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

by Robin Roughley

  Lasser grinned. ‘Me, I’m fine,’ he paused and decided to take the plunge. ‘I’ve just been to see Bannister...’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘They’ve let Collins go.’

  ‘I thought they might, I mean, I know you’re convinced that he was the one who attacked me, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure,’ she sounded apologetic as if she’d somehow let him down.

  ‘Hey, it’s no problem.’

  She laughed lightly. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’

  He started to struggle with a sock, his damp foot making the everyday task almost impossible. ‘Come on, Cathy, if you say you didn’t see him clearly then that’s the end of the matter.’

  ‘So, what are you up to now?’

  ‘Trying to get my socks on, I mean, its times like these when I miss you the most.’

  ‘You’re a cheeky sod.’

  ‘So I would imagine your parents are glad to have you home?’

  ‘Mm, my mother just brought me up some homemade tomato soup; they’re treating me like a ten year old.’

  He thought he caught a hint of regret in her voice and seized on it. ‘So when will you be coming back? I mean, all you have to do is give me a bell and I can be there within the hour.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m not tempted, but I’ll give it a few days, I still need to sort out my head. Besides, if I suggested coming straight back they might ground me or lock me in my room.’

  Lasser smiled. ‘OK, no problem, listen I’ve got to get a move on. I’ll ring you later if that’s OK?’

  ‘I look forward to it and take care out there.’

  ‘Will do.’

  He ended the call and struggled into his socks, before grabbing his thickest winter coat from the airing cupboard, the one that restricted his movement but kept out even the fiercest wind.

  The interior of the car was still warm so he flicked the heater down a couple of notches and headed off the estate. For the first time in days, he could see water dripping from the trees as the snow began to melt in the afternoon sun. The traffic heading into town was the usual stop-start affair. He kept glancing down side streets trying to work out if it would be quicker to take a detour, but every street was still thick with snow offering a recipe for disaster.

  When he eventually turned onto Market Street, he looked at Munroe’s shop and sighed, the shutters were down, another wasted journey, spotting a parking space he pulled into the gap. People were jostling in and out of Primark, arms laden with shopping bags, the odd one or two wearing Santa hats in an effort to get into the Christmas spirit. Climbing out, he watched as the traffic warden zeroed in, electronic gadget in hand, something that resembled an ear bud poised over the small screen.

  ‘You can’t park there, it’s for taxis only.’

  Lasser pulled out his warrant card, ‘Police business.’

  The man appeared disappointed as if he’d been looking forward to an argument, a missed opportunity to quote the rules and regulations of the Queens highways.

  ‘Sorry about that, mate,’ Lasser offered.

  The warden glared at him and walked away on the lookout for another unsuspecting mug.

  Crossing the road, Lasser stood in front of the shop and looked blankly at the metal shutters, it wasn’t Wednesday, so the place should have been open. Standing back on the curb, he pulled a pack of mints from his pocket and popped one into his mouth, sucking away the foul taste of too many cigarettes. Unless Caroline Speakman had been held up by the weather, after all Chester was an hour’s drive away, then again perhaps Munroe had decided to shut the place.

  When the black Range Rover hurtled around the corner, his first thought was joy rider, some acne-coated teenager behind the wheel, thinking all his Christmases had come at once. When it slid to a halt in front of the shop, Lasser stepped back in surprise.

  Callum Green climbed from the car his face livid with anger; he ignored the stares from passers-by his eyes fixed on the front of the shop. When he started to hammer on the metal shutter, Lasser snapped out of his stupor, the sight of the big man attacking the grill was so unexpected that for a few moments, he had simply been another pedestrian caught up in the spectacle.

  ‘Green!’

  Callum whipped his head around, his face fixed with an animalistic snarl. ‘Back the fuck off,’ his voice was low, his features seemed to jump and twist as if he were receiving small jolts of electricity.

  Lasser held up both hands. ‘Look, just tell me what’s going on, because you can stand there all day battering the hell out of that thing but you won’t get in.’

