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

by Robin Roughley

  'It's not just that, I mean, this job eats into any quality time and when I was alone it didn't matter, because I had nothing to come home to.'

  'What about when you were with Cathy?' She felt him tense and eased herself away. The hurt was clear in his eyes. Cathy Harper had been an ex-colleague and an ex-lover, killed twelve months earlier by a maniac with a Stanley knife.

  Lasser swallowed. 'It was different, I mean, we saw each another at work, I knew she existed.'

  Medea frowned. 'Existed?'

  Lasser could feel the frustration building. 'I know it sounds pathetic but sometimes when I've been out of the house for fourteen, fifteen hours I start to wonder if you're actually real.' When he saw the shock on her face, Lasser tried a reassuring smile. 'Sounds weird, huh?'

  'You could say that.'

  'Listen Medea, I used to want to stay away from this place, the hours didn't bother me, any overtime and I was the first one with his hand up. But now I can't wait to get back and that terrifies me.'

  Her eyes grew wider still.

  'Jesus, this is all coming out wrong!' he swiped a hand across his head in annoyance.

  'I get the impression there was a compliment buried in there somewhere?'

  'You have no idea,' he said.

  Lacing her hands around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. 'Is that real enough for you?'

  Lasser could taste strawberries. 'I'm sorry for being such a tosser.'

  'Don't worry, you make up for it in other ways, now let's eat.' Handing him the corkscrew she slipped under his arm before sliding her hands into a pair of oven gloves. 'So come on tell me what you've been up to today?'

  Lasser twisted the corkscrew into the bottle. 'Enough doom and gloom, why don't you tell me about your day for a change?'

  Sliding the casserole dish from the oven she placed it on the worktop and flicked the oven door closed with her hip. 'Me?'

  'Yeah come on, I mean, you're always asking me how my day went.' The cork left the bottle with a satisfying pop.

  'Well let's see, I spent the morning catching up on the gossip and then I had a ham and lettuce sandwich for lunch...'

  'Come on, be serious.'

  Lifting the lid, Medea dipped her head and breathed in the scent of the food. 'I am being serious, I mean it might not be a high octane job like yours but it suits me.'

  Lasser dragged a couple of plates from the cupboard. 'So that's the morning taken care of, what did you do in the afternoon?'

  'Filed a few reports, more gossip, took one of the girls to see the school nurse because she'd twisted her ankle playing hockey...'

  'I thought you said your job wasn't high octane?'

  Medea ladled a scoop full of the casserole onto one of the plates. 'After all that excitement I called at Tesco's on the way home and here we are, sitting down to enjoy the fruits of my labour.'

  Lasser slid his fork into the food and Medea slapped at his hand.

  'You can wait, you greedy sod.'

  Dropping the fork, he raised his hands to the ceiling. 'Guilty as charged boss.'

  'Bring the wine,' she said as she carried the steaming plates to the table.

  Lasser did as he was told.

  CHAPTER 33

  As soon as Bannister walked into the room, he knew something was wrong. Suzanne sat at the kitchen table nursing a steaming cup of coffee, her face locked in a frown of anger.

  'Suzi, are you ok?'

  'You'd better sit down.'

  Bannister scratched at his left buttock as he crossed the room. 'Why, what's the matter?

  Suzanne sighed and spun the paper around on the table. 'This.'

  Bannister looked down and she watched as the colour drained from his face. 'You've got to be fucking kidding me!'

  'Alan, keep your voice down, Kelly's upstairs!' she hissed.

  Bannister grabbed the paper and started to read, by the time he'd finished the paper was a mangled mess clasped between his grasping fingers. 'Brewster, I might have fucking known!'

  'Alan!'

  He threw the paper back onto the table and raised his hands. 'Ok, ok, I'm sorry.'

  'What's all the noise about?'

  Bannister spun around, his daughter stood in the doorway her long dark hair mussed with sleep.

  'Do you want some toast, Kelly?' Suzanne asked.

  Kelly shook her head, looking warily at Bannister. 'So what are you effing and blinding at.'

