Blood Bought

by Robin Roughley

  At the red light she stopped, her eyes scanning the pavements crammed with shoppers and football fans heading to the local stadium for a home game.

  The lights changed, and the traffic started to move forward again, the road curved to the right and she glanced in the wing mirror allowing herself a tight smile.

  Sure, enough Scott Moss was still following, three cars behind she caught a fleeting glimpse of his anger-filled face then the road straightened, and he fell in behind.

  Suddenly, the smile vanished from her face replaced by a look of seething hatred.

  'Think you're a big man,' she snarled as she switched lanes and got her foot down, watching Moss pull out and follow. 'We'll see about that!' she hissed as the fury roared through her normally calm mind.

  88

  'What do you mean I can't have the car?' Stokes asked, watching his mother pour hot water into her cup.

  'I need it, I'm going to see your auntie Joan later, we're having an X-Factor night.'

  Stokes felt the anger judder through his body. 'But I need the car and…'

  'What do you need it for?' she asked, stirring the drink, her eyes fixed on her son's face.

  He tried to think of a legitimate reason, but his mind was blank. His mother could be a royal pain in the arse but normally she would simply hand him the car keys and not question why he needed it or where he was going.

  Then an idea popped into his head and he pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. 'If you must know, I've got a date.'

  '''A date''?' her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

  'Yeah, so I can hardly pick her up using the pushbike, can I?'

  'What's her name?'

  Stokes opened his mouth but for a couple of seconds his mind was blank, when he did utter the name he wished he had kept his mouth closed. 'Medea.'

  His mother looked at him in amazement. '''Medea''?'

  Stokes nodded, though he could feel the heat building in his cheeks as he realised the stupidity of what he had just said.

  'But you haven't seen her in years, she was always a lovely girl, but I can't believe she still lives around her.'

  'Why not?' he asked as he thrust his shaking hands into his pockets.

  'Well, I just thought she would have moved on, let's face it she was bright and well-mannered.

  'Meaning I'm not?'

  Mother looked at son. 'What are you talking about?'

  'You always thought she was too good for me, didn't you?' he demanded.

  Maggie Stokes sighed. 'The trouble with you, Adam, is you never know when you have a good thing in your life. She loved you and yet that was never enough, you cheated on her and then acted surprised when she walked away and left you.'

  The truth of her words made his face burn with shame and anger. 'Look, I never cheated on her, it was a misunderstanding, and…'

  His mother suddenly turned away and looked out into the garden.

  Stokes fumed at her dismissal, as if she had no interest in listening to his lies.

  'Look, can I have the car tonight or not?'

  'Absolutely not.'

  Son gawped at mother in disbelief. 'What are you talking about, I need it and…'

  'You'll have to get a taxi.'

  'How can I afford a taxi, you know I'm skint!' his voice went up another notch as his mother calmly sipped from her cup.

  'And whose fault is that?' she turned back to look him in the eye.

  'Oh, for Christ's sake, don't start to lecture me, I can't be arsed with it.'

  His mother shrugged. 'Fair enough,' she replied, turning away again.

  Adam Stokes screwed his eyes closed in anger as he thought about the chase that had been arranged over in Leigh. The building itself was around seven miles away and if he had no car then it would mean walking to the town centre and then he would have to catch two buses to Leigh and then it would be a twenty-minute walk to the old mill. Then when he had caught the whore and shafted her he would have to make the same trip back. And how pathetic would that be, waiting at a bus stop in the pissing wind and rain?

  Stokes blinked, his eyes flashing with anger as he glared at the back of his mother's head.

  Then another idea flashed through his mind. 'Look, Medea's got a good job, I bumped into her in town and I told her I was struggling to find work and she told me she might be able to help me out.'

  Maggie watched her son's reflection in the window, she could see him ringing his hands together, his eyes wide, and suddenly she didn't believe a word he was saying.

  She turned slowly and looked him up and down. 'You bump into a woman you cheated on and haven't seen for around four years, and she offers you a job – is that what you're saying?'

  Stokes tried to hold her gaze but found that he couldn't manage it.

  Maggie felt the disgust roar through her mind, and as she looked at him he seemed to morph into her ex-husband, the same weak features, the same eyes full of spite and the belief that he was somehow better than a mere mortal.

  'Why do you insist on lying?' she asked.

  Adam found himself taking a step backwards. 'What are you talking about?'

  'You're just like your father, he was always telling lies, always cheating.'

  Adam tried to think of something to say then suddenly realised this was the first time he could ever remember his mother mentioning his absent father.

  'Jesus, I only asked to borrow the fucking car and you're coming out with all this shit,' he gasped.

  'Why are you swearing?'

  'I…'

  'That's another thing your father used to do when I caught him out, he'd raise his voice and start shouting filth, just like you're doing now.'

  Stokes felt the walls of the small kitchen start to close in around him as he realised that his mother could see straight through him, see through the bullshit to the real man beneath.

  Her eyes were brimming with disgust and with a shake of the head she turned away, Stokes took the opportunity to dash from the room, his face coated with sweat, his body shaking with shame.

