‘They searched the flat and found your stash, they wanted to know how you came by the money; they thought I knew all about it, accused me of being a tealeaf.’ She jabbed an angry finger at his face.
‘For fucks sake!’ he let the mattress fall and sat down, burying his head in his hands. ‘I’m bloody dead.’
‘I’ve packed you a bag,’ he looked at her through interlaced fingers. ‘There’s a hundred quid,’ she tossed the small bundle towards him; it landed on the carpet between his feet.
Reaching down he snatched it up. ‘Kirsty, I...’
‘It’s money I was saving to get you a Christmas present, but you might as well take it.’
Shaun stood up and wiped the back of his hands across his eyes. ‘I...’
‘Just go before the police decide to show up again.’
He headed for the door, when he tried to kiss her she pulled away and shook her head. ‘You are bloody joking, just get out, Shaun, and don’t you ever think of showing your face again. Do you understand?’
He nodded and picked the rucksack up from the floor. She watched as he walked down the narrow hallway, closing the door quietly behind him.
Walking back to the lounge she slumped onto the sofa, before flicking on the television, just in time for the Kardashians.
Grabbing her bag from the floor, she pulled out her cigarettes and lit up. She’d known Shaun since high school and he’d been always been a dickhead, always chatting shit, always acting the big man. Placing the smoke into the ashtray she looked down at the wad of money tucked into the bottom of the bag and smiled. She’d known about the stash for months and had helped herself to the odd twenty. As soon as the police had left, she had gone straight into the bedroom and grabbed the lot. Sitting on the sofa, she counted the bundle, just short of three grand, hardly a fortune though it would pay for a few nights out over Christmas, and then there was this little dress in town that she’d wanted for ages.
She had rung her mother, breaking down in tears as she explained about what had happened. By the time she’d finished, her mum had been begging her to come home. It was far from ideal, but now Shaun was gone she needed a babysitter and why pay for one when her mother was willing to watch the baby for free.
Kirsty closed the bag and smiled, perhaps things would work out after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Suzi spent the day walking aimlessly around the town, going in and out of shops, buying nothing. At lunchtime, she had gone to the bus station and stood looking at the timetables, trying to determine which bus would take her as far away as possible. Trouble was, she had never learned to read and write properly and all the tables and numbers confused her. In the end, she decided a train would be more practical, she would be able to get further away than any bus could take her. So she'd headed back to Market Street and climbed the hill, past the spot where the burger van had been parked. The memory came flooding back, the girl standing behind her. ‘Skanky bitch’ those were the words she’d used. Oh, there had been others, but those two had stuck. She looked down at her clothes, the jeans scuffed at the knees, her trainers grimy and what remained of her fingernails had dirt trapped beneath. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she quickened her pace, suddenly desperate to get out of this town, to get to the station and jump on the first train she could find.
All that had been three hours ago and now the sky darkened, the snow continued to fall, and she was still hovering around outside the station, in the way someone with raging toothache and a fear of the drill would hover outside the dentists. Why couldn’t she just go in and order a ticket to anywhere? The gnawing sensation was starting to crawl its way up from the pit of her stomach again making her feel weak and nauseated. When she saw the security guard heading towards her, she turned and hurried back onto the street.
Pulling her winter coat tight around her, she wandered back into the town centre, her head felt fuzzy and the more she tried to come up with a plan the more confused she became. Climbing up the steps of the church, Suzi made her way to the rear of the building and sat at the base of the cenotaph resting her back against the granite plinth. She yawned, and that one simple action left her feeling drained; pulling the small clear bag from her pocket, she slid out the last of the pills and placed it under her tongue. If she could just rest for a while, then maybe she would be able to think more clearly. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. As the pill began to dissolve, she could feel the cold slip away, a warmth spreading from her neck and down through her arms. Placing the bag on her knees, she drew up her legs and let her head slump forward, dead to the world.
CHAPTER FORTY
‘So do you have any plans?’