  'Nothing sweetheart.'

  'Don't call me that,' she snapped.

  Bannister closed his eyes; it had been eighteen months since Kelly had found out that he was her biological father. Eighteen months of black looks and foul moods, most of the time she simply ignored him and when she did speak it was usually in monosyllables.

  'Sorry,' he mumbled and watched as she pulled the fridge door open before grabbing a carton of orange juice.

  'What time are you in college today?' Suzanne asked.

  Kelly took her time, draining half the bottle before sliding it back into the fridge. 'Half nine.'

  'Well I have to go into town this morning so I can give you a lift if you like.'

  Kelly shrugged. 'Whatever.'

  Bannister fumed, but kept his mouth closed.

  His daughter threw him a sour glare as she headed out of the kitchen.

  Suzanne reached for her cigarettes. 'So what are you going to do about this?' she pointed at the crumpled paper.

  Bannister leant across the table. 'Kill the bastard,' he hissed.

  Suzanne sighed.

  CHAPTER 34

  Lasser shot up in bed, the mobile on the bedside cabinet was thrumming, and someone was banging on the front door, Medea's side of the bed was empty. Blinking, Lasser threw back the duvet before swinging his legs from the bed. The banging increased; the phone stopped its incessant bleating.

  Then he heard the sound of the front door opening and Medea's voice drifted up the stairs.

  'Alan, is everything alright?'

  Lasser yawned, checking his watch; he was surprised to find it was almost eight in the morning.

  More mumblings and then Lasser heard the sound of heavy feet clumping up the stairs.

  When Bannister appeared at the bedroom door, Lasser was in the process of fastening his trousers. 'Jesus, what's the problem?'

  Bannister stormed into the room brandishing a newspaper. 'Brewster, that's the fucking problem, and what the hell are you doing lounging in bed when we have a double murder to solve?'

  'I...

  'Come on man, for God's sake get your bloody act together.'

  'It's not his fault Alan; I kept him up late last night.' Medea stood in the doorway, two cups clasped in her hands.

  Bannister looked over his shoulder, Medea raised an eyebrow, and Bannister blushed. 'Oh right, right.'

  'I made you both a coffee,' she said holding the cups out.

  Clearing his throat, Bannister took the drinks. 'Thanks Medea.'

  'Yours is the one with Mr Grumpy on the front,' she said with a smile.

  Bannister blushed.

  Lasser grinned and shrugged his way into a clean shirt. Medea leant forward and kissed him on the lips. 'Thanks again for last night,' she said and winked.

  Lasser shrugged casually. 'No problem Miss.'

  Bannister goggled in disbelief. As soon as Medea left the room, he jabbed out a finger.

  'How does a twat like you end up with a stunner like that?' Bannister hissed.

  Lasser shrugged. 'You might not see it but I have bags of charm.'

  'You're full of shite Lasser and one day she'll see right through you.'

  'I...'

  'Now what do you make of that?' Bannister flapped the paper under Lasser's nose.

  Plucking it from his fingers, Lasser unravelled the crumpled paper and began to read, a couple of seconds later he sat down on the bed in disbelief.

  'Not so cocky now are you?'

  Lasser looked up. 'How the hell...'


  'That's what I intend finding out, now get some bloody shoes on, and get your arse out to the car. I'm in the mood for a witch hunt and Brewster is number one on the list of people to kill today.'

  Lasser reached under the bed for his shoes when he looked up Bannister had vanished.

  CHAPTER 35

  Lasser had been mistaken in his assumption that Martin Barlow preferred the minimalist approach to living. Truth was most of his belongings were being held in storage ready to be shipped off to Bulgaria. The house had been sold weeks ago, another few days and he would be ready to start his new life away from prying eyes and pointing fingers.

  Pouring himself a cup of freshly ground coffee he looked out into the back garden, part of him would be sorry to leave this house, though he knew moving on with his life would be impossible if he stayed.

  Barlow smiled showing his immaculate teeth, he was also pragmatic enough to realise that he'd been lucky to get away with things for so long.

