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

by Robin Roughley

  Reception was empty, though he could hear laughter coming from behind a door marked staff only. He pressed a buzzer for attention and waited, when no one put in an appearance, he rang again keeping his finger pressed on the button.

  A few seconds later a man pushed his way through the door, dressed in a purple uniform, the image of an oak tree silhouetted on the lapel of his jacket; a sprinkling of dandruff dusted his shoulders.

  ‘Good morning, how can I help you?’

  ‘I’m trying to get in touch with someone and I believe he’s staying here.’

  ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘Plymouth.’

  He tapped away at a computer and then sighed. ‘I’m sorry but Mr Plymouth checked out last night.’

  Shit, Lasser plastered a smile onto his face. ‘How many nights did he stay for?’

  ‘Er, he was with us for a week, on and off.’

  ‘What do you mean on and off?’

  ‘Well, he paid for the week, but he didn’t stay here every night.’

  ‘Any idea why?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I was wondering if you had any idea what business he was in.’

  ‘I’m sorry but we aren’t in the habit of questioning our guests.’

  Lasser pulled out his warrant card and placed it on the desk. ‘No but I am.’

  The man glanced at the card and smiled weakly. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.’

  ‘And how do you know that?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘Which room did he occupy?’

  ‘Er,’ he checked the computer screen, ‘room forty three.’

  ‘Would you mind if I take a look inside?’

  The man looked nervous. ‘Well, I don’t know, I’d need to check with the manager first.’

  ‘No problem,’ Lasser slipped the card back into his pocket.

  ‘Yes well, you see the thing is, he doesn’t work on a Sunday, it’s his only day off.’

  Lasser drummed his fingers on the desk, the smile still fixed in place. ‘Well, you’ll have to give him a ring, won’t you?’

  ‘I’m sorry but Mr Burgess doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s off duty.’

  Lasser could feel the smile starting to slip. ‘Look, Mr..?’

  ‘Randall.’

  ‘Well, Mr Randall, I can appreciate that your boss values his day off and I’m not asking you to go to his house and drag him out of bed. I simply want you to give him a quick bell to cover your own arse, because make no mistake whether you ring him or not, I’m going to have a look in that room...’

  ‘But...’

  ‘So, what’s it to be?’

  Randall chewed at his bottom lip. Lasser could see him trying to work through the computations, ring his boss and risk a roasting or say nothing and hand the key over.

  ‘Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll try to contact him.’

  ‘No worries.’

  Randall vanished back through the door and Lasser wandered over to the revolving wire rack that contained interesting places to visit in Wigan. He slid a pamphlet from its slot and started to read about the coalmines and cotton mills that used to dominate the town. If the tourist board were trying to encourage visitors then reading about kids working and living in abject poverty was hardly painting the town in a good light. He flicked through the images, black and white photos of women dressed in rags with a backdrop of slag heaps, rows of squalid terraced houses with kids rummaging in the gutters. ‘Come and re-live the past at the Wigan history shop,’ it was hardly an inspiring tag line, rickets and rotten teeth.

  When he heard the squeak of an opening door he turned, Randall flipped the counter up and walked towards him.

  ‘I managed to get in touch.’

  ‘Good, now can I have the key?’

  Randall looked pained. ‘Well you see, Mr Burgess said he was on his way in and I wasn’t to do anything until he arrived.’

  ‘And how long will it take him to get here?’

  ‘About an hour.’

  Lasser looked at Randall in disbelief; the concierge blushed and looked away.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m a busy man, so just get me the key and I’ll explain things to Burgess when he gets here.’

  ‘Sorry, I can’t do that, Mr Burgess said you might try and demand access to the room, but I was to keep hold of the key.’

  Lasser closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. ‘Did he really?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have to do what he says, I mean, jobs are hard to come by in this town and I don’t want to lose mine.’

  Lasser looked at Randall, he could see the worry etched onto his thin features and made up his mind to save his anger for this Mr Burgess.

