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

by Robin Roughley

  Perhaps he could talk Ellie into downsizing. Harry snarled, another ridiculous idea, besides if he was right then his wife was already arranging a ‘get out before the Bolt ship sunk without trace’. Six months earlier one of the six houses in the exclusive cul-de-sac had been up for sale and Anthony Minster had moved in - an architect from Manchester. Harry had seen him looking at Ellie as he carried boxes back and forth to the house. Ellie had insisted they go over and offer to help. Harry had been reluctant though he knew he would do as she asked, and then Harry had spent the whole afternoon lugging boxes from the van and into the house.

  Eventually, he had come to realise that while he was trudging back and forth, Minster was busy showing Ellie around the house.

  Harry gritted his teeth, he was the one all right, the one shagging his young wife. As quickly as the anger flared it died like a small grass fire in a downpour.

  The anger turned to disgust, disgust at his weak willed spineless self.

  Harry checked his mirrors and indicated left, the road narrowing as he swept out into open countryside. Five minutes later, he turned right, the headlights picking up the sandstone new builds. Exclusive, that's what the estate agent had told him and yet now there were rumours that the owner of the land had sold of a huge chunk that was earmarked for further building.

  Harry pulled up onto the drive and killed the engine. The house was in darkness, Ellie must still be at the gym or perhaps she was rutting wither lover-boy in his king sized bed.

  Climbing out, he slammed the car door, his pitiful temper flaring again.

  Three steps forward and the security light under the front porch clicked into life and Harry Bolt screamed.

  The man had been tied to the wooden upright of the porch; his arms strapped behind his back, his legs had been lashed at the knees. Harry stood in the glare of white light and looked at the face. A rope had been tied around his neck pinning him to the post, twin rivers of blood ran down his cheeks from the holes where the eyes used to sit.

  The sight slammed into the rotund figure of Harry Bolt, and he pirouetted, his arms sweeping out like a child pretending to be an aeroplane. Harry ran down the drive, the harsh scream sweeping out across the open fields.

  Somewhere close by an owl hooted.

  CHAPTER 70

  The car headlights picked up Medea standing in front of the open door. Lasser pulled up behind her Kia and leaped out.

  'Med are you OK?'

  She smiled sadly. 'I'm fine.'

  Lasser strode towards her and watched as she shuffled to the side, her face red with embarrassment. 'I considered cleaning it off but I thought you should see it first.'

  Lasser looked at the word scrawled on the woodwork; hands bunched into fists, teeth locked together the fury simmering.

  'Bastard!'

  'It's no use losing your temper, what's done is done.'

  Lasser slid an arm around her shoulder. 'And nobody saw who did it?'

  'Christopher spotted it but he said there was no one hanging around the house.'

  'Maybe I should go and have a word?'

  'Leave it for tonight, you must be worn out.'

  Pulling out his keys Lasser walked over to the garage and opened the door.

  'What are you doing?'

  He disappeared inside for a few seconds before remerging with paint tin and brush in hand.

  'Lasser leave it, come and have something to eat.'

  'Give me five minutes and I'll be in.'

  'But...'

  'Please Med, I need to get this sorted.' Pulling a screwdriver from his back pocket, Lasser popped the lid and dipped the brush into the blue gloss.

  'The lengths I have to go to get the front door painted.' Medea said.

  Lasser looked at her in shock, and then they were laughing together.

  Ten minutes later, they sat facing one another across the kitchen table. 'I'll make sure a couple of the lads keep an eye on the house.' Lasser said.

  'Come on, Bannister won't agree to that, I mean, some idiot wrote an insult on the door, it's hardly front page news.'

  'I don't care and Bannister doesn't need to know about it.'

  'Oh no you don't, I don't want this blowing up in your face, now forget it and finish your tea.'

  Lasser poked the food around on his plate, his appetite long gone, the anger still smouldering below the surface. 'I still don't get it I mean, why the hell would someone write that on the bloody door?'

  Medea took a sip from her coffee cup, watching him over the rim. 'I guess we'll never know.'

