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

by Rob Roughley

  ‘Don’t you fucking lie for her,’ she took another step towards him, her blue eyes sparkling with malevolence. ‘Now where has she gone and who is she with?’

  Metcalf placed his hand on the banister, blocking her path. ‘I don’t know what’s gone on between you two but I am telling you it stops now.’

  ‘What gives you the right to tell me anything, I don’t have to listen to the likes of you.’

  Metcalf swallowed, trying to keep a tight rein on his blossoming anger. ‘You do when it comes to our Zoe.’

  For a microsecond, he saw the hurt and bewilderment bleed into her eyes and then it vanished as if it had been nothing more than an illusion. ‘What about me?’

  ‘I love you, Jo, but I’ll not have you kicking off. Zoe doesn’t need it right now, she’s got enough on her plate.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Metcalf sighed, wondering how two kids could look so much alike, share the same genes, and yet be so different. ‘Look, she’s trying to come to terms with her best mate going missing and...’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Jodie came down the last couple of steps until she was standing right in front of her father, her face pale apart from where his hand had branded her.

  ‘Kelly Ramsey.’

  Jodie blinked twice, as if her eyes were no more than the shutters on a camera capturing the image for prosperity. ‘What about her?’

  Metcalf ran a hand across his scalp, microscopic flakes of sawdust drifted to the floor. ‘You mean she hasn’t told you?’

  ‘Told me what?’

  ‘Kelly Ramsey was the girl who went...’

  ‘I fucking know that, but what does it have to do with Zoe?’

  ‘They knew one another; Zoe was there on the night of the prom, the night Kelly disappeared. I mean, I know you two are in touch, so I thought she must have told you.’

  Jodie drew in a sharp breath and straightened her shoulders, her face unreadable. ‘Move.’

  ‘Come on, Jo, don’t leave it like this. I want everyone to...’

  ‘Move now.’

  ‘I...’

  She moved so fast that her father didn’t even register that she had moved at all, though he felt her foot slam between his legs well enough. Jodie skipped over his jack-knifed body as he lay on the hallway floor, hands clasped between his legs, the veins in his neck standing out as he twisted to look up at her. She leant down and spat full into his writhing face, saliva slithered down his bloody cheeks, mingling with the tears of pain and regret. Turning, she headed outside into growing gloom, stalking away from the house her face set with determination.

  93

  Christy Reynolds was a stunner, golden hair tied back in a tight ponytail and even dressed in a baggy pair of joggers with a paint-spattered top she would have turned heads. She looked at Lasser with a slight frown on her otherwise perfect face.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow you?’ she said.

  Lasser stood up; Medea remained in the chair like a guest waiting to be served a cold glass of Pimms at the poolside. ‘I mean, you are friends of the Ramseys?’

  Her frown deepened. ‘Well, yes of course...’

  ‘So why haven’t you been to see her, you live less than twenty yards away..?’

  ‘I hardly think that’s any of your business...’

  ‘You’ve spent time together, had barbecues,’ he paused and tossed a small hand grenade. ‘Got stoned together...’

  Christy tilted her head as if she hadn’t heard him properly. ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘So, why haven’t you been to see her, her daughter’s missing...’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’

  ‘Her husband died under mysterious circumstances...’

  ‘But Jonathan drowned....’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Lasser snapped and took a step towards her.

  She looked at him and then at the woman sitting in the recliner, as if they were squatters refusing to vacate the premises. ‘Nobody told us, we just assumed.’

  ‘But you didn’t think to come across the road and find out, you didn’t consider checking up on how your friend was coping with all this?’ he spread his arms wide; he could see a flush of anger rising in her cheeks and ploughed on. ‘Tell me, Christy, exactly what kind of friend are you?’

  ‘How dare you judge me, you don’t know the first thing about me?’

  ‘What about your husband, what’s his excuse for staying away, busy day at the office, too tired to give a fuck?’

