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

by Rob Roughley

  Cathy! He snatched it from his pocket, an unknown number flashed up at him. For a moment he considered simply ignoring it, there was a bottle of spiced rum in the house that had his name on it and... The phone stopped and then immediately started to ring again. With a sigh, he pressed the button and slapped it to his ear. Thirty seconds later, he was backing down the drive, the wheels screeching as he floored the gas.

  Keeping one eye on the road, he jabbed at the phone, at first, he thought that no one was going to pick up; he was just going to end the call when a voice drifted out of the mobile.

  Bannister sounded confused, his voice thick with sleep, as if he’d been dragged from a deep slumber and back into a world of pain.

  ‘Give me the address.’ Bannister snapped.

  Lasser eased off the gas and gingerly crept through the red traffic lights. ‘Over the canal bridge, half way up Skull House Lane, I’ll keep the car parked on the road, hazard lights on.’

  ‘I’ll be there in twenty.’

  The line went dead and Lasser bulleted past the hospital, the late night traffic was almost non-existent, apart from the occasional taxi and empty bus, the streets were deserted. He slid the window down, cool air buffeted the inside of the car, the steady whirr of the tyres as they ate up the ground droned into his head.

  Crossing the motorway bridge, he glanced down at the M6, a line of heavy goods vehicles rumbled away beneath it. Then a quick left, heading back out into open countryside, the smell of cow shit drifting in through the open window making him grimace.

  At the junction, he turned left and shot over the canal bridge, half a minute later he pulled up outside the house, slapped on the hazard lights, and climbed from the car. Looking up he saw Medea hurrying towards him across the lawn, the familiar shape of Mrs Foxtrot dangling onto her arm. When the old woman saw him, her face twisted, a look of fury bloomed in her watery eyes.

  ‘You!’

  ‘Mrs Foxtrot, Hannah...’

  ‘You pig, this is your fault!’

  Medea looked at the woman stunned by the vitriol in her voice. Hannah snatched herself free and jabbed out a finger. ‘You lied to me, you said Christopher was your friend and then you sneaked around the house like a common criminal!’

  Medea shook her head as understanding dawned. ‘You were the one who went into the house?’

  ‘Look, I can explain all that later, but for now will one of you tell me what’s happened?’

  Medea glanced at the house and swallowed, her face milk white with shock. ‘I think he’s dead.’

  Hannah wailed, her fingers pulling at her blue rinse.

  ‘Stay here’ Lasser strode across the grass, the security light blinked off and then back on again.

  ‘I blame you for this, you awful man!’ Mrs Foxtrot screamed her voice surprisingly loud in the darkness.

  Lasser sighed, he should have been at home in bed with Cathy, phone switched off while they made love, washing away all the pain of the past few months, and yet here he was being harangued by a pensioner at half ten at night in the middle of nowhere.

  ‘Look through the letterbox!’ Medea’s voice sounded strained.

  Pulling out his small Maglite, he climbed the steps and flicked it on. Taking a deep breath, Lasser lifted the flap and shone the light through the narrow slot. There was blood everywhere, like a Jackson Pollock painting; the white walls were drenched in red. He could see a pair of jean clad legs stretched out on the crimson carpet, the butcher shop smell wafted out to meet him. Crouching lower the beam of light travelled down the long hallway, he could see bloody footprints leading off into the kitchen. Easing the flap closed he turned and headed back onto the garden.

  Hannah threw him a look of utter contempt. ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘Mrs Foxtrot, I want to apologise, what I did was out of order, but...’

  ‘People like you disgust me, he was a good man, a decent man, and you drove him to this, you and your lies...’

  Lasser took a forward step, ‘If you’ll just let me explain?’

  She turned away. ‘Disgust me!’ she hobbled back towards the bushes and vanished for a few seconds before reappearing in her own garden. Medea watched as she stumbled and then righted herself before climbing the steps to her house, the door closing quietly behind her.

