The Needle House

by Robin Leslie Roughley

  'Don't worry; we should be able to fire it up again,' he pushed the button back in until it clicked, then flicked the ignition switch, the engine rumbled but refused to start, he tried it again, a frown on his face, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Moving around the back of the machine he suddenly stopped, two of the heater plugs were gone.

  He looked towards Harper; she was sweeping the beam back and forth slowly, a section at a time. Somewhere close by an owl screeched, Lasser pulled out his mobile, scrolled through the numbers then pressed connect.

  'Meadows, is that you?' he turned and flashed Cathy a smile. 'Right, I'm up at the tower; I want you to get bodies up here ASAP.'

  Harper could hear a mumbled response, though she was unable to make out what the desk sergeant was saying.

  'What do you mean everyone's busy?' He paused to listen 'I don't care if Wigan are playing at home, it doesn't take the whole squad to police a game of football, now…'

  Harper made another sweep with the light.

  'I don't give a flying fuck what Hopkins said, I'm telling you what I need, now get on with it. I'll ring back in five and you'd better have good news for me, do you understand?' he thrust the phone back into his pocket.

  'Problem?'

  'Someone's removed two of the heater plugs,' he saw her eyes spring open in panic. 'Come on, we'll wait over by the door.'

  When they reached the tower, Lasser pulled the metal door closed and slipped the padlock through the hasp.

  'I'm glad you're here,' she said.

  'Yeah well, I don't know what Hopkins was playing at, but he's fucked it this time,' he paused, 'you'd better turn your light off, it's no use running down both sets of batteries.'

  A second later, her light vanished. 'Who do you think took the plugs?'

  'I don't have a clue and to tell you the truth I'm in no hurry to find out.'

  'But they've got Radfield in custody.'

  Lasser looked at her, there was no doubt she was a good-looking woman, her features delicate, eyes a deep brown, problem was she was only twenty-six maybe twenty-seven and he was the wrong side of thirty. 'Thing is, I don't think Radfield had anything to do with this.'

  Cathy looked at him in surprise. 'But I thought they found evidence that tied him to the murder.'

  'Oh, we have the evidence all right; the trouble is I think it was planted.'

  Harper slid her hand onto the handle of the baton. 'Jesus, so you mean the killer's still out there?'

  Lasser grunted. 'It might be a good idea if you got your nightstick out, Cathy.'

  He heard a familiar sound of a baton sliding from its sheath.

  'I don't mind admitting this place scares me witless,' she said.

  He didn't reply, instead he pulled out his phone and hit the redial button. 'Meadows, you'd better have good news or so help me…' he listened for a few seconds; his eyes scanning the trees, everything about this place made him feel uneasy. 'Right good, and don't think you've heard the last of this as far as I'm concerned you're a bloody idiot. An officer contacted you for assistance and you fucking well ignored it,' he paused, as Meadows tried to explain. 'Not good enough, dropping a bollock is one thing but failing to do your duty is entirely different,' he ended the call. 'Let the bastard stew on that for a bit.'

  'Is he sending someone?'

  'They should be here in the next thirty minutes,' he paused and pulled his phone back out. 'In fact, I'm going to ring Hopkins while I'm in the mood,' he slapped the phone to his ear and waited. Harper held her breath, concerned about what Lasser was going to say, if he mentioned her then Hopkins would make her life a complete misery.

  'Bastard's not answering,' he paused, 'come on, I can't see the point in hanging around here we might as well wait in the car.'

  Cathy didn't need telling twice, she clicked her light back on, a thin mist curled around the base of the trees, where the ground dipped it was thick and impenetrable. The rain intensified. Lasser could hear it on the leaves above, feel it landing heavy on his face.

  Halfway up the incline, Cathy lost her footing, her feet skidding from under her; Lasser hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her upright.

  'Thanks,' she straightened her jacket, Lasser caught sight of milk white skin before she pulled it down, then she turned to look at him. 'You're stronger than you look.'

  'Are you saying I look like a weakling?'

  She felt her face burning in the dark. 'I didn't mean it like that.'

