“My dad played cards. He was an expert and he showed me how it’s done.” He shook his head. “You were had, mate, and there’s nowt you can do about it. Take it as a lesson learned and don’t get roped in again.”
“A bloody expensive lesson.” Quickenden had had enough. He turned on his heel without another word and left the office. He’d had enough. He’d have to find some way to teach that crazy bastard a lesson. But how did you get the better of Grady Gibbs?
Chapter 10
Greco couldn’t see Quickenden’s car in the Duggan Centre car park when he arrived. He sat for a few minutes and waited before ringing the station.
“Grace, where’s Quickenden? Has he left?”
There was too long a pause for Greco’s liking. Grace was obviously wondering what to tell him. Something was going on.
“He’s not there, is he?” he said, letting her off the hook at last. “And it’s my guess that you don’t know where he’s gone.”
“Look, sir, we’re all busy. He left, he was angry about something. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
But Greco was sure of no such thing. The man was about to use up the last of his nine lives. “In that case why don’t you meet me here? I’ll get a coffee and wait for you in the centre café.”
If Quickenden didn’t want the opportunity to prove his skills, then he wouldn’t waste any more of his time. He’d see how DC Harper got on instead. Her lateness was one thing but there was nothing wrong with her attitude towards the job, and that was what counted.
* * *
“He wants me there instead of Speedy,” she told the others triumphantly, once she’d put the phone down. “He’s gone and done it now. I’d no idea what to say. I daren’t lie, the DI would have known. I mean where the hell is Speedy? He wouldn’t really go after Geegee, would he?”
She watched Craig Merrick give an indifferent shrug, and shook her head in response. “He’s a bloody idiot. He’ll get it this time and I did warn him. Greco isn’t like Leighton, he won’t stand for it.”
“Why you? Why not ask me to go and join him?” Merrick asked.
“Because you probably can’t do plaits either,” she giggled. “I knew it would pay dividends. He needs nurturing, our new DI, then he’ll come round. He’s got to be human or he wouldn’t have such a lovely little girl.”
“Keep it real,” Merrick warned her.
“And you keep your comments to yourself.”
Grace suspected that the real reason was that Greco had recognised that she had the right attitude to the job. Speedy had pushed it once too often. Merrick was okay but he was a plodder and too fond of clinging to Speedy’s coat-tails. If she got this right, then he might include her in the exciting stuff more often. Research was all very well, but Grace enjoyed being out there, gathering the detail and learning from someone who really knew the job.
“While we’re out, try and get hold of Speedy on his mobile. Tell the idiot to get his arse back here quick, and to have his excuse polished.”
* * *
“Professor Batho?” Greco asked the receptionist.
“Along the corridor — lab number two, on the right-hand side.”
“Have you met Batho before?” he asked Grace as they walked.
“No, but he knows a friend of mine, a DC who works at Leesdon.”
“Have you spent time with him?”
“Yes, but only the once.”
Julian Batho nodded at DI Greco as he walked through the door of his lab.
“Hello again, Inspector, and . . .”
“DC Harper, one of my team,” Greco replied, introducing Grace.
“I’m glad you came. I’ve a number of results for you and I’m sure they’ll prove useful.”
Greco had worked with the newly appointed professor only once before and it hadn’t been a happy experience. The case had ended well but Greco had been sidelined by the team at Leesdon — a team led by DI Calladine, a friend of Batho’s.
But on the plus side, the professor had now moved away from Leesdon. His new job was to provide a service to any force that was prepared to pay for it. He had no particular loyalties anymore.
Batho was tall; some would say gangly, he had abnormally long arms and legs. His facial features were large, particularly his nose, but he must have something that appealed to the opposite sex because Greco knew he was seeing a particularly attractive DC at Leesdon. One thing the DI was sure of was that Batho was good at his job. He didn’t waste words, took his work very seriously and didn’t suffer fools. Theoretically, they had a lot in common.
“The blood in the boot of the sports car was bovine,” he began. “Might I suggest from a joint of beef?” he said with a rare smile.
That could make sense. Brenda Hirst had been shopping.
“More significantly, she had traces of an oily substance under her fingernails. Dirty oil, the type you’d find in a garage. If you come up with anything that you think might match, let me have it.”
He picked up the folder with the report in it and read through for a few seconds. “There was nothing remarkable about the stomach contents. She hadn’t been drinking and there were no drugs evident in her system. She was pregnant as you know and I’m still working on the foetal DNA. I’m also still working on what might have been used to take her eyes out.”
Greco was still thinking about the oil thing. Had Brenda possibly tried to defend herself against someone wearing overalls?
“Were there any fabric fibres with the oil?”
“No, and given the oil we did look.
“You’ve looked at the car, what about the phone? She received a call from someone just minutes before she died. I’ve had my team trying to find out who from but so far they’ve got nothing.”
“We’ve looked at that too, Inspector. She was called using a phone belonging to one Rose Donnelly.”
“How did you discover that so easily?”
“Because we have a department here that exists solely to find out such things,” he informed them. “In future you’d do well to hand such jobs over to us straight away and not waste time.”
