The familiar site of the Shell petrochemical plant came up on the right, a multitude of lights glowing in the darkness, a tall chimney spouted flame into the night sky like Mordor decked out in fairy lights.
He indicated even though at this time of night he was the only car on the motorway and headed down the slip road. Ten minutes later, he pulled onto the farm track and drove the car straight into the barn. When he had first started doing jobs for Munroe he had insisted on having somewhere quiet to work. Therefore, he had leased the smallholding giving a false name and documentation, paying cash up front, no questions asked. The house itself was basic, but Plymouth wasn’t interested in creature comforts. In his line of work, seclusion was paramount; the house sat close to the motorway network, yet his nearest neighbour was over half a mile away.
Switching off the engine, he killed the lights before climbing out, the noises from the rear of the car increased. Plymouth slid the barn door closed and flicked the lights on before popping the boot.
Craig Green tried to leap from the narrow space, but being confined in the small compartment had left his legs rigid with cramp.
‘Fucking bastard!’ he made it out and then collapsed to the floor as his legs gave way.
Plymouth stepped forward and placed his right foot onto Green's cheek, grinding it into the dirt. Craig Green grunted and tried to twist away but the pressure increased forcing him to keep still.
‘I was serious when I said I don’t like bad language, I find it offensive,’ he lifted his foot and stepped back. Green glared up at him, the left side of his face covered with grime from the dirt floor, the right had the imprint of Plymouths boot stencilled onto the skin.
‘You do realise you’re a dead man?’ Craig spat.
Plymouth looked down and smiled. ‘Your big brother coming to the rescue, is that it?’
‘I don’t need my fu...my brother.’
‘Glad to hear it, I admire a man who can stand on his own two feet.’
The irony was lost on Craig; he wiped a hand across his mouth and glared up at his protagonist. ‘Look, if its cash you want then you can forget it, but if you let me go now and I mean right now then I’ll forget this happened.’
‘Dream on Craig, this isn’t a movie where you put the frighteners on me and I simply lose my nerve and let you go.’
Craig scrambled to his feet, wincing as pins and needles throbbed along his calves. The ride in the boot had had a sobering effect and he looked at the blonde haired man properly for the first time. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, his face on the thin side, his eyes bright blue. Craig’s hands bunched into fists, he could see his fist smashing into the man’s nose, see the blood splatter.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you, Mr Green.’
‘Wouldn’t what?’
‘Try to escape, because if you do I can guarantee you won’t make it.’
Craig frowned. ‘Got some boys waiting in the wings have you?’
‘I don’t need any boys as you put it,’ he stepped back. ‘Go on, see how far you get.’
Craig Green prided himself on having plenty of bottle. Growing up in a family like his you had to be able to take care of yourself, but there was something in the casual way the blonde haired man stood back, the small smile stayed on his face as if he found the whole episode amusing.
‘What’s the catch?’
‘No catch, you run, I catch you, and cut off a body part.’
At first, he thought he had misheard, Plymouth remained motionless as if he were standing at the bar in some swanky club shooting the breeze.
‘What is it you want?’
‘Your brother.’
Craig dragged up a harsh laugh. ‘If you think you can blackmail him by keeping hold of me then you’re thicker than you look.’
The grin widened. ‘I didn’t realise I looked ‘thick.’
‘Well you must be, pal, because if you knew anything about Callum then you’d know he doesn’t respond well to being threatened.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘So do yourself a favour and let me go.’
Plymouth checked his watch. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Not really.’
Craig took a step toward him, opening and closing his fists, his natural anger rising to the surface.
Plymouth raised an eyebrow. ‘One more step and I’ll consider it an act of violence.’
‘Get fucked!’ Craig bulleted forward cocking his right arm back, instead of moving away Plymouth dropped into a crouch. As the fist whistled over his head, he snapped upright his right hand lashed out and Craig felt a sudden hotwire pain across his stomach. Plymouth sidestepped as Green’s legs became entangled and he clattered back to the dirt floor. He tried to scramble to his feet and then the pain kicked in. Taking a huge breath, he looked down as blood oozed along the waistband of his trousers. ‘What have you done?’ he gasped.
