He watched as the cat leapt down from the fence and vanished beneath a bush. Perhaps his mother was right; she'd always said Erin was unstable, hinted at the fact that she'd never be good enough for her only son. Graham straightened his shoulders, yes, well, if she wanted to be left alone then he would gladly oblige. Turning, he trudged down the drive, feeling shrunken and inadequate.
Climbing into the car, Graham looked back at the house. First thing in the morning, he'd go and see a solicitor, let's see what her reaction would be when she discovered that he'd be the one divorcing her. Smiling, he swiped the rain from his eyes; let's see her cope when he put a freeze on her credit cards.
Flicking on the wipers, he pulled away from the kerb; he was halfway down the street when he felt the emotion well inside him. By the time he reached the junction, he was bawling like a newborn.
39
'Well, actually it was Coyle's idea.'
'But I thought I told you to wait until tonight?' As usual, Bannister sounded annoyed.
Susan stood on the church steps, chewing on a fingernail in apprehension.
'Yeah well, we've managed to check over a dozen restaurants…'
'But what's the bloody point, I…'
'In ten of them staff were already there. In fact, four had family members living above the shops.'
'Did you check them out?'
'They were working in the restaurants, seven days a week, from five until at least half-eleven.'
'Right,' Bannister grunted in disappointment.
'Two more had empty flats attached; I got the owners to open up so we could have a look around.'
'Right, well keep up the good work, Sergeant,' Bannister said grudgingly.
'Like I said it was Coyle's idea, if it was up to me we'd still be sat here waiting for it to go dark.'
'I thought it was unusual for you to use your initiative.' Bannister snapped before hanging up.
Susan looked at Lasser in surprise. 'Thanks for that.'
'I don't take credit that isn't due,' Lasser checked his watch. 'Right, I reckon if we get our skates on we could get around the last half a dozen in about an hour.'
'That sounds about right.'
'Good, then at least I can get home before it goes dark for a change.'
By the time Lasser pulled onto the drive the sun was slipping behind the houses. As always, it had taken longer than expected to get the job done. The last six shops had turned out to be single storey affairs with no flats above, apart from one that was using the space to store boxes full of illegal cigarettes and tobacco. Lasser had stashed the hoard into the boot of the car and dropped them and Coyle back at the station before heading home.
As soon as he opened the door, his stomach rumbled as the smell of cooking food drifted out from the kitchen. Medea was leaning against the sink, a glass of wine in her hand. Despite the inclement weather, she was wearing a white cotton dress that ended three inches above her knees with flip-flops on her feet. Her mass of hair tied back in a ponytail, as always she looked stunning.
'Ah, the wanderer returns,' she said with a smile.
Lasser slid his hands onto her waist and pulled her forward, her lips tasted of Chardonnay.
'Something smells good.'
'Apart from me you mean?'
'That goes without saying,' he leaned forward and Medea ducked and slipped from his grasp.
'No you don't, I've been slaving in this kitchen for hours, and we're going to sit down and enjoy a meal together that isn't burnt to a crisp.'
'You'll get no argument from me, I'm starving.'
Opening the fridge, she pulled out a glass full of wine. 'There you go.'
Lasser took a sip and sighed. 'This is good stuff.'
'At a tenner a bottle it should be.'
'So, what are we having?'
'Egg, chips and beans.'
Lasser smiled. 'Come on, be serious.'
Medea slipped on the heat-resistant gloves and opened the oven door, when she slid the plate in front of Lasser he looked at it in disbelief.
'I thought you said you'd been slaving in the kitchen all day?'
'I lied,' she placed a round of buttered bread onto the table. 'Now eat before it goes cold.'
Picking up a slice, he dunked it into the egg, watching in amusement as the yoke exploded.
Medea grinned at him. 'I love egg and chips.'
'And here's me thinking you were a caviar and champagne kind of girl.'
'I like my food like I like my men.'
'Are you saying I'm soggy and yellow?'