  Grabbing his coat and his wallet, that contained a measly twenty quid, he stormed from the house, slamming the front door as he left. The wind blowing into his hot face felt freezing as he strode down the path and out through the gate.

  Stokes hesitated for a moment in indecision and then he turned left and hurried away, the anger burning low beneath a blanket of shame, like a bush fire that had been doused with water, ready to leap to life again and wreak havoc.

  89

  Bannister munched on the fries, a paper towel stuffed into the collar of his grey shirt.

  They were parked on McDonald's car park, the drive-thru was busy as usual.

  For once Lasser had declined the food, though he sipped at the strawberry milkshake, his mind still thinking about Jackie Francis – the way she had smiled as she kissed his cheek before walking under the bridge and vanishing from view.

  'We're still none the wiser as to who killed Minnie Burrows or the two Chippendales in the woods,' Bannister moaned before taking a glug from his coffee.

  'Spenner said you'd had Frank Viner in and questioned him over Minnie Burrows?'

  Bannister raised an eyebrow. 'So much for you being out of the loop.'

  'I take it he had an alibi?'

  By the time Bannister had explained about Frank Viner and his trip to London and Cheryl Hucknall backing up his story about being at the apartment on the night Minnie had died Lasser had a scowl on his face.

  'And do you believe her?'

  Bannister dropped the remains of the food into the brown paper bag before yanking the towel from his neck and wiping his greasy fingers. 'To be honest, yes.'

  Lasser lit a cigarette and slid the window down. 'What about Andrew Viner?'

  Bannister glanced at him before sliding his own cigarette free from the pack. 'The guy you left me the voicemail about?'

  Lasser looked at him and nodded. 'When we questioned the Fellow brothers, the
y used the name Viner, but they never actually used a first name.'

  Bannister stopped wiping his fingers, his brow furrowed as he thought back to the grilling they had given the Fellows, then his eyes widened.

  'Oh shit,' he hissed slapping a hand to his forehead. 'If you're right then this is a major fuck-up.'

  Lasser looked at his boss and then shrugged. 'No real harm done,' he said.

  Bannister looked at him agog and took another hurried pull on the cigarette. 'What sort of response is that!?'

  'Think about it, no other bugger has died, so this is new information that we can use.'

  Bannister swallowed the nerves, his eyes till unsure. 'What's Andrew Viner like?'

  'I told you on the voicemail.'

  'Remind me?' the DCI snapped.

  'He's a daddy's boy and a prize twat to boot. I spoke to the woman who runs The Royal Oak and she's says that Viner sponges off his father and likes to act the big man. He also has a massive chip on his shoulder and if looks could have killed then I would have been dead on the spot.'

  'He has a temper on him?'

  Lasser tapped ash out of the window. 'I got the impression that he's used to his old man's money bailing him out, the more I pressed his buttons the angrier he became. He started to talk about getting his brief involved – you know, the usual temper-tantrum type of dickhead.'

  'Do we have an address for him?'

  'He was booked for being over the limit, so his address will be on record now.'

  Bannister looked though the windscreen, the dual carriageway busy with Saturday traffic heading into town, he tapped his fingers on the wheel.

  'The man who took pot shots at us was named Daz Black, and before you ask, yes, he's still in hospital. The doctors have said he won't be able to talk to us for at least another week or so, but we still don't know what he was actually doing there in the first place. It was Frank Viner who identified the man; apparently, he used to work for Viner, but he got rid of Black when he caught him nicking materials from the builders' yard.'

  'So, he could have been trying to rob Viner to get his own back?' Lasser suggested.

  Bannister didn't look convinced, he explained about the search of the house after Lasser had left, the open safe, the keys taken to the shotgun case and the money left untouched in the safe.

  'He could still have been going to steal the cash, but we turned up before he could grab it, as for the safe, well, perhaps Viner had left it open.'

  'That's what Carole said,' Bannister admitted with a heavy sigh.

  'Or he could have been put up to it by someone who had the number to the safe and wanted it emptying.'

  Bannister looked at Lasser again, his eyes narrowing. 'The son?'

  Lasser took another pull on the cigarette as he thought back to the incident at the restaurant. 'Before it all kicked off, me and Tasha were sat at a table, Viner was being an arse – demanding to be served – the woman in charge tried to tell him that his father had put a ban on any more free drinks. According to her, he owed over five hundred quid on drinks alone and I suspect the food tab would have been around the same amount.'

  'Daddy was trying to pull the plug on his fun and games?' the DCI suggested.

  'Yeah, Viner flipped and threatened to give this Jenny the sack. Me and Tasha tried to leave and then it all kicked off.'

  Bannister ran a thoughtful hand over his bristled chin. 'The question is, how well did Andrew Viner know Black?'

  Lifting the lid from the milkshake, Lasser dropped the stump inside before popping the lid back on. 'We need to get Andrew Viner's address and collar the bugger.'

  'See to it,' Bannister said as he reached down and turned the key

  Lasser opened the passenger door and climbed behind the wheel of his own car the phone held to his ear.

