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

by Robin Roughley

  Bannister watched him walk from the room and then reached for the phone.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  Barker was taking his time, glad to be out of the town centre, enjoying the drive. He could feel himself relax as the fields opened up around him. In the distance, the huge bulk of the Lancashire Pennines dominated the horizon, a world of white segmented with dark smudges of woodland. The sat-nav informed him that his destination would be coming up on the left in three hundred yards.

  His peace was shattered by the familiar wail of a siren. Seth glanced in the mirror his eyes widening in surprise as three police cars came around the corner and bulleted toward him. Flicking on the indicator, he eased the car over to the left and watched as they flew past, the side of his car patterned by road grit.

  ‘Take the next entrance on the left and you have reached your destination.’

  The small convoy of cars slowed, taillights flashing on and off as then they turned onto the drive that had been hidden by overhanging beech trees.

  Barker checked his mirrors and pulled back onto the narrow strip of road, as he drove past the entrance to the property, he could see nothing apart from the flashing lights from the police vehicles, a kaleidoscope of blue that spiralled between the trees.

  Well it seemed that finding a quiet place to sit and keep an eye on Green’s house was no longer an option. He decided against turning in the road and instead he carried on along the lane, the headlights sliced into the dark, illuminating the stone wall that bordered the side of the road.

  Munroe wouldn’t be happy but Seth was starting to think that Charlie was losing the plot.

  All this ‘Plymouth must die’ shit was becoming an obsession, so what if the man was unorthodox he did the job and kept his nose clean. Still, he had to admit wiping out two people inside Munroe’s own shop was probably not a good career move.

  As he rounded a corner, he spotted the lay-by on the left and swung the car into the opening, the headlights picked up the gleaming shape of a black Mercedes parked tight to the fence.

  Pulling up twenty feet behind, he left the headlights on and smiled to himself, he could imagine a couple rutting in the back suddenly finding themselves bathed in bright light. The woman would be fumbling her way back into her clothes and the man would be cursing as he tried to stuff his stiff member back into his pants.

  In the end he decided to give them a break, leaning forward he flicked off the lights and settled back into the seat. The clock on the dashboard showed eight thirty, setting the alarm on his phone for quarter to ten, he flicked on the heater and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Lasser sat at the kitchen table his fingers exploring the bruise on his forehead.

  What a bloody day, attacked twice by Callum Green, Cathy refusing to speak to him and now this. He could hear muffled groans coming from the cellar as the paramedics tried to get Rimmer to the top of the stairs. They must have given him some kind of sedative because he suddenly heard Rimmer cackle and belch.

  Spenner appeared at the top of the cellar steps his face white, eyes wide with shock.

  ‘Jesus, have you seen what’s been done to the body?’

  ‘Yes, but what the fuck were you doing down there?’

  Spenner suddenly heaved and clamped a hand to his mouth.

  ‘Not there you dirty bastard!’ Lasser bellowed.

  Spenner’s eyes grew even wider and he dashed across the room heading for the back door. Steve Black saw him coming and grabbed the handle, but the door was locked. Spenner skidded to a halt his face frantic chest rising and falling rapidly.

  ‘The sink, Spenner, get to the bloody sink!’

  He nodded and turned then his eyes bulged and his hand shot from his mouth, a moment later hot bile sprayed from his compressed lips.

  Lasser leapt to his feet and pushed back the chair but he couldn’t stop the vomit peppering his boots. ‘Get out, you fucking idiot, this is a crime scene!’

  Spenner looked up, drool hung from his bottom lip, his eyes streaming with tears. ‘Sorry,’ he hiccupped and shuffled toward the hallway.

  ‘Jesus, Spenner, what have you been eating?’ Black wafted a hand under his nose and pushed open the kitchen window.

  The young constable didn’t reply but continued to stagger across the kitchen, one hand rubbing feverishly at his stomach.

  ‘Five minutes, Spenner, and then I want you back in here to clean this bloody mess up.’ Lasser spat.

