DARK HOUSES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense (4 page)

“Me and Suzy could do with finding somewhere local and decent to eat.”

“Hope you have better luck than I did. I was halfway through the pudding when I got a phone call to say that Holly had a temperature.” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t bothered much since then.”

“Who runs this place?”

“A woman called Megan Hunter. She’s okay, doesn’t stand for any bother. She’s a friend of my mother’s.”

It was three in the afternoon and, apart from a couple finishing a late lunch, the pub was empty.

Grace spoke to the woman behind the bar. “DC Harper and DI Greco. Oldston CID.”

“Jessie?” The woman’s face dropped. “I can’t get my head round it. She was only here last night, stood where you are now,” she said, nodding at Greco.

“Are you Megan Hunter?” said Greco.

“Yes. I’m the landlady.” She beamed at Grace. “You okay, Grace? Enjoying the job?”

Grace smiled back, and nodded. “What hours did Jessie work yesterday?”

“She did the lunchtime shift, twelve to four. She was back in at nine and stayed until eleven thirty. She was fine, laughing and chatting with the punters. There were no problems, nothing unusual. I just don’t get it.”

“Did she leave with anyone?” Greco asked.

“No. She did tell me earlier on that Frankie was picking her up, but then she got a text. Apparently he couldn’t make it. Had a better offer, if you ask me.”

Megan Hunter folded her arms and tucked them under her chest.

“I take it you don’t like him much?” Grace said.

“He’s flash and mouthy. He looks like class but that’s a sham, believe me. I don’t care what school he went to or how wealthy his family is — that young man is trouble.”

“Anything in particular?” Grace said.

“He started a fight in here last weekend, all over nothing. Some bloke slapped Jessie on the backside and he was off. Jumped over the table and wrestled him to the floor.”

Grace shot Greco a look. This was a side of Frankie Farr she hadn’t known about.

“He might look like a well-mannered, businessman type, but that’s just the gloss. I think that’s why he liked Jessie so much. He recognised a kindred spirit. With her he could be himself, act natural. He didn’t have to put on that front of his.” Megan Hunter winked. “The one with you looks okay, Grace. Your mother would approve.”

Grace blushed. God knows what Greco must think. They weren’t here for a drink, for pity’s sake. They were investigating a murder. “Did Frankie Farr come in here at all yesterday?” she said.

“Not as I remember.” Megan paused. “No. Last time he was in was the night before. And that night he took Jessie home. She came into work yesterday, so everything must have been fine.”

“Did Jessie spend time with anyone else yesterday? Did anyone bother her last night? Ask to meet up after her shift?”

“No, I don’t think so. We were run off our feet to be honest. Oldston United were playing at home and the ground is only down the road.”

“Thanks, Megan. You’ve been a help. We might need to talk to you again though.” Grace smiled.

“Come back anytime. And bring your dishy bloke with you!” They returned to the car.

Grace was blushing again. “Sorry about that, sir.”

“It’s okay, Grace.”

“What do you think? What she said about Frankie Farr — that’s not how I saw him at all,” said Grace.

“Megan Hunter has no reason to lie, and she sees more of him than you do. We’ll speak to him, and see what we think. Jessie’s movements yesterday seem straightforward enough. But if she wasn’t seeing Frankie and she wasn’t going home, then what was she doing on Arnold Street?”

“Even if Megan Hunter didn’t hear it, Jessie could have arranged to meet someone. Like I said at the briefing, Jessie was a bit of a man-eater. Anything in trousers . . .”

“Is it likely, given she had Frankie Farr on her case?”

“With the Jessie I knew, highly likely. She had precious few scruples and wouldn’t think twice if the offer was good enough.”

“Fancy tackling Mavis now?”

“We’ll go to the flat, and see if she’s back yet. If she isn’t, then we’d better find Frankie Farr. See what he’s got to say for himself.”

Chapter 4

Something bad, something bad
.

What did they mean, those words going round in his head? They were making him feel dizzy.
He
wasn’t helping by shaking that cereal into a bowl. If
he
thinks I can eat breakfast,
he’s
bloody mad!

“Help yourself to milk.”

“Was I here last night? I can’t remember.”

The man laughed, and carried on sorting breakfast.
He
shouldn’t laugh. It was getting him confused. Neville didn’t know what was funny anymore. He still hadn’t worked out if this man was real. He looked real, but then they all did. His world was populated by shadowy figures — some spoke, some didn’t. Some said they would help him . . . all this one did was give him pills.

Neville stared at him, trying to work it out. Could he trust his own mind? Well, the short answer to that was
no
. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of
him
, touch real flesh. The urge made his palms itch. But he was scared. What if
he
wasn’t real? What then? Neville didn’t even know
his
name. He didn’t even know when
he’d
appeared in his life, or how.

“I’m surprised you need to ask that.”

