The Needle House

by Robin Leslie Roughley

  'I've always wanted to get my picture on the front page of the Daily Sport,' Lasser replied with a grin.

  'You're very droll aren't you; let's see how long your sense of humour lasts when they're going through your bins.'

  'Did you hear that, Harper?'

  Cathy was standing in a corner of the room, her eyes flicked towards Lasser. 'Yes, sir.'

  'Failing to cooperate with an ongoing murder investigation and threatening a police officer, it's turning into a busy night for you, Mr Radfield.'

  Ashley sat back in his chair the beginnings of a smirk on his face, though his eyes remained hard and unflinching. 'I don't make threats, Sergeant.'

  'Oh, so it's a promise, is that what you're telling me?'

  'As I've already said, I will act on the advice of my solicitor. Until then I suggest you spend your time trying to catch whoever was responsible for this terrible crime.'

  The door opened, Lasser glanced over his shoulder. DCI Simms poked his head into the room.

  'A word, Sergeant.'

  Simms stood in the corridor the buttons on his dress uniform gleamed in the artificial light, the crease in his trousers razor sharp. 'My office. Now.'

  As they made their way through the station Lasser began to feel like a condemned man, Simms remained tight-lipped, fellow colleagues glanced at them and then looked away. This did not look good. Simms pushed open the door to his office and ushered Lasser inside.

  Hopkins was sitting in one of the two chairs facing the desk; he didn't turn around but remained facing the wall as if there was already someone sitting in the chair opposite.

  Lasser slid in beside his colleague.

  Simms walked around the desk and sat down. 'Right, Lasser, what's going on here?'

  'I'm sorry, sir, I don't follow.'

  'Hopkins informs me that you were up at the crime scene today, according to him you were snooping around?'

  'I call it doing my job, sir.'

  Hopkins snorted. 'You had no right being there and you know it. I'm in charge of the Jones and the Kitts investigation.'

  'I did look for you, Charlie, but someone said you were busy talking to the media.'

  'That's enough, Lasser,' Simms opened a draw in his desk, placing the bagged cufflink on the table. 'Now; Sergeant Hopkins informs me that you found this at the crime scene?'

  'That's correct, sir.'

  Hopkins turned in his seat. 'That evidence should have been handed to me personally, Lasser.'

  'It was handed to you personally.'

  'By a crime scene photographer nearly two hours after you found it…'

  'It isn't my fault you like spending so much time in front of the cameras.'

  'Enough!' Simms bellowed. 'Lasser, you should have been nowhere near that crime scene, I gave you strict orders to follow up on the Radfield suicide, is that correct?'

  Lasser nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

  'And when I give a direct order I expect my men to follow it to the letter.'

  From the corner of his eye, Lasser saw Hopkins nod in agreement; he was loving this, the pompous twat. 'Understood, sir, it won't happen again.'

  'I hope not because this isn't the first time I have had to draw attention to your lack of discipline, is it?'

  'No, sir.'

  Simms nodded, 'Right, good.' The DCI looked down at his desk and Lasser risked a quick glance at Hopkins, his counterpart glared back, clearly, he had been expecting Lasser to get a lot more than a simple bollocking. 'Now then, Hopkins, can you explain why you were talking to the press when there was a crime scene that you clearly had not taken the time to search?'

  'Sir?' Hopkins appeared baffled by this sudden turn of events.

  'It's not a trick question, Sergeant.'

  Hopkins cleared his throat. 'Well, sir, I was in the process of searching the tower when the reporters turned up en masse, so I decided to secure the area before things got out of hand.'

  Simms nodded. 'Very commendable, so you go outside and organise your men to keep everyone well back, is that what you are saying?'

  'That's correct, sir.'

  'And then you went back into this tower to conduct your investigation?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'So, can you explain why you received this piece of evidence a full two hours after it had been discovered?'

  'Well, like I said earlier, sir, it should have been brought to my attention sooner.'

  Simms sighed, to Lasser it was the sound of a man who was close to retirement and couldn't wait to be shut of the lot of them.

  'Listen, Hopkins, you were right when you said that your colleague here should have been nowhere near that tower. But what you fail to grasp is that you should have been there to tell him to butt out, you should have been the one who found the evidence.'

  'Excuse me, sir, but…'

  'Lasser was doing his job, I agree he should have been doing it somewhere else but nonetheless he was doing what he's paid to do.'

  Lasser nodded. 'Thank you, sir, I am glad you see it that way.'

  'Don't push your luck, Sergeant,' Simms turned back to Hopkins. 'Now let me be specific. You don't get paid to hold impromptu press conferences. When you attend a crime scene I expect you to give it your full attention, not run to the cameras as soon as they show up just so you can get your face on the bloody television, is that understood?'

  Hopkins looked as if he was on the edge of losing it completely; a vein in his temple began to throb. 'Excuse me, sir, but I was simply following procedure, I…'

  'Enough!'

  Lasser kept his face straight. Simms might be getting long in the tooth but there was nothing wrong with his lungs.

  'Don't say another bloody word and don't ever try to quote procedure to me. You failed to do your duty, now stop trying to cover your sorry arse and get out of my sight.'

