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

by Robin Roughley

  Lucy tightened her grip on her father's waist.

  'Look, I don't know what's happened here but I don't want my daughter upsetting.'

  Lasser nodded. 'Of course not, Lucy was just helping us out, weren't you Lucy?'

  The girl looked up at him wide eyed before nodding.

  Lasser eased himself down onto his haunches. 'So what happened next?'

  Lucy looked up at her father who smiled and nodded.

  'After the man stopped screaming, the other one kept hitting him.'

  'With his fists?'

  'No, it was something shiny.'

  'Shiny?'

  Lucy lifted her arm into the air and held it shoulder high. 'It kind of hovered in the air and then it came sweeping down and there was this horrible sound.' She shuddered and grasped her father's hand.

  Lasser flicked a look over his shoulders before standing up. 'Can you tell me where this happened, Lucy?'

  'Do you know where the gates are at the end of Skitters Wood?'

  'I think so.'

  'Well if you go along the path, then you'll find the man who chased me...'

  'You mean he's still there?' Lasser asked in surprise.

  For the first time Lucy looked directly at him. 'I think the other man was hitting him with an axe.'

  Claire Croft gasped.

  Lasser turned. 'Right, Susan, when you're ready.'

  CHAPTER 12

  Lasser squinted at the onslaught, then the headlights swept away and died, a moment later, he heard a car door slam and Bannister came striding towards them.

  'Right, what have we got?'

  As Lasser explained about Lucy Croft's mad rush through the woods Bannister's face settled into a dark frown. 'So according to this girl the guy who was chasing her is in there somewhere?' He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  'She said if we follow the path we'll come across the body.'

  Bannister flicked on the Maglight, the beam lanced out pushing the shadows back. 'Right, then let's go and see if she was letting her imagination run riot.'

  Bannister strode through a set of wrought iron gates, the dark green paint peeling off in long curling strips, Lasser and Susan followed.

  'How did it go with Ray?' Lasser asked.

  'As much as he hated Philips I don't think he was responsible for his death.'

  'What about Andrew Hartley?'

  Bannister sneezed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, the wavering torch careered upwards. 'I've been in touch with the lads from Manchester and they're trying to find him.'

  'So he's missing?' Lasser asked

  'Apparently, he drives for a living, long distance, so he could be anywhere.'

  'But...'

  'And before you ask, we've been in touch with the haulage company he works for, so we should be able to speak to him tomorrow.'

  Beneath the trees, the thin wind sliced through their clothing, Lasser shivered wishing he'd grabbed his thick coat from the boot of the car. That was the trouble with this weather; the warm days lulled you into thinking it was summer. However, as soon as the sun did its disappearing act the temperature would plummet leaving you chilled to the bone.

  'There!' Bannister snapped and set off running.

  Susan Coyle bolted, leaving Lasser in her wake.

  Bannister slithered to a stop and shone the torch down at the remains of the body. 'Jesus,' he mumbled under his breath.

  Susan spun away and retched, a hand flying to her mouth, bending at the waist she vomited into the undergrowth. Lasser watched as she staggered away before turning to see what all the fuss was about, he wished he hadn't bothered as his stomach lurched.

  'Fuck me,' he hissed.

  Bannister threw him a savage look before sweeping the torch back to the grizzly scene.

  The body lay diagonally across the sandstone path. Lasser could see a huge bloodstain spreading out from where the head should have been. Both hands and feet were missing, the torchlight twitched, glinting off stark white bone before sweeping away.

  'Lasser, get some bodies out here.'

  Lasser nodded before turning away and yanking out his phone.

  Susan stood a few feet away her hands resting on her knees, her head dangling.

  Slapping the phone to his ear Lasser waited for some bugger to answer the call.

  Bannister swept the light into the trees, the powerful beam blasted out into the darkness.