  The DCI waited, his hands drumming on the wheel, when he saw the side window of Lasser's car slide down he hit a button and the passenger window followed suit.

  'Got it,' Lasser shouted over.

  'Right, we'll head over to your house first then you can dump the car, it's pointless taking two.'

  'No problem,' Lasser replied as he slid the window back into place.

  Half a minute later, they pulled off the car park and joined the heavy traffic, Bannister mumbling darkly under his breath as the dark clouds gathered.

  90

  May parked up and climbed from the car, closing the door quickly she headed towards the entrance of the cinema, her eyes flicking to the side as she saw Moss pull into a space on the far left.

  Averting her eyes, she moved to the front of the complex and paused to look at the movies that were playing. Checking her watch, she found a rom-com that was due to start in the next ten minutes and quickly went into a busy foyer redolent with the smell of popcorn and hotdogs.

  The place was crammed with a mixture of people, she saw adults with kids queuing to get their tickets along with teenagers in groups. The noise rising as each group shouted over the top of the nearby group, but all losing out to the power of the children's lungs shouting in excitement.

  Weaving her way through the crowd, she went over to a machine on the wall and purchased a ticket for the movie before turning and scanning the room.

  Satisfied that Moss had not followed her into the building she went through the double doors to screen number five. Handing her ticket to the woman at the door she made her way inside and then doubled back on herself, climbing the steps to the highest point she sat down as the screen came to life.

  With a slight smile she eased back in the seat, every time someone came into the auditorium her eyes would glance over to check them out.

  Twenty minutes into the film she closed her eyes, satisfied that no one else would be coming late to the movie.

  The music rose and fell as the action unfolded on the screen though May Linton never saw any of it, in her mind she made plans.

  The question was, should she give Moss the slip when she left the cinema, she had no doubt that he would be waiting for her to leave. She pictured him behind the wheel, his anger building to volcanic proportions as he kept his eyes glued to the front of the building. She had seen the look in his eyes as he lunged at her over the desk, the hatred had been there as he realised that she had been watching and filming him. As a consequence, he had been sacked from his cushy job and his reputation was in tatters so the hatred she had seen would now be mixed with fury. He must have been watching the apartment block when she left, and he had followed her here; she very much doubted whether he was tracking her down to apologise for what had happened.

  In the darkness, her lips curled into a bitter smile as she weighed up her options.

  Opening her eyes, she pulled out her phone and logged onto her Outlook account.

  When she saw the message from the man she had arranged to meet her eyes ignited at his words.

  'Coming to get you, bitch, I hope you can run, because I am going to take you down, big time!'

  She read the message again before closing the phone down.

  She had a few more hours to kill before she made her way to the old mill, she would make sure she arrived earlier than the allotted time just to check that no changes had been made to the interior of the building. Make sure the man hadn't laid booby traps for her.

  The question was, dare she allow Moss to follow her as well. Suddenly, the thought of having two useless bastards chasing her made her heart pick up speed. It was a challenge, a way to test her survival skills, a way to kill two birds with one stone.

  She pictured Bartle as the brick slammed into his open mouth, shattering teeth, his eyes lost in an oblivion of pain and confusion.

  Mind made up, she felt the palms of her hands start to sweat as her core being solidified into a seething mass of fury.

  'Soon,' she whispered into the darkness.

  91

  The light was starting to fade on another drab day as the lift doors opened and Lasser stepped out with Bannister at his side.
r />   Walking along the corridor, they stopped outside the apartment, half a second later the DCI banged his fist against the door.

  Lasser glanced through a large plate-glass window to a view of rolling countryside beyond, he could even see a flock of sheep grazing at the grass, their coats white against the growing gloom.

  Seconds later, Bannister hammered again, louder this time, his frustration mounting. 'Wasted bloody journey,' he moaned.

  When the door opposite opened, they both turned to see a woman looking out at them nervously. She was in her mid-forties, her light-brown hair brushing the shoulders of her denim shirt that hung almost down to her knees.

  'Can I help you?' she asked, one hand resting on the door as if ready to slam it shut if they tried to approach.

  Bannister managed to plaster the semblance of a smile onto his face, though in truth it only served to make the woman more nervous.

  'We're looking for Andrew Viner,' the DCI said, pulling out his warrant card.

  'You're the police?' she asked in surprise.

  Bannister edged forward, the smile still locked onto his face, Lasser stayed where he was.

  'Can you tell me the last time you saw Mr Viner?'

  Just for a moment Lasser saw the woman's face turn sour and then she tried to smile, though she couldn't quite hide the look of distaste.

  'I saw him yesterday on the stairs.'

  'Coming or going?' Bannister asked, slipping the card back into his pocket.

  'We were both heading out, I was going to work but I have no idea where he was going.'

  'Does Viner work?' Lasser asked as he walked over.

  The sour look on her face deepened. 'According to him, working is a ''mug's game'',' she replied.

  'He told you that?'

  The woman looked at Lasser and nodded. 'More than once. In fact, every time he sees me heading to work he shakes his head and makes some puerile comment about how he would never get out of bed for less than a grand a day.'