Tethered to the Dead: DS Lasser series volume three (The DS Lasser series. Book 3)

by Rob Roughley

  That was the reason why no one had come forward to report the girl missing, as far as her parents were concerned their daughter was having a quick jaunt around Europe before flying home to the nest.

  Lasser yanked out his phone.

  ‘Who are you ringing?’

  ‘Bannister.’

  ‘Please tell me what I can do?’ she whispered.

  Lasser looked at the woman, her face torn as if this latest segment of the puzzle was both horrific and yet somehow offered a strange lifeline.

  ‘Have you any idea where this flat is?’

  ‘No, but Jonathan...’ her face crumpled, at last the tears broke free.

  In all the commotion, she’d forgotten all about her dead husband, her mind conjured his image floating in the hot tub his pale hair tainted strawberry red.

  ‘What’s Jonathan got to do with it?’

  ‘He knew Sophie’s parents; her father owned a wine warehouse in Chester. Jonathan did his books, and before they left he helped them find the flat for her,’ she looked at Lasser in dismay. ‘He promised to keep an eye on her until she finished the term.’

  Lasser said nothing; instead, he pressed the call button and waited for his boss to answer.

  70

  ‘What the hell do you mean?’ Bannister snapped.

  Molder shuffled his feet nervously beneath the desk, a slow blush creeping across his face. They were sitting in his office; the fan in the corner turned up to full, cool air rippling through the doctor’s comb over.

  ‘It’s impossible to be certain, we found a rockery stone in the garden that had traces of Ramsey’s blood on it, but the stone hadn’t been moved, it was lodged solid into the earth.’

  ‘So it was an accident?’

  Molder looked uncomfortable. ‘Ramsey had consumed almost a litre of brandy; he falls and stuns himself on the rock, maybe he tried to make it back to the house and...’ When he saw the look on Bannister’s face, he suddenly stopped. ‘I know it doesn’t explain things fully, but those are the facts. I cannot be sure if someone slammed his head against the rock and carried him to the hot tub or whether he somehow stumbled and fell in.’

  ‘Stumbled, bloody stumbled! The wall of the tub is over four feet high, the cover is secured in three places by metal clasps, he couldn’t have just stumbled in, you moron.’

  Molder swallowed and kept his mouth closed.

  ‘Look, Doctor, saying you don’t know is not fucking good enough.’

  Molder’s eyes sprang open in shock.

  ‘I need to know what happened, this is meant to be your area of expertise, it’s all you bloody well do!’ Bannister bellowed.

  ‘So, you want me to make things up, is that what you’re telling me?’

  Bannister’s face twitched, the muscles in his jaw working as he tried to keep control. ‘I am asking you to be specific...’

  ‘But I have been,’ Molder whinged. ‘I’ve explained that I cannot in all honesty say if the man was murdered. Up to a point it looks accidental but I will admit that I can’t imagine how he got from the flowerbed to the tub.’

  ‘Well can you at least tell if the man drowned?’

  Molder nodded, relieved to be back on solid ground, ‘Definitely.’

  ‘The wound to the head, would it have been enough to kill him?’

  ‘Most certainly not, although he was obviously bleeding, the wound itself was rather superficial, but like I said, the large intake of alcohol would have impaired normal motor function.’

  Bannister eased back in the chair, perhaps it was as simple as that, Jonathan got royally pissed, using the booze as a relief from the stress; he falls into the rockery and cracks his head. Maybe getting into the water had seemed like a good idea at the time. Like a student, waking after a night on the tiles to find a traffic cone lodged on their head. People did bizarre things when drunk and Jonathan had had plenty of reasons to try to forget the here and now.

  He ran a hand over his face, he needed to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of his daughter would be there to torment him, lacerating his brain, stymieing any clarity of thought.

  ‘Shouldn’t you answer that?’

  Bannister blinked across the desk, his eyes slowly refocusing on Molder’s bird-like face. ‘What?’

  ‘Your phone.’

  Bannister slapped at his pockets the way a drunk will when trying to locate their front door key.