  'Meadows, is that you?' Lasser fiddled with the cigarettes in his pocket. 'Right, listen, we're in Skitters Wood, I want as many people out here as you can muster and get in touch with the SOCO team,' Lasser paused as he listened to the desk sergeant waffling on about being short staffed. 'I don't care if it's a Saturday night, just do as you're told and get Doc Shannon out here while you're at it. Tell them to park up at the Park Lane end we're about a hundred yards in on the main path.' Without waiting for a reply, he jabbed at the screen before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Turning, he saw Bannister down on his haunches in front of the body.

  Susan wiped a shaking hand across her mouth and gave him a sheepish look. 'I'm sorry about that, sir.'

  Lasser flapped a hand. 'No worries,' he replied before heading back to Bannister.

  The DCI looked up as he approached. 'Well, it looks as if Lucy Croft was spot on,' he shone the light back down onto the body. 'I'd say an axe was about right, sergeant.'

  Hissing in a sharp breath, Lasser leant over the body. Whoever the man was his dress sense left a lot to be desired, he was wearing a grimy black shell suit, the zip pulled up tight to the remains of his neck. Two feet away Lasser could see a black raider's baseball cap lying in a scattering of brown leaves.

  'It looks as if our man could be a bit of a chav.'

  Bannister frowned. 'And just what the hell is a chav, sergeant?'

  Lasser shrugged, he had no idea, he just knew one when he saw one. 'Well, look at him, I mean these shell suits went out of fashion in the eighties.'

  Bannister's frown turned into a scowl. 'What are you talking about; I go jogging in one just like this.'

  'That's a joke right?'

  Bannister shot to his feet. 'Of course it's not a bloody joke; it's a jogging suit not a sodding shell suit!'

  Lasser could feel the blush creeping across his face. Bannister growled low under his breath and then he began to follow the trail of blood along the path.

  Susan shrugged at Lasser and then glanced at the body before looking quickly away. 'Don't worry sir, I'd definitely say shell suit,' she whispered.

  Easing around the body, they followed the DCI, when he suddenly stopped they looked down at the ground.

  'The trail of blood ends here,' Bannister muttered and scratched at his chin.

  Lasser watched as the torchlight travelled slowly forward, revealing nothing but the pale brown sandstone path. Bannister turned full circle sweeping the light as he went, shadows rose and fell.

  'So unless he lobbed the missing parts into the bushes it means the killer was carrying something to take them away in.'

  'You don't say, sergeant.'

  Lasser sighed; it was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 13

  Thankfully Lasser managed to retrieve his winter coat from the boot, zipped up; he shivered by the side of the car, the craving for a cigarette building. The secluded lane was crammed with assorted police vehicles, blue lights spinning away beneath the trees.

  He could see a small group of people standing well back from the gates muttering to one another, occasionally, a camera phone flash would bloom in the darkness.

  Bannister strode towards him, his anger heightened by the sight of a local press van turning up. Lasser watched as the door popped open and Michael Brewster clambered out.

  'Black, keep your eye on that Bastard. If he puts a foot out of line I want him banged up for the night.'

  Steve Black nodded. 'Understood sir.'

  Brewster threw them a look of disgust before heading over towards the rubber
neckers.

  'Bloody vulture!' Bannister snapped.

  'So what's happening?' Lasser asked.

  Drawing his coat around him, Bannister shrugged. 'We've got half the force searching the woods but until it comes light I don't think we'll find anything useful.'

  'So what do you want me to do?'

  Glancing at his watch, Bannister shrugged. 'Do you think this Lucy Croft will be able to tell us anymore?'

  'I doubt it. I mean, she was more concerned with getting out of there in one piece.'

  'Are you trying to be funny, Lasser, because if you are...'

  'Sorry that came out wrong.'

  Bannister eyed him under a heavy brow. 'Right, well you might as well get home but I want you at the hospital first thing.'

  'No problem.'

  Bannister slammed a hand onto his shoulder. 'I bet you wish you were back in your half built hotel now, eh?'

  Lasser grimaced. 'I'll see you in the morning,' he replied as he climbed behind the wheel.

  'Don't forget, six o’clock at the morgue.'

  Lasser nodded before driving away.

