When the pub door opened, the flames in the grate twisted as the cold air blew into the lounge, two men walked in, one of them laughing as he wiped a hand across his head to flick the drops of rain away.
The second man was heading for the bar when he glanced to the left and came to a stop, his eyes widening in recognition.
'Bloody hell, Lasser, I haven't seen you since God were a lad!'
Looking up, Lasser smiled. 'All right, Alby, how you doing?'
Alby turned to his friend, and then nodded towards the bar. 'Get 'em in, Johnnie, and I'll catch up with you.'
Johnnie nodded, continuing to the bar as Alby pulled out a chair and sat down.
'And who's this?' he asked, smiling at Jackie.
'Jackie, this is Alby Baker,' Lasser said, picking the glass up and taking another drink as Jackie smiled at the man opposite.
'You still a copper then?' Alby asked, turning back to Lasser.
'For my sins.'
'Christ, I don't know how you do that job; I mean, they couldn't pay me enough to wade through the shit like you do.'
Jackie frowned slightly as Alby eased back in the chair and folded his arms, he was a big hard-looking man in his late thirties, his hair cut close to the bone, the leather jacket he wore looked a size too small for him.
'I have a good pair of wellies and besides, I've been doing it too long now for a career change,' Lasser answered.
'And how's Tasha?' Alby asked, the flicker of a smile passing over his mouth.
Jackie felt the subtle change in Lasser, a slight tensing at her side. 'She's fine.'
'Does she ever talk about me?'
Lasser raised an eyebrow. 'And why would she do that?'
'Me and Tasha used to be an item,' Alby explained as he glanced at Jackie.
'Oh right.'
'Lasser is an ugly bugger everyone can see that, but his sister was a proper stunner, every lad was after her.'
'Excuse me, but when did we slide back to the nineteen seventies?' Jackie suddenly asked.
Alby blinked at her in surprise as Lasser lifted the glass and took a small sip, his eyes fixed on Baker over the rim of the glass.
'''Seventies,'' I wasn't even born in the seventies?' Alby asked, perplexed.
'None of us were, but I believe it was a time when women were treated like trophies by big strong men like you in their Ford Capris.'
Alby's eyes widened in shock and then he glanced at Lasser who remained impassive, his dark eyes watchful.
'Bloody hell, I was only saying how attractive she was.'
Jackie nodded. 'You're right of course, which makes it hard for me to believe that she actually went out with you in the first place.'
Alby glared at her for a moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. 'Well, that told me, didn't it?'
'So, come on, Alby, I take it you packed the market stall in?' Lasser asked.
The smile slipped from the big man's face, replaced with a scowl of anger. 'Three generation of Bakers had worked on that market and, thanks to the council hiking up the rent, we had to close in the end. This town is on its arse, and the market was a place people could go and get what they needed at a reasonable price, and now it's like a ghost town.'
Lasser could see the anger in Alby's eyes, the market hall used to be thriving but over the years the town planners had built a fancy mall to attract the larger stores into the town centre. He had no doubt that part of the deal was to make sure the council upped the rent on the market traders to force them out of business, to make it easier for the named shops to make a profit.
'I've ended up working behind the butcher's counter at ASDA and that's a bloody joke, all I do is cut the plastic off the shrink-wrapped joints and put them on display, it's laughable, no real butchering involved.'
'That's grim,' Lasser agreed.
'All bollocks, Lasser, all a sham.'
Jackie took a sip from her glass as Alby Baker continued to fume.
'Though I suppose any job is better than none,' Lasser ventured.
Alby didn't look impressed with the comment. 'That's easy for you to say, you have a good job and…'
'Hang on, you just said you would never do my job, so you can't have it both ways,' Lasser interrupted.
Alby scowled before rising to his feet. 'Right, it's been good to catch up but I'm spitting feathers, so I'll see you again sometime.'