  'Oh I'll find out...'

  'But...'

  'Listen Medea, the tyres were one thing but this is well out of order.'

  'Forget it.'

  Lasser eased back in his chair and looked at her closely. 'What do you mean forget it?'

  'Like you said it could still be kids...'

  'I don't care if it's a ten year old, they're gonna be in so much shit when I get my mitts on them.'

  'And what good will that do? I mean, if you rise to it then he's won.' As soon as the words left her mouth, she realised her mistake.

  Lasser picked up his cup and took a drink before pulling out the cigarette pack and heading for the door. Medea heaved a sigh of relief as he sparked up and opened the door blowing the smoke out into the darkness. Crossing the room, she came up behind him and slid her hands onto his shoulders.

  'Why don't I run you a bath and then you can try and get some sleep.'

  Lasser sighed and flicked the half-smoked cigarette onto the patio flags. 'You said 'he.'

  Medea hitched in a breath as he turned towards her.

  'Do you have an idea who this man is, Med?'

  Her shoulders slumped.

  Up above the stars glittered in a clear sky.

  'You'd better come back inside, ' she whispered.

  CHAPTER 71

  The man watched from a distance as another police car hurtled past. Pulling on the cigarette, he slid out his phone and punched at the screen.

  'Michael how are you my friend?' He asked before tapping on the loudspeaker and dropping the phone onto the passenger seat.

  'I'm ok.'

  'Making full use of Mr Wilson I hope?'

  'Er yeah, yeah.'

  'Good, I'm glad to hear it. I knew I'd picked a winner when I chose you.'

  He smiled when he heard the sound of Brewster clearing his throat. 'Thanks.'

  'And how are the police treating you?'

  'You don't need to worry about them, I told you I'm used to how they operate.'

  'Right well, if you're interested then I have another exclusive for you.'

  The phone went quite, though he could hear the reporter's rapid breathing.

  'Another body?'

  'Mm.'

  'Where?'

  'You'll have to get your skates on; the police are already involved with this one...'

  'But...'

  'Don't interrupt, Michael, it's not advisable.' Sliding the window down, he dropped the cigarette onto the road, the smell of slurry wafted in through the window. 'Mulberry Close, do you know where it is?'

  'It doesn't sound familiar.'

  'I'll give you the post code, I take it you have sat nav?'

  'Er yeah, yeah, I can find it.'

  'The man's name is John Sanderford.'

  'Another sex offender?' Brewster asked.

  'Got it in one, I've left him at the home of someone called Harold Bolt.'

  'Bolt?'

  'He's the head of Social Services in this area, it's his job to monitor these people, and he's been failing in this simple task.'

  'I get you.'

  'So off you go, strike while the irons hot, Michael.'

  'But couldn't you give me more details?'

  'Details?'

  'Well yeah, I mean why do I have to go running out there, wouldn't it make more sense if you filled me in and...'

  'So you want all the plaudits without moving from your Lazy Boy, is that what
you're telling me?'

  'I...'

  'I hardly think sacrificing the warmth of your apartment is too much to ask, Michael. By the time you're finished you'll be the number one guy, you'll be able to walk into any job...'

  'I know and don't think I don't appreciate what you're doing for me...'

  'I'm not doing it for you!' The man's voice rose until it filled the car.

  'I'm sorry,' Brewster sounded like a small child caught in the throes of a nightmare.

  'Now do you want the address or not?'

  'Yeah, yeah, of course I do.'

  'Pen and paper?'

  'Got one here.'

  Another set of blue lights spiralled past in the distance.

  'Good man,' he said with a smile.

  CHAPTER 72

  Lasser could feel the phone vibrating in his pocket and he ignored it. 'So where does Stokes live?'

  Medea folded her arms and shrugged. 'I have no idea.'

  'And you say you felt threatened when he collared you at Tesco?'

  Medea raised an eyebrow. 'Shouldn't you answer that?'

  'Forget the phone Med, this is important.'

  'I hadn't seen Adam in over two years; I broke up with him because he was a liar and a cheat.'