  By the time he arrived home, Medea was lounging on the sofa wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe; her long dark hair still wet from the shower spread out across her shoulders.

  'Are you hungry?' she asked.

  Slipping out of his jacket, Lasser went over to the radiator and stood warming the back of his legs. 'I'm starving.'

  'Good, because I've just ordered a takeaway.'

  Lasser rubbed his hands together, his stomach rumbled, 'Chicken Madras?'

  'Don't worry I told them to make it extra hot.'

  'What a woman.'

  'Sexist pig!' she fired back. 'So come on, how was your first day back in the rat race?'

  Pushing himself away from the radiator, Lasser crossed the room and slid down beside her. 'As expected, all the nutters have waited till I got back off my holiday before they started their fun and games.'

  Planting a kiss on the end of his nose, she smiled, 'Oh you poor thing.'

  Lasser raised an eyebrow. 'You could at least try and sound sympathetic.'

  'I'm sorry, I'm still in holiday mode.'

  'Yeah, well, I'm well and truly back in the here and now.'

  'Why, what's happened?'

  'Oh, just the usual, a body minus head, arms and feet found in Skitters Woods.'

  The smile slid from her face like sand off a hot shovel. 'Is it related to Philips,' she asked.

  Lasser blinked. 'What did you say?'

  Medea eased away, gathering her hair she pulled it tight over her left shoulder. 'Well you have to admit it seems strange, two bodies turning up both,' she paused and swallowed, 'cut up.' She watched as he pushed himself up from the sofa and crossed the room.

  'What are you doing?'

  'Giving Bannister a ring.'

  'At this time?'

  Lasser smiled as he dragged his phone free. 'Has anyone ever told you, you'd make a great copper?'

  Slipping her feet onto the sofa, she grimaced. 'I wouldn't do your job if you paid me.'

  Plugging his index finger into his left ear, Lasser nodded. 'I can't say I blame you.'

  CHAPTER 14

  Doc Shannon was sporting a belt with a shiny buckle that had Harley Davidson stamped on it and yet his trousers were still managing to slip down.

  The body lay naked on the cutting table, the would-be shell suit had been sent off to forensics.

  Bannister loosened his tie and frowned. 'So come on, what have you found out?'

  Shannon snapped on a pair of Latex gloves before thrusting his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. 'Well he's a male...'

  'We can see he's a bloody male.' Bannister barked, looking down at the shrivelled genitalia on display.

  Shannon sniffed and carried on. 'Approximately thirty-five to forty years of age. In the past our mystery man had a drug problem.' Grabbing the right arm he pointed down to a line of old needle scars.

  'Heroin?' Lasser asked.

  'He had a half empty bottle of Methadone in his pocket, so he was definitely on some kind of medical programme.' Shannon explained.

  'Just like Colin Philips.'

  Bannister looked at Lasser, the frown deepening. 'What else can you tell us?'

  'Well the scars on the thighs were made by a shallow blade,' he pointed down, Bannister and Lasser drew closer. The scars ran horizontally starting just below the groin and ending at the knees, all were about four to five inches in length, the skin purple and puckered.

  'Self harmer?'

  'It looks that way, sergeant. I also found ligature marks around the wrists and ankles.'

  'So he'd been tied up?'

  'At some point, though, once again the marks are quite old, lucky really, if the axe had cut a little higher then they wouldn't have been there for me to spot.'

  'So are you saying he was into bondage?' Bannister growled.

  'Impossible to tell, although I think our man was no stranger to pain.'

  'Because of the self harming?'

  Shannon gave Bannister a cool look. 'No, when someone cuts themselves it has little to do with sexual gratification, it's usually about despair and self loathing.'

  'But you said...'

  'I know what I said, but you see when I was doing the preliminaries I found these.' Shannon picked up a shallow metal receptacle containing a scattering of small pins.

  Bannister peered down, his face locked in confusion. 'What...?'

  'I removed them from his scrotum.'

  Lasser looked at the doctor in disbelief. 'Bollocks!'

