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

by Robin Roughley

  'He says he has never taken a drug in his life let alone sold any. He says he has children in the house and that he's an honest man.'

  'Will you ask Mr Iknoff if he knows the Mellor brothers?' Lasser asked watching as Iknoff's eyes widened at the mention of the scrap dealers.

  Before she had even asked the question, Iknoff was shaking his head. 'Not know,' he said waving his hands in the air.

  'So, he's never worked for the Mellor’s?'

  Iknoff leapt to his feet. 'Not know, not know!'

  'Not know my arse!' Bannister stood up and leaned across the table. 'The Mellor’s gave you the gear didn't they?'

  'No, no!' Iknoff took a step back his eyes frantic.

  Anna reached out her hand and took hold of Iknoff's sleeve then she began to talk fast in a soothing voice. Whatever she was saying didn't seem to be working.

  Iknoff pushed her hand away. 'Not know!' he bellowed at the top of his voice.

  Bannister treated the man to a wolfish grin. 'Tell Mr Iknoff he'll be staying here with us until he decides to cooperate.'

  Anna frowned. 'But he's already told you he knows nothing.'

  Bannister shrugged. 'Oh OK, as long as you believe him then we'll just ignore the drugs we found at his house. I mean, obviously, he's telling the truth. The trouble is the last person to occupy that house was a Mrs Miller, she died four months ago at the age of ninety two. Perhaps she was the dealer, I can just see her on her Zimmer frame walking the streets and dishing out her ‘E's and coke!'

  Anna blushed before looking away.

  'PC Black?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Take Mr Iknoff back to the cells he obviously needs time to reconsider.'

  Black moved away from the door and took hold of Iknoff's arm before leading him from the room.

  Bannister sighed and ran a hand across his short hair. 'Thanks for your help,' he said as Anna pushed to her feet.

  The woman simply nodded, her face set in a thin frown as she left the room without uttering a word.

  'Waste of time,' Bannister grunted.

  'Well, he almost shit himself when we mentioned the Mellor’s.'

  'I'm not an idiot, Lasser, but can you honestly see the man telling tales about those two bastards?'

  'Right, so, what do you want to do?'

  Bannister thought for a moment. 'Did you take a look around Mary Sheldon's house?'

  'No, I...'

  'Right, get back there and have a nosey.'

  'What am I looking for?'

  'I haven't a clue but when you've finished there get over to Joseph Crank's flat and do the same, maybe you'll find something that links them both.'

  'But we already know Elliot was the link.'

  Bannister glowered. 'Just do it, Sergeant!'

  Lasser held up his hands. 'OK I'm going.'

  'And remember I want you fully focused, no messing about looking for this Emma Drake.'

  Lasser opened the door and looked over his shoulder Bannister was watching him closely.

  'Are we clear, Sergeant Lasser?'

  'Yep,' he said before walking from the room.

  Bannister sat back down in the plastic chair. 'Lying sod,' he mumbled before pulling out his phone.

  52

  Medea spent the morning wandering around the house like a lost soul, she lost count of the amount of times she tried Emma's mobile in the hope she would answer the call. Her mind was in turmoil, one minute she'd convince herself that Emma had, for whatever reason, decided to head back to London, and then she would dismiss the idea. There was no way she would simply leave without letting her know.

  That was the most worrying aspect to all of this there was no plan to her actions, no forethought that she could fathom. Emma had been standing at the kitchen sink preparing the salad - the lettuce on the cutting board - the fridge door still open. Even if someone had rung with some devastating news, Emma wouldn't have simply run from the house without taking a few seconds to call her on the mobile.

  Medea wandered back into the kitchen and looked around the room as if searching for clues. An image of James Drake reared in her mind. Now she knew of his illness, she could see the signs with startling clarity, the grey hue of his face, the skin stretched tight across his hollowed cheek, his eyes slightly sunken as if retreating from a world that had suddenly turned harsh.

  She could recall the fear in his eyes, fear for himself as well as Emma.

  Medea chewed her lip and winced at the sting.

