Blood Bought

by Robin Roughley

  'Where are you going?' Bannister asked.

  'I want to know what Thorpe has of value in the outhouse.'

  'Value?'

  Lasser stopped and turned. 'Of the three buildings out there two have been allowed to fall into rack and ruin but one of them has brand new doors fitted and the windows on the left have been bricked up.'

  'Right, check it out but don't be all day about it.'

  Lasser nodded before turning and heading out of the room.

  Thirty seconds later, he walked back out through the damaged back door, Brown was still standing in the same spot, inspecting to the butt of the shotgun checking for damage, his face still set with a deep scowl.

  'Look, what's going on here?'

  'Do you know what's in the outbuilding?' Lasser enquired.

  Brown turned and looked at the solid wooden doors. 'Not a clue, like I said I only come over here now and again. I mean, I don't even know the guy that well and…'

  Lasser brushed past him and strode towards the doors that were held closed by a large hasp and a grey padlock. Looking left and right, he searched the immediate area looking for something to attack the lock with, then a sly smile crept onto his face as he turned back to Brown.

  'Could you blow the padlock off with that thing?'

  Browns eyes sprang wide as Lasser raised an eyebrow.

  'Are you having a laugh?'

  Lasser's face remained deadpan. 'Do I look like a comedian?' he asked.

  Brown swallowed and shook his head.

  'Well, can you?'

  'Not the lock but it might work on the hinges.'

  Lasser paused for a moment. 'You want to give it a go?'

  'But what about Thorpe? He won't be happy when he comes back and sees you've broke into his house and now you want me to blow holes in his new doors.'

  'Let me worry about that, you just do your Wyatt Earp act and have a bash.'

  Closing the shotgun with a clack, Brown moved forwards until he was eight feet from the doors.

  'You'd better stand well back, pal, I have no idea what will happen when I fire.'

  Lasser took the advice and moved well over to the left before plugging each ear with an index finger.

  Raising the gun, Brown let fly, the boom sounding thunderous, the wood around the top left-hand hinge was blown away and Brown nodded to himself in satisfaction before emptying the second barrel.

  Lasser glanced back at the house just as Bannister appeared at the upstairs window, his mouth open wide in disbelief.

  Lasser watched as the DCI vanished from view, knowing that he would soon appear at the back door ranting and raving.

  'Works better than I thought it would,' Brown said, surveying the damage.

  'Yeah, well, sort the bottom one out now,' Lasser said, keeping one eye on the back door of the house.

  Brown cracked open the barrel and pulled out the two spent shells before replacing them with new ones.

  Bannister shot out through the doors just as Brown fired at the low hinge.

  'Lasser, what the fuck are you doing!' he bellowed as he stormed over the tufted grass.

  'Fire,' Lasser hissed and Brown did just that.

  This time the charge blew a hole in the woodwork, ragged shards of timber shot into the air before scattering onto the ground.

  'Did you even bother looking for a sodding key?' Bannister demanded as he came to a halt.

  'No time to go searching for keys, we…'

  'And what if Thorpe has some vintage car parked on the other side and…'

  'I don't give a toss,' Lasser interrupted.

  Bannister's face grew puce with anger and then he seemed to deflate as Brown watched him with a cautious look in his eye.

  'What do you want me to do?'

  Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, Bannister blew out a gasp of hot air and then nodded. 'I want that door blown to smithereens.'

  Inwardly, Lasser smiled as Brown cracked open the barrel again.

  139

  With the light fading fast, May felt the despair building as she swept around another corner, the lane straightening out and running off into the distance; hitting the brakes she brought the car to a halt, her hands shaking with fury on the wheel.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate, tried to control the feelings that swept through her mind like a swarm of angry wasps.

  'Think!' she hissed, slamming her hands on the wheel.

