Desolate Hearts

by Robin Roughley

  'Look, I've been over it a dozen times, it was Jackie who came up with the…'

  'You've been talking about all this with your girlfriend?' he asked in a low growl of disapproval.

  'Yeah, I have,' Lasser replied.

  Bannister opened his mouth to read the riot act and then his shoulders slumped. 'Sounds as if she's a bright woman.'

  'She is, and I trust her completely.'

  'Fair enough, but I don't know how Odette will react when we tell her.'

  'Neither do I, but it has to be done, Lanark described Plymouth in detail – which is fair enough – but I don't see how Plymouth could have been standing on the path, there were no footprints, nothing at all.'

  'Perhaps the snow covered his tracks.'

  'You arrived half an hour after we put the call in, you came down the ginnel from the town centre and…'

  'The snow was full of tracks leading to the cenotaph and then to the church doors.'

  'Exactly, there were four of us there and we didn't move from the front of the church until you arrived, so if the snow had covered Plymouth's tracks then it would have done the same to the ones we made.'

  Bannister's face turned deadly serious as he nodded in agreement. 'OK, but why would he give us a description that matches Plymouth, what would be the bloody point in the first place?'

  'I have no idea, but it proves that Lanark knows Plymouth, or knows of him.'

  Bannister glanced out at the snow, his lips pursed. 'It still doesn't explain why he would give us a description, why he would want us to think that Plymouth was here in town and cutting off heads?'

  'Yesterday, Dorothy Marsh admitted that she had seen a white transit-type van driving away from the farm just before she found her husband dead in the snow.'

  'What!?' Bannister snapped, his face slowly turning the familiar red colour.

  Lasser held up at hand and Bannister fell silent as Lasser filled him in on the details about Dorothy's genuine fear that she could have been going against God's wishes by telling him about the van.

  'And the truth is I just can't picture Plymouth riding around in a van.' Lasser finished.

  Bannister didn't look convinced, he looked up to the heavens while he thought it over. 'Perhaps I should give Odette a ring and get her over here, then we can get this sorted.'

  'If you do that, she'll feel backed into a corner.'

  'That can't be helped, her boyfriend is a bullshitter and she deserves to know.'

  'What if we hang fire for a bit?'

  The scowl on the DCI's face grew deeper. 'What do you mean?'

  'Look, what do we actually know about the guy?'

  'Bugger all,' Bannister admitted.

  'If we grill him then he could act dumb, and let's face it he's done nothing else wrong as far as we know, but there has to be a reason for him to be doing this.'

  'Jesus, Lasser, are you saying we should tell Odette and then ask her to spy on the bugger?'

  'We don't have to tell her.'

  Bannister took a backward step, his eyes narrowing. 'That will go down well when she finds out we had our suspicions about the man in her life and said fuck all.'

  Lasser felt his own cheeks start to heat up with shame. 'You're right, it's a shit idea.'

  Bannister grunted before swiping a hand across his hair, his face torn with indecision. 'OK, here's what we'll do, I'll give her a ring, and we'll meet at the station and tell her of our suspicions.'

  'No worries.'

  Bannister looked out towards the snow-covered garden. 'If Lanark is a liar then Odette will be bloody crushed, it will mean he's just been using her for some reason.'

  Bannister's words seeped into Lasser's mind and he shifted his feet, moving closer to the patio heater even though it wasn't turned on. 'Perhaps he wants the lowdown on Plymouth,' he mused.

  Bannister pulled out the cigarettes and then changed his mind. 'What are you talking about?'

  'Ring Odette now and tell her to get to the station.'

  'Hang on, Lasser, a couple of minutes ago you wanted to keep her in the dark and…'

  'You were right, if Lanark is after information about Plymouth, how did he know to target Odette?'

  Bannister's face clouded over with sudden anger as he lifted the phone from his pocket and tapped at the screen.

  Lasser listened as the phone started to ring.

  'Breakfast is ready.'

