The Needle House

by Robin Leslie Roughley

  'I don't follow.'

  Lasser laid it all out, finding the cufflink, searching the house and finding its twin.

  'I mean, come on, Fossey, why run the risk of moving the body from the old house to a tower that has links to his family going back generations. And then be so idiotic as to leave a calling card behind.'

  'You think someone is trying to set him up?' Fossey had asked.

  'I know it sounds far-fetched but as far as I can see Ashley Radfield has no motive for wanting to kill anyone, especially not someone like Billy Jones, I mean, what would he gain?'

  'Well, the Radfield family would have made enemies over the years but it's a big leap from feeling aggrieved about something that happened in the past to slaughtering a fourteen-year-old boy and then trying to lay the blame on your enemy.'

  'Agreed, but it is possible.' Lasser said.

  'Anything's possible.'

  'Right, so let's work on that assumption. If someone was trying to drop Ashley Radfield in deep shit, then, it would presumably be someone who's had dealings with him in the past.'

  'That sounds plausible.'

  'It also means that whoever did this has been inside the house.'

  'The cufflink?'

  'Precisely, though as far as I'm aware there's been no break-in…'

  'Maybe you should double check.'

  'Don't worry I intend too.'

  'So, you could be looking for someone who's known to the family, someone who has access to the place.'

  'Mm, the trouble is Ashley Radfield only came down from Scotland early on Monday afternoon and according to him it was a rare visit.'

  'And Malcolm Radfield's dead.'

  'Yeah and how convenient is that, let's face it the killer could have been hobnobbing with his Lordship and his son wouldn't have a bloody clue.'

  'And you're sure Radfield committed suicide?'

  'On the face of it, though let's say I'll be having a word with the pathologist just to be on the safe side.'

  'So, what do you want me to do?'

  Lasser shrugged. 'Look, maybe I was wrong to come here but believe it or not finding someone you can talk to about this stuff isn't as simple as you'd imagine.'

  'You could always try Hopkins?'

  Lasser looked affronted at the mere mention of his counterpart. 'I wouldn't talk to that prick if he was the last man on the planet.'

  'Listen, I'll go over the stuff that Jenna sent me, see if I can find out if the family had any obvious enemies.'

  'Much appreciated,' he paused, 'what about Michael, you know he's going to give you the third degree?'

  'He's trying to come to terms with what happened to his brother, in part he feels responsible.'

  'Yeah well, compared to the rest of the family he's a good kid.'

  'Perhaps you should have tried telling him that.'

  Lasser tilted his head to one side. 'Look, I feel for him, but my only concern is catching this maniac. I mean, if all this has been done to frame Ashley Radfield, what happens when we have to let his Lordship go, when the killer sees all his hard work going to pot, do you think he'll just shrug his shoulders and say 'hey ho, some you win some you lose?'

  Fossey looked out over the fields, he could see what Lasser was aiming at. 'So, you think he might lose the plot.'

  'I think he lost the plot when he disemboweled Billy Jones, don't you?'

  Reaching for the remote, he flicked the television off before pushing himself up from the sofa. On his way home he'd called into the station, Simms had already left for home, so he checked with the desk sergeant, Radfield was being held until morning.

  He made his usual stop to pick up booze and fags then grabbed a takeaway from a curry house now housed inside an old church. Standing at what used to be the alter waiting for his beef madras he wondered what God would make of it all.

  Gathering the empty curry trays, he was halfway to the kitchen when his mobile began to vibrate in his shirt pocket.

  'Shit,' he dashed down the hall and dumped the rubbish into the pedal bin, two tinfoil trays fell to the floor a half-eaten onion bhaji rolled towards the fridge, Lasser scrabbled for his phone, 'Hello.'

  'Is that you, sir?'

  Lasser frowned, 'Harper?'

  'I'm sorry to bother you…'

  'That's OK, what can I do for you?' The phone went quiet, he picked up the rogue bhaji and dropped it into the bin. 'Harper, are you still there?'

  'Sorry, sir.'

