Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021)

by Robin Roughley

  'Forty?' Carole asked.

  'In fact, it's more,' Roger said apologetically as he tapped at the keys and another list of names appeared.

  'Bloody hell that almost doubles the original list,' Bannister said as his eyes skimmed over the new list of names.

  Carole and Odette headed around the desk, they all stood there staring at the long list of names from the past.

  'We need to find out which of this lot are still alive,' Lasser said, his expression grim.

  'But even the youngest of them would be an old man by now,' Carole said.

  'Yeah, but when the murders were taking place, they wouldn't have been hobbling around on a Zimmer frame,' Bannister said in a voice crammed with pent-up anger.

  'And you really think that whoever killed Ross could now be in touch with the animal who murdered Julie Rawlins and kidnapped Clara Bell?' Odette asked.

  'Yeah, and the killer still has Morgan Pence, but if we can find out who flattened Ross then it could lead us to the bastard who has the girl,' Bannister said.

  'Roger do you need help with this?' Carole suddenly asked.

  Pursing his lips, Roger thought for a moment before shaking his head. 'It should be easy enough to find out who on the list is still alive, I would imagine a lot of the officers are long gone by now.'

  'Good man,' Bannister's voice rose as he clapped Roger on the back.

  Carole looked at her watch and then she moved to another desk and logged onto the computer. 'I'll stay and give you a lift.'

  'What do you want us to do?' Lasser asked.

  'Like Roger said, it should be easy to find out who is still alive, so as soon as we have names, these individuals will need checking, so take separate cars and we'll patch the addresses through to you.'

  'Well, we know Tom Barry is still alive,' Roger piped up as he tapped at the keys.

  'He's the guy Shaun spoke to after we found Julie Rawlins?'

  'Yeah, he lives over in Orrell.'

  'Give me the address, I'll check him out again,' Lasser said.

  Seconds later, he was heading for the door as Odette and Bannister waited for another name to emerge from the list, the tension cranking up.

  92

  Clara sat on her bed, the familiarity of her surroundings easing her mind. Her mother was having a bath and she looked down at the bandages on her wrist, shivering at the memories, the frantic hours when she had tried to free her hands, the horror of being carried through the woods and the madness as she managed to escape and dash up the embankment, running through the rain-drenched field.

  Closing her eyes, she thought of Morgan, and the moment she had been dumped onto the mattress and, for the briefest of moments, Clara had felt an immense sense of relief just to see another human being, but now the guilt grew inside as she thought of Morgan still being kept prisoner in the breeze-block building.

  Lowering her head, she sighed heavily, knowing that the killer would not fall for the same trick twice, he hadn't expected her to fight back and she had caught him unawares, that one chance had allowed her to thrust him down the steep incline and flee.

  She thought of the skull and bones they had found close to the field and realised that she must have dashed straight past them without knowing when she had been scrambling up the drenched incline.

  Rising from the bed, she headed over to the window and eased a gap in the curtain, it was still raining though the wind seemed to have dropped, the garden was full of shadow though she could see the greenhouse in the corner, the inside empty until the weather warmed up, and then her mum would plant the tomatoes. It was all familiar and yet she couldn't shift the thought of Morgan from her mind, she closed the curtain before turning and looking around the room. At the hospital, the officer called Lasser had asked her questions about what had actually happened, she had told him everything she could remember, though she knew it wouldn't be enough to help them find Morgan before it was…

  'Too late,' she whispered the words, and then screwed her eyed closed. She needed to think, she had to try and remember more, otherwise Morgan Pence would die, and Clara knew she would find that hard to bear.

  Taking a deep breath, she went right back to the beginning, Scott moaning about the party and the weather and…

  Clara Bell chewed her bottom lip as she went slowly through each memory, determined to find something new, something that would help.

  93

  Lasser sat on the lumpy sofa, Tom Barry opposite in the kind of chair you would find in a care home, high-backed and dark green in colour.

