Mellor scowled. 'Funny man.'
'So, you've never heard of Donny Elliot and you have no idea who Iknoff is?'
'That's right.'
'Well, that's strange because Mr Iknoff seems to know you.'
Mellor's eyes narrowed, his tongue darted out to lick a bead of sweat from his top lip. 'Perhaps he worked here in the past.'
'But, like you said you wouldn't know?'
'Our Boris...'
Bannister flapped a hand. 'We know all about Boris and what he does Mr Mellor.'
'So, where is he today?' Lasser asked.
'I haven't a clue.'
Bannister smiled. 'That's what he said about you when we called the other day, 'I'm not my brother's keeper,' I think those were his exact words.'
'Look...'
'And now you're going to tell us you have someplace you need to be.'
Norvil frowned; pinpricks of perspiration broke out on his grimy forehead. 'Do I need to be calling my lawyer?'
'We'll let you know after the translator arrives.'
'Translator?'
'Yes, Mr Iknoff's English isn't up to much so we're bringing in someone who can help us understand what he has to say. However, from the way he's been acting I would imagine he wants to unburden himself, he seems very tense, very agitated.'
Norvil tried to appear nonchalant though his eyes were watchful, uncertainty flickering in the depths.
'Yeah well, it can't be easy having you lot breathing down his neck.'
Lasser pulled out his cigarettes and sparked up, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the sky. 'Tell me, Norvil, why haven't you asked what we're doing with Iknoff?'
Norvil shrugged, 'Because it's none of my business.'
'You're not even a bit curious?'
'I'm not like you lot, I don't spend my life sticking my nose into things that don't concern me.'
'Bully for you, Norvil.'
The scrap man glared at Lasser. 'You won't be a copper forever, Lasser.'
Lasser unfolded his arms. 'Is that some kind of veiled threat, Norvil?'
Norvil smiled, 'Just an observation.'
Bannister tossed his car keys into the air. 'Right then, Norvil, we'll catch up with you soon.'
'Whatever,' he replied in a bored voice.
'By the way, you don't have any foreign holidays booked do you?'
'Why?'
'Because I don't want to have to come back here to discover you and that brother of yours have gone sunning yourselves on the Costa del Crime.'
'We've got a business to run, we won't be going anywhere.'
Bannister grinned. 'We'll see about that, Mr Mellor.'
Nodding to Lasser they climbed back into the car, Norvil watched as they drove towards the gates. As soon as they'd left he pulled out his mobile and jabbed at the button.
After three rings, his brother answered. 'Listen, Boz, we've got a problem.'
42
'You go, Med, I'll make a start on the food.'
Medea slid her coat from the back of the kitchen chair. 'Are you sure, I mean, we could go together and sort the tea when we get back?'
They were standing in the kitchen the last of the afternoon sunshine spilled in through the window, warm and honey coloured.
'Honestly, I think I know where everything is and I'd like to cook you something for a change, you just pick a nice wine to go with it.'
Medea slid her black hair from the collar of her jacket. 'I know but you're a guest I don't expect you to slave over a hot oven.'
'Well, I was going to make a salad so the only thing I'll be boiling is the eggs.'
'Is there anything you want me to pick up while I'm out?'
Emma pulled open the fridge and had a quick rummage in the veg box. 'Nope, it looks as if you have everything I need.'
'OK, I won't be long.'
'What about Lasser, should I make him something?'
Medea checked her watch. 'Well, he should be home soon unless something's cropped up at work.'
'I'll put him a plate out.'
Medea fished the car keys from her pocket. 'No problem and if you need me I've got my mobile.'
Emma flapped her hands. 'You're starting to sound like my mother.'
Medea smiled as she left the room, half a minute later Emma heard the car fire to life, then she lifted out her phone and checked the screen. When she saw the message box was empty she frowned and checked her voicemails, feeling the relief flood through her as the metallic voice informed her she had none to retrieve.