  Christy looked uneasy, as though it was slowly dawning on her that this police officer could be mentally unstable, a rogue cop. ‘Look, what are you actually doing here, I told you Suzanne wasn’t in and now you stand there...’

  ‘How well do you know Kelly?’

  For a moment, she looked confused as if she found the question puzzling. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Kelly Ramsey, remember her, the missing daughter of your so-called friend?’

  Medea watched as he jabbed out a finger; he gave all the appearances of being furious, his chest thrown out, his face rigid, his dark eyes never flickered, never left Christy Reynolds face. He was goading her, trying to push her buttons, trying to get a response, Medea swallowed, suddenly glad that she wasn’t on the receiving end.

  ‘I...’

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know what goes on behind these fancy iron gates.’ Lasser spat.

  Christy took a backward step, her eyes flitting nervously between the two. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Lasser barked out a sarcastic laugh. ‘Come off it, all this space all this privacy, sitting here with your fancy friends drinking fancy bloody wines and smoking the best draw...’

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth, you...’

  ‘I bet it must have been agony for Jonathan living next door to someone like you. I bet it drove him to despair!’

  Medea snapped her head away and bit at her bottom lip. Part of her wanted to leap from the chair and run from the garden, another part wanted to plug her fingers deep into her ears. Though ultimately she found she could do neither, instead she sat there in the expensive lounger, in some strangers garden and listened transfixed as Lasser’s words cut like a scalpel.

  ‘I don’t have to listen to this!’ Christy snatched at the handle of the gate and dragged it open.

  ‘How old are you, Christy?’ his voice suddenly altered, the tone conversational; all the anger slipped away leaving a silence that thrummed as if charged with electricity.

  The woman with the golden hair hesitated by the gate. ‘I don’t see what...’

  ‘Twenty-two, twenty-three?’

  Christy frowned. ‘If you must know I’m twenty one.’

  ‘Did you know that Jonathan had been having a number of affairs with younger women, women younger than Suzanne that is?’

  Christy glanced at the dark haired woman just to verify that she wasn’t an illusion, then she swivelled her gaze bask to Lasser. ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘You don’t sound surprised.’

  ‘That’s because it’s none of my business what people do.’

  ‘But Suzanne’s a friend, are you seriously telling me she never confided in you?’

  Christy grabbed her ponytail and rung it between her hands. ‘We never talked about anything like that.’

  Lasser pursed his lips. ‘You know, some of these girls were not that much older than his own daughter.’

  Christy let go of the handle and the gate sprang shut. ‘Look, what’s all this got to do with me? Like I said, we are friends of the Ramseys but if you’re asking if anything was going on between us then the answer is no.’

  Lasser dragged out his cigarettes, clocking the look of disgust on her face as he lit up. ‘So, Jonathan never tried it on with you, was never inappropriate?’ he saw her eyes flick to the left before locking back on his face.

  ‘Never.’

  Lasser smiled and looked her up and down. ‘Forgi
ve me, Christy, but I find that very hard to believe.’

  She shrugged. ‘Believe what you like.’

  ‘Suzanne’s already told us about the nights Kelly slept over at her friend’s house and you four would get together,’ he paused, making quotation marks with his fingers, ‘to relax.’

  A spark of anger spluttered in her eyes. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Though she was adamant you never indulged when Kelly was in the house, which is kind of refreshing in this day and age.’

  ‘I’m telling you, nothing happened between me and him, it was...’ she clamped her lips together and suddenly spun away, her hand reaching for the handle again.

  Lasser strode across the patio and slammed it shut with the flat of his hand, blocking her exit. ‘What were you going to say?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she looked away unable to meet his gaze. ‘Now, please get out of the way.’

  ‘If it wasn’t Jonathan, then who was it?’

  She tried to reach around to grab the handle but he took a step to the side cutting off her escape route. Christy glared at him for a moment and then her shoulders sagged. ‘Look, I told Jonathan all about it...’

  ‘Well now you can tell me?’

