'Don't you dare, sergeant, you went there to harass the man...'
'That's not the case...'
'So if you were both so concerned with Redgrove's welfare why did you refuse to have a couple of officers keep an eye on the place?'
Bannister placed his hands behind his back. 'With respect, I don't have the man power...'
'Oh, I was wondering when you'd produce that old chestnut,' Mills seethed.
'Unlike the others on the list, Mr Redgrove is in a position to move until all this is over.'
Mills shot to his feet, his face blooming with anger. 'List! Are you standing there and comparing a man with an impeccable record to the perverts on your bloody list?'
Bannister waited a couple of seconds before answering. 'Of course not sir.'
Mills narrowed his eyes. 'When I give a direct order I expect it to be followed to the letter.'
Bannister nodded.
When a knock came at the door, Mills ignored it, his eyes blazing at the two men in front of him. Lasser sniffed and straightened his shoulders.
The knock came again and Mills bellowed. 'Come in!'
Sergeant Meadows poked his head into the room his face squirming in apology. 'Er, DCI Bannister we have a problem, sir.'
Bannister turned. 'What sort of problem?'
'PC Owens has just been in touch, apparently there's been a fire...'
'So call the fire brigade.'
'It's at an address of one of the people on the list, sir.' Meadows said, casting a glance at Mills he blushed, as if he'd been caught gossiping over the garden wall.
Bannister turned back to the Super. 'Sir?'
Mills flapped a dismissive hand. 'Get out of my sight, but make no mistake I'm not done with either of you yet.'
Turning, they headed from the room; Meadows looked at them both and licked his lips.
'Nicely timed Meadows,' Bannister said with a half smile.
'Glad I could be of assistance sir.'
'Right, what's the address and who lives there?'
'Forty seven Stout Street, the occupier is one Clifford Bretherton.'
'Bretherton?' Lasser repeated.
'Yes sir.'
Bannister dragged his car keys from his pocket. 'Right Lasser, come on let's go to the bonfire.
CHAPTER 110
Brewster woke with an aching back, the bed was lumpy, the room drab. After spending two hours stalking the back streets of the town, he'd booked into the Oak Hotel and hit the complimentary bar. It had been two in the morning when he’d crashed back onto the bed. His brain, numbed with cheap booze had closed down for the night like an overheated computer going into hibernation.
Now he sat on the edge of the bed, his head hammering, the fear crawling up from the pit of his stomach like a cat climbing a scratch pole. He checked his watch and the fear ratcheted up to terror mode, the papers would be hitting the shelves soon and when the killer discovered that Brewster's promise had been broken, he would want to know the reason why.
Head in his hands, Brewster groaned in anguish, he had no idea what he was going to do if his phone rang. Could he simply ignore it and hope the problem went away, or dare he take the risk and try to explain that he'd tried his best but that bastard Lewis had refused to print the list. Maybe the killer would understand, perhaps he could deflect the anger towards Lewis. The thought of the editor cut up into bite sized chunks almost made him smile.
Then he thought of Bannister and the bastard sergeant who always seemed to follow him around like a whippet on a lead. If they were any good at their jobs, they'd have caught the madman by now and he would be appearing on every news bulletin, telling his story about how he had thwarted the serial killer.
'Bastards,' he hissed and scraped the hair back from his head.
He would have to stay here, lie low, and hope that the killer slipped up. Going back home wasn't an option, neither was turning up at work, and then he realised that he had no job to go to anyway, he'd told the editor at the local rag where he could stick his poxy job.
Brewster sighed, no job, no home to go to, and a madman who would probably track him down and stick his severed head on the church steps.
Staggering to his feet he wobbled over to the small cupboard, the mini bar was empty apart from a tiny bottle of sherry and a bag of dry roasted peanuts. Brewster slammed the door in anger and crawled his way back to the bed. Pulling the duvet over his head, he tried to get back to sleep.