Suddenly she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, perhaps he'd got the message and realised that she wasn't coming back. Maybe he'd already moved on or perhaps he was back at the flat licking his wounds. Whatever, it didn't really matter, the important thing was he was out of her life and she could make plans to build a new one that didn't have Andrew Forbes in it.
Pulling the lettuce from the fridge she felt herself relax, humming as she lopped off the stem of the veg with the large kitchen knife.
When the knock came at the door, she frowned before running her hands under the hot water tap. Half a minute later she was heading for the kitchen door, tea towel in hand and a smile of contentment on her face.
43
Lasser glanced at the clock on the dashboard, checking his mirrors before indicating right.
Bannister had arranged a morning debrief and given a warning to Lasser not to be late before telling him to bugger off home. Trouble was Lasser couldn't get used to these early finishes, that's why he now found himself driving back down the road that led to Mary Sheldon's house.
Half past five and the road was deserted apart from a couple of young kids kicking a ball around in the street. One was wearing a Liverpool kit, the other dressed in the blue and white of Wigan Athletic.
Lasser pulled up outside Mary's house and climbed from the car just as the ball bounced towards him. Trapping it beneath his right foot, he smiled over at the boy in red before lashing at the ball, the football shot off to the right sailing over a garden wall before landing in a flowerbed.
'Sorry about that, I must be out of practice.'
The boys looked back at him, both had hands on hips as if waiting for some imaginary ref to brandish a yellow card.
When the front door of the house opened, both boys sighed simultaneously.
'Right that's it, I've warned you two about kicking the ball over my fence.'
'But it wasn't us, Mr Beck!' The one in blue pleaded.
'Don't be telling me your lies I bloody saw you.'
'Actually it was me that kicked the ball.' Lasser said with a guilty smile.
Beck looked towards Lasser his face soured from years of complaining about the kids in the street; from the lads kicking their damn footballs, to the little girls who chalked on the pavements while they played hopscotch, he hated them all.
'You!' he said in disbelief.
Lasser held up an apologetic hand. 'I'm sorry, I'm no Wayne Rooney, but...'
'Look at the state of my daffs.' Beck pointed at the flowerbed.
Lasser mounted the kerb and looked to where the ball had landed, half a dozen daffodils lay flat in to the soil from where the ball had ploughed through them.
'Ah.'
'Ah, bloody ah, is that all you have to say?'
'Sorry about that it was an accident.'
'Tell that to me daffs.' Beck spat.
The two boys joined Lasser on the pavement looking longingly at the ball.
'I can only apologise again, but...'
'Save your breath, mister, he won't listen.' The boy kitted out in blue said sadly.
The old man stomped across the front lawn and grabbed the ball from the remains of his flowers. Trapping it beneath his right arm, he headed back towards the front door.
'That's another one gone, Billy.'
His mate sighed heavily.
Lasser watched in amazement as the man entered the house and slammed the front door behind him.
'That's the fourth one this year.' The one in red said.
'Fifth if you count the tennis ball,' his friend replied.
'Right, you wait here I'll get your ball back.'
'Don't bother, mister, he never gives em back.'
Lasser ignored the advice and walked up the garden path, giving the front of Mary Sheldon's house a cursory glance as he headed towards the neighbours door. Rapping his knuckles on the woodwork, he waited in a patch of sunlight for the Grinch to put in an appearance.
Eventually the door clicked open and the old man glared out at him. 'What do you want?'
'Look, I apologised for the accident...'
'That weren't no accident you did it deliberate.'
'Oh come on you're having laugh, I was kicking the ball back to the boys and it went over your fence...'
'Aye and it landed on my property so I'm well within my rights to keep the bloody thing.'
Lasser smiled thinly. 'You think so do you?'
The man puffed out his chest. 'I know so.'
'Well it seems as if you don't know as much as you think you do. I made a legitimate request for that ball and you refused, which amounts to theft on your part.'