Cathy turned in her seat and looked at Spenner. They were parked on a small patch of wasteland sandwiched between the dentist and a shop that had been a florist but was now selling electronic cigarettes. Ten minutes before the end of shift, Cathy was counting down the minutes.
‘Plans for what?’
‘Christmas. I usually go to my brother’s for a couple of days, but his wife’s just had a baby so I thought I’d give it a miss. You know what I mean; and I don’t want to get under their feet.’
‘That's probably a good idea.’
The snow had started to ease a little, though the sky looked as if it had plenty more to throw down.
‘So what about you?’ he asked
‘Well I’m rostered on till Christmas Eve, then I guess it’s feet up and unplug the phone for a couple of days, stuffing my face and watching lousy television.’
Spenner cleared his throat. ‘Well, why don’t we go out for a meal?’
Cathy thought she’d misheard him, but when she turned in her seat, he smiled tentatively at her. ‘You mean you and me?’
‘Well yeah, why not? I mean, I’m at a loose end and you’ve just said you have no real plans.’
Cathy looked out of the side window, unlike Wigan, Hindley town centre was almost deserted. Most of the shops had closed for the day, the only ones open were the takeaways and the bargain booze shop.
‘So what do you say?’
She looked at her colleague and tried to think of a polite way to refuse his offer. ‘I don’t think so, John,’ was the best she could come up with.
Spenner shook his head as if her answer was unacceptable, ‘But why not?’
‘Look, I appreciate the offer, but I just want a quiet Christmas and to be honest I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment...’
‘Jesus, Cathy, I’m talking about a meal I’m not asking you to marry me.’
She felt the blush crawl up from her collar. ‘Well, thanks for the offer but I’m going to have to say no.’
‘Why, what’s the matter with me?’
The frown on his face had morphed into the little dog-lost look, making Cathy feel as if she were in the process of clubbing a baby seal.
‘There’s nothing the matter with you, but we work together and you know what the gossips are like...’
‘But you’re doing nothing, and I’m free...’
‘I just want to chill out and besides all the restaurants in town will be fully booked.’
‘Well, why don’t you come round to mine and I’ll cook us something?’
She looked away; the man trudging along the pavement looked familiar. He paused outside the kebab shop, the flashing neon illuminating his features.
‘That looks like Barry Collins.’
‘I mean, I’m a good cook, I promise I won’t poison you...’
‘Let’s check him out.’
‘But its bloody freezing out there and we’re due off in ten minutes,’ he moaned.
Ignoring him, she opened the door and climbed out. He was right it was cold and although the snow had stopped, a thin wind had started to blow scouring her hands and face. The figure stopped for a moment and lit a cigarette. Cathy moved forward, shivering inside her clothing. She threw a glance over her shoulder, Spenner was still sitting in the car sulking. When she turned
back, the man had started to move again, he stood on the pavement and waited for a bus to rumble past before stepping into the street.
She checked the traffic and followed, a couple of men were standing outside the Georgia Brown public house, pint glasses in hand, full of Christmas spirit. The man cut down the side of the pub and she hurried to the alleyway, she spotted him halfway down urinating against the wall.
‘Excuse me, but you do realise it’s against the law, to...’
The figure looked up, his eyes springing wide in surprise, a couple of seconds later he'd stuffed his member away.
‘Just wait there, sir.’
He spat on the floor, turned and bolted. Cathy looked back toward the car but Spenner was still sitting in the driver’s seat peering at her through the window. She waved her arms and watched as the car door swung open, then she turned and began to give chase.
She could see the figure slipping and sliding his way along the alleyway, one hand brushing the wall for balance. As soon as she tried to accelerate, her feet began to slip beneath her forcing her to slow down and move forward in a shuffling motion, a chase in slow motion. The narrow ginnel acted as a funnel, the wind howled around her, then it began to slope downwards making forward motion even more treacherous. Fifteen feet ahead, the man slammed to the ground in a flurry of white, giving her the opportunity to close the gap. She reached him as he scrambled back to his feet. Cathy snatched the collar of his jacket, her right hand fumbling for the baton at her waist. He whipped his head around, a snarl plastered across his mouth.
