The Needle House

by Robin Leslie Roughley

  'The men who died in the mine?'

  'What about 'em?'

  'Did you know them?'

  Ronnie sighed and looked up at the sky, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. 'Aye, lad, I did.'

  'Grandad!'

  As Ronnie turned away, Fossey saw the relief plastered on the old man's face.

  'Coming, love!' he shouted and then began to hurry towards his granddaughter, his wellies swishing in the tall grass.

  Saved by the bell.

  70

  Lasser stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth, his stomach rumbling, crumbs dropping into his lap.

  Cathy nibbled on a chicken nugget. 'Do you think he was telling the truth?'

  'I don't think he has a clue about any of this, though that doesn't mean he hasn't rubbed some nutter up the wrong way.'

  Cathy dipped the remainder of her nugget into the little pot of barbecue sauce. 'Maybe when we get hold of the family records it might throw up some clues.'

  'Well, if he is telling the truth about the lack of money, then it seems unlikely this has anything to do with dodgy business dealings.'

  'But what about all the cash from the land his father sold, I mean, it's obvious he wasn't spending any on the house?'

  'According to Molder, the old man liked his whisky, but I can't see him spending the proceeds from the sale of a seventy thousand acres of land on booze alone, though it'll be interesting to see who he actually sold the land to.'

  He glanced out of the side window, a bus rumbled to a halt on the High Street, it took him a couple of seconds to recognise the kid running along the pavement, a rucksack on his shoulders, dodging in and out of the road to avoid colliding with other passers-by.

  'Now, why is Michael Jones in such a hurry?'

  Cathy raised her head; a nugget halfway to her mouth. As the bus began to pull away Michael caught up and began to hammer on the door, the driver stopped, and the doors hissed open.

  Lasser frowned as the boy disappeared inside, a moment later it joined the steady stream of afternoon traffic.

  'Now that's something I don't like.'

  'It's not a crime to catch a bus.'

  'Did you notice the destination?'

  'Sorry, I was feeding my face.'

  'Horwich, now why would Michael be heading out that way?'

  Cathy swivelled in her seat. 'Maybe he's not going all the way, I mean, that bus goes all around the estates before it heads out of town.'

  'Right, let's see, shall we?' he clamped the burger between his teeth and started the car.

  A few seconds later, he pulled into the traffic; the bus was a hundred yards ahead pulling up at another stop.

  A blob of mayonnaise dropped from the burger and plopped into his lap.

  'For fuck's sake!' he tossed the remains of the Big Mac back into the box and grabbed a napkin from the dashboard before mopping up, while trying to keep his eyes on the road. When he glanced at Cathy, she had a hand to her mouth, a second later she burst into laughter.

  'Something funny, PC Harper?' he asked with mock severity.

  He scanned the pavement, not that he expected to see Michael, after all, you didn't run for a bus just to get off at the next stop.

  Cathy dabbed at her eyes with the napkin before gathering up the rubbish and dropping it into the brown paper bag at her feet. Outside, she could see the buildings slipping by, many of the shops were boarded up.

  'Do you like working around here?' she asked.

  'Is that a trick question?'

  She smiled. 'No, I'm serious. I mean, some coppers prefer working in the city, others…'

  'I don't think geography comes into it, you either love the job, or you don't. I happen to fall into the category that doesn't.'

  Cathy looked at him in surprise. 'Oh, come on, you wouldn't do the job if you didn't enjoy it.'

  He eased off the accelerator, letting a car out from a side street. 'Ten years ago, I was probably as keen as Spenner, but not anymore.'

  'What happened to change your mind?'

  'Let's just say they lied to me in the job description.'

  She took a sip from the carton of Cola. 'So, why not do something else?'

  Lasser watched as the bus took a right turn at the traffic lights, by the time he reached them they had flicked to red. 'Believe me I've thought about it often enough, but the truth is I haven't a clue what I would do. I mean, I can't see myself getting any further up the ladder…'

  'You don't really strike me as the type who would be happy sitting behind a desk.'

