More Equal Than Others. The DS Lasser series. Volume five: Robin Roughley

by Robin Roughley

  'I don't think he was in the habit of using Head and Shoulders, sergeant.'

  Lasser shook his head at the quip. 'So what's the story?'

  Shannon see-sawed a hand. 'The head was removed by a heavy blade, possibly an axe, one blow, no hacking; whoever did it must have had very steady hands.'

  Lasser peered at the top of the severed head. 'No trauma to the skull?'

  'None.'

  'So you can't actually tell how he died?'

  'Not until the rest of the body turns up.'

  Lasser flicked the sheet back over the severed head. 'So it's a waiting game.'

  'What about the flat, no clues?' Shannon asked.

  'I'm on my way over there now, but according to Bannister forensics are struggling.'

  Shannon sighed and dragged his pants back up. 'Well what about enemies, I mean Philips must have made a few?'

  'I don't doubt it, though it wouldn't have been easy tracking him down.'

  'But not impossible?'

  Lasser slid the gurney back into the cupboard. 'Nothing’s impossible, doc, you know that.'

  Shannon snapped off the latex gloves before dropping them into a flip top bin. 'Well I don't envy you; I mean a lot of people will think the person responsible for this deserves a medal.'

  'Are you offering to pin one on his chest when we find him?'

  Behind the wild looking beard, Shannon blushed. 'Let's just say I won't be shedding any tears for what remains of Colin Philips.'

  'Fair enough,' Lasser slapped at his pockets before pulling out his car keys. 'Right, I'll catch you later and good luck with the diet.'

  'Bloody waste of time,' Shannon mumbled as Lasser pushed through the double doors.

  CHAPTER 4

  Lucy Croft was late. She hurried along the pavement, her panic flaring as the street lights flickered to life. Her mum would go mad, she should have been home an hour ago, and it wasn't as if she could ring her since the battery in her mobile had died.

  Lucy had spent the afternoon hanging out in the town centre with two of her closest friends and after mooching around the shops, they'd gone to McDonalds for a happy meal before heading to the park.

  When Sam had spotted a boy she had a crush on she'd insisted on staying close. Watching with adoring eyes as the boy kicked a ball around with a group of friends. Lucy had kept a careful eye on the time, watching nervously as the sun began to slip behind the college, bright light flared off the glass fronted building before continuing its inevitable decent.

  When she'd mentioned that it was getting late, Sam and Paula had thrown her twin grimaces of disgust.

  'God, Luce, it's only half six!'

  Lucy had looked at Sam and felt a blush of shame. She was right it was ridiculous; she was thirteen not three, despite this, Lucy couldn't shake the fluttering sense of unease.

  Ever since dad had left, her mum had become a nightmare, constantly wanting to know where she was and what she was doing. Earlier in the day, Lucy had slipped her mobile onto silent so she wouldn't have to listen to her mother reminding her to be home by half five, six at the latest. It was bad enough having these awful braces on her teeth without giving Sam and Paula further reason to make fun of her.

  The truth was, the two girls were her only friends, and the thought of losing them was a terrifying prospect. School was bad, but at least they helped to keep the real bullies at bay.

  Therefore, Lucy had kept her mouth closed and watched as people packed up their picnics and headed home.

  Eventually the group of boys had followed suit and Sam had clambered up from the ground, brushing the grass from her jeans and straightening her sparkly top.

  Paula did the same and Lucy bolted to her feet trying her best to appear nonchalant.

  Hugs all round and then the girls had gone their separate ways, Sam and Paula heading off towards the bus station while Lucy headed in the opposite direction. Occasionally, they would turn and wave to one another. As soon as Lucy lost sight of them, she set off running.

  Now she panted her way along the pavement, continually checking her watch, the fear building to volcanic proportions.

  No doubt, her mother would be frantic, Lucy cringed, she might have even called the police to report her missing. The thought turned her stomach to ice; she'd be grounded forever, left to spend her teenage years confined to her bedroom like some fairytale princess with no sign of a prince on the horizon.

