Tethered to the Dead: DS Lasser series volume three (The DS Lasser series. Book 3)

by Rob Roughley

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Think about your poor wife, how will she react when she realises that she’s been married to a rapist, a pervert?’

  Jansen felt a bubble of panic swell in his head. ‘But you wanted it; I mean, you were all over me.’ Fumbling around on the desk he found his glasses and thrust them on, his hair dishevelled, his face coated with sweat.

  Jodie ignored him and carried on. ‘I’ll say you asked me to stay behind to help you with the stocktaking and I agreed because I needed the money and thought you were being kind to me,’ she flashed him a smile. ‘Then as soon as you got me alone you attacked me...’

  ‘But that’s a lie; you came in here with no sodding underwear on, you...’

  ‘Who do you think they’ll believe you or me?’ Jodie twisted the silver chain around her neck. ‘If you want to take that risk then go ahead ring the police.’

  ‘I will!’ Jansen blustered, snatching the phone from his pocket, his face set with determination. Jodie watched him with a smile and then suddenly she began to pull at her hair, yanking out the long extensions and scattering them around the room, smearing her mascara until it was a dark smudge beneath her eyes.

  Jansen leapt to his feet; the swivel chair careered backwards colliding with the water cooler. ‘What are you doing?’ he screeched.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, you just carry on,’ grabbing her shirt, she yanked it open; half a dozen buttons pinged across the room.

  ‘Stop it!’ he was backing up, shaking his head rapidly his shocked eyes huge behind the designer glasses.

  Grabbing her lacy bra Jodie attacked it with a snarl. Within seconds it was in shreds, her glorious breasts swinging free, for a brief moment he caught sight of the bite marks and groaned in anguish.

  ‘Go on, ring them, and see what happens when they’re dragging you away in handcuffs. You never know, I might even get pregnant, after all, you didn’t think to use any protection did you?’

  Jansen’s mouth opened and closed like a fish floundering in the desert heat. ‘But I thought...’

  ‘People like you never think, all you see is a girl just out of school and all you want to do is fuck. You were the one who approached me, all this rubbish about overtime...’

  Jansen’s hands reared in the air. ‘As your employer I made a legitimate enquiry about overtime and five minutes after you came through that door, you had my cock in your mouth!’

  Jodie smiled sweetly. ‘Well, you have your tale to tell and I have mine.’

  Jansen grimaced, she sounded just like that bastard, Beddows. ‘But...’

  ‘And don’t forget, I speak to the other girls who work here. Oh, we all know about you and your wandering hands. Eva from the cafe says you’re always brushing up against her, she says you make her skin crawl and Carly swears you touched her ...’

  ‘Lies all bloody lies!’ Jansen staggered back until he slammed into the bookcase.

  ‘What do you think they’ll say when the police question them, when it all comes out, what will the papers make of it all?’

  ‘You little bitch; I’ll make sure you suffer for this.’ Jansen jabbed out a finger, he could feel the rage building, she was right he was relaxed with his hands. In fact, that was the reason he had left his last job, resigning quietly because some slut had accused him of grabbing her arse. He could see his life unravelling; his picture on the front of the local rag or maybe even the nationals. Reporters camped outside his house demanding to know what had happened. His wife would leave him, but ultimately that was of little concern, as far as he was concerned it was a loveless marriage anyway, a waste of space. The bitch he could live without, but a ruined reputation could never be rebuilt, a stain like this would follow him around for the rest of his life.

  Taking a deep breath he tried to take control of the situation, he was the boss; he was the one in charge. ‘Look Jodie, this has all been a stupid misunderstanding...’

  ‘So you’ll pay up?’

  He tried to smile, tried to inject some authority into his voice. ‘I’m sorry but you won’t be getting any money out of me. Now I am prepared to forget this ever happened, maybe we can even talk about promotion, after all, your work has been satisfactory...’

  Jodie burst out laughing and clasped her hands under her chin as if suddenly excited at the prospect, ‘Promotion?’