  She retraced the journey in her mind, she had managed to keep the car in view until she hit the crossroads. The road opposite had run true and straight and there had been no sign of the vehicle in the distance, she had chosen to turn right and now she realised that she had chosen wrong. In her mind, she pictured the left-hand fork and knew that it eventually led to a dead end of ancient trees, a small path beyond snaked down into Borsdane Woods. She had run that way many times and knew that there were sixty steps leading down to the rocky bed of the stream below.

  Behind closed eyes May saw her ghost self running along the twisting lane, the sun warm on her face, her legs eating up the ground. The fields either side had been filled with golden wheat standing high in the still air.

  She remembered pausing before she reached the woods to take a drink of cold water from her bottle. Wiping the sweat from her brow and shielding her eyes, she had looked out over the fields. The old building looked out of place against the golden fields and the backdrop of trees, the heat haze shimmering on the horizon.

  The roof sagged, the windows had long since been smashed, even from two hundred yards away she could see the front door standing open, a black rectangle cut into the crumbling brickwork.

  Screwing the cap back on, she had set off again and after thirty yards she had passed a lane on the left smothered with weeds and brambles, then she had vanished into the woods, flying down the steps to the bridge far below that spanned the stream before another set of worn steps rose to the opposite side of the valley.

  May opened her eyes as she thought about the dilapidated building, then she did a quick three-point turn and headed back the way she had come, saying a silent prayer as she went through the gears.

  140

  Between the three of them, they managed to get the right-hand door free from the hinges, leaping back when it fell to the floor with a heavy thump.

  Stepping into the building, Bannister looked around the space that was littered with tea chests while Lasser turned to Brown.

  'Thanks for the help but we'll take it from here,' he said, following his boss into the brick building.

  Dexion racking took up three of the walls, all Lasser could see was rusting tools on the shelves. Looking to his right he flicked the switch, seconds later the overhead strip lights pinged to life.

  'Well, I see bugger all of value in here,' Bannister moaned.

  Lasser walked to the left and opened the lid on one of the chests to reveal an empty box.

  In the distance, the sound of a siren split the air, rapidly growing closer.

  'Right, Lasser, you have a nosey around, I'll go and sort out the SOCO boys and girls.'

  As soon as Bannister left, Lasser pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, squinting through the smoke at the other boxes.

  He walked along the line lifting the lids as he went, most were empty, one or two contained more tools, spanners and screwdrivers. Two more contained small engine parts, he recognised a carburettor and a couple of oil filters.

  Taking another pull on the cigarette, he moved to the next and flicked the lid off, his eyes narrowing when he saw the jumble of clothing in the bottom of the box. Pinching the red end of the cigarette, he dropped the stump into his pocket before reaching down and lifting the small black jacket from the box, catching the faint scent of perfume as he held it up and studied it for a moment before placing it on the lid of the box at the side. Then he rummaged again, pulling out a denim skirt and a small red T-shirt. Placing them on top of the jacket he looked back down into the box, the anger rising
as he dipped back down and grabbed the pair of scuffed trainers, the off-white leather and laces speckled with red.

  Moving to the next box he flicked the lid off and looked down, the shoe lay on top of a stack of what looked like pornographic magazines. Reaching down his hand closed on the heel of the shoe, lifting it out he was instantly transported back to the stretch of woodland by the side of the dual carriageway. Lasser felt the anger reignite as he looked at the stained, red rose on the heel, recognising it as the missing shoe that Minnie Burrows had been wearing the night she had died.

  Placing it on top of the lid of the box he stormed from the outbuilding, an image of John Thorpe's smug face imprinted on his brain as he went to tell Bannister about the find.

  141

  Easing the car onto the narrow lane, May turned off the headlights and killed the engine, the gloom sweeping in as she clicked the door open and stepped out. To her left, she could see the solid boundary of the woods filled with deepening shadows. The wind blew hard across the open fields as she closed the door and lifted out the head torch from her pocket before slipping it on.