  She broke into a jog; her fair hair bounced as the bag slapped against her hip.

  When she came across the hole in the fence, Lucy stopped and flicked the hair from her eyes.

  If she stuck to the road, it would take her another half an hour to reach home. However, if she risked the short cut through the woods, she could be home in half that time.

  Lucy looked at the raspberry coloured sky, slashed with wafer thin dark clouds. A car drove by, a horn blared, and Lucy spun around her hands clutching the strap of her bag.

  Shuffling from one foot to the other in indecision, she gritted her teeth before scurrying forward and sliding through the gap in the fence.

  Dashing across the field, she could see the bank of trees in the distance growing ever nearer. A minute later, she stood at the boundary of the field and looked at the darkened woodland before her.

  'This is a bad idea,' the quite voice inside whispered.

  Lucy agreed wholeheartedly, but if she backtracked then it would take her even longer to get home. Besides, she knew the woodland well; she used to come here for walks with her dad. A sudden image of her father rose in her mind. Two years earlier, they'd spent hot summer days in these woods. She could see it all so clearly her dad in his crazy Bermuda shorts and Homer Simpson t-shirt helping her pick a bunch of wild flowers to take home to mum.

  Lifting her fingertips to her cheek Lucy felt the smear of tears and shook her head in distress.

  She still saw her dad but only at weekends, every Saturday he would park at the end of the drive and beep the horn. Her mother would stay in the kitchen, sometimes she would be crying other times she would have a dark look in her eyes as if she wanted to smash the house up.

  Lucy glanced over her shoulder; she could see lights in the distance, hear the drone of traffic as people headed home from work.

  Pressing the small button on her watch her eyes sprang wide as the dial illuminated the dreaded time.

  If Lucy had glanced back one more time, she would have seen the darkened figure hurrying across the field towards her.

  Instead, she straightened the bag and hitched in a sharp breath before disappearing beneath the trees.

  CHAPTER 5

  The room was tiny, made up of four scuffed magnolia walls, a dismal forty-watt bulb dangled from the nicotine-stained ceiling, the faint smell of old urine and tobacco laced the musty air. An ancient vinyl chair had been pushed into one corner; both arms contained holes as if the occupant had sat picking at the fabric like old scabs.

  Lasser stood in the doorway and looked down; a newspaper lay flat on the asphalt floor, the imprint of a boot stamped onto the image of a page three honey.

  When the alien walked out of the kitchen, Lasser raised a hand, 'Carl, how are you mate?'

  The man in the paper boiler suit popped the mask from his face and smiled. 'Hello boss, how was the holiday?'

  'Apart from the company, it was dire.'

  Carl nodded as if this was no surprise.

  Lasser peered around the room. 'I thought this place would look like a butcher’s shop.'

  'You do know that Philips wasn't killed here?'

  Lasser stepped over the newspaper. 'But I thought...'

  'We found the head in the kitchen but the rest of the place is clean.'

  'So he was done somewhere else?'

  'No doubt about it.'

  Lasser scratched at his chin and tried to work out what had happened. It seemed clear that someone with an axe to grind had caught up with the sex offender. That part he could understand but if Philips had b
een killed somewhere else, then why bother bringing the head back to the flat.

  'It's a puzzle isn't it?' Carl said with a smile.

  'So you've finished checking the place?'

  'Yeah, as far as I'm concerned that's it.'

  'Good,' Lasser replied before pulling out his cigarettes and offering the pack.

  'Where's Bannister?'

  'Don't worry; he's back at the station.'

  Carl grinned before sliding one free from the pack.

  Lasser sparked the lighter and Carl dipped his head to the flame before blowing the smoke out on a sigh of contentment.

  'You said the head was found in the kitchen?'

  'Believe it or not, it was in the microwave.'

  Lasser frowned.

  'We think the killer intended turning it on, but Philips had no money on the lecky card.'

  'Jesus.'

  In life, Colin Philips had been an ugly bugger and Lasser doubted whether ten minutes on full power would have improved the look of the severed head.

