Blood Bought

by Robin Roughley

  By the time they changed to green he had another cigarette on the go. Turning left, he glanced back over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Jackie's boat just as it disappeared from view.

  Then he had to concentrate and keep his speed down as the winding road dropped away.

  The further he moved away from the canal, the more his mind became focused on Frank Viner, murdered on the moors with a chunk of rock.

  The more he thought things through the more an image of Viner's son rose in his mind, the petulant look in his eyes as Lasser collared him in The Royal Oak. He pictured Rose Minter, Viner's neighbour, her eyes alight with nervous tension as she told them all about Andrew Viner and how he made her feel like a piece of meat as he followed her up the stairs.

  When they had arrived at Frank Viner's house, Cheryl Hucknall had been running from the property, her face blanched with fear.

  Once inside again, she had rung Viner and left an anxious voicemail on his phone, telling him about what had happened.

  The road continued to twist and turn, at the bottom he slowed down for the roundabout and turned left.

  Focussing back on the Viners, he tried to imagine what would have happened when Frank Viner had listened to the voicemail left by his girlfriend.

  Viner would know that the small gate in the woods was rarely used and perhaps he would suspect that it had been his son at the house.

  If that were the case, then the latest news that someone had been trying to break into the house again could have led to Viner ringing his son and demanding to know what the hell he was playing at.

  He pictured the scene, the two men meeting on the open moors, Frank going ballistic, his son cowering in fear as his old man laid down the law. Probably informing his wayward son that there would be no more money tree for him to shake.

  Lasser remembered Andrew Viner at the pub, his eyes flashing with hatred and fear as Lasser drove him along the bar before slamming him into the wall. Then he imagined a scenario where he had turned away, and right then and there he knew that if he had done that then Viner would have attacked him from behind, only daring to attack a man the cowardly way, when their back was turned.

  He thought of Frank turning away from his son in disgust, Andrew would have attacked without a second's hesitation.

  The junction appeared, and Lasser glanced to the right before pulling out onto the road. Checking his mirrors, he dropped the spent cigarette through the window.

  Bannister had been right, they needed to catch up with Viner, and quick, before he had time to get his alibi in place.

  Lasser's face settled into a scowl as he headed into town. The relaxed, happy face now consigned to a compartment labelled ''Jackie''.

  119

  May smiled at the man behind the counter, he was huge, muscles flexed as he looked down at her.

  'Well, we're not really meant to give out the addresses of the members,' he explained.

  May sighed in mock disappointment before flicking her head, her hair shimmered in the stark overhead light. 'That's OK, but I really like this guy, I've lost his phone number and he did say he trained here a lot, so I thought it was the best place to try.'

  'Are you sure Adam Stokes is the guy you're looking for?' he asked, puzzled.

  'I'm sorry, I don't follow?' she asked all doe-eyed.

  'Well, Stokes might have been trying to impress you when he said he trained a lot, but the truth is he's not serious about the body building, he's more into the posing.'

  May felt the disgust rise in her heart as the man looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

  'OK, I'm sorry for bothering you, I suppose that's it then, but if he does come in can you let him know that I'd really like to meet him again?' she asked in a small voice before turning away.

  'Hang on.'

  May glanced over her shoulder as the man tapped at a keyboard.

  'He lives at number seventeen Cole Avenue, I think it's over Beech Hill way.'

  May's face lit up with a beaming smile. 'Oh wow, thanks.'

  'Never let it be said that I stand in the way of true love,' the guy said with a smirk.

  'Exactly,' May said, ignoring the sarcasm as she headed for the door, the smile falling from her face, her eyes alight with cold, hard hatred.

  120

  'Are you sure?' Lasser asked as he looked at the office block, the doors locked, the place devoid of life, all the lights off.

  He had the phone to his ear, his face creased in surprise as Roger told him about the woman named May Linton.

  'She was attacked over eight years ago at a park over in Billinge. According to the evidence she had been taking a shortcut home after a day at University.'

  'I remember it vaguely,' Lasser said as he turned back towards the car.

  'She claims that there were three, maybe four, men involved in the assault, but it was dark, and she was unable to give any details of what they looked like, though she did claim they had local accents.'

  'I take it the courts put a block on any reporting?'

  'May Linton's family insisted that a lid was kept on the whole thing.'

  'Understandable,' Lasser said as he got behind the wheel. 'I mean, she'd been through enough and the last thing she would want was a prick like Michael Brewster on her doorstep.'

  'Who?' Roger asked in confusion.

  'He's Wigan's answer to a slimeball, paparazzi shit.'

  'Oh right,' Roger replied nonplussed.

  'What else do we know about the attack?'

  'DI Cooper was in charge, but to be honest it looks as if his investigation came to nothing.'

  'Doesn't surprise me,' Lasser said as he turned the car around on the small car park and drove towards the gates.

  'There's a small list of people who were questioned at the time, but I assume it hit a dead end.'

  'Do you have an address for Linton?'

  'I checked the electoral roll and she lives at Trencherfield Mill, apartment number forty-six.'

  Lasser brought the car to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise. 'That's the same place that Odette lives.'

