The Way That It Falls: DS Lasser series volume 2 (The DS Lasser series.)

by Robin Roughley

Callum took a step forward and then stopped his chest heaving, hands grasping at thin air.

  ‘Oh, what were you going to do, Callum, hit me? Slap me around a little for telling the truth,’ she jabbed out her finger again. ‘You're worse than Jimmy, at least he has the drugs as an excuse.’

  Callum juddered forward like a piece of rigid machinery left out in the rain for years and seized solid.

  ‘Don’t you ever compare me to that cunt!’ he screamed, spittle flew from his mouth. ‘If you had any sense you'd have seen he was a loser from day one. I mean, every other fucker could see it apart from you.’

  ‘Yes well, perhaps I’m just blind where men are concerned. I thought I loved him and I was wrong. He’s everything you said and you’re right I should have seen through him, but it hurts me more to think that I didn’t see through you sooner.’

  She turned and headed for the door.

  ‘You can think what you like, but you are going nowhere!’ he bellowed, all pretence blown away to reveal the fury beneath.

  ‘You don’t own me, Callum and let me tell you something else, when that man came into the house and saw what that bastard had done, he looked at me and I could tell he was sorry for what had happened.’ She took a shuddering breath, her nerves in tatters. ‘And if he’d asked me to go with him I would have done it, so what does that say about me?’

  Callum blinked and swayed from side to side like a tree dragged from its roots.

  ‘What does it say about you?’ she spat.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Grabbing a coffee from the machine, Lasser sipped it as he headed towards Rimmer’s office. He tried to work out the best way to approach this and concluded that, however he decided to play it, the words would still sound like an accusation, standing at the door, he took a deep breath.

  ‘He ain't in, boss.’

  Carl from forensics was striding past, a clear evidence bag clasped in his hand.

  ‘Any idea where he’s gone?’

  ‘Well as far as I know he’s out looking for Craig Green.’

  Lasser frowned. ‘Why would he be looking for that piece of shit?’

  ‘Well, according to his big brother he’s gone walkabout, hasn’t been seen for about four days.’

  Lasser grimaced. ‘So why has Green waited till now before getting us lot involved?’

  ‘Come on, boss, I spend my days staring down a microscope looking for clues, it’s your job to get out in the big bad world and shuffle through the shit.’

  Lasser sighed, suddenly feeling tired. ‘Thing is, Carl, I don’t know why we bloody bother. I mean, if Craig Green is dead then who gives a toss, his drug baron brother? Or is he just pissed because someone had the nerve to do it?’

  ‘Come on, boss, it’s not like you to be philosophical.’

  Lasser rubbed a hand across his eyes before replying. ‘I’m just sick of it, chasing people who don’t give a toss if they do go to jail, because they know that sooner or later they’ll be back on the street and that nothing will have changed. They’re taking the piss, they know it and so do we...’

  ‘Well thank you for that insight, Sergeant Lasser.’

  Carl spun around his face white with shock.

  Lasser recognised Bannister’s voice and closed his eyes. The scary thing was that he didn’t flinch, he didn’t spin around and try to apologise, or justify himself.

  Instead, he set off walking, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the double doors in front of him.

  ‘Lasser, I haven’t finished!’

  Ignoring his superior officer, he pushed his way through the doors; a moment later, he was outside breathing in a lung full of freezing air. Pulling out his fags, he lit up, his hand shaking in frustration. Yet despite his jangling nerves, he felt strangely liberated as if a weight had been plucked from his shoulders.

  He was halfway across the car park when Bannister barrelled out of the door.

  ‘Lasser, stay exactly where you are!’

  He stopped and looked down at the snow, imagining himself crouching to make a snowball and turning to skim it toward the DCI, the image brought a weary smile to his face.

  Bannister crunched towards him, Lasser watched as a kestrel hovered in the sky, gradually swooping lower as it closed in on its unsuspecting prey.