She reached across the table and wiped a sliver of yoke from his chin. 'I prefer to call it meaty and substantial.'
40
The drug surged through his body; he was up and over the garden fence in a matter of seconds, dropping down onto the waterlogged lawn. He had no idea what Kyle Connelly had given him but it was seriously good shit, better than the usual stuff that would hit you hard and fade in a matter of minutes.
Taking a huge gulp of air, Robert peered at the back of the darkened house. He'd already walked along the street a couple of times, and he was sure that the bitch wasn't at home.
Moving forward in a crouch, he crossed the garden and grabbed the handle of the conservatory door, snarling when it refused to budge.
'Go to the window, Robert.'
Sliding to the left, he glanced into the kitchen. Gleaming granite worktops shone in the gloom, the huge double fridge, the dishwasher, the sight of them made his hatred flare. She had everything, while he had nothing. No doubt she had the big bank account to match, while he lived above a stinking takeaway and ate nothing but Pot Noodles and chips. Cocking his arm, Robert lashed out, his elbow slamming into the glass. The sound it made as the fragments showered into the kitchen sink made him wince in fear. Then he was away again across the lawn, crouching in the shadow of the small shed, his head filled with the stench of fresh creosote, he waited. No alarm screamed; his eyes roamed back and forth to the neighbour's houses, no lights and no curious busybody coming to investigate.
'Wait, Robert, wait.'
He stayed in the shadows for ten minutes, the rain slid off the shed roof landing on his head and shoulders.
'Right, go now!'
Robert bolted, twenty seconds later he was standing in the darkened kitchen the sound of glass brittle beneath his feet. As he made his way into the hallway, his nostrils flared as he caught the perfume scent. Glancing into the lounge, Robert frowned when he saw the huge sofa and the plasma television that hung above the fireplace like a slab of black granite.
'Very nice,' the voice said.
With a snarl, Robert made his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. Clicking on the light, he looked around the small room. Everything gleamed, the bath was spotless, the shower curtain mould-free. He moved to the sink and grinned when he saw the two toothbrushes standing on a small wire rack, blue and pink, well wasn't that sweet. It was hardly surprising; a cunt like her would have to have a man in her life to provide her with all this. Some poor bastard who thought the sun shone from her arse, some mug, who sat at home while she was out in a skirt halfway up her arse, getting pissed. Grabbing the blue toothbrush, Robert snapped it in half and dropped it into the toilet bowl, before picking up the pink one. He could smell the faint odour of mint on the bristles. Grinning, he slid it into his mouth and scrubbed it across his yellowing tongue, before carefully placing it back in the rack, bitch.
Clicking off the light, he moved along the landing, the first door opened onto a small box room that doubled as an office, he could see a desktop computer and printer, a metal filing cabinet stood in the corner of the room. Turning, he moved to the next door, standing in the doorway Robert smiled, this was it, this was where she slept, the room stank of her. Moving into the space, Robert yanked open one of the drawers – underpants and socks – he slammed it closed and snatched at the next, his eyes lighting up when his hand came out holding silk and lace, cool, and smooth. Lifting the un
derwear, he buried his face in the fabric, his tongue lashed out licking the cloth, his erection growing at an alarming rate.
This was good; oh, this was so fucking good. Dipping a hand into his pocket, he pulled out the small brown bottle and tossed another tablet into his mouth, crunched and swallowed. The effect was instantaneous; reaching down, Robert fumbled with the buttons on his jeans. Grasping his member, he immediately ejaculated, covering the end of his spurting cock with the flimsy underwear.
'Gahhh!' he tilted his head to the ceiling, the veins in his neck cable hard, his mouth stretched wide in ecstasy. Collapsing back onto the bed, he waited for the inevitable sense of disappointment to flood through him, but this time it didn't. Reaching down he was amazed to find it still hard, no not hard, it felt like iron, like some kind of metal rod in his hand, something designed to penetrate flesh.
