Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021)

by Robin Roughley

  'That's true, and it makes me feel like fucking shit.'

  'So, next time they ring jump in before they have chance to pin you down, ask them how they're feeling, get them to talk about themselves.'

  Bannister rubbed at his eyes before sliding the window down a couple of inches. 'The whole thing's a mess, I mean, why did it have to happen, why did she have to die?'

  This time Lasser found he had nothing to say, no words of comfort that wouldn't have sounded crass.

  'When I think of all the bastards we've come across over the years, the pricks who care only for themselves, yet they're still living and breathing, and my Sue's gone.'

  'Life stinks,' Lasser whispered as he felt the emotion well inside.

  'I just don't get it, she didn't have a bad bone in her body, everyone loved her and now she's bloody dead.'

  Lasser turned right onto Landgate Estate and then headed down the road that ended in a cul-de-sac. Bringing the car to a halt, he sighed before turning the engine off.

  'I don't know what to say, I don't have any answers,' he admitted before turning to face the DCI.

  Bannister looked at him and then shrugged. 'I'm not a religious man, but if there are any pearly gates and I get to them, then whoever is standing there is in for a proper fucking roasting.'

  Clicking the door open, Lasser climbed out and Bannister followed suit, they walked down the narrow path, the rain battering down at them, adding to the sense of desolation.

  'Should have brought my wellies,' the DCI complained as they trudged along.

  When the house came into view, they spotted a small white SOCO van parked at the front of the property.

  Bannister glanced at Lasser. 'There must be a road to the house and yet here we are getting pissed wet through.'

  Lasser shrugged apologetically as he flicked up the collar of his jacket. 'Never thought to look.'

  Bannister gave a grizzled smile. 'Actually, it's nice to feel the rain on my face.'

  '''Nice''?' Lasser repeated in surprise.

  'Sounds daft I know, it's not stopped raining for what feels like weeks, but I've not been out in it.'

  The house drew closer and Bannister grimaced. 'What a shithole.'

  When they were twenty feet away, Carl appeared from the property and lit a cigarette, the smoke trailing up into the rain as he watched them approach.

  'All right, Carl, what have you found?' Bannister asked as they came to a halt at the front of the property, the place appeared even more ramshackle through the grey mist of rain.

  Unzipping his white paper suit to the waist, Carl took another pull on the cigarette. 'Well, there's all the usual rubbish you find in an old dump like this, broken beer bottles, empty tin cans, couple of porno mags with an ancient mattress in the front room. The killer left the hammer in the bedroom but there are no fingerprints, and the hammer itself looks brand new.'

  'Are we OK having a look around?' the DCI asked.

  'Yeah, but mind your step, some of the stairs and flooring upstairs is a bit dicey.'

  Lasser looked at the track that Carl had driven along to get to the house, it ran straight across the field before vanishing into a thicket of woodland. 'According to Shaun Rourke there was no car parked here last night so the killer and victim must have arrived on foot.'

  'Well, before she was taken away, I did a preliminary, and her shoes were wet and smeared with mud,' Carl said. 'It was the same with her clothing,' he added.

  Bannister looked at him and grunted before heading for the house, Lasser following closely behind.

  The hallway stank of age and perished plaster, Lasser glanced into the living room, his face twisting into a grimace when he saw the mattress on the floor, mould bloomed on the surface, the material had been slashed in places revealing the rusting springs beneath.

  Reaching the stairs, Bannister checked where the missing steps were and then he was heading up, Lasser hung back waiting until the DCI reached the landing before following.

  Passing the first bedroom on the left, they stopped for a moment to look at the shabby interior, the room was empty, the walls pitted and bare.

  'How many times have we seen shitholes like this?' the DCI asked with a sigh.

  'Lost count.'

  Bannister turned away heading into the second bedroom, Lasser following, they came to a stop, there was blood on the floor from where the body of the woman had been nailed to the fireplace.