  'Sounds like a charmer.'

  Medea shrugged. 'I was young and stupid and I put up with more than I should have.'

  'So when he jumped you in town...'

  'He didn't jump me.'

  Lasser held up a hand, his phone continued to trill. 'Ok that came out wrong, but he must have done something to unnerve you otherwise you wouldn't be telling me all this.'

  Medea looked down at the table. 'When we were together, Adam could be a bit volatile.'

  Lasser's anger went up another notch. It was a familiar word, he'd heard plenty of women in the past call their husbands or partners volatile, or unpredictable. It was a stock word for handy with his fists.

  'He hit you?'

  Medea flicked him a glance and then turned away to look out of the window. 'Just answer the bloody phone will you?' she snapped.

  It was the first time he had ever heard her sound distressed and it made his heart ache to hear it. 'Listen, Med...'

  'Please,' she turned to face him. 'Get the phone; we can talk about this later.'

  Lasser opened his mouth to argue, when he saw the tears simmering in her eyes, he pulled the phone out, as expected it was Bannister.

  'Is it Alan?'

  'Who else.'

  Medea stood up and walked towards the sink. 'You can't ignore it, some things are more important than a word scrawled on a front door.'

  Left with no choice, he pressed the small green button.

  CHAPTER 73

  It was easy to see the house in the distance, the night sky was lit by swirling blue light, the closer Lasser got the more they hurt his eyes. Then a set of headlights rounded the curve in the road and he eased over to the left as the ambulance bulleted past, the Audi buffeted by the draft. Lasser watched the emergency vehicle diminish in the rear view mirror, before pulling back onto the narrow road. A couple of minutes later, he turned left into a small circular cul-de-sac. The turning space clogged with police vehicles; Lasser spotted Doc Shannon's old Land Rover half on half off the curb.

  Clicking open the door, he climbed out and grabbed his winter coat from the boot. When he turned, Bannister was striding towards him. Lasser heaved in a deep breath and waited for the barrage of abuse. When he was three feet away, the DCI stopped and looked at the sergeant through narrowed eyes.

  'What's the matter with you?'

  'Nothing.'

  'Don't give me that, I can tell when you're having one of your strops. What's happened has Medea seen through you at last?'

  Lasser shook his head and told Bannister about the tyres and the twisted graffiti artist. By the time he'd finished, Bannister looked as angry as Lasser felt.

  'And Medea thinks it's this ex boyfriend?'

  'Could be, but she can't say for definite.'

  'Sir!'

  Bannister snapped a look over his shoulder; Susan Coyle was walking towards them taking a short cut across the front lawn of Bolt's house.

  'What's the matter Coyle?'

  'We've found Mrs Bolt.'

  'Right good, did she see anything?'

  'The thing is, sir, she was at the house across the road.'

  'So what's that got to do with..?'

  'You bloody whore!'

  Lasser snapped his head around in surprise as Harry Bolt stormed from the house, his short legs working at a furious pace, tears streamed down his plump cheeks.

  'What the...'

  'That's what I was going to tell you; apparently Mrs Bolt has been having an affair with the guy across the road.'

  'Bloody great,' Bannister cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Wait there Mr Bolt!'

  Harry threw a look over his shoulder, his face twisted in anguish. 'Rotten whore!' he screamed and carried on waddling away.

  'Black!' Bannister bellowed.

  Steve Black was standing guard at the front of the house, when he heard his name he snapped to attention. 'Yes sir?'

  'Stop Mr Bolt before he does himself an injury will you?'

  Black nodded and jogged after the unfortunate Mr Bolt.

  Lasser frowned as he looked at the front of the house. 'So where's Sanderford?'

  'Believe it or not he's still alive.'

  'Alive!'

  'Of a fashion, sergeant.'

  'What...'

  'He'd been strapped to the porch, minus his eyes and tongue.'

  Lasser felt his stomach plummet. 'Christ.'

  'How long he'll actually live is anyone's guess.'

  'I thought the ambulance was in a hurry.'

  'Mm.' Bannister looked across the road. 'For God's sake, Black!