  Lasser instincts flared, something isn't right here. 'Where are you?'

  'I'm at the tower.'

  'What's happened?'

  'That's just it, I'm not sure.'

  He could hear a tremor in her voice. 'Hang on, you're not up there on your own, are you?'

  'I am at the moment, PC Spenner was meant to be joining me but…'

  Lasser interrupted. 'Spenner's been on duty since five this morning; he should be at home in the land of nod.'

  He could hear her breath down the phone, it sounded ragged as if she had been running. 'I'm sorry, I didn't realise.'

  'Who told you he was on his way?'

  'Sergeant Hopkins, he said he would…'

  'So, you're at a major crime scene in the middle of nowhere on your tod?'

  'Yes, but it's not that. You see when Sergeant Hopkins left earlier he left the door to the tower open…'

  Lasser rubbed a hand through his hair. 'You are fucking kidding me?'

  'No, so I decided to close it.'

  'Thank God for that.'

  'The problem is I did a circuit of the perimeter just to check that everything was OK, but when I got back the door was open.'

  Lasser thought for a moment. 'Have you tried to contact the station?'

  He could hear rustling coming down the phone as if she were walking through tall grass. 'No, not yet.'

  'Right, I'll be there in twenty minutes.'

  'Should I go into the tower?'

  Lasser grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. 'No, you don't go near the bloody thing, is that understood?'

  'Yes, sir,' he could hear the relief in her voice, sense the tension easing a little.

  'Now listen, as soon as I put the phone down you get onto the station and tell them you require assistance,' another long pause, he pulled on his shoes and grabbed the car keys from the dresser. 'You still there, Cathy?'

  'Yes, sir, it's just…'

  'Look, being left up there on your own is breaking so many rules I don't even know where to start. But don't worry, I won't mention the fact you called me, I know what some of the tossers at the station can be like.'

  Cathy heaved a sigh of relief. 'Thank you.'

  'Right I'm on my way,' he ended the call and hurried out to the car, his anger as hot as the madras he had eaten earlier.

  61

  Ronnie couldn't remember the last time he'd driven through Hindley; it was a place he tended to avoid. Though he was surprised by how little the town centre had changed; he could see the old Palace Cinema on the left, he had done most of his courting in the dark of that cinema. It was a sobering thought when he realised that it had been over fifty years since he had set foot in the place.

  The building was boarded up, big sheets of plywood sprayed with random graffiti and peeling flyers covered the doors and windows.

  After dropping Michael and Tina off, Fossey had made his way back through the town centre. The pavements full of Friday night revellers. Twice he'd slammed on the brakes to avoid running one of them over as they staggered into the road. Ronnie looked in the mirror; Jenna was sitting on the back seat, her eyes closed as if she couldn't bear to open them. When Michael had discovered the house where his brother had died belonged to them, he had looked at them both as if this fact somehow implicated them in the murder. He hadn't actually come out and said anything; then again, he hadn't needed to. When they'd climbed from the car Tina had thanked Fossey for the lift home, she had even given Jenna a quick hug. Michael had just walked away without utterin
g a word.

  'Are you OK, Jenna?' Fossey asked.

  When she opened her eyes, she could see Patrick looking at her in the rear-view mirror.

  'I'm fine,' she didn't think she would ever be able to forget the way Michael had looked at her and the way he had found out had been awful. While Patrick had been out talking with the disgusting Lasser, Tina had woken up and put on the television. When Jenna had entered the lounge, they had been watching the news; it was like witnessing some horrible montage. First, an image of Billy had appeared on the screen, he was like a miniature version of Michael, the same thin features the same pale-blue eyes. Then the picture had flicked to the tower, she had glanced at Michael, his eyes glued to the screen, she could see the muscles in his jaw clenched tight.

  'What is that place?'

  'That's the needle house, lad.' Ronnie's voice was low, no more than a rumble.

  Jenna had wanted to dash over and turn the thing off, but her legs had felt incapable of moving her forward.

  'Do you know where it is?'