  Bannister moved in front of him and frowned at the cigarette dangling from Lasser’s mouth.

  Lasser dropped it into the snow with a sigh.

  When he spoke, Bannister’s voice was low and brittle. ‘I’m no idiot, Sergeant. I realise that people who work under me are individuals and entitled to their own opinions. I would even go so far as to say I agree with certain aspects of your outburst.’

  Lasser saw the Kestrel plummet to earth.

  ‘I also realise that what you said was in the form of a private conversation.’

  ‘I...’

  Bannister held up a hand. ‘Look, Sergeant, I’ve been doing this job long enough to know how these things work. As far as you’re concerned I’m just some career copper who sticks his head in the sand and is only interested in facts and figures, am I right?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the words were out of his mouth before he had time to consider the implications. He had just called his boss an arsehole and whichever way you looked at it that couldn’t be good for your career prospects.

  To his surprise, Bannister smiled and nodded. ‘You know before I took over this job I made it my business to find out about the officers I was going to be working with. In fact, I’d already received some feedback on you from DCI Simms.’ Bannister thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat, letting this information sink in. ‘He spoke highly of you, Lasser, which was unusual because Donald was very selective with his praise.’

  Lasser didn’t know what to say, it felt ridiculous but he couldn’t stop the feeling of pride that welled up inside.

  ‘So, if he singled you out then he must have had a very good reason for doing so. Although, to tell you the truth, I’m not really seeing it at the moment.’

  The sense of pride vanished as if it had never existed.

  ‘Right, sir.’

  Bannister checked his watch. ‘What do you think of Callum Green?’

  The question was so unexpected that Lasser thought he had misheard it. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t follow.’

  ‘DI Rimmer tells me you think he’s as bent as they come.’

  Lasser looked down at the cigarette in the snow and longed to light another. Bannister watched him closely.

  He swallowed and took the plunge. ‘I think he’s responsible for three quarters of all the drugs in this town and he’s pissing up our backs.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  The Kestrel flew away over Bannister’s left shoulder. Lasser couldn’t make out whether it was carrying anything in its talons. ‘But I thought...’

  ‘I know what you thought, Sergeant, you think I have him tagged as a legitimate haulage contractor who happens to have an undeserved reputation for flaunting the law.’

  ‘It just seems whenever we have anything to do with the likes of him, it’s never followed through.’

  ‘Have you ever heard of Charles Munroe?’

  Lasser could feel his feet beginning to go numb with the cold, ‘The guy who owns the new jewellers in town?’

  ‘Jewellers, haulage contractors, they all have to have a front.’

  ‘You mean he’s...’

  ‘A much bigger version of Callum Green.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘As the surname implies, he’s from north of the border, but now lives out on the Wirral. In just a little over five years, he’s taken over the drugs trade covering the whole of north Wales and large chunks of Merseyside. Now I know you’re no fool, so if he’s managed to take over scouse land then he has to be big time.’

  ‘So, why would he bother with this place, I mean, you can hardly call Wigan big time.’

  ‘I think he sees it more of a stepping stone to Manchester and beyond.’
/>   ‘And you think he’s the one responsible for Craig Green’s disappearance?’

  Bannister shrugged. ‘Green has put in a missing person application on his younger brother, so it seems a possibility’

  ‘He’s probably dead.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, and then we have the abduction of Green’s brother-in-law.’

  ‘Jimmy Butcher?’

  ‘Precisely, now I don’t believe in coincidence and I am sure that Green would like to take care of these issues on his own,’ he paused. ‘Though it appears he is somewhat out of his depth.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘It’s called making use of the tools at our disposal, you should try it sometimes.’

  Lasser could feel his face burn with anger or embarrassment he wasn’t sure which.

  ‘Now I want you to find out what you can about Munroe and more importantly who is doing his dirty work for him.’

  ‘Plymouth.’

  Bannister raised an eyebrow. ‘Excuse me.’

