Her eyes darkened with fury, and then she went for him, her hands formed into claws, false nails raked at his face again, opening more bloody trails.
Andrew screamed as her index finger plunged into his right eye, Bea snarled and thrust her finger deeper into the socket. Her son lashed out in agony, his fist slammed into her face, blood spouted from her mashed lips. Viner grabbed at her hair and hurled her to the left, her finger slithered from his eye, blood spurted onto his cheek.
Andrew Viner had never felt pain like it, a searing burn was ricocheting around his head stopping all coherent thought, he staggered towards the French doors screaming every step of the way, his damaged eye screwed closed, tears forcing themselves through the fast-swelling socket, his left one blinking as he tried to navigate his way across the kitchen.
At the front door, Bannister lashed out with his right foot, the sole slamming into the timber, the door shook but held as the screaming from inside the house intensified.
He tried again and on the third attempt it banged open, he dashed down the long hallway, the bellow of agony leading the way.
Reaching the kitchen door, he thrust it open, his eyes widening as he saw the woman bring the meat cleaver down onto the head of the man who scrabbled at the handle of the French doors.
Suddenly, the screaming stopped, the keen blade cracked open the back of the skull in a straight line, dissecting the brain beneath.
Bannister carried on running, his heart rearing as she yanked the blade free and spun towards him, blood spraying out in an arc, her face smeared red like some tribal warrior – at odds with her perfectly-coiffured hair.
Then she screamed and raised the blade, the DCI knew exactly what she intended doing and where the blade would end up. Before she could bring it down, he dived forward and thudded into her waist like a prop forward in full flow.
Bea Viner's feet hit her son's slumped body, the cleaver clattered to the marble floor, the air whooshed from her lungs and her head snapped back, hitting one of the squares of glass in the French door, shattering it on impact.
Bannister grunted as she slid down to the floor, falling onto her backside with a heavy thump. Scrabbling back, he looked left and felt the bile rise from the pit of his stomach as he saw the ghastly wound in the man's head, the cleaved brain pulsating, gore saturating the dark hair as his legs thrashed back and forth.
'Fuck me,' Bannister gasped, stumbling to his feet and snatching his phone free.
Before he could tap at the screen it started to ring, he wiped a shaking hand across his lips and thanked God when he saw Lasser's name on the screen.
'Sergeant, where the fuck are you?'
'Over at May Linton's apartment, I've been trying to ring you, but…'
'Never mind that, I need an ambulance, send it to Hopper Grove, number four.'
'Are you OK?'
'I think I've found Andrew Viner.'
'What does the prick have to say?'
'Bugger all, unless I'm mistaken his mother has just used a meat cleaver on his head.'
'What!?'
'Just sort the ambulance and then get your arse over here.'
'I'm on my way.'
Bannister stepped back from the blood and greasy gore, took a shaky breath and tried to look anywhere but at the brains of Andrew Viner slowly seeping inexorably to the floor.
124
Lasser pulled onto the small car park and watched as two swans went gliding by on the darkness of the canal. It felt as if someone had poured sand into his burning eyes, his brain in turmoil as he thought over the last few hours.
After getting the call from Bannister, he had driven across town with the siren wailing and the lights flashing. When he had seen the carnage in the kitchen he had felt the casserole he had eaten earlier that day threaten to make another appearance.
The DCI was kneeling by the side of a woman who lay sprawled on the floor, he had put her into the recovery position, her hair looked strangely stiff, her face stained with dry blood.
'Is that Viner?' Bannister asked.
Lasser had inched around the huge bloodstain on the white marble floor and leaned over the body, the grimace on his face deepening as he recognised Viner, one eye still open, his mouth locked wide in a soundless scream.
'Yeah, it's Andrew Viner,' he replied with a sigh as he straightened up. 'But how did you end up here?'
'I found a phone on Frank Viner's body, he rang his son last night around one-fifteen…'
'You think the father went out to the moors and Andrew killed him?'
Bannister had stood back from the slumped form of the woman. 'Looks like it.'
'And this is the mother's place?'
'Her name's Bea Viner nee Wallace. I couldn't see Andrew going back to his apartment, so I got this address. I figured he would need an ally, let's face it his old man might have been paying the bills, but it was obvious they couldn't stand the sight of one another. When I found out about the mother I came straight over here. I knocked on the door and the next thing I know Viner was screaming his head off. I kicked it down just as she made an arse crack out of his head.'
Lasser had glanced at Bannister and raised an eyebrow.
'Not the best analogy in the world but you have to admit it does have a look of a hairy builder's arse.' Bannister offered.
Lasser had glanced back down at the damage and grunted. 'I suppose it does.'
'The question is why the hell did she go for him with the cleaver?'
Lasser tried to formulate an answer as he ran a hand over the back of his neck in an effort to shift the ache. 'It doesn't make sense.'
'Precisely.'
Then the ambulance had arrived closely followed by Doc Shannon and the SOCO team and the practicalities of securing a crime scene took over.
Hours later they had emerged from the front of the house, the sky lit with early-evening stars.