  Jansen ploughed on regardless. ‘Now I’m not saying there’ll be any more money, times are hard but think of the experience...’

  ‘Working alongside you is that what you’re offering me?’

  Jansen squared his shoulders, trying to ignore the contemptuous look in her eyes, his natural arrogance taking over. ‘I can put you on the right track; give you the chance to really make something of your life.’

  ‘Oh believe me, Mr Jansen I’m already making something of my life and you’re right, you are going to help me.’

  He suddenly felt a flicker of light at the end of a very dark tunnel; he was winning her around by showing her the benefits of having the switched on Rod Jansen as her mentor. Who knows, maybe they could still have the occasional roll in the hay, after all, she had an amazing body and the way she...

  ‘If you don’t have the money by ten, I’ll be going to the police, and then it’ll be out of my hands, so I’d think very carefully if I were you.’

  All the panic, all the blind terror was suddenly back, slamming into him like a wrecking ball. ‘But I thought you agreed, this can be a great opportunity. I mean, I can appreciate how hard it is to get a career started and I can even applaud you for making use of your talents, but...’

  ‘Save your breath and pay up, you know it makes sense.’

  Jansen licked his lips and contemplated running from the room. ‘But I don’t have that sort of cash. I mean, have you seen what these people pay me?’ His voice went up an octave, the sweat stains beneath his arms spread like ink on blotting paper.

  ‘Not interested,’ Jodie said. ‘Sell the car, the house, sell a kidney, I don’t fucking care but if you fail to find the cash, I can promise you more than a ruined career.’ She stood up and Jansen flattened himself against the bookcase, the feelings of panic suddenly morphed into something else.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he whispered.

  ‘Believe me; there are worse things in life than being labelled a paedophile. I know you might not think it, but there are.’

  ‘But you’re not underage,’ he spluttered.

  Jodie shrugged. ‘People won’t see it that way and believe me I can look a lot younger when I put my mind to it.’

  ‘You...’

  ‘Ten o’clock or you’ll find yourself fucked in more ways than one,’ dragging a denim jacket from her bag, she slipped it on over her tattered shirt. ‘Oh, and one more thing,’ she paused, ‘Bobby Finch.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He need’s his driving licence.’

  ‘What!’ Jansen tried to get his head around this sudden change of direction but all he could think about was the police turning up to drag him away.

  ‘Put him through his test and then give him Stan’s old job,’ she smiled and then blew him a kiss. ‘I’ll be ever so grateful, Mr Jansen.’

  Jansen watched her sashay across the room, he’d spent three years at college and four at university to get a business degree, he thought when it came to doing deals he was on the ball, someone to be reckoned with. As she closed the door quietly he suddenly realised it was all bollocks, when it came to real life he knew bugger all.

  84

  Lasser trudged up the drive and slid the key into the front door. Too tight to call a taxi he’d jumped on a bus and almost passed out when the driver told him it would cost a fiver just to get back into town. In the end, he’d turned and stepped back onto the pavement in disgust. All that had been two hours ago and now his feet were throbbing and his calves ached from the long walk home, all he wanted to do was get into the house and sink a few beers. Twisting the key, he opened t
he door as a blast of stifling heat swept out to meet him.

  ‘I was hoping to find you in.’

  He turned; Medea Sullivan was standing behind him, wearing light blue jeans and the familiar Pink Floyd T-shirt underneath a black bubble coat, her hair a dark halo around her head.

  ‘Medea, what are you doing here?’

  She shrugged slightly, looking embarrassed. ‘I came to apologise.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘What I said about you last night, I was upset and angry but I shouldn’t have had a go.’

  Lasser slid the keys into his pocket. ‘Would you like to come in for a drink?’

  She smiled hesitantly. ‘I thought you’d be working?’

  ‘It’s debatable if I’ll ever work again,’ he replied before moving through the door.

