More Equal Than Others. The DS Lasser series. Volume five: Robin Roughley

by Robin Roughley

  'Sounds reasonable,' he agreed.

  'So how many families are we talking about?'

  Lasser shrugged. 'Well according to the trial there were three, but the Walsh family emigrated to Oz, so I guess they're out of the frame.'

  Susan took a sip of coffee from the polystyrene cup.

  Through the trees headlights flickered as a car approached, Lasser watched as a black BMW drove around the small car before coming to a halt at the far end. The taillights jittered for a moment before dying.

  'Well, whoever killed him must have really hated the man,' Susan said.

  'Trouble is we don't really know how he died yet. I mean, as far as we know he could have been tickled to death.'

  'Tickled to death!'

  Lasser scrunched up the bag before tossing it onto the back seat. 'No body, no clues.'

  The taillights on the BM flashed on and off, Lasser frowned before starting the car.

  'Bloody dogger's,' he mumbled darkly.

  Susan looked over her shoulder. 'Are you sure?'

  'Trust me this place is crawling with them after dark.'

  The interior light came on as the owner of the BM climbed out.

  Lasser watched as an elderly man opened the back door, a sandy coloured Labrador leapt out and cocked its leg against the rear wheel of the car.

  'You were saying?' Susan smiled.

  Lasser frowned. 'Maybe I'm losing my touch.'

  When the in-car phone began to flash, Lasser gave her the nod before reaching for his cigarettes, 'Answer that will you?'

  Reaching forward she slid the mobile from its charger before pressing the speaker button.

  'Lasser where are you?' Bannister barked.

  'Checking on some possible dogging activity, sir.'

  'Checking or joining in?'

  'I...'

  'Thirty five Park Road.'

  'What about it?'

  'I want you to get over there. Lucy Croft aged thirteen arrived home an hour ago in a state of hysteria. She was on her way home and decided to take a short cut through Skitters Woods.'

  'Silly girl,' Lasser piped up.

  'According to her, she was chased through the woods but she says that her would-be attacker was assaulted by a second man.'

  Lasser lit the cigarette before blowing smoke through the window, 'A second man?'

  'Don't make me repeat myself, just get over there, and check it out.'

  'Will do.'

  'ETA?'

  Lasser checked the clock on the dashboard. 'About thirty minutes.'

  'Make it fifteen,' Bannister snapped before hanging up.

  Susan looked at Lasser and raised an eyebrow.

  'Right, how do you fancy a ride? I can even put the flashing lights on if you like?'

  Susan shook her head, by the time she'd clipped her seatbelt into place, Lasser was driving off the car park.

  True to his word, he slapped on the blue lights. 'Sometimes I love this job,' he said with a smile.

  CHAPTER 8

  Bannister looked at the man sitting opposite and frowned, Steven Ray glared back at him.

  'I tell you I had nothing to do with it, but if you're asking me to feel sorry for the bastard then you can forget it.'

  Inwardly Bannister sighed. 'I can appreciate how you feel, Mr Ray.'

  'Bollocks!'

  PC Steve Black hovered near the door of the interview room, his hands locked behind his back, his face expressionless.

  'So can you tell me where you were three nights ago?' Bannister asked.

  'I've already told you, I was at work till five and then I went straight home.'

  'And you stayed home all night?'

  Ray leant forward in his seat and rested his elbows on the scuffed tabletop. 'Ever since that bastard attacked our Shelly we spend every night at home, inspector. She refuses to go out when it's dark, we have to take her to school in the morning and then either me or my wife pick her up, she has no friends, no fucking life thanks to that man.'

  'I...'

  'And to be honest, I'm disgusted you lot thought it ok to re-home a convicted paedophile less than fifteen miles from where we live!' Steven Ray's eyes bulged in anger, his lips flecked with spittle.

  'I'm sorry Mr Ray, but we really have no say in the matter.'

  Ray slumped back in his chair. 'Yeah well, he got what was coming to him didn't he?'

  'And you had nothing to do with it - right?' Bannister folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

  'That's right, but if you're asking me if I would have killed him, if I'd had the chance, then the answer is yes. I mean you have no idea what that man did to my family.'

