'I know it sounds bloody mad, especially considering the amount of time that's passed between the two murders.'
'No, it doesn't.'
Lasser slid his hands in his pockets as Bannister leaned against the arched brickwork.
'Come on, Lasser, we've both been in this job long enough to know that there are no real surprises anymore. The truth is anyone could have found out about Ethel Brab on the internet, just like Roger did. Obviously, we are looking for a sick fucker, but I agree with you, I think the new victim was deliberately taken there by her killer. I know some might say it was nothing more than a coincidence, but I don't buy that.'
'Question is what can we do about it?' Lasser asked.
He heard Bannister sigh in the darkness. 'We need to know more about the dead woman, but until someone comes forward to report her missing, we're in the dark over all this.'
Lasser felt the truth of Bannister's words, his frustration growing with every second that ticked into oblivion. 'I don't get why he used the hammer and nails.'
'Neither do I, but we both know that sick bastards always have their own warped way of looking at the world, and to whoever did this it will have seemed perfectly rational,' Bannister paused, 'we know Ethel Brab was bludgeoned to death, but we don't have the full details of the crime scene.'
Lasser stifled a yawn as Bannister pulled the phone from his pocket.
'Who are you ringing?'
'Taxi.'
'Stay here for the night.'
Bannister flicked him a look, the light from the screen illuminating his face. 'Are you sure?'
'Course I'm sure, there's a spare bedroom that's never used.'
They started to walk towards the boat, the rain still falling from the night sky.
'Jackie says one of her friends is looking for someone to housesit her boat while she goes travelling for a few months, she asked me if I fancy it.'
Lasser kept his eyes on the warm light that spilled from the windows of the boat onto the towpath.
'Are you going to help her out?'
'I might,' the DCI hesitated, 'truth is I'm worried about selling the house and losing the memories at the same time.'
'Well, if you take the offer it will give you a bit of breathing space.'
'How do you think the girls will feel about me spending time away from the house?' Bannister asked.
'I think they'll be fine, they've both said they just want you to be happy.'
'When did they say that?'
'About three weeks ago.'
Bannister scrunched his shoulders against the rain. 'They've said the same thing to me more than once.'
'And they mean it, they're not just saying it for your benefit.'
When Bannister's phone rang, he lifted it from his pocket and checked the screen. 'It's Kelly,' he said. 'I'll take it out here.'
Lasser nodded and stepped onto the boat, pulling the door open before vanishing down the three steps.
Taking a deep breath, Bannister tapped at the screen. 'Hi, Kel, how are you, love?'
A few seconds later, Lasser reappeared and opened the large golfing umbrella before handing it to Bannister who nodded his thanks as Lasser went back inside.
'Listen, Kel, I want to run something by you, and if you have any sort of problem then you have to let me know, OK?'
The rain battered the umbrella as Bannister started to talk, his face set with a frown of unease as he laid it all on the line.
22
Scott strode through the rain, his hair flattened by the deluge, his face like thunder.
Clara Bell followed, in no rush to catch up, the umbrella over her head keeping her nice and dry.
Scott had sulked all night, and the truth was the party had been a total let-down. The way he had sold it to her he had made it sound as if the place was going to be packed, he had even claimed that there would be some girls there that she knew. Though the truth was there had been hardly anyone at the house, there had been a few cans of cheap cider that had been drunk within half an hour. The whole thing had been a waste of time and she'd told Scott that she would have been better staying at home to wash her hair. He had tried to kiss her and made a grab for her breasts, but she had pushed him away.
'What do you think you're doing?' she had snapped.
'Jesus, what's up with you?' he had whined.
They had been standing in the kitchen, the thump of the drum and bass seemed to make the walls vibrate.
'Just because I agreed to come to this so-called party, it doesn't mean you get to paw me like some piece of meat.'
Scott had raised an eyebrow and lunged forward again, but she had slipped from his grasp and lashed out, slapping his face.
That was when he had stormed from the house, she had followed just wanting to get home and forget about the party and Scott bloody Clark.
Now, here she was, following in his wake as he sulked, his hands thrust into his pockets, shoulders hunched, his face had been ripped with fury as he told his mate how shit the party was before storming out.
Clara grimaced as the wind picked up speed, tugging at the umbrella, and right there and then she made a decision. The truth was she had only come tonight for something to do, she was well ahead with her schoolwork, and her mum had said it would do her good to get out for a bit, so she had accepted Scott's invitation but now regretted it big time. There had been plenty of older guys who had tried to get her to go out with them, but she knew enough to realise that older guys wanted more, and she had no interest in leaving school only to fall pregnant to someone simply because they had a car and a place of their own. No, she had plans to get on in life and those plans didn't include ''settling down'' to a world of nappies and crying babies.
Up ahead, Scott stopped and turned, and she suddenly realised that he might be the ''big I am'' at school, but in real life he was just a boy who wore too much product in his hair and hit the sunbeds.
'Are you coming or what!?' he bellowed.
Clara didn't bother with a reply, just kept her stride even as she walked through the rain.
'Jesus, Clara, come on, I'm getting pissed wet through here!'