  Her hands dropped to her sides. ‘It was Kelly who made a pass at me, there, are you satisfied. Now, will you please get out of the way?’

  Lasser could see Medea looking wide-eyed, her bottom lip taking a battering.

  ‘So, Kelly tried it on, is that what you’re saying?’

  She nodded and released a deep sigh. ‘I told Jonathan because I thought it might help you find her.’

  ‘Yes well, he didn’t pass the information on.’

  ‘That isn’t my fault,’ she snapped. ‘I did what I thought was right.’

  Lasser tilted his head and blew smoke over the garden gate. ‘What about your husband?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I take it you told him about Kelly?’

  ‘Well yes, of course I did.’

  He flicked the ash towards a plant pot full of summer blooms. ‘Was it his idea or yours to tell Ramsey about what had gone on?’

  She frowned, a tiny bead of sweat glistened on her top lip. ‘Nothing had ‘gone on,’ as you put it. I am not in the habit of seducing schoolgirls.’

  ‘That’s admirable but you still haven’t answered the question?’

  She sighed in exasperation. ‘I told Steven after I tried to explain to Jonathan...’

  ‘How did Ramsey take the news?’

  ‘Naturally he was upset,’ she shrugged, her breasts rose and fell. ‘But I think in the end he understood there was nothing behind it. Like I told him, Kelly went to a girl’s school so it was hardly a surprise to me.’

  Lasser saw Medea rise to her feet, her face dark with disbelief.

  ‘One more thing, Christy?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘How old is your husband?’

  She dragged down the sleeves of her sweatshirt until her hands disappeared from view. ‘He’s forty-three, though...’

  ‘Quite an age gap.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘He’s a young forty-three, is that what you’re saying?’

  She folded her arms. ‘I’m saying it’s none of your business.’

  Lasser slid towards her; he could smell her perfume, heavy and expensive. ‘Goes to the gym does he, likes to keep himself fit?’

  ‘There’s no crime in looking after yourself, you should try it sometime.’

  Lasser threw her a switchblade smile. ‘It sounds as if your husband and Jonathan Ramsey had quite a lot in common.’

  She thrust her hands onto her hips. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

  He flicked the cigarette stump onto the greener than green lawn. ‘It seems as if they both had a thing for the younger woman.’

  ‘The difference is, I’m married to Steve and he doesn’t need to go looking elsewhere for a younger model.’ It was said with utter confidence, the thought that she could ever lose out to another woman was preposterous, unthinkable.

  Overhead the skylark started to sing again.

  ‘Are you sure about that, Christy?’

  ‘You think I can’t compete with a sixteen...’ she paused as she realised her mistake, looked away the colour flushing her face.

  Lasser sidled in closer, his voice no more than a whisper. ‘How old were you when you got together with Stevie boy?’

  For the first time he saw a genuine look of fear cross her face. ‘Are you going to move or do I have to start screaming?’

  Lasser shrugged. ‘Scream all you want but don’t expect the neighbours to come running, they tend to keep to themselves around here.’

  She took a backward step. ‘I’ll ring the police.’

  ‘Here, use mine,’ he thrust his mobile towards her and she took another step back as though he were pointing a loaded gun at her. ‘Now how old were you?’

  ‘Nineteen,’ her tongue flicked across her glossy lips.

  ‘Liar!’

  ‘Look, just...’

  ‘How old?’

  Christy threw a pleading look towards Medea, as if she expected a fellow female to come to her aid, sisters unite, Medea looked away.

  ‘I was eighteen,’ she mumbled.

  Lasser shook his head. ‘Why do people like you always find it so hard to tell the truth?’

  ‘Why do people like you always find it so hard to believe the truth?’ she hissed in response.

  ‘Because in my experience you only get all this by fucking people over and I never ever trust a man who thinks it’s OK to fuck a child.’

  He heard Medea gasp, Christy staggered back into the garage wall.

  ‘You know nothing, Steve isn’t like that!’ her voice quivered with shock and fury.

