Blood Bought

by Robin Roughley

  Finally, she turned onto the canal towpath and parked up on the left, he drew alongside and glanced at her through the side window.

  She was beaming at him as she pushed the door open and climbed out.

  Unclipping the seatbelt, he followed suit and looked over the roof at her.

  'I thought you'd forgotten I was behind you,' he said, closing the door.

  When she laughed, he found himself smiling again as she pushed the dark hair back from her eyes. 'Don't worry, I can be a bit ditsy at times but even I'm not that bad.'

  'I don't see any coffee shop,' he commented as he looked at the canal.

  'Follow me,' she replied walking down a short strip of grass to the towpath before turning left.

  Seconds later, they walked under the arch of the bridge and Lasser saw a wide-beamed canal boat moored to the bank, it was painted a pale grey, gradually darkening to a sky full of shining stars, the painted moon bathing it all in a silvery ethereal light.

  He opened his mouth to comment on the image and then Jackie stepped onto the open platform at the rear of the boat; and Lasser stopped in surprise.

  'You live on this?'

  'Now who's being the ditsy one,' slipping a key into the door she pulled it open. 'Welcome aboard!'

  Lasser watched as she vanished inside before stepping from the bank to the boat.

  He had to dip his head as he entered and then he stepped down two wooden steps and looked at the interior in amazement.

  The boat was spacious, the walls painted a warm cream colour with hand-painted roses that trailed along the roof for the full sixty feet. The floor was beechwood, a huge sofa on the left was covered with a colourful throw and numerous plumped cushions.

  Shrugging her coat off, Lasser gawped as she turned to him, she was wearing a T-shirt with an image of the old Pinky and Perky pigs on the front.

  'Now, how about that coffee?' she asked, the smile still playing around the corners of her mouth.

  'Er, you don't have any hot chocolate, do you?' he asked.

  'I'm afraid not but I have Horlicks?'

  Lasser thought for a moment before nodding. 'Not had that since I was a kid, but yeah, if it's no problem then I'd love one.'

  'Sit down and I'll get the milk on.'

  Lasser walked to the left and moved a couple of cushions before sitting down.

  'This is a lovely boat,' he said admiringly.

  Lifting a pan from the cupboard she grabbed the milk from the fridge, her tongue poking out slightly as she added it to the pan. 'Glad you like it.'

  'How long have you lived here?'

  Putting the pan on the cooker, she lit the gas. 'I've lived on this boat for the past five years, but I've lived on the water for over ten.'

  'Do you have a permanent mooring here?'

  'Actually, I have one on Slag Lane, you know the new marina?'

  Lasser nodded. 'Yeah, it's nice down there.'

  'This is the first time I've ever had a mooring and to be honest I was there a few weeks and then decided to get back on the water.'

  'Free spirit then?' he asked with a smile.

  'I like to try but we all have to work at some point.'

  'What is it you do?'

  Lifting two cups down from a set of hooks she started to spoon the Horlicks in. 'I paint and make things with fabric.'

  'When you say paint, I take it you don't mean walls and ceilings?'

  She laughed again and once more Lasser felt himself smiling.

  'Actually, I do some work on other narrowboats, you know designing the livery and then I paint them up, but that's a summer-time job really, during the winter months I make clothing and cushions and sell them on the internet.'

  Lasser looked up at the ceiling, the intricate roses were beautiful and only now did he realise that mixed in with the blooms were an assortment of animals, he spotted a fox peeping out through the brambles along with a badger and a collection of colourful butterflies.

  'Did you do that?' he asked, still looking up.

  Turning the gas off, she started to fill the cups with hot milk and once again he noticed the tip of her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated. Satisfied, she placed the pan in the sink and started to stir the drinks.

  'It's a work in progress but yeah I painted it,' she replied, glancing up at her work.

  'Talented lady,' he said as she walked over and handed him the drink.

  'What about you, what do you do?'

  Lasser took a sniff of the drink, the malt scent making his mouth water. 'Well, actually I'm a detective although I'm suspended at the moment.'

  He waited for the usual look of mistrust to flicker in her eyes, over the years he had got used to it, but she continued to smile as she sat down in a small rocking chair, lifting one leg up and tucking it beneath her until she was sitting on her own right foot.

  'How come you're suspended?'

  Lasser's cheeks inflated and then he blew on the hot drink. 'Long story but don't worry it will get sorted.'

  'Fair enough.'

  Lasser glanced at her over the rim of the cup, surprised that she hadn't pushed him on the issue.

  Jackie continued to smile, her brown eyes bright as she sipped her drink.

  'I take it you don't come from these parts originally?' he asked.

  Wrapping her hands around the cup, she shook her head, her hair swaying left and right. 'No, I'm from the Isle of Wight, but I haven't lived there in years.'

  'You swapped an island for Wigan?' he said with a hint of disbelief.

  'I love it around here; the people are very friendly, and the scenery can be lovely. I do some watercolours as well and this place is ideal.'

  'Whenever I try to tell people that Wigan is a nice place they look at me as if I've lost my marbles.'

