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

by Robin Roughley

  God, he felt like a cigarette but Bannister was still in attendance and with the media vans parked along the edge of the street, he didn’t think it would go down well if he sparked up.

  Doc Molder came out and joined him in front of the shop.

  ‘I must say it makes a refreshing change.’

  Lasser looked at him and frowned. ‘What does?’

  ‘Well, normally by this stage of the proceedings you would have tried to pin me down to time of death, weapon used, and the mental state of the individual who could do something like that.’ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  ‘Would there be any point?’

  Molder smiled, looking like a villain from some silent film; if he had sported a wax moustache then Lasser knew he would be twiddling it between finger and thumb.

  ‘Probably not, but whoever did this is a million miles away from our friend who bludgeoned the pawnbroker to death.’

  ‘See, Molder, you can do it.’

  The doctor narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You just said Weisman was bludgeoned, I call that being decisive, the fact that it’s taken you three days to reach that conclusion is a definite improvement.’

  Molder’s frown turned into a scowl and he turned and marched off towards his waiting car.

  Bannister came out of the shop pulling up the collar of his jacket.

  ‘Right, Sergeant, I think we’ve done all we can here. Let’s go and see what Mr Green can tell us about these latest developments.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  Rimmer didn’t know if Tammy Green was stupid, naive or a strange mixture of both. She had made a pot of coffee and they were sitting in the huge kitchen, beneath the bright halogen lights that were set into the ceiling, Rimmer could feel the heat prickling the top of his scalp through his thinning hair.

  It was bizarre but she hadn’t asked him what he was doing there or how he came to know her brother. Instead, she'd started to talk about her life with Jimmy Butcher and Rimmer had sat and listened, simply because he had no choice in the matter. Occasionally, she would glance toward him as if to confirm that he was still there and she wasn’t merely talking to herself.

  ‘I mean, how could I have been so wrong about him?’

  Rimmer looked at her nonplussed, when really he wanted to grab her and scream that he didn’t give a flying fuck about her life with Butcher, that he didn’t care if he had beat her black and blue. She flicked a sad smile at him and he tried to smile back but his lips felt inflexible.

  ‘Cal tried to tell me what he was like and I didn’t listen,’ she paused, ‘why would I do that?’

  Rimmer shrugged and shook his head.

  She took a sip from her cup and looked around the room as if suddenly wondering how she had got here. ‘Is Cal in trouble with the police?’

  Rimmer opened his mouth, instead of speaking he coughed and then licked his lips.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘My mother said he deals drugs,’ she sounded like a small child asking an embarrassing question.

  Rimmer loosened his tie; despite the size of the room, he suddenly felt stifled. ‘I don’t know anything about any drugs.’

  She lifted her head to look at him. ‘So what are you actually doing here, I mean, you said you’re a police officer...’

  ‘I am, but I’m also a friend of your brother's.’ Rimmer swallowed, Jesus, why wouldn’t she just shut up.

  Tammy blinked as if slowly waking from a long slumber, awareness drifted into her eyes, it was a look that Rimmer did not like one bit.

  ‘Do you know where he’s gone?’ she asked.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t help you.’

  ‘So why did he smash the room up?’

  ‘Look, I haven’t a clue. I mean, why are you asking me?’

  ‘But you just said he was a friend of yours.’

  ‘Well, yes, yes he is, but he asked me to wait here until he got back, you know to keep an eye on you.’ He lied.

  Tammy chewed a fingernail and then pushed her dark hair behind her ears. ‘Do you work for Callum?’

  ‘Jesus, what is this, twenty questions?’

  She frowned at him, her eyes cautious. ‘Cal doesn’t like the police; he doesn’t trust them, so why would he have you as a friend. I mean, it doesn’t make sense,’ she paused, ‘unless you do certain things for him?’

  Rimmer pushed the chair away from the table and shot to his feet. ‘I think it’s best if we stop talking about stuff like this and just wait for Cal to get back, then you can ask him.’