  ‘Where the hell is it?’

  ‘Try your inside pocket.’

  Bannister saw the look on the Doctor’s face; it was as if he were studying someone with the early onset of dementia. Dragging the mobile from his pocket, he snapped it open. ‘What do you want, Lasser?’

  Molder shuffled some papers on his desk, though his eyes remained fixed on Bannister.

  The DCI suddenly shot to his feet. ‘Where are you now?’

  Molder could hear a mumbled response and then Bannister was rushing for the door, without uttering a by-your-leave he slammed his way into the corridor, leaving the Doctor with a dilemma. He had no doubt that the man was ill in some way; problem was whom should he report it to. After half a minute, he reached for the phone.

  71

  Suzanne followed Lasser back to the station, as far he was concerned it was far from ideal, though he hadn’t wanted to simply drive off and leave her to her own devices, God knows what she might try and do. When Bannister had told him to get his arse into gear, Lasser had asked her to do the same. Thankfully, the station was quiet as they made their way to the DCIs office; Lasser rapped on the door and pushed his way in without waiting for a reply.

  Bannister was staring out of the window; hands clasped behind his back, when he turned, his eyes sprang open in surprise. ‘Suzanne!’

  ‘Have you found where Sophie was living?’ she asked, ignoring his shock.

  Lasser raised an eyebrow and slumped into an empty chair.

  ‘Not yet, though hopefully it shouldn’t take too long.’ Bannister replied as he moved away from the window.

  ‘Was she the girl you pulled out of the water?’

  Dragging the chair from his desk, he eased into it like an old man. ‘We can’t be sure of that at the moment...’

  ‘I could identify her.’

  ‘What?’

  Suzanne leaned forward across the desk. ‘I know what she looks like, let me see her, then you can be sure.’

  Bannister looked at Lasser who gave a slight shrug. ‘It sounds reasonable to me.’

  ‘Right, but before any of that I want you to tell me everything you can about the girl.’

  ‘Like I was telling the sergeant, she was a year older than Kelly, well almost two actually and she’d been her mentor from the time Kelly started at Claremont’s.’

  ‘So they were close?’ Bannister asked.

  ‘Very, I mean, Sophie is,’ she paused and screwed her eyes closed in torment. ‘Was a lovely girl and she treated Kelly like a sister.’

  ‘Did she ever stay over at your house?’

  She turned to look at Lasser. ‘Lots of times, in fact she came on a couple of family holidays with us.’

  ‘Sleepovers?’

  ‘Yes, yes, regularly.’

  ‘And what did they do on these sleepovers?’ Lasser watched as her face darkened; before she could spit out a reply, he lifted a hand. ‘I am not having a go, we just need to know, did they stay in, or go out, I mean, there must have been some kind of pattern.’

  Suzanne thought for a moment, composing herself. ‘Sometimes they’d go shopping in town, or go to the cinema, but they always arrived home before dark. I used to cook them a meal or if the weather was fine we’d light the barbecue and they’d relax in the,’ she paused and grimaced, ‘hot tub.’

  Bannister rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, as if getting ready to do some hard manual labour. ‘How many friends are we talking about or was it always just Kelly and Sophie?’

  ‘God, no, sometimes there could be half a dozen of them, on her
fifteenth birthday there were sixteen,’ a smile flickered across her face at the memory and then vanished.

  ‘Have you still got the albums?’ Lasser asked.

  Bannister glanced at him warily. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, maybe it might be worth letting Suzanne take a look.’

  ‘What albums, what are you talking about?’ she looked from one to the other, the atmosphere in the room crackled.

  Bannister sighed. ‘Kelly wasn’t the only girl that Brooks was following, we found three photo albums at his house, and...’

  ‘Show me!’ she snapped out her hand, like a stubborn child preparing to throw a tantrum if she didn’t get her way.

  Bannister opened a drawer and placed the first leather bound book on the desk. ‘Now listen, Suzanne, under normal circumstances...’

  ‘Shut up, Alan, these are not normal circumstances.’

