'I mean it beats me why anyone would want to break into this place, after all, there's bugger all worth taking.'
A jumble of dismantled cots had been propped against one wall alongside a collection of old pushbikes and ancient record players.
'Perhaps it was someone sleeping rough, trying to find a warm place for a couple of days?' Lasser offered.
The man didn't answer, instead he moved further into the building weaving his way through the junk.
Lasser followed, tiptoeing around a broken exercise machine. 'What do you do with all this stuff?'
'People donate it and then we pass it onto those that need it.'
'So there's a desperate need for old Perry Como records is that what you're saying?'
The man glanced over his shoulder a wide grin on his face. 'You're a sarky sod aren't you?'
Lasser shrugged. 'So are you the only one that works here?'
'Nay, there's me and old Stan, and Colin help's out a couple of days a week.'
'Colin Philips?'
'Aye that's right, why do you know him?'
'I know of him.'
The man turned right, squeezing down a narrow passage made up of stacks of old musty books and magazines. 'Yeah well, he should have been in today but to be honest he's not the most reliable of men.'
'Worked here long has he?' Lasser asked as he tried to avoid brushing against the books.
'Bout six months, the job centre sent him.'
'Do that often, do they?'
The man grunted. 'I think Colin's had his problems, been in the nick if you know what I mean.'
'Really.'
'Now’t major, a bit of breaking and entering and he has a problem with the booze but he's never given me any problems.'
Not much chance of that now Lasser thought.
'Right here we are.' The man pushed open a small door and then came to a halt. 'I mean normally I wouldn't bother ringing you, not just for a break in but what do you reckon to this?'
Lasser could see bugger all, the man was lodged in the doorway. 'Er, well if you get out of the way then I'll tell you.'
'Oh right, sorry about that,' the man moved tentatively forward into a small square room.
Lasser stopped, his eyes springing wide in surprise, the pale grey plasterboard walls were drenched in blood, looking up he could see a spray pattern of red on the ceiling. The floor was awash with the stuff.
'I mean, it looks as if someone's slaughtered a pig in here, don't it?'
Lasser pinched the end from his cigarette and stamped on the red ember before reaching for his phone. 'You're not far off the truth there, my friend,' he replied.
The man looked at him nonplussed.
CHAPTER 39
'I've told you I have no idea who he is.' Brewster sat in the moulded plastic chair, a faint smirk on his suntanned face.
Mark Stone by his side his leather briefcase on the floor, looking like a shark in an expensive suit.
Bannister sat opposite, one foot tapping on the carpet tiles in anger. 'So you're telling me a total stranger rang you out of the blue and told you about the body in the woods?'
'That's correct.' Brewster said.
'I want to know what he said and make that word for word, Mr Brewster.'
Brewster shrugged. 'I've already told you...'
'Well tell me again,' Bannister snapped.
Brewster obliged.
'And did this mystery caller divulge why he'd chosen you?'
'He said he was looking for someone he could trust...'
'And you were the best he could come up with?'
Brewster frowned, Stone sighed, before crossing his legs.
'So did he say if he would be back in touch?'
'No.'
'You're a bloody liar, Brewster.' Bannister snarled.
'My client is trying to assist you here inspector; the very least he can expect is courtesy.'
Bannister glared at Stone, who met his poisonous gaze with dead eyes.
'So come on Brewster, you received the call and then went out to the woods?'
'That's right.'
'It must have been a shock finding the body like that?'
'Of course it was a shock.'
'But you still managed to go armed with a camera, you managed to hold yourself together long enough to take the photographs didn't you?'
'I'm a professional reporter; it's what I do for a living. I mean if you can't distance yourself in this game then you're in the wrong occupation.'
'And you're good at distancing yourself from reality aren't you Brewster?'
Brewster shrugged. 'Like I said I'm a professional.'
'But this isn't the first time we've had this conversation is it Mr Brewster?'
