Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021)

by Robin Roughley

  'Always is, and call me Tom,' the man said as he stepped back and ushered Shaun into the hallway.

  'Horrible bloody weather,' Barry said as he peered out at the driving rain before closing the door.

  The house had the faint scent of cooking cabbage in the air as they walked into the small living room, the gas heater attached to the wall was on full blast making the air feel hot and stifling.

  'Sit down, lad,' Barry said as he gestured towards a threadbare chair.

  Shaun had to move a couple of newspapers before he could sit down, the springs were well past their best and he sunk lower than anticipated.

  'I'm sorry to bother you, but when we spoke on the phone earlier you said you have information on the Ethel Brab case?'

  The old man nodded, his large hands resting on his knees. 'Like I said, I was just starting my career in the force when she was murdered, terrible business, I tell you it kept me awake for months after.'

  Shaun nodded in sympathetic understanding as he pictured the horror of finding the woman nailed to the fireplace, her bowed head coated in blood. 'The thing is, because of the passage of time, details are somewhat sketchy about what actually happened, we have people trying to gather more information but it's proving difficult.'

  Barry stretched out his legs before folding his arms across his chest. 'I'm not surprised, it's not like it is today where everything is logged onto a computer and it stays there forever. Back then things were written down, and the files were only kept for a certain amount of time. Eventually, they'd get moved to make way for new cases, you know how it is, things get mislaid or buried under a mountain of other boxes.'

  'Well, like I said we've been trying to search things out, but it hasn't been easy.' Shaun replied as he popped a couple of buttons on his uniform jacket.

  Tom Barry pursed his lips, his face crinkled with age, though his eyes were still keen and bright. 'I was the first to arrive at Dove Cottage, back then that was my patch, it isn't like now, I went around on a pushbike, no squad car for the likes of me.'

  The heat in the room continued to grow and Shaun glanced around the living space, he could see a picture of Tom Barry, and a woman he assumed had been his wife on the fireplace, a few pot figurines were scattered around the flat surfaces, everything coated with dust.

  'So, you pedalled out to the crime scene?' Shaun asked.

  Barry nodded. 'I did and it was a lousy day, raining like it is now. When I arrived, there was no one at the house, but the front door was standing open.'

  'Left open by the woman who raised the alarm?'

  'Aye, her name was Bertha Mills, she had left the door open as she ran from the house.'

  Shaun waited for the man to continue, but Tom Barry was suddenly looking at the rain-lashed window.

  The silence stretched out for a few seconds, until Shaun coughed, and the old man blinked at him.

  'Sorry I was miles away.'

  'That's OK,' Shaun smiled in understanding.

  Barry shifted slightly in his chair, the springs groaning. 'Truth is I'd never seen a dead body before, and I just stood there, I couldn't move, could hardly breathe.'

  'It must have been a terrible shock for you.'

  Barry nodded, a slight frown plucking at his brow. 'You could say that, I mean, when you first join the force you get a lot of the older guys telling you about the cases they'd been involved in, they would try and outdo one another and scare the new recruits like me.'

  'That still goes on today,' Shaun admitted.

  'I bet it does, human beings are grim buggers at the best of times.'

  'Can you tell me what you found in the bedroom?'

  Old Tom Barry swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, though his bright eyes were still sharp and alert.

  'I was a copper for over thirty years and in all that time I never saw anything as bad as what happened to Ethel Brab.'

  Shaun steeled himself as the rain continued to batter the glass.

  'She'd been beaten around the head, we never found the murder weapon,' he paused, 'that was grim enough, but after he'd killed her, he nailed her hands to the bloody fireplace.'

  Shaun Rourke's eyes sprang wide in shock. 'Nailed her to the fireplace?'

  Barry nodded, looking pained at the memory. 'Never seen anything like it, like I said, I just stood there, scared out of my skin.'

  Leaning forward slightly, Shaun licked his suddenly dry lips. 'That was never mentioned in any of the reports I've seen.'

