Blood Bought

by Robin Roughley

  After the beep he hung up and drove down the winding road to the roundabout before turning left, then he pulled up and grabbed the phone again. This time he called Roger and lit the first cigarette of the day as he waited for him to answer.

  'Morning, Rog. I'm just ringing for an update on the Linton case.'

  'Oh right.'

  'Did you go through the list of names?'

  'I did.'

  'Anything useful?'

  'Well, the seven who were initially questioned were all released without charge. Three of them went on to be pulled in for low-level crimes.'

  'Low-level in what way?' Lasser asked as a couple of cars went zipping past.

  'Two were cautioned for violent conduct, it says here that they were caught up in a fight on the High Street about six years ago.'

  'They knew one another?'

  'Well, it doesn't state whether they did but I guess they must have.'

  'Do we know why they were questioned over the attack on May Linton?'

  'Not a clue, but DNA samples were taken from all seven men and there was no match with the traces found after the attack.'

  Lasser sighed, an ASDA truck went by, buffeting the car. 'What about the third guy with a record?'

  'Hang on, I'll take a look.'

  Lasser listened to the sound of computer keys tapping as he stifled a yawn.

  He looked at the trees climbing up the steep hillside leading to the canal at the top. He briefly wondered what Jackie was doing. Rolling his head on his shoulders he marvelled at how the tension had vanished, he had no idea when he had last felt so relaxed, so calm.

  'Ah, here we are, he was pulled for drunk driving twice, the second time he attempted to drive away and was caught and banned for two years.'

  'Name?'

  'Barry Dyer.'

  '''Dyer''?' Lasser repeated as he pictured the man on the floor of the Royal Oak after he had cracked his elbow back into his face.

  'Yeah, truth be told he sounds like a bit of an idiot.'

  'Does it say why he was pulled in over the Linton attack?'

  'I remember reading about this yesterday. The first time he was pulled for drink driving he was heading past the park about half an hour after the attack, he had a back light out and the arresting officer could smell alcohol on his breath. With him being close to the park they asked him where he had been, and he told the officer he had been at the gym and stopped for a quick drink on the way home.'

  'Does it say if his alibi was checked?' Lasser asked, his brain starting to motor.

  'It was, and he was telling the truth.'

  'Do we have the name of the gym?'

  'Thorpe's, it's over in…'

  'Right, Rog, can you get me Dyer's address?'

  'Give me a sec.'

  The phone fell silent apart from the tapping, Lasser pictured Roger, his fingers flying over the keys like a concert pianist in full flow.

  'Delland Rise, apartment number twenty.'

  'That's over Beech Hill way, isn't it?'

  'You got it.'

  'Right, thanks, Rog, I owe you one.'

  'No problem.'

  Seconds later, he checked his mirror, pulling away from the kerb, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed as his mind started to wake up at last.

  133

  Bannister stood with Carole by his side, his face brimming with anger, and watched Stokes walk from the station.

  'I know it's not to your liking, Alan, but we have nothing on the man.'

  The DCI sighed and nodded. 'I just don't like the bugger. He arranged to meet this mystery woman, to chase her and have sex with her, and there's something just plain wrong about that.'

  'But he broke no law. It's obvious the woman turned up of her own free will.'

  'Yeah, well, Stokes was a lucky bastard, if Moss hadn't followed her to the mill then Stokes could have been the one with his guts on the floor.'

  'The question is whether May Linton is involved in any of the killings?'

  Bannister watched as Stokes vanished through the station gates.

  Carole sighed. 'We need to find her, and quick,' she said. 'I sent Shaun Rourke round to her mother's earlier and she said she saw her daughter a couple of nights ago, apparently May would call regularly and normally she would run to her mother's house, after they'd had a brew and a catch-up the mother would drive her home.'

  'Did she know anything about the argument May had with Moss at work?'