CHAPTER 111
The man stood in the hallway of Kerrie Fleming's house and looked at the front page of the newspaper in disbelief.
Kerrie appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in a bath towel, her blond hair trailing over one shoulder. 'I thought you were only coming round tonight,' she said with a smile.
Folding the paper, he slid it under his right arm. 'I thought I'd surprise you.'
'You can come up and dry my back if you want?'
Loosening his tie, he climbed the stairs. When he reached the top, he took her in his arms and kissed her. After half a minute, he eased her away; her eyes bright with hunger.
'So I thought you were working this weekend?' she said as she nibbled his bottom lip.
'Shift change, but I'm on call so I might have to go out later.'
'So we can spend the day in bed?'
'Well I think I can spare you a few hours,' he unfastened the towel and cupped her right breast. Kerrie hooked a leg around the back of his legs; sliding a hand down to her buttocks he lifted her with ease. Wrapping her other leg around his body, he carried her to the bedroom.
CHAPTER 112
'We found body parts in the upstairs front bedroom,' the fire chief said, his face grey with shock. 'I tell you I've seen some things in my time, RTAs and suicides but never anything like that.'
Stout Street had been cordoned off; it had taken three fire engines to control the blaze, the air was full with the acrid stink of smoke.
'Right, I want to see the remains,' Bannister moved forward and the fire fighter grabbed his arm.
'Hang on you can't go in there!'
'I think you'll find...'
'The buildings structurally unsafe.'
Bannister flapped a hand. 'Don't worry I'm light on my feet.'
'Light or not you're not going in.'
'I...'
'And you can spout as many rules and regulations as you like but you still won't get inside that building. I mean, we've pulled everyone out, the bloody thing could go any second.'
'But it's a serious crime scene.'
The fire officer shrugged, he had a smudge of grime on either cheek. 'It makes no difference; you'll have to wait until the demolition team have made it safe.'
Lasser fiddled with the cigarettes in his pocket. 'And how long will that take?'
'I don't know, two maybe three days.'
'You're having a laugh?' Bannister snapped in disbelief.
'Afraid not.'
'But...'
'Look, I'll do what I can, but it'll take specialist equipment to sort this and we have to have it brought in from Liverpool.'
'Typical!' Bannister scowled and thrust his hands into his pockets. 'Right spill the beans what did you find in there?'
'At first we could see bugger all, I tell you the smoke was...'
'Spare me the dramatics; you said you found human remains now take it from there.'
The man frowned as if disappointed that he'd been cut off from telling a rip roaring tale. 'Torso on the bed, burnt to a crisp, arms, and legs scattered around the room.'
Banister nodded. 'What about a head?'
'No sign of it, but to be honest we could have missed it or the fire could have completely destroyed it.'
When the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks and black smoke, the fire officer strode away.
'Tommy, get the hose trained on the roof we don’t want a flare up.'
A high-powered jet of water arched into the soggy morning air.
Bannister rubbed at his
eyes and turned away. 'Come on Lasser we can do sod all here, we might as well see what Shannon has to say about Steven Barton.'
Once back in the car, Bannister watched the view from the window; smoke erupted from the demolished house, black holes stood where the windows used to sit.
'We could spend the next six months trying to second guess this guy,' he said in a drained voice.
'Maybe he's working to a pattern.'
'Yeah a pattern we know sod all about.'
'We're not getting the chance to take stock; all we're doing is dashing from one disaster to another.'
Bannister looked at Lasser. 'Right, fuck it.' Starting the car, he spun the wheel and accelerated down the street. Lasser clipped his seatbelt into place as Bannister pulled out onto the main road.
'Where are we going?'
'For a pint.'
'It's half eight in the morning!'
'I'm well aware of the time, Lasser.'
Bannister headed out of town, after ten minutes, he pulled down a narrow country lane, the pub came up on the left.
