THE FACELESS MAN an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detectives Lennox & Wilde Thrillers Book 2)

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “Okay, Harry, I’ll let you know when we’ve found it. He made a list of all his kills?” Jess shivered. “That’s a bit much. Glad he’s being shipped out this morning, and that I didn’t have to deal with him after all.”

  There was a knock and DI Jack Parkinson poked his head around the office door. “So this is your little hidey hole. Can’t the powers that be find you somewhere better? Bloody cold too, wouldn’t do for me.” He grinned.

  “What d’you want?” Harry asked.

  “I’ve come for your assassin,” Parkinson announced cockily. “Get him back to Manchester and interrogate him properly.”

  “We got a full statement. There’s a copy on the system.”

  “And very good it is, but there’ll be more, there always is.”

  “Are you on your own?” Jess asked.

  “I’ve got a driver waiting in the car park. Our man will be in handcuffs, of course. He’s no danger, not anymore.”

  “Just don’t lose him,” Harry warned. “We worked hard getting this far and can do without the likes of you botching it up.”

  “Me? Botch it up? That’s rich coming from you. One of yours snitched to the enemy, Harry. The assassin knew exactly where the safe house was, and then there’s the name of the operation.” He laughed. “But never worry, there’ll be an investigation. Weeks will get to the bottom of it.”

  “Not one of ours, Parkinson. Look among your own people.”

  Parkinson was still laughing when he left the office.

  “He’s a piece of work,” Harry said. “You know who he’s pointing the finger at, don’t you? Our Col. Just let him try to take it further.”

  “Calm down, it looked like he was joking to me.”

  “Parkinson doesn’t do jokes. The man’s a menace and a troublemaker.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Hugh Devereaux had passed an uncomfortable night on the narrow hard bed in his cell. He had spent the time trying to formulate an escape plan. He’d been told he was to be transferred to the Manchester station and knew this was his only chance.

  He’d expected officers, to be caged in the back of a van without windows like a wild animal. What he got was Jack Parkinson. First mistake.

  “You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you, Hugh?” Parkinson whispered as they made their way down the corridor. “Mr Calvert wouldn’t be pleased.”

  Hugh turned to look at his escort. He was grinning. This was a set-up. This officer was in Calvert’s pocket — had to be. Hugh knew that unless he acted, he’d be dead before the journey was up. It was a case of Parkinson or him.

  Parkinson sat with him in the back of an unmarked police car. Hugh wasn’t even handcuffed. Second mistake. “I know what this is,” Hugh said. “How d’you intend to pull it off? There’s a uniformed officer at the wheel who can call for help within seconds.”

  “He won’t. He’s being paid well enough.”

  So that’s how it was. He had to put a stop to this and quick. His mind was racing.

  Leaving the car park, the driver ignored the signs for Manchester and instead turned towards the road that went over the hills.

  “How are you going to do it?” Hugh asked.

  “Thought I’d take a leaf out of your book and use a blade.” Parkinson grinned. “This one, in fact.” He took a wicked-looking knife from his pocket and dragged it lightly along the side of Hugh’s neck. “In a minute we’ll be turning into a country lane. Best get all your questions asked quick, because you won’t have long once we’re there.”

  Parkinson had put the knife back in his inside jacket pocket. This was his chance. Hugh leaned across him to look out of his window and nodded. The driver wasn’t interested, he was one of Parkinson’s men and had no doubt been told to turn a blind eye to whatever he saw or heard. “This is the back way to Stockfield. I know it well, I’ve walked all over these hills.”

  It was enough. Momentarily distracted, Parkinson relaxed his guard and turned to look at the scenery. One swift move and a split second later, Hugh had the blade out of Parkinson’s pocket and in his hand. Another second and he pushed it hard into Parkinson’s chest. He didn’t even have time to scream. He simply slumped forward, the grunt that escaped his lips drowned out by the sound of Hugh loudly clearing his throat. The PC at the wheel, too intent on negotiating the twisting road, remained oblivious.

  “Pull up,” Hugh ordered.

  “Mr Parkinson said not to stop until he says so, sir.”

  “He can’t answer. Parkinson is dead, so I’m afraid you have no choice. Pull up, idiot, or I’ll slit your throat.”