  The little girl lost look had gone from her eyes, replaced by a hardness that Rimmer recognised. Her brother had the same look when he had a problem that was giving him grief.

  ‘Why would you lie to me?’

  ‘Look, lady, just give a break, I’m a friend of Callum’s and that is all you need to know.’

  Tammy pushed the coffee cup away and stood up, resting the palms of her hands on the table top. ‘You’re a liar.’

  Rimmer turned and stormed from the room, when he reached the hallway he suddenly felt disorientated, doors left and right, he hesitated before slamming his way back into the lounge.

  Tammy watched him go and then suddenly set off after him; an urgent need to find out the truth overwhelmed her. Cal hated the police, despised them even and why would he have a copper in the house unless he was bent and working for her brother. Another piece of the jigsaw slotted neatly into place, her mother’s accusations rang around her head, drug dealer, liar, scum.

  She burst into the lounge and stopped dead in her tracks, the copper lay on his back amongst the wreckage of the television, arms outstretched, blood seeping slowly from a cut on his head, turning his sandy hair red.

  The blonde haired man stood above him, the same bright smile fixed on his face that she had seen when he came for Jimmy.

  For some unfathomable reason, she found herself smiling hesitantly back at him.

  ‘I love what you’ve done with the place, Tammy,’ he looked around the demolished room and his smile grew wider. ‘Now why don’t we go somewhere quiet and have a chat?’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  If Lasser didn’t know better he’d have sworn that Callum Green was nothing more than a junkie coming down from a bad trip. He sat in the interview room jittering and shaking, slimy Jack Walker by his side watching his client with a wary eye.

  Bannister sat opposite. Lasser hovered near the door.

  ‘Are you sure it was Tommy?' Green swiped a hand under his nose and sniffed as if he’d just inhaled a mammoth line of coke.

  ‘Well a formal identification will have to take place, but yes, according to Sergeant Lasser here, it is Mr Speel.’ Bannister explained.

  Green glanced over his shoulder, Lasser kept his face impassive; though if looks could kill he would have been writhing on the floor gasping out his last few breaths.

  Green turned back to face the DCI. ‘How did he die?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but at this present time we’re unable to say.’

  ‘Bastards!’

  Walker patted Green’s arm and Callum whipped it away.

  ‘Now we have reason to believe that you might be able to help us identify the man responsible?’ Bannister asked.

  Callum sat up straight, his dark eyes full of disdain. ‘Do you honestly think I’d tell you lot, I mean, are you living in fucking dream world or what?’

  Bannister met his poison gaze. ‘That’s up to you.’

  ‘Yeah well, you can go and fuck yourself; I’ll take care of this in my own way.’

  ‘I hope you’re not considering any kind of reprisal for what happened to your friend?’

  ‘Listen to me Bannister, some cunt has killed my broth...’ Callum’s lips snapped shut; Jack Walker sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘How do you know Craig’s dead?’ Lasser asked.

  Green didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge the question.

  Bann
ister leaned forward until his elbows were resting on the desk. ‘Do you have an answer for the Sergeant?’

  ‘Get fucked.’

  Bannister turned to the solicitor. ‘Perhaps you would explain to your client that cooperating with the police isn’t a crime and it might be mutually beneficial if he tells us what he knows.’

  Slimy Jack, unfolded his arms. ‘Mr Green is well aware of his obligations, however, in this instance I’m afraid he is unable to assist you in your enquires.’

  ‘How did you know Tommy would be at the shop?’ Lasser walked across the room and slid into the vacant chair. ‘I mean, I had a reason to be there, what was yours?’

  Walker looked at Green and then crossed his legs. ‘As you can see my client is deeply traumatised by what happened and considering he’s committed no crime then I would suggest we put an end to this debacle.’

  Lasser shook his head. ‘I’m afraid Mr Green will be spending some time with us.’

  Green sat forward in the chair, a sudden flash of anger flared in his eyes. ‘You can’t keep me here, I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘I am sure the young kid you assaulted would think differently.’