  As soon as she was gone, she spun towards him, her eyes illuminated with revulsion. ‘You really are a bastard aren’t you, taking advantage of her good nature, abusing her.’ Medea looked as if she were ready to spit at his feet. Lasser pulled out his phone and rang the station, all the time he could feel her eyes boring into him.

  ‘Meadows, it’s Lasser, I need the SOCO team out ASAP...’

  She turned away, shaking her head, poor Mrs Foxtrot, poor Christopher. She hiccupped, and rubbed a shaking hand across her eyes, the taste of bile felt sour on her tongue. Glancing at the front door she quickly looked away, feeling clammy and sick. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the hallway decked out like some psychedelic nightmare.

  In the distance, she spotted the swirling blue lights of a police car, it disappeared in a dip in the road, and then the headlights were glaring like twin suns bearing down on her. Medea looked away, tiny lights dancing before her eyes. Then the car was pulling onto the gravel driveway, the lights died, and the man she had seen at the school climbed out, only now he looked older, dark circles seemed to have taken up permanent residence beneath his dead eyes. Lasser was still talking on the phone, one finger rammed into his ear, his eyes fixed on the man as he strode towards him.

  ‘What have we got, Lasser?’

  His voice sounded as drained as he looked.

  ‘Body in the hallway, Miss Sullivan found him.’ Lasser nodded towards her, Bannister looked over his shoulder, his face grim.

  Lasser continued to talk into the mobile. ‘Yes, Meadows, get Molder out here, OK, OK well try Shannon.’

  Bannister frowned and then tried to smile. ‘Could I have a word, Miss Sullivan?

  Medea stepped over the flowerbed and walked over. ‘First of all I want you to know that this man’s behaviour has been deplorable.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘He fooled the old lady next door into letting him into the house and she’s distraught...’

  Bannister held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry Miss Sullivan, but I am not interested in that at the moment, what I want to know is what you were doing here?’

  She looked at Bannister as if she already had him pegged as morally redundant, another power-crazed individual who thought nothing of flaunting the law when it suited. ‘I’m sorry, that’s not good enough, whatever’s happened in there, this man bears some of the responsibility.’

  Lasser snapped the phone shut and slid it into his pocket.

  ‘Right well, I’ll bear that in mind, now can you please answer my question?’

  Medea swept a hand through her lush dark hair. ‘I was concerned, Christopher hasn’t been in school for the last couple of days and no one has been able to get in touch with him. Plus if you must know, he’s been helping me with my dissertation,’ she paused, her eyes narrowing, ‘and you can take that look off your face. I’ve already told him that there was nothing going on between us, but it seems as if you lot have trouble believing the truth.’

  Lasser could see Bannister trying to hold it together, his cheeks ballooned, and then he released the breath in a long thin sigh. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Miss Sullivan, but we all have a job to do and...’

  ‘So lying and cheating is part of the job description for a police officer, is that what you’re telling me?’

  Bannister looked at his feet, his shoulders rising and falling, hands clasped tightly in front of him. ‘Look, I am well aware that Sergeant Lasser has been in the property, and considering the circumstances I applaud him for using his initiative.’

  Lasser looked surprised; Medea appeared outraged. ‘I cannot believe I am hearing this, I...’

  ‘Come with me, Sergeant.’ Banniste
r started toward the front of the house, Lasser raised an eyebrow at her and followed.

  ‘Excuse me, but I haven’t finished!’

  ‘Wait there, Miss Sullivan, I’ll get to you shortly!’ Bannister shouted over his shoulder.

  When they reached the door, Lasser handed the torch over and Bannister crouched down and lifted the flap before peering inside. He grunted and then shone the torch left and right through the narrow slot. After thirty seconds, he stood up and flicked off the beam.

  ‘Fulcom?’

  ‘It seems more than likely.’

  ‘Bastard,’ Bannister rubbed at his chin. ‘Have you tried around the back?’

  ‘Not yet, I kind of had my hands full,’ he nodded to where Medea stood, hands on hips, watching them both closely.