  'Nothing.' Carole slid a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 'I'm not sure I buy her as the killer. I know she has more reason than most to hate men but there's nothing on file about her being in any kind of trouble. It seems after the attack she tried her best to get on with her life and the woman has done well for herself, and…'

  'It's the way she dealt with Moss that concerns me,' Bannister interrupted.

  'I don't follow?'

  Turning to her, Bannister tugged at his ear lobe. 'She gathered information on the man, it wasn't a spur of the moment thing, she made sure that when she confronted him she had the evidence to support her claims that Moss was an idle sod. The fact that he went for her just proves that she had her facts right, and it would have been the final nail in his coffin.'

  'You're saying she was calculating in what she did?'

  'Think about it, we all know people who are bone idle, who swan through life doing as little as possible and using others to make a name for themselves, but we never try to catch them at it, but she did, she planned it.'

  'You think she could have used the same mentality to kill Clark and Bartle?'

  Bannister found himself nodding. 'Again, both men must have been in contact with their killer, and they must have been led to believe that she wanted to be chased, and more importantly…'

  'Caught?' Carole finished.

  'Just like with Stokes, she tapped into their natural arrogance. All three of them liked to spend time at the gym, no doubt posing in front of the mirror with their biceps on show. They all had a high opinion of themselves, so my guess is whoever killed them boosted their egos or if that didn't work then she belittled them.'

  'Pushing their buttons?'

  'Exactly, and the fact that Moss must have followed the woman to the mill when she went to meet Stokes suggests it could be Linton.'

  Carole chewed her bottom lip as she thought about Bannister's words. 'That makes sense especially when you consider what happened to her during the attack.'

  'Plus, her neighbour told Lasser that she liked to run at night over the fields and through the woods.'

  'Doing a recce, choosing the places and getting to know the areas before setting up the meet?' Carole pondered.

  Bannister rubbed a hand across the back of his stiff neck. 'The truth is Clark and Bartle were screwed the minute they turned up to meet the woman. They wanted to play Rambo and yet she wanted them both dead, by the time they realised what was happening it was too late for them both.'

  'The question is who will she target next?'

  Bannister looked out at the empty carpark, his hand still kneading his neck muscles. 'Perhaps it might be a good idea to have someone watch Stokes.'

  Carole thought for a moment then she pulled out her phone, Bannister listened as she rang Spenner to fill him in on the details.

  'He left the station about five minutes ago on foot, I want him followed. Chances are he'll be heading home at some point but stick with him and let me know exactly what he gets up to.'

  The DCI heard Spenner's mumbled response and then she ended the call.

  'Right, Alan, let's see what Stokes does and, in the meantime, we try to find out all we can about May Linton.'

  Without uttering another word, they turned from the window and went to work.

  134

  Lasser hammered on the door of number twenty Delland Rise before stepping back and waiting for a response. Seconds later, he was hammering again, his fist banging against the woodwork, the door rattling in the frame.

  Crouchin
g, he lifted the letterbox and peered into the hallway of the flat. 'Dyer, open the door or I'll kick it down,' he shouted.

  Silence.

  With a sigh, he straightened and turned to look out of one of the many windows at the front of the building. His eyes narrowing when he saw the figure below trudging across the car park, a white plastic carrier bag dangling from his right hand. Moving closer to the window, Lasser peered down, when the man looked up and stopped he jabbed out a finger, as soon as the bag fell from Barry Dyer's hand Lasser was running down the first flight of stairs.

  Reaching the landing, he glanced through the window to see Dyer running back the way he had come. Snarling, Lasser hurtled down the next set of steps before blasting out through the communal door.

  Dyer glanced over his shoulder as he ran, his blackened eyes widening in fear when he saw Lasser flying towards him.

  Turning back, he tried to increase his speed. Reaching the street, he turned left and dashed towards the parade of shops in the hope of losing the copper who had broken his nose.

  He made it to the opening of the shops, ignoring the shoppers who looked at him curiously with his face coated in sweat, both eyes blackened, his nose held straight by the white tape stretched across his face.