  'I know what you mean, I have friends from the island and they can't believe it when I tell them where I am. One or two have been to visit and by the time they go back they kind of get why I like it here.'

  Lasser took a gulp from the cup and smiled as the taste rolled back the years, back to when he and Tasha would have a Horlicks before bed.

  'You're a local man though, aren't you?'

  'Yeah, I was born here.'

  'What about family?' she asked before taking another sip of her drink.

  'I have a twin sister but that's about it.'

  'Must be nice to have a twin.'

  Lasser thought for a moment before answering. 'In the past we've had our disagreements, but we get along fine now.'

  'You don't have any kids then?'

  'No kids, I'm afraid the job takes up most of my time. I know Wigan isn't known as a hotbed of crime, but we have more than our fair share.'

  When Jackie reached over and opened a small wooden box on the ornate coffee table and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, Lasser felt his eyes widen slightly in surprise.

  'Do you mind if I smoke?' she asked.

  Lasser whipped his own cigarettes out. 'Last of the pariahs,' he said brandishing the pack.

  Seconds later, they had both lit up and Jackie rose to open a couple of windows before sitting back down, with her right foot once again tucked beneath her.

  Lasser could hear the ducks quacking out on the water, the sound travelling in on the cool air that drifted into the boat.

  'This is a good cup of Horlicks,' he said before taking another gulp.

  'I usually have one at night, it helps me sleep, so if I nod off then don't be offended.'

  Lasser smiled again, feeling the muscles in his jaw aching through lack of use.

  'Where are you headed?' he asked.

  Jackie shrugged as if she had given her destination no thought whatsoever. 'I'll probably stay here for a couple of weeks, I'm doing a commission painting for someone who lives locally so it makes sense to stay in the area. After that I might go back to the marina and moor up for the winter.'

  'Must be nice just to move on whenever you fancy it?'

  'That was the one th
ing I hated about living on the island, you're always trapped and have to rely on the ferries to get anywhere. But you don't have that problem on the mainland and I love that.'

  Tilting the cup, Lasser finished the drink and then found himself stifling a yawn.

  'Looks as if you could do with forty winks,' she said, tapping her ash into a press-down ashtray decorated with hand-painted dog caricatures.

  'Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.'

  'Where were you going when you stopped to help me?' she asked, her dark hair falling away from her face as she tilted her head back.

  Lasser held her gaze for a moment and then cleared his throat as he felt his cheeks starting to heat up again. 'To be honest I was just killing time. I suppose I'm not used to being suspended and time drags.'

  'Well, I was going to walk down to Haigh Hall, they're having an autumn craft fair today, if you fancy coming with me then you're more than welcome?'

  Lasser glanced towards the window, watching as a swan went gliding by, then he turned back to her. 'Are you sure?'

  'Positive,' she replied, standing up and taking the cup from his hand.

  He watched as she walked over to the sink and placed the cups into a grey plastic bowl.

  'Come on, Poppet, time for a walk,' she said, her voice rising slightly.

  When the tan-coloured whippet appeared from what Lasser assumed was the bedroom he almost laughed out loud.

  'Now you're a true Wiganer,' he said as the dog trotted over towards him.

  Jackie Francis watched carefully as Lasser leaned down and offered his hand to the animal.

  Poppet had a sniff of his fingers, her curled-under tail suddenly rising and lashing from side to side as she licked the palm of his hand.

  Slipping her coat on, Jackie slid her dark hair from the collar before plucking the extending lead from a hook on the wall.

  'You ready?' she asked.

  Lasser looked at her as the dog continued to peer up at him, her tail still swinging.

  'Er, yeah, no problem.'

  He waited while she closed the windows then followed her back through the boat and climbed out, pausing as she turned and locked the door before stepping onto the towpath.

  Poppet went dashing along the path, her long legs stretching out.

  They set off walking, the wind still strong and blowing into their faces, when he felt her slip her arm through his, Lasser almost lurched to the side in shocked surprise, but then suddenly he stopped himself.

  She chatted as they walked along side by side; despite the cold wind Lasser's face still burned with the strangest of sensations, one that he couldn't quite put a name to.

  High above, the clouds parted, the sun broke through and for the first time in what felt like an age he felt the warmth settle around his heart, and his lips curled into a smile.

  82

  Scott Moss sat in a car that stank of whisky, his face pale with shock.

  By the time he had plucked up the courage to head home, Gemma had still been up, sat on the sofa, her face like stone, her eyes narrowed.

  If Moss had been hoping for a chance to explain, then he had been sadly mistaken.

  'Is it true?' she'd asked.

  He had tried to find the denial, but the truth was he felt struck dumb.

  'Nothing to say?'

  He had remained in the doorway to the lounge, when he spotted the suitcase to the left he had felt the fear rising on a tide of bile. Swallowing hard, he had tried to look her in the eye.

  'Look, Gem, I…'

  'Mark Jones called round earlier to see if you were all right, when I asked him what he meant he told me all about you going crazy and attacking a woman at work.'

  Moss ran a hand across his short-cropped hair, inwardly cursing Jones and his big mouth. 'I didn't attack her, things just got out of hand, but you don't know what that woman is like, she'd been spying on me and when I pulled her up about it she went straight to Alec and…'

  'He sacked you on the spot, didn't he?'