  The mystery man must have come to the house - it was the only explanation that made any sense. He must have knocked on the door and Emma would have turned from the sink putting the knife down and heading down the hallway. Medea turned and looked at the front door, she would have seen the figure beyond the frosted glass, and then...Medea turned away as the fear lurched in her mind.

  It had been mid-afternoon; the cul-de-sac would have been quite, the neighbours on holiday, the others would still have been at work. The man could have bundled her into the back of his car and no one would have been there to stop him.

  The fear, rampant now, flooded her system with mind-numbing terror.

  Dragging out her phone, she swiped a finger down the screen until she came to Lasser's name and then she jabbed at the call button. When the engaged tone rang out she sighed heavily before slipping the phone back into her pocket.

  53

  'He's already been on the phone,' Susan Coyle said.

  Lasser fiddled a cigarette from the pack, keeping one eye on the road as he flicked the lighter, 'Bannister?'

  'About ten minutes ago.'

  'Look, I'm sorry if he gave you a blasting...'

  'A blasting?'

  'I should have checked with him before I asked you to look into this Emma Drake thing.'

  'Well, that's just it, he told me to carry on with the trace.'

  Lasser flicked the ash through the window and indicated before pulling past a disability scooter trundling along close to the curb. 'Hang on, he told you to carry on?'

  'He said Sally Wright could keep checking the missing persons...'

  'Bastard!'

  'Is everything alright, sir?'

  'Sometimes that man is the biggest twa...pain in the arse walking.'

  'Well, I've managed to get an address for Drake.'

  Lasser took a pull on the cigarette his eyes narrowing through a cloud of smoke. 'What about a boyfriend?'

  'That's more difficult, I mean, she isn't married but I've discovered she did have a joint bank account.'

  Lasser grunted in admiration. 'Good work, Susan, so, what can you tell me about the bloke?'

  'That's the problem, sir, the bank is reluctant to hand over any details. They're saying it's confidential information and should be treated as such.'

  'And you explained the situation?'

  'Yes but they're not budging.'

  'So we don't have a name?'

  'Not yet.'

  'Right, Susan, keep at it...'

  'Er, that's what DCI Bannister said, in fact he told me if I don't have any luck by this afternoon then I've to let him know and he'll deal with it.'

  Lasser's mouth fell open in shock and the cigarette dropped from his lips landing in his lap. 'Shit!'

  'Sir, are you OK?'

  The car swerved as Lasser flapped a hand between his spread legs a shower of sparks fell into the foot well.

  'Sir, are you still there?'

  Checking in the mirror, he bumped the car onto the kerb and yanked on the handbrake, when he looked down he could see the small hole burned into the fabric of the seat.

  'Sir?'

  'I just nearly set fire to my bollocks,' Lasser mumbled.

  The silence on the line stretched out. 'Right, she said in confusion.

  'Right, as soon as you get a name let me know.'

  'Will do.'

  'And thanks for this, I owe you one.'

  'No problem.'

  Ending the call, he rubbed a finger against the
cloth to make sure the seat wasn't going to go up in flames, before indicating and pulling back onto the road.

  Twenty minutes later, he was back at Mary Sheldon's house, there was no sign of the two boys who had been there the day before. Instead, a council van was parked in front of the property, climbing out Lasser headed up the path where a joiner was in the process of cutting a length of plywood for the front door.

  'Excuse me, mate, I need to take a look inside before you shut the place up.'

  The joiner looked up and smiled. 'Are you a copper then?'

  Lasser showed his warrant card before heading towards the door.

  'Do you have any idea how long you'll be in there?' The man asked.

  'Why, have you somewhere you need to be?'

  'Well, I get paid per job so I don't want to be hanging around for hours.'

  'This shouldn't take too long.'

  'Right then, I'll grab my butties from the van and have an early dinner.'