  'If her shoes and clothing were wet then, like you said, the killer must have brought her here on foot,' Bannister said with a sigh before turning and heading to the window, looking down he pursed his lips at the drop.

  'Either she was terrified when he brought her here or she didn't realise the danger until it was too late,' Lasser suggested.

  Turning from the drop, Bannister folded his arms. 'Perhaps he was armed and forced her here?'

  'Maybe the bastard used the hammer to threaten her with.'

  'We need to know more about this hellhole,' Bannister suddenly said as he looked around the room in disgust.

  Lasser nodded in agreement. 'I know what you mean, if you intended killing someone then there are easier places to do it.'

  'Yeah, and why did he bring the victim up here to this room?'

  'Perhaps the killer had been here before and knew the layout,' Lasser suggested.

  'OK, but it would still make more sense to kill the victim downstairs, why risk coming up here to this room?'

  Lasser thought for a moment though he could find no logical reason why the killing had taken place in the hideous bedroom.

  'That's why we need to know more about this place, who lived here etc, and Roger's the man for the job,' Bannister said as he lifted out his phone and put the call in.

  Lasser slid his hands into his pockets, his brow creased in thought, the need for another cigarette growing as the rain blew in through the glassless window.

  8

  Hannah Pence watched her daughter shrug into her jacket, the school badge emblazoned on the pocket.

  'Your father isn't going to be happy; Morgan, he's been waiting at the front for almost ten minutes now.'

  Her daughter threw her a sharp look before picking up her schoolbag. 'It's not my fault, he always does that, and he knows I have to do my hair.'

  Hannah raised an eyebrow at her response. 'Come on, be fair, your dad has to get to work and…'

  'Got to go,' Morgan interrupted before heading for the door, grabbing a slice of toast from her mother's plate on her way past. Yanking the back door open, she vanished from view, not bothering to close the door as she went.

  Hannah took a sip from her coffee cup, the annoyance plucking at her brow, then she rose and closed the door, the sound of the car crunching over the gravel drive as they left sounding loud despite the squally morning air.

  Moving back to the breakfast bar, she wondered where she had gone wrong with raising her daughter.

  The truth was she had always tried to allow her to make her own way in life, neither her nor James had ever been what you would call strict, and yet now she felt the disappointment inside making her sigh.

  Teenagers were always difficult, she understood that well enough, but the truth was that for the last twelve months Morgan had been insufferable.

  Sitting down, she took another sip from the cup, wondering if it was a phase she was going through, trouble was, it was a long phase that seemed to have no end date in sight, Morgan was sullen and ignorant, end of story. She tried to think back to when she had been her daughter's age, but she couldn't remember being such a pain to her parents, on the whole they had all got along fine. She had never thrown a strop, never sulked for days on end when she didn't get her own way. With a sigh, she finished the drink and then headed over to the sink to wash the cup. Two minutes later, she grabbed her car keys and left the house, making her way around to the drive before climbing into her car.

  Sliding the key into the ignition, she flicked on the wipers to shift the rain, her
mind still locked in the past, picturing the long walks with her father, normally they would have one of the dogs with them and when she had been really young her father would pick her up and lift her onto his shoulders. She could still recall that feeling of love perched high, her small hands planted on the top of her father's head as he strode along. It had felt as if she was on top of the world, and the elevated views had taken her breath away, the years had passed and yet the walks with her father had continued. Every day when he finished work, they would get their walking boots on and head out to the woods or open fields and they would talk about how their day had been. Looking back, she felt the warm feeling of love for her father, wonderful memories that were now all she had to remember him by. He had died when she was nineteen, a heart attack that had hit hard and fast. She had been at college on the day he died. She could remember the principal entering the room and going to her tutor, students had looked up as they whispered together, and then Mr Croft had walked from behind his desk and made his way towards her, she had felt the confusion grow as he leaned close to her and asked her to follow him.

  At first, she had been convinced that she had done something wrong, five minutes later she had slid down the corridor wall as the news slammed through her mind and body.