  'Right well, thanks for your cooperation Mr Ray, we will of course be checking your alibi...'

  'Check all you bloody like but I had nothing to do with it, though when you find the man who did it, tell him thanks from me.'

  Bannister stood up. 'I'll be sure to remember that, Steven.'

  Ray pushed himself to his feet. 'So I'm free to go?'

  Bannister gestured towards the door. 'Be my guest.'

  Without uttering another word, Ray headed across the room; PC Black opened the door and watched as the man stormed along the corridor.

  'Well Black, what do you reckon?' Bannister asked.

  Steve Black looked at his boss in surprise. 'Well he doesn't seem like a nutter, sir.'

  Bannister dragged his jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on. 'Nevertheless, he's an angry man.'

  'That's hardly surprising given the circumstances.'

  Bannister nodded. 'Right, I'm heading out to Park Road, when they find Andrew Hartley I want to be informed immediately.'

  'Very good, sir.'

  Bannister stalked from the room, Black switched off the light before closing and locking the door.

  CHAPTER 9

  All the lights were on in thirty-five Park Road. Lasser eyed the close-cropped front lawn as he walked up the drive with Susan Coyle by his side.

  Ten yards from the door and it sprang open, a pale faced woman hovered in the doorway. She looked to be in her late thirties with shoulder length light brown hair, her eyes agitated behind a pair of designer glasses.

  'Mrs Croft?' Lasser asked as he approached.

  'Oh thank God you're here.' The woman stood back and Lasser stepped inside the house, he could smell spaghetti bolognaise wafting through from the kitchen.

  'Lucy's in a terrible state she's in her bedroom in hysterics.'

  Susan shuffled in through the door, Lucy Croft's mother took a final look outside as if terrified that they were being watched before closing it quietly.

  They followed her through into a spacious lounge with laminated floors, a cream coloured sofa sat in the centre of the room the flat screen television was on the volume muted.

  Lasser flipped out his warrant card. 'My name’s DS Lasser,' he gestured towards, Susan. 'This is PC Coyle.'

  The woman nodded hurriedly, her eyes flicked up to the ceiling and then back down again.

  'Now Mrs...'

  'Please call me Claire.'

  Lasser smiled. 'Right Claire, can you tell us what happened?'

  Picking up the remote, Claire snapped off the television. 'You have to understand Lucy's a good girl.'

  'I'm sure she is,' Lasser replied before sliding onto the sofa.

  Susan eased down by his side.

  Claire shuffled backward and dropped into a matching armchair. 'She should have been home by six. You see she'd been out in town with friends and when it got to half past I started to get concerned.'

  'So she was late?' Lasser asked.

  Claire looked distraught. 'I mean it's so unlike her, normally she's punctual...'

  'Tell me, does Lucy have a mobile?'

  Claire screwed her hands together; Lasser noticed the pale band of skin, third finger left hand.

  'Yes, but she forgot to charge it this morning and the battery died and she...'

  'So you tried ringing her?' Susan
asked.

  'Half a dozen times, I mean you start to think the worst, you keep trying, and when you get no answer...' Her voice drifted to a standstill.

  Lasser frowned at Coyle who raised an eyebrow in return.

  'So when she got home did Lucy tell you why she was late?'

  Claire blinked, Lasser watched as her eyes refocused. 'I'm sorry?'

  'I said did she explain why she was late?'

  'At first she couldn't say anything, she was crying and screaming, and I thought she'd been attacked,' Claire shuddered at the memory.

  'So when she calmed down what did she say?'

  'She said she'd lost track of time and when it started to go dark she panicked, and instead of sticking to the road, she'd taken a short cut through the woods.'

  'And someone followed her?'

  Claire nodded slowly. 'I thought maybe she'd got confused, I mean I've always told her to stay away from places like that.'

  For the first time, Lasser saw a look of anger flicker across Claire Croft's face.

  'So someone chased her through the woods but she managed to escape?'