  'Come on, let's keep moving.'

  She kept hold of his sleeve, prepared to let go if he so much as looked at her. He kept the torchlight trained in front; Cathy swept hers from side to side. When her light hit the ruined face, she screamed, the sound muffled by the damp air, the torch jerked from her hand as if suddenly charged with a blast of electricity.

  Lasser tried to grab her as she spun away retching, the baton slipping from her left hand; she landed on her hands and knees and began to scuttle away through the wet leaves.

  'Cathy, what's the matter?' he strode towards her and knelt by her side, resting a hand on her heaving back. When she lifted her head, he could see shock etched onto her face, her eyes wide and frantic.

  'Over there,' she pointed a quivering finger to the left; Lasser aimed the beam into the darkness, the body was slumped against the thick trunk of the huge oak.

  'Stay here,' the rain was soaking through his jacket, setting up a chill against his skin. Lasser kept the beam moving, the light lancing out, trying to see everywhere at once. He kept getting glimpses of the body, the shoes, the dark suit jacket, shirt, tie, all seen through the strobe effect of the jittering beam. When he was six feet away, he raised the light.

  Lasser ran a shaking hand over his scalp, the head was resting on the left shoulder, face tilted skyward. Both eyes open, the yawning mouth gathering rainwater, locked in a silent scream. He flicked the light away, it was little wonder she'd thrown up. Taking a deep breath, he pointed the torch back towards the corpse; the throat had been slashed wide, dark blood oozing from the wound. He glanced over his shoulder; Cathy was still kneeling amongst the leaves, her face tilted towards the sky, as if hoping the torrential rain would wash the image from her mind. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through the menu and pressed the call button, a few seconds later the muffled sound of Beethoven's fifth symphony came from the body.

  Ending the call, he turned and moved quickly back down the hill, his feet slithering on the wet grass, arms windmilling for balance. By the time he reached Cathy, she'd managed to haul herself to her feet.

  'Come on, back to the car.'

  'Is he dead?' she whispered.

  Without answering, he grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and began to pull her away, giving the body a wide berth.

  'Is he dead?' she repeated, her breathing ragged.

  'You could say that.'

  'Do you know…?'

  'No more questions let's just concentrate on getting out of these fucking woods.'

  He tried to keep the torch steady, his hand still grasping her sleeve, twice she slipped, and he dragged her unceremoniously to her feet, pushing her up the hillside, rainwater mingling with the sweat that coated his face.

  When they reached the wall, Lasser shone the light back down the hillside as if he expected some shadow shape to come screaming out from beneath the trees, brandishing a cutthroat razor, lathered in blood. Cathy scrambled over the wall; he leapt after her and beeped the alarm. Once inside, he jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine and flicked the heater on full, before finally switching on the headlights.

  The windows began to steam up, Cathy, swiped a sleeve down the glass and peered out into the night. 'You're sure he was dead?'

  'Positive.'

  'I mean, who the hell would be wandering around here at this time of night?'

  Lasser glanced sideways at her. 'You didn't recognise him?'

  She turned towards him. 'What do you mean?'

  'Cathy,' he paused, '
it was Hopkins.'

  She wiped at her mouth with a trembling hand. 'Are you sure?'

  'I'm sure.'

  'Can I have a cigarette?'

  He pulled one out, lit it and handed it over. 'I didn't know you smoked?'

  'I packed it in about six months ago,' she took a pull and then coughed as the smoke hit her lungs, 'God, that's good.'

  Lasser raised an eyebrow. 'It sounds it.'

  She looked at him, even managing a weak smile, then he saw a change in her eyes 'If you hadn't turned up, it would have been me next.'

  Lasser blew out through pursed lips. 'Don't even go there; you should never have been left on your own in a place like this.'

  'Christ, he must have been killed as soon as he left me.'

  'And I must have walked straight past him, so what does that say about my detective skills?'

  She puffed at the cigarette, as if the rush of nicotine somehow allowed her to think more clearly.

  'What about Colin?' she asked.

  'Who's Colin?'

  'The guy who set the lights up.'