  His frantic eyes darted left and right desperate to find a hiding place, but with a groan of anguish he realised that the shops would offer no escape.

  Another look over his shoulder, and he felt the fear erupt into terror when he saw the copper less than fifteen feet away, his black eyes hard and unflinching as he chased him down.

  Suddenly, the row of shops ended, and Dyer cut right, running alongside a kebab house, the bins – pressed close to the pebble-dashed wall – stank of discarded food, the ground littered with mouldy lettuce leaves and squashed tomatoes.

  At the end, he turned right again and cried out as he saw his path blocked by a six-foot wall. His run changed into a stagger of disbelief and he turned at the sound of running feet to find Lasser closing in.

  'Please, I…'

  Grabbing the front of Dyer's jacket, Lasser slammed him up against the wall and pushed his face in close.

  'Eight years ago, you were arrested for driving pissed, out near Billinge Park.'

  Dyer tried to swallow but the big fists were bunched beneath his throat making it difficult to breath.

  'You claimed you had been to Thorpe's Gym and called for a pint on the way home,' Lasser eased his grip a fraction to allow Dyer to respond.

  'Jesus, that was years ago, I…'

  'It was the same night that a teenager was attacked in the park and you just happened to be in the area shortly after it happened.'

  Lasser saw Dyer's eyes widen, the terror filling his gaze completely.

  'They took a DNA sample and I wasn't even there!' Dyer's voice cracked.

  Lasser slowly released the man and took a short step back before jabbing a finger out.

  'Andrew Viner is dead,' he said.

  Dyer pressed himself tight to the wall, his hands rising into the air as if Lasser were holding a gun on him.

  'Dead!' he shrieked.

  'His mother stuck a meat cleaver through his skull.'

  Dyer's face lost all colour as he started to shake. 'No way.'

  Lasser stepped closer again, his finger jabbing into the man's chest. 'Back when you were pulled for drink-driving did you know Viner?'

  'Andy can't be dead.'

  Lasser wrapped his knuckles on the top of Dyer's head. 'Answer the question or I'll break your nose again.'

  Dyer's hands rose quickly to his face, protecting the damaged appendage. 'Yeah, we grew up on the same street, we've known one another for years.'

  'Did he used to go to Thorpe's Gym with you?'

  Dyer nodded, his hands still cupping his nose.

  'Who else?'

  The injured man tried to press himself further back into the wall but then he seemed to sag, his hands slowly falling away from his face. 'There were a few of us who used to go.'

  'Names?' Lasser demanded.

  'Christ, I…'

  'You're older than Andrew Viner, right?'

  Dyer nodded. 'Three years older.'

  'You were the one with the wheels?'

  'I had a car, yes.'

  'Give me the names of the ones you used to take to the gym?'

  Dyer had his lips pressed together as if determined not to utter a word.

  Lasser sighed heavily, his nostrils flaring. 'Viner and who else?'

  'A guy called Moss,' Dyer whispered.

  'Scott?'

  'Yeah,' Dyer said, the surprise evident in his voice and widening eyes.

  'Well, no need to worry about him, he lost his guts in a mill in Leigh.'

  This time Dyer's legs became unhinged and Lasser grabbed his jacket again to haul him upright.

  'Yeah, you heard right, he was slaughtered like a pig, now who else used to go with you?'

  'Adam Stokes!'

  Lasser's brain was now in full flow as he glared at Dyer.

  'Anyone else?'

  'John Thorpe.'

  The name made Lasser frown in confusion. 'The gym owner?'

  'Back then it was his old man who owned the gym, he died about five years ago and John took over.'

  'You all knew one another, all went to the same gym?'

  Dyer screwed his eyes closed and nodded.

  'And you drove them there and back?'

  'Most of the time, yeah.'

  'What about the night the girl was attacked in the park?' Lasser asked, his voice low and seething with anger.

  Barry Dyer kept his eyes closed, his bottom lip trembling as Lasser pushed his face in close. 'You admitted you'd been to the gym and then the boozer, your story was checked out and either you were telling the truth or someone at the gym was covering for you.'