  Green narrowed his eyes and then he looked at the metal shutter as if seeing it for the first time. ‘I have to get inside.’

  ‘Why?’

  A group of young teenagers crossed the road and watched with amusement, it was obvious that the big guy in the fancy car and flash suit was off his rocker and it was always more fun when the nutters had more to lose.

  Callum pointed a quivering finger at Lasser. ‘Because my mate has been fucking knifed in there, now are you satisfied?’

  One of the older kids sniggered, a skateboard dangling from one hand the other buried down the front of his baggy jeans.

  Callum snapped his head around, took one long stride forward and before Lasser could move he had the kid by the throat, he yanked him forward and slammed his forehead into the teenager’s nose. Lasser grabbed his arm and twisted, but Callum Green was as strong as he looked, he swung around, his fist whistling towards his face, at the last second Lasser ducked and pulled down hard on the arm. Green grunted, but his legs didn’t buckle like they should have done. Snarling, he threw another punch, this time it caught Lasser high on the shoulder, instantly he could feel the arm go numb.

  ‘Calm down or I’ll have to take you in!’ Even to his own ears the threat sounded preposterous, it was taking all his strength to hold onto the arm and none of the textbook stuff they taught you at Police College worked. Green reached round and grabbed the lapels of his jacket and Lasser felt himself begin to list like a ship caught by a huge wave. At the last second, he released his grip and locked his right hand onto Callum Green’s testicles. It didn’t matter how big you were or how tough you thought you were, when someone has a grip on your tackle then every man is reduced to a wreck. Though to give Green his dues, he held out longer than most and he didn’t squeal, he simply grunted and fell to one knee. His eyes burned up at Lasser with enough hatred to fry the world.

  ‘What friend are we talking about, Callum, would it be Tommy?’

  ‘I know he’s in there and I know he’s fucking dead.’

  Just for an instant, Lasser saw true pain and bewilderment in the man’s eyes and then the emotion was washed away replaced by the usual fury.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Just get in there and then you’ll see what that twat has done.’

  Lasser let go and took a quick backward step, when Green pushed himself to his feet he grimaced and bent over resting his huge hands on his knees. The unfortunate who had laughed, lay on the pavement dead to the world his nose twisted over to the right, his eyes already starting to go black with bruising, his mates were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Who are we talking about?’ Lasser asked.

  Green shook his head. ‘Do you think I’d tell the likes of you?’

  Lasser pulled out his mobile; the crowd of onlookers gawped at the kid on the pavement and then back at the big man, who suddenly spun around. ‘What the fuck are you lot looking at?’ he screamed, spittle flying from his twisted mouth.

  People looked away, some turned, and scuttled off up the street, only the foolish remained. Green looked at each in turn as if storing their faces away for future attention.

  Lasser plugged a finger into his left ear to keep out the racket. ‘I need assistance, Munroe’s jewellers at the bottom of Market Street and send an ambulance and the SOCO team as soon as you can.’ He flipped the phone closed and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
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  When Green began to hobble back towards the car, Lasser moved forward. ‘You’ll have to stay here; I can’t let you go anywhere.’

  ‘Get fucked,’ he spat onto the pavement and grabbed the door handle, as he pulled it open, Lasser slammed it shut with the heel of his boot.

  Callum turned and looked at the man barring his way. ‘If you don’t back off right now, you are dead.’

  Lasser looked into a face contorted with pain and anger, yet the arrogance still shone through, the belief that he could simply get in his car and drive away and no one would dare stop him, was evident in his eyes.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Green, no can do.’

  A look of confusion flickered across his face, as if he couldn’t comprehend that someone would be so stupid. ‘If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll find your family, girlfriend, wife, whoever and wipe the fucking lot of them off the face of the planet.’

