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

by Robin Roughley

  44

  Bannister sighed heavily. 'Did you have to make such a mess, Sergeant?'

  Lasser looked down at the drying mud on the knees of his trousers; they were walking back across the field. Donny Elliot was strapped to a stretcher, the two paramedics hurrying over the rutted field in an effort to get the injured man to the ambulance.

  'He came at me with a knife,' Lasser explained.

  'I'm well aware of that but did you see the state of his face?'

  Lasser looked at his boss in disbelief. 'Yeah well, I was more concerned with staying alive.'

  'Don't exaggerate, you should have been able to persuade him to come quietly.'

  'Is that a joke, because...'

  Bannister slapped him on the shoulder. 'All I'm saying is that violence should be the last resort not the first one that springs to mind.'

  'Try telling that to the nutter with the blade,' Lasser spat in response.

  Bannister carried on as if he hadn't even heard Lasser open his mouth. 'I mean, it could be days or weeks even before he's able to talk.'

  'To be honest I don't give a toss.'

  Bannister frowned. 'Well, you bloody well should, I mean, what good is Elliot to us if his jaws wired up?'

  'That man has killed four people that we know of; I thought you'd have been pleased that he's off the streets?'

  Bannister snorted and shook his head. 'Yes but we already know he's just a Muppet...'

  'Tell that to Tilly Crank,' Lasser snarled.

  Bannister glanced at him from the corner of his eye. 'OK, Sergeant no need to throw a wobbly.'

  As they walked across the fields, Lasser yanked out his cigarettes and lit one.

  'Come on, tight arse, hand them over.'

  He tossed the pack to Bannister.

  'Just out of curiosity what made you think of this place?'

  Lasser shrugged. 'Unfinished business that's all.'

  'So you came to find out about Mary Sheldon?'

  'That's about the size of it.'

  'I didn’t think it would be down to your detective skills?'

  A wasp buzzed by and Lasser flapped a hand at it. 'You know sometimes you can be a sarcastic sod.'

  'You think I'm being sarcastic?' Bannister said and then grinned as Lasser spun towards him his face locked in anger. 'OK calm down, Lasser, I'm taking the piss.'

  'Yeah well, thanks for that.'

  'You did a good job, a little unorthodox but like you said we have a killer behind bars with the minimum of fuss.'

  Lasser grunted and thrust his hands into his pockets the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

  'Now all we need is for Elliot to tell us who was supplying him with the drugs and everything will be hunky dory.'

  'Perhaps there is no supplier, maybe Elliot was making the stuff himself.'

  'Come off it, he lived in a shit hole and drove around in a knackered old van.'

  'Yeah, but this whole thing reeks of someone messing around on a shoestring and let's face it Elliot's thick enough to have a go.'

  Bannister thought for a moment before shaking his head. 'I still don't buy it, besides even if that were the case he'd still have to get the raw materials from someplace and we found none at the flat.'

  'The Mellor’s?'

  Bannister flicked the cigarette into the tall grass. 'The lab managed to separate at least three barbiturates and they said there are at least two others present in the samples that they can't as yet identify, now can you really see Elliot going to the Mellor’s and trying his luck?'

  'I...'

  'They'd want to know what he wanted the drugs for - that's assuming they could get their oily coated hands on the stuff.'

  Lasser sighed and sent the stump of the cigarette spiralling into the weeds. 'I suppose so.'

  'No, there's someone else behind all this, some slimy bastard who used Elliot to set up the victims.'

  The houses drew ever nearer; Lasser could see old man Beck leaning over the garden fence.

  'So, it's someone who has the knowhow but doesn't have the contacts,' Lasser said.

  'That sounds more plausible, Sergeant.'

  'Well, let's keep our fingers crossed that Elliot can give us a name.'

  'Hey you, what are you going to do about my rhubarb?' Beck shouted as they approached.

  'Who the hell is that?' Bannister snapped.

  'Meet Mr Beck the local scrooge, stealer of balls from little kids and genuine miser.' Lasser whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  'And who's going to pay for the damage to my fence?' The old man snapped.

