The Way That It Falls: DS Lasser series volume 2 (The DS Lasser series.)

by Robin Roughley

  ‘Bugger,’ he swiped it again, another whirr as the motor struggled into life, grabbing the freezing handle he heaved and the door juddered open. Squeezing through, he kicked at the door; loose snow fell from his shoes and onto the carpet tiles.

  Meadows looked up as he bundled his way inside.

  ‘It was like that for me when I got in this morning.’

  Lasser crossed the room blowing onto his freezing hands. ‘Well, have you reported it?’

  ‘I think the motor's frozen.’

  ‘Well if you don’t want your arse chewing I’d suggest you get someone out to look at it. I mean, personally I don’t mind standing freezing my bollocks off but I don’t think Bannister will be as accommodating.’

  Meadows blanched. ‘I have some WD40 in the car do you think that might help?’

  Lasser shrugged and headed through the double doors that led into the station. First stop the coffee machine, PC Black was slumped at one of the tables, eyes closed, snoring lightly. At the sound of money dropping into the machine he looked up bleary eyed.

  ‘Has it stopped snowing?’

  ‘For now, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

  ‘I should have been home three hours ago,’ he yawned. ‘But I came to work on the bike and I didn’t fancy a five mile ride home, not in this weather.’

  ‘Wise decision, anyway how did things go at Weisman’s?’

  Black scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘We found a lot of stolen goods in the cellar.’

  ‘What kind of goods?’

  ‘Jewellery mainly, oh, and a couple of paintings.’

  ‘Do you want a brew?’

  ‘No thanks, I’m sick of feeding money into that machine. Oh, by the way, Bannister was looking for you.’

  Lasser frowned, ‘When?’

  ‘Last night after they took the body away.’

  ‘I have an alibi.’

  Black nodded. 'Good job, because he didn’t look happy.’

  ‘Bannister never looks happy.’ He slipped the cup from the little slot and took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste. ‘Listen, I’m heading off to the Lancaster road estate, I can drop you off on the way.’

  Black checked his watch. ‘I’m back on duty in six hours; I might as well stay here.’

  ‘I take it Carol's not come back then?’

  ‘Nah, she’s still staying at her sister’s.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘It’s just a temporary thing she’ll be back.’

  Lasser raised an eyebrow; Black didn’t look too thrilled at the prospect of having his wife back under the same roof. ‘Right well, I’ll catch you later,’ he took another sip and dropped the half-full cup into the bin.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot, we managed to get some prints from the chains.’

  Lasser stopped and looked at his colleague in disbelief. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, they weren’t actually on the chains, they were on the plastic card that...’

  ‘Jesus, Steve, get on with it.’

  Black smiled. ‘His name's Shaun Miller, funnily enough he lives in the flats off Millers Lane.’

  ‘What are we doing about it?’

  ‘Well, Rimmer’s gone up there with a few of the boys...’

  ‘And no one thought to give me a ring?’ He could feel the familiar anger begin to build.

  ‘Nothing to do with me,’ Black held up his hands and smiled.

  ‘No, it never is. How long ago was this?’

  ‘What time is it now?’

  ‘What am I, the speaking bloody clock? It’s nine o clock.’

  ‘Oh right, well, they left about twenty minutes ago.’

  Lasser nodded and headed from the room, Black stretched out across the plastic chairs and tried to get back to sleep.

  At the entrance, Meadows was balancing on a short pair of stepladders squirting an aerosol at the frozen motor.

  ‘Come on, Meadows, out the way.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’

  Lasser squeezed past, like the invisible man.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Somehow, he had fallen asleep; his head slumped on his chest, the ties biting into his arms and legs. Sometime during the night he had urinated were he sat, he winced as he tried to lift his head, the muscles in his neck rigid from lack of movement.

  The garage was freezing, Barry could see his breath clouding before his eyes, he had no idea if it was day of night, but it felt as if he had been shackled to the chair for days, his stomach rumbled and everything throbbed like a bitch.