'Look my obligation is to the public...'
'Forgive me but you're talking out of your back passage, you have no interest in the general public. The only thing you're concerned with is yourself, you hate the fact that you're stuck in this town don't you?'
The reporter frowned. 'We all have our cross to bear.'
'I mean, you had a career that was up there,' Bannister flapped his right hand over the top of his head. 'And yet you still managed to screw it up.'
The smile slid from Brewster's face.
'I hardly think this is relevant, inspector.' Stone said as he glanced at Brewster.
Bannister ignored him. 'What I really want to know is why you didn't inform us as soon as you discovered the body?'
'Can I ask you something, Inspector Bannister?'
Bannister eased back in his chair. 'Go on.'
'Can you tell me why this town is harbouring a number of serious sex offenders?'
Bannister drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. 'Where do you get your information from?'
'For those in the know it's common knowledge.'
'And you're in the know, I didn't realise.'
'I'm right aren't I?'
Bannister glanced at the ceiling tiles. 'You still haven't told me why you thought the best course of action was to contact an old colleague and plaster this all over the front page?'
'If I'd come to you, you would have covered it up, pretended nothing was happening?'
Bannister locked his fingers together the knuckles white with anger. 'So you'd sooner start a panic? I mean, thanks to your 'report' those woods were crawling with local people...'
'Who have a legitimate right to know what's happening in their town.'
Bannister leaned forward. 'Well you seem to have a firm grasp on what's happening, so why don't you tell me?'
Brewster folded his arms. 'No comment,' he said.
Bannister reached across the table. 'We'll need your mobile phone.'
Dipping a hand into his pocket, Brewster slid out the iphone and handed it over.
Bannister watched him through narrowed eyes.
'I'd like a receipt for that if you don't mind.'
It took all Bannister's strength not to fly across the table and nut the bastard.
CHAPTER 40
'I'm bloody sick of this!' Doc Shannon grumbled as he disentangled himself from the Land Rover. 'I mean you either want me at the lab trying to find out if the body belongs to Philips or you want me out here. I can't be in two places at once.'
'Sorry doc, I tried to contact Molder but apparently he's off on his hols.'
Shannon slammed the car door. 'That man always seems to be on holiday.'
'It's alright for some.' Lasser smiled.
Shannon grunted before yanking open the back door and dragging out his case. 'So what have we got?'
'I think this is the place Philips was killed.'
'Right then lets' see if your deductive powers are correct.'
Lasser led the way back into the building.
'Good God it's like bad Santa's grotto in here,' Shannon grumbled.
Laser turned left and headed down the narrow passage towards the small room.
'Lasser, hang on!'
The ser
geant turned, Shannon was wedged between the books and magazines.
'You ok?'
'I'm bloody stuck.'
'You're kidding right?'
Shannon glared, his eyes bulging, his beard all a quiver. 'I'm stuck I tell you,' he tried to move forward, the wall of paperbacks swayed. 'Fuck this!' the doctor bellowed and lunged left, the books fell like crumbling castle walls and Shannon stormed forward, a human bulldozer in a check lumberjack shirt.
Lasser stepped into the room and waited, a couple of seconds, Shannon shot through the gap.
'That's better,' he said shaking the dust from his hair.
'So what do you think?' Lasser asked.
Shannon peered around the room. 'I see what you mean, a bit messy isn't it?'
Lasser pointed up. 'The holes in the ceiling, could they have been made by an axe?'
'I'm a pathologist, sergeant, not a builder.'
'Ok, but imagine the killer, axe in hand, up it goes and bang you have a hole in the roof.'
'Possible, I suppose.'
'So what do you want to do?'
'I take it SOCO are on their way?'
'They should be here any minute.'
'Right then I'm off.'
'Hang on, is that it?'
Shannon turned and shrugged. 'Listen to me, sergeant, Bannister is coming to the hospital in,' he checked his watch. 'Two hours time and you know what he's like he'll want answers.'