‘Get the fuck off me!’ he screamed, the sound of his voice ballooned around the narrow space.
‘Just calm down, I...’
He tried to pull away, his feet slithering for grip. Cathy found herself being pulled forward, then suddenly he lunged towards her and lashed out, she tried to duck as his fist caught the top of her head, sending her down to one knee. Pulling the stick free she lashed out, the thick wood slamming into his thigh. She heard him grunt in pain, then he was raining blows down on her, Cathy tried desperately to cover her head but it only seemed to infuriate him further. When she felt him grab the nightstick, she panicked and tried to thrust him away. Twisting to the side she looked over her shoulder, the entrance to the alleyway seemed to telescope away into the distance.
Where was, Spenner? Her fingers began to slip on the polished wood, she tried to tighten her grip, but he was too strong and ripped the baton from her fingers. Cathy glanced up watching as the figure raised the club above his head.
‘Please, don’t!’ her breath billowed out in a cloud of fear.
When he started the downward swing, she fell to the ground and curled herself into a ball.
The first blow landed on her shoulder slamming into her collarbone, she screamed, her face twisted in the snow the cold slicing into her cheek.
‘Fucking bitch!’ he launched a kick that sunk into her midriff. ‘Stinking, fucking bitch.’
‘Cathy!’ Spenner’s voice sounded a million miles away; she could hear her attacker breathing, ragged short gasps. Her body suddenly bathed in sweat, the chill she had been feeling only seconds before vanished. She twisted her head, she could see Spenner heading toward her his arms wind milling for balance.
‘Don’t!’ he bellowed.
She frowned, Spenner’s face was obscured by shadows, but she heard the fear in his voice well enough. She turned just as the stick hurtled toward her for a second time. Cathy whiplashed her head to the side, the heavy wood slammed into the back of her head. She juddered forward like a piece of rusty machinery, the blood spraying in a wide arc, patterning the snow, the walls seemed to crumble and fall around her as the darkness slammed down.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
‘Don’t make such a fuss, Sergeant.’ Rimmer shook out another hand full of Tic Tacs and began to munch on them loudly.
Lasser had another cigarette on the go, his allowance of ten a day had been vandalised and left in the gutter.
‘A fuss! You did nothing while Bannister was chewing my arse, you fucking sat there and made out like I’d dragged you along to see Green.’
‘Bannister’s no fool, he knows it was my idea and sooner or later he’ll shaft me for it.’
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better, is that what you are telling me?’
Rimmer shrugged, ‘What did you make of Green?’
Lasser glared out of the window, the fields bathed in moonlight, the trees skeletal in the winter chill. He had been unsure of Rimmer, now his mind was made up the man was a tosser, a backstabbing piece of shit.
‘I wouldn’t know, seeing as I was sent outside like a little kid while you lot were probably talking about having me birched.’
‘Oh, boo-hoo!’
Lasser snapped his head around, his anger morphing into fury.
Rimmer glanced at him and grinned. ‘Do you think he seemed stressed?’
‘I’m fucking stressed, I know that much.’
Rimmer ignored him. ‘I mean, I know Green’s had a bad week...’
‘Yeah, I bet the death of his granny is wreaking havoc with his drugs empire and Christmas shopping.’
‘Very droll, Sergeant.’
Lasser lit another smoke, Rimmer grunted his disapproval, yeah well considering the shafting he had received then his boss could go and kiss his arse.
They were parked on the station car park; someone had been out shovelling the snow into large heaps.
‘Right, Sergeant, I’ll see you in the morning.’
Lasser climbed from the car, slammed the door, and walked away to his car without answering. Sitting in his freezer on wheels, his breath billowed out, hit the windscreen, and instantly froze. Teeth clamped together in frustration, he started the engine, flicked the heater onto full and sat shivering in the darkness.