'Should have brought your own umbrella then,' she mumbled to herself as she took her time closing the gap.
By the time she reached him, he looked furious. 'Look at the state of me,' he complained.
'Well, you could have shared the umbrella, but you insisted on running off like a spoiled brat.'
'I didn't fucking run off,' he snapped grabbing the umbrella from her hand to hold it above his own head.
'Last of the gentlemen,' she said with a sad shake of her head.
'Get under here and stop complaining,' he scowled at the insult before wiping the rain from his face with the back of his hand.
'Hey, if the rain bothers you so much then you're welcome to it,' she replied before walking past him, the wind tugging at her long hair, the rain lashing down.
Scott watched in shocked surprise as she walked away from him and, for a few seconds, he felt a stab of guilt as he stood shivering beneath the umbrella, and then the anger was back as he set off after her.
Clara lengthened her stride, she cared nothing about the rain, but she didn't want to have to listen to Scott whingeing every step of the way.
When she felt him arrive at her side, she sighed and ignored him.
'Everyone knows you're nothing but a slag,' he suddenly snapped, his voice petty and full of spite.
When the car drove by, Clara pushed the wet hair from her eyes, her anger starting to build at the insult. Coming to a halt, she glared at Scott who continued to shelter beneath the umbrella.
'Let me guess, you're going to start spreading rumours about me saying I was either a great shag or a prick tease?'
'Too fucking right,' he snarled before turning and striding into the rain.
Clara looked up, letting the falling rain cool her anger as another car drove past, the tyres sending a spray of water into the air that splashed all
down the side of Scott Clark's jeans. 'What the fuck!' he shouted as the car carried on before coming to a halt about fifteen feet from where Scott stood dripping wet through.
'Oh, you total bastard!' he strode towards the vehicle, his shoulders hunched against the driving rain. The day had turned out to be completely shit, first Morgan had said she would be there and then she had let him down – and as far as he was concerned it was over between them – and then the party had been a load of crap, and Clara had turned out not to be a tart after all, and now this.
Reaching the passenger door, he leaned down, glaring into the car, and then his eyes widened.
Clara watched as the passenger window slid down and Scott stepped back, dropping the umbrella, both hands rising into the air.
The wind blew, and Clara frowned, then there was a loud bang and Scott Clark was flung back, his arms outstretched, his product-laden hair now red and grey as his skull shattered, spewing a gout of blood and brains into the wet air, the umbrella caught the howling wind and blew towards where Clara stood as Scott slammed to the ground, his whole body going into spasm.
Clara gasped, her eyes locked on Scott, the blood and brains washing away as the rain hammered down, then instinctively she spun around and started to run into the darkness.
The passenger window slowly rose, the reverse lights came on and then the car was speeding backwards. She could hear the roar of the engine, and then the vehicle sped past and came to a stop. Clara Bell staggered to a halt as the driver's door opened and the man stepped out, his face hidden by shadow, the hoodie he was wearing making it impossible to see his features clearly.
She stood in the rain, tears of shock and horror running down her face, when the man moved around the car and she saw the shotgun in his hand, she fell to her knees on the rain-soaked pavement.
Bowing her head, she started to shake, her mind unable to comprehend what had happened, the terror filling her completely.
She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and jerked, the hand tightened, and she was snatched upright, then the man was pushing her towards the car. Deep inside she screamed but it never left her mouth, the horror paralysing her, and then she was thrust onto the back seat of the car, and still she was unable to do anything to stop the inevitable.
Seconds later, the man slumped down behind the wheel, she heard the central locking click into place and then the car pulled away from the kerb. She turned to see Scott sprawled on his back, his face was gone, his head demolished, and at last she found her voice and screamed aloud.
The man behind the wheel ignored her completely as he drove away, his lips curled in a small smile of satisfaction.
23
Lasser blinked into the semi-darkness as the tap came at the bedroom door, turning over, he groaned as the tap came again – louder this time.
'Lasser, you need to get up right now,' Bannister hissed.
Lasser felt Jackie stir as he slipped from the bed and crossed to the door.
Opening it, he saw Bannister standing there dressed in his suit, his unbrushed hair sticking out to the right.
'What's the problem?' Lasser asked.
'There's been a shooting, we need to leave right now.'
'''A shooting''?'
'Yes, bang, bang, you're dead,' Bannister replied in a whisper to avoid disturbing Jackie.
Suddenly Lasser was wide awake. 'Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed.'
'OK, but get your skates on,' Bannister said as he walked away along the narrow passage.
Turning, Lasser saw Jackie sitting up, and then she clicked the small bedside light on and looked at him, a hint of concern in her eyes.
'Someone's been shot?' she asked.
Lifting his clothes from the chair, Lasser started to get dressed. 'That's what he said, but I don't know any more than that.'
Swinging her feet to the floor, she stood up and grabbed a sweatshirt before shrugging it on, quickly followed by a pair of jogging pants, by the time she had finished Lasser was thrusting his tie into the pocket of his trousers.
Moving around the bed, she gave him a hug. 'Just be careful out there.'
