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

by Robin Roughley

  Lasser had rubbed at his bruised shoulder, a sour expression on his face, as he thought about Rimmer coming at him with knife in hand.

  ‘I know, Sergeant, the whole thing has been a mess from start to finish but at least Green will be out of the picture and Rimmer will serve some time...’

  ‘What about Plymouth?’

  DCI Bannister sighed. ‘Not a peep, but whoever he was I would imagine he’s long gone by now.’

  Lasser could feel his disbelief growing by the second. ‘But he killed at least four, no five people, we can’t simply forget about the man!’

  Bannister shrugged. ‘Well, if you have any bright ideas I’m happy to listen?’

  ‘But...’

  ‘We managed to find at least two other aliases that he’s used in the past, but apart from that, nothing.’

  When Lasser had left the office he had somehow felt cheated.

  He took another pull on the can then an image flickered in the back of his mind, he grabbed it like a drowning man grabs a lifeline. Plymouth leaning over him, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, someone was on his back cutting of his air, the pressure around his neck growing. Then miraculously the force had vanished, Plymouth had smiled down at him and patted his cheek with his hand.

  ‘It’s a good job I’m here, Sergeant, you owe me one.’

  Then he remembered watching him walk away in his hand stitched leather brogues.

  ‘Fucking great,’ Lasser snarled and skimmed the empty can toward the wastebasket, watching as it missed and clattered to the floor.

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Somehow, she looked younger, as if dying had been a tonic for her complexion. Lasser looked down at the body with narrowed eyes, his hands gripping the edge of the gurney, tight. Molder gave him a cautious look as he washed his hands at the sink.

  ‘She was brought in last night, apparently some man from the shop below her flat noticed a bad smell coming out from under the door and raised the alarm.’

  ‘Overdose?’

  Molder came over drying his hands on a paper towel. ‘Not sure.’

  Lasser looked at him, ‘Meaning?’

  Molder cleared his throat. ‘Well, it was certainly the drugs that killed her, heroin and surprisingly it hadn’t been cut with the usual garbage, though I don’t like the look of these.’

  Reaching down he slid the painfully thin arms from beneath the white sheet. Lasser saw the bruises straight away, dark circles around her wrists. ‘She was tied?’

  ‘I’d say held in a firm grasp, you can see the round marks that the fingertips made.’

  Lasser leaned forward and sighed. Three weeks in a local rehab centre and then released on bail, until a trial date could be set, Suzi Beddows had never stood a chance.

  Barry bounced onto the pavement, cockiness in the way he walked, he was buzzing, fucking buzzing man. Ever since Green had been banged up business had boomed, he still got his gear from the house on Lancaster Road, but now he could have as much as he wanted and he didn’t have to pay up front. Plus the new girl had turned out to be a goldmine; she would fuck anything that moved and the cash! Jesus it was coming out of his ears.

  He crossed the street, Saturday night and the place was heaving. People jostled along the crowded pavement and Barry ignored them all, lost in his own world of plans and schemes.

  With Green safely tucked away for the next few years, he could see a gap in the market that he intended filling. People were crying out for good shit and his reputation was growing, he even had three old mates dealing for him, doing all the legwork while he sat back and reaped the rewards.

  When he reached the old market he cut a left and snaked down the narrow alleyway that would lead him back to the main road. He was on his way to collect cash from a slag who’d been slacking, much the same way Suzi had, whinging and moaning about how he treated her. Yeah well, Suzi wasn’t moaning anymore, he had seen to that personally, he grinned, life was good, no scrub that, life was fucking great!

  He never heard the footsteps behind, didn’t sense the whoosh as the baseball bat sliced through the air, but he felt it slam into the back of his head well enough. Barry pitched forward, it felt as if someone had spat his eyeballs onto the pavement and then stamped on them, beneath his cap he could feel the blood gush from the split in his skull, see the cobbles rushing up to meet him. His face hit the stones, nose exploding in a shower of clots and gristle, lights out.

  THE END

  Thanks for taking the time to read the book and I hope you enjoyed it.

  If you would like to know anything about the author then please feel free to contact me at rob-roughley@live.co.uk

  Once again heartfelt thanks toVal and Odette for all their hard work in sorting the writing out and spending hours going through the text with bloodshot eagle eyes, stars, the pair of them.