'Well yeah, I realise that but...'
'Besides, there's no body in here, I mean, if you want me to stand around and twiddle my thumbs then I'm more than willing to oblige but you take responsibility not me.'
Lasser tugged at his left earlobe, Shannon was right; Bannister would throw a wobbler if he discovered that Shannon had been dragged out here for no good reason.
'Off you go then.'
Shannon smiled. 'Wise decision Sergeant Lasser.'
CHAPTER 41
Adam Stokes watched as Medea drove through the gates of Claremont Girl's school. He saw her head snap left and right as she checked the traffic flow before turning right and pulling away.
Glancing in his mirror Stokes set off, a cigarette clamped between his teeth.
He'd spent the night thinking about Medea Sullivan, couldn't shift her from his head. They'd spent almost twelve months together as a couple and despite what she said there had been good times.
Sitting in his bedroom, he'd emptied almost half a bottle of whisky thinking about the way she'd looked at him as if he were something she'd stood in, and couldn't shift from the sole of her shoe.
Stokes eased off the gas, telling himself to calm down, but the anger wouldn't be denied. Thinking back, she had always been a stuck up bitch and now she was going out with a bloody copper. Yeah well, that was just typical of her shacking up with a plod.
Stokes went for a gear change, the clutch squealed. 'Bloody thing,' he hissed as he slammed it into gear. The car rattled and Adam fumed, he'd spent the last few months trying to get a job, he'd lost the last one after having a fling with the bosses wife. Since then the twat had spread the word around the town that Adam Stokes couldn't be trusted. Everywhere he went the door had been slammed in his face. Oh, they'd tried spouting the usual rubbish, no vacancies or try back in a couple of months but he knew the truth well enough.
Things had gotten so bad that he'd been forced to move back to his mother's house, which was ok in some respects, he got his meals cooked and his clothes washed but it still grated on his nerves.
The company car had been lost along with the job that's why he was driving around in his mothers old Cleo.
'Bastard!' Adam slammed his hand on the steering wheel as the frustration bloomed.
Twenty-eight and reduced to this, it hardly fitted in with his career plans. At eighteen, he'd made himself a promise, a millionaire by thirty, retired at thirty-five, sitting on his own private boat with a bevy of fit woman at his disposal.
Now he was a million miles away from the dream, his life was slowly unravelling and the realisation that he might well be spending the next few years in his old bedroom made his anger morph into outright fury.
Suddenly he was back in the Tesco store, Medea was looking at him with contempt saying.
'Still wearing the fake tan, I see.'
He'd told her he'd just got back from a holiday which had been a lie; truth was he had no idea when he'd get the chance to have another holiday.
The unfairness of life swamped over him and for a few seconds the road in front blurred, the small car lurched to the left and Adam gasped and yanked at the wheel, the Cleo juddered from side to side. Stokes licked his lips and gripped the wheel, when he caught sight of his face in the mirror the frown deepened. The fake tan had smudged on his forehead showing the pasty skin beneath, his eyes circled with tiredness.
'Bitch!' He bellowed and slammed his foot on the gas as the car lurched forward.
Medea fucking Sullivan, miss prim and proper, yeah well they'd see about that!
CHAPTER 42
As soon as Lasser saw Bannister's car on the hospital car park, he knew he was in trouble.
It had taken the best part of two hours for SOCO to arrive at the second hand warehouse. Then he'd been stuck in slow moving traffic, his eyes flicking between the road ahead and the clock on the dashboard.
Parking up, he jogged to the hospital entrance; five minutes later, he was puffing and blowing outside the door to the morgue. As soon as he entered Bannister glared over at him, Shannon was lodged into a chair that looked too small for him, a pen clasped between his huge hands.
'What time do you call this?' Bannister barked.
'Come on, I had to wait for SOCO to arrive, I couldn't just walk out of there.'