  The first spattering of rain fell from the squally sky, the sensation cooling her burning skin, though it did nothing to alleviate the fury that scorched through the heart of her. By now the man behind the wheel could be miles away, he could have backtracked, and she would never have known. The thought that he could have slipped from her grasp was almost too much to bear, and she broke into a run in an effort to keep the anguish at bay.

  Her feet splashed through puddles of standing water, sending up spray from her shoes as the rain began to come down with force.

  May never even noticed.

  She sprinted down the lane towards the ramshackle building, her heart racing, her mind full of revenge.

  142

  Barry Dyer cringed in the back seat of the Audi as Lasser opened the rear door and glared in at him.

  In the distance, three more squad cars bounced their way down the rutted lane towards the house, the blue lights spiralling out over the open fields, the siren screech increasing.

  'Get out,' Lasser ordered, stepping back.

  Dyer reluctantly did as he was told and stood nervously by the side of the car as Lasser loomed over him.

  'I want to know where Thorpe could have run to?'

  'Jesus, I have no idea, I've not seen him in weeks, he…'

  'Your friend is a rapist and murderer, I want to know which fucking sewer he's hiding in?'

  Dyer felt his skin crawl and his balls tighten in terror as the words sunk into his stupefied brain.

  'He killed someone?' he asked in a shaking voice.

  The cars pulled up at the front of the house and Lasser waited for the siren wail to die before leaning in close to Dyer's sweating face.

  'I notice you didn't comment when I told you he was a rapist.'

  Dyer started to shake his head as Lasser's eyes drilled into him.

  'Please, it was Andy who was mates with him, I…'

  'Did you ever drop them off or pick them up from anywhere?'

  'You mean like a night on the town?'

  Lasser snatched the front of Dyer's jacket and yanked him forward. 'Viner used you as his driver, his whipping boy, and you did as he asked because you got free drinks and coke.'

  '''Coke''!?' Dyer's eyes widened in shock.

  'It's all over your fucking nose and I can't see a prick like you buying his own so that leaves Viner, and I want to know who he got his shit from?'

  'Please, I…'

  Lasser drew his fist back, his face carved with fury, his mind crammed with the image of Minnie Burrows – abused, murdered and dumped at the side of the road.

  'Harry Hoffer!' Dyer screamed just as Bannister appeared out of the rain-swept gloom.

  Lasser slowly lowered his right arm, his eyes still alight with anger.

  'What about Hoffer?' Bannister asked.

  Lasser glanced at his boss in confusion. 'You know the guy?'

  Bannister nodded. 'He's worked at Thorpe's gym for years, he was friends with John Thorpe's old man, me and Odette went to see the guy – but what I want to know is why Dyer here just blurted out his name?'

  Both men looked accusingly at Dyer cringing by the side of the car, his lips trembling, his face shiny with sweat.

  'I was just asking Dyer where he used to take Viner and Thorpe, where they got their coke from, and he blurted out the name Hoffer.'

  Bannister drew air in through his nostrils, his chin jutting. 'Are you saying Hoffer supplied Viner with cocaine?'

  Dyer nodded rapidly but kept his lips pressed together.

  'What else did he supply them with?' the DCI asked.

  'I have no idea, but I did drop Andy off there a few times and he always came out with some snow.'

  'Did you take Thorpe there as well?'

  Dyer managed to raise his gaze to look at Bannister.

  'No, but Andy went there a lot, I used to wait in the car, but I saw Thorpe there loads of times, or sometimes I just saw his car.'

  'What was he doing there?'

  'I have no idea, but Thorpe and Hoffer are real close. I mean, if you didn't know them you'd think they were father and son.'

  Reaching out, Bannister grabbed Dyer by the scruff of the neck and hauled him across the grass, the wind blowing hard, the rain swirling as he pushed him towards the squad car.

  Spenner spotted his boss approaching and snapped to attention.

  'Spenner, lock this bugger in the back of the car and make sure he stays there.'