  Jack Walker looked at Green with a raised eyebrow.

  For the first time, Green looked flustered. ‘Look, I hardly touched him...’

  ‘You broke his nose and fractured his eye socket, he’s having surgery as we speak and what did he do to deserve that? All because he thought the sight of a grown man in a fancy suit attacking a pair of metal shutters was funny. Or is it because he didn’t recognise you, didn’t realise he was in the presence of greatness.’

  ‘You...!’

  ‘Now what were you doing at Munroe’s and who told you to go there, was it Plymouth?’ Lasser asked.

  ‘My client is not obliged to answer any of your questions, Sergeant, and any allegations made against him will be strenuously denied.’

  ‘Save your breath, Walker, I was there when he did it, along with about fifty other people.’

  Green laced his shaking fingers together, nostrils flared like a bull about to charge. ‘I don’t know who rang me, I don’t have a name, but he told me Tommy was at the shop and that I had better get there sharpish.’

  Bannister loosened his tie and took a sip of coffee from the plastic cup, grimaced and then dropped it into the small wastebasket. ‘And I take it this isn’t the first time you’d spoken with this man?’

  ‘Look, I...’

  Walker placed his hand on Green’s arm, this time Callum didn’t pull away. ‘What my client is trying to convey is that he was on an errand of mercy, he had been led to believe that his oldest friend was in grave danger.’

  Lasser stifled a yawn; it was like listening to Rumpole of the Old Bailey, waffling on like some Dickensian character.

  ‘Now, given the circumstances and the terrible events that occurred it’s hardly surprising that Mr Green was in a state of high anxiety when he arrived at the premises. You state that he attacked the metal shutters and that you were stopping him from gaining access to the shop.’

  Lasser nodded. ‘Go on, I love a tall tale.’

  Walker frowned, he looked as if he were about to stand up and then changed his mind. ‘Well, is it any wonder, he had raced across town, only to find the entrance barred and when he tried to force his way in you apprehended him, is that correct, Sergeant?’

  Lasser could feel his anger begin to build, he could see the way Walker was going. ‘I tried to get him to calm down, to tell me what was happening, but as I mentioned he became violent...’

  ‘But he was trying to save his friend’s life and you were trying to stop him from doing that. I mean, for all we know, whoever committed this heinous crime could still have been in the building. Thomas Speel could still have been alive while you were doing your duty.’ Somehow the solicitor made it sound as if Lasser had been caught masturbating in a public place.

  ‘That’s bollo...!’

  ‘Sergeant Lasser.’

  He looked at Bannister; his boss had a finger to his lips, his eyes cautious.

  ‘What you say may very well be true, Mr Walker, but when one of my men sees somebody breaking the law then I expect them to act accordingly. Whichever way you try to paint it, Mr Green was involved, not just in a random act of vandalism; he also assaulted a passer-by. Now, I’m all for the general public showing community spirit, but your client will be charged with assault and he will be held until all this is sorted.’

  Green looked at Walker, who sighed and gave an apologetic shrug.

  ‘Sorry, Cal, they’re well within their rights...’

  ‘What about Tommy’s rights?’ Callum spat.

  Walker looked back across the table. ‘We would appreciate it if you could fix a bail hearing as soon as possible, I’m sure once the magistrates hear the facts they will act accordingly.’

  Bannister smiled thinly. ‘I am sure they will.’

  ‘So are you telling me I have to stay in this shithole until a court date is set?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Cal, but it’s the best I can do.’ Walker looked crestfallen as if he would be the one doing time. ‘But, I’ll try and speed things up, a week; maybe two and you’ll be out of here.’

  ‘Two fucking weeks!’ His face began to change colour, like spilled red wine on a white tablecloth.

  Walker swallowed and tried to stand, Green’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Bannister’s finger hovered over the panic button.

  ‘I pay you a fucking fortune and you can’t even sort something like this...’

  ‘But...’