  Claire took a huge shuddering breath. 'To tell you the truth I couldn't grasp what she was saying. She started talking about falling over, she said at first she didn't realise she was being followed, and then there was a third person there and she thinks the man who was chasing her started to scream.' She looked at them both in bewilderment.

  Lasser could feel the sunburn on his shoulders itching. 'I wonder if we could have a word with Lucy?' he asked.

  Once again, Claire looked up at the ceiling before slowly pushing herself to her feet. 'Give me a minute; I'll see what I can do.'

  Lasser threw her a smile of encouragement.

  CHAPTER 10

  The man dumped the bin bag into the boot of the car and slammed it shut before climbing behind the wheel. Checking his reflection in the rear view mirror, he frowned before wiping the speckles of blood from his cheek.

  Peeling off the gloves, he dropped them onto the passenger seat and turned the key, the Range Rover fired into life.

  The town centre was virtually deserted; even the hardiest of shoppers had decided to call it a day. Market Street lay strewn with rubbish, empty burger wrappers fluttered down the street. Another couple of hours and the pubs and clubs would be opening, gearing up for another night of drunken merriment.

  He drove along the one-way system, his hands placed at ten-to-two on the steering wheel, every few seconds his eyes would flick to the wing mirrors. Easing up at a set of traffic lights, he snapped on the handbrake and waited patiently. A couple of women in their early twenties strolled past the front of the car. Dressed for a night on the town, hair extensions bouncing as they walked, one of them glanced towards the car and smiled shyly. He tracked her and watched as the girl whispered something to her friend. As they reached the kerb they turned and then the second girl was laughing, her friend grabbed her arm and pulled her away, her face flushed with colour.

  The lights changed, dropping the handbrake, he flashed them a smile and pulled away.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled to a stop down a narrow back street before climbing out and making his way to the boot.

  Bin bag in hand, he strolled along the darkened pavement before entering the block of flats.

  Ignoring the lift, he made his way to the stairs and started to climb, oblivious to the stench of boiled cabbage and disinfectant. Reaching the third floor, the man pushed his way through a set of double doors and moved along the dimly lit corridor.

  The door of flat forty-seven was in need of a coat of paint, the number four dangled at an odd angle. Taking a step back, he slammed his boot into the door, the wood splintered, then he moved forward and barged his shoulder against the woodwork and the door clattered open.

  Hoisting the bag onto his shoulder, he stepped over the threshold like an evil Santa bearing gifts that no one would ever want to receive.

  Three huge strides and he stood looking into the tiny living space. The threadbare bed-settee unfolded on the floor; a grubby duvet lay scrunched in a heap, the room redolent with the reek of sweaty feet and cannabis.

  Picking his way across the cluttered floor, he glanced into the kitchen, the sink, and work surfaces littered with dirty pots and pans.

  His face remained impassive as he made his way down a narrow passageway; his nose telling him that behind the scarred door was the toilet. Lifting his right leg, he flicked the door handle down with his boot before tapping it open. The sink and bathtub were creamed with scum, a scattering of curly pubic hairs trapped in the grime.

  Dropping the bag into the bath, he ripped it open and emptied the contents into the avocado coloured tub. Both feet were still encased in the worn trainers, the white of the anklebone shone through the red pulp of flesh. The left hand curled into a fist, the right one open, its fingers stretching as if reaching for something forever unobtainable. The head rolled until it came to rest beneath the water stained taps. Reaching down, the man picked it up by the hair, grimacing at the greasy feel on his fingertips. Holding it up, he stared into the open eyes as blood and gore plopped into the bath. Turning, he dropped the severed head into the shit stained toilet bowl. Taking one last look at his handiwork before turning and heading from the flat, he didn't bother closing the door.

  CHAPTER 11

  Lucy Croft looked like a ten year old, slender, and fragile she sat on the huge sofa; her feet dangled six inches above the hard wood floor. Her mother sat by her side an arm placed protectively around her daughters narrow shoulders.

  Lasser tried a comforting smile, when he saw the look on Lucy's face he wished he hadn't bothered. She scuttled back on the sumptuous sofa before burying her head in her mother's shoulder.