  'I worked with Ross for years, but I bet I only spoke a few words to him in all that time,' Barry said with a nod of the head. 'Still, he didn't deserve to be knocked down like that.'

  'How long did you work in the force?' Lasser asked as he slid the zip down on his jacket.

  'Sixty-nine to ninety-nine.'

  'Man and boy then?' Lasser smiled.

  'Aye, I guess you could say that.'

  'Ross was in charge of the Ethel Brab case, wasn't he?'

  Barry shifted slightly in the chair, stretching his legs out onto the rug. 'Yeah, he was and there were other murder cases that were never solved.'

  The flames in the gas fire flickered, the room was small, a standard lamp in the corner throwing out a cone of light that lit half the room.

  'He was in charge of the lass that we found on top of the mill as well.'

  'Norma Rowbottom?'

  'You've heard of her then?' Barry asked without surprise.

  Lasser nodded.

  'That was a grim one, the killer had taken her eyes,' the old man said.

  Lasser managed to keep the grimace from showing but only just. 'What about clues, what came up?'

  Barry sighed. 'Not much to be honest, I mean, it was different back then, everything was leg work, there were no computers, and half the town didn't even have phones.'

  'But you must have had people who had offended in the past?' Lasser asked as he sank back into the sofa.

  'Oh aye, there were one or two, their alibis were checked and held fast.'

  'Do you think the two murders were linked?'

  Barry thought for a moment and then shrugged. 'Hard to tell.'

  'Well, what about Ross, what was his opinion?'

  'No idea, back then senior officers were like Gods, you never thought of asking them owt, they just told you what to do and you did it.'

  Lasser could feel the frustration building as Barry looked at him and gave a slight shrug.

  'Sounds unbelievable I know, but that's just the way it was.'

  'Did you ever move up in rank?'

  Barry tapped at the chair arm with his index finger before shaking his head. 'Nah, I was happy in uniform, I mean, there were two others who started at the same time as me and they ended up climbing the pole, but it never interested me.'

  'You liked the personal touch then?' Lasser asked.

  Tom Barry reached for his pipe from the small table at the side of his chair and started to fill it. 'I think a lot was lost when they took the bobby off the beat, I used to know everyone back then, and folks trusted me, but all that's gone now, you never see a copper patrolling the streets these days, they're all in their cars or sat at the station waiting for summat to happen.'

  Lasser thought for a moment before answering. 'I understand what you mean, but to be honest, back in the early seventies the local force was a lot bigger than it is now.'

  'Oh, I get that, and it wasn't a criticism, it's just that not all changes have been for the best.'

  'Well, I can agree with that,' Lasser paused, 'you said that the detectives back then were treated like gods, but can you remember if Ross was close to any other members of the team?'

  Barry shifted slightly in the chair and winced as if he felt some kind of discomfort simply by sitting in the chair, then he struck a Swan Vesta and lit the pipe, the pungent scent of tobacco filled the air as he sighed in contentment.

  'Well, like I said, the two lads who
started at the same time as me ended up as detectives. One of them moved about a bit but he always ended up back here, the other was killed in the late seventies, he got clobbered in town, he was off for the night and they think it was someone who he must have sent down in the past who attacked him.'

  'Was the attacker caught?'

  Barry shook his head. 'Nope, they found Jimmy Hall down one of the alleys near the John Bull, in the end it was decided that there must have been more than one attacker, but they finished him there and then, beaten and stabbed.'

  Lasser had the sudden urge to ask if they had ever solved a serious crime but then he decided against it.

  'What about the other guy?'

  'What other guy?' Barry asked in confusion.

  'The one who kept moving about?'

  'Oh right, Donald Finder ended up as a DCI just like Bob Ross, in fact he took over when Ross retired.'

  'And what was he like?'

  Lasser saw Tom Barry pull a face behind the cloud of smoke. 'Have you ever come across the kind of bloke who starts out as a mate and ends up an arsehole?'

  'Once or twice,' Lasser admitted.

