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

by Robin Roughley

  ‘You bastard, I’ve had the police around here asking all sorts of questions, they’re saying you were the one who killed Callum Green’s gran, and they also said you murdered fat Sammy! Now...’

  Shaun clicked off the phone, leaning over he vomited into the snow, pieces of last night’s pizza spattered onto his trainers.

  How the fuck had the police found out about the old bitch, he swiped a shaking hand across his mouth and spat out the acrid taste of bile. His body began to shake; knowing Green’s men could be out there, looking for him was yet another terrifying thought. The filth would be out in force and if they caught him, then he was as good as dead, gaol would offer no sanctuary.

  Slumping back onto the bench, he tried to calm his jittering nerves. As far as he could see, he had three options, One, wait until dark and risk going back to the flat to retrieve the cash, Two, ring Kirsty and see if she would be willing to meet up with him. Though from the sound of her voice he didn’t think he would be able to talk her round, she was fiery at the best of times and now with all this... he shook his head and spat again, this time in anger. When she discovered he had been hiding money from her then she might simply pocket the cash and tell him to get fucked.

  The Third option was simply to start walking and get as far away as possible, maybe he could risk breaking into a house, try to get his hands on some cash. Pulling out another cigarette he lit up and grimaced as the smoke burned his raw throat. Finding the right house would take time and then there was no guarantee that there would be cash to be had, and he couldn’t simply take valuables and sell them on in case he drew attention to himself. The whole thing was a complete fucking nightmare; he looked out into the winter world and pulled his thin jacket tight around him. The sky was slowly turning from silver to dark grey as the ghost like sun disappeared behind the gas works. Another half hour and it would be dark, he pressed a couple of buttons on the phone and all the missed calls were deleted. Sliding it back into his pocket he set off walking, his trainers leaving deep imprints in the snow.

  Five minutes later, he exited the park. The late afternoon traffic was crawling along the High Street, horns bleating, cars slipping and sliding as the snow became impacted. Shaun flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and trudged down the road, the shops lit with Christmas lights, shoppers scuttling along, arms laden with bags.

  What sort of Christmas would he have now? He would either spend it banged up waiting for one of Green's men to cut his throat while he slept or crouched in some shop doorway like a worthless tramp. The thought of actually getting his hands on the cash and moving away seemed less likely as the sky darkened. He spotted a community officer pushing his bike through the snow and quickly crossed the road, barging his way into the market hall.

  The place was heaving with people, the butchers stalls crammed as the stallholders shouted out last minute bargains on Christmas turkeys. Elbowing his way through, he emerged into the multitude of outside stalls. The place was deserted, most of the outside stallholders had given up and left for home, the ground was littered with empty boxes and screwed up newspapers. Shaun rattled the loose change in his pocket, entered the newsagents and bought himself a bottle of Coke and twenty cigarettes before heading back onto the High Street.

  A woman in a Salvation Army uniform rattled a collection tin at him and he resisted the urge to snatch it from her hand and do a runner. Back at the flat, he had almost three grand pushed into the mattress, and he had to get to it. Kirsty had a temper but she could fuck off, he had always made sure she had cash in her pocket and the baby wanted for nothing, which was more than a lot of the lads his age provided. The estate was full of single mothers trying to eke out a living on benefits, with fathers who didn’t care that they had no money to buy baby food or pay the gas bill. Shaun grunted; she hadn’t cared where the money came from when she was spending it, the clothes, the seemingly endless supply of designer handbags and shoes that she would use once and then chuck in the wardrobe. Shaun felt his anger flicker back to life, if she hadn’t been so fucking greedy he might not have had to go on the rob as often. His fevered mind weaved her into the saga, another cog in the wheel of blaming someone else clicked into place.

  Storming along the pavement his brain conjured up a long line of people who had led him to this. His useless father, who'd been in and out of the nick for years, leaving his mother to raise a family of five boys on her own, Shaun, had been the youngest and he felt that even his brothers had all played their part in making his life a misery, bullying him into a life of petty crime and deceit.