'What about this May Linton? Bannister had asked as they moved down the side of the house, well away from the prying eyes of the neighbours, who clustered together with phones held up, taking pictures of the front of the property.
Moving close to the sculptured privet hedge, Bannister had lit two cigarettes and handed one over.
By the time Lasser had explained about her passing him as she came down the stairs and what the neighbour had said about May running in the dark – and not along the well-lit streets – Bannister's face was a picture of suspicion.
'You think she could be the one who killed Clark and Bartle?'
Lasser had took a long pull on the cigarette before answering, his breath a mixture of cold air and cigarette smoke. 'We know she was attacked as a teenager, so she has plenty of reason to hate men, but since the attack she's held down a steady job and has no record.'
Bannister had tapped his ash to the floor. 'What about Moss?'
'Well, he'd lost his job and his ex-girlfriend said he blamed May Linton for stitching him up. Though as far as I can gather Moss was a bit of a prick and Linton gathered evidence to prove the point.'
The DCI had blown smoke skyward. 'OK, say this May Linton is the woman we're looking for, and she arranged a meet with Stokes, it still doesn't explain what the hell Moss was doing at the mill.'
'Perhaps he followed her there.'
Bannister had taken another quick pull before pursing his lips. 'To make her pay for losing his well-paid job?'
'I spoke to Gemma Haslam…'
'The ex-girlfriend?'
'Yeah, she was leaving the house when I arrived and according to her Moss was convinced that May Linton was only interested in taking his job. He'd said that would never have happened legitimately, so she made up a load of shit about him and went to her boss and he fired Moss on the spot.'
'But the truth is she made nothing up?'
'According to Gemma, Moss flipped when he found out what had been happening, he lunged across the desk to get at Linton, she filmed it and then showed the managing director.'
Bannister had
flicked the cigarette into the undergrowth before scratching at his chin. 'Is that why the girlfriend gave him the elbow?'
'Yeah.'
'So, within the space of a few hours, Moss lost his job and his girlfriend, plus his reputation would have been shot to shit? Being sacked, no reference, he wouldn't get a job again, or at least one that paid well.'
Lasser picked up on the DCI's thoughts. 'He's fuming and trails her to the mill, if he'd lost the plot then he wouldn't have questioned what she was doing there, he follows her inside and she opens him up.'
Bannister had glanced at his watch. 'How much sleep did you get earlier?'
'About an hour in the bath.'
'You had a bath on the boat?' Bannister had asked in surprise.
'Yeah.'
'What's the score between you two?'
'What do you mean?'
'You like her, right?'
Lasser had felt the heat in his cheeks, and for once he was glad it was dark. 'She's nice.'
'She's more than ''nice'', Lasser, once again you're punching way above your weight and we all know how that normally ends up.'
'Look, she's cooked me a meal…'
'And let you use her bath.'
'What's wrong with that?' Lasser asked, his annoyance starting to build as Bannister tilted his chin slightly.
'Well, it shows a level of intimacy.'
'You sound like a Victorian father.'
Bannister had scowled in the darkness. 'Piss-taker.'
'Look, we're just friends, and…'
'Bollocks, I know you're after more, I can see it all over your mug.'
Lasser had sighed, suddenly feeling too tired for any more verbal sparring.
Bannister had looked at his drawn face before sliding his hands into his pockets. 'OK, I'll keep my nose out.'
Lasser had looked at him in surprise.
'We need to find May Linton and discover what the hell went on here tonight between Viner and his mother, but we both need some proper kip. Get home and get to bed because I feel tomorrow is going to be a bitch.'
Now, Lasser cracked a yawn, the heat seeping out of the vents making his eyes heavy as he tried to stay awake.
Despite his best efforts he fell asleep, his head lolled to one side, his mouth fell open and he started to snore. On the canal the couple of swans went gliding past again.
125
Bannister flopped onto the bed, arms outstretched, hair still wet from the shower, his mouth stretched in a yawn.
When Suzanne walked into the room with a glass of wine in one hand and a whisky in the other, he blinked his bleary eyes.
'I've ordered a takeaway, it should be here in half an hour.'
Bannister pushed himself up the bed and leaned back against the headboard. 'Not sure I'll be awake in half an hour.'
Handing him the drink, she perched on the edge of the bed. 'You need to eat.'
'I'm shagged,' he yawned again.
'Even more reason to eat before you get some sleep, and make sure you turn your phone off.'
'I can't do that,' he said with a frown.
'Well, I'll tell you what, leave it with me and if it's serious then I'll wake you up.'
'But…'
'No arguments, you look totally drained, heading back out tonight isn't an option.'
Bannister watched his wife, her face looked serene, but he could see a warning in her eyes.
'Come on, Sue, I can't do that, I've just left a murder scene, we have Viner killed, the two men who died in the woods, plus…'
'I don't need you list them all, Alan, but remember what you said, you promised you were going to try and take things a little easier.'
Bannister took a sip of the whisky. 'No, I said I would stop all the moaning and groaning and try to control my shitty temper.'
Suzanne smiled. 'You still need to rest though.'
'I am resting. Anyway, I didn't tell you the latest Lasser news, did I?'
'Is that your subtle way of changing the subject?'