  'Well, Don Finder was one of those, the higher he climbed the more he thought he was above everyone else. In the end he hardly spoke to the blokes he had worked with from the start.'

  'So, he wasn't approachable?' Lasser asked as the smoke drifted across the room.

  'Christ no,' Barry paused, 'but he was successful at the job, I'll give him that.'

  'What about Ethel Brab and Norma Rowbottom?'

  'Like me, Finder was in uniform back then, and by the time he made detective things had moved on, you know what it's like, crime never sleeps.'

  'Does the name Penny Salter mean anything to you?' Lasser asked.

  'Blimey, that's a blast from the past.'

  'You remember her then?'

  'I do, if I remember rightly, they found Norma on the roof of the mill around the same time that Penny Salter went missing and…'

  'It was the same day, Penny vanished, and Norma was found strangled.'

  Barry's weather-beaten face creased in concentration. 'Aye you're right it did happen on the same day.'

  'I dare say you were all busy trying to catch Norma's killer, and Penny got put on the back burner?'

  The old man checked his pipe before puffing it contentedly. 'I remember we searched the park and a couple of days later we went over to the woods and…'

  'Which woods?' Lasser interrupted as he eased forward slightly.

  'Borsdane.'

  'Why did you head over there?'

  Barry frowned again. 'We were never included in the whys and wherefores, I just assumed that the boss must have got some information from a member of the public, like I said, uniforms were basically treated like dog shit.'

  For the briefest of moments, Lasser saw the look of anger spark in the old man's eyes and then he was blowing more smoke into the already thick air. 'Did you even know what you were searching for?' he asked, trying to keep the disbelief from coming through in his voice.

  'Oh, we knew it was Penny Salter that we were looking for, but that's all we were told, nothing more than that.'

  'And how long did you search for?'

  'Half a day and then it was called off.'

  'Half a bloody day!?' this time Lasser could do nothing to hide the anger.

  Barry shrugged. 'I know it sounds pathetic, but while we were searching, Norma Rowbottom was found so we were told to pack up and head back to the station.'

  'And what happened then?'

  'Bugger all, we never went back to the woods that's for sure, of course whoever killed Ethel Brab was never caught and the same with Norma Rowbottom, though we never knew if the same killer was responsible for both murders.'

  'Have you ever heard of Susan Hope?' Lasser asked though by now he was finding it hard to keep a lid on his temper.

  'Bloody hell, what's this all about?'

  'It's about murder, Mr Barry, now were you involved in the Hope case?'

  More pipe smoke drifted from the bowl. 'To be honest not much, she was found in seventy-seven I think,' he looked at Lasser who nodded in agreement.

  'Dumped in a river that went under the slag heaps near West Leigh,' Lasser said.

  'That's right, poor lass.'

  'Do you know if she died there or was she thrown into the river somewhere else?'

  'Oh, she died there or close to the river edge, it was summertime, and the river wasn't in a rush to get anywhere, so if her killer had dumped her somewhere else her body wouldn't have been washed into the tunnel.'

  'Right,' Lasser said as he worked through Barry's reasoning. 'And how far from the road is this river?'

  'Fifty, sixty yards.'

  'So, not far?'

  'God no, she was walking home and there were a couple of sightings of her heading towards Dangerous Corner, but it's thought that the killer must have been waiting in the undergrowth and he snatched her as she walked past, then dragged her down to the river and killed her.'

  'And what did Ross do this time to catch her killer?'

  'Ah well, Ross was off sick with the flu and Finder took control of that one.'

  'Did he do anything different to Ross?'

  Again, Barry's face settled into a scowl. 'He made out like he did, he even had a portable incident room set up on the roadside, he had everyone dashing about, but it all amounted to bugger all, they never caught the one that killed her,' Barry paused to take another puff on the pipe, 'you think these killings could be connected, don't you?' he asked.

  Lasser thought before answering. 'It's a possibility but we can't be one hundred percent certain, at least not yet.'