  By the time, Lasser finished explaining about his visit with Rosalynn McQueen and her description of the blond haired man, the temperature in the car park had plummeted. A bitter wind howled across the miles of open fields cutting through his clothing, leaving him feeling as if he were standing naked in a world of white. When he explained about his meeting with Plymouth outside Munroe’s shop, Bannister was actually smiling.

  ‘So we have a suspect.’

  ‘And according to Plymouth, he lives out on the Welsh borders.’

  ‘Right, see if you can find him and bring him in for questioning.’

  ‘Will do, sir.’

  ‘One more thing before I let you go, have you any idea why Green would ring DI Rimmer when he found out about the altercation at his sister’s house?’

  Yeah, because I think he’s a bent bastard, he thought the words, but kept them to himself. Bannister might be giving the impression of somehow confiding in him, but years of not trusting authority had left him with an inbuilt wariness. ‘I couldn’t say, sir.’

  Bannister nodded sharply, as if he had expected the guarded reply. ‘Right well, I suggest you get home and make a fresh start in the morning’.

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Bannister brushed past him and crunched his way back towards the building.

  Lasser pulled out another cigarette and shuffled to his car.

  Once inside, he pulled hard on the smoke as he waited for the car to reach working temperature, his mind playing back over the conversation. Fifteen minutes ago, he had been convinced he had burned his bridges, and in truth, he'd been ready to walk away from a job that no longer had any relevance in his life. For weeks, he'd felt redundant, as if everything was a waste of time and effort. Now he suddenly felt revitalised, he could see the bigger fish swimming in the small pond and he was standing on the bank ready to toss in a stick of dynamite.

  The clock on the dashboard said half past four, the light had already begun to diffuse, the sky turning dark as the pale winter sun gave up the ghost for another day.

  He thought about returning home and immediately dismissed the idea, he needed to see Cathy, needed to resolve the issues that, until two days ago, he hadn’t even realised existed.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  For the first time in months, Suzi felt warm and snug, she had no idea what the doctor had given her but it was good stuff. Whenever she had sniffed the coke that Barry had provided, it would give her a quick buzz and then leave her feeling anxious and paranoid.

  After spending a night in the cells, a social worker called, Karen had turned up and two hours later, she’d been transferred to the local drug rehabilitation centre.

  Beneath her head the pillow crackled as she looked around the small room. The bed opposite was occupied, but all Suzi could see was the shape of someone lying beneath the thin sheet, the head buried underneath a pillow, a wisp of dark hair poking out.

  Lifting the tumbler of water from the small bedside cabinet, she poured herself a glass and took a gulp.

  The door opened and a young nurse came into the room pushing a trolley in front of her.

  ‘Hello, Suzi, awake at last,’ she smiled; her red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, a spray of light freckles brushed her cheeks and nose.

  ‘What time is it?’ Suzi yawned and tried to push herself up the bed, but her arms suddenly felt weak and she gave up with a sigh.

  Moving to the side of the bed, the nurse linked her arms around Suzi’s back and slid her up, managing somehow to plump her pillows at the same time. When she eased her back, it was as if she were sinking into a huge marshmallow.

  ‘Almost dinner time, now what would you like?’ she held out a printed menu and Suzi had to blink a few times until her eyes focused.

  ‘Soup, please.’

  ‘What about a sweet?’ she leaned forward. ‘The cheesecake is good, but don’t have the rice pudding, it tastes nasty.’ She screwed up her face and winked.

  Suzi smiled up at her. ‘I love cheesecake.’

  ‘Good, that’s sorted,’ she held out a couple of tablets. ‘Could you take these for me?’

  Suzi plucked them from her hand, popped them into her mouth and swallowed.

  ‘Would you like a drink to wash them down?’

  Suzi opened her mouth to show that the tablets had already vanished; there was something childlike about the way she did it as if desperate to please.

  The nurse gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Good girl.’