‘I warned you. Now get up, and count yourself lucky.’
‘Lucky!’ he looked up, somewhere above he could hear the flapping of wings, the birds roosting in the roof disturbed into flight, a few seconds later they settled once more, feathers fluttered lazily to the ground.
‘You fucking bastard I’ll kill you!’ The humiliation of being captured by a man who looked like an inconsequential pretty boy swept over him. He was Craig Green and the name alone demanded a level of respect and fear that money couldn’t buy.
Plymouth grabbed a handful of Craig’s hair and yanked, he cried out in shocked surprise and tried to lash out, but the pain across his stomach made him groan in agony. A second later, he was back in the trunk of the car.
‘Please!’ It was the first time he'd used that word in years, it was another bonus of being a Green, you took what you wanted, when you wanted.
‘Goodnight, Craig.’
The boot slammed shut and Craig began to shout obscenities, after five minute the shouts had turned to screams.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lasser sipped his coffee and looked out of the kitchen window; the bushes in the garden were drooping under the weight of the snow, the lawn a lumpy blanket of white.
‘What time is it?’
Cathy was standing in the doorway, her dark hair mussed from sleep; she yawned and pulled the bathrobe tight around her.
‘Half one.’
She walked over to the cupboard and slid out a mug. ‘So how did it go?’
‘Bad.’
‘He’s dead then?’
‘Oh yes, somebody set about his head with a chunk of table leg.’
‘That rhymes.’
Lasser frowned and then smiled as the penny dropped. ‘We found the chains from Munroe’s jewellers which prove our pawnbroker was bent.’
She poured hot water into the cup and added a splash of milk. ‘And the thief killed Weisman to stop him talking?’
‘It looks that way. The killer knew that Weisman could link him to the murder so he goes around for a quiet word and during the conversation, he decides that he can’t trust the pawnbroker and...’
‘Loses the plot.’
‘Big time.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘Well, Bannister wants me to find out if Weisman taking the chains was a one-off.’
Cathy looked at him in disbelief, ‘A one-off?’
‘Yeah, I know its bollocks, he’d been in the business for over thirty years so I would imagine he had a network of scrotes stealing to order.’
‘And Bannister thinks that one of them might know who the killer is?’
‘That’s the general idea.’ A clump of snow fell off the laurel bush.
‘It sounds reasonable enough.’
He yawned and poured the coffee down the sink. ‘Still, if it carries on like this we might get snowed in.’
‘Is there any news on Collins?’
‘Not a peep.’
‘Do you think Green could have got hold of him?’
Lasser thought for a moment. ‘I don’t see how, I mean, I was the one who recognised the girl and made the link with Collins, so there’s no way Green could know we’re looking for him. Besides according to Rimmer, Bannister has already been to pay Green a visit and as far as he’s concerned Callum’s a law abiding citizen.’
Cathy sipped her coffee and frowned before spooning in a sugar. ‘Well to be honest, Green has never even had a speeding ticket let alone anything drug related.’
‘Go back a few years and he was in and out of the nick, it’s only as he’s got older he’s learned how to cover his tracks.’
‘Perhaps he’s not as bad as you think; I mean, the haulage company seems legit.’
Lasser frowned, the boiler kicked in and a cloud of steam drifted past the kitchen window. ‘You’re probably right about the trucks, but people like Green never change, he’s a nutter who should have been locked up years ago.’
Cathy popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. ‘If it was left to you half the town would be behind bars.’
He lit a cigarette and shrugged. ‘I’ve nothing against the people who nick a bit here and there to make ends meet. It’s the ones who don’t need the money that get my back up.’
‘You mean people like Green?’