  She had been led to a small room to wait for her mother, but the walls had closed in around her and she could remember running from the building, down the five flights of stairs, hair flying, bitter tears blurring her vision.

  She could vaguely recall other students looking on in surprise as she ran across the huge reception area before tearing through the double doors and out into the rain.

  As she sat in the car, hands clasped on the wheel, she relived that terrible day.

  Sprinting through the rain, her shoes splashing through the puddles, her heart slamming. He couldn't be dead, it wasn't possible, she had seen him that morning and given him a hug before he headed out for work. There had been nothing wrong with him, his smile had been the same, and then he had taken a bite from the slice of toast, a sliver of butter on his top lip.

  'Have a good one, sweetheart.'

  That had been the last thing he had ever said to her and as she ran, she realised that she would never hear him utter another word. The realisation had been crushing, and she had staggered to a stop, the rain lashing into her face, mingling with the tears.

  By the time she arrived home she was drenched, her hair hanging in a limp mess, her shoulders hunched as she fumbled the key into the lock and staggered into the hallway.

  Her mother had arrived back at the house twenty minutes later, having gone to the college to find that her daughter had left the building. They had clung together on the sofa, both crying in disbelief at what had happened, now, as she drove away from the house, the tears were once more sparkling in her eyes.

  Dragging her mind back to the present, she thought of Morgan, and the spite she would see in her eyes as she glared at her mother before firing out one of her caustic comments that hurt so much, the insults delivered with such vitriol.

  For a few seconds, anger flared in Hannah Pence's mind, the truth was she didn't deserve to be treated this way, she was a good mother, easy-going and always there for her daughter and yet Morgan showed no respect.

  Clunking into another gear, she leaned forward over the steering wheel, the turmoil inside ramping up as she headed to do the weekly shop.

  9

  Lasser climbed behind the wheel as Bannister slumped into the passenger seat, before swiping a hand across his wet hair.

  Lasser flicked the heater on, seconds later warm air flooded through the vents and he glanced at Bannister in the passenger seat, his face sour. 'I thought you enjoyed the feeling of the rain on your face.'

  'Yeah well, you can have too much of a good thing,' the DCI complained.

  'Where do you want to go next?' Lasser asked as Bannister held his hands over the vent.

  'Hospital, we need to know more about the victim, so let's see what Shannon has come up with.'

  'No worries,' Lasser said as he did a three-point turn and headed back along the road.

  Bannister turned his face away, watching the houses glide by, most of the gardens were neat and tidy though they did pass the occasional weed-infested lawn. He thought about what Lasser had said – about asking the girls how their day had been before they managed to start with the questions. He was right, he needed to take control more, they were suffering as well, and he needed to remember that. When he felt the tap on his arm, he turned and took the lit cigarette that Lasser offered.

  'Thanks', he said before taking a quick pull.

  'Odette said the killer pushed Shaun back and slammed the door closed before leaping from the window.'

  'That's right, but what of it?'

  Lasser blew smoke towards the small gap in the window. 'Well, it was quite a jump.'

  'I know that, but obviously he wasn't expecting a police officer to come barging into the bedroom, he panicked and jumped rather than risk going down the stairs. We know useless Black was at the front of the house, but the killer didn't, for all he knew Shaun could have come mob-handed.'

  Lasser nodded in understanding as he slowed down at the junction before turning right. 'But it does point to someone who knew exactly what they were doing.'

  'Explain?'

  'Well, Odette thinks it was the head wound that killed the woman and then he nailed her hands to the fireplace, which…'

  'Which basically means he's a fucking maniac, and we need to catch the bastard,' Bannister snarled.

  'Agreed,' Lasser paused, 'but it shows a level of control as well, I mean, think about it, he'd already murdered the woman and then he got busy with the hammer and nails, but when Shaun opened the bedroom door, he scarpered.'

  'Of course he bloody did, he didn't want to get caught,' Bannister grumbled.