  She followed him inside, Lasser headed straight down the hall and into the kitchen opening the back door to let out some of the stale heat. ‘How did you find out where I live?’ he asked.

  ‘Well the internet really, but I had to ask a neighbour to be sure.’

  Pulling open the fridge door he rummaged inside, ignoring the cans of lager he slid out a couple of bottles of coke.

  ‘Come on, we might as well sit in the garden.’

  She followed him outside, raising an eyebrow at the overgrown lawn and barren flowerbeds, the ramshackle shed in the corner in desperate need of a coat of paint.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything,’ Lasser sighed. ‘I keep meaning to sort it out, but in this job you never seem to get the time.’

  ‘I live in an apartment, so thank God I don’t have to worry about a garden.’

  Lasser eased himself into one of the rickety garden chairs and looked up at the darkening sky, his eyes felt itchy with fatigue, his brain clogged with vagueness.

  ‘So, did you manage to identify the body?’ she asked.

  He squinted at her across the table, before handing over the bottle. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no problem but until we get a relative to say for sure...’

  ‘I understand,’ she replied before unscrewing the lid.

  Next doors cat suddenly appeared on top of the fence, took one look at Lasser, hissed, and then vanished.

  ‘It’s just that when I got home last night, I started to think about the way I behaved and it bothered me.’

  Lasser shrugged. ‘Like I said, it’s no big deal.’

  ‘It is to me.’

  He raised the bottle in salute. ‘Well, I appreciate the effort.’

  ‘I thought about what Rachael Sinclair said and I still don’t know if it’s the truth or not, but I started to wonder why she’d make something like that up?’

  Lasser stretched out his legs. ‘Like I said before, I don’t think she was making it up.’

  ‘Say you’re right, then how did he manage to get the job in the first place. I mean, why would the board of governors employ a man with a dubious past?’

  This was all part of the problem, the reason they were getting nowhere. Things had happened so fast that they hadn’t had time to sit down and simply look at the facts. Bannister was trying to piece things together in a way that made sense, without causing more distress to Suzanne Ramsey, without digging up the dirt. Lasser placed the bottle at the side of his chair and pulled out his cigarettes.

  ‘Have you ever tried giving those up?’ she asked.

  Dragging up the sleeve of his shirt, he ripped off the nicotine patch and tossed it into a sea of weeds. ‘Plenty of times, but...’

  ‘The job makes it hard?’

  He threw her a smile, ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘So why do you do it?’

  ‘Believe me, Medea, I ask myself that question on a daily basis,’ he shook himself and sat up straight. ‘Anyway, this board of governors, how do I find out about them?’

  ‘Well, I know one or two and the others are on the school website. I mean, Christopher was keen on technology, always trying to push the place forward, dragging it out of the dark ages, he called it.’

  ‘So come on, spill the beans.’

  ‘Well,’ she paused, ‘there’s Noel Spalding, he’s about seventy now and I think he used to be a barrister.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  Medea paused for a moment. ‘Tall distinguished looking, carries a walking stick, very old fashioned and he always calls me ‘dear’ when he sees me.’

  Lasser grunted, he hardly sounded like vicious killer material. ‘You said you knew two of them?’

  Medea took another sip from the bottle. ‘Mm, a woman called Phillips; she has a company that makes bespoke jewellery.’

  ‘Expensive stuff?’

  She crossed her legs and slid a hand through her hair. ‘Let’s just say it’s way out of my spending bracket.’

  ‘What about the others?’

  She pulled out an iPhone and tapped at the keys, overhead Lasser could see a couple of jet trails crossing the sky. ‘Ah, here we are. Thomas Barry, he owns a car showroom, mainly Jaguars and Mercedes, very upmarket, and then there’s Paul Simmion, I don’t know much about him, but I think he has an IT company.’

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘Afraid so, oh, and of course there was poor Mr Ramsey.’

  ‘Jonathan Ramsey?’ Lasser sat up and the chair groaned alarmingly.