  Despite his denials, Kelly Ross had been telling the truth. He'd been playing the game for years and it was one that he had enjoyed immensely. Barlow sighed, still there were other places to practice, other patients to treat.

  Sipping the coffee, he thought back to the glory days, an endless line of young girls reclining in the large leather chair looking up at him anxiously. Barlow shivered in remembrance. That was the part he had found most thrilling the look of fear in their wide eyes as he leaned over with drill in hand.

  Of course, he had always been careful to choose the right ones, normally those who required extensive work. Barlow licked his lips as he imagined the rubber mask enclosing their pretty faces or the needle slipping into a pale vein.

  When the knock came at the door, he frowned as the delicious images fragmented and drifted into oblivion.

  Barlow rose from his chair and wondered who could be calling so early in the morning, surely not someone wanting to sell something. He dismissed the notion, the house sat in a secluded cul-de-sac separated from his neighbours by large gardens and towering conifers.

  The knock came again, louder this time with an urgency behind it. Martin walked across the room and made his way down the long hallway; he could see the figure through the frosted glass, a hulking shape that seemed to fill the frame. For the first time, Barlow felt a flutter of anxiety and stopped. Since the court case, he'd had one or two threatening emails written by imbeciles who couldn't string a coherent sentence together if their lives depended on it. Still, he hesitated, his hush puppies planted firmly in the shag pile.

  Barlow watched as the figure raised his hand and knocked again, this time the glass rattled in the frame.

  'Who is it?' Barlow shouted.

  'Mr Barlow it's the police, do you mind opening the door please?'

  Barlow gritted his teeth, anger swamping the feeling of unease. 'Right, that's it!' he spat as he stormed along the hallway.

  Snatching the door open, he opened his mouth to give the man both barrels. The axe hit his head dead centre cleaving straight through bone and tissue. Martin Barlow's head fell apart under the impact, the heavy blade lodged in the stump of his neck.

  The man at the door lashed out his right leg, the sole of his boot thudded into Barlow's midriff, the body fell backwards, the axe sliding free with a wet slurping sound. Barlow landed heavily on the cream carpet, blood sprayed over the coffee coloured walls.

  Stepping over the threshold, he closed the door quietly before looking down at the twitching body.

  'Don't get up Mr Barlow, I won't be staying.'

  CHAPTER 36

  Bannister eyed the old-fashioned pram, a quizzical expression on his face. A small tent had been set up around the remains of Colin Philips. On arrival, the woods had been full of people trying to catch a glimpse of the grizzly proceedings. As soon as the morning paper had hit the shelves, people had been Twittering and Face-Booking one another to get out to the woods to see if Brewster's claims had been true. Bannister had fumed before sending the troops out to keep them well back.

  Looking up, he spotted the rotund Doc Shannon fighting his way out of the crime scene tent; it was like watching a hippo giving birth. Lasser was crouched on his haunches studying the pram closely.

  'It's been a long time since I've seen one of these,' he said.

  Bannister grunted in response and waved a hand at the doctor.

  Shannon waddled over the uneven ground, his pants held firmly in place by a new belt that inappropriately had a human skull for a buckle.

  'What's with the pram?' the doc asked as he approached.

  Lasser looked up. 'We think it was used to carry the remains.'

  Shannon raised a wiry eyebrow. 'That's a novel mode of transport.'

  'Forget about that,' Bannister snapped. 'What can you tell us about the body, is it Philips?'

  'More than likely.'

  Bannister tapped his foot on the hard baked ground. 'Let me guess, until you get him back to the lab you can't be sure.'

  Shannon shrugged his huge shoulders. 'I'm afraid that's the way it's got to be.'

  'Waste of time,' Bannister hissed.

  'Look at this.'

  Bannister turned, Lasser was pointing at a small tag taped to the hood of the pram.

  'What's it say?'

  'Second Hand Bargains, Mill Lane Industrial Estate, Hindley. It might be worth checking the place out?'

  Bannister rubbed his hands together trying to generate some heat; despite the bright sunlight, it was cold beneath the cover of the trees. 'Right, get over there now and take a look.'