  Spenner turned, nodded, and almost collided with Doc Molder as he entered the room.

  Lasser tried to lift his right arm above shoulder level and snapped it back down when he felt the twist of pain. ‘Do you carry any painkillers in that little bag of yours, Doc?’

  Molder held it up in front of him; he looked like the Chancellor of the Exchequer brandishing his red bag before he tells the nation to fuck off there is no more money.

  ‘Sorry, Sergeant, why don’t you see one of the paramedics they should be able to give you something.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.

  Molder eyed him from the top of the stairs like some malevolent scientist on his way to his secret laboratory. ‘Do you really think that will help, Sergeant?’

  ‘Why don’t you mind your own sodding business?’

  Molder scowled and clumped his way down to his lair, Black sniggered and Lasser headed for the front door.

  The driveway was lined with assorted police cars; a couple of the drivers had become confused with the snow and were parked on the front garden. Green would be furious if his daffodils failed to come out in the springtime. Sparking up, he drew the smoke deep into his lungs and then spat onto the stone step.

  When he saw Bannister’s black Audi pull onto the drive he thought about dropping the smoke. Instead, he took another pull and watched as his boss stalked towards him.

  ‘Put that out this instant!’

  Lasser sighed and squashed the fag under his boot.

  Bannister looked knackered; his short hair appeared somehow ravaged, as if he had been trying to yank it out at the roots. His normally clean-shaven chin covered with shadow, his eyes weary.

  ‘What are you doing out here, Lasser?’

  ‘I...’

  ‘This is a major crime scene and you’re the officer-in-charge.’

  ‘I was just getting some fresh air.’

  ‘And smoking one of those disgusting things is how you get your fresh air, is that what you’re telling me?’

  Lasser rubbed a hand across his face. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Where’s Rimmer?’

  ‘They should be bringing him out any minute but I doubt whether you’ll get any sense out of him, the paramedics have given him some happy pills.’

  ‘Remind me to grab a handful when they come out.’

  Lasser dragged up a smile, his jaw began to throb from were Green had clubbed him.

  ‘What was he doing here?’

  ‘That’s the question I asked him before he came at me with a kitchen knife.’

  A clattering in the hallway and the paramedics appeared with Rimmer strapped to a stretcher, a neck brace held firmly in place, a wide grin split his fat face.

  Bannister glared down at him as they struggled across the garden, halfway across the lawn one of the men slipped and the stretcher twisted spilling Rimmer face down in the snow.

  ‘Jesus, Colin, watch what you’re doing!’

  Rimmer started to bellow again, the same squeal he’d made, as he lay broken on the stairs.

  Bannister smiled in satisfaction as they grabbed the handles of the stretcher and heaved him into the back of the ambulance.

  ‘So Rimmer’s been working for Green has he?’

  ‘It looks that way.’

  Bannister looked toward the trees and then up at the sky. ‘When we worked in Manchester, I had my suspicions, but he’s always been a slippery bugger.’

  ‘What
I can’t understand is how he ended up working for Green in the first place?’

  ‘You ever heard of Paul Walsh?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Runs certain areas of Manchester and according to sources he was on friendly terms with Green.’

  ‘So when Rimmer got transferred over here, Walsh told Green there was a bent copper who could be useful.’

  Bannister nodded and then blew into his cupped hands. ‘So, Rimmer becomes Green’s bitch.’

  Lasser looked at his boss in surprise.

  Bannister shrugged. ‘Just because I am a DCI, doesn’t mean I’m not down with the kids.’

  Lasser laughed aloud, which considering the day he’d had, was some kind of miracle.

  Banister clapped his hands together, his breath billowing in the freezing air.

  ‘Now, let’s take a look at the body in the cellar.’

  As they walked down the hallway, Bannister poked his head into the lounge. ‘Messy.’

  They made their way into the kitchen and down the steps. ‘It’s a long way to the bottom, Sergeant, you’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.’