  As quick as Lasser’s temper flared it vanished and he dragged up a smile. ‘You know something, Callum, a week ago I would have believed you, but look at you now. Brother missing, Jimmy Butcher snatched from under your nose while your kid sister was in the house and now according to you, the only friend you ever had has been murdered. All things taken into consideration it hasn’t been the best of weeks for you.’

  He watched as Green’s mouth fell open in shock and then snapped closed with a clack, his face puce with rage, if he’d been a cartoon character, steam would have been hissing from his ears in high-pressure jets. He pointed a quivering finger at Lasser’s face. ‘I’ll show you a bad week, you bastard.’

  Lasser took a step forward, the smile still hovering around the corner of his mouth. ‘If Plymouth has his way then you might not be around to carry out that threat, Mr Green.’

  Green’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard me, we know Plymouth took Butcher and we have a fair idea he’s responsible for your brothers disappearance, he’s running rings around you, taking the piss.’ This time it was Lasser’s turn to jab out a finger. ‘That's the trouble with people like you, you can’t comprehend that there are others who are smarter than you and in the end your sort always come unstuck.’

  A transit van came around the corner, lights flashing, and sirens wailing. When they stopped, the rear doors opened and half a dozen officers clambered out, Lasser noticed Spenner among them, looking wired, ready for action.

  Steve Black, hitched his trousers up, and looked uncertainly at Green.

  ‘PC Black, take this man in for questioning.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he reached out hesitantly and took hold of Callum’s arm.

  ‘Get your fucking hands off me,’ he snatched his arm away and two more officers closed in, a couple of second later, Green was staggering away from the car, surrounded by four officers struggling to get him to the back of the van. Lasser noticed that Spenner was keeping the onlookers back, arms outstretched as if to stop anyone from surging forward.

  A paramedic in a Volvo estate pulled up and ran over to the boy who was still sprawled on the snow-slushy pavement. He knelt down and pulled a neck brace from his little bag of tricks.

  Lasser turned and headed back to the front of the shop.

  ‘We’ve got bolt cutters in the front of the van,’ Spenner looked at him sheepishly.

  ‘So go and get them.’

  The young constable nodded and sprinted back to the van, he was back in record time, brandishing the long handled cutters.

  ‘Right, Spenner, let’s see if you can do something useful,’ he pointed at the door. ‘Attack.’ Spenner went at it like a man possessed.

  The sound of distant sirens wavered and then grew in intensity, a moment later, a dark blue Audi pulled up and Lasser saw Bannister climb out, the traffic warden appeared again and pounced. Lasser watched as he plucked at the sleeve of Bannister’s jacket and then pointed at the car.

  Lasser was too far away to hear the exchange but he could hear his boss bawling well enough, the warden backing up, arms held in front of him as if to ward off a blow.

  ‘I’ve done it!’ Spenner was holding the cutters aloft triumphant.

  Lasser took hold of the bottom of the grill and pulled, the shutters slid up and he moved into the doorway the blinds had been drawn over the glass door. ‘You got a ram in the van?’

  ‘On my way.’

  Lasser hammered on the door, as if he expected someone to open it.

  ‘Sergeant,’ Bannister was standing behind him, a dark frown on his face. ‘What have we got?’

  ‘According to Callum Green, Tommy Speel is in here and his days of dealing drugs are well and truly over.’

  ‘Is that Green’s car?’ he hooked a thumb towards the Range Rover.

  ‘Yeah, he turned up and started to attack the metal shutters.’

  Bannister grinned. ‘Lost the plot, has he?’

  ‘Big time.’

  ‘Good.’

  Spenner appeared with the long metal tube in his hands.

  ‘We OK, with this? Lasser asked.

  Bannister held out a hand. ‘Go ahead.’

  They stood back and Spenner swung the ram into the lock, once, twice, and the door crashed inwards. From the doorway, Lasser could see the body sprawled on the floor, surrounded by broken glass, and splintered woodwork. Spenner stepped forward and Lasser placed a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Stay outside, Spenner, and keep everyone well back until SOCO gets here.’