  'You'll know about Pam Frost and Sharon Bliss then?'

  Lasser nodded slowly. 'They're on our list,' he admitted.

  Barry sighed. 'The thing is when you spend your whole career working in one town then when a murder happens it comes as a shock and sticks in your mind.'

  Lasser looked at Barry, he was right of course, Wigan had its fair share of trouble, now more than ever before, and in the grand scheme of things six unsolved murder over such a long time span would hardly make headline news, but Tom Barry remembered them all. 'Did you know that none of the women were sexually assaulted?' he suddenly asked.

  'Aye, I did.'

  'Doesn't that strike you as unusual?'

  'I guess so,' Barry paused, 'and by Christ the years have flown since then.'

  'Not for the families of the victims it hasn't,' Lasser said with a sigh.

  'Is this to do with what happened at Dove Cottage the other night?'

  'It is,' Lasser admitted, seeing no point in trying to avoid answering the question.

  'It's a sick world with sick people in it,' Barry said, placing the pipe back on the coffee table, his finger once more tapping on the chair arm.

  'Do you know if Donald Finder is still alive?'

  'Oh, he's alive all right, we both retired around the same time, I got a carriage clock, and he went on to be a local councillor, he ran for mayor a couple of times but didn't get it – which would have pissed him off no end.'

  'An ambitious man then?' Lasser asked as the flames in the gas fire continued to flicker blue.

  'Always was, and I don't think he ever really changed. Last time I saw him was a couple of years ago, there was a station reunion, and he was there lauding it about with his nose in the air.'

  'He didn't have a pint and a sausage roll with you then?'

  Barry snorted a laugh. 'Donald Finder was never a pint man, he drank wine before it was fashionable, and I doubt he's ever had a sausage roll.'

  'Do you have an address?' Lasser asked.

  'Aye, he lives out near Chorley in an old vicarage.'

  Lasser eased forward a little further until he was perched on the edge of the sofa. 'Chorley?'

  'That's right, I've never been to the place, but no doubt his kitchen is bigger than this hovel,' he said as he looked around
the small living room and sighed.

  Lasser started to get an idea of the man, and an image began to form in his mind, tall, straight backed and grey haired, dressed in an immaculate suit of black or dark grey.

  'The first time he left the area I never expected to see him again, but he was like a bad penny, he always came back to the town and in the end, he virtually ran the Wigan force.'

  Suddenly, the question popped into Lasser's mind and he felt his own frown form. 'I know this is asking a lot, but can you remember where he served and the dates he was gone from the town?'

  'Aye, he left in seventy-three moved over to Warrington and then he came back late seventy-six, it was bloody roasting that year, and then he buggered off again in seventy-eight and came back in eighty-four.'

  As he listened, Lasser did the calculations and then he quickly rose to his feet. 'You say he lives in a vicarage?'

  'Aye, it's about half a mile after the White Crow Inn on the left, big imposing-looking place.'

  'Right, Mr Barry, thanks for your help,' he said before heading for the door.

  Barry watched him go, picking up the pipe again as he heard the front door open and close, then he eased back puffing at the pipe, a small smile plucking at his thin-lipped mouth.

  94

  Morgan woke with a start when she heard the key in the lock and, for a few seconds, she was smothered in confusion and then the terror came flooding back as the door opened and she saw the long shadow cast onto the concrete floor.

  'Hello, Morgan,' he said, she felt the confusion clatter through her mind, then she twisted her head and looked up, her eyes widening as Robert Flack looked down at her, the plate held in one hand, a glass of milk in the other. 'Surprised to see me no doubt,' he bent down and placed the plate and glass on the floor.

  'Believe me, you're lucky I'm even feeding you, I've seen the way you've looked at me in the past, arrogance from a little cunt like you has been hard to bear, but not anymore,' Flack snarled.

  Morgan couldn't respond, couldn't believe that her dad's business partner was here, that he was the one who had attacked her and brought her here gagged and tied, she just stared at him immobile with the shock of it.