  Lasser didn’t bother with a reply he couldn’t see the point.

  The cellar was huge; the stone walls glittered with pinpricks of ice, Lasser could see a wood burning stove in one corner, an oil tank took up the whole of one wall, assorted tea chests of junk littered the floor space.

  Molder was standing in front of the body, as if trying to fathom some great puzzle, half-moon glasses perched on the end of his bird like nose.

  Bannister grimaced as he looked at the damage done.

  ‘So Molder, give us the time of death?’

  ‘Well, I would hazard a guess that he died within the last ten hours.’

  ‘Cause?’

  Molder pointed at a claw hammer on the floor and a pair of bolt cutters, both slick with blood. ‘They used the hammer to smash the kneecaps the ankles and all the toes,’ he pointed and Lasser suddenly felt sick. In the rush to get out of the room, he had only seen the face, which had been bad enough but now the full extent of the damage was laid before him and he didn’t know if his stomach could take it. A small prickle of guilt set up home in his head, it was no wonder Spenner had chucked his guts.

  The knees were a ragged mess; white bone shining through the blood, every toe had been mashed until they were little more than a nasty smear on the stone flags.

  Molder cleared his throat. ‘The bolt cutters were used to remove the fingers and I would imagine they also used them to cut off the genitals’

  Lasser hiccupped and gritted his teeth.

  Banister crouched down and looked at the red maw that had once been a human face.

  ‘What about this?’

  ‘Difficult to say sir, until I get him back to the lab,’ Molder sounded apologetic. Lasser felt like snatching the prick and shaking him until his teeth rattled. Whenever he tried to pin the bastard down it was always no comment. When the truth was, he was keeping his powder dry so he could be the boss's golden boy. Molder saw Lasser glaring at him and quickly turned away, his face burning with embarrassment.

  Bannister thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘I can’t see the point in getting Shaun Miller’s next of kin to try and identify the body.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Lasser replied.

  ‘Right then Molder, I want to know everything about him and I want it by nine in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’

  Bannister grunted in satisfaction and headed back toward the steps.

  Lasser snatched Molder’s sleeve and hissed into his ear. ‘You fucking bastard, Molder, if you ever try and fob me off again I will shit on you from a great height.’

  ‘Do we have a problem, Sergeant?’ Bannister was standing on the bottom step looking over his shoulder at the pair of them.

  Lasser smiled. ‘No, no problem at all.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Seth was floating in the pool, sprawled on his back on a lilo, looking up at the azure sky. He could feel the warm Mediterranean breeze flowing over his skin, a cold beer clasped in his hand, mirrored shades on. Although he couldn’t see her, he knew Bethany would be sat in the shade of the villa, a wide brimmed hat shading her eyes a little red bikini showing off her perfect body. She was fair skinned and didn’t like to sit in direct sunlight, always worried she was going to get cancer.

  Seth couldn’t see the point in fussing, when your time came all the sun block in the world wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference.

  He could hear the rustle of the wind in the palm trees and the tap, tap of...he frowned, the sound was brittle and growing, not the chatter of birds or the reek, reek of crickets in the tall dry grass. It was almost as if... he yawned and tried to turn over on the lilo. His eyes fluttered open and the dream dissipated. For a few seconds he wondered where he was and then reality came crashing down. Stuck in the middle of a freezing winter in this shithole place trying to do Munroe’s dirty work.

  When the tap came again, he snapped his head around and thought he was hallucinating like back in the day when he had a coke habit and he would see all kinds of weird shit. Plymouth grinned in at him through the side window. Barker shot upright, his mind still half-asleep; he blinked rapidly as if he expected this simple action would somehow make the apparition disappear.

  When the side window exploded in a shower of glass nuggets, he found himself suddenly wide-awake.

  ‘I thought it was you!’ Plymouth sounded delighted to see him, as if they had bumped into one another on a city street rather than a lay-by in the middle of nowhere.