  'What about Brewster?'

  'Don't worry about that bastard I've got people out looking for him.'

  Lasser stood up and sniffed. 'Right I'll catch up with you later.'

  'Hang on Lasser,' Bannister turned back to the doctor. 'How long before we have a definite on the remains.'

  Shannon pursed his lips. 'About four maybe five o’clock tonight.'

  'Right Lasser, I want you at the ozzie by half four.'

  Lasser nodded. 'No problem,' he replied before traipsing off through the trees, his shoes swishing through the thick blanket of leaves.

  'Look at him anyone would think we had all the time in the world.' Cupping his hands around his mouth Bannister bellowed, 'Get a bloody move on, sergeant!'

  Lasser threw a poisonous look over his shoulder before quickening his pace.

  'That's better,' Bannister grinned.

  Shannon looked at the DCI before shaking his head.

  CHAPTER 37

  Brewster pushed up his sleeves, back in the thick of it and ready for action. In the three hours since the story of the body in the woods had broken, he had taken half a dozen calls from ex-colleagues, mainly editors begging him for snippets of information.

  When he looked through the apartment window, it was as if he was seeing the town through fresh eyes. The place still looked like a dump but now it offered more than the simple drudgery of useless stories, no more talking to morons with their hand rolled cigarettes poking from their narrow pinched mouths.

  The nationals would descend on the town, desperate to get in on the act and Brewster would stand centre stage, play them off against one another, cherry pick the best deal for himself.

  Looking down, he saw a police car pull in through the gates and park up. Straightening his shoulders, he pulled out a cigarette and watched as two coppers climbed out and headed for the entrance. Brewster had no doubt they were coming for him, pulling out his mobile, he scrolled down the screen and pressed the call button.

  'Hello Stevenson's Solicitors.'

  'Put me through to Mark Stone.'

  'May I ask who's calling?'

  'Listen sweetheart, he's expecting my call, tell him it's Mike Brewster.'

  'One moment please.'

  Brewster sparked the lighter and lit the cigarette, smoke trailed from his flared nostrils.

  'Mike, what's happening?'

  'They're on their way to the apartment.'
r />   'I'll meet you at the station.'

  'No problem and thanks for this Mark.'

  'Not a problem my friend.'

  Brewster ended the call and slid the window open, cool air flowed into the room. When the knock came at the door, he tossed the stump through the open window. Grabbing his coat from the sofa, he headed for the door.

  CHAPTER 38

  'Blimey that was quick!' The man stood in a patch of sunshine, a cigarette tucked behind his right ear. Dressed in heavy work boots and blue bib and brace overalls, he smiled as Lasser climbed from the car.

  'I'm sorry I don't follow.'

  The man's bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. 'You're a copper aren't you?'

  'That obvious is it?'

  The man scratched at his chin. 'I've seen you knocking about in Hindley; you used to have a bevy in Rosie Browns.'

  Lasser frowned in surprise. 'That's right but what did you mean when you said 'that was quick?'

  'Well I've just come off the blower to your lot.'

  Sliding the car keys into his pocket, Lasser stood back and looked at the building. At one time, the small industrial estate had been a paint works, when it closed down in the eighties the factory had been split into small units. You had the obligatory hand-carwash, a small joiner's workshop and a party clothing shop that had a pirates outfit in the small window alongside a naughty nurses uniform.

  Dragging out his cigarettes, Lasser sparked up. 'So what's the problem?'

  'Well we've been closed for a couple of days and when we got back this morning we found some sod's broke into the place.'

  'Anything missing?'

  The man twitched his head. 'Follow me.' Moving around the corner, he stopped and pointed at a heavy-duty padlock on the floor before grabbing the handle of the sliding door and yanking it back. Lasser peered into the gloom; the place was full of crap, old furniture, sofa's piles of books and vinyl records.

  Following the man inside, Lasser crinkled his nose; the building carried a faint odour of must and damp.

  'As you can see it's hard to tell if anything's been nicked.'

  Lasser grimaced and drew hard on the cigarette. 'I can imagine.'