  'I didn't know that.'

  'Right, keep digging, double-check the names on the list, see if anything jumps out at you.'

  '''Jumps out'' at me?' Roger asked in confusion again.

  'Yeah, see if any of them have been in trouble with us since they were questioned and why they were pulled in the first place.'

  'Look, I don't mind helping, but I'm more the tech guy, I'm no police officer.'

  Lasser thought about what he was saying as he pulled out onto the road. 'I trust you, Rog, you're a bright guy and…'

  'Yes, but is it legal?' Roger asked.

  Grabbing second gear, Lasser scowled 'How the hell should I know? If anyone asks, then just tell them you are acting on my orders.'

  'Oh, OK, if you're sure.'

  'I'm positive, I'll head over to Trencherfield Mill, so if you find anything then you can get me on my mobile.'

  'Will do.'

  Sliding into third gear he ended the call and dropped the phone in his pocket, the traffic was starting to build, no doubt people were heading to the larger stores to get the Sunday shopping in.

  Lasser thought about the casserole that Jackie had cooked and smiled as he headed across town.

  121

  Bannister fumbled in Frank Viner's jacket pocket, his head turned to one side, his eyes averted from the damage done to the dead man's head.

  When his fingers located the phone, he grunted in satisfaction before pulling it free and standing up.

  Doc Shannon stood by his side with Shaun Rourke talking to the hang-glider guy about thirty feet away.

  Shannon sighed in contentment as he looked out over the unbroken miles of moorland. 'Grand view?'

  Bannister glanced up from the screen of the phone. 'Not for this poor bastard it isn't.'

  'There are worse places to die,' the doc replied philosophically.

  'Agreed, but the
re are easier ways to go about it.'

  Shannon looked down at the body and nodded in agreement. 'True enough.'

  Bannister tapped at the phone and a load of icons appeared on the screen. 'I take it the one blow did the damage?' he asked as he searched for the one he was looking for.

  'More than likely… or two at the most.'

  The DCI opened up the last call that Frank Viner had made, his eyes narrowing in anger.

  'Found anything?' Shannon asked.

  Bannister's eyes remained on the screen as he read the details. 'Our friend here rang his idiot son at one-fifteen this morning, the call lasted over three minutes.'

  'So, the son answered the call?'

  Bannister looked up and smiled, though there was no humour behind his hard eyes. 'Oh yes, so I want a word with the little shit. ASAP.'

  'Well, the ambulance should be here any minute, I'll have the body moved and get to work.'

  Bannister slapped him on the back as he moved away. 'Good man.'

  The doc watched him stalk towards the Audi, half a minute later he pulled away along the rutted, gravel lane.

  Shannon pulled a pear from his pocket and took a bite, his eyes once more admiring the view as the warming autumn sun shone down onto his upturned face, his beard quivering as he chewed the fruit.

  122

  Lasser hesitated at Odette's door feeling the mix of emotions clatter through his brain. He knew she was in the Lakes, no doubt having a great time striding out over the glorious landscape, or sitting in a country pub, logs burning in the fireplace with the new man in her life by her side.

  Under normal circumstances the image would have drove him mad but now he felt a calmness descend and he knew it was down to Jackie Francis.

  In the past, he had been reluctant to get involved with anyone new, after all hadn't Medea left him after he thought they would be together forever? Even his brief affair with Ruby Ross had ended when she realised that his job took up almost all of his time, leaving no room for any real commitment.

  Lasser frowned as he moved past the door, heading for the stairs that would take him up to the next level. The rational side of his brain insisted on taking the piss, informing him that Jackie would soon get to know the truth about him. He was a waste of space the voice said, a man who was too scared to commit, a man who could not stop working because the truth was he had no real life beyond the job.

  Gradually his footfalls slowed as he climbed the steps, the usual feeling of self-hatred and self-loathing surfacing. Was he really that pathetic, a man living a borrowed life because he didn't have the nerve to lead his own to the full.

  Rather than answer the question, he sprinted up the remaining steps to the next level and turned right.

  Glancing at the numbers he realised he would have to go even higher, and this time he stopped at the lift and pressed the button.

  Trying to keep the grim thoughts at bay he waited for the lift to arrive.

  It opened just as a woman in her late-twenties came down the stairs and passed him, rucksack over one shoulder.

  'Hi,' she said, smiling at him, as she carried on down.

  'All right,' Lasser replied as he returned the smile.

  Stepping into the lift, he pressed the button and the door slid closed, the lift bumped and started to climb, seconds later the door clattered open and Lasser stepped out and made his way down the corridor.

  Reaching number forty-six, he pressed the bell and stepped back slightly. Twenty seconds later he rang again before knocking on the woodwork.

  The seconds ticked by and Lasser sighed as he lifted his hand to knock again.

  'If you're looking for May then she isn't in.'

  Lasser turned as a woman in her fifties stepped out of the flat opposite and closed the door.

  'You don't happen to know where she is, do you?'

  The woman frowned. 'You don't know May, do you?'

  'No, but I really need to speak to her.'

