Vanished Beneath: DS Lasser six (The Lasser series Book 6)

by Robin Roughley

  'You were right, Med, he's to die for,' Emma beamed, her eyes of pale blue blinked up at him.

  'You should have gone to Specsavers, Emma,' Lasser said with a smile.

  'I'm not pished if that's what you're suggesting?'

  'I...'

  'Medea said you were good looking but I've seen some of the blokes she's been out with and you are a definite improvement.'

  Medea spluttered out a giggle.

  'Glad to hear it.'

  Emma kissed his cheek again and Lasser managed to disentangle himself. 'So, I can guess what you two have been doing all day and I would imagine you're starving, so, who fancies a curry?'

  Both women thrust their hands into the air like know-all schoolgirls desperate to be the teacher's pet. When their eyes met, they both broke into gales of uncontrollable laughter. Lasser went in search of the takeaway menu.

  Two hours later, they were sitting in the lounge with the radio on low, Lasser sat in the bouncy chair from IKEA, Medea and Emma were lounging on the sofa both wrapped in matching fluffy bathrobes.

  Emma slid a strand of damp hair behind her left ear, 'I can't remember the last time I drank so much.'

  Medea yawned and nodded. 'I know what you mean.'

  Kicking off his shoes, Lasser slid his feet onto the coffee table. 'You'll pay for it in the morning that's for sure,' he said as he sipped at his can of Coke.

  'Medea tells me you're a detective?'

  'For my sins.'

  'It must be cool chasing the bad guys.'

  Lasser smiled. 'I try not to run unless absolutely necessary.'

  'Remember, Med, I wanted to be in the police force once?'

  Medea rubbed at her eyes. 'I also remember you wanted to be an actress, a ballet dancer and oh yeah, at one stage you wanted to be the first woman to step on the moon.'

  'Hey, that could still happen.'

  'Medea tells me you're a graphic designer?' Lasser asked.

  'Yeah, but I'm thinking of a career change.'

  'You never told me,' Medea said with a frown.

  Emma shrugged, the central heating grumbled, 'To tell you the truth I'm getting tired of living in London. Don't get me wrong, the job pays well,’ she paused, ‘but I fancy a change.'

  Lasser popped a samosa into his mouth. 'What do you fancy doing?'

  'I'm not sure but I'd like to move back up north.'

  Medea shot up in her seat. 'You mean move back here?'

  'Well, if I can land the right job then I'd love to.'

  Medea looked at Lasser and then poked out her tongue. 'See I told you this was great place to live.'

  Lasser held up his hands. 'Hey, you'll get no argument from me.'

  Medea grinned and gave a sharp nod.

  'In fact, when I knew I was coming up here I managed to arrange a couple of interviews...'

  'Oh wow, really?' Medea was suddenly wide-awake. 'That would be wonderful, Em.'

  'So, keep your fingers crossed.'

  'Where are these interviews?' Lasser asked as he reached for the poppadum’s.

  'One's in Preston working for the Lancashire Life Magazine.'

  'Do they use graphic designers?'

  Emma see-sawed a hand, 'Well, I'll be working on the layout and apparently they're looking for someone with a proven track record.'

  'Which you have!' Medea beamed.

  Emma smiled. 'And the other one is based in Manchester, so, if I can land either one of them, then Wigan would be ideal for a base.'

  Lasser lifted his can. 'Well, here's to you, Emma, and good luck.'

  'Thanks.'

  Wiping his fingers on a paper napkin, Lasser rose to his feet and began gathering up the empty foil trays. 'Right, I'll just get rid of this lot and then I'm off to bed.'

  Medea blinked up at him. 'But it's only half ten.'

  Lasser dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers, tasting sweet wine on his tongue. 'For the next three weeks you're a lady of leisure, I on the other hand, have to be up early.'

  'Is Bannister being a pig again?' Medea asked.

  'No more than usual. Listen, you two have great night and maybe I’ll see you in the morning.'

  Emma gave him a small wave as he headed from the room. Medea blew him a kiss.

  As soon as the door closed, Medea leaned forward. 'So what do you think?' she whispered.