  * * *

  So, Calvert had sent Parkinson to kill him. Hugh had to make this stop because there’d be others to follow. Calvert would become a persistent problem and not even he’d be able to outrun the man for ever. There was only one solution. He had to get to Calvert first.

  The idea appealed to him. That man had dished out the orders for long enough, and although Hugh was handsomely paid for what he did, it was Calvert who’d ultimately made the fortune.

  Now at the wheel of the unmarked police car and Parkinson’s warrant card tucked in his pocket, Hugh headed for Manchester and the Commodore hotel. In all the time he’d worked for Calvert, he’d never met him face to face but he’d seen photos in the press. The man wouldn’t be difficult to identify. Hugh was looking forward to this. Killing Calvert would wipe the slate clean, freeing him of the villain for once and for all. As for Parkinson and the PC — collateral damage. They worked for Calvert, had taken his money and knew the risks. The only problem where they were concerned was how long it would take their colleagues to find them.

  The reception desk at the Commodore was busy. Hugh walked straight up to one of the girls behind the desk and asked for Calvert. She was about to tell him that wouldn’t be possible when he flashed the warrant card at her. “I won’t keep him long,” Hugh said, smiling. He waited patiently while she rang Calvert’s office.

  “A DI Parkinson for you, sir.” She listened. “You can go through. Along the corridor and first door on the right.”

  So far, so good. Calvert’s office was at the front of the building overlooking the busy Oxford Road. Seated at his desk, Calvert didn’t even look up as Hugh entered.

  “I said no meetings. I hope for your sake you’ve done as I said, and this is now over.”

  “Almost,” Hugh said. “Just a little tidying up to do.”

  Calvert’s head shot up. “What the hell have you done with Parkinson?”

  Hugh could see from the look on the Calvert’s face that he’d guessed who he was. “Sadly, he’s gone the way of so many others. Pity it couldn’t have been different, but the man was hell-bent on killing me.”

  “What d’you want?” Calvert blustered. He was in his mid-fifties, heavy set with hair far too black for his age. Hugh smiled to himself. Poor bloke, clinging to his youth and failing miserably.

  “Money,” he said. “The contents of your safe will do, and you off my tail.”

  Calvert shook his head. “You’ve had all you’re getting. You’ve had a fortune off me over the years.” He waved at the door. “Now, get out of here.”

  “I don’t like your tone,” Hugh said, moving closer to him. He glanced towards the cupboard containing the safe. It was open, the safe door ajar. “Been counting your ill-gotten gains, have you, Ricky? You want to be careful who sees that.”

  “Get out before I have you thrown out. You and me are done.”

  “Not quite. You see, in my trade it doesn’t do to leave loose ends.”

  Calvert never knew what hit him. Before he had time to draw another breath, Hugh had stabbed him through the heart. Job done, he cleaned out the safe and returned to the car.

  Epilogue

  “When are they letting you out?” Harry asked.

  “They want to do more tests tomorrow,” Col said. “Providing all’s well, I’ll be discharged the day after.”

  “In that case, I’d bette
r tidy up the flat a bit.”

  “Harry, you’ve not trashed the place, have you? Please tell me it’s as I left it.”

  Harry wished he could. He was sorry but the Songbird case had taken up the last few days, leaving him no time for anything else. Added to which, Calvert’s murder had thrown everything into a spin. “It’ll only take me an hour or so to sort it.”

  “I’ll give him a hand,” Jess offered.

  Harry and Jess were eating fish and chips. Harry held out his package to Col. “Want some? Bet the food in here is crap.”

  “To be honest, I’m not hungry. My bloody arm aches and my sister Kate’s been bending my ear ever since I came in here. What with her problems and him in the next bed’s snoring, I was awake all last night.”

  “What’s wrong with Kate?” Jess asked.

  “She’s left her bloke. It’s his house, so she’s been kipping on a mate’s sofa. Basically, she needs somewhere to live.”

  Harry looked at Jess and then at Col. He knew what this meant. Goodbye shiny new flat and ordered life with Col and hello god knows what. But Col had to put his sister first, and it wouldn’t be fair not to offer. “Look, I’ll find somewhere else. I can be out of your hair by the weekend.”

  Col brightened immediately. “Are you sure? It would sort the problem if I could give her your room until she’s settled.”