Greco knew what Green would say to that. It’d do the budget no good at all. Still, this time it had paid dividends.
“Rose Donnelly is missing. I wasn’t aware that she knew Brenda but she must have done.”
“Or her phone was stolen,” Batho suggested, handing Greco the folder.
“How’s Imogen?” Grace asked, once the conversation about the forensics had come to an end. “I haven’t seen her in a while — work, the kid, you know how it is. We were at police college together. We had some fun back then, believe me.”
Julian Batho turned and regarded the young DC. “Imogen is fine. Ring her; I’m sure she’d love to catch up.”
* * *
“Back to the nick, sir?”
“Yes — we need to bring the team up to speed with what we’ve just learned, particularly about the Rose Donnelly connection.”
“What time do you collect your daughter?” Grace asked as they drove back.
“Five. Hopefully it’ll work out. If not then I’ll have to rethink.”
“It’s tricky — been there and got the T-shirt,” she said. “People don’t realise the problems one-parent families have. Your wife manages though, doesn’t she, sir?”
“Ex-wife, and she works regular hours, so her situation is different.”
“During the school holidays I sometimes send Holly to a kid’s club in town. They can stay until seven in the evening, if needs be , and they get their meals.”
Greco didn’t fancy that. Matilda was just getting used to the kids at the Duke Academy. Thrusting her into the varied mix that was Oldston wasn’t what he wanted.
“She’s a lucky girl going to the Duke. It costs a fortune and the uniform and all the stuff they need isn’t cheap either,” Grace continued.
“My ex-wife’s parents pay Matilda’s fees. It’s very good of them. Neither Suzy or I want her going to a
n overcrowded primary school where discipline is an issue.”
“The primary near me got ‘outstanding’ at the last Ofsted. She’ll have to mix with Oldston folk sooner or later.”
“Yes, but not yet. She isn’t ready. She’s completely guileless and would be an easy target for a bully.”
Grace pulled a face. “I understand that, more than most,” she rolled her eyes. “But Oldston’s not that bad, not really.”
“I still don’t think she’s ready.”
“You can’t protect her forever. Kids have to mix and learn how to cope with all kinds. I had to, I had no choice,” she admitted. “I had no well-heeled family to pay fees for me.”
“So even you had problems as a child?” He was surprised. She appeared to him to be the type who had always been able to fight her corner.
“As a kid, I was overweight,” she said. “I was picked on, called names, and I hated it. But I did fight back. Being big can have advantages,” she laughed. “Not that I enjoyed it. As I grew up I thinned out and ended up as you see me now.”
Greco admired her attitude. He’d not been so brave. The truth was he’d been bullied all through school — and that had been in rural East Anglia. He hadn’t fought back, he’d simply gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. It had been his odd habits, counting or avoiding cracks in the pavement, that had drawn attention to him. What the residents of Oldston might do to a sensitive child like Matilda terrified him. The Duke Academy was where she’d stay for now.
* * *
“A uniformed PC visited the Roberts family, sir. Apparently the problem was solved by Mr Percival Webb himself within a week of the argument,” Merrick said, reading from his notes.
“Okay — so they’d no reason to take it further. Did you get a statement from him, Constable?”
Merrick nodded and lifted a sheet from the desk in front of him. “Also Brenda stopped going to the knitting club weeks ago,” he added. “Perhaps she used it as an excuse to see Reader?”
“But Reader insisted the relationship was over,” Greco reiterated.
“He could have been lying.”
“We will have to check that but for now we have a much more important lead.” Greco told the team what he’d learned from Julian Batho — all except Quickenden, that was, who was still missing. Greco didn’t ask about him.
“When we see Rose, or when we search her place, we’ll need to look for any evidence that the two women knew each other. Because if they didn’t then we need to know who used Rose’s phone to make that final call to Brenda.”
“Rose could have lost it, sir,” Merrick suggested.
“Bit of a coincidence though, isn’t it?” George added. “We now have an address for her. She lives on the Link estate.”
“We need to go round there. If she isn’t at home then we must get access.”
“What happened to the shopping Brenda had with her when she got into Reader’s car, sir? The blood tells us it went in the boot but it’s not there now and it wasn’t littering the canal bank when we found her,” Grace spoke up.
“The killer could have taken it.” Merrick shrugged. “Her personal possessions were taken so why not her shopping too?”
“Do we have any more information about those possessions?” Greco looked at his team. No one was volunteering anything. “Craig, go and talk to Jack Hirst. Find out about her handbag, any money she was carrying, bank cards, that sort of thing. Also, something was ripped from her wrist. What was it, a watch or bracelet? Get a description.”
Greco continued, “With regards to the oil, there are a number of firms on the industrial estate down there, so we’ll start with them. I want to know who wears overalls and gets them oily. Take samples where you can and Professor Batho will analyse them.”
“Reader has a garage as well as the showroom, sir,” George told them while continuing to tap away on her computer keyboard. “It’s on that industrial estate.”
“Another reason to speak to Mr Reader again.”