When headlights flared at the window, Robert slid from the bed and scuttled onto the landing. The key rattled in the door and he felt a cool draft travel up the stairs, and then vanish as the front door slammed closed. Looking down, Robert smiled when he saw his member jutting up from his fist, he felt alive, vibrant, ready to rock and roll.
'Easy boy, easy does it.'
He never even heard the voice.
41
The smile on Lasser's face froze when he saw Bannister striding towards him.
'What are you smiling at?'
Lasser frowned, 'Nothing, why?'
'Because, for the last five minutes, you've been sitting there grinning like the village idiot.'
'So, it's a crime to have a smile on your face?'
'Well, you can put it away, we have work to do.'
Lasser opened his desk drawer and pulled out a thin file. 'We finished checking the curry houses.'
'Any luck?'
'Afraid not.'
Bannister narrowed his eyes. 'What about the Chinese?'
'Chinese, Indian, Bangladeshi, we even called at Sid's cafe in the old arcade; no one is harbouring a psychopath above their shop.'
Bannister sighed and sank down in a chair. 'You'll be glad to know that Spenner's been taken off life support.'
'I didn't even realise he was on it.'
'Well, they tend to take extra precautions when you've been stabbed in the throat. I mean, personally I think it's a little excessive…'
'OK, that came out wrong.'
Bannister glared. 'Look, Lasser, you're a good copper, and believe me I don't normally dish out the plaudits, but sometimes you can come across as a bit of a twat.'
Lasser slapped a look of innocence onto his face. 'I don't know why, I mean, I modelled my career on yours, and…'
'Careful, Sergeant,' Bannister rolled up his sleeves. 'Right, what've you got planned for today?'
Just then, the door opened and Susan Coyle poked her head into the room. 'I've managed to track Fleming down, sir.'
Bannister looked over his shoulder. 'Something I should know about?'
Susan threw Lasser a quick look, when he nodded she cleared her throat. 'He was the manager of the mental health unit at Leigh Infirmary for over thirty years, sir. He recently retired and apparently he's living on a narrowboat…'
'Lucky bugger,' Bannister hitched up his trousers.
'So, we thought it would be worth having a word, see if he can put a name to the photofit.' Susan slid a piece of paper onto the desk and then stood to attention, hands clasped behind her back.
'So, where's Captain Birdseye staying?' Lasser asked.
'According to British Waterways he has a permanent mooring at a place called Red Rock.'
'I know where it is,' Lasser stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.
'OK, check it out but don't be all day about.' Bannister headed for the door, then stopped and turned. 'I don't want to hear you've been for a pleasure cruise, understood?'
'Yes, sir,' Coyle nodded, a slow blush creeping onto her cheeks.
Lasser didn't bother with a reply.
42
'Do you want me to come with you?' Sarah stood by the open kitchen door smoking a cigarette, the smoke trailing over her shoulder and into the garden.
Erin dragged her arms into the waterproof jacket before sliding her long hair over the collar. 'No thanks, I'll be fine.'
'Are you sure?'
'I'm positive; this is something I need to sort on my own…'
'But what if he turns arsey?'
Erin smiled at the choice of words. 'Don't worry, I'm not going there to argue, I just want to grab a few things. Besides he'll be at work…'
'But you don't know that?' Sarah flicked the cigarette into the garden and closed the door. 'He might have taken the day off?'
Erin picked up her car keys. 'Graham never takes time off work; he thinks if he does he'll lose his chance of promotion.'
'Look, I know it's your decision but are you sure you want to do this?'
Erin looked at her in surprise. 'You think I'm making a mistake?'
'I think the last forty-eight hours have been hard for everyone…'
'Hang on Sarah, I'm not happy with Graham, and that fact has nothing to do with what happened.'
Sarah looked uncomfortable. 'I just don't want you rushing into something and regretting it later.'
'Believe me, it's not a snap decision, this has been coming for a long time. I mean, you saw what he was like last night.'