  'Well, if you ever have a change of heart make sure you let me know then I can go after him.'

  Medea smiled like the cat that got the cream. 'Hands off, bitch, he's all mine.'

  Emma smiled in return.

  9

  Lasser made it to the station with twenty minutes to spare; Susan Coyle was just pulling onto the car park in her bright red mini so he hung around and waited for her.

  'Morning, Susan,' he said as she climbed from the car.

  'Good morning, sir.'

  'How was your Saturday?'

  'My boyfriend's got man-flu so he was laid up in bed all day while I played Florence Nightingale.'

  'Well, I hope he does the same for you if you catch it.'

  She blipped the alarm and smiled. 'I never get colds.'

  Spenner pulled in through the gates on his moped, the engine whining like a bee trapped in a bottle. Parking up, he wandered over, pulling off his helmet and sticking it under his left arm like a severed head; Lasser could see dark circles beneath his eyes, his nose bright red.

  'You should have followed Doc Shannon's advice and stayed in bed, Spenner.'

  'I'll be alright, sir,' he said and then coughed loudly.

  Coyle raised an eyebrow at Lasser as they made their way to the entrance; Lasser slid his card through the slot and pushed the double doors open.

  Bannister was just crossing the room brew in hand. 'Morning, you lot.'

  'Morning, sir,' Susan said with a smile, Spenner grimaced and sneezed.

  Bannister stopped. 'You look like shit, Spenner.'

  'I'll get by, sir,' he mumbled forlornly.

  'Good man, now come on we might as well get started.'

  'Aren't we waiting for the others to get here?' Lasser asked.

  'Don't be a lazy sod, Lasser, there’s always things to be done.'

  They followed Bannister through another set of double doors and down a long beige coloured corridor before entering the incident room. Lasser wandered to the front, images of the three bodies pulled from the lake had been blue-tacked to a whiteboard. Susan Coyle moved up to his shoulder.

  'Who are these three?' she asked.

  'That's what we have to find out, Susan.'

  She looked over her shoulder and blushed; Bannister took a gulp from the plastic cup and smiled before slipping off his jacket and sliding it over the back of his chair.

  Lasser looked closely at the images. The one of the man looked ghastly, the face bloated the eyes had vanished beneath the swelling the nose looked huge. Lasser heard voices behind him as people began to arrive. The dark-haired woman in the photo had been cleaned up; her features were narrow and delicate. The blond girl was the only one whose eyes were open, though a week in the water had left them opaque and milk white.

  'Right, everyone sit down and shut up!'

  Lasser turned, surprised to see the room half full with officers.

  'Lasser, grab a pew.' Bannister pointed to an empty seat at the front.

  'Right,' he mumbled before sitting down.

  Bannister scanned the room before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. 'Three unidentified bodies were pulled from a lake at the top end of Hall Lane yesterday morning,' he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. 'As you can see, we have one male and two females, no identification was found on the bodies though the man has the name 'Shelly' tattooed on his left buttock.' Someone sniggered and Bannister glared. 'Now, we're still waiting for a definite from the lab but we suspect death was caused by an overdose of some kind, although this one,' he moved back and jabbed his finger towards the dark haired woman, 'shows no sign of drug abuse, that's not to say she w
asn't a user but we can surmise that she didn't inject the stuff.'

  Bob Fletcher flicked up a hand.

  'Yes, Bob.'

  'Do we know if there are any more bodies in the water, boss?'

  'We still have a search team in place, though it could take a few days to be one hundred percent certain but for now we concentrate on these three. Now, it seems unlikely that they were local, Coyle and Wright, I want you to check the missing persons register see if you can come up with a match.'

  'Yes, sir,' they both said at the same time.

  'I want the rest of you out knocking on doors, especially places that harbour drug takers, let's lift a few stones and see what comes crawling out. Cooper and Chadwick, I want you to take Millers Lane estate, we have a fair idea who deals around there and I want them checking out.'

  Cooper and Chadwick looked pleased.

  'Now obviously, these three didn't throw themselves into the water, someone dumped them there and we need to find out who did it.'

  'Surely it's got to be a dealer, sir,' Spenner said.

