Dark of Mind

by Robin Roughley

  Angling left, they made their way through the crowd, one or two people glanced at the man whose voice rose in anger.

  'I told you to bring your frigging bank card out with you!' he yelled.

  When Rourke tapped him on the shoulder the man whipped his head around, his spiteful eyes widening in surprise.

  'What's with all the shouting?' Rourke asked as Sally moved to his left to stand beside the distressed woman.

  'Who's shouting?' the man sneered as he turned to face Rourke, his hands slowly closing into fists.

  'You are, now I suggest you move along and if you don't have the funds for a night out then perhaps you should have stayed at home rather than demanding money by menaces.'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'Do you have any cash on you?' Rourke asked.

  'None of your bloody business.'

  'Your own credit card perhaps or funds in the bank to withdraw any money?'

  'How can I have any ''funds'' when there's no jobs in this shithole town?' the thug scoffed.

  'That's a ''no'' then,' Rourke replied.

  'Are you trying to take the piss?' the man shuffled forward slightly, his false-tanned face darkening with anger.

  'Is this young lady your girlfriend?'

  The man hunched his shoulders and rolled his neck like a boxer waiting to hear the bell. 'Yeah, she is.'

  'And I take it she has a job?' Rourke asked casually, fully aware that Sally's right hand was now resting on the canister of CS spray, ready to intervene should the need arise.

  The woman started to cry quietly, her head bowed, her hands grasping the small sparkly clutch bag to her breast.

  'Yeah, she works, but what's that got to do with you?' the man demanded.

  'So, she was paying for your night on the town, or was it coming from your savings?' Sally enquired.

  The man threw her a savage look of disgust. '''Savings'', what bloody savings!?'

  'On your way,' Rourke said, his voice hardening as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  The man glared at him before turning to the woman. 'Come on, we're going back to the flat, then you can get your sodding credit card,' he demanded.

  At last the woman looked up and Rourke sighed, she looked to be no older than nineteen, her face frantic with nervous tension as her boyfriend reached out to grab her arm.

  When she took a hesitant backward step, Sally Wright filled the gap between them. 'I don't think she wants to go with you, now what's your name?'

  'Hang on, I've done sod all wrong and now you're asking for my name?'

  'That's correct.'

  'Well, you can kiss my arse, I…'

  Then the man yelped as Shaun thrust his arm up his back and leaned over his shoulder. 'Threatening a police officer is a serious offence, so you either move away right now, or we take you in and charge you.'

  The man tried to twist around, but Shaun applied more pressure. 'What's it to be?'

  'OK, OK, let me frigging go.'

  Shaun released him, and the man rubbed at his arm, his face twisted in a grimace of pain, his forehead coated with sweat, and then he was striding away up the street, head bowed, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans.

  'Are you OK?' Sally asked the young woman.

  'I'm fine, and thanks for stepping in,' she mumbled, her bag still held tight to her chest.

  'Now, what's his name?' Shaun asked.

  'Mal Marshall.'

  'And you are?'

  'Anna Lee,' she looked at them both with Bambi-like eyes.

  'How long have you two been together, Anna?' Sally enquired.

  The young woman blinked, and more tears spilled free, her eyes bewildered. 'Too long,' she gasped before bursting into tears again.

  3

  Foster listened to the voice on the phone, his eyes alight with fervour, his face speckled with blood from the picked scabs. When his phone had droned, he had thought it was his tortured mind playing tricks on him as he sat huddled in the shop doorway, but when he answered the call the relief had been colossal.

  'Last chance, Benny,' the voice had been brittle with latent anger.

  Now, he stood in the shop doorway describing the fracas between the two police officers and the thug of a man.

  'He's walking right towards me,' he hissed, his voice trembling with tension.

  'Does he look like the ''big I am''?'

  Foster watched as the man drew nearer, his face full of rage, his lips moving angrily, spittle flying; when he spotted the skinny-looking man in the parka and dirty jeans in the shop doorway his face reddened with even more fury.