“He’s at home, sir.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go next.” He nodded at Grace. “We’re dealing with a vicious killer so I don’t want anyone going off on their own. We appear to be one man down.” He sighed at Quickenden’s absence. “Grace and I will see Reader, and then we’ll go to the address we’ve got for Rose. Craig you take a PC and visit Jack Hirst and then on to the industrial estate and see what you can get. Ask if anyone saw anything on Saturday. Take those samples and pay particular attention to what the staff at Reader’s garage have to say. Note everything down.”
The office phone rang.
“Professor Batho, sir,” said George, handing it to Greco.
“It’s almost certain that the implement used to remove Brenda Hirst’s eyes was a potato peeler,” he told the detective.
“On what evidence do you base that theory?”
“There was a tiny residual trace of potato fluid on the skin around the eye sockets,” he explained. “Also the shape of the wound would fit.”
“Was this done post-mortem?”
“Thankfully, yes, Inspector — no blood.”
Greco put the phone back and was silent for a few seconds.
“Our killer used a potato peeler to gouge out Brenda’s eyes,” he told the team. He saw Grace wince. “He needs catching before some other poor soul falls into his grasp.”
Chapter 11
“Have you found the bastard yet?”
Greco regarded the woman. She looked angry. Her hair was wild, untended, and despite it being lunchtime she was still wearing a dressing gown.
“After you lot took him yesterday he came back, grabbed a few things and scarpered. Whatever you said got him rattled. He was a bag of nerves before he left.”
Greco could think of nothing they’d said that could have made him run. Reader had been quite candid about Brenda and the pregnancy, so what was going on? “Mrs Reader, Do you know where he could have gone?” The man was a damn nuisance. Now they’d have to waste time and resources trying to find him.
“No idea — unless he’s shacked up with one of his tarts.” She rubbed her face. “That wouldn’t surprise me. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Something’s happened and he’s in it right up to his neck.”
“Does he have a relative or a friend he could have gone to?”
“The bastard’s having another affair, isn’t he? I’m not daft — he’s gone to some woman. He hasn’t even rung me — just left, and never said a word about when he’d be back. He doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.”
“How do you know he’s seeing someone else?” Greco asked.
“Because the idiot’s a chronic womaniser, and I recognise the signs; that’s how I know. They’re usually blonde and stupid, but occasionally he does go off track.” She ran a hand through her unkempt hair. “So come on — who’s the sad bitch this time?”
“We can’t say,” answered Greco. “We’re here to speak to your husband. The matter he’s been helping us with is the murder of a woman in Oldston.”
At this she looked genuinely shocked and shook her head. “He’d never harm anyone, not Alex. He’s good with the chat-up lines and he can’t keep his hands to himself, but apart from that he’s harmless.”
“Did he take his car?”
“Yes, that bloody sports job he’s so fond of. Look . . .” She paused for a moment. “He’s taken his passport,” she admitted. “He won’t fly so he’ll be heading for a port somewhere.”
“Thank you, Mrs Reader. You’ve been a great help.”
Greco and Grace got back in their car. “Grace, ring the station and get Georgina to alert the ports, and the airports too. He might not like flying but he’s acting desperate. Get her to circulate Alex Reader’s photo. We need to speak to him. I want to know why he ran.”
Greco drove them back along the ring road into Oldston and then onto the Link estate. A road known as Link Road ran all the way round its circumference, and it was bus
y. People used it as a shortcut to the ring road and then onto the motorway network.
“Where does Rose Donnelly live?”
“The bottom flat in a block of five. It’s that one, sir,” she pointed. “Alderley House.”
It had started to rain; the building was constructed out of grey concrete blocks, which made it look even more drab and uninviting. The bottom flat had two plant pots on either side of the door, but the small conifers in them had died off months ago. A woman was banging on the door and shouting through the letterbox.
“Damn cheek,” she said, as Greco approached. “Two grand she’s given me, well, I don’t want her money. Blood money that’s what it is. Stupid cow thinks she can ease her conscience by bribing me with this.” She waved an envelope at them. “Well, she’s wrong. Nothing could put right what she did.”
Neither of the detectives had any idea what she was talking about.
“Do you know where Rose Donnelly is?” Greco asked.
“No. Gone off to spend some of that money of hers.” She sniffed and pushed the envelope through the letterbox. “There! She can keep her bribe. I want none of it.”
“Can I ask what all this is about?” Grace asked. “What did she give you the money for?”
The woman looked warily from him to Grace.
“It’s nothing, an old matter, goes back years. It’s something that’s sorted now, no sense bringing it up again.” She sniffed again. “Anyway, I don’t want her money. I’d do it again.”
“She paid you money to keep quiet about something?” Grace asked.
“Yes, well, no, not really, she felt guilty about the way she’d lived back then, the things she’d done and the people she’d hurt. I lived around here then so I know things. Now that she’s come up in the world she wants me to keep quiet. It’s a pay-off really”
“And she hurt you?”
Greco watched her wrestle with the reply, her face a picture of indecision.
“Yes, I suppose she did in a way, but it worked out okay, so no harm done.”
DARK MURDER a gripping detective thriller full of suspense Page 9