  When the garage door swung open, he caught site of a world of white before Callum Green closed it behind him. Barry began to cry, all thoughts of being king of the hill and running his own Drugs Empire vanished. Green stood in front of him and watched as the twin tracks of tears cut through the grime on his face, Barry tried to look away and found that he couldn’t, he tried to move his arms but the ties sliced further into his wrists.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?'

  ‘That depends, if you’ve been telling me the truth...’

  ‘I have, honest, Mr Green. I mean, only a fucking idiot would try and rob from you.’

  ‘But you are a fucking idiot, Barry.’

  Barry didn’t know how to respond, he could smell the sour tang of his own piss wafting up his nose, it was humiliating and degrading and...

  The door opened and Tommy Speel entered, his shoulders sprinkled with snow.

  Callum glanced over his shoulder. ‘Did you find her?’

  ‘It looks as if she’s done a runner, Cal. The wardrobe was empty and...’

  ‘Fucking bitch!’ Barry spat out the words and began to thrash back and forth in the chair, if he could get his hands on the cunt he would slice her up into little fucking pieces.

  Callum turned to him. ‘Do you have any idea where she could have gone?’

  Barry shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘What about family and friends?’

  He opened his mouth, to say that he didn’t have a fucking clue, she had been working for him for over six months and he knew next to nothing about her. After all, why should he, she was a slag, a piece of meat who brought in a few quid, nothing more, nothing less.

  ‘Right well, it’s your lucky day, Barry, because I’m going to give you forty eight hours to find her.’

  Barry blinked and for a moment, he almost pissed himself again in relief. ‘I’ll find her, Mr Green, find her, and bring her to you.’

  Callum walked over to the workbench that lined one wall of the garage and plucked a long screwdriver from the rack before turning back to Collins. ‘You'd better, because if you don’t I won’t bother looking for you until I’ve paid a visit to the girl who lives on Burnside Avenue, you know the one who has a kid by you. Now I know that probably means nothing to a cunt like you, but when I’ve finished with them I’ll wipe out the rest of your family, your two brothers and that little sister of yours.’

  Barry swallowed, he could see from the look in Green’s eyes that his words were not idle threats, yet despite this, he knew that if he didn’t find Suzi Beddows within the allotted time, he would do a runner and the others could fucking fend for themselves.

  When the phone began to ring, Callum frowned, annoyed by the sudden intrusion. Reaching into his pocket, he checked the number before slapping it to his ears.

  ‘What do you want, Craig, I'm busy?’

  Tommy smiled down at Barry, he could see the flicker of hope in the boys eyes, could see the conniving brain trying to work through his limited options.

  ‘Who the fuck is this!’

  Tommy turned, the look on Callum’s face was hard to fathom, rage flitted through his eyes quickly followed by disbelief and something else that Tommy hadn’t seen before, fear, it reared and then vanished.

  ‘This had better be some kind of joke pal, because...’ he fell silent.

  Tommy could hear a tinny voice coming from the phone. Barry groaned as his nos
e started to throb. Tommy held a finger to his lips and Barry nodded before clamping his mouth closed, screwing up his eyes to block out the pain.

  ‘You’ve done what!’ Cal removed the phone from his ear and looked at it in disbelief.

  ‘What’s the matter...?’ Tommy asked.

  Green swiped a hand through the air and slammed the phone back to his ear. ‘If you do anything to harm him I will fucking kill you, do you understand me?’

  Tommy had seen his friend angry before, his temper was legendary, though he had never seen him like this. ‘Are you laughing at me, are you seriously fucking laughing at me?’ I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like bad language...’ Spittle flew from his lips, his eyes bulging in disbelief.