  The two men turned and smiled at Jackie before she quickly vanished back into the warm house.

  'Hi, I'm sorry I'm not available at the moment, if you'd like to leave your name and number, I'll get back to you.'

  Lasser felt the unease inside swell into genuine concern.

  'Odette, it's me, can you give me a ring ASAP,' Bannister said into the phone before ending the call, his face a perfect match for Lasser's.

  They looked at one another, seeing the uncertainty in each other's eyes, their appetites vanishing; half a second later, there was a tremendous ripping sound from above, the roof of the gazebo split – the noise loud in the still air – then the mass of snow came down on them with a thump.

  Shaking the white from his hair, Bannister looked up at the early morning sky, his mind conjuring the worst, Lasser merely sighed before lighting two cigarettes and handing one over.

  'Thanks,' Bannister said as he took a pull.

  Seconds later, they heard the sound of laughter and turned to see Suzanne and Jackie at the door, Kelly and Belle behind them laughing fit to burst.

  'Looks as if I'm back in the good books and all it took was an avalanche,' Bannister observed as he took another pull on the cigarette.

  Lasser never said a word, his mind fixed on Odette, the concern growing with every second that passed.

  52

  The man lay on the bed, eyes closed as he relived the moment he separated the head from the body, the blood spewing into the snow, the legs thrashing.

  He smiled in grim satisfaction; when he thought of where he had placed the head his smile grew even wider.

  Then his phone chimed, the smile slipped a little, his wife's name flashed on the screen taking the smile and twisting it into a grimace of loathing.

  Swinging his legs from the bed, he planted his bare feet on the floorboards and took a deep breath before answering.

  'Morning,' he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

  'I'm just ringing to let you know that I'll be staying here over the Christmas period.'

  'Can I ask why?'

  'I told you yesterday, I need some space and Sam is happy playing with his cousins.'

  His left hand grabbed the corner of the mattress, his grip tightening in anger. 'What about his presents?'

  'Look, the snow is terrible and there's no way I'm risking coming all the way out there to get them, once it's cleared then we can sort out how we can get them to him.'

  'I could come over to you and…'

  'No,' she snapped.

  Closing his eyes, he fought to keep control of the anger, knowing that the only reason she had rung was to try and goad him into a response, something she could use to her advantage. 'OK, whatever you think's best.'

  'I'll ring you in a few days and…'

  'Well, don't forget once the snow clears I'm getting the house valued. I mean, a place like this should sell fast and then we can move to wherever you want.'

  'Like I said, I'll ring you in a few days.'

  'Have you any ideas about where you want to live?' he asked.

  He could almost hear her frustration charging the warm bedroom air.

  'To be honest, I haven't given it much thought,' she lied.

  He almost blurted out that it was hardly surprising considering the night before she had been fucking the man she worked for.

  'Well, take a look online and let me know what you find.'

  'Like I said, we'll talk more about it after Christmas.'

  'No problem.'

  The phone beeped and died, and he rolled back o
nto the bed, staring at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, his heart thudding, fist clenched, the joy of killing the man in the snow already fading, replaced by the need to slaughter his wife and her boss.

  'Patience,'　the voice inside whispered.

  Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep.

  53

  'A spade?' Bannister scowled across the desk at Shannon.

  The doctor nodded. 'That's what I think was used to remove the head…'

  'What about Marsh and Lambert?' Lasser asked.

  Shannon pulled a tangerine from his pocket and started to peel it. 'They're a match. I mean, when you think about it the garden spade is quite a formidable weapon, and whoever did this obviously makes sure the blade is kept sharp.'

  Bannister folded his arms, picturing a psychopathic gardener with wellies on and a pocket full of mixed seeds ready to plant in the rich earth, standing over the body of Shaw, the blade resting on his neck as he bore down and…

  'Whoever he is he must look like an average guy,' Lasser said. 'Shaw died with his hands in his pockets, so obviously he didn't feel threatened until it was too late.'