  Susan Coyle looked at Lasser and frowned; he lifted his shoulders apologetically before giving her the nod.

  Placing her elbows on her knees Susan leaned forward. 'It's ok Lucy, we're here to help you,' she said sotto voiced.

  Lucy lifted her head; her eyes looked huge and filled with a remembered terror. 'I want my dad,' she whispered in a broken voice.

  Claire smoothed her hair down with a trembling hand. 'He's on his way, sweetheart.'

  'Lucy, can you tell us what happened in the woods?'

  The girl hitched in a breath and looked at Susan. 'I know I shouldn't have gone that way but I was late and I didn't want my mum to worry.'

  Susan nodded; Lasser eased back into the sofa.

  'So you were taking a short cut so you could get home sooner?' Coyle asked.

  Lucy wiped her eyes and nodded. 'We'd been in the park and I lost track of time.'

  'You were with friends?'

  'Sam and Paula, I mean, we'd been around the shops, and because it was a nice day we all went to McDonalds and then we decided to go to the park.'

  'Is that Mesnes Park, Lucy?' Lasser asked.

  Lucy didn't look at him, instead she nodded, her eyes still glued to Susan's face.

  'So what happened next?'

  'Sam and Paula went to catch the bus and I knew it was getting late but the battery had gone on my phone so I couldn't ring my mum to let her know I was ok.'

  'So you panicked?'

  'I know I shouldn't have gone through the woods but I used to go there with my dad a lot. Then I got lost, it started to go dark and I didn't know what to do.' A solitary tear leaked from her left eye, Lasser watched as it trickled down her cheek before plopping into her lap.

  'And I got really scared and started to run.'

  'I'm not surprised,' Susan said. 'I think I'd have been scared too.'

  Lucy smiled tentatively before dragging the sleeve of her shirt across her cheek. 'I told myself I was being stupid but everything looked different and then I fell and hurt by elbows and...' Lucy shuddered and lowered her head.

  Her mother gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. 'You're doing really well Lucy.'

  'Is that when you saw the man?'

  Lucy lic
ked her lips nervously. 'He was running along the path towards me. I don't know what he looked like, it was too dark to see his face, but I know he was wearing dark clothes and white trainers.'

  Susan leaned further forward, dipping her head until she was looking up at Lucy. 'Then what happened?'

  'He started to scream,' she replied in a flat monotone voice, to Lasser she sounded as emotive as the speaking clock.

  'You mean he was shouting as he ran towards you?' Susan asked.

  Lucy snapped her head left and right, her fair hair swinging. 'No, he wasn't shouting, he was screaming because of what the other man was doing to him.'

  Lasser chewed the inside of his cheek, the last thing he wanted was for the young girl to clam up, so he crossed his legs and waited for Susan to ask the obvious question.

  'Can you tell me why he was screaming, Lucy?'

  Lucy Croft's hands fluttered in the air, her mother took hold of them and placed them back into her lap. 'It's alright Lucy; if you can't remember then it doesn't matter.'

  Lasser held his breath.

  'He was hitting him with something.'

  'And the man who chased you, he was definitely the one screaming?' Susan asked.

  Lucy nodded. 'Yes, but after the man hit him he stopped.'

  Headlights flared at the window and Lucy looked up. 'Dad's here!' Leaping to her feet, she ran across the room and vanished into the hall. Claire Croft sighed before pushing herself up from the sofa, her face set in a deep frown.

  Lasser heard the front door bang open, muffled voices drifted into the room, Claire stayed rooted to the spot looking agitated.

  When Lucy reappeared, she had her arm wrapped around the waist of a fair-haired man. There was no denying he was her father, he had the same slender build the same pale grey eyes.

  Lasser felt the atmosphere in the room change. Claire folded her arms, chewing feverously at her bottom lip, her eyes firing bursts of anger towards the man who hovered in the doorway.

  Lasser stood and stretched out his hand. 'Mr Croft?'

  'Who are you?'

  'I'm Detective Sergeant Lasser, this is PC Coyle.'