grace. She seemed to have accepted his apology. But the truth was, he’d deliberately taken his time. This was the day he’d been dreading. After today, what had happened between him and Grace would have a reality he wasn’t ready for. Grace’s pregnancy had thrown him almost as badly as Suzy’s death. Greco didn’t cope well with major changes. He needed routine. In order to function properly
, he had to lead a strictly organised life where everything and everybody had a place. Grace’s place was as a DC on his team. Not as the mother of his child.

  It was ante-natal day and the small waiting room was crowded. Women in all stages of pregnancy sat and chatted. Some had their partners with them, others were alone.

  “They’re running late, so I’ll let you off. You have been to one of these before?” Grace passed him a leaflet.

  “Yes.” He took the leaflet from her and slipped it into a small leather folder. “I went to all the scans when Suzy was pregnant with Matilda.” What he didn’t say was how very different that experience had been. He and his then wife, Suzy, had been thrilled to discover they were having a baby. Matilda had been welcomed into a home and family that loved her and wanted only to make her happy. Greco had no idea what he felt about this unborn infant. He wasn’t even sure how he felt about Grace.

  “Don’t expect to see much. It’s only the three-month one. Next time we might get to find out what sex it is.” Grace looked at him. “If you want to know, that is?”

  She’d picked up on his unease. He couldn’t help it. Her being pregnant was a nightmare he could do without. And he was no good at feigning happiness.

  “I don’t mind, but it’s fine with me if you do.” Greco knew that he didn’t sound enthusiastic. Knowing whether Grace was carrying a girl or a boy wasn’t important to him. Just having to attend clinic was an inconvenience he didn’t need. She was twelve weeks already, and still only the two of them knew. That situation couldn’t continue for much longer.

  “You could try a bit harder, Stephen. We agreed that this would be a joint effort — remember? If you’re having second thoughts, let’s hear them. Only it’s getting a bit late to change our minds.”