  ‘I wonder if Kelly Ramsey would agree with you.’

  Christy flew at him.

  94

  She looked like a teletubby standing on the doorstep in her pale green onesie, her straw-like blond hair piled up high on top of her oddly shaped head.

  ‘You don’t look like a copper,’ she looked him up and down with suspicion.

  Bannister yanked out his warrant card and shoved it towards her.

  The woman flapped a hand at him. ‘It’s no use showing me that, I’m blind without my specs.’

  ‘Can you tell me if Jodie Moss lives here?’ he asked through gritted teeth.

  ‘She does but she isn’t in.’

  ‘Are you her mother?’

  The woman grimaced. ‘I am, though you’d never guess it with the way she treats me.’

  Bannister slid the warrant card back into his pocket. ‘Do you have any idea when she’ll be back?’

  ‘You never know with our Jodie, she could turn up any minute or I might not see her for days on end.’

  ‘I take it she has a boyfriend?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue,’ she dipped a hand into the oversized baby grow and pulled out a packet of dodgy foreign cigarettes. ‘She never tells me about her love life.’

  Bannister closed his eyes for a second, trying to steady his frustration. ‘Do you mind if I come in for few minutes?’

  He heard the rasp of a match and opened his eyes to see a cloud of smoke drifting towards him.

  ‘Look, what’s this about? I mean, our Jodie hasn’t been in trouble with you lot for ages.’

  ‘What makes you think she’s in trouble now?’

  ‘Well you standing on the doorstep for one.’

  ‘Look, can I come in or not?’

  He watched as she peered at him, as if weighing up her options. ‘As long as you don’t try any funny business.’

  Bannister shuddered at the prospect. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Moss, you’re safe with me.’

  A look of disappointment flickered across her face. ‘Call me, Pauline,’ she tossed the cigarette past him onto the lawn, a thin trail of sparks flickered and died. Bannister followed her along the narrow hallway and i
nto a living room littered with empty pizza boxes and gossip magazines.

  ‘So, do you have any idea where she could be?’ he asked as he looked for somewhere to sit.

  The woman slumped into a lumpy armchair; she resembled a giant stuffed toy that had seen better days. ‘Not a clue,’ she wriggled in the seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. ‘So come on, what’s she meant to have done?’

  Bannister ignored the question. ‘You said she’d been in trouble with the police before?’

  ‘Oh, it was something and nothing, a bit of shoplifting and criminal damage,’ she made it sound as if both were acceptable everyday misdemeanours. In an area like this, he supposed she had a point.

  ‘And when was this?’

  She thought for a moment before answering. ‘Couple of years back, but she’s past all that now, I mean, she even has a job.’

  ‘In the gift shop at Haigh Hall?’

  ‘How do you know that?’ she asked with a frown.

  ‘Tell me, Pauline, how long has she worked there?’

  ‘Couple of months, but...’

  ‘And what was she doing prior to that?’

  Her face suddenly grew sour. ‘Before that she had the best job she was ever likely to get,’ she moved her bulk and the chair groaned. ‘I told her, why would you want to leave a place like that just to go and work in a bloody gift shop?’ she shook her head as if the whole thing was unfathomable.

  Bannister folded his hands behind his back. ‘What place are we talking about?’

  ‘I don’t know what it was called, but the bloke who owned it was one of these accountants, absolutely minted he was. I mean, he called for her once, you know to run her to work – and his car...’ she rolled her eyes and flapped her hands. ‘I tell you this street had never seen anything like it.’

  Bannister’s legs suddenly felt unsteady, he sank down onto the sofa his hands dangling between his legs.

  Pauline didn’t even notice, her mind still busy conjuring the image of the gleaming car. She’d felt a rush of pride as Jodie climbed into the leather interior, in her leather mini skirt. ‘I told her she’d be made for life in a job like that and then she jacked it in, just like that.’ she clicked her fingers to emphasise the point.