  'To be honest, I'm amazed you managed to find anything apart from old newspaper clippings, I mean, for a couple of weeks it was big news, especially around these parts but then it sort of faded away over time, you know what it's like, other news happens, and people forget.'

  'What about suspects?'

  'We had none, and no one ever came forward with any information, the son had a rock-solid alibi, not that he was ever really in the frame, the farm was making money and there was no life insurance on the victim.

  'And the place hadn't been burgled?' Shaun asked.

  Barry's faced creased even further. 'The killing had nothing to do with a robbery, it was a madman that did it, someone twisted in the head.'

  'Can you remember if there were any suicides around that time?'

  'I thought about that, you know the killer racked with guilt and they top themselves, but to be honest there was no one who fitted the bill.'

  'What about the way she died, it sounds almost ritualistic?'

  Barry wiped a meaty hand under his nose. 'That should have been looked into, but those in charge didn't want to know, they thought it was all nonsense.'

  'But you think differently?'

  Barry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. 'To be honest I have no idea, but the bastard crucified her so he must have been insane to make him do that.'

  'Do you have any idea when the case was last looked at?' Shaun asked.

  The old man folded his arms again and looked thoughtful for a moment. 'To be honest, I think it was looked at twice, but that would have been the cold case team who saw to that. But nothing ever came of it because no one was ever charged with Ethel Brab's murder.'

  Glancing at his watch, Shaun rose to his feet. 'Well, Mr Barry, thanks for your help, it's appreciated.'

  'I've been watching the news and I couldn't believe it when I saw what had happened, I mean, what are the chances of two women dying all those years apart in the same house?'

  'I know, but hopefully this time we'll catch the killer and lock them away for the rest of their natural.'

  Tom Barry pushed himself up slowly from the sofa, wincing as his joints creaked, then he blew out a hiss of pain.

  'Are you OK?' Shaun asked.

  'Well, my pole-vaulting days are behind me that's for sure, but I get by,' Barry smiled showing a set of white dentures. 'And listen, if there's anything else I can do to help then you let me know, son.'

  'I will,' Shaun smiled in appreciation as he fastened his jacket.

  'You can see yourself out, can't you?'

  Shaun nodded. 'Not a problem, and thanks again.'

  Old Tom Barry watched him leave and then he headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on, his face thoughtful.

  35

  Carole listened as Bannister told her about the visit to see Clara Bell's mother, and then the trek across town to break the news to the parents of Scott Clark that their son was dead.

  Odette and Lasser stood over by the window, the darkness was now absolute, though the rain still hit the window, the wind blowing hard.

  'So, they went to the party together and on the way home they were attacked, the boy shot dead and the girl taken?' Carole asked as she tapped her pen on top of the desk.

  'That's the way it looks, Samantha Bell couldn't help us with much, she heard someone at the door, but never actually saw Scott Clark, Clara came down the stairs and went straight out through the door, and that was the last time her mother saw her.'

  Carole looked down at th
e image of Clara on her desk, the schoolgirl smiling up at her. 'And you say it was the same with Scott Clark's parents?'

  Bannister looked towards Lasser and nodded for him to fill Carole in with the details.

  'The truth is as soon as they learned what had happened, they fell to pieces, according to them he was a popular lad, got good results at school and had never been in trouble with the law. Shaun and Sally are going to the school in the morning to see what they can find out.'

  'But what about friends, surely his parents gave you some names?' Carole asked with a frown.

  Lasser could feel the heat from the radiator burning the back of his legs so he stepped forward. 'We have a few names but, like I said, it will be easier to check the school in the morning, though the truth is whoever killed Scott, and took Clara was no school kid.'

  Carole felt the tension crank up as she nodded before looking at Odette.

  'And we're sure that the woman found at Dove Cottage is Julie Rawlins?' she asked.

  'Positive.'

  'And what do we know about her?'