  Seth turned and flinched as he leaned in through the broken window, grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head against the steering wheel, one twice, three times, the horn blaring with each impact. Barker tried to lift his hands but Plymouth slapped them down.

  ‘It’s a small world, Seth, I mean, what are the chances?’ He had his arms resting on the door, the almost permanent smile still fixed in place.

  Barker coughed and spat a glob of blood onto the dashboard, his head pulsated with pain, he tried to focus, but his eyes felt as if they belonged to someone else.

  ‘Now what would you be doing here, I thought you had a place on the Algarve?'

  ‘I have...’

  ‘So come on, let’s hear it.’ Plymouth suddenly snatched the door open and dragged Seth out into a pile of frozen snow. ‘I assume you’re here as Munroe’s representative.’

  The sudden shock of being hauled from the warmth of the car set Barker’s teeth chattering, his flesh ravaged by goose bumps. He tried to think of the best way to handle this. Bullshit his way out or tell the truth, when he looked into the narrow face he realised that it would probably make no difference.

  Plymouth’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, it was like looking into a thicket of trees, knowing that someone was there watching you, but you couldn’t tell from which direction the attack would come.

  Well fuck it; if he was going to die then he didn’t see the point in trying to protect Munroe.

  ‘Charlie sent me.’

  ‘Looking for me?’

  Barker nodded.

  ‘Trying to dispense with my services, is he?’

  A gust of wind threw snow from the trees landing on Seth’s skin making him shiver. ‘He wants you dead.’

  Plymouth didn’t appear phased by this sudden revelation. ‘Did he give a reason?’

  Seth wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to concentrate. ‘He thinks you don’t show him enough respect.’

  ‘Enough respect,’ Plymouth repeated, as if the idea was preposterous.

  ‘Pathetic isn’t it?’

  Plymouth shrugged. ‘There’s nothing wrong with respect, Seth. I mean, believe it or not I have a degree of respect for you.’

  Seth smiled sadly; this is where he cuts my throat and leaves me to die. He had hardly any regrets; he’d led a life that had provided him with plenty of cash for mini
mum effort, whilst avoiding the day-to-day grind of a normal job. Unlike his old man who had spent forty years working in a steel mill for next to nothing. His father had once told him that he had never had more than fifty quid in his pocket. Seth couldn’t complain, he just wished it were somewhere warmer, the thought of being left here while the foxes moved in to snatch away chunks of his frozen flesh seemed somehow wrong. ‘Just get it over with, Plymouth.’

  ‘You think I'm going to kill you?’ he sounded perplexed as if he had never even considered the idea. ‘Why would you think something like that?’

  Seth looked at him with a curious expression. ‘Because it’s what you do.’

  Plymouth looked down at the man and shook his head. ‘I am more than the sum of my parts, now who was it who said that?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue,’ Seth could no longer feel his fingers, his lips felt like slivers of frozen meat.

  ‘When is Munroe going to contact you?’

  ‘He isn’t, I said I’d ring him at ten and give him an update.’

  Plymouth checked his watch and smiled. ‘Right on time,’ he took hold of Seth’s arm and yanked him back to his feet. ‘Get back in the car, you don’t want to be late, you know what a temper he has when things don’t go his way.’

  Seth scrambled behind the wheel just relieved to be out of the cold, the passenger door opened and Plymouth slid into the seat.

  ‘Right Seth, I’d imagine you didn’t take this job of your own accord?’

  Barker fumbled with the ignition and flicked the heater on full. ‘I owed him.’

  ‘Of course you did. Now I want you to ring Charlie and tell him that you have me trussed up in the boot of the car, say like a Christmas turkey, that’ll please the fat man,’ Plymouth grinned as if they were playing a practical joke on the schoolyard bully.

  ‘But...’

  ‘No ‘but's,’ he’ll want to arrange a meet, don’t argue with him, and just agree to whatever he says.’