  When the block of flats reared into view he stopped and looked up to the tenth floor, he could see a pale light shining at the small kitchen window. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time and crossed the road before disappearing, silently into the stairwell.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  By the time Lasser had finished telling Rimmer about Suzi Beddows’ disappearance the windscreen of his car was covered in a thin layer of fresh snow, he watched as the view beyond the glass slowly faded.

  ‘So someone’s onto her?’ Rimmer asked, his voice coming through loud and clear on the speaker.

  ‘Yeah, but whether she’s running from Green or Collins is anyone’s guess.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who it is, Sergeant.’

  Rimmer was right; whoever it was wouldn’t be chasing her to tell her she'd won the lottery. ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Meet me at Green’s house.’

  ‘What about Bannister? I thought he said…’

  ‘I know what he said, but considering no one has seen Barry Collins then the only avenue left open to us is Green.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Besides, it’s not as if we’re actually going to accuse him of anything, we’re simply keeping him up to date with our investigation into the death of his grandmother.’

  Lasser smiled to himself. ‘I’m on my way.’

  The one-way system through town was clogged with early evening traffic, so he decided to cut through the back streets; the only problem with the plan was that the gritters hadn’t touched the side roads and in places, the snow was six inches deep; lights on the dashboard flickered on and off as the heavy car threatened to get bogged down. Lasser rode the clutch, teeth clamped together as he fought his way free of another snowdrift. A Range Rover eased past, the driver shaking his head in condescension, Lasser glared up at him, bastard!

  When he eventually made it back to the main road, he was sweating like a pig; and he recognised the car in front as the same one he'd been stuck behind before deciding to take the detour. Heaving out a sigh as the line of traffic crawled past the hospital. It was strange, but under normal circumstances, you drove along this road and never really took notice of the houses that stood well back, their long gardens offering a barrier between the busy road and the houses. As he inched along, he scrutinised the properties, huge bay windows, set into black and white timber frames. Detached houses with big four-wheel drives parked on long driveways. Money might be hard to come by for some, but it was obvious the occupants of these houses were not feeling the pinch. When he looked to the left, he thought maybe he was going snow blind; Barry Collins was trudging along the snow-covered pavement. Shoulders hunched, a sour look on his thin face and his nose twisted out of shape.

  Lasser checked his mirror and bumped the wheels onto the curb, the driver behind gave a blast on the horn and shook a fist as he eased past. Ignoring him, he flicked on the hazard lights and climbed from the car, the thin wind sliced into him cutting through his clothing. Lasser walked around the front of the car and onto the pavement. Collins was about twenty feet away, hands thrust deep into his pockets.

  The last thing he wanted was to have to chase the scumbag; the pavement beneath his feet was freezing rapidly, the surface treacherous.

  Setting off, he moved over to the right where the snow was deeper but easier to walk on. Collins stopped and fiddled in his pocket, pulling out his cigarette
s, he lit up before setting off again. Lasser quickened his pace; having to lift his feet high to drag them clear of the snow. He tiptoed the last couple of feet before reaching out and grabbing at the sleeve of Collins tracksuit top.

  Barry spun around, a look of panic flaring in his eyes.

  ‘What the fuck you doing? Get off me, man!’

  ‘Less of the 'man' this is Wigan, Barry, not California.’

  ‘Let fucking go!’ Barry tried to snatch his arm away.

  Lasser tightened his grip. ‘Calm down, I just want a quiet word.’

  ‘Yeah well, I’ve got nowt to say to you, pig.’ He pulled and Lasser felt his feet begin to slither across the frozen surface. Twisting away, he heaved back and Barry’s feet shot from under him. Lasser dug his heels into the softer snow and yanked Collins over the uneven ground.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  He glanced over his shoulder, a woman of about thirty had climbed from her car and was glaring at him from the pavement.