  Odette folded her arms and shifted her feet slightly. 'Local nurse, she shared a house with a friend, Emma Brice, they both worked at the Albert, it was Emma who came forward when Julie didn't come home. According to her, Julie had been seeing a man named Endon, but Julie caught him cheating over six months ago so she ended the relationship.'

  'Did he give her any grief?' Lasser asked.

  'Emma said he tried ringing for a week or so after she broke it off, but Julie was having none of it, we'll get him checked out, but I don't think he's the killer.'

  When the knock came at the door Carole shouted for them to enter.

  Shaun walked into the room, his hair was flat from the rain, though his face looked animated.

  'You've found something?' Lasser asked.

  Shaun came to a halt, his shoes leaving wet marks on the carpet tiles. 'I've just been to see a man named Tom Barry, he was a young officer at the time when Ethel Brab was murdered. Barry was first to arrive at Dove Cottage and he told me that Ethel Brab had been nailed to the fireplace exactly like…'

  'Julie Rawlins!' Odette gasped at the news.

  Shaun looked at her in confusion.

  'It's OK, Shaun, Odette has identified the dead woman,' Lasser explained.

  'Oh right,' Shaun said as the penny dropped.

  'And is this Tom Barry sure about what happened?' Carole asked.

  'He's positive, obviously I said nothing about this new victim and how she died, and Barry just came out with the information on how Ethel Brab was found.'

  'But why wasn't it mentioned in the reports?' Odette asked.

  Shaun pushed the wet hair back on his head. 'It was fifty years ago, files go missing, it will all have been boxed and stored away, but back then you needed more physical space than today and eventually that space runs out and it gets shifted about and mixed up. The truth is I've hardly managed to find out anything, that's why I decided to try and see if anyone involved at the time was still alive. The officer in charge died over thirty years ago and at least four other named officers who were involved in the case have passed away, but Tom Barry was still alive, so I thought it best to go and see him personally.'

  'That's good work, Shaun,' Lasser said. 'But if we didn't know how Ethel Brab had died then how the hell could the killer of Julie Rawlins have found out the details and done a perfect copycat killing?'

  Bannister scowled as he thought about what Lasser was saying, Carole and Odette both wore matching frowns of confusion.

  'It makes no bloody sense,' Bannister eventually grumbled.

  'Well, someone must have found out the details about the case, but I still don't understand why they would want to do their version of a murder that took place over fifty years ago,' Carole said as she slipped the pen into her pocket. 'We need help with this.'

  'Help?' Bannister asked in surprise.

  Glancing at him, Carole nodded. 'We have Julie Rawlins murdered and it's somehow tied in with Ethel Brab, but we also have Clark killed at the roadside, Clara Bell missing, and the truth is we're stretched too thin.'

  Bannister thought for a moment and then he nodded. 'Seems sensible,' he eventually replied.

  'Right, I want you all to get home and rest, I have a few calls to make and we need to be fresh on this one, we can't afford a mistake.'

  Half a minute later the room was empty, and Carole sighed before lifting the phone from her pocket, reluctant to make the call, yet knowing it was the right thing to do as she tapped at the screen and waited for an answer.

  36

  'Why don't you come back to the boat?' Lasser asked as he drove through the darkness.

  'Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine at the house.'

  Changing gear, Lasser glanced in the mirror, checking the road behind. 'What did Kelly say about you boat sitting?'

  'She thinks it's a great idea,' Bannister replied without much enthusiasm.

  'Have you gone off the idea?'

  The DCI shook his head. 'I was just thinking about the missing Clara Bell and Julie Rawlins, trying to fathom if there was any link between them.'

  'You think the same animal could be responsible for murdering Rawlins, Clark and taking the girl?'

  Bannister looked pained for a moment, the streetlights flashing on his grizzled features as they drove along the road. 'The bottom line is we have two murders and an abduction, no matter if it's the same bastard or there are more than one of them, we need to catch them fast before Clara Bell turns up dead.'

  Lasser could hear the anguish in Bannister's voice and he knew exactly how he felt, when his phone rang, he lifted it from his pocket and handed it over to Bannister.