  'What the fuck are you looking at, you scruffy streak of piss?' the thug snarled.

  Foster felt his guts churn in fear, and then the man barrelled past him and he sighed in shuddering relief.

  'Was he referring to you with those unkind words?' the voice asked from inside his hood.

  'I thought he was going to kill me,' Foster whimpered, hating the weakness in his voice, the sense of fear evident in every word he uttered.

  'Do you have the gun?'

  'It's in my pocket.'

  'Follow him.'

  This time Foster never even considered refusing the simple request.

  Hood up, he shuffled out of the doorway and started to follow the lout, the one who had called him a ''streak of piss''.

  'Retribution time,' the voice demanded.

  'Oh yes,' Foster gasped as all the suppressed hatred bubbled to the surface like the volcanic spots on his sallow face, ready to explode.

  4

  Lasser gave Tess a hug and a kiss on the cheek before clapping a hand onto Spenner's shoulder.

  'Have you two given any thought to setting a date yet?' he asked.

  Spenner blushed with pride, but before he could answer, Bannister went wandering past stopping only to mutter the immortal words.

  'I don't know what the hell she sees in you, Spenner, but well done, you lucky bugger.'

  'Thanks, boss,' Spenner turned but Bannister was already walking away, heading towards the door of the pub.

  'So, are you aiming for some time next year?' Lasser enquired.

  Tess smiled, her auburn-coloured hair cascading down over her bare shoulders. 'Oh no, we have a date fixed.'

  'Already?' Lasser asked in surprise.

  'It's in three weeks' time,' Spenner explained.

  '''Three weeks''?' Lasser echoed, his surprise turning to astonishment.

  'We know how we feel about one another, so we figured there was no point in hanging around,' Spenner replied, his expression one of rapture.

  'Well, good on you both, that's great news.'

  'There is one thing that John wanted to ask you,' Tess said nudging her elbow into Spenner's ribs.

  Lasser frowned slightly as he glanced at them both. 'Don't worry if there's a deep fat fryer on the wedding list then you can put my name at the side of it,' he grinned.

  Spenner's eyes widened slightly and then he shook his head. 'It's nothing to do with the wedding list,' he paused, his cheeks suddenly flushed with nervous tension, 'I wanted to ask if you'll be my best man?'

  Lasser blinked, his face registering shock. '''Best man''?'

  'If you don't mind, we'd both like you to do it,' Tess said with a hint of trepidation in her eyes.

  Wiping the shock from his face, Lasser smiled warmly. 'I'd be honoured.'

  Spenner's cheeks inflated with relief. 'Thank God for that, if you'd refused then the big boss was my plan B and after the speech he gave earlier, I would be having nightmares for the next three weeks wondering what he was going to say at the wedding.'

  Lasser nodded in understanding. 'Do you want me to write a speech or something?'

  'Tess is in charge of all the arrangements,' Spenner said diplomatically.

  'Very wise,' Lasser agreed.

  'I'll ring you during the week and then we can discuss your responsibilities,' Tess explained in a practical no-nonsense voice.

 
Lasser felt the first flutter of apprehension but managed to keep the smile locked in place. 'I look forward to it, now what are you two drinking?'

  Orders taken, he weaved his way through the partygoers and into the pub, Bannister was leaning against the bar waiting to be served.

  'Good speech,' Lasser said as he moved to his side.

  'No, it wasn't, I sounded like a nutter on a soapbox.'

  'Well, you were preaching to the converted, so I wouldn't worry about it,' Lasser offered.

  'Three pints of lager and four white wines,' Bannister said to the harassed barmaid.

  'Spenner's just asked me to be his best man and the wedding is in three weeks.'

  Throwing his head back, Bannister burst out laughing. '''Best man'', I bet that's the first time you've ever been called that!?'

  One or two of the punters looked towards them and Lasser sighed heavily.

  5

  Mal Marshall snarled vicious obscenities as he shoved his way through the crowd, his mind still scorched with fury at the way the two coppers had fucked up his night.