  'You're probably right, not that I'll ever get the opportunity to try it out.'

  As soon as the lights changed, he turned right; there was no sign of the bus.

  'Bloody great.'

  'Don't worry; take a left at the island that bus goes around the Lancaster Road estate.'

  'Takes in all the local beauty spots, does it?' he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

  71

  Ronnie remembered a time when making a noise in a library was like farting in church, it was frowned upon. However, the library in Horwich was buzzing with sound. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in the building, but it had to be at least thirty years ago, and he hardly recognised the place. Two walls were lined with computers, every chair had someone sitting in it, either surfing the net or playing on some game. At the far side of the room, a group of small children were sitting on the floor in a semicircle while a young woman read them a story, every few seconds they would laugh with delight.

  'Are you OK, Grandad?'

  Ronnie looked up at her and gave her a half-smile. 'I was just thinking how much this place has changed.'

  'It's just that you seemed quiet on the way here, I mean, you hardly said a word in the car.'

  'Where's Fossey?

  'He's in the reference section.'

  'Right well, I'm going outside for a fag.'

  She watched him walk towards the door and decided to follow, something wasn't right here. Ever since they'd climbed into the car, her grandad had looked on edge. En route to the library he'd smoked two full cigarettes, one after the other, something she had never seen him do before.

  She found him sitting on a bench under the shade of a large hanging basket, the colourful blooms spilled over the sides. He had yet another cigarette clasped between his lips, elbows on knees, his eyes fixed firmly on his old work boots.

  She slid in beside him. 'Grandad, what's the matter?'

  He glanced at her then looked back at the ground. 'Oh, it's nowt, love.'

  'Come on, who are you kidding? You look like you're waiting for something bad to happen.'

  He dropped the cigarette onto the floor and ground it under his heel. 'Just leave it, Jenna.'

  'So there is something?'

  'How long's he going to be in there?'

  'Has Patrick said something to upset you?'

  'Not yet.'

  She frowned. 'What sort of answer is that?'

  He slid the cap from his head and began to ring it between his hands. 'Look, love, when he turned up I thought he'd just be here for a few hours and if you were lucky he might put a page or two in his next book about the gardens or maybe the needle house.'

  'Well yeah, that's what I thought as well.'

  'But it's not working out like that is it?'

  'You make it sound like he's been here for months.'

  'Bloody feels like it.'

  She frowned and then reminded herself to act like an adult; shouting and bawling would get her nowhere. 'It's only been a week.'

  'So what's he doing in there?' he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, 'Raking up old bloody gossip and sticking his nose into other people's business!'

  'What are you talking about?'

  When he turned to her, she thought for one horrifying second he was going to cry, she placed her hand on the top of his. 'Look, just tell me what this is all about, I mean, what does it matter if he's trying to find stuff about the R
adfields, most of it will be on the disk that I gave him anyway.'

  'Aye, but not all of it.'

  She shrugged her narrow shoulders. 'He might find something new, but I doubt it. I mean, I've been through all the old papers, you know I have.'

  'I know, love, but I've got a feeling he's looking for summat specific.'

  'Such as?'

  For a moment, she didn't think he was going to bother with a reply, then he sighed. 'The farm.'

  'What, our farm?'

  'Aye.'

  'But why would Patrick be interested in where we live?'

  'It's probably because we got it on the cheap.'

  'Hang on, Grandad, the Radfields were selling off loads of land back then.'

  Ronnie nodded. 'I know that, love,' he paused, 'but you see we paid a lot less than most.'

  Jenna felt she should be able to work out what he was hinting at, but this past week had left her feeling numb, her brain disengaged. 'I'm not following you?'

  When he looked up, Fossey was standing a few feet away, a thin blue file clasped in his right hand. 'Why don't you ask him, from the look on his face I think he would be able to tell you better than I could.'

  Jenna looked at Fossey. 'Have you got any idea what he's talking about?'

  'I think I might but let's go to my place, we've still got apples to pick and it's quieter there.'

