Bannister swung his legs off the desk and told his counterpart about the killings.
'Yeah, I've been watching the news it sounds as if you have your hands full. But I still don't see why you want a word with Mack?'
'Because he was the one who interviewed Cropper, he was the one who jacked the job in and then came all the way over here to have another word with the man.'
'Hang on; I hope you're not suggesting he has anything to do with the killings?'
'Come on Paul, I need to catch up with the man, I...'
'Yes well, I can't help you,' West snapped.
'What about his records?'
DCI West's voice was no more than a hissed whisper. 'What about them?'
'Can you send them over?'
'I'm not happy about this.'
'To be honest Paul, I don't care whether you're happy or not. Now will you do it?'
The line went quite for a moment and Bannister thought West had hung up. 'You always were a bit of a bastard weren't you Alan?'
'You have to admit Paul, it's nice to know some things don't change.'
'Like I said, a bastard.'
'I'll expect them by tomorrow morning.'
'I...'
Bannister clicked off the phone and tossed it onto his desk. 'Twat.'
CHAPTER 128
Redgrove smiled as he took a glass of champagne from the tray, the waitress blushed as Redgrove's eyes dropped to her breasts, he arched an eyebrow the smile widening. The girl turned and hurried away. Neil sighed and took a sip from the glass, the speech had gone well, the six month targets had been hit in fact the department had done better than expected.
Oh, the killings had been mentioned, though ultimately pounds shillings and pence were the important factors in life. Besides no one could point the finger, everyone was in the same boat; departments were having to prune back the dead branches, cut the waste and move on. Eventually, the police would catch the man responsible and then things would inevitably drift back to normal.
He spotted the waitress again and pondered her age, sixteen maybe seventeen it was so difficult to tell these days. Facially she looked young but her body said otherwise, taking another sip, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar lamenting the fact that he would have to go outside to smoke it.
The local mayor looked over and smiled, the ridiculous chain of office hanging around his neck. Redgrove raised his glass in acknowledgment before weaving his way towards the front door. Laughter rang out and he caught brief sound bites of conversations as he moved across the room.
The huge entrance hall was empty, his shoes clicked on the ancient tiles as he walked towards the huge set of doors. Pulling them open with a flourish, he shivered as the thin breeze sneaked inside the hallway.
The lights of the town shimmered in the distance; pale moonlight bathed the golf course that ran down towards the canal. Redgrove let out a contented sigh and lit the cigar blowing a plume of smoke into the night sky.
He thought of Silvia and grimaced, idiotic woman, in an ideal world he would have divorced her years ago. Trouble was her elderly parents were rich, not merely wealthy but stinking rich and that wasn't the sort of thing you turned your back on. Besides, his wife was wonderfully gullible, in the twenty-five years they'd been married he'd had at least half a dozen affairs and more one night stands than he could count. In the distance, he heard the blast of a train whistle as it pulled into the station.
In fact, tonight's results caused for something of a celebration, maybe he could go and see Ruth his latest conquest. The fact that she doubled as his secretary as well as providing a more intimate form of stress release, only added to the excitement. He smiled and thought about the day before, he'd been on the phone to a local councillor discussing the next wave of redundancies, Ruth had been on her knees under the table, her head bobbing up and down as he chatted away.
Redgrove chuckled, yes perhaps he should give her a call, tell her he needed her back at the office. The fact that she was married was immaterial; if he snapped his fingers then he knew she would come running. Checking his watch, he grunted, another hour here and then he would say his goodbyes and give her a call. Maybe they could do it in the car, he felt a shiver of pleasure, it had been years since he'd done that. The thought of her bouncing up and down in his lap while the stars shone above was thrilling.
Redgrove dropped the half-smoked cigar onto the floor and stamped on it. When he turned to leave, he found his path blocked.
'Oh,' he said as the shadow moved forward.
CHAPTER 129
Lasser was standing at the front door when the cavalry arrived; Sally Wright behind the wheel, Steve Black in the passenger seat. He walked across the lawn as they scrambled from the car.
'Evening sir,' Sally said with a smile.
'Alright, Sally,' he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. 'Not sure if it's a break in or the owners flipped out but SOCO are on their way.'
Steve Black slid the cap onto his head. 'Do you want us to have a nosey around sir?'
'Not yet Steve, we don't want the owner to turn up and find you rooting through her frillies.'
Black cleared his throat and nodded; Sally looked at him and shook her head in amusement.
'So what should we do if the owner shows up?' she asked.
'If there's any trouble you can get me on my mobile, if not then I'll see you two in the morning.' Climbing into his car, he sparked up a smoke and watched as the two officers moved in through the front door like a married couple. Starting the engine, he backed down the drive and headed back to the main road. He could see a sparkling of frost on the grass verge; the sky awash with pinprick stars.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the cul-de-sac, Suzanne's Range Rover was parked on the drive, Bannister's Audi tucked up behind. Climbing out, he went to the door and rang the bell, a few seconds later Medea was standing in the doorway.
'Could I interest you in double glazing, Miss?'
She leapt forward into his arms and kissed him.
'I take it you missed me then?' he asked with a smile.
'Not really.'