  Tommy would never have believed that a scream coming from a tiny chunk of plastic could have sounded so loud, so appalling. Barry snapped his eyes open, for a second his own pain and fear forgotten. The noise from the phone sounded like a small animal caught in a vicious trap, full of visceral pain and anguish, the mobile jittered from Callum’s fingers and fell to the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Shaun hit the ground and scuttled forward on his hands and knees, he could hear the two coppers thundering down the stone steps behind him, sense them closing in. Leaping up, he headed down the next flight, his hand sliding down the metal banister, taking the steps three at a time. In the stairwell the acrid scent of old piss and boiled cabbage filled the air. He spun out onto the kerb and dashed across the road, elbowing a kid out of the way and sending him crashing to the ground in a flurry of snow. Over his shoulder, the two coppers appeared and set off in pursuit. Panic reared leaving him breathless, he started to run but it was the stuff of nightmares, as if the very air around him had thickened forming a barrier that slowed him down.

  He tried to fathom how they had managed to track him down, his mind crackling with fear. Perhaps Weisman had still been alive; maybe he'd crawled to the phone and called the police, a final act of defiance before he died. Shaun shook his head, that wasn’t possible his head had been reduced to a slab of pulped flesh, his brains spread across the granite tiles. Another glance and the fear redoubled, they were gaining, their faces set with determination. One had a nightstick in his hand, arms and legs pumping as they closed the gap.

  Shaun lost his footing on the icy pavement and crashed to the ground, a billow of snow flew into his sweating face the freezing sensation snapping him from the stupor. It didn’t matter how they’d found him, the important thing was to get away. Nothing else mattered; Kirsty and his young son were irrelevant. He clambered to his feet and stepped into the road, the men were twenty feet away and closing fast.

  Shaun took a huge shuddering breath and began to run and suddenly the panic subsided, his legs felt like his own, his lungs drew in the cold morning air as he flew down the street heading for the town centre. When he looked back, he almost laughed aloud; the pursuers were slipping and sliding along the pavement arms wind milling for balance. Market Street was busy with crowds of shoppers and Shaun made a beeline toward them. A minute later, he was dodging his way through the throng, elbowing people out of the way. One or two cursed at him, he ignored them and pushed himself free. As soon as he spotted the old shopping arcade, he headed inside, his trainers squeaking on the tiled floor. Since the new shopping centre had opened almost all of the shops in the arcade had closed. The Flamingo Cafe was one of the few survivors. Surrounded by empty units it continued to thrive, offering cheap meals and a warm place to get out of the viscous weather. Shaun moved into the doorway and looked back; he could see shoppers in the distance passing the entrance. Thankfully, there was no sign of his pursuers. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he went into the steamy interior, needing time to think, time to plan. It was obvious he could no longer stay in the town; he had to get as far away as possible. The problem was his stash of cash lay hidden in the flat tucked into a slit on the mattress.

  His heart told him to forget the money but Shaun knew he would get nowhere with empty pockets.

  ‘What can I get you love?’ The woman looked down at him, a pen poised over her order book.

  Shaun shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. ‘Nothing.’

  She looked at him in surprise as he headed for the door.

  He needed to find somewhere to lie low, as soon as it went dark, he could head back to the flat, and, if it looked clear then he could get the money and be on the next train out of town. Flipping up the hood of his sweat-shirt, Shaun headed through the arcade and into the outdoor market. Sour faced traders stood around moaning to one another about the lack of customers, another nail in the coffin of a town that was slowly going down the shitter.

  He weaved his way through the narrow alleyways and back out into the afternoon traffic. Walking past the college, he glared at the students who stood in small groups talking and laughing. A lad of about sixteen walked past a guitar case slung on his shoulders his hair matted into dreadlocks.

  ‘Fucking wanker,’ Shaun spat, the boy looked around in surprise, when he saw the scowl on Millers face, he quickly looked away and skipped up the steps before disappearing inside the building.

  Crossing the road, Shaun headed into the park, his mood growing darker by the minute. The gnarled trees looked beautiful, hoary with frost; snow covered the ground reflecting the bright winter sunlight. Miller took no notice; it might as well have been the surface of the moon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  By the time Lasser arrived at the flat, Rimmer was standing on the balcony his face blotchy red, sweat glistened on his forehead. He was peering out over the blanketed town puffing on a cigarette.