  Hopkins looked around the room as if he expected some mystery abettor to materialise and fight his corner, after a few seconds he stood up spun on his shiny heals and left the room.

  Simms ran a hand across his eyes, a heavy sigh slid from his lips. 'Now, do you mind telling me why you have Ashley Radfield in one of the interview rooms?'

  As he explained, Simms kept nodding, all the time his fingers held the evidence bag.

  'And this was found on the floor beneath the body?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'And you're sure the coat of arms belongs to the Radfield family?'

  'Positive, I recognised it from when I first went up to the house.'

  'So, what does he have to say about all this?'

  'Not much, he says he's waiting for the family solicitor to arrive.'

  'Well, that's hardly surprising.' Simms stood up and wandered over to the window. 'And what do you make of it; do you think the Radfields are responsible for any of this?'

  Lasser chose his words carefully. 'I'm not sure, sir, obviously it seems suspicious but its early days.'

  Simms raised an eyebrow. 'That's a very diplomatic response, Sergeant.'

  Lasser nodded.

  'Right, it appears for the time being your case is overlapping with Hopkins. Now I want no more of this nonsense, I expect you two to work together and that means sharing information, it does not mean winding one another up. I realise that you two have different methods,' he paused, 'I also realise you think Hopkins is full of shit and to a large degree I would agree with you.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Though if he could put his ego to one side then I'm sure he'd make a half-decent copper.'

  Lasser said nothing.

  'From the look on your face, I see that you disagree with my assessment?'

  'No comment, sir.'

  This time Simms laughed aloud. 'Just try to get on because if he turns up here with another complaint I might start to believe him, is that understood?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Right, you look worn out, so I suggest you head home and grab an early night.'

  'I'd rather stay and have another word with Radfield.' />
  'I bet you would but if he's waiting for representation to arrive then I can't see the point in you hanging around.'

  'But…'

  'Go home, Lasser, you'll have your chance tomorrow.'

  53

  Michael opened his eyes to a world of pink, he blinked in confusion, Tina emerged from beneath the duvet and smiled, and suddenly everything came crashing down.

  'What time is?' he asked, stifling a yawn.

  'Half past seven.'

  'Jesus, how long have I been asleep?'

  'Hours. When I came back up with your beans on toast you were well gone.'

  'I can't remember the last time I slept that long,' he ran a hand across his short, dark hair.

  'I did try to wake you, but you just kept snoring.'

  Michael looked at her. 'I know it used to drive Billy mad, a few nights he slept in the bath, he said it was either that or he was going to smother me with his pillow.'

  Tina smiled. 'Listen, my mum's gone to the shops and then she calls around at my aunties, so if you want to get a shower there's no problem.'

  He grimaced. 'Are you sure you don't mind?'

  'Don't be daft, I'll make some breakfast, and then we can get going,' she paused, 'that is if you still want me to come?'

  She looked good in the morning, sometime during the night, she'd removed the makeup, it made her look younger, he even noticed a spray of freckles across her nose.

  'Mickey, are you OK?'

  'Yeah, I was just thinking you look different.'

  'Oh God, don't,' her hands went up to cover her face. 'I look like a tramp in the morning.'

  'No, you look good.'

  She looked at him cautiously as if waiting for him to burst into mocking laughter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let a boy see her without her makeup. Yet for some reason while he had been sleeping she had found herself taking it all off, scrubbing at her face with moist wipes. Then she had sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleeping. As the room began to darken, Tina had changed into her Hello Kitty pyjamas and lay down by his side. Sometime during the night, he had slid his hand onto her waist pulling her close until she could feel his warm breath on her face. She had cried at the unfairness of life, for the first time she regretted being pregnant, hated the fact that the child she was carrying would make a relationship with Michael impossible. Right now, he was hurting, the death of his brother a raw, open wound. However, eventually he would return to some form of normality and then he would see right through her. Eventually the tears had stopped, and she had slept wrapped in his arms.

  'You don't need all that makeup on; you look better without it.'

  She felt her face burning with embarrassment. 'I'll put the kettle on.'

  Before he could climb from the bed, she had left the room.

  An hour later, they were heading out of town on the number thirty-two bus. Tina had dug out a pair of trainers from the bottom of her wardrobe and slipped on a pink, hooded sweatshirt, the name 'Gold digger' emblazoned across the back.

  Thankfully, the bus was empty apart from a couple of elderly women who sat gossiping about how hot it was.

  Michael tried to slide open a window, but the catch was locked solid. 'Listen, this place is in the middle of nowhere, are you sure you'll be OK walking?'

  'I'll be fine, besides if it gets too much you can always give me a piggyback.'

  'I just hope he's in.'

  'Who is he anyway?'

  'Just some bloke, I mean, after Lasser pulled me out of the house he didn't have a clue what to do with me. He knew if he let me go then I'd head straight to Connelly's house…'

  Tina put a hand to her mouth. 'It was you who broke his nose, wasn't it?'

  'Yeah and if he had anything to do with Billy's death then he'll get more than a bloody nose.'