She took hold of his hand and led him through to the kitchen; Bannister was poking a stir-fry with a wooden spoon. Suzanne was sitting at the huge table a glass of wine in her hand. Kelly was rooting in the fridge, when she saw Lasser a light flush of colour rose in her cheeks.
Bannister looked over his shoulder. 'How come you always turn up just before the food hits the plate?'
'How come you're not wearing your piny?'
Bannister frowned and Kelly sniggered.
'Would you like some wine?' Suzanne asked.
'Please.'
Red or white?'
'Believe me Su, Lasser won't know the difference.' Bannister smirked.
Suzanne stood up and looked at the two men. 'Are you two always like this?'
'Like what?' they repeated together.
'Never mind,' she said with a shake of her head.
Lasser pulled a chair from the table and sat down, Medea slid in beside him.
'So did you find Hughes?' Bannister asked as he lifted the wok from the flame.
By the time Lasser had explained, Bannister had piled the food onto four plates. 'Are you sure you don't want any, Kelly?'
'No thanks I'm going up to my room.'
'Ok, but no loud music and don't fall asleep again with the telly on.'
Kelly ignored him and headed from the room.
Bannister mumbled darkly before placing the plates on the table.
'So you don't think it was a break in?' he asked through tight lips like a bad ventriloquist.
'More like someone lost the plot and smashed the place up.'
'Hughes?'
'Could be, but we don't know if she's married or living with someone. I mean it could have been a domestic.'
Bannister nodded and forked a mountain of noodles into his mouth.
Lasser hadn't realised how hungry he was and attacked
the food with relish.
'I got in touch with a colleague over in Manchester and he's sending Mack's file over in the morning.'
'So we still don't know where he is?'
Bannister glugged some wine into his glass. 'Not a clue but DCI West was none too happy when I questioned him about Mack's record.'
'Who's Mack?' Suzanne asked.
'Just someone we'd like a word with.'
'About the killings?'
Bannister looked uncomfortable. 'Mm.'
Lasser slid a hand into his inside pocket, his fingers brushed against the photograph. Looking over his shoulder, he pulled it free and slid it face down across the table towards Bannister.
'What's this?'
Suddenly Lasser felt a flood of embarrassment wash across his face. 'It's a picture of Carly Hughes,' he said in a quiet voice.
Bannister frowned and dragged it towards him the way a card sharp will lift a card in the hope that no one else will see it. Lasser watched as his bosses eyes sprang wide.
'What is it?' Suzanne asked and Bannister slapped it back face down onto the table.
'Where did you get this?' he asked.
'It was in a shoebox along with some other,' he paused, 'colourful images.'
Lasser could feel Medea's eyes on him but he remained facing forward his eyes locked on Bannister. 'So what do you reckon?'
'What people get up to in the privacy of their own homes is up to them.' Bannister snapped his eyes flitting around the room.
'But look at the bloke, he's gotta be twenty, thirty years older than her.'
Bannister shrugged. 'Not out concern.'
'Oh, for God's sake,' Suzanne snapped out a hand, Bannister made a grab for the photograph but he was far too slow.
'What the bloody hell..!
Suzanne snatched her hand away and smiled thinly.
'There are no secrets in this house Alan, you know that.'
'But...'
Suzanne looked at the picture and for a couple of seconds her brow crinkled in disgust, then her eyes widened in surprise. 'Hang on I've seen this man before.'
'You what!' Bannister spluttered in disbelief.
Suzanne leant across the table and handed the photograph to Medea, Lasser cringed as he watched her study the image. 'Well it certainly looks like him,' she said pensively.
'Like who, for God's sake!'
Medea looked up. 'When we got home earlier we had the TV on, I mean we weren't actually watching it as such. But when the local news came on we turned it up in case they said anything about the killer.'
'And did they?' Lasser asked.
Medea looked at him and smiled, Lasser felt a flood of relief.
'Not really, but they showed a picture of this man,' she tapped a finger onto the photograph.
Lasser looked across the table; he could see the confusion in Bannister's eyes mirroring his own. 'I don't understand.'
'They were talking about a house fire in town and apparently this was the man who lived there. I think they said his name was Bretherton.'
CHAPTER 130
He watched from the shadows, melded to the gnarled trunk of a huge Douglas fir tree, the ground beneath his feet felt spongy with fallen needles. He'd been about to leave the cover of the trees when the woman had gone storming past, her heels clicking on the stone path.
Now he looked on in surprise as she lurched forward, her hands raised, then he heard Redgrove gasp, he had hold of her shoulders thrusting her back and forth her hair flying.
'Are you mad!' Redgrove snarled.
'Please,' she wailed and lunged forward again.
The man heard the heavy slap of a hand hitting skin and the woman staggered back.
He felt the cold uncoil in his gut, slipping a hand inside his jacket he pulled out the blade.
'Stupid bitch,' Redgrove hissed and took a step forward. Reaching out he grasped her by the hair. She whimpered and he lashed out again cracking her hard across the cheek.
From inside the hall a cheer went up as if the partygoers were watching the outrage through the window and applauding the abuse.
The man tightened his grip on the cleaver, the anger roared through his head.