'Any bloody excuse,' Bannister spun away.
Lasser sighed heavily before closing the door and walking across the room. 'So how did you get on with the remains?'
Shannon dropped the pen onto the desk. 'It's Philips alright.'
'Well that's something I suppose.'
Bannister swivelled, the colour blasting across his face. 'What about the body in Skitters Wood? What about Sanderford...'
'I...'
'And now we have that bastard Brewster stirring the shit with a big wooden spoon.'
Lasser slid into one of the spare chairs. 'You caught up with him then?'
Bannister jabbed a finger in Lasser's face. 'I'm telling you that prick knows more than he's letting on.'
'So what did he have to say?'
'Fuck all as usual.' Bannister folded his arms. 'I mean people like him aren't interested in anything other than climbing back out of the shit heap they dig for themselves.'
'What about his phone?'
Bannister eased back into the chair. 'That's another thing as soon as I asked him for it he handed it over without the usual bollocks about police brutality.'
Lasser frowned. 'That doesn't sound like Brewster.'
'Plus, he had some smarmy solicitor with him,' Bannister rang his hands as if throttling a ghost.
'That means he has another phone.' Lasser said.
'I don't doubt it, sergeant.'
'So you think he's in contact with the man responsible?' Shannon asked.
Bannister snorted in disgust. 'Brewster likes to think he's a clever bastard, truth is he's so far up his own arse it's unreal. Whoever the killer is they'll have picked him because they know he can be used, end of story.'
'So what can you do about it?'
'Nothing,' Bannister snapped.
'What about the remains in Skitters Wood, have you managed to get any further Doc?' Lasser asked in an attempt to stop Bannister from going into meltdown.
'I'm afraid not sergeant, though I can tell you one thing, it isn't Sanderford.'
'And when were you going to tell us about this little nugget of truth?' Bannister glowered across the table.
'I was getting to it, don't worry, we took some DNA samples from the house on Foy Street, but they don't ma
tch the body from the woods.'
'Jesus Christ, so that means Sanderford's still out there and we're no nearer to identifying the body.'
'It looks that way.'
Bannister suddenly slapped his knees and stood up. 'Right I'm off home.'
Lasser looked at his boss in surprise. 'But it's only five o’clock.'
'Well what do you suggest we do sergeant? I mean, with Brewster on the case we might as well read about it in the morning papers.'
Shannon pursed his lips and nodded. 'It's no wonder they pay you the big bucks.'
Bannister smirked and pointed at his head. 'Up here for thinking, down here for dancing,' he shuffled his feet on the carpet.
Lasser looked at the man as if he'd lost the plot. 'Are you sure about this?'
'Positive, we've done all we can for one day, besides you're always moaning about the long hours,' he pointed a finger at Lasser. 'But I want you up bright and early, I don't want to have to stand in your bedroom again while you struggle into your trousers.'
Shannon watched in dismay as they left the room.
CHAPTER 43
He stood beneath the shower, watching as the red water swirled down the plughole. Whistling, the man squirted a splodge of shampoo into the palm of his right hand and lathered his hair, letting the hot needles spray onto his upturned face.
Five minutes later, he snapped off the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist before padding into the lounge.
The light through the window was beginning to fade, bathing the town in a strange half-light. Standing at the window, he rubbed absently at his wet hair, watching as the street lights below began to flicker to life.
Another hour and it would be fully dark and then he would head out again. Turning, he made his way over to the laptop, checking the words on the screen; he smiled to himself before pressing the print button. The Epsom in the corner began to whir and click, a couple of seconds later, the sheet of paper began to slide into the machine. Heading for the kitchen, the man yanked open the fridge door and pulled out the carton of milk, taking a huge gulp before dropping it back into the compartment.
Retracing his steps, he went to the printer and lifted the paper from its resting place.
More Equal Than Others. The DS Lasser series. Volume five: Robin Roughley Page 10