  Jenna had never seen her grandad look more uncomfortable, when she looked back at the television the backdrop was the old house.

  A woman moved into the picture. 'It's believed that William Jones died in this derelict house.' The camera zoomed in on the windows; the boards ripped off, though no light seemed to penetrate the place. 'The building is owned by a local farming family who have declined to make any comment on the situation.' She watched as the frown formed on Michael's face, when he turned to look at her, she couldn't meet his eyes.

  He had turned back to the television and Jenna had felt her face freeze in disbelief, the screen showed her mother pulling out of the bottom of the drive in the Land Rover, she appeared to look directly at the camera, before pulling onto the lane.

  'Though it's now believed that the body was at some point removed from the house and taken to the tower known locally as 'the needle house.' The building was originally built by the Radfield family and is now owned by the local water authority.'

  Michael had turned and left the room without looking back.

  Tina had moved quickly to the television and turned it off, her face burning with embarrassment.

  'I'm sorry, Jenna, I had no idea…'

  'Don't worry, lass, you weren't to know.' Ronnie sighed and pushed his flat cap back onto his head.

  Jenna didn't know what to do, part of her wanted to follow Michael to try and explain how sorry she was for what had happened, another part wanted to run and hide.

  'Jenna, you have nothing to feel guilty about.' Fossey was waiting for the traffic lights to turn green; he turned in his seat, a concerned look on his face.

  'I just feel so…' she struggled for the right word, her head heavy, her brain disengaged.

  'I'm sure when he's had time to think rationally, Michael will realise that you and your family had nothing to do with any of this.'

  She didn't see how that was possible, it was as if they had been withholding information from him, she felt disgusted with herself, she was no better than Lasser.

  When the lights changed to green, Fossey moved forward and then slammed on the brakes as a blue Audi bulleted from the left missing the front of the Range Rover by inches. Jenna screamed, and Ronnie lunged forward, the seat belt saving him from hitting the windscreen. Fossey saw Lasser hunched over the wheel of the Audi before it screamed across the junction and vanished from sight.

  'That was him!' Jenna sounded out of breath, her voice quivering in anger and shock.

  Fossey checked his mirrors then made his way across the junction. 'Are you two all right?'

  'That man is an idiot!' she could feel her heart racing, the blood thundering in her ears.

  Ronnie adjusted his cap. 'Well, the bugger was definitely in a hurry.'

  'Probably off to harass some twelve year old for not having lights on their bike,' Jenna snarled.

  Fossey smiled. 'Believe it or not, Jenna, Lasser's one of the good guys.'

  Jenna locked her gaze on the mirror. 'You're joking, right?'

  He indicated and pulled the car over to the curb. 'Listen, I know you think he was hard on Michael, but he wants the best for the boy.'

  'He's got a funny way of showing it; I mean, he hit him…'

  'No,' Fossey shook his head, his face serious. 'He defended himself; Michael was the one doing the hitting.'

  'But that's only because he wouldn't tell him anything.'

  Fossey thought for a moment. 'Believe me, Jenna; he was doing Michael a favour.'

  'I don't see how you can say…' she stopped, as Fossey's words sunk in, Jenna closed her eyes. Lasser hadn't said anything because it was too gruesome, too horrific. She could feel the sting of tears; feel a sense of despair smothering her, her familiar world fragmenting around her.

  62

  Driving along the pitted lane in broad daylight had been bad enough but at night even with the headlights on it was proving cataclysmically bad for the suspension. Lasser gave full vent to his frustration as the front wheels slammed down another yawning pothole.

  'Son of a fucking bitch!' he flicked on the main beam, just in time to see a fox disappearing into the hedgerow. After two more minutes of torturous bump and grind he pulled up; the darkness beyond the windscreen was a solid block.

  Leaning over he fumbled in the glove compartment and pulled out a torch before climbing from the car. He could feel a chill in the air, a thin breeze whispering down from the moors bringing with it the scent of heather. Finding a collapsed section of the wall, he clambered over and headed off between the trees.