  Lasser winced, considering they hadn’t been together for years she was doing a first rate impression of the nagging wife.

  Flicking to the first page, she immediately jabbed out a finger. ‘Charlotte Watkins.’

  Lasser stood up and leant over her shoulder. ‘Does she go to Claremont’s?’

  ‘She’s in Kelly’s year.’

  ‘And how long have they known one another?’

  ‘They started at the same time, her father owns a printing company and I think her mother runs a florist’s in Orsmkirk.’

  ‘So, they were friends from the first year?’ Lasser asked.

  Suzanne shook her head, her eyes fixed on the image. ‘Not really, it was in the third term that they became close, they both got picked to represent the school at hockey.’

  Bannister came around the desk and tentatively slid a hand onto Suzanne’s waist; she looked at him for a moment and then turned back to the book. Flipping another page, she stopped and leaned in closer.

  ‘I’m sure I’ve seen this girl before, but I can’t remember her name.’

  Lasser looked down and frowned. ‘This is the girl I saw Zoe Metcalf with about an hour ago.’

  ‘What’s her name,’ Bannister barked.

  ‘I don’t have a clue, they were coming out of the baths, but I’m pretty sure it was her.’

  ‘Is she a pupil at the school, Suzanne?’ Bannister’s voice was overflowing with urgency.

  ‘Definitely not.’

  The DCI scrubbed at his hair in frustration. ‘Well, was she at any of the sleepovers?’

  Suzanne tilted her head in thought. ‘I knew all of the girls who stayed over at the house, and she wasn’t one of them.’

  ‘Well, how do you know her?’ Bannister asked.

  She tapped her finger on the picture as if this simple act would somehow help her to remember. ‘I don’t know. I just know that I’ve seen her before.’

  ‘What about the others?’

  She straightened her shoulders and turned the page. ‘Emma Foster, she used to go horse riding with Kelly. But I don’t understand, I mean, why would this man have all these pictures of Kelly’s friends?’

  Bannister took his hand from her waist and placed it on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. ‘That’s what we have to try and find out.’

  Lasser cleared his throat. ‘Metcalf was adamant he never took Brooks anywhere near your house...’

  ‘So he says, but he must have been lying,’ she turned her haunted gaze towards him. ‘This pervert must have found out where we lived from someone and Metcalf is the only link.’

  Lasser pulled out his cigarettes; Bannister looked at him and then nodded. ‘Go ahead, Sergeant.’

  ‘You say all these girls are friends of your daughter’s?’

  ‘For God’s sake I’ve just told you that,’ she looked at Bannister in frustration as he eased her down into the chair.

  ‘Try to keep clam, Suzanne, I know this isn’t easy.’

  ‘Easy!’

  Lasser pulled on the cigarette and tried to concentrate. Brooks must have spent a lot of time following Kelly and by doing so he had latched onto her friends, picked them out for special attention. ‘Tell me, Suzanne, who was closest to Kelly?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Out of all of them, who would you say was her best friend?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? You need to be out there finding these girls and asking them if they know anything...’

  ‘We will, but I need you to answer the question.’

  Suzanne looked as if she were going to storm from the room, when she tried to stand Bannister placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Answer the man, Suzanne.’

  ‘Probably, Sophie, but...’

  ‘What about Zoe Metcalf?’

  ‘Yes, yes they’re good friends as well...’

  ‘And they’ve spent a lot of time together?’

  ‘Of course they have, that’s what friends do,’ she looked at Lasser as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of actually having a friend.

  ‘OK, then why are there no pictures of her, if she spent a lot of time with your daughter, why isn’t she in here?’

  The water cooler in the corner released a bubble of air and glugged for a couple of seconds before falling silent.

  ‘How am I expected to know the answer to that? Kelly has lots of friends...’

  ‘But these are the ones she’s closest to and yet Zoe isn’t amongst them.’

  Bannister folded across his chest. ‘What’s your point, Lasser?’

  ‘Kelly wasn’t the first girl he was interested in, it was Zoe.’