  'I can't be doing with this,' Bannister said as he veered off to the left, heading for a narrow path that ran down the side of Mary Sheldon's house.

  'Are you listening to me? Hey, you two come back here!'

  Bannister cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. 'Get back to your bunker Himmler!'

  Lasser looked baffled. 'Get back to your bloody bunker?'

  Bannister shrugged. 'It's getting late and I'm tired, it's the best I can do.'

  'Here, I want a word with you lot!'

  Both men ignored him as they trudged their way across the wasteland.

  45

  Medea looked around the empty kitchen and frowned. Moving to the bottom of the stairs, she slipped off her jacket before hanging it over the banister rail.

  'Emma, are you upstairs?'

  When no reply was forth coming, Medea skipped up to the landing, the bathroom door stood open along with the door to the second bedroom. Poking her head into the room Medea had a quick look before moving back onto the landing, her face creased in concern. Then she smiled as she realised that Emma must have gone out into the back garden. Hurrying down the stairs she made her way into the kitchen, the frown on her face reappeared as she tried the handle only to find the door locked.

  'Emma!'

  Medea looked through the kitchen window peering through the glass into a garden, high with grass and weeds.

  Turning away, she flicked the kettle on and waited for it to boil while she tried to figure out where her friend could have vanished too. She thought of the neighbours and shook her head; the couple next door had gone away to Wales for the week, in fact they'd asked Medea if she would nip in every couple of days to feed the fish.

  Picking up the lettuce from the chopping board, she felt the first fluttering of unease. Fumbling in the pocket of her jeans Medea pulled out her mobile and pressed the call button before sliding the phone under her mane of dark hair.

  'It has not been possible to connect your call.' She looked down at the phone in confusion.

  Perhaps she'd nipped around the corner to the local Co-op.

  When the kettle clicked off, she grabbed a cup from the drainer before dropping a teabag in and adding the hot water. The house felt too quiet, too empty, with a shake of the head Medea headed into the lounge to wait for her friend to return.

  46

  By the time they made it back to the cars the ambulance had vanished.

  'Right, Lasser, I'm going to head over to the hospital, see what the lowdown is on Elliot.'

  'What do you want me to do?'

  Bannister looked at the sergeant in surprise. 'Get yourself off home,' he replied as he opened the car door.

  'But don't you want me to come with you?'

  Bannister slid behind the wheel and popped the key in the ignition. 'We're not joined at the sodding hip, Sergeant, besides it'll only be a flying visit and then I'm off home.'

  'No problem.'

  'And don't forget the debrief, eight in the morning and don’t be late.'

  Lasser nodded and then Bannister was hurtling off down the street.

  When Lasser turned back towards his car, he spotted the two kids sitting on the pavement in their football kits.

  'I see you didn't get our ball back, mister?'

  Lasser sighed. 'Sorry, lads, things got kind of hectic, and...'

  'That's alright we know what he'
s like, my dad says he's a miserable old bastard.' The one in red said.

  His friend nodded as if he agreed wholeheartedly with the character analysis.

  Lasser dragged his wallet free and pulled out a tenner. 'Here, take that and get yourselves a new one.'

  Both boys looked at him wide eyed. 'Are you sure, mister?'

  'Positive,' Lasser said as he handed the money over.

  'Wow, thanks!'

  'Don't mention it,' he said as he climbed into the car. 'Oh and by the way, old man Becks is wrong he has no right to keep your ball.'

  'But he said he'd get the police and then we'd be in even more trouble.'

  'Take it from me he's the one breaking the law, not you,' he said as he drove away.

  He'd reached the main road when his phone began to ring, pulling over to the curb he checked the mobile, smiling when he saw Medea's face flashing up at him.

  The smile lasted all of ten seconds before it slid from his face.

  47

  The cabin was a mass of swirling smoke. Boris Mellor opened the window and flicked the stump through the gap before lighting another, his brother sat in the mustard-coloured swivel chair looking agitated.

  'I fucking told you not to give that Pole any gear,' Norvil snapped.

