Read The Faceless for Free Online Page A

imaginary hat. He thought of the duck he’d bought from Kempforth Market for his lonely Christmas dinner, the rest of it, like as not, lasting him the week. More than enough for two. He almost said something. Then didn’t. There was always enough for two, and only one to eat it. Ever since Laney. “Got him owt for Christmas?”
    “Didn’t have time. Had a shufti round Waterstone’s in Manchester, but I couldn’t move for pictures of Allen Cowell.”
    “That prick .”
    “Whoa. Easy Mike.”
    “Sorry. Can’t stand his sort. Bloody parasites, feeding off people’s grief.”
    “OK.”
    “Sorry.” There was silence between them for a spell; Stakowski broke it. “Joan...”
    “What?”
    “Why do you think you’ve got this case?”
    “They’re short-staffed.”
    “The real reason.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    “Think it’s a coincidence you get this one after damn near working yourself into the grave on the Baldwin case? Right before you’re due to go on leave? Banstead’s not stupid. He knows this kind of case pushes all your buttons. So he gives you this. This one.”
    “There’s the other one, too – Dave McAdams’ case.”
    “But he makes sure this is the one you hear about first. Get briefed on first. Another Julie Baldwin.”
    “Mike...”
    “Look – what state were you in when you got posted here?”
    Renwick looked down. “You know better than anyone.”
    “Yeah. Bloody mess would be putting it kindly. Pissed every night, hungover every morning, and towing some real specimens back home with you at the end of the night.”
    “Do you mind?”
    “Stop me if I’m wrong.” No answer. “You were going great guns back in Manchester – transfer to CID, recommended for promotion to DS within a year of that – cos of your work on another case involving kiddie-fiddlers, as I recall–”
    “Yeah.”
    “And then...”
    “And then Mum died and I went off the rails. Thank you for reminding me.”
    “There’s a point.”
    “Then make it.”
    “Look... lot of people had written you off back then. But look at you now.”
    “Thanks. I think.”
    “You’ve done bloody well. But sooner or later the ones like you all bugger off back to big city. ’Cept you didn’t. Even when you made DCI . You’ve already turned down one post back in Manchester. Plum job too, I believe.”
    “How the hell did you find out–”
    “I’m a detective, boss. You should try it sometime.”
    “Piss off.”
    “Point I’m making is here you are going up, up and away, and you’re not leaving Kempforth. There’s only one more rank between you and Banstead.”
    “He thinks I’m after his job?”
    “Or that the powers that be’ll start thinking it’s time he hung his boots up. But there’s a reason the Bedstead’s been Divisional Commander this long.”
    “Age and treachery will always defeat youth and idealism?”
    “Summat like that, but I wouldn’t use all those long words.”
    “There’s a surprise.” Pause. “You think he’s trying to set me up.”
    “I know the bastard.”
    “So what am I supposed to do? Pull a sicky? Say I’ve got this flu that’s going round?”
    “You could.”
    “No I couldn’t.”
    Stakowski smiled. “No.”
    “What then?”
    “Watch your back.”
    “How about you watch it for me?”
    “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
    Renwick nodded, sipped her coffee. “So... what’s a Spindly?”
    “Eh?”
    “On the interview. She said she thought it was a Spindly, in the bushes. The hell’s one of them when it’s at home?”
    “We had a report, Monday afternoon. Between three and six individuals faffing round the playground at Primrose Hill Primary, looking in through windows, banging on the glass. Scared hell out of the kids.”
    “And?”
    “Kids started calling them the Spindly Men. And it’s caught on. Since Monday there’ve been reports flying about left and right.”
    “Any actual criminal offences?”
    “Nowt we can pin down.”
    “So? Older kids