  Lasser turned in time to see Harry Bolt yank a stone from the rockery of the house across the road. Steve Black broke into a sprint though he was never going to make it. The rock went through the front window of number three, just as Black hurled himself forward, shoulder dipped, he slammed into Bolt, and both men tumbled to the front lawn.

  'Jesus fucking Christ!' Bannister hissed in disbelief.

  The front door of the vandalised house slammed open and a tall dark haired man stood looking at the hole in the window his face etched with shock.

  'Bolt, you little bastard!' Running forward, he threw himself full length onto the two men as they struggled on the close-cropped lawn.

  'I don't believe this!' Bannister raised his hands to the sky like some fervent preacher singing hallelujah. 'What the hell is wrong with people?'

  Lasser dashed across the road; grabbing the neighbour by the scruff of the neck, he yanked him back. The man lashed out with his right leg, his foot slamming into Steve Blacks backside. Black yelped and spun around, a grass stain on his forehead, shock in his eyes.

  'Ok, calm it down,' Lasser hissed into the man's ear.

  'You saw what he did, he smashed my window.'

  'Minster I'll kill you!' Harry Bolt bellowed.

  'I want to press charges,' Minster spat. 'I could have been killed!'

  'Yeah well maybe next time you'll think twice before you start shagging your neighbour’s wife,' Lasser whispered.

  Minster's eyes sprang wide colour flooded his face. 'I...'

  'I think you got of lightly, Mr Minster, don't you?'

  'I...'

  'Jones, could you take Mr Minster back into the house, give him chance to calm down.'

  PC Jones licked his lips and took hold of Minster's elbow before steering him towards the house.

  Bannister appeared at his side. 'Sergeant, we're spread too thin.'

  'Nothing new there then.'

  'I want you to get over to Leigh and find out if this Cropper knows anything.'

  'No problem.'

  'I...'

  'Sir!'

  Bannister closed his eyes. 'What is it Wright?'

  Sally Wri
ght had her head dipped to the two way on her shoulder. 'DI Cooper's just been onto sergeant Meadows, and...'

  'The abridged version, Sally if you don't mind?'

  Wright nodded. 'Sorry, sir, but they've found a body at Sanderford's house.'

  Lasser frowned.

  Bannister took a backward step as if someone had farted and left a foul stench. 'What the hell do you mean they've found a body?'

  'According to DI Cooper it's the next door neighbour.'

  'Woods?' Lasser snapped.

  'Sorry sir, I didn't get the name.'

  When Lasser saw the glare of headlights in the distance, he grimaced. 'It looks as if the vultures are here.'

  Bannister turned as two more sets of light lit up the fields.

  'Fucking great,' he spat. 'Right Lasser get going and I want to know what Cropper has to say.'

  'I'll be as quick as I can.'

  'Make sure you are.'

  By the time Lasser had climbed into the car, the two white vans and Brewster's red Mazda sports car were parked at the end of the short road.

  As he drove past, he saw Brewster looking at him through the window of his car. Lasser pointed his finger directly at him and the reporter snapped his head away.

  'Twat!' Lasser shouted and then got his foot down.

  CHAPTER 74

  Medea tried to concentrate on the television, flicking through the channels, ‘click’ a cooking programme, ‘click’ someone showing you how to weave a basket out of willow, another ‘click’ showed a group of pissed teenagers in Newcastle staggering in the street. One young girl sat on the curb, her micro skirt hitched around her waist, red knickers on view.

  With a sigh she clicked the TV off and thought about going to bed, the clock on the wall showed half eleven. She had to be at work for seven but sleep felt a million miles away. She could smell the scent of fresh paint, imagined someone crouched at the front of the house spray can in hand.

  Medea chewed her bottom lip, perhaps telling Lasser of her suspicions had been a mistake. After all, it might not be Adam; she had no proof, though she knew as soon as Lasser got the chance, he would be paying her ex boyfriend a visit.

  Pushing herself up from the sofa, she wandered into the kitchen and clicked on the kettle before grabbing a cup from the drainer.