  'I know; it doesn't bear thinking about.' Carl said with a grimace.

  Crossing the room, Lasser slid open the window and looked down into a courtyard crowded with black and brown wheelie bins. The rest of the vista taken up by a myriad of slate roofs that stretched away into the fading light.

  Carl moved to his side and blew smoke through the open window. 'This is one ugly town,' he muttered.

  Lasser threw him a sideways glance. 'If you think this is grim you should have seen the hotel we stayed at.'

  'Bad?'

  Leaning forward Lasser dropped the butt through the gap, watching as the cigarette spiralled into the darkness trailing an after burn of sparks. 'I tell you, this place is the Ritz compared to that shithole.'

  Carl couldn't help but laugh.

  CHAPTER 6

  Lucy was lost; she stood there in the dark and started to cry. She was sure she'd been heading in the right direction but after running for ten minutes without seeing any lights, the doubts had begun to surface. After five more minutes of lung bursting terror, she'd stopped as the realisation that she must have missed the path crashed down around her.

  A thin wind hissed through the trees shaking the branches above, Lucy snapped her head around in fright. Everything looked the same; she could see the pale sandstone paths criss-crossing one another as the moon rose between a latticework of branches but she had no idea which one offered a way back to the main road?

  Dragging a hand through her hair, she tried desperately to steady her shredded nerves, though she couldn't shake the feeling of terror that seeped into her bones.

  Heaving in a deep breath she set off walking, the ground beneath her feet undulated; it felt as if she were walking on the back of some long dead dinosaur, the trees creaked as if trying to drag their roots from the ground to give chase.

  Lucy tried to concentrate on what she was going to say when she eventually got home. She knew she wouldn't be able to tell her mother about taking the short cut through the woods. Even if it had been daylight, her mum would still have lectured her about the dangers of walking alone in a place such as this.

  Somewhere close by a bird flapped free of the undergrowth, squawking in alarm. Lucy felt her bladder twitch in fright. Stopping, she crossed her legs; her eyes flitting back and forth, shadows seemed to swell between the trees billowing towards her. The urge to run was overwhelming, though she knew she had to stay calm, had to think. If she gave way to the horror and bolted, God alone knows what would happen. She could fall and twist her ankle, break it even and then she would be faced with spending the night in the smothering darkness.

  Another distressing image flickered to the forefront of her mind, she saw herself laying prone on the hard baked earth, her leg throbbing in agony, and then yellow eyes flickering in the dark as the wolves slouched closer.

  Lucy shook her head that was stupid; there were no wolves in Wigan.

  'There might not be any wolves,' the voice inside whispered. 'But some things are worse than wolves.'

  Lucy gasped as the crouched horror suddenly rose in her mind until it stood tall and menacing on two legs, the fur fell away, the snout crumpled and morphed into a shadowed human face.

  Despite her best intentions, Lucy lunged forward; trees flew by as her feet pounded the ground. All the people she cared about and loved paraded through her brain, their faces stamped with anguish as if they were somehow watching the saga unfold. Her dad in his crazy shorts, her mother sitting at the kitchen table her face buried in a handful of wet tissues, her granny by her side with eyes like pale grey glass. Even Jasper their ancient Jack Russell got in on the act. Lucy could see him with startling clarity sitting in the back garden howling at the pale moon.

  Terror sapped her dwindling energy and she stumbled, her arms thrashing at the air for balance. She felt hot and cold, numb and yet acutely aware of her terror.

  Lucy staggered forward, her coordination in tatters, she had always considered herself a good runner, at school she loved to do cross-country but this was a million miles away from a jog around the school field. At last she collapsed to her knees, her long hair dangled like wet seaweed, her breathing rasped in and out, her chest rose and fell, she could feel the straps of her trainer bra slicing into her shoulders.

  When she heard the dry snap, Lucy scuttled around, her eyes springing wide in terror as she saw the dark shape flying along the path towards her.