  After seeing what Mickey had done to Halliwell she could imagine what waited in store for Kyle Connelly.

  'What makes you think he'll be able to help you?'

  'Well, he must be mates with Lasser, so maybe I'll be able to tap him for information. Besides what else can I do? If I try to go round to my place my mother will either get me arrested or try and get me to act like the grieving brother in front of some twat of a reporter.'

  Tina looked out of the window; the houses had given way to fields. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have a mother like Sarah Jones; instinctively her hand went to her stomach.

  'I'm glad you decided to come,' he said.

  She looked at him and smiled. 'I wanted to; I just didn't want you to think I was being pushy.'

  'I can't imagine you ever being pushy,' he chided.

  'Sod off,' Tina punched him lightly on the arm, a wide smile on her face.

  Twenty minutes later, he stood up. 'We need to get off here.'

  As the bus pulled away, Tina became aware of the silence, the only sound being the drone of bees in the wild flowers that grew at the roadside. In the distance, a heat haze shimmered, blurring the horizon, making everything indistinct.

  'I think there's a lane about half a mile back that way.'

  'You don't sound so sure?' she said pushing a hand through her hair.

  'It was dark when I set off, but I am pretty sure I came past this bus stop.'

  They set off, occasionally a car or van would go thundering past, causing a cooling draft that lasted a couple of seconds before the heat began to throb again. She was glad she'd had the sense to dig out her trainers, at least it made walking a little easier, though after twenty minutes, her mouth began to feel parched, her hair, damp with sweat, began to curl.

  After what felt like an age they came to the turning, Tina looked down the narrow lane, she could see the band of black tarmac weaving its way across the patchwork fields, not a house in sight. She blew her fringe away from her forehead.

  'You OK, Tina?'

  'I'm fine,' she smiled.

  'I should have brought something to drink.'

  'Don't worry, Mickey, I won't faint on you.'

  'I just didn't realise how far it was,' he looked annoyed at his own lack of foresight.

  'I can't believe you walked it all the way back into town, especially in the dark, it would have freaked me out.'

  'Yeah well, I had other things on my mind,' he replied darkly.

  Tina flicked him a glance. 'So, how far away is this place?'

  'About an hour's walk I think.'

  Placing her hands on her hips, she grinned. 'Well, we'd better get going, coz if I stand here much longer then I'm going to start melting.'

  'OK but let me know if you need a break.'

  'It looks like you might end up giving me that piggyback after all.'

  54

  He rotates the aerial on top of the portable television, until the grainy picture crackles into focus. The police have found the body, now he wants to see what the media make of it all. Concealed in the high bank of bushes that looped around Radfield Manor he had watched as the police officer arrived. Half an hour later, Ashley had been led from the house; the shock on his lordship's face, the uncertainty, the fear, had made the man smile.

  On the TV, the tower clicked into focus, it felt strange to see the familiar place on the small screen, he pressed the remote and the sound gradually increased. It was the same copper who had been on the news at the derelict house. The killer smiled, he could see right through the man. It was obvious he loved to be in front of the cameras, the way he kept turning his head, pointing at various reporters and then answering their questions with his chest thrown out and a look of mock severity on his face.

  'I am afraid at the moment I can't answer that.'

  'Well, can you confirm that the body is that of William Jones?' someone asked.

  'I can neither confirm nor deny that supposition.'

  The man cracked open a can of lager.

  'Though I would like to take this opportunity to reassure the public that the police are doing everything within their power to apprehend
the person responsible for this terrible crime.'

  It was as if he were reading from a prepared script, the words meaningless, the sentiment behind them false. If this was the man in charge of the case, then it was a miracle that the body had been discovered at all.

  The camera cut back to the studio, where the presenter began to talk about the recession and its impact on the local economy.

  He flicked the television off and thought of Radfield sitting in a police cell, having to explain where he had been at the time of the boy's death. He could see it with perfect clarity, Radfield trapped in some small windowless room demanding to be let out immediately, did they have no concept of the man they were dealing with!

  Still it was all immaterial, eventually he would walk from the police station to a barrage of media attention, his face would be plastered over the front pages, details of his family history would be poured over. And the cracks would begin to show. People would begin to understand what the family had done to amass their wealth; the man took a sip from the can. Radfield would remain tight-lipped, make no comment and batten down the hatches until the public lost interest, and then simply carry on with life as if nothing had happened. However, just as things began to get back to some sort of normality, he would intervene. Ashley Radfield would find himself back in front of the police and this time there would be no doubt as to his guilt. No amount of money or slippery lawyers would be able to wipe the slate clean. The man tossed a salted peanut into his mouth and watched as a pair of legs encased in Wellington boots walked past the window.

  55

  It was a mirage, it had to be. 'Pull over, Mum.'

  'What do you mean, pull over?'

  Jenna swivelled in her seat, peering out of the rear window of the van.

  'I'm sure that was Tina Sheldon,' she could see the couple trudging along the narrow curb; wilting in the oven heat.

  Ronnie leaned forward between the front seats. 'Tina who?'

  Susan pulled the van tight to the curb.

  'Sheldon, she's in a couple of my groups at college.'