Lasser nodded and Jackie smiled thinly as Alby Baker turned and strode over to the bar, holding out his hand, as his mate passed him the pint.
'He's highly strung,' she said in hushed tones.
'Alby's always been the same, I've known him since we were kids, and even back then he was a pain in the arse, and I don't think the passage of time has changed him much,' Lasser said as he drained the glass. 'Do you fancy a takeaway?' he asked hopefully.
'Seems Alby isn't the only one who hasn't changed much,' she said with a smile.
'Indian?'
'Go on then you've twisted my arm,' she replied before finishing her drink.
Alby raised a hand as they left the pub, dashing around to where the car was parked to avoid getting drenched. Once inside, Lasser turned the key and flicked the heater on as Jackie slipped the seat belt over her shoulder.
Seconds later, they pulled off the car park, heading away from the Lion, the wipers moving back and forth, shifting the heavy rain from the windscreen.
'So, how long did Tasha go out with Capri man for?' she asked.
'About a fortnight and then she dumped him.'
'Did she say why?'
Lasser shrugged as he fumbled the cigarettes from his pocket. 'Truth is they were only kids, about sixteen I think, and Tasha went through a few boyfriends back then.'
'Oh, I bet she would give you a crack if she heard you saying that.'
'No doubt she would, but it's the truth.'
'And what about you, did you have lots of girlfriends?' she asked with a mischievous smile.
Grabbing another gear, Lasser glanced in the mirrors. 'God no.'
'Why not? I mean, I bet there were lots of girls wanting to go out with you.'
'No idea, I tended to stay away from the opposite sex, they scared me too much.'
Turning slightly, Jackie looked at his serious profile. 'Scared you?'
Keeping his eyes on the road, Lasser nodded. 'Believe it or not, I was shy.'
Jackie opened her mouth to deny his words but then fell silent, the truth was he was right. When they had first met there had been a kind of fragile uncertainty about him and even now, she would occasionally see the look of frailty in his eyes. It was part of the reason she loved him so much, he had nothing but respect for the opposite sex and never once had she heard him get angry at a woman, never once had she felt uneasy in his company.
'My poor man, being shy is something that women love.'
He flicked her a quick glance of surprise. 'Really?'
She nodded and smiled.
Lasser pursed his lips. 'No wonder I'm a babe magnet,' he said.
When she thumped him lightly on the arm, he laughed before grabbing another gear.
3
Bannister sat on the patio chair, the rain bouncing off the roof of the pagoda, taking another pull on the cigarette he blew the smoke out on a sigh. At his back, the French doors were standing open on an empty house and the thought terrified him.
Since Suzanne's death, every day had felt like an age, he had gone back to work in the hope that it would help take his mind off the way his life had fallen apart. Yet the truth was it hadn't worked, and he had spent the last few days sitting behind his desk like a spare part.
Even his colleagues had seemed nervous around him, as if they didn't know what to say or how to approach him, no doubt afraid that if they said the wrong thing then he would explode at them.
At the end of the shift, he had come back to the empty house, and now he was sitting outside watching the rain fall onto the waterlogged garden, feeling like a waxwork eff
igy waiting to be animated. In the last twenty minutes, he had spoken to both Kelly and Belle, it had become a daily ritual, the girls checking up on him to make sure he was OK. Although he loved them both, the pretence of saying he was fine was slowly killing him.
He yearned to tell them the truth, he wanted to say he felt lost, alone and crushed and he was slowly sinking into a depression that seemed deep and endless, though he knew he would never bare his soul to the girls, never dump his shit on their shoulders.
Instead, he put on a phony act, sounding almost cheerful as he spun his shameful daily bullshit.
When Kelly had asked him about work, his hand had started to shake in distress.
'It's been fine, Kel, I've been keeping busy catching up on paperwork, and the hours just fly by.'
'Oh, that's great, Dad, I knew you'd soon get back into the swing of things.'