  Bannister folded his arms. 'Enlighten me, Mr Spenner.'

  Spenner stood up, the end of his nose glowing red. 'Well, look at them, we have a middle-aged man, a young woman and one in between, only a dealer would come into contact with three people from different demographics.'

  Bannister blinked in surprise. 'Possible I suppose.'

  Lasser smiled.

  'I'd say it was a definite,' Spenner said with a hint of nasal pomposity.

  One or two people cleared their throats; Spenner looked around the room before sitting back down and folding his arms.

  Bannister drummed his fingers on the desk. 'Although PC Spenner has raised a valid point, we keep open minds and see where the evidence takes us, is that understood?'

  ‘Yes, sirs,’ filled the room, Lasser noticed that Spenner kept his mouth closed.

  'Right, let's get this sorted, I want an update by the end of the day.'

  The room emptied in record time.

  'Right, Lasser, you know the scumbags of this town, who would be capable of something like this?'

  Lasser thought for a moment. 'Well, if it's heavy hitters you want then the Mellor brothers are probably top of the tree this week.'

  'The scrap-yard Mellor’s?'

  'Yeah, their old man was legit, but when he died they started to branch out.'

  'Have we had them in before?'

  'Boris...'

  'Bloody Boris!'

  Lasser smiled. 'I know what you're thinking, I bet he got some stick as a kid?'

  'Ridiculous name for a scrap metal dealer.'

  'Yeah well, you haven't heard the best yet; Boris is about thirty five, his brother Norvil...'

  Bannister barked out a laugh. 'You're taking the piss now, Sergeant, please tell me you're taking the piss?'

  'Sorry, boss, Norvil and Boris Mellor, the names are laughable but they're a pair of bastards. They used to do a bit of dealing for Callum Green...'

  'And seeing as he's serving a life sentence for murder they decided to try and fill his boots?'

  'That's about the size of it.'

  'So, go on, you were saying they've been dragged in for what exactly?'

  'Oh yeah sorry, well Boris has a temper, handy with his fists; he put a couple in hospital because they laughed when they heard his name.'

  'A couple?'

  'He drinks in the Masons, and this bloke was in with his wife, they were passing through and decided to call in for a drink. Unfortunately for them, it all went pear-shaped.'

  Bannister's face hardened. 'He hit the woman as well?'

  'Head butted her and broke her nose.'

  'Bastard!'

  'He served six months in Strangeways, it would have been longer, but the locals said this bloke started it, and the woman just happened to get in the way while Boris was swinging a fist.'

  'So his mates lied?'

  'To be honest they had no choice, if they'd spilled the beans then Boris would have come down heavy.'

  Bannister clapped his hands. 'Right, let's go and pay them a visit,' he said as he stalked towards the door.

  Lasser followed, hurrying to keep up.

  10

  Medea nudged the bedroom door open with her hip, two cups of steaming coffee clasped in her hands.

  'Are you awake, Em?' she whispered.

  Emma groaned and pulled the duvet over her head; Medea smiled and placed one of the cups onto the bedside cabinet before perching on the edge of the bed.

  'I've brought you a coffee, black and sweet.'

  Emma peeped out from beneath the cover. 'God, why did we drink so much and how come you're not hung over.'

  'Ah, that's because I get plenty of practice.'

  Sitting up Emma rubbed at her bleary eyes. 'What time is it?'

  'Ten to nine.'

  'God, Med, it's the middle of the night!'

  'I thought London was the city that never sleeps?'

  'I'm meant to be on holiday and besides I never normally drink so much.'

  'You're turning into a southern softie.'

  Emma picked the drink up and took a sip. 'So, what's the plan for today?'

  'Up to you, you can either stay in bed all day like a wimp or we can get dressed and hit the shops?'

  'I don't really fancy trawling around the market, Med.'

  'Yes well, we might not have a Harvey Nicks, but the new Grand Arcade has a few names you might recognise.'

  'Ha, ha.'

  'So, what do you say?'

  Emma pulled the duvet up to her chin. 'Let me finish this and grab a shower and then I'm all yours.'

  Medea smiled as she headed for the door. 'You've got half an hour.'