  'Run!' the single word erupted in her seized brain; the voice an amalgamation of her mother and father with a sprinkling of granny in there somewhere.

  Lucy shot upright and watched as the shape closed the gap; she saw a pair of white trainers rise and fall, the face a darkened smear. As soon as she turned to run, Lucy knew she would never get away, and then she saw a flicker of light ahead.

  She was too young to understand irony, another light blossomed the road was probably less than a hundred yards away, houses, people, and sanctuary all within her grasp. It may as well have been the surface of the moon. Lucy tried to dig deep, tried to hold onto the thought that maybe she would reach the lights before the figure swooped down to claim her.

  Then her feet became entangled and she screamed at the injustice, too tired to lift her arms, Lucy hit the ground hard, what remained of her breath was wrenched free. She cringed as she felt the skin on her elbows shred, then she screamed again as all the fear, all the terror, blasted out of her stretched mouth.

  Then suddenly she was screaming in harmony, Lucy snapped her mouth closed in confusion. Her fingers clawed at the ground, grit gathered beneath her fingernails and then the alien scream came again. Lucy flopped onto her back like a grounded fish and looked along the path, tears coursed down her cheeks. She blinked in the darkness unsure of what she was seeing. Something glittered silver, sweeping up it hovered in the darkness before hurtling down, this time the scream was short lived.

  Then Lucy Croft heard a sound she would never forget, it reminded her of the time she'd been carrying the pumpkin head to the bin. She had been about seven, and her dad had helped her carve the face into the large fruit. It had sat at the front door for two nights with a candle burning inside. The morning after Lucy had picked it up and was carrying it along the drive when it slipped from her fingers. It fell with a splat; the pulped flesh had spattered her new shoes, the seeds spread out along the flags.

  Lucy shuffled back on her bottom and then the silver wedge rose again and swooped down, though this time there was no scream, just a dull thud followed by the terrible squelching sound.

  Lurching to her feet, Lucy tried to turn away, tried to run but her legs refused to move. She stood and watched as the slab of silver rose and fell, thud, squelch. Time lost all meaning, Lucy knew that if she made it home then her mother wouldn't need to ground her, she would gladly retire to her bedroom of her own accord. Spend the next few years on her bed with her stuffed toys and patch-work dolls that her granny made her.

  Lucy swallowed and peered
into the darkness, she saw the glint of metal rise one last time, and then it seemed to hover before gliding away into the gloom.

  Suddenly the horror slammed into her, her legs twitched and she felt her bladder empty.

  Lucy Croft turned and ran; by the time she made it home, she was hysterical with fright.

  CHAPTER 7

  Lasser slid the seat back before pulling open the brown paper bag on his knees, the smell of fries and burger filled the car.

  Grabbing a handful of chips, he crammed them into his mouth.

  Susan Coyle shook her head. 'Anyone would think you hadn't eaten for a week.'

  Ripping the box open he took a huge bite from the burger, a sliver of gherkin plopped into his lap. Lasser picked it up before flicking it through the open window, watching as a duck waddled over to peck at the strange food.

  'I tell you the food at the hotel was grim. I mean, who the hell wants to eat stuff that spends its life swimming in shite?'

  'But you only went to the south of France, I mean it's not as if it's a third world country.'

  Lasser grunted before taking another bite. 'Frogs legs, snails, I mean what's all that about?'

  'They are meant to be delicacies,' she replied with a smile.

  'Yeah, well, you can keep ‘em.'

  They were sitting in the Audi on the small car park of the Three Sister country park. Forty acres of reclaimed land that had once been a tipping area for all the slag they brought out of the mines. The pits were long gone, trees had been planted, and nature had taken over.

  'So what do you reckon happened to Philips?' Lasser asked before taking another chunk from the vanishing burger.

  Susan grimaced as she thought of the severed head. 'It's got to be connected to one of the families of the girls he abused,' she replied.

  Lasser smiled as he caught the Liverpool twang in her voice, since moving to Wigan, Susan had done her best to lose the accent, though occasionally it could still slip out.