'Like a duck to water,' he'd lied screwing his eyes closed, the tears leaking free.
It had been the same with Belle, and by the time he had finished he felt so exhausted that he had been unable to ask them how their day had been, which simply made the guilt even more acute.
Now, he took another harrowing pull on the cigarette, the smoke blasting from his nose before drifting out into the darkness.
Both girls had agreed that selling the house was a good idea, yet the ties that bound him to this place were both strong and yet choking him at the same time. He couldn't seem to decide what to do, one minute he would be determined to put the house on the market and move on with his life, then he would feel the terror build as he pictured moving from here and losing the memories that were locked within these four walls.
During the conversation, Kelly had asked him if he had decided what he intended doing about the house, and he had managed to sidestep the question, but he knew she hadn't been fooled and she would ask again. No doubt after they had talked to him, they would ring one another to compare notes, dissecting the conversation as they tried to sort his truth from the lies.
Everything seemed to drain him, it didn't matter what it was, earlier in the day he had walked through the station to see Carole Henson, by the time he reached her office door he had been out of breath, a film of sweat on his brow, his heart thundering in his chest. In the end he had turned away from the door and walked out of the station to the small Perspex shelter used by just him and Lasser, the last of the smokers.
Flicking the cigarette onto the puddled garden, he rose to his feet and walked back into the house. Turning, he closed the French doors before moving through the house and up the stairs. Reaching the bedroom door, he could feel his mind awash with pain as he reached out and pushed it open. He remained unmoving as he looked at the bed, the bed in which the woman he loved had died, the thought made him shiver as he stepped forward and crossed the room before flicking on the bedside light. Then he stood and looked around the space, Suzanne's clothes still hung in the wardrobe, jeans, dresses and T-shirts, the small chest of drawers to his left contained her makeup, perfumes and underwear, he could see her favourite lipstick on the dresser used only for special occasions, a night out or a celebration. There would be no more of those, no more anything.
Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, the tears slipping free again. There had been a few times he had sat here and pretended that Suzanne was still alive and in bed. It was something he had done a lot of over the years, coming home after another long day trying to track down some scumbag bastard, worn out as he slumped down. Plenty of times she had been asleep but when she felt his weight on the bed, he would turn to find Suzanne smiling at him with love in her eyes, and then he would lay down beside her, and she would enfold him in her arms. He would lay his head on her soft breast, breathing in the scent of her, his worries would slowly fall away, until all he felt was a sense of serenity. Now, he turned and looked at the empty space and realised that there would be no more serenity, the guilt, fear and sense of loss would slowly crush him. No doubt he would slap on the mask for the world and try to hold it all together, but inside he knew it was hopeless. He and Suzanne had fitted together perfectly, and she had been more than willing to ignore his idiotic ways, taking his anger at the injustices of the world and diluting the feeling of hopelessness and anger until he felt renewed and ready to face another day of chasing the ''bad guys''.
Kicking off his shoes, he stretched out on the bed, resting his head on the pillow, his senses reeling as he caught the ghost-like scent of her perfume.
Closing his eyes, he desperately tried to hold onto her image, her smile, her eyes full of love, the feel of her soft skin, the taste of her lips, but as always, the memories faded until the façade was stripped away, and he was just a man in an empty house with a broken heart and a fear of what the future held for him.
4
Doc Shannon looked like a giant snowman decked out in the stark white paper suit, his blue gloved hands appeared huge. Though his eyes were full of sadness as he studied the woman nailed to the fireplace, blood coated her clothing from the ghastly wound in her head. Then his eyes widened as the floorboards creaked beneath his bulk, and he licked his lips imagining the floor giving way and…
Odette stood to his left, facing the victim, her face pale, her eyes full of shock and sadness, the claw hammer lay discarded to the side, speckles of blood on the shining metal.
'Poor woman,' Shannon commented as he backed away slightly, trying to stay light on his feet.
Glancing at him, Odette sighed. 'That's putting it mildly.'