“The voices were playing up again. They were at me all night. They wanted me to do something bad.” Neville lowered his voice. “I
have
done something bad. I must have done. They don’t give up, those voices. If I don’t do what they want, they don’t go away. They bellow away inside here.” He pointed to his head.

“You had a good time, though. Didn’t I say we’d have fun?”

“When was that?”

“A while ago.”

“It was bad fun. I hurt that girl.”

“Make sure you take your pills properly today.”

“What good will they do?” Does
he
really think they do any good? “You do believe me. I’m not telling lies. I went somewhere last night and I did something real bad.”

He
had that look on his face. “You know, don’t you? You know what I did.”

“Yes, I know,”
he
said at last.

The relief. Neville closed his eyes and lets it wash through him. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.
He
was real — the man. Neville had done those things. He remembered now. He wasn’t going mad after all.

“You’re all over the papers.”
The man slapped down the latest edition of the
Herald
on the table. “You’re famous. You, of all people. Imagine that.”

“Will I like being famous?” Neville wasn’t sure. Could a person be famous for doing those bad things?

“Depends whether they catch you or not.”

Neville tried to read what it said. But the words moved and blurred in front of his eyes. “They haven’t put my name. Shall I tell them?”

The man looks at him steadily. It made Neville nervous.

“Not yet. Better keep quiet for now. You haven’t told anyone else, have you?”

“No. Only you. I trust you.”

“Trust.”
He
pulled a face. “Dangerous that. You shouldn’t trust anyone.”

“I want to do it again. The voice keeps telling me to. It never stops. It’s in here all the time.” Neville banged his head with the flat of his hand. “Will you sort it?” He smiled at the man. “You know about that too, don’t you? You know I can’t stop.”

“What did you do to that girl, Neville?”

“I hurt her. I hurt her bad and I . . . you know.” He sniggered. “She had no clothes on. I couldn’t help it.”

“I said I’d give you a girl of your own. Stick with me. I keep my promises.”
He
clapped Neville on the back. “But you did more than hurt her. She’s dead, according to the papers.”

“I didn’t want to kill her. Just her heart. The voice said she’d never love me. I had to do something. The voice wouldn’t let up. It kept on and on about how she’d leave me. How she’d go off with someone else. I couldn’t let her cheat on me. She’d make me unhappy. I had to do it.”

“Kill a heart, you kill a person. That’s how it works, Neville.”

“I didn’t know.”

“What are you doing today?”

“Are you going to take me out?”

“No. I’ve got to work. You should stay here. Stay inside and don’t speak to anyone.”

“Will they come and take me away?”

“Not if you keep your head down.”

“I want to see Edna. She makes me feel safe. Edna will know what to do.”

“Bad idea.”

“The voices say I must. She’ll know what to do. That’s what the voices say.”

“Sod the voices! I’m telling you to stay in and lock the doors. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll shop you to the bloody police myself.”

* * *

“What’s with the boss taking Grace and not you?” DC Craig Merrick asked Speedy.

“Don’t give a toss what he does. The less I have to do the better, mate, especially with him. I’m sick of the job to be honest.”

Jed Quickenden had been at the briefing but he’d hardly heard a word. He had paid attention only to Grace. He’d been lusting after her for months, but she completely ignored him.

“Come off it, Speedy, you don’t mean that. People will forget the Geegee business and things will settle down, you’ll see.”

“If there’s one thing I know about the folk around here it’s that they’ve got long memories. No one is ever going to trust me again. I grew up in this town, now half of it avoids me.”

“They don’t like me much either.” Merrick grinned.

He knew that the younger man looked up to him for some reason. “That’s because you’re a copper, stupid,” said Quickenden, slapping the back of Merrick’s head. “They didn’t mind me because I used to be like them, a bad boy. Now I’ll be lucky to reach my next birthday.”

“Don’t be daft. No one would dare do you any harm. Grady Gibbs wasn’t that powerful. He had his enemies too.”

“Then there’s all the other people who were upset — the Hussains for a start. They won’t be best pleased now their lucrative little import business has been snatched away.”

“You need to chill, get your head together. You’ve got time owing, take it. Get away somewhere hot.”

“Greco will never allow that.”

“Go above his head. Ask Green. Tell him how you feel.”

“He’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

“If you ask me, that’s exactly what’s happened,” Merrick said. They were pulling into the shopping centre car park in Oldston.

“Don’t you go saying anything.” Speedy poked his arm. “I’ve got enough on my plate without Greco on my case.”

“Harvey & Sons are over there.”

“Better get this over with,” said Quickenden.

Andrew Harvey, the owner, was a small, bald man wearing round glasses. He flitted about the office, tweaking pictures of houses and straightening piles of brochures while he talked.

“I’ve had the owner in. Shocked he was. He saw her, you know. Said it was a sight he’d never forget. Dreadful, was how he described it.”

“We need to know who has viewed the place — say in the last month,” Speedy said.