  ‘Police business, love.’

  She started to walk toward him. ‘Don’t, ‘love’ me, you’re nothing but a thug, I saw you assault this boy.’

  ‘Please, just get back into your car and...’

  ‘I most certainly will not, I’m going to ring the police and report you for abuse.’

  Collins grunted and tried to clamber to his feet; Lasser dipped his shoulder and yanked him back to his knees.

  ‘Stay there, bozo.’

  ‘Let him go, you’re hurting his arm!’ Her face was livid with anger.

  ‘Look, just keep back; this is none of your concern.’

  ‘Not a chance, this boy has done absolutely nothing wrong and look what you’ve done to his nose!’ She had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

  Jesus, this was the last thing he needed, some bleeding heart with a hatred of the law. He looked at her and she met his eyes with a fierce look of defiance. ‘Listen, lady, if you don’t back off...’

  ‘Oh you’ll beat me up as well, is that what you’re saying?’ She looked around as if she expected a crowd to be standing behind her in solidarity, the traffic continued to crawl up the hill.

  ‘I don’t have time for this,’ he spat, then turned hauling Collins further away from the road.

  When he felt the hand digging into his forearm he thought it was Barry trying to break free.

  ‘You bastard, you’re all the same!’

  Her face ballooned towards him, her left hand shot toward his eyes, claws out. Lasser snapped his head back and looked at the woman in disbelief.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Bastard!’

  She flew at him again and he felt the grip on Collins jacket slip. Barry saw his chance, dug in his heels and yanked his arm free. Lasser ducked under her outstretched arms and tried to grab him but he was already on his feet, he spun away and collided with the woman.

  ‘Get out the fucking way, bitch!’ Barry put his arms on her chest and thrust her back; her mouth formed a perfect O, her eyes suddenly shifted from irritated to bemused. It was as if she had saved a stray dog from a beating only to have it turn and sink its teeth in. Lasser watched as she landed with a thump, a shower of snow spraying up behind her.

  Collins bolted, dodging between the cars and bulleted across the road, narrowly missing being flattened by a gritter travelling on the opposite side. Lasser set off, his feet slithering on the slippery surface, after ten feet, he slipped and clattered to the ground. When he looked up Collins was tearing along the road, it was obvious he had no problem running in the snow, a moment later, he vanished down a side street.

  ‘For fucks sake,’ he hissed and clambered to his feet. Dusting the snow from his trousers, he turned and stalked back towards the woman who was still sitting in the snow, a frown on her face as if she was trying to comprehend what had happened. ‘Get up.’

  ‘I can’t, I think I’ve twisted my ankle.’

  Lasser crouched down by her side, anger pounding in his brain. ‘What did you think you were playing at?’

  She swiped a hand across her face. ‘I wasn’t playing at anything; it was you who was abusing that boy.’

  ‘Yeah well, you can tell me all about it at the station.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You assaulted a police officer, love, and that doesn’t go down too well with the magistrates.’

  ‘Oh, and I suppose attacking a defenceless boy is fine, is it?’

  Lasser leaned in close. ‘That defenceless boy is twenty two years old and has spent almost half of that time in jail, stealing cars and mugging old women for their pension. Now he spends his time dealing drugs to young girls. He grooms them until they don’t know who they are anymore and then to top it all off he gets them to fuck anything that moves just so he can make a few quid.’

  The woman looked at him in shock and tried to shuffle away through the snow, Lasser held her arm, when she spun around the look of anger had been replaced by one of horror.

  ‘And when he’s done with them he gives them a good beating and kicks them out onto the street. That boy is a fucking disgrace and he got away because of you, so when he gets home and takes his anger out on one of his girls I’ll make sure you see what your stupidity has done...’

  ‘I...’

  ‘Think very carefully about what you say next, because if you insist on playing the hero then I’ll make sure you spend your Christmas day pissing in a bucket at the local nick.’