  Shannon's beard split into a yawning grin. 'Well I prefer the technical term, but close enough.'

  Bannister sighed. 'So you're saying he was walking around with these things stuck in his privates?'

  'It takes all sorts. I mean, personally, I can't see the appeal.'

  'Appeal!' Bannister roared. 'There is no bloody appeal, it's sick and twisted and...'

  'Each to his own,' Shannon replied.

  Bannister glared. 'But what about the medical implications?'

  Lasser fiddled with the cigarettes in his pocket. 'Well looking at the scars on his legs I don't think he was the kind of man who treated his body like a temple.'

  'Well it seems as if you two have something in common then doesn't it, sergeant.'

  'Ha ha,' Lasser sighed.

  Bannister smirked before turning to Shannon. 'Right, I take it the blood is being cross referenced?'

  'You'll have to check with forensics about that.'

  'But...'

  'That's their department, not mine.'

  Bannister snatched his coat tight around him, his hands thrust into the pockets. 'Right well if you find anything new...'

  'You'll be the first to know.'

  'Lasser, you heard the man, let's go and see what forensics has to say for themselves.'

  Lasser followed Bannister across the room, raising a hand to Shannon as he pushed his way through the double doors.

  Doc Shannon threw him a look full of pity before hitching up his trousers.

  CHAPTER 15

  It wasn't much of a view. The town was an amalgam of terraced houses and shops that lay in the basin of a small valley. Market Street bustled with early morning shoppers, like a line of soldier ants they trudged back and forth arms laden with shopping bags.

  He could see people sitting outside Starbucks sipping their Cafe Lattés and frothy Cappuccinos, the man counted four church spires within a two-mile radius.

  A pigeon landed on the windowsill and cooed up at him, he frowned and rapped his knuckles on the glass but the bird simply shuffled along the sandstone ledge, plumping its feathers as it continued to trill.

  Moving from the window, he slid onto the sofa before pulling the laptop onto his knees.

  According to the news, the body had been found late last night. He watched a re-run of the local coverage, the screen showing a line of police cars parked on the leafy lane, the
lights pulsating flashes of blue.

  Then the camera cut to a man in a brown leather jacket, his eyes lit with a kind of rabid excitement, his dark hair swept back over a high forehead.

  'It's believed that somewhere within this woodland a body has been found, according to sources it's the body of a male who has died at the hands of a maniac.' He seemed to loom towards the camera, a guerrilla reporter spreading the unbridled truth no matter how unsavoury.

  'As usual the police are refusing to comment.' The camera swept around in a half circle, zooming in on a couple of men standing by the side of a blue Audi, one of them rubbed a hand across his short dark hair the other nodded before climbing into the car.

  The man stretched out his long legs and smiled.

  'This is Mike Brewster, reporting live for Orbital television.' The camera zapped back to the reporter, his face etched with disgust.

  Tapping at the keys, he took a sip from a fresh carton of apple juice as he waited for the search engine to do its thing.

  Scrolling down to Wikipedia, he began to read about Michael Brewster. According to the site, he'd started out on the Manchester Evening News where he quickly garnered a reputation for getting the story at any cost. After two years, he'd been picked up by a red-top and then his career had really taken off. The man scrolled down the page; in 2006, he had begun to pop up on local current affairs programmes spouting left wing views on everything from gay marriage to immigration. Two years later, he'd been given his own programme which consisted of door-stepping small-time drug dealers and dodgy businessmen.

  The rise to fame had ended when Brewster had been accused of fabricating evidence to beef up the show. His fall from grace had been rapid and now here he was working for some low-key cable channel, his frustration plain to see.

  It was no wonder Brewster looked so wired, from having it all, he now found himself relegated to the lower league, a ‘Z’-list celebrity. The reporter bore grudges the man had seen it in his eyes, a barely controlled rage that said 'I'm better than this and don't you forget it.'

  Logging off, he made his way back to the window. In the distance, he could see a dark smudge of woodland. He had no idea if it was the place where he'd left the body, although, as he got to know the town, he was sure this would change.