  'No problem,' Lasser replied as he walked into a hallway decorated with pale blue woodchip wallpaper, the carpet was worn and dirty and Lasser could see a muddy boot print mashed into the weave. The lounge was surprisingly neat apart from a crumpled up fish and chip paper and half a dozen empty cans of Carlsberg scattered on the floor, no doubt left by Elliot after he'd fed and watered himself. Moving into the room Lasser had a rummage through a small cupboard by the side of the electric fire. Lifting the box of scrabble from the shelf, he slid the lid free, the inside was littered with old bills, gas, lecky and water.

  Placing the box back on the shelf, he closed the door and had one last look around the room before heading into the kitchen. The room was small and stuffy with stale air, though once again the place was tidy; he opened a few cupboard doors containing the usual cups and plates. The bottom cupboards revealed an assortment of pots and pans and an opened box of Weetabix.

  When he looked through the window, he saw old man Becks trudging down his garden path watering can in hand, Lasser moved quickly away from the window and headed upstairs.

  The front bedroom contained a double bed covered with a floral patterned duvet, a single wardrobe stood against one wall, apart from that the room was empty. Crossing the space, he slid the wardrobe door open, a couple of summer dresses hung from red plastic coat hangers, a pile of jeans took up one narrow shelf the other was full of T-shirts, the bottom of the space was a jumble of trainers and high heels. Closing the door, he eased down to his knees and peered under the bed only to find a tumbleweed of dust balls stuck to the carpet.

  The bathroom was empty, no toothbrush and no smellies in the small cabinet screwed to the wall, the bath was lined with a fine layer of dust.

  Lasser turned and walked back along the narrow landing to the last door on the left, pushing it open he looked into a room devoid of any furniture, even the floor was bare, no carpet or rug.

  According to Elizabeth Rogers, Sheldon could spend weeks away from the house and it showed, the place felt unlived in, no knick-knacks, no pictures on the wall, it seemed obvious that Mary Sheldon had spent hardly any time in this house at all.

  Lasser ran a hand across his stubbly chin; the question was where had she been staying and why had no one come forward to report her missing in the first place?

  Pulling the car keys from his pocket, he left the room and headed for the stairs, he would go and look at Joseph Crank’s flat and then he would call on Tilly and get Elizabeth's address maybe she could point him toward an old boyfriend of Mary Sheldon's.

  As he walked through the front door, he spotted the joiner sitting on the garden wall munching on a cheese and tomato sandwich.

  'That was quick,' he said.

  'Yeah well, to be honest there's not much to see.'

  'Aye, I thought the place looked a bit deserted.'

  'Right, you can board it up I've finished here.'

  The man waved his sandwich as Lasser climbed into his car, as he drove away the joiner popped the last of his butty into his mouth before grabbing his hammer from the front lawn.

  54

  'Look, Norv, I can still do this,' Boris said as he wiped his oily hands on an even oilier rag.

  Norvil looked at his brother in disdain. 'I've already told you I've had a nod, the filth are watching us, waiting for us to do something stupid.'

  Boris looked around the scrap yard as if he expected to find a legion of officers hiding amongst the mountain of junk. 'But we can't just leave the shit at the lockup.'

  Norvil kicked a hubcap across the yard. 'So, what do you suggest? I mean, if we go anywhere near the place then they'll come down on us like a ton of shit.'

  'Look, even if they find Elliot...'

  'They've already found him, you dickhead!'

  Boris looked worried. 'When, I mean, how?'

  'Last night, they collared him in Leigh.'

  'Fuck!'

  Norvil looked at his brother and not for the first time he wished that he were an only child. 'My man told me Elliot resisted arrest and ended up in the ozzie for his troubles.'

  'Maybe I should go and see him and...'

  'Oh, that sounds like a plan, you turning up with a bunch of grapes in your rigger boots.'

  'But...'

  'Shut the fuck up, Boz, I need to think.'

  Boris frowned and picked up the monkey wrench. 'Whatever you say, Norvil,' he snarled.

  Norvil raised an eyebrow. 'Temper, temper, brother mine.'

  55

  As expected, Joseph Crank’s flat had turned out to be a shithole, the poky living space was littered with empty fast food trays and dozens of empty beer cans. Lasser had kicked his way through the rubbish to a bedroom that stank of desperation and sweaty feet.