  ‘I bet you did.’

  ‘Do you want me to take a look?’

  Bannister shook his head. ‘It’s pointless; whoever did this is long gone. We might as well wait until help arrives.’

  He followed Bannister as he lumbered down the steps and headed back to where Medea stood chewing anxiously on a fingernail, her eyes sparking with pent up fury.

  ‘Right, Miss Sullivan, it seems as if we got off on the wrong foot...’

  ‘I hardly think so; he used bullying tactics on an elderly woman, who is devastated by what’s happened. She feels responsible and all because she trusted him,’ she jabbed out a finger.

  Bannister stepped in close and it took all of Medea’s willpower not to take a backward step.

  ‘What you fail to understand, Miss Sullivan, is that we don’t have the luxury of time...’

  ‘But...’

  He loomed over her. ‘But nothing, we’re trying to catch a man who has already killed two people, three if you count the man in there,’ he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, his eyes iron hard.

  Medea couldn’t help but lick her lips, Three...?’

  ‘You don’t have children do you, Miss Sullivan?’

  ‘I fail to see what that has...’

  ‘Precisely,’ Bannister voice went up a notch. ‘You fail to see; well I suggest that you try opening your bloody eyes!’ with that, he turned and stormed towards his car.

  Media rocked back on her heels and then she seemed to shake herself, her face infused with anger. ‘I’ll not be spoken to like that,’ she took a step forward and Lasser grabbed her arm.

  ‘If you don’t want to spend the night in a cell I’d advise you to leave well alone.’

  She spun around snatching her arm free. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  Lasser looked up at the moon. ‘Look, I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of and believe me tricking Mrs Foxtrot comes high on that list. But like he said, we’re running short on time, we’re still trying to find Kelly Ramsey and like it or not that takes precedence over everything else.’

  ‘But...’

  She was cut off by the sound of sirens in the distance; a kaleidoscope of blue lights patterned the night sky. When she turned, Lasser was walking over to where Bannister sat hunched behind the wheel of his car.

  Half a minute later and the place was awash with men and women in high viz vests. Half a dozen officers headed around the side of the house, one of them had a huge German Shepherd on a lead, the animal straining at the leash. Four more stood on the lawn training torchlight’s over the front of the house, the static sound of radios crackled in the air.

  Another car pulled onto the packed drive and a short squat man clambered out, most of his features covered by a wild looking beard, spotting Lasser he raised a hand and headed over.

  Medea suddenly felt overwrought, tiredness seeped into her bones. She could see the familiar figure of Hannah Foxtrot framed in the window of the house next door, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Zipping up her jacket, she walked down the drive as a police officer wandered past carrying a heavy metal battering ram in his hands.

  ‘I want that door open, but no one goes in without my say so.’ Bannister threw her a cold look as he drew level. ‘It might be best if you wait on the pavement, Miss Sullivan.’

  ‘So I take it I’m not free to go?’

  ‘Why, do you have somewhere you need to be?’

  She opened her mouth to fire back a retort, but Bannister strode away leaving her weak with impotent rage.

  ‘I shouldn’t worry, sweetheart; he’s like that with everyone.’

  She turned, Lasser was standing with the man with the unruly facial hair his face split into a wide grin his teeth shining through the beard.

  ‘Yes, well, manners cost nothing,’ she spat.

  ‘I couldn’t agree with you more, but it’s the job you see, too much pressure, it affects the brain,’ he tapped a finger to the side of his head.

  Lasser hovered in the background looking uncomfortable.

  ‘And what’s his excuse?’ she pointed a shaking finger at Lasser.

  Shannon patted Lasser’s shoulder. ‘Salt of the earth this man, do anything for anyone.’

  With that, he headed towards the house, Lasser shrugged at her and followed.

  Medea jumped when she heard the sound of the heavy battering ram hitting the door, wood splintered and then it came again. Nerves shot, she turned away with tears in her eyes.