  ‘OK, I’ll come back in one hour and have a word with your boss.’

  Randall nodded his head vigorously, a look of relief swept across his face. ‘Thanks for that, I mean, if it was up to me then you could have the keys right now, but...’

  ‘Burgess is a bastard?’

  Randall smiled.

  Lasser slid the pamphlet back into the rack. ‘One hour then,’ he turned and headed for the door. Outside the snow was falling silently, he walked to the car, popped the boot and dragged out his Berghaus jacket. Trudging through the snow he headed back into town, Munroe’s was still closed so he wandered across the road and into McDonalds. Armed with a Big Mac meal he slid into a seat near the window and watched the shop in the vague hope that Plymouth would turn up with a set of keys.

  Munching the burger, he thought about his conversation with Bannister. Despite his innate sense of mistrust, he acknowledged that maybe he had judged the new DCI harshly. Following his outburst, Lasser had expected suspension at the very least but Bannister had surprised him.

  He popped a handful of French fries into his mouth and munched them down. Reading between the lines it was apparent that Bannister also had concerns about Rimmer. Although he hadn’t actually come out and said Rimmer was a bent bastard it was as close as someone like Bannister would ever get to pointing the finger.

  As the shops started to open, early risers began to slip and slide past the window; an elderly woman tottered past on unsteady legs, a dead cert for a broken hip if she took a tumble, Lasser watched her and cringed as she slithered along the pavement. The coffee cup was halfway to his lips when he saw Caroline Speakman standing in front of Munroe’s. Fumbling in her bag, she pulled out a bunch of keys, a moment later the shutters began to glide effortlessly upward. He waited as she entered the premises, sipping his coffee as the lights in the window blinked into life.

  Fifteen minutes later, he decided that Plymouth wasn’t going to put in an appearance, so he gathered his rubbish and dumped it into the bin before pushing through the doors and crossing the road.

  Inside, the shop was like a furnace, it was obvious that whoever this Munroe was he had no concern regarding heating bills. Caroline appeared from a small doorway at the rear of the shop and smiled when she saw Lasser.

  ‘Hello again.’

  ‘Hi, I was just passing so I thought I’d call in make sure everything is OK’

  She frowned. ‘Yes, why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Well actually, I was....’

  ‘If you’re looking for Mr Foster then I’m afraid he isn’t in.’

  ‘Well actually, I was hoping to have a word with Mr. Plymouth.’

  ‘Oh right, well I’m sorry, but he doesn’t come in every day.’

  ‘I see,’ he paused, ‘you don’t happen to have a contact number do you?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘What about Mr. Munroe?’

  She shook her head, her long blond hair gliding from side to side, like something you would see on a shampoo advertisement. ‘I'd like to able to help but if I have any problems then I ring the Southport store.’

  ‘So you’re not expecting, Plymouth, today?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not privy to Mr Plymouth’s plans.’

  ‘So he co
mes and goes.’

  Her frown deepened. ‘I seem to remember telling you all this before.’

  ‘Yes well, I’ve slept since then.’

  She smiled and nodded. ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘Right well, as long as everything is alright, I’ll let you get on.’

  ‘Everything’s fine but thanks again for taking the time to call.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ he turned for the door and spotted a gold crucifix in the display cabinet, leaning down he peered at the object.

  ‘It’s rather pretty isn’t it? Caroline glided to his side.

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Were you looking to buy a gift for Christmas?’

  ‘Well yes, but just out of curiosity how much is it?’

  ‘I could do that piece for two.’

  ‘Hundred?’ Lasser pursed his lips maybe he should splash out, make the grand gesture; show Cathy how he really felt.

  She raised an eyebrow in amusement. ‘Thousand.’

  He swallowed down the shock. ‘I’m almost tempted to take two.’

  It came as no surprise to him that her laughter was light with a musical quality. ‘I know, it’s a lot of money, but believe it or not in the Chester store they sell about five of those a week.’

