'I didn't touch him; he was just lying there and there was fucking blood everywhere!'
'Michael, I need you to calm down and tell me if you saw anything while you were in the house?'
The boy sniffed and tried to place some weight on his left leg, a second later, he was sprawled on the grass, rubbing at his ankle, a grimace of pain on his face.
Moving forward Lasser crouched down at his side. 'Just try and think, did you see anyone else, either when you were in the house or maybe you saw someone when you were making your way to the property?'
'I didn't see anyone, apart from the coppers who chased me.'
'And you definitely got in through the kitchen window?'
Michael eased his leg straight, wincing with the effort. 'Yeah, at first I thought the house was empty.'
'It must have been a shock finding him like that.'
Michael shuddered at the memory. 'I wanted to kill the bastard, I… I thought he was the one who did Billy, but he wasn't, was he?'
'No, lad, it wasn't him,' he could see Cathy from the corner of his eye standing guard by the side gate.
Michael looked up at the sky. 'When I saw the state of him, I realised I could never do anything like that.' His voice shook with emotion; his eyes seemed unable to focus, as if he were trapped in some terrible loop where the only thing he could see was the headless corpse sprawled on the big, red bed.
'Did you take a knife with you, Michael?'
He nodded in response. 'Yeah, but I dropped it when I saw…' he shook his head, like a dog trying to shake an annoying tick.
Lasser sighed, breaking into the house carrying a knife showed intent and that would be enough to get the lad banged up at least until all this was sorted.
'Think carefully, when you were on your way to the house did you see anyone in the woods, anyone at all?'
'Look, I went to the barn late in the afternoon and when I came out the place was crawling with bikers and I spotted this copper hanging about, so I decided to go before he started asking questions.'
'So, what did you do next?'
He took a deep breath, his cheeks ballooning. 'I waited in the woods until it started to go dark.'
'And you didn't see anyone acting suspiciously?'
Lasser watched as a frown of concentration formed on the boy's face.
'There was a bloke,' he gave a small shrug. 'But he was only walking his dog.'
'What did he look like?'
Michael ran his hands through his hair, his face twisted in the parody of a smile. 'He was a big fucker I know that much, and he was wearing this backpack.'
'Like an Adidas, or Nike?'
Michael shook his head. 'No way, it was the type you see soldiers carrying, you know the kind that can hold a tent and all that shit,' he paused, 'I remember there was something weird about his keys.'
'What do you mean?'
'He had them clipped to the bag,' he paused, 'but they had these two weird ball things hanging off 'em.'
Lasser looked at a sky criss-crossed with vapour trails, perhaps the night's terrors had scrambled the kid's brains.
'They were about the size of a couple of pool balls, but they looked like they were made of cork or something light. I remember they were bouncing as he walked past.'
'So, he didn't see you?'
'Nah, I was hiding in the tall grass, I didn't want anyone seeing me and he strode right past.'
'And he was heading away from the house?'
'Well yeah I suppose so but, I mean, he could have come from anywhere, those woods are full of small paths.'
Lasser thought for a moment. 'When you last saw him, which direction was he heading?'
'He went up the hill towards the canal.'
'Anything else you can remember?'
Michael shrugged. 'Not really.'
'What about his age?'
'I don't know, about forty, something like that, he was wearing black combat pants and a black T-shirt.'
'What about his hair, was it long or short?'
Michael looked at him. 'Longer than yours but his was like a dirty-blonde colour.'
Lasser was beginning to get a picture of the man in his head. 'You said he had a dog with him?'
'Yeah it was a black German Shepherd.'
'Suppose you were lucky the dog didn't sniff you out, it would have looked odd you hiding out like that.'
'No way, that dog stuck to his leg like bloody glue.'
'So, it was well-trained?'
'Fuck me, yeah. I mean, I had a Shepherd when I was a kid and it used to run around like a mad bastard but not this one.'
Lasser pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to Michael, just as Tina tried to push her way into the garden.