‘Exactly, he could go straight and still make a good living. He’s responsible for the Suzi Beddows’ of this world, selling herself to every pervert in town. The man doesn’t give a toss about the lives he ruins, it’s all about that,’ he rubbed finger and thumb together. ‘He only cares that the cash keeps on mounting up. I mean, I’ve had dealings with the whole family, and they think they’re above the law. His brother...’
‘I didn’t realise he had one.’
‘Craig, two years younger and uses the fact that he’s a Green to treat people like shit.’
‘A nice guy, then?’
‘A total cretin, if it wasn’t for his older brother, Craig would be scratching around trying to make a living with a tribe of kids in tow.’
‘So he isn’t Callum’s right hand man?’
Lasser snorted. ‘I would imagine he’s more a hindrance than a help.’
‘I wonder how he’s taken the news of his grandmother’s death.’
‘He’s like Callum, he’ll wail and gnash his teeth, but the truth is they’re only interested in their reputation. If they don’t catch this man it’ll make them look weak and in their line of business, weakness is something they can’t afford.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Shaun paced the small kitchen, he couldn’t stop shaking, his whole body thrummed with adrenaline. The washing machine rumbled away in the corner, his clothes swirled around in red tainted water.
His brain kept flashing up images of Weisman, each image showing his face in various stages of demolition, the table leg rising and falling, blood spraying around the room.
Opening the fridge, he pulled out a can of lager his fingers skittering as he pulled the tab and drained it in one long swallow. Tossing it toward the bin, he grabbed another.
He needed to calm down and think straight, he thought back to the euphoria he felt after grabbing the chains and the prospect of a good Christmas with cash in his pocket. Two days later and he was reduced to this. The notion that he was a double murderer was quashed before it could flicker into life. Weisman would have grassed him up and nobody liked a grass. As for the old woman, well, she just got in the way, it was an accident. If it had been anyone else he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, it was just his bad luck that she'd been related to Callum Green.
‘Stupid bitch,’ he hissed and pushed himself up from the chair. All he had to do was sit tight; with Weisman dead there was no way Green would be able to link him to the robbery. He was just glad that he hadn’t blabbed to any of his friends, under normal circumstances bragging rights were all part of the game. Gaining a reputation was important, it showed you had bottle, it proved you could do the job and walk away. People would come to you knowing that you could get what they wanted, no questions asked.
All he needed to do was to take things easy for a few days and carry on as if nothing had happened. When he heard the key in the lock, he frowned and headed towards the small living room. Kirsty stood swaying in the doorway; she dropped her handbag and tottered toward the sofa on skyscraper heels.
‘Did you have a good night?’ he asked automatically.
She flopped down, her tiny skirt rode up, Shaun looked at her legs he could feel the beginnings of an erection.
‘Yeah, was good thanks,’ she hiccupped; her mascara had run creating dark smudges beneath her eyes. ‘Has your headache gone?’
He blinked; the last few hours had felt like an age. ‘Er yeah, I had a few painkillers.’
Kirsty fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a half-eaten kebab. ‘Do you want it?’ she thrust it towards him, the lank, greasy meat hung from the pitta bread, a blob of mayonnaise plopped to the floor. Shaun looked at it and his erection shrivelled.
Another image of Weisman clicked into place, in his mind he saw the red crease down the centre of Weisman’s face, one eye had been completely obliterated, while the other glared up at him through a bubble of white and red froth. Miller dashed to the toilet the bile flushing into his mouth. Vomit sprayed over the bathroom floor spattering across the sink and toilet, collapsing to his knees he lifted the toilet seat and carried on heaving.
‘Oh you dirty bastard.’ Kirsty rose to her feet and weaved her way to the bedroom. ‘If you think I’m going to clean that up then you can get fucked.’ She slammed the door and collapsed onto the bed, a minute later she was asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lasser shivered, he was standing on the patio munching on a slice of burnt toast watching as a robin balanced on the washing line. During the early hours, the snow had continued to fall; now morning sunlight glittered off the surface, forcing him to squint against the glare. A mini avalanche slid from the shed roof, falling with a soft thump into the barren flowerbed.