  Boris rubbed at his eyes. 'Alright there's no need to go off on one.'

  Norvil tried to swallow down the building fury. 'You don't get it do you, Boz, the police are bringing in a translator...'

  'Iknoff will keep his mouth closed,' Boris said with confidence.

  'You think so, do you?'

  Boris pulled hard on the cigarette his cheeks hollowed. 'He knows what'll happen if he doesn't.'

  'I fucking hope so for your sake; coz if they can pin anything on you then you'll be going down for at least ten this time.'

  Boris sighed and flicked his ash onto the floor. 'What about the gear do you think we should move it?'

  'Move it where?'

  'I don't know, Norv, but...'

  'We leave it where it is, besides the lock up can't be traced back to us and for all we know the filth could be watching, waiting for us to panic.'

  Boris nodded slowly. 'What do you think they wanted with Elliot?'

  Norvil slammed his feet up on the desk. 'You tell me?'

  'Hang on I've not seen the prick in weeks.'

  'So, he isn't dealing for us anymore?'

  Boris sniffed. 'I did what you asked, you said he was a risk and I cut off the supply.'

  'So, he must have been getting his shit from someone else.' Norvil pondered.

  'What makes you think that?'

  Norvil sighed and looked at his brother, there was only two year’s between them but sometimes Norvil felt like a father looking after an idiot son. 'The coppers came here for a reason, Boz, they asked specifically about Elliot. Come on man they're not idiots...'

  'Yeah well, like I said I've cut Elliot from the loop.'

  'Does he have any idea where we keep the goods?'

  When Norvil saw the colour flush into Boris's face, he stood up. 'For fucks sake tell me he doesn't?'

  Boris suddenly found the tips of his rigger boots interesting.

  'You took him to the lockup didn't you?' Norvil stood rigid his hands making fists.

  Boris flicked a nervous glance towards his brother. 'Look, Norv, it was dark...'

  Norvil lashed out and slapped his hand hard across the top of his Boris's head.

  'What the fuck do you mean it was dark; I've told you dozens of times you take no fucker near that place!'

  Boris rubbed at his forehead. 'I...'

  'So, Elliot knows where we keep the stuff?'

  'Perhaps,' Boris mumbled.

  'You cretin, I...'

  'Elliot won't...'

  Norvil snapped up a hand and Boris clamped his mouth closed.

  'Don't you dare say he'll keep his mouth closed, because we both know that's shite. That's why we kicked the little bastard into touch in the first place because he had a loose tongue and couldn't be trusted!'

  Boris looked crestfallen. 'I'm sorry, Norv, I didn't think,' he winced as his brother loomed towards him.

  Norvil rapped his knuckles on Boris's skull. 'That's always been your bloody problem, you never see past the end of your sodding nose!'

  The cabin shook as the bulldozer rumbled across the yard.

  'Tell me what to do and I'll sort it,' Boris said as he wiped a hand under his nose.

  'You don't get it do you, Boz. The gear in the lockup doesn't belong to us.'

  'What do you mean?' Boris asked in confusion.

  'We sell it on, you daft prick, we're just a link in a chain and if the filth catch up with Elliot and he grasses us up then the owners of the gear will still want their money.'

  'But I thought it was ours, I thought we paid up front?'

  'Are you having a laugh there's half a million quid's worth of shit in that lockup and if the police get their mitts on it then we are fucked because I know I don't have that kind of money in the bank and I'm damn sure you don't!'

  'I'll move it, Norv, take a van and clear the place out.'

  'And put it where?'

  Boris blinked and lowered his head as his brain seized solid like one of the rusting engines in the yard.

  Norvil felt like slamming his boot between his brother’s legs, instead he dragged a cigarette from his pocket and sparked an old Zippo. 'Go tonight and load the van.'

  Boris snapped his head up and nodded. 'No problem, Norv.'

  'I'll try and sort somewhere to keep it.'

  'Right.'

  'And for fucks sake make sure your mobiles fully charged and as soon as you're loaded you ring me is that clear enough for you?'

  'Yeah, yeah, you can rely on me, Norv.'