'Get out of my way,' she spat at Cathy.
Lasser waved a hand. 'It's OK, Cathy, we're almost done here.'
Tina glared at her as she strode onto the lawn. 'He was with me all night.'
Lasser raised an eyebrow, why was it always the first instinct for people around here to lie through their teeth?
Michael looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. 'It's all right, Tina, I've told him everything.'
She ignored him and carried on. 'It's not right; you should be out there catching this monster, not harassing my boyfriend.'
Michael looked at her in surprise.
'Breaking and entering is still a crime, love.' Lasser said.
'But he only went there because you lot can't do your job.'
It was hard to take insults from a girl when she was wearing slippers with pink kittens' heads sewn on the top and a little Miss Bump T-shirt covering her bump.
'What's going to happen to me?' Michael asked.
'You'll have to go to the station to make a statement.'
'He can't do that; they might think he did it.' Tina said wide eyed.
Lasser ignored her. 'Listen, why don't I take you?'
Tina crouched down behind Michael and laced her hands around his neck. 'No way, as soon as you get him down there, you'll lay into him until he admits to doing it.'
Michael patted her hand. 'Leave it, Tina.'
'But…'
'He's right; I need to get this sorted.'
'But you can't trust them you know what they're like; they say one thing and do another.'
'Look, I'm trying to do him a favour here. I could have brought a van with me and dragged him off kicking and screaming but I didn't. Now, I've already said I believe Michael didn't commit any murder, though he admits he broke into the property and he has to answer for that.'
'Will I get banged up?'
'You'll be held for questioning. House breaking is a criminal offence, but you haven't been in trouble with us for a few years, so that shouldn't be a problem. And if you come with me voluntarily then it's another tick in your favour.'
Michael nodded his head and Tina shredded a fingernail. 'OK.'
'Good lad.'
He struggled to his feet an arm thrown across Tina's shoulders. 'Can I come with you?'
'You're going nowhere, Tina,' her mother was standing by the side gate; arms folded, a scowl spread across her narrow face.
'Give it a rest, Mum, you can't tell me what to do.'
'I can, as long as you live under my roof.'
Tina laughed, a sound full of mocking disbelief. 'It shows how much you take notice; you didn't even know Michael was here, did you?'
Her mother moved to one side as Michael hobbled past. 'Yes well, you're just like your bloody father aren't you, he was always one for his little secrets.'
'Do us a favour, Cathy, bring the car to the front will you.' Lasser asked, handing her the keys, she spun on her heels and hurried down the path to the front gate.
Tina scrubbed a hand through her hair. 'Mum, I'm not in the mood.'
'Oh, her ladyship's not in the mood, well forgive me for breathing!' she turned and stormed into the house.
Michael sighed. 'Are you going to be OK?'
'Don't wor
ry about me, she'll be glued to the telly by now.'
They reached the kerb just as Cathy pulled up; Tina threw her hands around Michael's neck and gave him a kiss on the mouth. 'Let me know as soon as they let you out?'
'I will.'
Lasser opened the back door and Michael struggled his way in.
'Don't worry, love, he'll be fine.' Lasser said, as he climbed into the passenger seat.
Tina looked at him with a frown of disbelief.
Cathy pulled away, Lasser could see Tina in the wing mirror, looking like an orphan standing at the roadside in her fluffy, pink slippers.
86
For the first few seconds Jenna thought she was still asleep in the hospital chair, her back ached, she felt hot and sticky, and her T-shirt was twisted around her body like a tourniquet. When her eyes focused, she saw familiar objects swim into view. She remembered falling asleep on the sofa, had a vague recollection of her mum covering her with a travel rug.
When the facts of the night before came crashing down like a landslide of emotion, Jenna leapt from the sofa and headed to the kitchen on legs that felt as if they belonged to someone else. Her mother looked up and smiled, she was on her hands and knees scrubbing at the parquet flooring, mop bucket at her side, her hands full of bubbles, the cloying smell of bleach filled the room.