  Medea nodded. ‘Although to be honest, we never really saw him. I mean, most of the others are nearing retirement age so they had more time but Mr Ramsey always seemed to be too busy to attend the regular meetings.’

  ‘Does Bannister know about this?’

  ‘I have no idea, why, is it important?’

  Truth was, he didn’t have a clue, though it was strange that Suzanne had never mentioned it. ‘So these people would have been responsible for employing Fulcom?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Any idea how the vacancy was advertised?’

  Medea took a sip from the bottle. ‘That’s the thing you see – it wasn’t advertised.’

  Lasser flicked the cigarette into the grass and scrubbed at his chin. ‘A prestigious school like Claremont’s and they didn’t advertise, is that normal?’

  ‘Well, at the time, everyone thought it was unusual. I mean, the old deputy head, a Mr Watson, had been there for almost forty years and when he announced his retirement we all presumed there’d be a raft of candidates coming forward for the job.’

  ‘Including other members of staff?’

  ‘Yeah, but it didn’t happen. One day in assembly the head simply introduced Christopher to the school and that was it.’

  ‘This head teacher, what’s his name.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a she, not a he.’

  Lasser winced. ‘Do I sound like a dinosaur?’

  ‘You are a dinosaur, her name’s Katherine Croft, she’s been there almost as long as Watson, in fact, she’s due to retire at the end of next term.’

  ‘So, when people come to work at Claremont’s they tend to stay?’

  ‘God yes,’ she took another drink then licked her lips. ‘The school has a policy of bringing the best people in and moving them slowly through the system. I mean, Croft and Watson started out on the teaching staff and gradually worked their way up the ladder, but it took them the best part of thirty years to do it.’

  ‘So Fulcom coming in from nowhere and getting the deputies job was unusual?’

  ‘More like unheard of. I’ve been there four years and to be honest, you have a lot of spare time on your hands. So, I started to look into the history of the place and apart from Christopher, every head or deputy has worked there for at least fifteen years before they were even considered for a job like that.’

  Lasser could feel his interest grow. ‘Didn’t it cause a stink when he got the job?’

  ‘Oh, feathers were ruffled; one or two members of staff were really pissed off about it.’

  ‘But no one actually con
fronted the board?’

  ‘You would have thought so, but Claremont’s is a great place to work, the teachers know they’re onto a good thing so no one was prepared to rock the boat too much.’

  Lasser could feel his brain begin to wake up, yawning and stretching, kicking off the duvet and swinging its legs out of bed.

  ‘What were relationships like between Fulcom and the other members of staff, any resentment?’

  She thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘Not that you’d notice. In fact, I think some of the staff were quite nervous.’

  ‘And why’s that?’

  Medea leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her hair swung forward like a black curtain. ‘Well, I’m only guessing, but I think they saw Christopher and expected sweeping changes.’

  Lasser was beginning to get the picture. ‘They thought he’d been brought in as a hatchet man?’

  ‘That’s a bit drastic but some of them were definitely anxious about the situation.’

  ‘And that stopped them from questioning why Fulcom had been employed in the first place?’

  ‘Like I said, a lot of the staff had been working there for twenty, thirty odd years and the thought of having to go back to working in the real world must have been terrifying for them.’

  So that explained why no one had kicked up a stink, as Medea said, these people would be set in their ways, onto a good thing. Fulcom must have seemed like the grim reaper with his combat pants and expensive haircut. Striding around the corridors, confident in the knowledge that no one would question how he had come to be there. He thought of Hindley High with its grimy windows and prefabricated buildings, run on a shoestring with an endless supply of inadequate students and demoralised teachers trying their best to give the kids a decent start in life. The more he turned things over, the more he came to realise that in order to get the job at Claremont’s, Fulcom must have had some shit on one of board members. It was the only way he would have been able to swing a job like that.

  Lasser slid out his phone and scrolled through the numbers, pressing the call button he slapped it to his ear and waited. After six rings, it went through to Bannister’s voicemail.