  Lasser leant forward and placed his hands on the edge of the table. ‘Listen, Callum, I was wondering, do you think Tammy could help us out, maybe she knows about Plymouth, after all she was there when he came for her husband?’

  Green snapped his head around, eyes wide with a sudden dawning fear. He had left his sister back at the house, when he’d heard Plymouth’s threat all rational thought had been blasted away. Now he was banged up and the man who had caused him so much grief had the perfect opportunity to make good on his earlier promise. He lunged at Lasser; he was halfway across the desk when Bannister slammed his hand down on the panic button.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  Barker winced and pulled the phone away from his ear, as expected, Munroe was livid, Seth was just glad that he wasn’t having to tell him face to face.

  ‘They pulled two bodies out of the shop about ten minutes ago and the whole town centre is sealed off.’

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ, what is Plymouth trying to do. I told him I wanted this done quietly, no fuss.’

  Seth kept his mouth shut; he didn’t see the point in telling Munroe that when you use a sociopath to do your dirty work, then all bets are off.

  ‘Where is he now?’ Munroe asked.

  Barker brushed a few scone crumbs from his lap. ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  The line went quiet for a few seconds; he could imagine Munroe gripping the phone, his jowls shuddering with rage, red hair standing on end. ‘What do you mean, you haven’t a clue, I gave you the job of taking care of the bastard, and you tell me you don’t know where he is?’

  ‘Look, Charlie, what am I expected to do. The place is crawling with the filth, the media are camped at either end of the street, and if it was Plymouth then he’ll be miles away by now...’

  ‘Don’t give me your excuses; find out where Green lives and see if he turns up there, make some bloody enquiries, you useless wee shite.’

  For the first time in years, Seth heard a hint of the Scottish brogue in Munroe’s voice, testament to how aggravated he felt at this sudden turn of events.

  ‘I’ll see what I can come up with.’

  ‘You’d better, or I might get the impression that you’re not taking things seriously.’

  Barker sighed, if he thought he was going to be back on the farm by nightfall then he was mistaken. ‘Leave it
with me.’

  ‘Ring me at ten and you’d better have some good news, or so help me God...’

  ‘I get the picture.’

  The phone died and Seth looked out of the window, a man dashed past with a camera on his shoulder, followed by a woman, in a sharp two-piece. A moment later, she stood on the curb with the shop in the background and smoothed down her hair. The cameraman held up three fingers then two, one, go. Seth had no idea what she was saying, but her face was solemn, a perfect mask of concern for the invisible audience.

  Pulling out his iPhone, he typed in Green’s Haulage Contractors, a moment later the company address popped onto the screen. At least it was a start; he walked out of the shop and eased his way through the crowd. As he was passed the black Range Rover, he glanced at the number plate and frowned, C GREEN 1. He had never laid eyes on Callum Green but he had seen the coppers dragging the man in the suit from the car and into the back of a meat wagon. So, Green had been the one attacking the metal door and the cops had carted him off, which meant that finding out where he lived was now a pointless exercise.

  Still, he would do as Munroe asked; he would find the house, park up, and get some sleep. At least he would have something to tell the big Scotsman when he rang him at ten.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

  Lasser touched the knot on his jaw and winced, by the time the door had crashed open and five officers had wrestled the struggling Green to the cells, the damage had been done.

  Bannister patted him on the shoulder. ‘Look at it this way, Sergeant; it could have been a lot worse.’

  Lasser nodded a response, running his tongue around his mouth, checking for any loose teeth.

  At least he’d managed to get in a blow of his own, mashing his fist against Green’s mouth, though to be honest the punch had done nothing to slow the big man down. He blew on his grazed knuckles, the adrenalin slowly seeping from his bones, leaving him feeling tired and washed out.

  ‘What do you want me to do, now?’ he asked wearily.

  ‘Well, if you feel up to it I think a ride into the country would be in order. Despite Green’s bravado, he was genuinely scared when you mentioned his sister.’