Shannon sighed heavily. 'You know what I mean.'
'Unfortunately, I do,' she paused, 'I take it the wound to her head was the cause of death?'
'I think there's more than one wound to the skull, but I'll know more when I get her moved to the hospital.'
When Carl from the SOCO team appeared at the bedroom door, Odette held up a hand.
'Better stay there for a minute, Carl, this place isn't safe, and I don't want us to all end up going through the floor and landing in the kitchen.'
'No problem,' he replied, glancing briefly at the body crucified to the old wooden fireplace in the derelict room that stank of mildew and violent death.
Moving over to the window, Odette shone the torch down to the ground, whoever the killer was they had taken a chance leaping from the window.
'Pity the sick bastard didn't break his neck when he jumped.'
Turning, she nodded in agreement as Shannon fiddled with his beard.
'Right, we need to get the victim moved and then Carl can get to work,' she said before heading for the door – the doctor tiptoeing behind her like some huge cartoon character, a thin bead of sweat on his brow.
Eventually, they made it outside, the rain was still falling heavily, she could see Steve Black standing to her left, his shoulders hunched, his face quivering with anger as Shaun Rourke approached.
'You OK?' Odette asked.
Wiping the rain from his face, Shaun nodded. 'Just about.'
'I was looking through the window, the killer must have been quite athletic to risk that leap.'
'I wanted to go after the bastard,' he paused and shook his head, 'trouble is I couldn't pluck up enough courage to do it, and then I saw what he'd done and…' Rourke stopped and swallowed the remembered horror.
Odette patted his shoulders in sympathy. 'I don't blame you.'
His cheeks inflated as he let the tension out in a whoosh of air.
'Besides Black was at ground level and you shouted a warning, didn't you?'
Shaun nodded. 'Yeah, yeah I did.'
Moving slightly left, Odette raised her hand. 'PC Black have you got a minute?' she asked.
Black remained unmoving for a moment and then he reluctantly trudged forward, coming to a stop four feet away, his beady eyes flicking between the trio who stood in front of him in the falling rain.
Slipping her hands into her pocket, Odette took a quick sharp breath. 'Can you explain why
you didn't go with PC Rourke into the house?'
Black glared at Rourke for a moment before turning back to face Odette.
'I told him the place was a death trap and I was right.'
Before Odette could reply, Shannon piped up.
'What are you talking about?'
'Well, there's a dead body upstairs, isn't there?'
'Is that some kind of sick bloody joke?' the doc demanded, his eyes narrowing.
Black shrugged as if unconcerned with the fuming Shannon.
Odette stepped forward; her hair bedraggled with the rain. 'The fact is a fellow officer asked you for assistance and you refused.'
'I used my discretion and common sense, and common sense told me the place was unsafe.'
Odette looked hard at Black, not even trying to keep the anger from showing. 'OK, well can you explain that when Shaun shouted from the window, you refused to give chase?'
'I didn't refuse, I was too busy trying to get rid of the vomit from my face and eyes, and that was thanks to Rourke's weak stomach, so if you're looking for someone to blame then it won't be me.'
'It never is you, is it, Steven?' she questioned.
'I do my job, but I'm not some robot who blindly follows someone when they're recklessly putting their life at risk.'
'And when would you put your ''life at risk''?' she raised an eyebrow as she waited for him to answer.
Black said nothing as the rain dripped from the end of his bulbous nose.
Odette held the sigh at bay, she knew Black didn't care, had no interest in the job, which in most other professions would have been annoying but not life threatening, but when you were a police officer it was vital that you could trust the person you were partnered with.
Suddenly, she felt the anger flare as she pictured Shaun entering the derelict house alone, Black refusing to back him when he needed it, and then failing to pursue the killer after he leapt through the window.
'You really shouldn't be doing this job, should you?' she asked.
'Too right,' Shannon snapped in agreement.
Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021) Page 2