  Under normal circumstances, a place like this could mess with your head but when you took into account that some maniac could have been walking along this very path with the butchered corpse of Billy Jones slung over his shoulder, then he could see why Harper had sounded so nervous.

  He had to bend to avoid the low branches of a huge oak, the torchlight picking up the thick trunk of the tree. This was a place of shadows and threats, anyone could be hiding yards away, and you wouldn't have a clue. When he saw the arc of light in the distance, it was with a genuine sense of relief. He made his way down the hillside, a couple of times slipping on the leaf-littered floor, his feet leaving a black scarring in the earth.

  'Harper, where the hell are you?'

  'I'm over here, sir!' she shouted in reply.

  Lasser moved to the right, and then, from nowhere it began to rain, for a moment he looked up confused, the drizzle on his face feeling like a new sensation.

  She was standing in the centre of the circle of light, the rain falling around her like a fine, silver mist.

  He trudged over. 'You OK?'

  She looked relieved to see him, a nervous half-smile on her face. 'I'm not too bad, sir; I see you brought the weather with you.'

  'Black clouds seem to follow me everywhere; now did you get in touch with the station?'

  'Yes, sir…'

  'Listen, drop the ''sir'' I don't like it, never have.'

  She looked at him in surprise. 'Oh right, well Meadows said he'd get help up here when someone became available.'

  'That means never,' he looked towards the tower. 'So, you're sure about closing the door?' When he saw the frown on her face, he held up his hands. 'I know it's a stupid question, but I just need to be sure.'

  'I'm positive.'

  'Right, we'd better take a look,' he walked towards the tower, Harper falling in at his side.

  'Do you want me to come in with you?'

  He pushed the door open. 'No, you stay here, I won't be a minute, besides there's hardly enough room to swing a cat around up there,' he shone the torch towards the narrow stone staircase.

  'OK, sir,' she blushed when Lasser looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 'Sorry, force of habit.'

  'No problem.' Four strides took him to the bottom of the steps, the torch illuminating a multitude of cobwebs clinging to the rough sandstone walls. He began to climb, counting the steps, giving up when
he reached sixty-seven. By the time, he got to the top his calves were throbbing. Poking his head through the trapdoor, he shone the beam around the narrow stone room, his face at floor level.

  He could see the bloodstain on the wooden floor, a dark tinge that would probably remain for eternity or at least until the tower was demolished. Apart from the fact that all the boards had been removed from the narrow slots, there was no evidence that the forensic team had even been there.

  'Sir!' Harper's voice sounded muffled, the stones absorbing the sound.

  'What is it?'

  'The lights have gone out!'

  He turned on the steps; the darkness appeared to swirl towards him.

  'Sir,' he could hear the tremor in her voice, sense the urgency.

  'I'm on my way.' Despite the panic in her voice, he took his time, the last thing he wanted was to slip on the steps, he could imagine himself arriving at the bottom in a tangled heap, limbs twisted and broken. When he reached the exit, Cathy had her Maglite on, the beam sweeping back and forth between the trees. 'The tech guy said he'd filled the generator with enough fuel to last until morning,' she said in a tight voice.

  'Yeah and Hopkins said he was sending someone out to partner you.'

  She threw him a sour look. 'You think this was done deliberately, just to spook me?'

  'There's only one way to find out, come on,' they headed out towards the generator, Harper's light picking up the bulky shape in the darkness. When they reached it, he shone his torch over the casing until he came across the clear plastic fuel gauge; he tapped the glass with his finger. 'According to this it's showing three-quarters full.'

  'So, why would it just stop running?'

  He crouched down, the beam flickering on the metal body of the generator, when he came to the power cut-off button he frowned.

  Harper moved behind him, peering over his shoulder. 'What's the matter?'

  Standing up, he made a sweep of the area, the light slithering out between the trees, shadows rising and falling like huge, black waves crashing against the face of a cliff.

  'Someone's pulled the cut-off switch.'

  'What do you mean, pulled?'