  Dyer's eyes sprang wide. 'I swear I was at the gym and…'

  'What about the others?'

  Lasser watched as his eyes slid left and right rapidly, as if looking for an escape route.

  'I…'

  'You said you drove them there and back, you were older, you had the car.'

  'I know, but…'

  'On the night of the attack you would have had them all in the car at one point, right?'

  'Yeah,' Dyer whispered, his face now coated with sweat.

  'Yet when you were pulled there was only you in the car?'

  'Please, I never touched her.'

  'No. But your fucking friends did,' Lasser snarled and drew back his fist.

  Dyer yelped and then he started to talk, his eyes saucer-like. 'It was Thorpe who told me to pull over and let them all out of the car.'

  'Why?'

  'We were coming back from the gym and they spotted a girl walking through the park gates. I swear I hadn't seen her, but I did as they asked and then they jumped out and ran after her.'

  Lasser started to picture the scene, darkness falling as Dyer drove through Billinge taking his mates home after a session at the gym. Then May Linton appears, heading home after a day at University. He imagined her wanting to get to home. He wondered if she had hesitated, paused at the park gates and looked into the darkness, trying to decide if it was worth the risk taking the shortcut.

  No doubt she had used the same route countless times, and yet this time things had been different.

  'Once they vanished what did you do?'

  Dyer felt the tears trickle down his cheeks. 'Thorpe told me to wait. I didn't have a fucking clue what they intended doing, I swear it. I know I was older than the others, but believe me, when Thorpe told you to do something you just did it.'

  'What about Viner? I saw the way he treated you in The Royal Oak, he even tried to stitch you up as the driver of his car and you said fuck-all.'

  Dyer wiped a hand across his sweating brow. 'Andrew was a tosser, but he paid for everything.'

  'You put up with his shit for the price of a few beers?' Lasser asked, his voice brimming with disgust.


  'It wasn't just beers he paid for,' Dyer said cryptically as he rubbed his sweating palms on the front of his jeans.

  'But Thorpe was the real leader?'

  Dyer nodded his head emphatically. 'John Thorpe could be great one minute and the next he would just fucking explode, and I mean he would lose it completely, it scared the rest of us shitless.'

  Lasser pictured Thorpe sat at the desk, looking healthy and tanned but not of the hulking variety that frequented his gym.

  'What happened next?'

  'I sat there waiting for ages and then Thorpe rang and told me to drive around to the other exit on the far side of the park.'

  'That's when you got pulled for a faulty light?'

  'Yeah.'

  'Yet you never mentioned your mates; even after you heard about what had happened to the girl you kept your mouth closed, didn't you?'

  'The copper breathalysed me, and I lost my licence, then a few days later they called at the house and I had to give a DNA sample, but I had no fucking idea why.'

  'Bollocks, you would have put two and two together, you were pulled outside the park, and even though the courts slapped a restriction on naming the victim the crime was still reported in the press, and you would have fucking known what your bastard friends had done.'

  'I…'

  Lasser's right hand shot out and gripped Dyer by the throat, grinding the back of his head against the brick wall. 'You knew and said nothing, you wanker!'

  'You don't know what Thorpe's like, if I'd said anything then he would have fucking killed me,' Dyer gasped.

  Lasser felt the revulsion twisting his face as he glared at Dyer. 'I want to know if Viner and Thorpe stayed in touch over the years?'

  'Yeah, yeah they did. I mean, we all still went to the gym now and again but not like we used to.'

  'Do you know if the two of them ever met up on their own?'

  'I don't know what you mean?' Dyer squeaked.

  'Oh, you fucking know all right, and this is your last chance to unburden your soul before I kick the shit out of you!'

  'Please, I don't know what they did, I…'

  'You knew they were guilty of rape, you shit-faced prick. I saw the way Viner treated the barmaid at The Royal, he treated her like dirt and I bet that was his natural attitude towards women, wasn't it?'