  ‘The phrase ‘more money than sense’ comes to mind.’

  She gave as slight shrug. ‘It’s all relative I suppose.’

  ‘And you honestly think you’ll sell any of those around here?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I simply get paid to stand behind the counter and show customers what they want to see.’

  The shop door opened, a buzzer droned as a middle-aged woman entered. She was overweight with hair dyed the colour of wet builder’s sand. Lasser watched as a look of mistrust flitted across Caroline’s face, although to give her credit it only lasted a second.

  ‘Hello, can I be of assistance?’ she smiled at the woman, who frowned at her like a disgruntled bulldog.

  ‘I’m looking for a sovereign ring, do you sell ‘em?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, but we do have some rather attractive cygnet rings.’

  Lasser raised a hand to Caroline as he exited the shop. He checked his watch; it had been an hour since he’d left the hotel. With any luck, the manager would be there waiting for him, crossing the road he went back into McDonalds and ordered himself another coffee.

  Fuck Burgess, he could wait.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Kirsty had never been inside a Jaguar before, the smell of new leather was almost overpowering.

  ‘What will you do if he gets away?’

  ‘He won’t.’

  She swallowed. ‘But if he sees you, he’ll do a runner.’

  Tommy eased the car into the flow of traffic heading toward the town centre. ‘Well, I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t see me, won't I?’

  They drove past the college and he swung the car left, driving down a narrow side street before parking in front of the old driving test centre, boards covered the windows, a tall buddleia bush grew out of the guttering standing skeletal against the washed-out sky.

  ‘Right you go and find him and make sure you keep him in the pavilion.’

  ‘What about you?’

  Tommy smiled at her. ‘I’m going to take the scenic route.’

  Climbing out he pulled an overcoat from the back seat and slipped it on, Kirsty stood on the curb shivering in her thin fleece.

  ‘Don’t forget, keep him there until I arrive, if you don’t then I’ll have to come to the conclusion that you gave him the nod and I won’t be happy.’

  She looked at his face and then quickly turned away, his slab like features seemed incapable of any expression, but his cold eyes told her all she needed to know. Thrusting her hands into her pockets, she hurried across the street, pink trainers crunching through fresh fallen snow.

  When she reached the park gates, she threw a look over her shoulder but the man had vanished. The path led directly through the park toward the bandstand and the cafe-come-gift shop, now closed for the winter.

  Kirsty thought back to the previous summer, she had come here with the baby while Shaun had been in bed sleeping off a hangover.

  She had sat on the close-cropped grass, eating a choc-ice and reading a gossip magazine while the baby lay on a towel, kicking his tiny arms and legs and gurgling as she dipped her finger into the ice cream and placed it on his tongue.

  Now the place felt like an alien landscape, a million miles from that warm summer day. Every breath seemed to make her teeth ache, her fingertips grew numb with cold. She tried to think of a way out of this and in the end, she could come up with nothing. Besides, Shaun had brought this on himself and she had her son to consider. If she tried in some way to warn him and the man found out, then she had no doubt that he would hurt her badly. She thought about her last conversation with Shaun, all he'd been bothered about was how much cash she had managed to get her hands on. He hadn’t even hadn’t asked about her or the baby, he’d only been interested in himself.

  She walked past the duck pond, the water frozen milk white, pockets of air bubbles trapped beneath the glass-like surface. A few ducks tottered around on the bank, pecking at the ground in an effort to find something edible.

  On her left, a bank of trees stood stark and brittle blocking the view to the main road. When she saw the bowling green, she looked toward the small brick building that stood on the opposite side. It looked more like a public toilet rather than a pavilion, but she knew that in the summer months old people would sit in the shade and watch as other old codgers played bowls. Kirsty had stood and watched them, trying to fathom out the point of the game, after a couple of minutes she‘d given up and carried on walking.