  Ronnie rose to his feet. 'Aye, lad, apples never fall far from the tree, do they?'

  Jenna looked from one to the other, completely baffled.

  'Bad ones don't, Ronnie.' Fossey replied

  72

  'There he is,' she pointed through the side window of the car. Lasser caught sight of a rucksack disappearing into the busy crowd of afternoon shoppers.

  The traffic on the High Street began to move forward again, he swung the car down a narrow side street and parked up on double yellow lines.

  'Do you want me to try and find him?'

  'Don't bother, Cathy; we know where he's heading.'

  'So, what do you want to do?'

  'I'll get in touch with Simms; put the ball in his court for a change.'

  'You don't think he'll go up to the tower?'

  'No way, he knows we had Radfield in for questioning, so why would he waste time going to the woods. Besides chasing Michael Jones gets us nowhere nearer to catching the bad guy does it?' he paused for a moment. 'I suppose we could chase up Radfield's solicitor, get our hands on the paperwork and see if that leads us anywhere.'

  Cathy checked her watch. 'It's half-three now.'

  'Right, we can sort that out first thing in the morning,' he pulled out his mobile. 'I'll ring Simms tell him what's going on.'

  'We passed a coffee shop on the High Street; do you want one?'

  'Yeah please, white, three sugars.'

  'Three!'

  'So, I've got a sweet tooth.'

  She shook her head and pulled on the door handle.

  'Hello, sir, it's Lasser…'

  Closing the car door quietly, she headed around the corner; it was surprising, Horwich was only twenty minutes away from Hindley but the shops were all open and busy. People were milling about in the afternoon sunshine, carrying shopping bags with the stores names stencilled onto the side, H and M, Monsoon, River Island, it made a change from Bargain Booze and Cash Converters.

  She entered the coffee shop and joined the queue, unlike Hindley nobody glared at her uniform, in fact, one or two people even smiled at her. What a difference a few miles could make. Five minutes later she headed back to the car armed with two coffees and a pack of chocolate biscuits. When she rounded the corner, she could see Lasser talking to a traffic warden.

  'Look, pal, this is police business.'

  The warden looked at Cathy as she approached the car and raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, it looks like it.'

  'And here's my colleague with the evidence.'

  The man adjusted his cap and walked away with a sour frown on his face.

  A moment later, Lasser was ripping open the biscuits. 'Simms said he would put a couple more men up at the Manor House, just to be on the safe side.'

  'What did he say about Michael Jones?'

  'Not much, I mean, the lad's done nothing wrong but I told him it wouldn't surprise me if he turns up to have a quiet word with his Lordship.'

  'So, what's next?'

  'He didn't say, and I didn't ask.'

  'Did he mention how the search was going?'

  'Not good, they think they might have a partial shoe print from the edge of the reservoir but of course it could belong to anyone and the dogs haven't picked up anything else. But he did say they're going to carry on as long as daylight lasts.'

  'So, what do you want to do?'

  'I fancy having another word with Fossey.'

  'The guy who found the body?' she looked surprised.

  He spent the next five minutes telling her about his meetings with Fossey, ending with his confrontation with Michael at the writer's house.

  'You know, maybe we should look more closely at this guy?'

  'Forget it, he's clean.'

  'So, why do you want to see him?'

  'Because the alternative is going to the woods and I don't fancy another soaking.'

  He started the car, placed his cup in the plastic holder, and then clicked the seat belt into place.

  'Can I ask you something?' she asked.

  'Sure.'

  'Why are you doing this?'

  He slipped the car into gear. 'Doing what?'

  She looked out of the window, suddenly unsure of how to continue. 'Well, I mean, you don't have to keep dragging me around with you.'

  'Dragging you around?'

  'I'm sorry, that came out wrong, what I meant to say is that I don't want you to think that because of what happened I can't do my job.'

  Lasser pulled away from the curb. 'I'm not following you, if you're saying you'd sooner be up at the woods then I can drop you there, it's not a problem'

  'No, it's not that…'

  'So, what is it?'