'Christ I'd forgotten about this place,' Lasser said, as they pulled onto the car park.
'It's the type of place businessmen bring their young secretaries and coppers come to die.' Bannister said with a tired smile.
The car park was deserted but the pub door was standing open. Parking up they climbed out and headed inside.
'Right, what drink gets the little grey cells working, sergeant?'
'I'll have a Guinness.'
The Landlady materialised as if from thin air. 'Hello Alan, I haven't seen you for a while.'
'Morning Stella, you know what it's like in this job, no time to socialise.'
Stella looked like a throwback to the sixties; her strawberry blond hair piled high in a beehive. Her lips painted a garish red, huge hooped earring's dangled down to her shoulders.
'Well it's nice to see you looking so well. Now what are you having?'
'Two pints of Guinness please sweetheart.'
'You sit down I'll bring them over.'
Banister smiled and slapped a tenner onto the bar. Crossing the room, they took a seat by the window; a scattering of leaves blew across the deserted car park.
'Right let's take stock, sergeant. We have a nutter who obviously bares a grudge against the sex offenders in this town.'
'Chances are he was either abused himself or someone close to him fell foul to one of them.'
'Agreed.'
'But you said he's not a local?'
'Correct.'
Stella walked over with the pints on a tray, placing them on the table she smiled. 'Anything else just give me a shout.'
Bannister scooped up his change. 'Thanks Stella.'
Turning, she sashayed back behind the bar.
Lasser sighed as he took a tug on the drink. 'What I don't get is how he knew we had these men in the first place. I mean, this place is known for meat pies and black satanic mills...'
'Don't forget the pier.'
'That doesn't actually exist.'
Bannister shrugged before taking a gulp of the black liquid.
'It isn't known as a retirement home for paedophiles. I mean, did you have any idea there were so many kicking about?'
'No I didn't.'
'So if we didn't know then Joe public would have had no chance.'
'Right, so it has to be someone who would have been in the loop.'
'Cropper?'
Bannister scratched at his chin. 'Possibly, though if he does know then he isn't going to tell us.'
'Because the more this guy kills the happier Cropper will be.'
'Can't say I blame him on that score.'
Lasser nodded in agreement before pulling out his phone and stabbing at the keys.
'Who are you ringing?'
'Coyle.'
Bannister took another sip and stretched his legs out beneath the table.
'Susan it's me, where are you? Good, now I want you to check out Simon Cropper. I know it's already been done, but go back to the initial arrest, see if he spent time with anyone while he was on remand. I want to know the names of anyone dodgy, the same goes for the time he's been in Leigh,' he paused. 'Right, quick as you can and you can get me on my mobile.' Hanging up, he dropped the phone back into his pocket.
'I can't see any link between the victims.' Bannister grumbled into his glass.
'Well we know Philips and Sanderford were in contact with one another.'
'Which should never have been allowed to happen,' Bannister said darkly.
'Yeah well, with the way Redgrove and Bolt have been carrying on there are gonna be more deviants than social workers in this town.'
Bannister gave a wry smile. 'You're a sarcastic sod.'
'Then we have Brewster.'
'Don't worry about that tosser; he'll be hiding somewhere, praying we catch him then he can get his mug on the front of the Star.'
'Now who's being sarcastic?'
Bannister licked a moustache of froth from his top lip. 'No, it has to be Cropper or someone like him who provided the list.'
'Kerrie Fleming?'
Bannister frowned. 'What are you talking about, according to you the woman was glad to see the back of the place?'
'Yeah, but Cropper said she had problems of her own...'
'Back then maybe, but he also said the people in that department were under a lot of stress, what did he say, there was a lot of..?'
'Backstabbing going on.'
'Exactly.'
Another car pulled onto the car park and Lasser watched as a thickset bloke in his fifties struggled from the car. When the passenger door opened and a shapely leg appeared, Lasser grinned.