'You're awake then?'
Jenna rubbed at her eyes. 'What time is it?'
'Half past seven.'
'It can't be!'
Susan dropped the brush into the bucket and stood up. 'I've already spoken to the hospital; your grandad had a comfortable night.'
Jenna heaved a shuddering sigh of relief. She remembered waking with a terrible certainty that he had died while they had been away, gone forever, while she and her mum had been sipping wine and cherry-picking fond memories of what he meant to both of them.
'When are we going back?'
Susan rinsed her hands under the tap. 'I thought we could go this afternoon, I have a few deliveries to make this morning, but I should be done for two o'clock.'
Jenna would sooner have gone this instant, but she bit her tongue determined to be a help rather than be a hindrance. All the stuff about the farm she was prepared to put on the back burner, at least for a while.
'OK, is there anything you want me to do while you're gone?'
'You can run the Dyson over the living room, if you like?'
'What about Dad, do you want me to take him some sandwiches for his dinner?'
'No!' Susan snapped, a look of fear flitting across her face. 'I mean, he took them with him when he left, and he has a flask, so he'll be fine.'
It took her a few seconds to work out why her mum had looked so shocked, in all the commotion Jenna had forgot that there was still a killer out there.
'I was listening to the radio before you woke up,' Susan slid out a chair from the table and sat down, 'I'm afraid it's more bad news.'
Jenna was confused, at the sudden change of direction. 'What do you mean?'
Susan looked up at the gleaming copper-bottomed pans hanging from rack attached to the ancient oak beams. 'They found Ashley Radfield late last night, he's been murdered.'
Jenna felt the shrug slide from her shoulders, 'Oh no, not again.'
'I'm afraid it's true, love.'
'That must be why Sergeant Lasser left in a hurry.'
Susan shrugged. 'Perhaps.'
'So what else did they say?'
'I don't know, I turned it off.'
Jenna looked at her mother in confusion, 'But why?'
'Because I couldn't stand to listen to it anymore. These last few days it's like we've been living in a nightmare and when I heard what happened, I'd just had enough.'
Jenna could understand where she was coming from it was emotion overload. 'OK, Mum, I won't leave the house.'
'You could come with me if you like?'
'No, it's OK, I'll do the cleaning and then I might send an email to Patrick just to let him know what's happened.'
'That's fine,' she stood up. 'Now, I've got my mobile and it's fully charged…'
'That makes a change.'
'OK, madam, no need for sarcasm.' They both knew they were playing at normality, trying to inject a sense of the familiar, the first step in trying to rebuild their relationship.
Susan dragged her coat from the back of the chair.
'And your dad said he'd call back in a couple of hours.'
Jenna raised an eyebrow, though she kept her lips firmly closed.
'I don't care if you feel I'm being paranoid, I'll just feel better knowing you're OK. '
'It's all right, Mum, I understand. Now would you like me to pack some stuff for Grandad?'
'It's OK, Jen, I sorted it earlier. In fact, it's in a holdall in the living room, remind me to pick it up when I get back.'
'I will.'
'Right, I'm off.'
Jenna watched her drive away, before closing the back door; she turned and eyed the Dyson standing in the corner. Walking straight past it she went through the lounge and headed quickly upstairs to her grandad's room, time for some answers.
87
Fossey rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and rubbed gingerly at the sunburn on his forearm. 'You know Michael's not responsible for his actions.'
Lasser took a gulp from the can of cold lager; they were sitting on the bench in Fossey's garden shaded by the large conifers. Lasser squinted up at the pale-yellow orb, he was sick of this heat, it gave the illusion of making time itself slow down, made it hard to concentrate. He rubbed at his temple, the dull throb of a headache building slowly.
'He still broke the law.'
'Given the circumstances it's hardly surprising.'
'I'm not here to argue over why Michael took it upon himself to break into a house armed with a kitchen knife.'
'Why are you here?'
'The Fotheringays.'
Fossey sighed. 'We've been over this before.'