Becks eyes sprang wide in shock. 'Bollocks!'
'So unless you want the law involved I would advise that you hand the ball over and apologise to those two,' Lasser said as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
'I...'
'And while you're at it you can get the other balls you wrongly procured.'
'Right well, when the police get here we can see what they have to say on the matter.'
'The police?'
The old man jabbed out finger. 'Oh, don't you worry they're already on their way.'
Lasser shook his head. 'You are joking right?'
'You'll see if I'm joking or not when they get here.'
'You rang the police over a football landing in your flowerbed?'
'I rang them because of the racket coming from next door, but that's neither here nor there...'
'Next door?'
'But I'm sure they'll help clear all this up when they get here.'
'I thought next door was empty?'
Beck frowned. 'What's it to you?'
Lasser moved forward a step. 'Are you telling me that someone is inside the house?'
'Bugger off I'm not discussing my business with the likes of you.'
Lasser dragged out his warrant card and shoved it under the old man's blue veined nose. 'Choose your next words carefully, Mr Beck, or you might find yourself in the exercise yard and I can promise you, you won't be thinking of taking any balls while you're there.'
'I...'
'Is someone in that house?' he jabbed a finger over the fence.
'Well aye...'
'How can you be sure?'
'Because I saw him at the back window about an hour ago.'
'Him?'
'Yeah, some dodgy looking bugger with longish dark hair.'
'And did he see you?'
'Nah, I was in my shed at the bottom of the garden and he was standing at the back bedroom window. I mean, I know Mary's not been back to the place for a good few weeks...'
'Have you ever seen the man before?'
Beck sniffed. 'I might have.'
'At the house?'
'Look what's this all about?'
'Answer the question, Mr Beck.'
'A couple of times maybe.'
'He's a friend of Mary's?'
'How the hell should I know, he used to come late at night, stop for a bit and then bugger off.'
'Right, when did you ring the police?'
The man checked his battered Timex. 'About fifteen minutes ago, just before you demolished my plants.'
'What's the best way to get to the back of the house?'
'Well, you can come through here if you want?'
Suddenly the old man looked excited; he licked his lips in anticipation.
Lasser nodded. 'That's very neighbourly of you, Mr Beck, now if you'll show me the way.'
Lasser looked over his shoulder and gave the two boys standing near the fence the thumbs up, watching as their mouths hung open in surprise before following Beck into a hallway that smelled of cooking cabbage and pipe tobacco.
Sure enough a pan was bubbling away nicely on the ancient looking stove, steam billowing into the air.
'Are you going to kick the door in?' Beck asked with more than a hint of glee.
'Hopefully not.'
Beck frowned in disappointment. 'But...'
'Listen, Mr Beck, I want you to go back to the front of the house and if you see anyone leave I want you to shout out.'
'Shout out?'
'Yes, tell the lads at the front to bugger off, but really let rip.'
Beck smiled with malice. 'I can do that.'
'I don't doubt it,' Lasser said as he opened the back door, just in time to see the figure of Donny Elliot scrambling over the fence of the house next-door.
'Shit!' Lasser hissed as he shot out of the back door.
'That's the bugger!' Beck hollered.
Lasser ignored him as he rocketed down the narrow path that split the garden into two separate patches of close-cropped grass.
'Watch me rhubarb!' Beck shouted as Lasser ploughed through the veg patch, the rhubarb stems cracking beneath his thrashing feet. Hitting the fence hard, he vaulted over, landing on the scrub grass at the rear of the property.
Elliot was thirty yards away, dashing across the desolate field made up of weeds and thistles, his legs raised high as he tried to build momentum. Lasser set off in pursuit; he could feel the spiky vegetation pricking his legs as he ploughed forward.
Elliot threw a panicked look over his shoulders before turning away and heading full tilt for the trees that bordered the field.