  'Yes, boss,' Spenner replied as he opened the back door.

  With a final thrust, Dyer fell into the rear of the car, slumping over the back seats; Spenner slammed the door closed and stood next to the car, trying to look as if he didn't mind standing guard over someone in a warm car, while he stood in a howling gale, pelted by freezing rain.

  Then the DCI was stalking back to his car, Lasser could see the anger smeared across his face.

  'Right, Lasser, you drive I want a word with Harry fucking Hoffer.'

  Lasser started the engine as Bannister climbed into the passenger seat and snapped the seatbelt into place.

  'What's Hoffer like?' Lasser asked as he turned the car around and drove down the rutted lane, the Audi rocking, the wheels splashing through the troughs of deepening water.

  'He's worked at the gym for years, flashes his butter-wouldn't-melt dentures and comes across as helpful, but now it looks as if that was all bollocks.'

  Snatching out his cigarettes, Bannister pulled two out and lit them before heading one over. 'You've met Thorpe – did he look like a coke fiend to you?' he asked as they reached tarmac and Lasser hit the gas pedal.

  Lasser pictured Thorpe, leaning back in the swivel chair tanned and smiling. 'No, he didn't.'

  Bannister glanced at his watch. 'I don't like this, I don't like this one bit.'

  Lasser thought of the missing shoe found in the tea chest and knew exactly what Bannister meant.

  'Get your foot down.' Bannister's voice came out as a vicious hiss.

  Lasser obliged.

  143

  When May saw the grey car parked by the side of the ramshackle house she came to a halt, her heart thumping, the fury screaming through her mind; resting her hands on her knees, she took a minute to get her breath back, taking the time to ready herself.

  The lane opened up into a rough semi-circle of tall weeds and chunks of broken farm machinery. In the growing darkness she could see the ground around her feet was littered with rotting apples that had fallen from the two trees towering either side of her.

  The urge to flick on the torch grew and yet she resisted the temptation, knowing that the light would herald her arrival and that was the last thing she wanted. So, she moved silently forward, her eyes searching the darkness, the driving rain making her squint against the onslaught.

  Moving towards the car, she stopped to look at the large dent in the bonnet and pictured Stokes airbo
rne before he came down hard on his head, his body broken, the blood spraying onto the surface of the road.

  Hesitating, she studied the house, the windows smashed, the open front door like a black maw in the weather-scoured brickwork. High above, the early-evening moon briefly shone from behind a covering of dark clouds before vanishing again.

  May cut left, skirting around the side of the house, she could see the gable end bowed as if the weight of the roof was too much for the walls to bear.

  The ground was strewn with broken tiles, the chimney above leaning precariously, ready to fall to earth in a jumble of brickwork.

  Moving to the rear of the property, the wind picked up speed – slamming into her – as the back of the house slowly came into view. She shivered though it had little to do with the wind that buffeted her or the rain that soaked her to the skin.

  The thought that the car could have been stolen and dumped here seeped into her mind and she felt the despair take over again as she realised the animal who had raped her could still be long gone.

  Her lips twisted into a snarl and then she was running towards the house, the tall weeds brushing against her knees, her long legs flying. Reaching the first broken window she reached up and flicked the torch on, the powerful beam illuminated the space in a stark, white glare. The walls of the room were covered with black mould, she could see where weeds had sprouted through the crumbling concrete floor. In the corner of the room bare bricks were visible, the fireplace long since vanished. Rusting, empty, beer cans lay strewn on the floor along with broken glass from smashed bottles and broken windows.

  Looking across the room, a set of stairs led to the floor above, some had been kicked through, others swollen and rotten with damp.

  Just as she turned away pain exploded in the back of her head. She pitched forwards landing in the wet grass, her eyes fluttering as she tried to hold onto the here and now, but the pain was too much, and she slipped into the darkness, her soul screaming in fury as she passed out.