  75

  Rachael clicked a couple of sweeteners into her coffee, watching with indifference as Sinclair grabbed his briefcase from the floor, his hair usually pristine hair looked lifeless and flat, the bald spot catching the morning sun that sprayed in through the French windows.

  ‘You look tired, Paul,’ she said and then smiled when he threw her a look full of nervous tension.

  Sinclair popped open the briefcase and rummaged through some papers.

  ‘I said you look...’

  ‘I heard what you said, Rachael,’ he snapped and then immediately turned away when he saw the look on her face.

  She stirred her coffee with deliberate slowness. ‘Is something bothering you, would you like me to kiss it better?’ her voice was thick with ridicule.

  Snapping the catches on the case, he turned to look at her. ‘Fulcom’s dead and you sit there as if nothing’s happened.’

  Rachael shrugged. ‘So, what do you think my reaction should be, do you expect me to somehow feel sorry for the man; is that what you’re telling me?’

  He tried to hold her gaze and found it impossible. ‘Does none of this bother you?’ he mumbled.

  Picking up her cup, she took a sip, her blue eyes regarding him with disdain. ‘Why should it bother me, Christopher Fulcom was a pervert, but you didn’t see that did you?’ she tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. ‘To you he was an OK guy, but then again you would think that.’

  ‘I don’t have time for this,’ Sinclair snatched up his briefcase and strode towards the kitchen door, his loafers squeaking on the polished tiles.

  ‘You’re both so alike, but the sad thing is, I don’t think you even realise it.’

  Sinclair stopped and snapped back around to face her. ‘Don’t you dare say that, I am nothing like that piece of filth,’ he drew in a sharp breath, head tilted toward the ceiling, the veins in his neck standing rigid. ‘I’ve looked after you and your useless mother for years, if it wasn’t for me you’d have nothing.’

  Rachael raised an eyebrow. ‘Really, that’s what you think is it?’

  ‘Come on, Rachael, stop fooling yourself, I mean, what kind of life would have been waiting for you if I hadn’t come along,’ he dropped the briefcase onto the floor and stormed towards her. ‘Do you think you’d be sitting in a house like this with money in the bank, do you think your wardrobe would have been full of designer clothes, the foreign holidays, the jewellery?’ He was shouting and he didn’t even realise it, blood infused his features, spittle flecked his thin lips.

  Rachael placed the cup on the table and looked up at him; he had his hands flat on the table top leaning towards her, his eyes full of rage.

  ‘And that’s what you believe?’
she asked.

  ‘That’s what I know, lady, that’s what I know,’ he hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest.

  When she flashed her perfect smile at him, Sinclair took a backward step, his anger faltering. ‘So let me see if I understand you, you’re saying that you somehow rescued me from a life of drug abuse and prostitution? Yet you’re the one who sniffs coke, Paul,’ she paused, ‘you’re the one who pays to have sex with me.’

  When she saw the shock slam onto his face, Rachael laughed aloud. ‘You should see yourself, looking all bemused, like a distressed puppy.’

  ‘I...I have no idea what you are talking about.’ The room suddenly seemed to shrink, his vision narrowing until all he could see was Rachael’s beautiful face shining back at him. ‘Look, if you want a lift to the shops then you’d better get your stuff, I’m...

  ‘Fuck the shops. You think I stay because I care for you in some way. All this ‘daddy will make it better’ shit, all your pawing, and clinging, the way you strut around like the cat that’s got the cream.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘With your pathetic clothes, thinking you look so special, so in charge and yet here you are paying to have sex with a schoolgirl.’

  Sinclair yanked at his tie. ‘I’ve told you I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about and you had better stop these stupid...’

  ‘Liar!’ she suddenly sprang to her feet, sending the stool clattering to the ground. It took all Sinclair’s nerve not to simply turn and dash for the door. ‘You think I don’t know about the money you hand over just so you can carry on playing out your pathetic little fantasies, with your shrivelled cock and bad breath.’