  As she drew closer she caught sight of Shaun sitting on the small bench, legs drawn up, head bowed as if he were asleep. She stopped and scanned the trees, but there was still no sign of the man who had brought her here. When she looked up, Shaun was on his feet waving a hand in her direction, she swallowed and began to make her way over, the thick snow pulling at her shoes.

  ‘Fucking hell, Kirst, where have you been?’

  He looked knackered, his eyes bloodshot, dark circles clung beneath like smudged mascara, his lips tinged purple with the cold.

  Kirsty shivered and folded her arms. ‘I got here as quick as I could, I had to drop the baby at my mum’s first.’

  ‘Where’s my Mackie’s and I thought I told you to bring me some more clothes,’ his voice had a whinging quality that instantly grated on her nerves, a reminder of what a tool he could be.

  ‘Look, I didn’t have to come; I could have just left you to sort yourself out.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, come on give me the cash,’ he thrust out a hand.

  ‘Don’t you want to know how Danny is?’

  He looked at her as if she had gone mad, he was out here trying to survive, and she was asking a dumb ass question like that. ‘Jesus, Kirst, I saw him yesterday...’

  ‘Yeah, but when will you ever see him again. I mean, as soon as you’ve got the cash you’ll do a runner and you won’t give us a second thought...’

  ‘Once I’m sorted, I’ll send you some money, but you know I can’t stay around here,’ he blew into his cupped hands. ‘I mean, if the cops find me I’m dead and if one of Green’s men gets his mitts on me...’ he shuddered, this time; Kirsty thought it had little to do with the temperature.

  ‘Why did you do it, Shaun?’

  A guarded look came into his eyes and he shuffled back to the bench and sat down. ‘I did it for you, Kirst.’

  She looked at him in amazement. ‘Me?’

  He flicked a glance toward her. ‘Well, yeah, you and the kid. I mean, you were always going on about stuff...’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ For the moment she forgot about the man who was out there somewhere, probably making his way silently to the brick building.

  ‘Well, you always wanted bags and clothes and bloody pe
rfume...’

  ‘Don’t you dare try to blame any of this on me, you’re the one who went out on the rob,’ she jabbed a finger in his face. ‘You’re the one who had all that cash stuffed into the mattress, not me.’

  ‘Look, just give me the money, I’m fucking starving and freezing and thanks to you I’m going to have to fork out on a bloody jacket and...’ when he saw the figure step into the opening of the shelter, Shaun immediately shot to his feet and tried to barge his way past.

  Tommy’s hand rocketed out; the fist slamming into the side of Shaun’s head, he felt his legs buckle and fell to his arse, the impact sending a judder up his spine.

  ‘Hello, Shaun, do you know who I am?’

  He looked up and felt his bladder give way, Kirsty backed off a hand going to her mouth.

  ‘How did you find me?’

  Tommy smiled. ‘You should treat the women in your life with more respect, sunshine, that way they might not be tempted to grass you up.’

  Shaun looked at Kirsty in confusion, bewilderment in his eyes; she straightened her shoulders and glared back at him. ‘It’s your own fault, Shaun; you brought all this on yourself, always thinking you were the big man...’

  ‘You cunt!’ he tried to scrabble to is feet, his face suddenly rigid with fury. Tommy reached down, grabbed his collar, and slammed his head against the brick wall. Shaun crumpled to the floor, a thin line of blood trickled from his forehead, coating one of his eyelids.

  Kirsty took another backward step, her eyes locked on the slumped figure.

  Tommy turned to her and smiled before dipping a hand into his pocket. Peeling off ten twenty pound notes, he held them out. She looked at the money with a kind of numbness.

  ‘Take it.’

  ‘Why would you want to give me money?’

  Tommy shrugged. ‘For a job well done, now take it and forget about this piece of shit.’

  Reaching out she plucked the money from his fingers.

  ‘Now listen, Kirsty, if anyone asks have you seen him, what do you say?’