'Always,' he said before opening the door, they walked along the narrow passage to find Bannister waiting in the kitchen area.
'What else do we know?' Lasser asked lifting his waterproof jacket from the back of the chair.
'Not much, Odette called about five minutes ago, the victim is male, young and was found on Castle Hill.'
'How young?' Jackie asked.
Lasser glanced at the DCI knowing that if he had been the one to ask the question then Bannister would have flung out some caustic remark, but it was Jackie who posed the question, so he kept his response civilised.
'To be honest, Jackie, I'm not sure, but we have to move on this right now.'
'Of course, but give me one second,' she said before hurrying back to the bedroom.
'What's she doing?' Bannister asked.
'Probably getting you a coat.'
'A coat?' Bannister frowned.
Before Lasser could reply, Jackie reappeared and, sure enough, she held a black Berghaus jacket in her hands.
'Take this, Alan, the weather's awful and you need to keep dry.'
Bannister smiled and nodded as he slipped his arms into the sleeves and shrugged it on. 'Thanks, Jackie, I'll make sure you get it back.'
Lasser winked at her, and she watched as they hurried along the boat and went out into the wind and rain, then the whippet came wandering out of the bedroom, her tail wagging.
Reaching down she stroked the dog's ear, her face thoughtful as the wind blew around the boat, the rain battering at the windows.
24
James Pence took a sip from the coffee cup, the headache was still thundering behind his eyes a blistering pain that he couldn't seem to shift. Placing the cup on the breakfast bar, he rubbed at his eyes before heading over to one of the cupboards on the wall. Opening the door, he grabbed the plastic bottle of paracetamol and unscrewed the lid before tipping three into the palm of his hand. Fumbling the lid back on, he closed the door and picked up the coffee, taking a mouthful before swallowing the tablets, his face twisted into a grimace at the powdery aftertaste.
The pain had woken him early, and now he watched as the rain hammered at the window, daylight slowly seeping into the room, it was going to be another bad day, wind, rain and the whispered gossip after his meltdown the day before.
With a sigh he tentatively massaged his temple with his fingertips, he had no idea why he had lost the plot and bellowed at Robert, the truth was the business was solid and yet the thought that it could all unravel was still there planted deep in his brain and…
When the hallway light flicked on, he frowned as he saw Morgan's bare legs coming down the stairs.
Seconds later, she appeared in the doorway and looked at her father in surprise.
'You OK?' he asked placing the cup on the worktop.
'What are you doing down here?' she asked, ignoring his question as she pulled out a chair and sat down.
'I have a headache, it woke me up,' he admitted. 'What about you?'
'Couldn't sleep,' she mumbled.
Finishing the coffee, he placed the cup in the sink. 'That's not like you, normally we have to wake you to get you out of bed.'
Morgan glanced at her father, and he saw the upset on her face, the skin beneath her eyes looked puffy as if she'd been crying.
'Are you feeling all right?' he asked.
'Yeah, I'm fine,' she replied before looking away.
The wind and rain lashed at the kitchen window as James folded his arms.
'Well, you don't look ''fine'', I mean, are things OK at school?'
'Course they are,' she snapped, her hands locked together on the top of the table.
Walking around the breakfast bar, he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite his daughter. 'Well obviously something's bothering you.'
'Nothing's ''bothering'' me,' she said lowering
her head.
'Look, Morgan, you know you can always tell me or your mother anything,' he said with what he hoped was a smile of encouragement and understanding.
'I've already told you there's nothing wrong with me.'
'I may be your father but that doesn't make me stupid, you're upset about something and…'
'Just leave it, will you!?' her head snapped up, her eyes flaring in anger.
James Pence's head throbbed and suddenly his own anger flared along with a spike in the pain. 'Suit your fucking self,' he snarled as he shot to his feet, the sudden urge to reach out and crack his hand across her face was all-consuming.
He saw the look of shock in her eyes, her mouth making an O shape as he spun away and stormed back to the kitchen sink.
Morgan was lost for words; she had never heard her father swear before and she looked at his back swallowing the sense of unease. She had spent the night on her bed tossing and turning, dreading what the morning would bring, but she had never imagined this, she had been more concerned with what Scott would say when she got to school. Her mind had been full of torment and in the end, not being able to settle, she'd come downstairs for a drink and yet now, she felt the shock of her father's spat words and the look of fury in his eyes. He remained over by the sink facing the window, his hands planted on the worktop, she could sense the anger coming from him in dense waves that seemed to sweep towards her.
Rising slowly, she edged towards him, the uncertainty pushing at her mind as she came to a stop.
'Dad,' she whispered. 'Are you OK?'
For a few seconds he didn't move, and then he slowly lifted his hands and placed them on either side of his head clamping them tight to his skull.
Suddenly, the air seemed to vibrate, and her hands went to her mouth, her eyes wide as she waited for him to respond with bated breath.
Then he suddenly turned, and she caught a brief glimpse of the pain in his eyes, he didn't even look at her as he strode across the room, and then his legs seemed to just collapse, and she gasped as he pitched forward, his hands still holding onto his head as he slammed to the floor.
Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021) Page 9