  When he thought of Anna's refusal to come with him the anger escalated to fever pitch. The only reason he entertained her was the fact that she had a job and a bank account and didn't mind spending her money on him. Licking his lips, he felt the need for a drink grow, the problem was he had spent most of his Jobseekers Allowance on a certainty at Haydock races and the horse had fallen at the third fence leaving him boiling with anger at the stupid animal and only a quid in his pocket – and that would buy him sod all.

  'Just you wait, you bitch,' he snarled as the crowd suddenly thinned out and he lengthened his stride, keen to get to the flat then he could grab her credit card and head back into town to get rat-arsed at her expense.

  He would empty her account and then dump her; the thought brought a nasty sneer to his twisted mouth.

  The road began to slope down towards the train station, and he stopped for a moment to glance in the pawnshop window. Prominent was the latest games console, no doubt destined to never return to its rightful child owner. Several others were scattered about, with acoustic guitars, a trumpet, a saxophone and a timpani drum mixed in, no doubt in an effort at a tempting window display. To one side, covered in dust, were the usual fixtures, videos, a teasmade and old mobile phones.

  'Why the fuck would anyone buy that shite?' he grumbled before turning and continuing on his way.

  Reaching the bridge that spanned the main road, he hunched his shoulders slightly and weaved along the pavement to avoid the drizzles of water that always seemed to fall from the underside of the bridge no matter what the weather. When he felt several drops hit the top of his gelled hair his expression turned crab-apple sour.

  'Shit town, shit night,' he grumbled, and then came to a sudden stop and slapped a hand to his creased forehead as he realised that he had no key to get into the flat.

  He stood there in the gloomy darkness, the gleeful thought of taking Anna's card and robbing her blind evaporated, leaving nothing but more anger behind.

  He had two choices, he would have to either go back to his mother's house and listen to her waxing lyrical about the dross on the television or head back into town to track Anna down.

  Neither thought was an appealing one, but in the end the need for a pint and revenge overruled everything else.

  Spinning around, he found his way blocked and he glared at the skinny tramp from the shop doorway, his spot-clotted face encircled by the dirty hood of his parka.

  'Are you following me, gay boy?' Marshall demanded.

  Benny Foster listened intently to the voice on the phone, his skin crawling with a strange mixture of fear and excitement.

  'Now!' the man roared into his brain.

  Lifting his right hand, Foster pointed the green plastic water pistol at Marshall who frowned for a moment and then sneered.

  'What you gonna do with that, you retard?'

  Foster pulled back on the small trigger, as soon as the thin jet of liquid hit his face Mal Marshall was screaming, the agony was instantly unbearable as the clear liquid ate into the soft gelatinous orbs of his eyes, blinding him in seconds as the corrosive liquid seared into his flesh.

  'AGAIN!' the voice screamed.

  Another jet of liquid spurted from the tiny nozzle, dissolving the skin on the back of Marshall's raised hands.

  'RUN!' the voice suddenly demanded.

  Benny Foster did exactly as he was told, his mind singing with joy as he realised the simple beauty that following orders could bring, the sheer exuberance of being told what to do filled him with a genuine sense of purpose.

  The echoed screams of the thug's agony only adding to the sense of euphoria.

  As he ran, any thoughts of ending his own life vanished, from now on with the permission of the master he would concentrate on ending other lives, the type who had made his life a living hell.

  When the yelp of joy blasted from his mouth, he heard laughter floating down the phone, a direct line to his now enraptured brain, as the pitiful screams of the injured man faded to nothing.

  6

  'And you say you questioned the victim ten minutes before he was attacked?' Lasser asked, stepping to one side to avoid the dripping water that fell from above.

  They were standing beneath the bridge, Sally Wright and Shaun Rourke facing him, Odette by his side, her hands in the pockets of her long, cream-coloured jacket.

  'He was down at the bottom of Standishgate having a go at his girlfriend, so we went over and had a word and he went storming off, and then we got news of the attack. We didn't realise it was the same guy until we got here.' Sally explained.