'I know but it can't be easy for him, he loves the bones of you…'
'You're wrong, he loves the idea of having the perfect marriage; he hates the idea of failing. The truth is he could be married to anyone, I'm not important in that regard…'
'You don't mean that?'
Erin dropped her phone into her bag and slid it onto her shoulder. 'I won't be long.'
Sarah opened her mouth and then her shoulders slumped, she knew her friend well enough to know that arguing the fact would be pointless. 'OK, but be careful.'
'Don't worry, Graham might be a lot of things, but he's no woman beater.'
Sarah watched as her friend left the room, a minute later she was sliding another cigarette from the packet and trying to shake the feeling of unease.
43
Lasser drove over the humpback bridge before swinging left onto the pub car park.
'Jesus, not another one,' he grumbled.
'What's the matter?'
'The last time I was up here this pub was open.'
Susan looked through the window; the place looked derelict, the windows boarded up, a galvanised metal sheet covered the door.
'So?'
'It's as if the town's closing down a bit at a time.'
'When you say town, you mean pubs don't you.'
'Pubs, shops it's all the same thing,' clicking open the door he climbed out and eyed a bank of black rain clouds warily. 'Did you get the name of Fleming's boat?'
Susan looked at him across the roof of the car, 'The Bond'.
Lasser smiled and peered along the canal, the bank lined with vessels of all shapes and sizes. 'Come on, let's take a walk.'
Susan flicked up the collar of her jacket as the rain began to fall again. Some of the narrowboats had smoke drifting lazily from the stunted metal chimneys. 'I can't see the appeal of living on one of those things.'
Lasser opened a gate that blocked the towpath, Coyle slid through the gap.
'Ah, but you have to remember, Fleming spent thirty years cooped up in one building, surrounded by damaged people. I can understand why he'd want to get away from bricks and mortar.'
'But look at them,' she nodded towards a grubby-looking barge, the roof littered with chunks of cut wood and an old rusting bike, the windows covered by tatty-looking lace curtains.
The canal curved to the left, a gaggle of geese floated by on the choppy water and then Lasser suddenly stopped and pointed. 'You were saying?'
The boat must have been at least sixty-feet long and looked brand new, painted in black and gold, 'The Bond' stencilled on the side in fi
ne red lettering.
As they approached, Lasser could hear the smooth purr of a generator, halfway along the side of the boat they came across a small door standing open. 'Hello, anyone at home?'
The rain intensified, hissing into the canal like water on a hotplate. Lasser could feel it pattering the top of his head like a drum roll.
A narrow face appeared at a small, circular window and frowned out at them before vanishing, the boat rolled slowly from side to side as the occupant made his way along its length and then the man was smiling at them from the rear of the vessel.
'Good morning. Nasty weather isn't it?'
Lasser trudged his way towards the occupant. 'That's one way of putting it I suppose.'
'Are you lost?'
'Actually we're looking for a Doctor Fleming.'
'Well, you've found him,' Fleming looked at Coyle, taking in the uniform. 'This looks serious; I've got the kettle on so why don't you come on board.'
Susan looked around in amazement, from the outside the boat had looked big but inside it was like sitting in the Tardis. Everything gleamed; the walls and ceiling were decked out in mellow oak. Plasma television, laptop, fridge, all home comforts were present and accounted for.
'This is fantastic,' she said.
Fleming beamed, he looked to be in his mid-fifties, his features benign, a man who looked at peace with the world. His hair was grey and tidy; his frame, like his face, was long and lean. 'It's not to everyone's taste but I like it. When I told my friends I intended living on the water they thought I was mad but it suits me. Now what would you like, tea or coffee?'
Lasser slid down the zip of his jacket. 'Actually, Mr Fleming, we're in a bit of rush.'
Fleming rubbed his hands together. 'I love being retired; the word ''rush'' is no longer part of my vocabulary.'
'Unfortunately it's common in mine.'
Fleming smiled. 'Right, what can I do for you, Sergeant?'
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