  Lasser thought for a moment. 'There's no sign of a van, so I presume he must be OK.'

  Harper frowned. 'What about Hopkins's car?'

  'I didn't pass it on the way up here.' Slipping the car into gear, he began to move forward.

  'What are you doing?'

  'I just want to see if he parked further up the lane.'

  She sighed and clicked her seat belt into place, glad to be doing something, rather than just sitting in the car with the dark looming against the glass.

  Lasser pulled out his phone and tossed it into her lap. 'Ring Meadows, tell him we want an ambulance up here and the forensic team, in fact tell him we want the works.'

  She hesitated. 'Wouldn't it be better coming from you?'

  'I'm sick of talking to that prick, if he tries to give you any grief use your initiative.'

  He spun the wheel to the right in an effort to avoid a large pothole; he could see a curve in the lane ahead, the headlights swept out over the moors.

  'Sergeant Meadows, it's PC Harper,' she went quiet as she listened to the desk sergeant. Lasser kept his eye on the road and his ears open.

  'Yes well, a change of plan we need an ambulance ASAP and also the SOCO team out here as quick as you can.'

  As the car bumped around the corner Lasser spotted the white Audi parked tight to the wall, if there had been a sliver of doubt in his mind it was dispelled by the sight of Hopkins's car.

  'I realise that, but we have a body up here and we need the area securing,' she paused, 'yes, I'm with Sergeant Lasser now.'

  He pulled up behind the car then looked at Cathy; she glanced at him then gave a small apologetic shrug. 'He's busy, that's why you're talking to me, but I can always get him if you want, though to be honest I don't think he'd be too happy about being disturbed.'

  He could hear nonsensical chatter coming down the phone; she pushed a stray strand of dark hair back behind her ear. 'Thanks, I appreciate that,' she snapped the phone shut and handed it back to Lasser.

  'Did he give you any grief?'

  'He tried to, though when I mentioned about putting you on the phone he suddenly became cooperative.'

  Lasser snatched on the handbrake. 'I bet he did,' dragging a hand across his hair, he flicked the droplets of rainwater onto the dashboard.

  'I didn't think we'd make it back to the car,' her voice was low and brittle. 'He must have been somewhere in the trees, watching me, watching us.'

  He saw a flash of headlights in the distance, though from up here it was difficult to judge how far away the vehicle was.

  'It seems you were right about Radfield, I mean, he's off the hook now,' she said.

  'Yeah, but until we catch whoever did this I wouldn't want to be in his patent-leather brogues.'

  'Where do you think the killer is now?'

  'If he has any sense he'll be far away from here.'

  Lasser saw a flash of blue, a few seconds later, two or three more lit up the valley. 'It looks like the cavalry are on the way.'

  She wiped at the knees of her trousers, trying to get rid of the mud stains, some of the morons she worked with would only make some sexist comment about her being down on her knees in front of a superior officer.

  When she looked up Lasser was watching her, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

  She frowned. 'Are you a bloody mind reader or what?'

  Holding up his hands, his smile turned into a wide grin. 'No comment,' he opened the door and climbed out, the sound of sirens bleating in the distance gradually getting louder as the rain hammered on the roof of the car.

  The next minute headlights blasted into his eyes, forcing him to look away, he squinted into the night, a white van was pulling up, the side door slid open and a dark shape climbed out a camera already on his shoulder. Lasser saw the interior light come on as the driver opened the door and jumped out.

  'I don't believe this; the bloody media get here before our lot, how pathetic is that?'

  She looked at him over the roof of the car. 'Do you want me to get rid of them?'

  'Save your breath, these bastards never listen; you'll simply find yourself on the six o'clock news looking like a total bitch.'

  Lasser pulled up the collar of his jacket in an effort to keep out the rain as the two men approached.

  'God, where did all this rain come from?' The driver of the van asked, his hair slicked back; the man was wearing an old Belstaff wax jacket over a crisp white shirt and tie, a stud glinted in his left earlobe. When he was a couple of feet away he stopped, the camera operator standing slightly to his left, already filming.