  'Any witnesses?' Odette asked.

  'Nothing so far, it was one of the taxi drivers at the station who heard the screaming and raised the alarm, but he said the victim was alone.'

  'Right, we'll need someone to check on the CCTV, with luck we might get a visual.'

  Lasser glanced at Odette and nodded before pulling out his phone. 'Roger's the guy for that,' he said as he tapped at the screen and moved away, his face clouded over as he remembered being under the same bridge after Spenner had been slashed across the throat by a maniac named Flynn.

  With a sigh he waited for Roger to answer the call, his mind picturing Spenner slumped against the wall, blood seeping from the gash in his neck, it felt like a lifetime ago since the attack and now Spenner was preparing to get married to the woman of his dreams.

  When Roger answered, Lasser quickly filled him in on the details of the attack.

  'I'll head back to the station and get straight on it, boss.'

  'Good man, ' Lasser said as he noticed Suzanne pull up under the bridge.

  Seconds later, Bannister had climbed out of the Range Rover, then Suzanne waved at Lasser before pulling away and driving off onto Market Street.

  Bannister grimaced as drops of water from above landed on his head. 'OK, Sergeant, what's the score?'

  By the time Lasser had explained, the DCI's face was marred with disgust. 'A bloody acid attack?'

  'Looks that way,' Lasser said with a sigh.

  'My God, there are some sick bastards out there,' Bannister spat as he flicked the collar of his jacket up.

  'No witnesses, or at least no one's come forward, Roger's going to check the town centre cameras, see if he can find anything useful.'

  'And Sally thinks it's the same thug they questioned about having a go at his girlfriend?'

  Lasser nodded. 'He was demanding she hand over her credit card so he could get some cash from the machine, but she'd left it at home.'

  'On purpose?' Bannister asked.

  'No idea to be honest, but apparently he was having a real go at her in the street and…'

  'Revenge attack?' Bannister fired out another question that he knew Lasser would be unable to answer.

  'How am I meant to know that?' Lasser retorted with eyebrow raised.

  Bannister sighed as another splodge of water fell onto
the shoulders of his jacket. 'Sorry, Lasser, I'd just ordered my pudding and now we have all this. I mean, just for once it would be nice to finish a meal without having to dash out to another gruesome bloodbath.'

  'What did you choose?'

  'Profiteroles.'

  'I've had those before, they're delicious.'

  'Thanks for rubbing it in, you sadist,' the DCI replied, throwing Lasser a sharp look of annoyance. 'Right, get the address of the victim's girlfriend and then you and Odette go and see her, we need to know more about the guy, see if he had any obvious enemies.'

  Lasser nodded in acknowledgement as Bannister headed over to have a word with Sally Wright.

  Odette was busy talking to Rourke while Lasser fiddled with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, gasping for a smoke.

  Drips of water landed on his head. 'Never rains but it pours,' he mumbled with a grimace. 'Especially in Wigan.'

  7

  When Danny East loomed towards Kelly, his lips puckered, she snapped her head back and grimaced, they were in the back seat of the Panda, Belle driving, Charlie Reeves in the passenger seat.

  East scowled at the look on her face, he wasn't used to having a girl turn down his advances, after all he could have his pick of any girl he wanted. Until now.

  'I had a good time tonight,' Reeves said from the front seat, 'I always thought coppers would be boring as hell, but to be honest they all seemed really sound.'

  'You think police officers don't know how to enjoy themselves?' Belle asked as she changed gear.

  Reeves shrugged. 'No idea really.'

  'That big copper kept giving me the evil eye,' Danny said with a scowl.

  Charlie twisted in his seat and looked at his friend.

  'The one with the short dark hair?'

  'Yeah,' Danny nodded as he tried to slip his hand onto Kelly's breast.

  When she thrust it away, his scowl deepened.

  'He looks like one rough sod,' Charlie said. 'I mean, can you imagine being chased by that caveman,' he smiled and shook his head.

  'His name's Lasser and we both think the world of that man, don't we, Belle?' Kelly said.