  As soon as she'd gone Emma grabbed her bag from the floor and pulled out her phone, when she saw all the missed calls and voicemails she chewed her bottom lip anxiously before deleting the lot and dropping the phone back into her bag.

  11

  Lasser parked up alongside a rusting bulldozer, Bannister looked out at a mountain of twisted scrap metal.

  'It reminds me of your living room before Medea came along.' Bannister said with a deadpan expression.

  Ignoring him, Lasser climbed from the car. The office consisted of two portable cabins stacked one on top of the other, a metal staircase connecting one to the other.

  Bannister stretched his arms skyward and yawned, when the huge German shepherd bulleted out from between a stack of engine blocks the DCI sprang back in shock. The animal snapped its jaws, massive teeth flashing, the chain around its neck rattled like Marley's ghost.

  Lasser grinned. 'Don't annoy the dog, boss, it's not nice.'

  Bannister glared down at the animal before walking around the back of the car. 'Did you park here deliberately, Sergeant?'

  'Come on, what do you take me for?'

  'A bastard, that's what I take you for,' Bannister snapped.

  They were half way to the office when the door opened and a man in a pair of black overalls poked his head outside. His hair was a mop of black, his cheeks smudged with engine oil.

  'Bella, shut the fuck up!'

  The huge animal skulked back to its kennel, tail tucked under, head low to the ground.

  'Hello, Boris, how are you, mate?' Lasser said with a smile.

  'What the fuck do you want, Lasser?'

  Lasser looked at his boss. 'See, I told you he was a friendly guy.'

  Bannister frowned as he strode forward.

  Boris Mellor looked Bannister up and down. 'And who are you?'

  'DCI Bannister,' he replied brandishing his warrant card.

  'Am I meant to be impressed, sunshine, because I tell you now I ain’t?'

  'Where's your brother?'

  'Out.'

  Bannister climbed the three steps to the door, Boris didn't budge an inch.

  'I suppose you'll have to do then.'

  'Yeah well, I was just on my way out as well.'

  'This won't take lon
g, now, are you inviting us in or not?'

  Boris frowned and stepped to one side, Lasser grinned as he walked past.

  The cabin was basic; the walls scuffed and coated with dust, grease and tobacco stains. A large desk had been pushed up to one wall, a huge mustard coloured swivel chair stood in front of it. Lasser eyed the calendar on the wall; it showed a bevy of half-naked women draped over a brand new JCB.

  'So, what's this all about?' Mellor asked as he plonked himself down in the chair.

  'Drugs, Mr Mellor.'

  'No thanks I never touch the stuff.'

  'But you don't mind sharing it do you, Boris?'

  Mellor frowned and picked a pencil up from the desk, placing the blunt end into his left ear, he wriggled it around for a few seconds before pulling it free and studying the waxy end. 'I don't have a clue what you're talking about.'

  'You and your brother used to be friendly with Callum Green and we know you're still dealing...'

  'So, arrest me or fuck off.'

  Lasser looked out of the window; he could see half a dozen men lounging by the side of a lock-up, a couple were smoking cigarettes, all six coated with grime and oil. 'Tell me, Boris, how many men do you have working here?'

  Boris swivelled his chair around. 'Why, what's it to you?'

  Lasser shrugged. 'Just humour me.'

  'Depends how busy we are, sometimes there can be ten, fifteen maybe, but when it's quiet we just have five permanent members of staff.'

  'Get you, Boris, ''members of staff,'' you almost sound legit.'

  Boris Mellor frowned.

  'Are they local men?' Lasser asked.

  'Look, what's this all about; you come here snooping around with your big noses and...?'

  'Don't dodge the question, Boris, are the men local?'

  'Polish,' Mellor snapped before tossing the pencil back onto the desk.

  'What's wrong with employing local lads?'

  Boris snorted in derision. 'You're having a laugh, the lads around here are all lazy bastards, you can't get 'em out of fucking bed, and when they do turn up, all they want to do is take the piss...'

  'So, these lads are good workers then?'

  'They're alright.'

  Bannister lifted the calendar from the wall and flicked through the pages. 'What you really mean is they'll work for next to nothing and put up with any shit you throw at them?'