Bannister sighed as the woman climbed from the car; she looked to be in her early twenties, blond and stunning.
'He could be her father.' The DCI said.
The man slid his hand around her waist and guided her towards the entrance.
'You were saying.'
Bannister tilted his glass and finished the drink. 'Right come on, we have work to do.'
By the time Lasser had drained his glass, Bannister was looking at him through the window with a frown on his face.
He hurried outside, the tall blond smiled at him as he strode past, the thickset man frowned and pulled his trophy closer.
CHAPTER 113
Turning down the gas, he stirred the scrambled eggs, watching as the milk and butter melted. He had the phone trapped between jaw and shoulder, the ringing tone droned in his ear. After thirty seconds the trilling stopped, placing the wooden spoon on the worktop, he pressed the redial button and waited.
The anger started to build, flipping open the newspaper he scanned the front page again which showed the front of the Ship Inn, the tagline read 'Horrific Murder in the Gents.' No mention of the list, no names printed in big bold letters. Once again, the phone chirruped and died.
'Something smells good.'
Plastering a smile on his face, he glanced over his shoulder. Kerrie stood in the doorway wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe a shapely leg peeped through the slit in the robe.
'I thought you were asleep?'
'What are you making?'
'Scrambled eggs, I was going to bring it up to you.'
Kerrie smiled. 'Who'd have thought I'd have found the perfect man in a town like this.'
'This place isn't so bad.' The man turned and stirred the pan.
'Ah that's because you don't really know the place.'
'Yeah well, I can understand how you feel. I mean, in your job you get to see the rougher side of the tracks.'
Kerrie shivered and pulled the robe tight around her. 'At least I don't have to babysit a bunch of paedophiles anymore.'
'That must have been hard?'
Kerrie crossed the room and placed her hands on his shoulders. 'I used to hate it.'
'According to the paper someone hated them a lot more than you did.'
'There's been another one?' she ask
ed wide-eyed.
Handing her the paper, he grabbed a couple of plates as she read the front page.
'Barton!' she gasped.
'You knew him?'
'Remember I told you about the guy I used to work with who attacked one of the offenders?'
'Simon Cropper?'
'Mm, well Barton was the man he beat up.'
He took a taste of the food, frowned, and then sprinkled some salt and pepper into the mix.
'Coincidence?'
'Well at least they can't blame Simon this time,' she said with a frown.
Opening the fridge, he pulled out a carton of fresh apple juice and poured a glass. 'You really hated that job didn't you?'
'Hated isn't the word, some of the people I worked with were bad enough, but when you have people like Redgrove and Bolt piling on the work until you felt as if you couldn't function, well let's just say I was glad to get out.'
'Tough job.'
'They treated it like a production line, five years I was there, and I saw Redgrove twice in all that time.'
'So he wasn't hands on?'
Kerrie spooned some of the scrambled egg into her mouth. 'This is delicious!'
'Glad you like it.'
'Redgrove would sooner spend his days playing golf and Bolt wasn't much better. I mean it's the kind of job where you need a boss who's approachable.'
'And they were the opposite?' The man could feel the fury curled tight in the pit of his stomach.
'All they were bothered about was the audit and saving money,' she said with a hint of disgust.
Taking a sip of juice from his glass, he shrugged. 'Well you never know, the authorities might decide that these two men bear some of the responsibility for what's happening?'
'Don't you believe it, Bolt's an idiot, but Redgrove's not stupid, he'll walk away and let Bolt take all the blame.'
'But Redgrove is the one in charge...'
'On paper, but he'll point to the fact that Bolt was responsible for the day to day running of the department. He'll say Bolt kept everything hidden from him, he'll go on the telly and deny any knowledge of how bad things were.'
Pushing the plate away, the fury ratcheted up another notch.
'Are you ok?' Kerrie looked across the table, her face creased in concern.
More Equal Than Others. The DS Lasser series. Volume five: Robin Roughley Page 28