'I know but bear with me. I need to know if this diary that Ronnie spoke of actually exists.'
Fossey looked perplexed. 'Why would he make up something like that?'
Lasser flicked the ring pull on the can, making little 'tinging' noises. 'Have you any idea why he suddenly decided to come clean about the farm?'
Fossey crossed his legs, moving into shrink mode. 'It's difficult to tell, I mean, perhaps he'd been wanting to say something for years and decided that now was the time to bring it out into the open.'
Lasser drained the can and smiled. 'And that's what you believe is it?' he didn't bother trying to hide his disdain.
'I thought I'd make it clear that I don't for one second think the Fotheringays have anything to do with the murders.'
'I'm not saying they do but we've already established that Ronnie kept one secret for over forty years. Now I want to know what other little nuggets he's been keeping to himself.'
'You mean did he really have a child with Emma Wickham?'
'Bingo!'
Fossey ran a hand across the back of his neck. 'I think he's the only one who can answer that, don't you?'
'Well, did he say anything specific about the woman?'
'Not much, he certainly never said anything about having a relationship with her.'
'But he did refer to her?'
Fossey thought carefully before answering. 'Only in the context of her husband, he mentioned the fact that before he vanished, the Wickhams lived on a canal barge…'
'A barge?'
'Mm.' Fossey flicked a mint to the dog. 'According to Ronnie, families used to moor up on the Leeds and Liverpool canal and come down to the farms looking for work in the summer months, it was something of a local tradition.'
Lasser felt something slipping by, a link he felt he should be able to make yet couldn't.
He listened as Fossey told him about the body of Wickham turning up in the old tin mine, the more Lasser heard the angrier he became. When Fossey had finished, he took a few moments to fath
om it all out.
'And you thought it best to keep all this to yourself?'
'Like I said as far as I'm concerned none of this has any bearing on…'
'You can't make that judgement, it's…'
'Ancient history.'
'Don't give me that…'
'You're making assumptions based on next to nothing. Someone obviously hates, or should I say hated the Radfield family but you've no grounds to link the Fotheringays to any of this. Even if they did come to own the farm by breaking the law, then it still doesn't explain why you're so determined to give them grief?'
'I get paid to make assumptions.'
'But you don't get paid to fabricate evidence.'
Lasser dropped the empty can onto the table before holding up a finger. 'One, Ronnie's old man was bent; I didn't fabricate that did I? Two, Susan heard them arguing about a child that Ronnie was meant to have fathered with this Emma Wickham and three, if it's true then it isn't beyond the realms of possibility that this man would have a bone to pick with Ronnie…'
'But it's the Radfields who've been targeted, not the Fotheringays.'
Lasser grimaced. 'I'm telling you there has to be a link…'
'Come on, Lasser, you don't even know for sure that there was a child. I mean, you can't simply make stuff up just to suit your own,' he paused, 'misguided theories.'
Lasser chewed the inside of his cheek in anger. 'It was Susan who told me about the possibility of a child, I didn't just pluck it out of thin air.'
'Yes, but she said it was just a rumour, you told me she couldn't tell you definitively if it was true or not.'
'OK, so you don't think it's worth checking it out, is that what you're saying?'
Fossey shrugged. 'That's up to you, but if you want my opinion then it seems more likely that the Radfields had dealings with the wrong people…'
'Bollocks! If that was the case then why murder Billy Jones, what the fuck did he have to do with all this?' Lasser knew he was losing the plot, could feel the red mist descending.
Fossey didn't move, he looked at Lasser as if the outburst was confirmation of some serious flaw in his character, the knowing look on Fossey's face only infuriated him more. 'We have people looking into the family background and they've come up with nothing. In fact, the Radfields were skint. They didn't mix with gangsters and drug dealers, they lived in a house that had grass growing out of the gutters and rising damp in the walls and over the years Malcolm had sold off almost all the land, just so he could keep his crystal decanters topped up with malt whisky.'
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