Bannister had the good grace to blush but blamed it on the whisky. 'He's sniffing around a woman on a barge.'
Suzanne raised an eyebrow. '''Sniffing around''?'
'You know what I mean, she lives up near Red Rock on a large canal boat, a wide beam,' he finished with a smile.
'Are they together?'
'Well, he had a bath on the boat this morning.'
'That proves nothing.'
'It proves he got his kit off.'
'My God, sometimes you sound like an old fuddy-duddy.'
Bannister frowned. 'Lasser said I sounded like a Victorian father.'
'The cheek of the man!' Suzanne replied.
'Exactly.'
'I'd say you're more Georgian than Victorian.'
Bannister sighed heavily. 'I walked right into that one, didn't I?'
'Have you met this woman?' she asked, placing her drink on the bedside cabinet.
'Briefly.'
'And?'
'Too good for Lasser, but you know what he's like, he gets fixated on a woman and…'
'You can't say that, I've known Lasser for nearly four years now and he was with Medea and then the brief fling with Ruby Ross, so you can hardly accuse him of being a womaniser.'
'I never said he was, but he always sets his sights too high.'
Suzanne searched her husband's face looking for any hint of irony, but he remained propped against the headboard, his face as serious as ever.
'Do you have any idea how good-looking Lasser is?' she asked.
Bannister paused with the glass at his lips. 'What are you talking about, the man's a slob, he has no style, no dress sense, he smokes like a chimney and eats like a hog.'
'And that's what you think, is it?'
Taking a quick sip from the glass, he nodded. 'I don't think, I know,' he replied confidently.
Standing up, she turned and looked down at him. 'Lasser is a good-looking guy – although he doesn't realise it – which only goes to make him more attractive.'
Bannister felt his mouth start to fall open as she smiled.
'You always say he sets his sights too high, but I know for a fact that Medea felt that she was the lucky one.'
'Until she got to know what he was really like,' he said with a sniff.
'No, until she realised how reckless he was, and she couldn't live with the thought that he might end up getting killed. That's why she decided to end it, if Lasser had been in a normal job then she said they would have been together right now, and she would have been thrilled to be with him.'
'She said that?' he asked, his frown deepening.
'She did, and I know the fact that it didn't work out still hurts her.'
'But she's with Fossey now, they have a kid and…'
'Yes, but a guy like Lasser doesn't come along that often and…'
'What are you talking about, he's a bloody liability…'
'With a heart of gold who knows how to treat a woman and make her feel loved.'
'Rubbish!' he spluttered.
Bending, she kissed the top of his wet hair and then grabbed his phone from the table.
'Hang on, Sue, you can't take the phone.'
Slipping it into her jeans pocket, she smiled. 'Get some sleep, I'll answer it if it rings, and if they need you then I'll wake you.'
Bannister looked at her and realised it was pointless pushing the issue.
Draining the glass, he placed it on the cabinet and watched as she paused at the door.
'I'll keep your food warm, but try and get some sleep,' she said clicking off the light.
Bannister watched her close the door, he sat there in the darkness, his eyes open as he thought about what she had said about Lasser.
'I still think you're talking bollocks,' he whispered before disappearing under the duvet.
126
Lasser woke with a start, his mouth bone dry, his head heavy and sluggish with the heat that filled the car, the engine still purring away, the canal i
n front a black ribbon in the moonlight.
'Crap,' he muttered as he pushed the door open, shivering at the cold air that swept into the car.
Grabbing his cigarettes, he climbed out and stretched his aching back before pulling out a cigarette and lighting up, then walked down towards the stone part of the bridge to take a leak, the smoke trailing over his right shoulder.
When he saw the familiar whippet appear at his side, he felt the embarrassment flare up, he darted a look to the right just as Jackie appeared from beneath the bridge.
Spitting out the cigarette, he quickly tided himself up before turning.
'There is a toilet on the boat you know,' she said, her teeth flashing in the gloom.
'I fell asleep in the car.'
'Why?'
Stifling a yawn, he thrust his hands into his pocket. 'I was going to come to the boat but then while I was trying to decide what to do I fell asleep.'
'I told you to come back anytime.'
Lasser glanced up at the black, star-filled sky. 'I know you did, but twice in one day is a lot.'
'I'm just taking Poppet for a walk before I eat, you can keep me company if you like?'
Lasser smiled. 'I'd love to.'
As soon as they started to walk, the dog set off flying along the towpath, Jackie slipped her arm through his and Lasser felt the thrill run through his body.
'I take it you're done for the day?' she asked, her breath billowing out into the darkness.
'You're never done in this job, I hoped that by falling asleep in the car the gods might give me a break for a change. Normally, as soon as my head hits the pillow the phone goes, and I get dragged out of bed.'
'You could always toss the phone into the canal,' she joked.
'And have Bannister banging the door down demanding to know what the hell I was playing at?'
'Would he do that?'
'He's done it in the past, he hammers on the front door and then throws stones at the bedroom window.'
Jackie pulled a head torch from her pocket and clicked it on, the light shining out along the gravel towpath.
'So, he hardly sleeps either?'
Blood Bought Page 37