  'But if he had a hammer in his hand then why didn't he attack Shaun?'

  'How the hell should I know?'

  Lasser sighed out more smoke. 'All I'm saying is that he had enough self-control to make a break for it, he wasn't completely unhinged otherwise he wouldn't have pushed Shaun from the room, he would have gone for him with the hammer.'

  'Guesswork,' Bannister replied with a huff as he turned away again.

  Lasser kept his mouth closed, aware that although the DCI was sat by his side, he wasn't really present, wasn't completely focused on the killing at the derelict house. For the first time, he contemplated the possibility that perhaps Bannister would never be able to concentrate fully on the job again. Perhaps he would forever be thinking of Suzanne and the girls, trying to disguise the fact that he was slowly unravelling.

  He held the sigh at bay as he slowed down for the lights at the end of Lily Lane. When they flicked to green, he took the left filter, grey shrouded figures moved along the pavements, some waiting to cross to the Iceland store on the right. Then one man, who stood on the kerb, flicked his cigarette at the car as they drove past, the stump hit the passenger window in a brief shower of sparks.

  'Turn around,' Bannister suddenly demanded as he twisted in his seat, glaring out of the back window as the figure crossed the road.

  'Forget it, he was just a tosser, a nobody,' Lasser offered as he glanced in the mirror to see the hoodie step onto the kerb.

  'I said, ''turn around'', Sergeant,' Bannister warned darkly.

  Checking the mirror again, Lasser spun the car around and headed toward the man before pulling over to the left and flicking on the hazard lights as Bannister slid the window down.

  'Hey, dickhead, I want a word with you!' he bellowed out of the window.

  The man stopped and turned, his craggy mid-thirties face set in a grimace of surprise.

  Lasser drummed his fingers on the wheel as the man strode towards the car, when he was ten feet away, Bannister thrust the door open and stepped out into the rain.

  'What did you call me?' the man demanded.

  'You flicked your ciga
rette at the car, why did you do that?' the DCI asked.

  'Don't know what you're talking about, you stupid fuck!'

  Half a second later, Lasser was out of the Audi and striding to the pavement as Bannister stepped towards the idiot.

  'How old are you?' Bannister snarled. 'You see, it's always difficult to tell with low-life bag heads. I mean, you look fucking older than me, but crack cocaine and cheap booze tends to do that to you.'

  Reaching the kerb, Lasser moved to Bannister's side as the tosser in the grubby-looking track suit glared at Bannister, a snarl of anger on his ravaged face, fury in his narrowed bloodshot eyes. 'I'm going to knock the shit out of the pair of you if you don't get back into your car and fuck off.'

  Lasser tensed, ready to grab Bannister if he lost the plot as the man started to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet.

  'People like you make me want to throw up!' Bannister barked.

  'Yeah, yeah, carry on, tosspot, and see where it gets you.'

  Bannister tilted his head, his nostrils flaring. 'I want to know why you thought it acceptable to flick the cigarette against the passenger window?'

  'I just wish the sun had been shining and you'd had the window down, then it might have hit your stupid face,' the man grinned, pleased with his quip.

  Dipping a hand into his pocket, Bannister lifted out his ID card and flicked it open before thrusting it forward. 'Not laughing now are you, Mr Dickhead?'

  'You think that bothers me; you think I give a toss who you are?'

  'What's your name?' Lasser asked.

  'I don't have to tell you that, I know my rights.'

  'You really are thicker than pig shit, aren't you?' Bannister asked as he shook his head. 'I'm an officer of the law, and you have just broken it, so you either tell me your name, or I take you down to the station until you decide to co-operate?'

  'Not a fucking chance,' the man said, his face writhing as he eagerly licked his lips, and then he lunged forward, his right arm cocked back.

  Bannister beat him to the punch, his right arm shooting out, fist slamming into the man's chin, poleaxing him to the ground where he lay blinking up in disbelief as the DCI loomed over him.