'You dare to come here!' Redgrove tugged hard on her hair, dragging her toward the building.
The woman gasped again as they moved into the shadows, a few seconds later, he could hear Redgrove grunting, the woman panting light and fast. When the moon slid from a thin covering of cloud, the man looked at the scene in confusion.
She was bent over, her hands braced against the sandstone wall, legs spread wide. Redgrove was standing behind her thrusting forward and back his face tilted towards the heavens.
'Bitch!' he spat and pushed her forward until her face mashed against the cold rough stone. 'This is what happens when you disobey me.'
The woman looked over her shoulder, her face twisted in a strange kind of euphoria. Redgrove gasped and snapped rigid as he climaxed and then he moved back casually fastening his trousers, the woman turned, leaning her back against the wall she started to cry.
'Stop snivelling,' Redgrove patted his pockets as if searching for something.
'He's dead,' the woman said in a shaking voice.
Redgrove sniffed as if he were inhaling a huge line of cocaine. 'What are you talking about?'
'Clifford,' she paused, 'Clifford's dead.'
Redgrove swiped a hand across his hair and then patted it just so.
'Don't be ridiculous...'
'He was in the house that burned down, I've been there, spoken to the neighbours...'
Redgrove shot out a hand and grasped her by the throat. 'What are you talking about, Bretherton doesn't live around here!'
The man in the trees hesitated ignoring the voice that told him to walk across the path and take Redgrove's head.
'But he does,' she grunted and pushed Redgrove's hand away. 'He's been here for six months.'
Redgrove took an unsteady step back. 'What!'
'I...'
He lashed out, her head snapped left. 'How did he end up back here?'
The front set of double doors banged open and Redgrove slammed her back against the wall. A man in a black suit and bow tie walked down the steps and then turned right before disappearing around the side of the building.
Redgrove snatched a glance towards the doors before dragging her forward. 'Go home Carly...'
'But...'
Redgrove lifted his hand and she cowered back. 'Go home and wait for me do you understand?'
She nodded a response.
'And you'd better have your excuses ready.'
'I...'
He pushed her hard and she staggered away before falling to her knees.
Redgrove flapped his hands as if he were chasing away a stray cat. 'Go, go,' he urged.
The woman shot to her feet and took one last look at him before spinning away and running along the path. Her coat streamed out behind her, her sobs unravelling in the cold night air, breath billowing in despair. When the man turned, Redgrove was straightening his tie, running both hands across his grey-flecked hair as he moved back through the entrance.
By the time the door clicked closed, the man was running away from the hall, his fury flickering like a blowtorch in a force ten storm.
CHAPTER 131
By the time Brewster arrived home, he was close to exhaustion, he'd walked for over three hours to reach Horwich town centre and then spent another thirty minutes trying to find a cash machine. Then to top it all it had started to rain while he stood at the empty taxi rank. On the five-mile journey back to Wigan, he had fallen asleep in the back seat, lulled by the heater and the sway of the car.
Now he jabbed at the lift button in anger, the taxi ride had cost him almost thirty quid, the driver had pulled a face when Brewster had handed the money over minus a tip.
'Thanks for nothing,' the driver had snapped before pulling away, tyres squealing.
The lift doors glided open and Brewste
r staggered inside and sighed as they slid closed.
What a night, what a bloody horrendous night, tied and beaten, close to death and all because of Shane Lewis. The thought of the editor stoked his sleeping anger; he would get some sleep that is if he could manage to close his eyes without seeing a glinting axe whistling towards his head. As soon as it came light, he would go and see Lewis and smash his teeth down his throat.
When the doors slid open, he stepped into the hallway and shuffled towards the door. It took three attempts before he fumbled the key into the lock; it was like being drunk but minus the fun. When he pushed the door open, he saw the envelope on the floor, with a groan Michael bent to retrieve it.
Tearing it open he read the words in disbelief, it was from the letting agent informing him that due to non-payment of rent he was obliged to vacate the premises within fourteen days.
Michael Brewster ripped the letter into tiny pieces as his resolve cracked, stamping his feet, tears coursing down his cheeks, he slumped against the wall before sliding slowly down to the hardwood floor. A few seconds later, his wailing turned to a kind of cracked laughter that echoed around the apartment.
'Greasy pole,' he shouted before rolling onto his side. Drawing up his legs his thumb slipped between his dry lips, he slept.
CHAPTER 132
Carly sat behind the wheel her hands shaking, her cheek burning from where Redgrove had slapped her. Her mind felt brittle like a dark stretch of water covered with thin ice that whispered and groaned under some invisible weight.
'Go back to the house and wait for me.'
Redgrove's words echoed inside her head, he'd been angry, furious that she'd turned up unannounced, but she hadn't known what to do, who to turn to.
Reaching under her skirt she tentatively touched her sex, feeling the stickiness she groaned.
Neil would punisher her when he found out what she'd done, the thought left her feeling breathless with fear and want.
She could see him tying her to the bed, spreading her legs wide, as always the mask would be in place, the aura around him would crackle with anger.
More Equal Than Others. The DS Lasser series. Volume five: Robin Roughley Page 32