  She looked away and sniffed. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘No, love, your sort never does.’

  He turned away and began to walk toward the car.

  ‘Listen, I’m sorry OK, I shouldn’t have got involved,’ she shouted at his disappearing back.

  Ignoring her, he climbed into the car and radioed through to the station giving them a description of Collins and the direction he was heading.

  Sliding a cigarette free he lit up and tried to smother his anger. Someone had given Collins a deserved smack, then again like Dave the tattooist had said, to people like Barry the occasional black eye was an occupational hazard.

  Starting the car, he checked his mirrors and moved out into the slow moving traffic.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Shaun hovered around the top of the steps, his mind crowded with indecision; gritting his teeth, he edged along the balcony ready to run at the first sign of trouble. Reaching the door, he swallowed and let himself into the flat, pausing in the darkened hallway head cocked listening for the slightest sound. Twenty seconds later, he scurried down the hallway and poked his head into the small living space. The room was tidy, the laptops and DVDs were gone. Shaun grimaced, as if the filth had left their stench behind as they ransacked the flat.

  He spun on his heels; a sudden image of a bent copper sliding the wad of money from the mattress entered his panicked brain. On the way to the bedroom, he collided with the Hoover and thrust it to one side in anger.

  Kirsty was sitting on the bed smoking a cigarette; he hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flicking around the room, heart racing.

  ‘Why haven’t you been answering your phone?’ her voice was little more than a whisper.

  Shaun licked his lips, he needed to get the money and go, the longer he stayed in the flat the greater the chance that either the police or one of Green’s men would return.

  ‘Listen Kirsty, I can’t stay, I need to get away from here...’

  ‘Is it true, did you kill that man?’

  He stepped into the room, hands jittering in fear, Christ he could do with a joint. ‘Look, it’s not what it seems; I’ve been fucking stitched up...’

  ‘So you didn’t kill him, is that what you’re telling me?’ She flicked her ash into the lid of an aerosol can.

  He looked away, unable to hold her gaze. ‘I just need to get away for a few days, until it all calms down.’

  ‘Calms down, the police said you clubbed him to death, this isn’t goin
g to calm down, Shaun. If you didn’t do anything then you need to get down to the station and explain things to them.’

  Shaun took a backward step, shaking his head like a dog with a flee in its ear. ‘No fucking way, you know what the pigs are like, they won’t believe me...’

  ‘We can go together...’

  ‘You’re not listening; I’m going nowhere near the cop shop.’

  She dropped the stump into the lid. ‘So, where have you been all day?’

  ‘I went to the park, I needed time to think,’ he scrubbed a hand across his short hair.

  ‘So, why have you bothered to come back?’

  ‘I just needed to grab a few things,’ he lied. ‘I mean, its freezing out there.’

  Kirsty shrugged. ‘And what about the woman you knocked over, or are you going to deny that as well?’

  ‘What woman?’

  She shook her head and pushed herself up from the bed. ‘You’ve always been a lying bastard haven’t you Shaun? The copper said they found your fingerprints all over some chains stolen from a jewellers in town, the one that was robbed the day Callum Green’s gran was killed.’

  He could feel the walls of the bedroom closing in around him, he tried to think of a reply, but his mind felt stagnant with fear.

  Kirsty brushed past him. ‘You do what you like, but don’t ever think of coming back here’. She headed off into the lounge, as soon as she left the room, Shaun lifted the mattress, holding his breath he slid his hand into the slit and felt the despair lurch in his chest as his hand came out empty. Snatching the duvet from the bed, he flipped the mattress over and slid his arm inside, his hand scrabbling around, yanking out handfuls of dark grey wadding.

  ‘If you’re looking for the money then you can forget it, the police took the lot.’

  He spun around; she was standing in the doorway, looking at him in disgust.

  ‘What!’ The cracks that he’d tried desperately to cover up suddenly became yawning chasms.