  By the time the woman with the ponytail had crossed the room, Suzi was starting to feel drowsy, the medication swept through her system taking away the pain and replacing it with a kind of comforting confusion.

  If anyone had asked her name, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them. The money, the strangers who had paid her for sex and the constant gnawing in her stomach were all washed away by the tablets. An enema for the soul.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Lasser rolled over and draped his arm across the pillow, his eyes flicking open when he felt the cold spot. He groaned and pushed himself up in bed, his mind instantly turning over last night’s events like a cement mixer full of broken bricks.

  After his conversation with Bannister, he had headed out to the hospital determined to get Cathy to change her mind about going to her parents. By the time he arrived she had been dressed and on the verge of leaving. She sat at the side of the bed in a red hospital wheelchair while her father emptied the small bedside cabinet, dropping a half-full bottle of Lucozade into a plastic carrier bag, and throwing the last few remaining grapes into the bin. When he spotted Lasser hovering outside the room, he frowned and then leant over and whispered something into his daughter's ear.

  ‘Give us a couple of minutes will you, dad?’

  Her father had brushed past him without uttering a word.

  Lasser had moved into the room, suddenly feeling awkward. ‘So, you’re off then?’

  ‘Mm,’ she tried to smile but it seemed like too much of an effort. ‘I was going to give you a call when I got to my parents.’

  Despite his best intentions, Lasser couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry I just don’t know what to say. I mean, I thought you might have had a change of heart.’

  ‘I understand, but it’s like I said yesterday, this is something I have to think through seriously.’

  ‘I get that; I just can’t help thinking that you’ve already made your mind up.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘The job,’ he paused, ‘us.’

  ‘Well you’re wrong. I mean, right now the thought of going back to work terrifies me, but we’re still cool aren’t we?’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘Well yeah, I just thought that maybe you were having second thoughts about...’

  ‘Look, I told you, I love spending time with you and we’re good together,’ she paused, ‘I just
wonder whether we’ll still have anything in common if I do decide to leave the job.’

  ‘Well why wouldn’t we? I mean, it’s not as if we spend all our time talking about work.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s the conclusion I’ve come to, so you see you have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Listen, all being well I should be off on Monday, maybe I could come over to Southport and visit?’

  ‘That would be good; and if the weather’s nice I might even let you push me along the beach.’

  ‘Your dad seems like a decent bloke.’

  Cathy raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you being sarcastic, he just ignored you?’

  Lasser shrugged. ‘I’m sure given the chance I can win him over.’

  ‘Do you want to push me to the car?’ she said with a smile.

  The journey through the hospital was conducted in silence, Lasser tried to think of an approach that would break the ice with Cathy’s father. However, it was difficult seeing as how he stormed ahead, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to throw Lasser a black look.

  Ankle deep in fresh snow he waved them off, watching as the taillights vanished into the night. Some of his concerns had eased though he had a suspicion that Cathy’s parents would try to persuade her to break all ties with her past life, including her fledgling relationship with him. Sadly, he made his way home.

  It was early Sunday morning and clambering from the bed, Lasser made his way into the shower. Ten minutes later, he was heading through the front door with a piece of carbonised toast clamped between his teeth. It was snowing again, large lazy flakes that drifted from a tin foil sky. The roads were empty and the view from the car window showed a town smothered in the grip of an iron cold winter. The thrill of the snow had passed; snowmen built by the kids, lay demolished, as they became bored with the white stuff. Even the Tesco car park was empty, so he took the opportunity to nip inside and buy forty cigarettes before filling the car with petrol.

  He pulled up outside Munroe’s shop, as expected the shutters were down and locked in place. So he spun the car around and headed out to the Oak Hotel. The building was a four-story affair, built in the late seventies when stone cladding was the height of fashion. To add to the tarnished effect, the paint on the windows was peeling, and random weeds grew in the gutter. Inside the building, the heat was stifling, the smell of cooking vegetables adding to the workhouse feel of the place.