  For a fraction of a second, Spenner couldn’t hide his disappointment then he snapped to attention and moved back onto the pavement.

  Lasser crossed the threshold with Bannister at his shoulder; glass crunched beneath their feet, a small neon light flickered in the demolished cabinet. Bannister knelt down by the side of the body; blood had sprayed from the neck, it was splashed across the floor coating the shards of glass.

  ‘Well it seems as if Green was right.’ Bannister said.

  When Lasser looked over the counter, he felt the reply catch in his throat.

  ‘Jesus.’

  Bannister looked up. ‘What is it?’

  Lasser avoided touching the glass counter and made his way to where Caroline Speakman lay.

  ‘Sergeant?’

  ‘It’s the shop assistant; the bastard’s done her as well.’

  Bannister crossed the room and looked down at the body, her blonde hair pooled onto the floor, the small spotlights reflected in her eyes, giving the impression that they still held a flicker of life. Her shirt was two tone, the top half crisp and white, below the heart the cloth was drenched with blood.

  ‘Speakman?'

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good looking woman.’

  Lasser turned away and headed toward the small door at the rear of the shop, he eased it open and moved into a small space that contained a fridge, kettle, and toaster. Crossing it in three strides he unlocked the outside door, the rear courtyard covered with snow, revealed a jumble of footprints leading to a gate and then out into the alleyway behind the shop.

  Retracing his steps, he found Bannister still looking down at the body.

  ‘And you say Plymouth knew this woman?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I questioned her about him.’

  ‘If he can do this to someone he knew, then I shudder to think what he would do to someone he didn’t like.’

  Lasser didn’t reply, after all, what could you say.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  Seth Barker didn’t like town centres, never had, he preferred the great outdoors, that’s why he had the farm on the Yorkshire moors. His nearest neighbour lived over three miles away and he could go for days without seeing another human being.

  Now as he stood on the edge of the throng, he was beginning to remember why he hated crowded spaces so much. It was the people that lived in these places with their sour faces and worthless lives. Fat women, who dragged their urchins around with them, like unwanted baggage and men who looked as if they had given up
on life.

  He pushed his way through the doors of the coffee house and ordered a latte, when he spotted the stairs, he climbed them and took a seat near the window. Apart from a young couple who were staring at one another, lovingly, over the patterned tablecloth the room was empty. Barker sat down and looked out of the window; it offered a grandstand view of the proceedings. He could see the familiar name stencilled across the front window of the shop; the police had forced the shutters and then the door. He counted a dozen coppers standing on the opposite curb, keeping the onlookers well back.

  Another van pulled up and four white suited individuals climbed from the back, it was impossible to tell if they were male or female. After a brief discussion with a dark haired copper, they disappeared inside.

  Barker took a sip of coffee and eased himself back into the seat, whatever had happened here must have been major to warrant this level of response. A sudden thought popped into his mind, he'd heard a couple in the crowd talking about a dead body in the shop. Perhaps it would turn out to be Plymouth, he immediately dismissed the idea. Plymouth wasn’t the sort of man to get caught out so easily. No, if there was a stiff in the shop then he could almost guarantee that Plymouth, rather than being the victim, was the instigator.

  When the private ambulance with blacked out windows showed up, he drained the cup and decided to order another, he'd see how things unfolded and then break the news to Charlie Munroe. Of course the police could have already contacted him, whichever way you looked at it Munroe would not be happy.

  Five minutes later, he was back at the table, cup in hand and a homemade scone clamped between his capped teeth, still, nobody could say he hadn’t tried.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  Market Street had been sealed off at both ends, barriers placed across the junctions to divert traffic away from the town centre. Rather than diminish, the crowd of onlookers had grown in size, people pushing and jostling to get a better view, like spectators at a May Day march.

  To add to the illusion, the Salvation Army band had set up stall at the front of the Grand Arcade. As he stepped out onto the pavement, Lasser heard the first few faltering notes of Silent Night.