The trip to Green’s mock Tudor monstrosity had been a waste of time, Green had all but told them to fuck off, claiming harassment. His face had been bone white with anger, a glass of whisky clasped in his big hand.
‘You should be out there, trying to find the prick who knocked her down not sitting here giving me grief.’
‘I can understand how you feel, Mr Green, but believe me we are doing...’
‘Don’t give me your shit, I’m not a snot-nosed kid and you two have no fucking right being here.’
When the doorbell rang, Green had smirked at them and headed out of the room, a few seconds later, he had come back in with DCI Bannister in tow.
Lasser had looked toward Rimmer in shock but the fat slob had refused to meet his gaze. Over the next five minutes, he had come close to kicking Rimmer in the bollocks and telling Bannister to stick his job.
The DCI had directed all his anger directly at Lasser, pointing out that Mr Green was a law-abiding citizen who had suffered a terrible loss. Every time he opened his mouth to respond, Bannister would cut him short. Rimmer had remained tight-lipped; Green had sat in the chair as if he were alone in the room.
Lasser frowned and clicked the heater down a notch; under normal circumstances, someone like Green would have found the episode highly amusing. Watching a copper getting a bollocking was always good for a laugh, but he'd spent the entire time glaring down into his glass of whisky, as if his mind was elsewhere. In the end, Bannister had dismissed Lasser like a child sent to the naughty corner, fucking bastard.
When the tap came on the side window, he twisted his head, Meadows peered in at him, his face obscured by a muffler; he reached out and wiped a gloved hand across the glass rubbing away the frost.
Sliding down the window, Lasser grimaced as the wind skittered into the car.
‘What can I do for you, Colin?’
‘Evening, it’s a bit brisk.’
‘It’s bloody freezing and I want to get home.’
‘It’s just that you’ve told me in the past that if anything urgent comes in then I have to let you know straight away, and well, I was just on my way home and I saw you getting
into the car, so...’
Lasser sighed, as Meadows cleared his throat. ‘WPC Harper was attacked an hour ago, and...’
‘What!’
‘She was on patrol in Hindley, and...’
‘How is she?’
‘Not good, sir, she’s been taken to Wigan General with head injuries,’ a gust of wind blew into Meadows face and he turned away with a gasp. Lasser threw the car into reverse and began to back up. ‘Hang on!’
He stopped, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘What now.’
‘According to PC Spenner, they were chasing someone who looked like Barry Collins, you know the man...’
‘I know who he is, Sergeant, now get out of the bloody way.’
Meadows stood back, a sour frown on his face as Lasser headed off the car park, his wheels spinning on the thick ice. He watched him go, the taillights blinking once at the junction. A few of his colleagues rated Lasser as a good copper, they said he was straight talking and fair, as far as he was concerned the man was a prick. Flipping up the collar of his jacket, he headed towards his car.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Plymouth sipped his wine and watched as Craig Green slept on the bed, his face a pale blob on the pillow, the skin appeared waxy as if carved from a slab of lard.
The bedroom was tiny, and apart from the bed and the chair Plymouth occupied, the room was empty. The journey back to the secluded farmhouse had taken him longer than expected, the snow on the country lanes had proved treacherous, and the motorway had been a nightmare, clogged with shoppers heading to Chester for the late night shopping.
Back at the farm, Plymouth had cooked and eaten a steak whilst sitting at the kitchen table, running the conversation with Munroe through his mind. Munroe had been furious, though he had hidden it well. Plymouth took a sip from the wine glass, he would have to be careful, Munroe wasn’t the type of man to let him simply walk away, but he would deal with the problem when it arose. Picking up the bottle, he had headed up the narrow staircase. Craig Green, strapped to the bed groaned and snapped his head to one side, his eyes fluttered open. When he spotted Plymouth sitting opposite he flashed him a look of hatred that rapidly turned to fear as the blond haired man stood up.
The Way That It Falls: DS Lasser series volume 2 (The DS Lasser series.) Page 14