“That’s easy. No one,” said Harvey. “It needs far too much work. It’s riddled with damp and needs a complete rewire. The whole street should be pulled down and rebuilt. None of the sales on that street have gone through. Once a surveyor’s had a look, the price drops like a stone. That one, number eight, needs a shedload of work and the owner won’t listen.”

“So there’s been no one at all, not even an enquiry?” Speedy said.

“I’ll check, but I’m fairly sure.”

He sat at his desk and accessed a file on his computer. “Asking far too much and won’t drop. With all that work required — well.” Harvey held out his arms, palm up. “I have told Mr Rahman, but he’s adamant.”

“Can I have the owner’s address, please?” Speedy said.

“I shouldn’t, not really.”

“We are police officers. We can find out by other means, but it would save us some time.”

Harvey shrugged and sent the information to the printer. “Here you are, but you’ll be lucky to find him. He got a shock yesterday and I believe he’s gone to see relatives in Birmingham. He’s left the keys with me.”

“Who has access to them?”

“We keep all the vendors’ keys in the safe, Sergeant. If there’s an enquiry, then one of us takes them to do the viewing. But like I said, there’s been no one.”

“And keys to the safe?”

“Only me.”

“If anyone does enquire about the house, you will let us know?” Speedy handed him his card and they left.

“Looks like we need to knock on a few doors,” Merrick said.

“What’s the betting that’ll be a waste of time too?”

“Whoever did this isn’t invisible, Speedy. He’ll have made a mistake somewhere along the line. All we have to do is find it.”

“You sound more like him every bloody day.” Speedy turned and walked back to the car.

* * *

“It’s a long way up,” Grace said. “Twelfth floor, and a half-hearted lift.”

“I think I’m fit enough to make it,” Greco said sarcastically.

“Do you still run?”

“Try to. Apart from the exercise being good, it clears my head.”

“Wish I could find something that cleared mine. I do the job all day and see to Holly most of the night. She’s not sleeping well at the moment. She keeps having nightmares.”

“Matilda sleeps like a log, always has. Suzy says she’s the only child she knows who actually asks to go to bed.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“Suppose I am. I don’t realise it half the time,” he said, smiling.

Up on the twelfth floor, Greco banged on the Westons’ door. There was no answer. Grace peered through the dirty window.

A woman stuck her head out of the next door along. “None of them are in. He went out earlier, with the cops I think, and he hasn’t come back. She’s been gone most of the week and Jessie will be working.”

So the news hadn’t reached the Link yet.

“If Mrs Weston comes back, would you ask her to ring us, please?” Grace handed the woman a card.

“Best of luck with that one, love,” said the neighbour, and went back inside.

“What now, sir?”

“We’d better go and talk to Frankie Farr.”

Grace drove out to Farr Construction. The builders’ yard and offices were in a new industrial estate on the outskirts of Oldston.

“Is Mr Farr in?” Grace showed her badge to the receptionist. “DI Greco and DC Harper from Oldston CID.”

The woman eyed them suspiciously from behind her desk. “Is this about the car?”

“No,” Greco said. “Why? Has something happened?”

“It was stolen. Last night. Young Mr Farr’s pride and joy. He’s gutted.”

“Is he here?”

She got up and knocked on a door to one side of the reception desk. They were admitted straight away.

“Found my car?” Farr said.

He was tall, good-looking and dressed in a designer suit. Grace guessed he must be about her own age. He had jet black hair and was clean shaven. His nose was slightly misshapen. It must have been broken at some time. Grace wondered if it was a sporting injury or perhaps it had happened in a fight. Maybe there was something to what Megan Hunter had told them.

“We’re here about Jessie, Mr Farr.”

“Well,
she
didn’t take the thing.” He walked over to the window. “It should be parked right there. Some bastard’s going to suffer for this. That car cost me a fortune.”

“Mr Farr, Jessie has been murdered,” Grace said. “Sometime last night, after she finished work at the Crown.”

He spun round and stared at them. His mouth hung open, and his dark eyes narrowed almost to pinpricks. “You’re joking!”

Greco shook his head. “Sadly not. She was murdered.”

“That can’t be right. Who’d want to murder Jessie?”

“Did you see her at any time yesterday?” Grace said.

Frankie Farr took a bottle of brandy from a cupboard. He poured a generous slug into a glass, and then sat down. He looked close to tears. “I couldn’t. I had meetings all day. Last night I had to go to a family thing. My mother’s birthday, so I couldn’t pick her up.”

“Did you usually pick her up?”

“Whenever I could. I have a flat in that new block by the canal. Jessie liked it there, so she often stayed over. I wanted her to move in properly, but she wouldn’t leave her brother.”

“Did you text her or phone?” Grace said.

“We texted all the time.” He gulped down the brandy. “She said it was what got her through the day. Well, me too, if I’m honest.”

“Did she seem upset about anything? Did she say if anything was bothering her?” Grace said.