  'Have you come up in the lift?'

  'Yeah, but…'

  'Well, you must have just missed her because I saw her go down the stairs about a minute ago.'

  'Dark hair, carrying a rucksack?'

  The woman smiled. 'That's May, she's always out running, night or day it doesn't matter to her, she never stops.'

  Lasser felt his frustration grow as he realised May Linton had walked straight past him and he had been clueless.

  'I try to tell her it's not safe running in the dark, she doesn't even stick to the roads, she goes off over the fields and through the woods just wearing a head torch.'

  Lasser felt something in his mind slip into place, and suddenly he pictured May Linton sprinting through the trees with Clark or Bartle in pursuit, he imagined her hiding behind the pallets of insulation before dashing forward and gutting Scott Moss.

  Turning, he ran full blast back to the steps and hurtled down, his hand gripping the handrail as he spun around and dashed along the next landing to another flight of stairs. His mind in uproar as he realised the gravity of his mistake.

  Dashing past Odette's door, he reached the next flight and began to descend, taking the steps two at a time.

  More flights until finally he dashed across the foyer and slammed his way out through the front door. Sprinting across the car park, he reached the street and looked left and right.

  'Shit!' he hissed, the street was deserted in either direction.

  Pulling out his phone, he stabbed at the screen until Bannister's name popped up.

  Taking a deep breath, he pressed the call button.

  123

  Andrew withered under his mother's hard, unflinching gaze.

  They were standing in the kitchen of the large house, Andrew lowered his head as she took a step closer to him. Part of him shivered in disgust, he knew what was coming next, she would enfold him in her arms, the sickly-sweet smell of her perfume would engulf him, and he knew he would have to quell the gagging reflex as she held him close, her false tits pressed tight to his chest.

  Over the years it had become a ritual, especially when he had done something stupid. His mind travelled back to when he had told her about the attack on the daft bitch who was walking through the darkened park. He winced as he recalled his father laying into him, and his mother had spat and hissed, telling her ex-husband exactly what would happen if he even thought of going to the police with the news.

  After his father had gone, Bea Viner had hugged her son as she helped him to his feet. At the time, Andrew had been terrified, but he was sure of one thing, his mother had helped him upstairs and run a bath, and Andrew had stood there as she took off his clothes and then…

  When her open hand slapped across his face, Andrew yelped and staggered back, his bloodstained hand went to his stinging cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  'What was that for?' he asked in confusion as he rubbed at his burning cheek.

  'You fool!' she spat, the make-up on her face cracking with rage.

  'I…'

  'Why did you agree to meet your bastard father all the way out there?'

  'He said he was going to go to the police and tell them all about what had happened, and…'

  'He would never have done that, he…'

  'You didn't see what he was like, Mother, he meant it, and he told me the money would stop, right there, right then.'

  Bea looked at her son and despaired. 'Look at this place, do we look as if we are living below the poverty line?'

  Andrew looked around the huge kitchen with a set of French doors that opened onto the landscaped garden beyond.

  'But…?'

  'I got this house in the divorce settlement, bought and paid for by your father, he puts money into our banks every month without fail and despite that you go and kill the man!' her voice rose until it sounded like a screech, driving Andrew further back until he bumped into one of the oak-fronted cupboards.

  'Please, you have to help me, I…'

  'I want the truth, I wa
nt to know why your father was so furious.'

  'I don't have a bloody clue, he…'

  She sprang forward and slapped him hard again, tears leaked from his eyes as he realised that this time there would be no hugs or soft words of understanding from the woman who now bore down on him.

  'Don't lie to me!' she hissed.

  'But I don't know, I swear it!' his voice came out as little more than a squeak.

  This time, her nails raked across his face, leaving twin tracks of blood in their wake. 'You must have done something!'

  The meeting on the moors with his father had been a terrible ordeal but Viner suddenly knew that this was a whole lot worse. His mother could always be relied on to stick by him no matter what he had done, but this time he saw a new coldness in her grey eyes, a look of disgust, not at the things he had done but because he now ran the risk of being caught for his actions.

  'I swear I have no idea.' he managed to mumble the words.

  His mother shook her head slowly. 'Last chance, Andrew?'

  He started to shake, the fear running rampant through his mind and body as she held him with her fierce gaze.

  Andrew opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say, but then someone banged on the front door, the sound booming through the house.

  Bea snapped her head around, her dyed hair wobbled but held in place by half a tin of hairspray.

  'How did you get here?' she demanded, turning back to her son.

  'I came in a car…'

  'Where did you leave it?'

  The door banged again, and Andrew threw a glance of terror to his left, 'On the drive,' he whispered.

  'Imbecile!' she barked.

  'Police, open up!' the voice, although muffled by the door, still managed to carry authority – and with it more terror for Andrew Viner.

  'Please, Mother, you have to help me!'

  'Do I? Why?' she asked.

  Glaring at her in disbelief, he swallowed the fear lodged in his throat and then his mind threw up the final ace, the last chance of a lifeline out of this mess. 'If you don't help me then I'll tell them you knew all about the girl in the park but kept it to yourself.'