  Norvil flicked the lit cigarette towards his brothers face, Boris ducked as the tab flew over his shoulder.

  'But that's just it, I can't trust you can I, Boris?'

  'I...'

  'Save your fucking breath you waste of space.'

  Boris nodded.

  48

  'OK, Med, calm down.'

  Lasser could feel the waves of anxiety coming from her as she looked around the room, her eyes wide and fraught with panic.

  'Have you tried her phone?'

  'Three or four times and it keeps putting me through to her voicemail.'

  'Have you checked the wardrobe?'

  Medea looked at him in confusion, 'The wardrobe?'

  'Come on,' he said. 'Let's take a look.'

  Medea followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Once in the spare bedroom he pulled open the door and flicked his way through the few clothes hanging from the rail before lifting out the suitcase.

  'What are you doing?' Medea asked, her hands clasped beneath her chin.

  Lasser glanced up at her. 'We need to know if she's taken anything with her.'

  'But why would she just disappear without saying anything?'

  Lifting the case onto the bed, he slid the zip open. Medea stood back chewing on a fingernail, when Lasser tossed the boxed rabbit vibrator onto the bed she felt the colour flush her cheeks.

  Rummaging in the side pocket, he pulled out a leather purse and handed it to Medea.

  'Take a look, Med.'

  'Should we really be doing this, Lasser?'

  'Look you went to the shops and when you came back Emma had gone?'

  'Well yeah, but...'

  'You've tried her phone?'

  'I've already told you that.'

  Lasser flipped the lid of the suitcase closed. 'Listen, we don't really know why Emma came back here.'

  'You know why, she said she wants to move back to the area and she had a couple of job interviews lined up.'

  Lasser sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. 'Tell me, has she said anything to you about her life in London?'

  Medea held the purse in her right hand, her face burning with apprehension. 'Well yeah, we've talked.'


  'Was she seeing anyone?'

  'She never said.'

  'So, we don't know if she has a boyfriend or partner?'

  'Well no, but what's that got to do with anything?'

  Lasser frowned. 'Do you think she could have gone to see her father?'

  Medea chewed at her bottom lip as the failing sun flashed at the bedroom window. 'She would have told me, she wouldn't have just run from the house without saying anything.'

  Slapping his hands on his knees Lasser stood up. 'Check the purse, Med.'

  Medea clicked it open and slid out two credit cards and a driving licence.

  'Any cash?'

  'No.'

  'But her credit cards are there?'

  'Mm.'

  'Right do you know where her father lives?'

  'Well yeah, but do you think it’s wise just knocking on his door.'

  'If she's there then we solve the puzzle.'

  'And if she isn't?' Medea asked the panic rising again.

  'One thing at a time, Med, now grab your coat and let's go.'

  Five minutes later, they were in the car.

  49

  Albie Ross frowned as he listened to the voice on the phone. 'Look, where did you get my number?'

  'Donny Elliot.'

  Slumping back onto the sofa, he kicked off his trainers, his big toe poked through a hole in his sock. 'How is he?'

  'I said he'd given me your number, I didn't say we were friends.'

  Albie sniffed. 'Yeah well, Donny doesn't have many mates.'

  'So, can we do business?'

  'Listen, I don't know you from Adam, I mean, for all I know you could be the filth.'

  'You're a cautious man, I like that.'

  'I don't really care what you like.'

  'You have a brown wheelie bin standing by your front door.'

  Albie shot up from his seat and crossed the room in three long strides. 'Are you watching me because if you are...?'

  'Lift the lid I've left you a little something.'

  'You what?'

  'I'll ring back in five.'

  'Hang on,' the phone bleeped and died.

  Albie snatched back the curtains and peered out into the gloom, the street was empty apart from half a dozen parked cars and a black dog that trotted past the end of the drive.

  Swishing them closed he headed down the hallway and opened the front door. Albie stood on the step and sniffed the air like some wary animal checking for the scent of danger. Then he moved outside and lifted the plastic bin lid. The ASDA carrier bag lay on top of a mound of empty cans and bottles.