Cathy stepped out into the garden fastening the zip of her jacket. ‘Have you seen how thick it is on the avenue?’
‘Not yet,’ he handed a slice over and she took a grateful bite.
‘I don’t think I’ll be able to move my car.’
‘You won’t, that drive is steeper than it looks that’s why I left mine on the road.’
‘Well thanks for letting me know.’
He grinned and popped the rest of the toast into his mouth. ‘So, what’s on your agenda today?’
She grimaced. ‘I’m patrolling the town centre with Spenner, trying to find out who took the collection boxes.’
‘I see, high octane stuff.’
‘Very funny.’
He had to retrieve the plastic shovel from the boot to clear the wheels; by the time he climbed back into the car sweat was trickling down his forehead, his shirt sticking to his back. The wheels spun and the car inched forward.
Cathy checked her watch. ‘I’m due to meet Spenner at half seven.’
‘So get out and push.’
She grinned. ‘This is why I joined the force, for the high speed car chases.’
The wheels suddenly found some traction and he slithered along the avenue. The gritters had been out and the main road was relatively clear, snow was piled in the gutters like a dirty mountain range in miniature.
The journey into the town centre normally took fifteen minutes; almost an hour later he pulled up onto the car park of the new Tesco store. Spenner was standing in the entrance drinking a milkshake and munching on a McDonald's breakfast.
‘Shit, he’s already here,’ she hissed and ducked low in her seat.
‘What are you doing?’
‘If he spots us then everyone'll know we’re seeing one another.’
‘Too late, Cathy, nothing escapes his eagle eyes.’
Spenner waved a hand and began to walk over.
‘Leave it to me,’ he slid the window down and
Spenner poked his head into the gap.
As soon as he saw Cathy, he frowned.
‘Morning, Spenner, I found WPC Harper walking along the High Street.’
‘Where’s your car?’ he asked.
‘Snowed in, I’ve spent half an hour trying to dig it out, in the end I decided to catch the bus.’
Spenner nodded, though the frown still hovered on his face.
‘So how did the stakeout go?’ Lasser asked.
‘It was freezing in that empty house, sir.’
True to his word, Lasser had made sure that Marcy Philip’s house was being watched. ‘I can imagine, but I take it she had no visitors?’
‘Well, a woman called around at,’ he slid a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open, ‘eighteen ten last night.’
‘And?’
‘She was still there when we pulled out.’
Lasser nodded, ‘Good. Right, I'd better let you two get going.’
Cathy clicked open the door. ‘Thanks for the lift.’
‘Not a problem,’ he slid up the window and pulled away. Catching sight of them in the rear view mirror, Spenner sucking on his milkshake like a five year old as Cathy headed into the store.
On the High Street, the traffic had started to build as the school runs picked up pace, with parents dashing to child minders to drop off their kids before heading off to work. He pulled up at the traffic lights watching as a young woman struggled along the pavement, trying to push a buggy through the snow. Every few seconds the wheels became stuck, forcing her to tilt the front wheels into the air. The child strapped inside giggling as the mother cursed under her breath, the obscenities billowing out on a cloud of hot air.
Lasser trailed the school bus up the street, the back seat lined with kids who all seemed to be talking at once. A girl with back combed hair was slapping on foundation, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, scratching at the nicotine patch Lasser resisted the urge to spark up.
Ten minutes later, he eased onto the station car park. The building looked more like a factory unit rather than the local headquarters. A couple of squad cars were no more than white humps in the corner, the rest of the car park was an empty sea of white, driving through the virgin snow Lasser parked up. Although it was bright, the sun gave off no warmth, a thin wind hissed across the open land that surrounded the building causing him to shiver. Hurrying toward the door, he swiped his card through the electronic slot; the door clicked but refused to open.
The Way That It Falls: DS Lasser series volume 2 (The DS Lasser series.) Page 10