When Donny fell headlong into a patch of nettles Lasser grinned in delight and increased his speed. He saw the dark haired man pop his head out of the foliage then he was back on his feet and scrabbling forward.
Lasser wasted no energy on calling after the fleeing man, concentrating instead on closing the gap. When Elliot reached the edge of the field, he hesitated as he came across the drainage ditch half-full of green stagnant water.
He snapped a look left and right looking for a narrow stretch to leap across, throwing a look over his shoulder he saw the man chasing him close the gap.
Left with no choice Donny tried to leap across and landed knee deep in the stinking gloop, filthy water spraying up into his face. He fell forward landing heavily on the opposite bank before dragging himself up the steep embankment.
Lasser didn't even break stride, as soon as he reached the edge, he took to the air, arms and legs wind milling as he sailed across. He landed on his feet, knees bent to absorb the impact. When he looked up Elliot was just disappearing over the rim of the ditch.
Dragging at the patches of weeds Lasser hauled himself to the top in time to see the fleeing man vanish into the trees.
'Bastard!' he snarled as he set off running.
As soon as he reached the trees, he stopped to listen, when he heard the heavy grunt to his left he turned and dodged around the boughs of the twisted trees, glimpsing Elliot as he raced between them.
Donny never saw the thick tree root hidden beneath a covering of last year's fallen leaves, his trainer became snagged beneath and then he was hurtling forward landing hard on the gnarly ground.
Lasser increased his speed, his breath laboured, sweat coated his forehead.
When Donny Elliot leapt to his feet and spun towards him with knife in hand, Lasser slid to a stop ten feet away.
'Fuck off or I'll stick you!' Elliot snarled.
Lasser looked at the man brandishing the knife, swiping it back and forth in the still air.
His hair hung down to his shoulders, black speckled with grey strands, his eyes manic like a cornered animal that suddenly realises it has nowhere left
to run.
'Throw the knife away, Donny, you're in enough shit as it is.'
Donny licked his lips, his chest rising and falling. 'How do you know my name?'
'Come on, sunshine, you know why.'
'I'm telling you to back off,' he thrust the knife forwards in a stabbing motion.
'You dumped three bodies in the lake at the top of Hall Lane and you're also wanted for the murder of Sarah Clark.'
'I didn't kill no fucker!'
Lasser tilted his head. 'What I want to know is who's been supplying you with the gear?'
'I've told you I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Then you might as well throw down the blade and come with me, if you're telling the gospel then you have sod all to worry about.'
As the sound of distant sirens whined, Lasser saw the look of panic in Elliot's eyes morph into hatred.
'Cunt!' he screamed and then he was dashing forward, the knife jacking back and forth.
Lasser waited until he was almost upon him and then he dropped onto his side and lashed out with his right foot. The boot slammed into Donny's right knee pitching him forward, the scream ripped from his open mouth bouncing off the boughs of the trees. Donny landed three feet away his face twisted in pain, his lips drawn back over crooked yellowing teeth. Then he lashed out and Lasser scrabbled backwards in the leaf litter, the knife plunged into the blackened earth and Donny yanked it free before lunging forward again, the knife raised.
Lasser could feel the damp from the ground as he planted his hands flat in the moist leaves, leaning back slightly he kicked his left leg forward. The boot hit Donny's wrist and the knife spun from his grasp, then the sole of his foot slammed into the centre of Donny Elliot's face. The sound of his nose cracking under the impact was reminiscent of a dry twig snapped underfoot. Donny's head lashed backwards and then he hit the ground and started to scream in earnest.
Lasser pushed himself backwards, his boots leaving black scars in the earth then he lunged upright, the blood surging through his system, the adrenalin roaring through his brain.
'Fucking teach you not to play with knives, you bastard!' he bellowed down as the figure writhed on the ground.
Donny Elliot continued to scream.
Vanished Beneath: DS Lasser six (The Lasser series Book 6) Page 11