  In the end, he had a cursory glance through the bedside cabinet containing a half-eaten meat pie with fur growing from it and a coke bottle full to the brim with yellow piss. There had been no wardrobe; Crank's meagre clothes lay scattered on the floor, the window covered with a dusty blind.

  Lasser had walked out onto the balcony and given Medea a quick call, she'd sounded tense with anxiety, once or twice he'd heard her sniff back the tears.

  'Listen, Med, you need to try and keep calm...'

  'How do you expect me to keep calm after what's happened?'

  'I know it's hard but we should have the name of her partner by this afternoon and then we can take it from there.'

  'But what if he's snatched her...'

  Lasser had looked over the balcony at a kid kicking a ball against a garage door. 'Med, you have to remember Emma's twenty-eight...'

  'What has her age got to do with anything?'

  For the first time he could hear an underlying thread of anger in her voice. 'She could still come walking through the door, or she could ring you to explain...'

  'I know her, Lasser, and you don't, there is no way Emma would just vanish without trace!'

  'OK, OK I'm just saying...'

  'Well don't. Just get out there and do something about it!'

  'Believe me, Med, we're doing all we can,' he lied.

  'Don't patronise me, Lasser,' the anger was now bubbling just beneath the surface, one more stupid comment from him and she would lose it big time.

  'As soon as I know anything I'll call you.'

  'So what do I do in the mean time?'

  'There's nothing you can do, I...'

  'Well, thank you for that vote of confidence.'

  Lasser sighed and fiddled with the cigarettes, resisting the urge to spark up. 'Come on, you know what I mean.'

  'Actually I don't.'

  'Now you're just being stubborn, I...'

  'Pig!'

  Lasser heard the click of the phone and looked at the screen in surprise; Medea had hung up on him. Pressing redial he waited for her to pick up, when the call went through to voicemail, he hesitated. 'Listen, Med, I realise this hard for you but you need to be patient. I'll call you later,' he said before ending the call.

  Ten minutes later, he
was sitting in Tilly Crank's tidy living room. The lady herself walked in from the kitchen with two cups in her hand and fluffy slippers on her feet.

  'You said one sugar didn't you?' she asked.

  'One's fine, Tilly.'

  'I've just spoken to our Elizabeth and she's on her way.'

  Lasser took the cup off her and smiled. 'Thanks.'

  'Is it to do with what happened to our Joseph?' she asked as she eased onto the sofa.

  'To be honest I'm not sure.'

  She shook her head sadly. 'I still can't believe it, I mean, the papers are saying there could be more bodies in the lake.'

  'I...'

  'And those poor girls it's terrible, just terrible.'

  Lasser took a sip from the cup and nodded. 'The last time I was here you said one of Joseph's first girlfriends was called Shelly?'

  'Yes, but I didn't know he had her name tattooed on his backside.'

  'You think he had it put there so that you wouldn't see it?'

  Tilly sighed and placed the cup on a small table by the side of the sofa. 'Joe was always trying to be a rebel, he thought it made him some kind of big man, truth was he was a fool.'

  'Everyone makes mistakes, Tilly.'

  She looked at Lasser with narrowed eyes. 'Mistakes I can live with but not stupidity. Joe was brought up in a good family, Sergeant, oh, his father was a waste, but he always had love from the rest of us.'

  'I don't doubt it.'

  'So why did he start taking drugs, why did he have to shove that stuff up his nose, you tell me that?'

  'I...'

  'He was in rehab four times, and every time he came out he would go straight back on the stuff. I mean, where's the sense in that?'

  'Some people just find it hard to cope.'

  She made a hissing sound like steam escaping from a pressure valve. 'But cope with what?'

  Lasser shrugged. 'Maybe he wanted to get clean but this isn't the best town to do it in.'

  Tilly shook her head. 'That's the problem; people always make excuses for these idiots. I loved Joe but he was weak-willed, no willpower, he was always whinging about something. Every time I saw him, he wanted money off me. If he owed cash, it was never his fault; he always had a pathetic excuse, always ready to blame others.'