  'It's Jackie,' the DCI said.

  'Can you get it for me?'

  Bannister cleared his throat before tapping at the screen. 'All right, Jackie, he's just dropping me back at the house and then he's on his way home to you.'

  Lasser heard Jackie's voice though her words were inaudible.

  'Gammon joint,' Bannister said. 'With pineapple rings and carrot mash?'

  Lasser felt the smile curl his lips, and then he checked the mirrors again, slowing the car down slightly.

  'Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to get under your feet and…'

  Jackie mumbled something else, and Bannister sniffed.

  'Well, yes, he did ask, but I don't want to be a spare part.'

  Bannister fell silent again, and Lasser knew that Jackie was insisting he come back to the boat for a proper meal.

  'Well, as long as you're sure, of course I'll come,' Bannister paused, 'I'll get Lasser to call at the off-licence and pick up a bottle of something nice.'

  Seconds later, he ended the call and dropped the phone back into Lasser's pocket.

  'That woman of yours can be very persuasive,' he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 'Do you want one of these?'

  'No thanks.'

  'Good, because it's the last in the pack.'

  Lasser sighed as he headed for the off-licence.

  37

  The man stood at the bedroom window looking down at the squat building at the end of the garden, his heart fluttering as he thought of the girl inside, gagged and tied on the single mattress, fear eating away at her resolve, madness seeping into her brain as her imagination conjured the possibilities, all of them horrific, each one ending in her death.

  Closing his eyes, he thought of the woman named Julie and the way she had screamed when she realised what was going to happen. That split second when she knew that she was going to die, the blade silencing her scream as he drove it into the top of her head.

  It had been thrilling to watch her die in the semi-darkness, her legs jerking back and forth as her head lashed from side to side, her brain exposed as he snatched the knife free and stabbed at her again.

  That had all been wonderful but then the true thrill had come when he started to use the hammer and nails, but then he had heard
the shouting from below, and suddenly he had been the one who had been tense with fear. Thankfully, he had set the scene, but it had been a close-run thing, and before he could take out his phone and snap off some pictures of the dead woman the door had opened and… He relived the moment when he leapt through the window, the drop down to the soft ground below had been exhilarating and fear-filled at the same time, and then the dash across the field to the van that had been parked on the back lane, safely tucked away in the darkness.

  He had half expected the coppers to give chase, but he had made good his escape, and now he stood in the darkness, his gaze locked on the breeze-block structure as he tried to contemplate what to do next.

  Moving away from the window, he sat down on the bed and lifted the laptop onto his knees, his finger sliding over the pad, manipulating the cursor before clicking it.

  Images appeared on the screen, the first showed the interior of Dove Cottage, he had taken it himself weeks ago, the flash had illuminated the grimy room, and he had tried to think back fifty years to when the house had been lived in and Ethel Brab had died. In his mind, he superimposed the image of the woman, named Julie onto Ethel Brab's body, nailed to the fireplace, her head bowed forward, her fair hair drenched red.

  With a sigh, he tapped his finger again and another image appeared, this one showed dense woodland, the semi-ancient trees towering towards the sky, again the images had all been taken by him, and his eyes moved slowly over the pictures, one showed a swollen river passing under a metal bridge, the embankment on the other side tree-lined and rising steeply.

  It was another place that had history and he loved, no he lived for history, it was always more thrilling than the here and now. In fact, the older he became the more he tried to escape into the past and the part that intrigued him the most was murder, or rather unsolved murders.

  Tapping at the keys, the woodland images vanished to be replaced by one that showed an old brick mill in the centre of town, he had spent a full afternoon there snapping off images of the huge building. It had originally been built at the start of the industrial revolution, a time when the town was becoming the King of Coal, the powerhouse of the north, he had imagined the clatter of the machinery, the shuttles flying back and forth, the hustle and bustle of a mill working at full capacity. The canal at the back of the building ready to take in the raw cotton and then ship it back out again as spun thread.