  'But how did the killer manage that?' Shannon asked, pulling the fruit apart and popping a segment into his mouth.

  'What if the killer spotted Shaw and grabbed the spade, then he made out as if he were stuck and shovelling the snow?' Lasser explained.

  Shannon nodded. 'Makes sense, and it would be the perfect way to hide his true intentions.'

  Bannister grunted and scratched his chin. After they had eaten breakfast, Carole Henson had rung to say that Shannon had done the preliminaries on Shaw, so they had made their way to the hospital. En route, Lasser had tried to ring Odette twice, each time the call had gone straight through to voicemail.

  'OK, so we know this guy uses a white van and from the sounds of it he keeps a spade or possibly other tools in the back,' Bannister pondered.

  'Landscape gardener?' Shannon suggested.

  The DCI nodded. 'Could be.'

  'When you think about it the killer must live locally.'

  Both Bannister and the doctor looked at Lasser.

  'Explain?' Bannister said.

  'The snow's too bad for anyone to travel any real distance, plus he knew to place the head outside the library in the tree and then at the entrance to the church which suggests he knew it was the Lord Mayor's do and knows his way around the town.'

  Shannon smiled, and Bannister scowled.

  'The question is, where will he place Shaw's head?' the doctor asked.

  'Well, if we knew that do you think we would be sitting here talking to you?' Bannister fired back.

  Shannon shrugged as he popped another piece of fruit into his beard.

  'Right, Lasser, let's get back out there,' the DCI rose to his feet.

  Finishing the tangerine, Shannon watched as they left the room before glancing at the window, the snow was falling again, fat flakes drifting lazily towards the ground.

  'Sooner them than me,' he muttered before cracking a yawn and closing his eyes.

  54

  Ashley Dean smiled, hands on hips, as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. The front of the large house was decked out with lights and even with the weak winter sun shining they still flashed and sparkled impressively.

  'It should look lovely tonight.'

  He turned to find his wife standing behind him, wrapped up in a thick winter coat and Ugg boots, her jeans tucked into the top.

  'You'll be able to see them for miles around,' he replied, looking out over the fields of white.

  'God, you're a big kid at times,' she said with a smile.

  Checking his watch, he grinned sheepishly. 'Right, I'm going to nip into town to get some wine to go with the Christmas dinner, I reckon six bottles of red and six white should be enough.'

  'Sounds about right to me and I know you hate the stuff but pick a bottle of eggnog for Auntie Joan.'

  Ashley grimaced.

  'Now, is that look because you hate eggnog or because Joan is actually coming for dinner?' she asked.

  'Bit of both if I'm being honest.'

  Carmen Dean smiled as she punched him lightly on the arm. 'Well, while you're doing that I have a mountain of washing and I need to get the turkey out of the freezer to thaw, it'll need hours to defrost.'

  'OK, is there anything else you need from town?'

  'A manservant would be nice.'

  'In your dreams,' he laughed over his shoulder, heading to the black Jaguar parked on the drive, the roof and windscreen covered with snow.

  Carmen looked over the fields, watching as a pheasant flew by, its flight somewhat awkward in the cold morning air.

  Her breath came out like fog as she watched Ashley shovel the snow from the car with a plastic scraper.

  The night before, they had been in town at a bistro for the office Christmas party. Twelve people had managed to get there through the snow and the night had gone well, the small team laughing and joking and getting into the festive mood, including paper hats and crackers and the occasional kiss under the mistletoe.

  Thankfully, she had stayed off the wine knowing that she still had so much preparation to complete, the last thing she had wanted to do was start the day with a hangover.

  She watched Ashley climb behind the wheel and wave to her as he drove down to the lane, brake lights flashing he paused then turned right, she heard him give a blast on the horn before turning away and walking back into the house.

  Closing the door, she rubbed her hands together against the cold, then made her way along the hallway and into the kitchen, pausing to flick the kettle on, as she moved to a connecting door that led to the garage.