  'Oh, come on, you know what this job's like. Before you know it, people will start to question why you're singling me out for favouritism.'

  'You mean they'll say we're shagging one another?'

  She felt the heat in her face go up a couple of notches. 'Jesus, can't you be more subtle?'

  Lasser shrugged. 'And that bothers you does it?'

  'Of course it bothers me, I want to get 'on' in this job on merit not because people think I sleep with my superior officer!'

  She was right of course, coppers were like everyone else, susceptible to petty jealousy and rumour and once you were labelled it never went away.

  'Listen, if you feel in any way compromised by assisting me with this inquiry then I suggest you start looking for another job.'

  'Another job!' her embarrassment was rapidly turning to anger, was he threatening her in some way.

  'Listen, it's admirable that you want to build a career but in order to do that you'll have to get used to working with all sorts of people.'

  'I get along with people just fine, thank you.'

  'And if you concern yourself with what other colleagues think then you can forget about climbing the greasy pole. Now, have I given you any cause to think that our relationship is anything other than totally professional?'

  'No, of course not.'

  At the junction, he paused to get his bearings before turning right. 'If I make you feel uncomfortable then I'll take you up to Radfield's place and you can take over from 'James Bond' on gate duty.'

  Cathy squirmed in her seat. 'I'm sorry, OK.'

  'I don't want your apologies, I asked for you because I think you can do the job, you keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut. If I wanted someone who'd spend their time kissing my arse, then I'd have brought Spenner.'

  She suddenly felt ridiculous, he was right; she needed to grow a thicker skin.

  'I'm being stupid, aren't I?'

 
'Forget it; if I thought for one minute that you were going to be a hindrance then I wouldn't even entertain you.'

  'Thanks very much,' she paused, 'I suppose because of the way I acted in the woods, I thought perhaps you were feeling sorry for me.'

  'Something you should know about me, Cathy. I very rarely feel sorry for anyone.'

  She looked at him, unsure if he was joking but his face was stern, his eyes serious.

  'You're kidding, right?'

  He turned and smiled, the corner of his lips curled but the humour didn't reach his eyes.

  73

  Ronnie dropped his cap onto the table and took a long gulp from the cold can that Fossey had provided. The bench was tucked away in a corner of the garden, shaded by a bank of tall conifers.

  Jenna was sitting on the short grass, chewing vigorously on a fingernail. 'So, we got the farm because my great-grandfather was blackmailing the Radfield family?'

  'Hang on, love, I never actually said that.'

  She shook her head in disbelief; it was as if they had slipped into some parallel universe. 'I don't understand any of this.'

  Ronnie lowered his head and flicked the cigarette ash onto the grass, he could hear the anguish in her voice and it made him heartsore 'Believe me, Jenna, I didn't have a clue about any of it. I only found out after my old man had been dead about five years.'

  Fossey took a sip of his drink; the small dog lay in his lap fast asleep. 'How did you find out?'

  Ronnie sighed, he couldn't look at Jenna he felt like some sort of low-life criminal as if knowing about something meant guilt by association. Maybe he did bear some of the responsibility, after all he'd known about it for over forty years and said nowt. 'My old man left a kind of diary, I found it when I was clearing out his stuff.'

  Jenna felt like a fool, she was supposedly an expert on the family history and here she was suddenly finding that she knew sod all.

  'How come I've never seen this diary?' she asked.

  'I don't know, Jenna, I…'

  'You mean you've kept it hidden.'

  'Oh, come on, I didn't know if it was all bollocks, I mean, my old man was always keen on keeping everything in order, he had receipts for bloody everything going back donkey's years. They were all kept in this old binder, bills paid, cheques he'd written to buy animal feed, he even kept the receipt for my mother's wedding ring, absolutely everything, except what he'd paid for the farm. That's why I went to see owd Malcolm, I mean, I looked everywhere but I couldn't find any legal papers about what we paid for the place.'