  ‘Any luck?’ Lasser asked.

  ‘Do you think I’d be standing here trying to drag air into my failing lungs if we’d caught the bastard?’ He took a long drag on the cigarette as if it was an asthma inhaler and began to cough. Lasser looked over the edge of the balcony, the flat was on the tenth floor and the view below was a mismatch of car roofs and wheelie bins.

  Rimmer hooked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Miller lives in eighty-five with his girlfriend and young son.’

  Lasser joined his boss and sparked up. In the distance, he could see the massive bulk of the Pennines wreathed in white. Traffic moved slowly below, a flock of seagulls glided past looking for scraps.

  ‘Just as we were pulling up we saw our young friend heading out of the flats and gave chase.’

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t do running?’

  Rimmer grimaced. ‘I don’t know what came over me but for the first six feet I was really going for it, then I thought I was going to pitch a fit in the street. Anyway, Adler and Dawson gave chase but he gave them the slip.’

  ‘Have you found anything in the flat?’

  ‘Oh yes, it appears our man was stealing to order, DVDs, laptops, the usual stuff. Oh, and a pile of clothes in the washing machine that are now on their way to forensics.’

  ‘What about the girlfriend?'

  ‘Why don’t you have a word, I don’t really have a way with the young ones, she looked at me as if I was a cross between Jack the Ripper and Adolf Hitler.’

  Lasser flicked the stump over the edge, watching as it drifted to the ground. ‘No problem.’

  Inside, the flat was relatively clean, though he could smell wet dog and the faintest hint of weed, the girl sitting on the sofa looked to be about nineteen and furious. Her eyes rimmed with last night’s mascara, her hair extensions had worked loose exposing the patchy weave beneath. She wore a sparkly top with a cat motif on the front.

  ‘Hello, love, my name’s Lasser.’

  ‘I’ll bloody kill him, I mean, I told him he wasn’t to keep anything dodgy at the flat.’

  Lasser sat down opposite and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘So it was alright to steal things and keep them somewhere else?’

  She looked at him as if the question was a pointless one. ‘But he promised me.’

  ‘I’m sure he did. Now have y
ou any idea where he was between four and seven last night?’

  ‘Look, I’ve already been through all this...,’

  ‘I realise that but humour me.’

  She sighed and lifted her legs up onto the sofa tucking her feet beneath her. ‘I went out last night...’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Early’

  ‘A night on the tiles, eh?’

  ‘I always go out on a Saturday, my mum has little Danny and I go out with the girls.’

  ‘Shaun doesn’t come with you?’

  She looked at him as if he were mad. ‘I’m not having him tagging along.’

  ‘Don’t want him cramping your style, is that it?’

  ‘Listen, I see enough of him during the week, I don’t want to spend my only night out looking at his Muppet face.’

  Lasser smiled to himself, he had a sudden image of the girl standing at the altar and the vicar asking, ‘Do you take this Muppet to be your lawfully wedded husband.’

  ‘So Shaun was here when you left?’

  She nodded before leaning over to grab her cigarettes from the coffee table, giving Lasser an eyeful of cleavage. ‘Yeah, he was complaining about having a headache, he said he was going to have an early night, try to sleep it off.’

  ‘And when you got home?’

  She sparked up and blew smoke toward the yellowing ceiling. ‘He was still up.’

  ‘Headache gone?’

  ‘Dirty bastard threw up all over the bathroom floor.’

  ‘He’d been drinking?’

  She shrugged and peered at him through a cloud of smoke. ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I went to bed; I told him there was no way I was going to clean it up.

  Lasser eyed the computers in the corner; there were stacks of DVDs and computer games. ‘Tell me, does he sell this stuff around the clubs, or does he have someone who takes it off his hands, no questions asked?’