  Clicking the switch on the wall, she waited for the strip light to illuminate the space. Her Audi A8 was parked to the right and would stay there until this damn snow decided to melt, the last thing she wanted was to risk taking the high-powered car out in this weather.

  The light flickered one last time before pinging on and she walked across the cement floor, her boots moving silently as she headed towards the huge chest freezer. When she was six feet away her phone rang, lifting it from her pocket she tapped at the screen.

  'Hi, Auntie Joan, how are you today?'

  'I'm just ringing to see what time you want me there on Christmas Day?'

  'Oh right, well, whatever time suits you, we…'

  'I take it Ashley will be picking me up and bringing me home in time for Coronation Street?'

  'Well…'

  'After all you invited me, I could have made other arrangements and surely you don't expect me to drive all the way to you in my little Micra with all this snow on the ground?'

  Inwardly Carmen sighed, she pictured Ashley's face when he found out that he would be expected to drive eight miles to pick Joan up and then head back out to drop her off, just so she wouldn't miss a tedious soap opera.

  'Look, we'll sort something out and make sure you get home safely,' she promised, wondering why they had even bothered to invite the old dragon in the first place.

  'I certainly hope so. Now, have you got a bottle of eggnog for me?'

  Carmen arrived at the freezer, the phone trapped between her shoulder and cheek. 'Ashley's just gone into town and it's on his list.'

  'Well, I hope he doesn't forget, you know it's the only thing I drink at Christmas time.'

  'I know it is.'

  'And I don't want any sprouts with my Christmas dinner they make me bilious.'

  Carmen suddenly felt like screaming. Two seconds later, the scream became a reality, though it wasn't one of frustration but of horror as she lifted the lid on the freezer and saw the severed head sitting on top of the frozen turkey, the ice beneath stained red with blood and gore.

  The lid fell with a thump, the phone sprang from her hand and clattered to the floor, the image branded onto her mind as she ran screaming for the door that led back into the house.

  'And don't forget I don't want anyone pulling
a cracker close to me, you know I hate them and they make me jump.' Joan's voice carried on complaining. 'Carmen, are you there?' she asked in a pithy tone.

  The distant sound of screaming faded to nothing.

  55

  Plymouth smiled as he watched the girls decorate the tree. On arriving back from Tanner's cottage on the Isle of Skye, he had taken them out into the forest to pick a tree, getting busy with the chainsaw, before attaching it to the quad and dragging it back to the house.

  Ruth glanced over at him and smiled as he sat in front of the log fire before she lifted Eva up to place the star on the top of the tree.

  While they busied about he looked at each one in turn, Ruth and Sammy were the daughters of one of his friends, probably his only friend. Alec Wolf and his wife Louise had been slaughtered by some Russian gangsters, but Plymouth had managed to get the girls out alive and bring them to the Lakes.

  That had been over six years ago, Ruth was now twenty-five, Sammy was a year younger.

  Now, they ran a small bed and breakfast two miles from Ambleside, catering for the hikers and mountain bikers and offering tours of the fells and lakes as part of the package.

  As soon as Ruth placed Eva back on the floor, she turned and flew across the room before diving into his lap.

  'Did you see what I did, Daddy!?' she squealed in delight.

  Plymouth wrapped his arms around her and smiled, it had taken him a long time to get used to her calling him ''Daddy''. In fact, for a while he had tried to discourage her, but in the end, he had given up when he realised it was what she wanted.

  'It looks shiny,' he said as she kissed his cheek, before jumping down again to rummage in the box of baubles.

  'Hot chocolate anyone?' Carla announced, coming in from the kitchen, a tray in her hands laden with steaming mugs.

  Plymouth watched as she placed the drinks on the table, when she turned he gave her a wink then smiled as she blew him a kiss.

  Rising from the chair, he walked to the window and looked out at the winter wonderland. The trees were smothered with white, the branches bending under the weight of the snow, sunlight sparkled to the ground.