  Suzanne shot back to her feet, this time Bannister stayed in his chair as if he were suddenly incapable of moving. ‘Have you any idea what he’s talking about?’ she asked.

  Lasser looked for somewhere to flick his ash; in the end he opened the pocket of his jacket and tapped it inside, patting the material to ensure it didn’t ignite the mound of fluff buried at the bottom. Bannister sighed and shook his head.

  ‘Metcalf said, when he knew Brooks he was a decent man...’

  ‘Well he’s hardly going to admit he let a paedophile look after his young daughter is he?’ she snapped.

  Lasser tried to block her out, tried to concentrate. ‘I think Brooks became infatuated with Zoe, not Kelly.’

  ‘Oh, this is just so much rubbish,’ she glared at Bannister. ‘Is this what you do all day, sit around thinking up stupid conspiracy theories?’

  ‘I think...’Lasser tried to continue.

  ‘I don’t care what you think; none of this is helping my daughter...’

  ‘Shut up!’ Bannister sounded worn out, defeated, a man who could no longer function in any meaningful capacity.

  Suzanne looked at him wide eyed; even through the false tan Lasser could see the blush of anger creep over her face.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Let the man think, for God’s sake.’

  Her lips clamped together like a puckered arse. Bannister nodded at him to continue.

  ‘According to the headmaster of Hindley High, Brooks was a respectable, hardworking...’

  Suzanne snorted in disgust. ‘Are you trying to get me to feel sympathy for this man? Because if you are, then you’re one twisted individual...’

  ‘Metcalf said the same thing, back then he wasn’t the guy who hung around in the bushes. He was trying to cling onto some form of normality and I think when he was looking after Zoe Metcalf he was trustworthy...’

  ‘You can’t know that, how can you stand there and say something so...’

  ‘I think when Metcalf moved house is when Brooks started to go seriously downhill. We know the man had been suffering from long-term depression, and that’s why he had to give up the job in the first place. But Zoe is the link, I bet she was the one he was following and that’s how he came into contact with Kelly and the others.’

  ‘But we have no evidence of that, like you said Zoe isn’t in any of the albums, so if what you say is true then where are the photographs?’ Bannister asked.

  Lasser chewed at his
lip. ‘I don’t know, but she’s the link, you can bet on it.’

  ‘Bet on it, is that what you expect us to do?’ she looked at Lasser as if he were some kind of recently discovered life form living at the bottom of a primeval swamp.

  Lasser tried to keep calm, tried to ignore the look of bitter contempt that flashed from her eyes.

  ‘One,’ he snapped up a finger. ‘We know that Brooks spent time watching all these girls. Two, apart from the one you can’t name, the others all went to your daughter’s school. The only one who didn’t is Zoe Metcalf, she just happened to go to the same school that Brooks worked at.’

  ‘But he’d left well before she started, so that blows your little theory out of the water doesn’t it?’ Suzanne suddenly looked pleased with herself, as if she had caught a stupid child telling tall tales.

  ‘But he already knew who she was, because she used to live next door. Let’s say he didn’t see Zoe for a few years and then he spots her in the street and his head is so mixed up and his life so fucked that he latches onto her as a reminder of what he used to be like. When he was someone you could trust to babysit your neighbours little girl.’

  Suzanne looked at Bannister, aghast. ‘Are you going to sit there and listen to this?’

  Bannister ignored her. ‘Carry on, Sergeant.’

  ‘He starts to follow her, because just the sight of her makes him feel good, makes him think that there could be a chance for him to drag himself from the shit. Maybe there are no pictures of Zoe perhaps she was beyond that...’

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Look, Suzanne, Brooks put these girls on pedestals, he worshipped them. The man wasn’t interested in taking pictures of them for any sexual gratification. Though the one who started it all was too precious to be trapped in an image, she was his saviour...’

  ‘I don’t have to listen to the ramblings of an idiot.’ Suzanne picked her bag up from the floor and stormed towards the door.

  ‘And why are there no images of Rachael Sinclair?’