  Lasser pointed a finger to the sky. 'Well, I'm no expert but I think it's coming from up there somewhere.'

  The man smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkness. 'My name's Mike Brewster, Orbital Television.'

  The sound of the sirens grew louder, Lasser moved around to the front of the car.

  'Well, Mr Brewster, I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to move your van.'

  'Why, officer, is there a problem?'

  'Not at the moment but there will be if you don't move it in the next thirty seconds.'

  Brewster frowned and then glanced over his shoulder. 'The keys are in it, just move it will you, Bob.'

  'Move it where, boss?'

  'I don't care where; just get it shifted,' Brewster snapped.

  Bob trudged back to the van and started the engine, as he pulled away, the line of police cars arrived. Lasser walked towards them, as he reached Brewster he stopped. 'Thanks for your cooperation, Mr Brewster.'

  'No problem, Mr…?'

  Lasser ignored him and moved forward, he could see car doors opening and dark shapes in luminous vests climbing out.

  'Right, lads, I want a perimeter set up, no one gets over this wall is that understood?' He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  A mumble of responses, flashlights switched on, he noticed a few stifled yawns, the faces pale blobs in the moonlight. 'Has Paul Currie arrived yet?'

  'I'm here, sir.' Currie moved forward, the large German Shepherd pulled tight to the side of his leg.

  'Right, half a dozen of you stay here, the rest with me,' he made for the gap in the wall, under the trees the rain was gathering on the leaves before falling in heavy drops.

  'What are we looking for, sir?' Currie asked.

  'Hopkins has been murdered; I want you to see if you can pick up the scent of whoever is responsible.'

  He could hear the shocking news travelling down the line, furtive whispers and hissed expletives.

  A multitude of torchlight swept back and forth careering off the trees, criss-crossing one another in the darkness.

  'Hopkins?' Currie asked in disbelief.

  'Don't make me repeat myself, Paul,' he moved to the right, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

  After fifty yards, Lasser held up a hand and turned. 'OK, lads, I want tape set up between these
trees, twenty-yard perimeter and keep your eyes open. I don't want any possible evidence trampled underfoot, Currie, you come with me.'

  The men began to fan out, Lasser and the dog handler slithered further down the hill, the dog becoming agitated, nose to the ground, the panting increasing as the animal picked up a scent.

  Lasser didn't know if he expected the sight of Hopkins to be any less shocking second time around, if anything it was worse. The rain had washed the blood away from the neck wound, the torchlight showing just how deep the cut had been.

  'Christ, it looks as if they tried to take his bloody head.' Currie made the dog sit at his side, resting a hand on its head, almost as if he were trying to shield the horrific sight from the animal.

  'Right, Paul, whoever did this must be covered in blood, so I want you to see if you can pick up the scent.'

  'OK, sir,' he moved forward keeping a tight grip on the leash; Lasser could smell the wet earth, he had no idea whether the rain would help or hinder the animal.

  'Sir, the SOCO team have arrived,' he looked over his shoulder; Cathy was walking towards him her eyes locked onto his.

  'OK, what about the reporter?'

  'He's making a nuisance of himself, but I think he's got the message about keeping the right side of the wall.'

  When she reached his side, he saw her glance towards the body then quickly look away.

  'Are you OK?'

  She looked up at him, squared her shoulders and nodded.

  He could see the paper-suited forensic team moving down the hill, as they came closer he recognised Carl carrying a small metal briefcase in his right hand.

  'Carl, over here, mate!'

  Carl looked up and raised a hand, then slithered his way over.

  'All right, boss, I thought you'd have been tucked up in bed by now?'

  'Remind me, what does a bed actually look like?' he nodded towards the body; Carl's eyes widened in shocked when he saw the figure slumped against the tree.

  'Jesus, is that who I think it is?'

  'There are no flies on you, are there, mate.' Lasser replied.

  'Well, the shit's going to hit the fan, that's for sure.'

  'That's why I don't want any fuck ups, I…'

  'Sir, he's onto something.'

  Lasser turned, the dog was going berserk, hind legs digging into the soft earth as he tried to drag himself forward.