  'Honest, Gem, this bitch has been after my job – I realise that now – and I'll make sure Alec knows the score and then he'll have to give me my job back.'

  When she had stood up, Moss had taken a backward step, her blue eyes had lost their familiar warmth, replaced by a look of disgust.

  '''This bitch''?'

  Moss had opened his mouth in an effort to defend himself and then she had snapped a hand up, his mouth had closed, his teeth locked together in desperation.

  Walking across the room, she had grabbed the handle of her suitcase before brushing past him, the small wheels rolling over the laminate flooring.

  She hadn't slammed the door, instead it had closed with a click of finality that had echoed through his stunned brain.

  The next few hours had gone by in a drunken blur of anger and self-pity, at one point he had even cried, the tears rolling down his cheeks, his bottom lip quivering as the whisky took hold.

  In the end, he had fallen asleep on the sofa, the empty bottle falling to the floor with a thud as he sank into a drunken stupor.

  He had woken to a bone-dry mouth, his head banging, his mind full of the idea of making May Linton pay for the things she had done.

  Now, he sat in the car and looked at the towering old mill that had been converted into apartments, his bleary eyes dark with anger, his mouth twisted into a snarl.

  'Whore,' he hissed as the sun poured through a narrow opening in the cloud-filled sky.

  83

  Bannister was at the drinks machine, after spending time going over the facts he felt none the wiser. Seeing Carole Henson drive in through the station gates he frowned in surprise, wondering why she was in at the weekend. Rummaging more change from his pocket he dropped it into the slot, knowing she liked her caffeine fix in the mornings before facing the inevitable mountain of emails and paperwork.

  Tapping at the numbers he waited for the plastic cup to drop into the slot, once it was full he went through the same procedure and then held the cup up to the window as Carole walked towards the entrance.

  When she saw him, she raised a hand in greeting then vanished from sight and walked into the canteen half a minute later, her hair mussed from the wind, unfastening her coat.

  'You're meant to be off duty,' she said as he handed her the drink.

  'Yeah, well, I'd nothing planned so I thought I come in and try to get to grips with all this shite.'

  'Any luck?'

  Bannister sighed. 'To be honest, no. I mean, we have the Fellows brothers for the murder of Randal Archer, but Viner has an airtight alibi.'

  'The girlfriend could be lying to cover up for him,' Carole interrupted.

  Bannister thought about what she was saying and then he sighed heavily. 'I can't see it, everything that Viner told us about the night he was with her she verified. In fact, he was vague about the movies they watched, he said he was half asleep and she backed that up and said she spent at least a couple of hours talking to a girlfriend on the phone and Viner was fast asleep in bed.'

  'Did you check on this so-called girlfriend?'

  Bannister nodded. 'Yeah, Cheryl Hucknall is telling the truth, the phone's been checked, and she was talking for at least two hours.'

  Carole took a drink from the cup, her eyes thoughtful. 'What about Clark and Bartle?'

  Bannister shrugged. 'You know what it's like, we're stretched thin at the best of times, now Odette's in the Lakes and Lasser's still… well…'

  'Suspended,' she finished for him.

  The DCI looked at his boss, he could see the concern in her eyes as she looked at him and smiled.

  'Look, Alan, why don't I give you a hand, perhaps we can come up with something between us?'

  'What do you want to concentrate on?'

  Carole thought for a moment before answering, the cup of coffee steaming in her right hand.

  'We start with Clark and Bartle because I get the feeling that whoever killed them could be out there looking for their ne
xt victim.'

  'And the killer of Minnie Burrows isn't?' he asked in a quiet voice.

  Carole sighed heavily. 'We have to start somewhere but if we come up blank then I'll contact Lasser and get him back on the job.'

  Bannister felt the relief flood through his mind. 'I know he can be a pain in the arse, but he always seems to find a new angle and in the past his hunches have paid off.'

  'Agreed, so let's get to work.'

  He waited for her to drink her coffee and drop the cup into the bin before following her out of the room, a sudden sense of urgency flitting around his brain.

  84

  The stalls had been set up all around the huge sandstone hall, the wind snapping the canopies back and forth, the sellers wrapped up ready for hours standing in one spot as the wind blew up from the golf course to batter them.

  Most sported hats with bobbles on and fingerless gloves complete with heavy woollen scarves.

  Jackie kept her arm through Lasser's as she glanced at a stall selling bespoke jewellery before moving to the next. Poppet standing calm by her side.

  They hadn't stopped talking all along the towpath and they were still chatting away as they took the path that led through the ancient woodland to the hall.

  Now, they fell into an easy silence as they perused the goods for sale.

  After twenty minutes they had seen them all and battled through the fellow shoppers until they reached the tarmac path.

  'Do you fancy a brew?' he asked.

  'Love one,' she replied, they set off walking again, the dog sniffing at the undergrowth as the extending lead stretched out.

  'Have you always been a police officer?'

  Lasser could feel her hip bumping into his as they walked. 'Well, I had a paper round when I was a kid, but I guess that doesn't count.'