  “No worries, and I’ll leave the place like a new pin.” It wasn’t a surprise. Harry had known cohabiting with his DC could only last for so long.

  Jess nudged him. “Where will you go?” she whispered.

  “A B&B somewhere, but let’s not do this here. I don’t want to make Col feel bad, he could do without the stress.”

  Jess smiled. “Tell you what. I move into my new place tomorrow. Help me move my stuff and you can have my spare room for a while.”

  Her offer was totally unexpected. “Really? I’m not dreaming, am I? You did just say that?”

  Col grinned. “I heard her too. She must have taken to you at last.”

  “I won’t forget this, Jessie. I owe you big style.” Harry was genuinely grateful. “What about that girlfriend you wanted to move in?”

  “Can’t afford it, can she? But don’t worry, I won’t let you forget what I’ve done. I’ll be charging rent too, so you’ll be paying your way.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Meanwhile, Jess was scrutinising her mobile. “She’s got some nerve. Lana Midani is all over social media, telling the world what a narrow escape she had and how her friend Dante saved her life.”

  “I think she’ll find it was us,” Col said, helping himself to some of Harry’s chips. “But now we know how she got back to London — she must have used the FLO’s mobile and called him.”

  “And like a fool he did as he was told,” Jess added. “Speaking of FLOs, what’ll happen to Thea?”

  “A file has gone to the CPS, so we’ll have to wait and see,” Harry said. “The same goes for Agnes Wright, who took a fortune in heroin and admitted she had plans to sell it.”

  “And all because of Ricky Calvert. Shame Weeks couldn’t get him to trial. I bet he regrets that one,” Jess added.

  “Who knows? He’d have fought the case anyway, blamed everyone but himself.”

  “We did have evidence though,” said Col. “The statements, for starters.”

  “True, and the IP addresses used to place adverts on that site. Sasha did a great job matching them up to Calvert’s computer. But he’d got away with it before, so if the case had gone to court, who knows what might have happened.”

  “What about Devereaux, our assassin?” Jess asked. “Who’s looking for him?”

  “Us, Europol and various agencies in the States, but I doubt he’ll be found,” Harry said, offering the chips round.

  “Who’d have thought Hugh could do such things? He seemed such a pleasant bloke,” Col said. “Had me taken in completely.”

  “He had us all taken in, Col. He actually had the cheek to send me one last text, the day he killed Calvert. He said he was sorry it had ended this way and if I valued my life, I shouldn’t look for him. That notebook of his had dozens of names listed. Manchester are checking through them, reckon it’ll help put a lot of cases to bed. Stupid to keep a record like that, but I guess some sickos like to glory in their evil. No matter what the risk.”

  “Glad I never asked him to look at my teeth,” Col smiled.

  “He was no dentist. Hugh’s identity all belonged to a dead man. But he looked the part, give him that. I can picture him in a white coat wielding a drill.”

  Harry saw Jess shudder. “He’s a one-off that’s for sure. A mystery man. Now gone into hiding, probably never to be found, but thankfully, not our problem anymore.”

  “Now I’m pleased I was saddled with looking after Thea,” Jess said. “I still think of Hugh Devereaux as that blank face on Dean’s wall. Well, he can stay that way. I’m just grateful I never actually met the faceless man.”

  THE END

  ALSO BY HELEN H. DURRANT

  LENNOX & WILDE

  Book 1: THE GUILTY MAN

  Book 2: THE FACELESS MAN

  RACHEL KING

  Book 1: NEXT VICTIM

  Book 2: TWO VICTIMS

  Book 3: WRONG VICTIM

  Book 4: FORGOTTEN VICTIM

  THE CALLADINE & BAYLISS MYSTERY SERIES

  Book 1: DEAD WRONG

  Book 2: DEAD SILENT

  Book 3: DEAD LIST

  Book 4: DEAD LOST

  Book 5: DEAD & BURIED

  Book 6: DEAD NASTY

  Book 7: DEAD JEALOUS

  Book 8: DEAD BAD

  Book 9: DEAD GUILTY

  Book 10: DEAD WICKED

  THE DCI GRECO BOOKS

  Book 1: DARK MURDER

  Book 2: DARK HOUSES

  Book 3: DARK TRADE

  Book 4: DARK ANGEL

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