Desolate Hearts Page 12

  'DCI Bannister said he'll ring if anything happens, but for now I'm off-duty.'

  'He seems like a pretty full-on guy,' Craig said.

  Warm air started to pour from the vents as Odette selected first gear and checked the mirrors. 'He is.'

  'I take it the tall one with the dark eyes was Lasser?'

  'That's right,' she replied, pulling out behind a single-decker bus, the back window smeared with muck, the advertisement beneath trying to entice her to have her breasts enhanced.

  'I take it he's a no-nonsense type of guy as well?'

  'He has his moments,' Odette replied, her face unreadable as she turned right by the side of The Moon Under The Water public house.

  'So, what's the score with the man I saw in the churchyard?' he asked.

  'What do you mean?'

  'Come on, Odette, when I gave you the description, it was obvious that you knew the guy, and you don't have to be a psychologist to know that the news came as a shock.'

  The bus in front pulled over to the left and Odette moved past, keeping her speed down on the slippery surface. 'Our paths have crossed before,' she admitted.

  Craig looked out of the side window, his teeth clenched for a moment and then he relaxed as he turned to the front again. 'Do you think the white-haired guy left the head in the doorway?'

  'Look, Craig, this is not the kind of thing I'm allowed to discuss.'

  'I get that, but you can understand my curiosity.'

  Odette flicked him a glance and he smiled sheepishly.

  'Yes, the man you described is known to us, and let's just say he's the kind of person I hoped I would never have to see again.'

  'That bad, huh?'

  She nodded as she slowed down for the junction, feathering the brakes and coming to a halt. 'Yes, that bad,' she replied before pulling out into the traffic.

  'So, you've actually met the man before?'

  'On a number of occasions.'

  The road straightened out, on the whole free of snow, the ploughs having been busy pushing the white stuff to the side of the road.

  'He's been in the town before then?'

  'He has,' her hands rested easily on the wheel, a frown plucking at her normally smooth brow.

  'Lasser's bigger than I thought he would be,' Craig said, and almost smiled when he heard Odette sigh in relief at the change of subject.

  'You think?'

  'Well, you don't talk about the guy much, but I didn't expect him to be so rough-looking.'

  'Rough-looking?' Odette asked, her frown deepening.

  Craig shrugged. 'You know what I mean.'

  'He's one of the good guys, and I trust him completely.'

  'I just meant he looks like a handful,' he offered, as Odette indicated and turned left, the side road packed with snow untouched by the council gritters.

  'I would trust Lasser with my life, and believe me, I can't say that about many people.'

  Craig turned away again, although this time his lips curled back into a smile, his mind working through the options.

  'Go easy,' the voice inside said.

  Craig pursed his lips and nodded imperceptibly as Odette pulled onto the car park of the old mill, the red stone building now housed apartments instead of spinning jennies.

  'Why don't you have a bath and I'll cook us something to eat?' he suggested.

  Pulling on the handbrake, she turned the engine off and looked at him. 'That sounds too good an offer to turn down.'

  'Sorted then,' he said before pushing the door open.

  Odette hesitated for a moment before following.

  36

  Lasser stood by the sink waiting patiently for the old kettle to boil, the elements inside rumbled and popped as the water gradually heated up.

  Mia was sitting at the kitchen table, her shoes nestled in the mouse droppings, trying to hide the shock at how this elderly lady, one of her parishioners, had been forced to live.

  Dorothy sat opposite, her face showing her disbelief, 'I can't believe they had put his head on the church door and now you've come all the way out here just to see me,' she said, her voice full of quivering awe.

  'Sergeant Lasser told me a little about what had happened, and I thought at a time like this you might like some company,' she said.

  Dorothy smiled tentatively. 'When I was a child I used to love going to the church, I used to love to sing in the choir and I helped arrange the flowers during my summer holidays.'

  The kettle boiled at last and Lasser poured water into three chipped cups.

  'Why did you stop?' Mia asked.

  'As soon as we were married, my husband stopped me, he said I ''wasn't allowed in that fucking bastard place''.'

  Lasser winced as he heard Mia gasp.

  Turning and placing the drinks on the table, he found Dorothy smiling, completely unaware of the words she had just spoken, Mia looked shocked at hearing this elderly lady calmly quoting her dead husband's foul words.

  'Well, with a bit of luck your husband will be burning in hell for the things he did to you, Dorothy,' Lasser said, his face deadly serious.

  Mia threw him a look of surprise and he shrugged.

  'I know it's wrong of me, but I hope so too,' Dorothy said in a small voice.

  Pulling out a chair, Lasser sat down. 'Can you tell me if you have any regular visitors coming to the farm?' he asked.

  'Lord no, the postman used to come, but my husband put a box up at the end of the drive to make sure they never had to come close to the house.'

  'Why did he do that?' Lasser questioned.

  Taking a sip from the cup, Dorothy placed it back on the scuffed table top. 'It was so they wouldn't see him dressed in women's clothes.'

  Mia blinked, her hands closing tight around the mug of tea.

  Lasser folded his arms, his face unreadable. 'He did that a lot then?'

  'Oh yes, I used to think he would stop but the older he got the more he did it.'

  'So, no one came to the farm then?' Lasser asked again.

  'No, there was just me and him, I got the shopping in once a week and that was the only time I was allowed out, unless something needed fixing outside.'

  Mia lifted the cup and took a sip, her eyes watchful as Dorothy looked towards the kitchen window. 'Before I had my daughter I had two miscarriages, you see back then he never wanted any children. He called them a ''fucking waste of time and money''.'

  Mia shivered, it seemed so wrong, this frail septuagenarian using such obscene language, though she suspected that after a lifetime of listening to her husband blaspheme, it had lost any sense of meaning, they were just words, no more, no less.

  'When I told him I was pregnant, he took me to the bedroom and fastened me to the bed before using the coat hanger on me.'

  Lasser glanced at Mia, he could see the horror on her face as she realised what had happened.

  'He kept me there for two days until he was satisfied that I'd lost the child, the bloodstains are still up there on the floorboards,' she looked at Lasser and smiled. 'You've see them, haven't you?'

  Lasser nodded, his face grim. 'I have, Dorothy.'

  'He did that with the second child as well and then on the third he told me he'd decided to let me keep it.'

  'That's when you had Bernice?'

  'Yes, you see I think he finally realised that if we had children then eventually they would be able to help around the farm.'

  'Do all the work for him you mean?' Lasser asked, the anger rumbling inside.

  'That's right, he never loved any of them, they were just donkeys to him.'

  Mia almost gasped again at the implication, yet Dorothy continued to smile, her eyes alight with a kind of joy that only the savage death of her abusive husband could bring.

  'Have you ever had anyone working on the farm?'

  'On no, he would never have paid for that. I mean, look at this place,' Dorothy said. 'It's never made any real money, we used to own a lot more land, but he preferred selling it off r
ather than doing any hard work.'

  Mia looked around the dismal room and felt the true horror of how this woman had lived her life. 'Listen, Dorothy, there's a carol service tonight at the parish church and I was wondering if you would like to come?'

  Easing back in his chair, Lasser watched as the tears spilled onto Dorothy's cheeks.

  'I haven't been to a carol service since I was twelve.'

  'Well, if you'd like to come then we can take you back with us now, have something to eat and then later I can drop you off back home?'

  'Home?' suddenly Dorothy looked confused.

  'She means back here, Dot,' Lasser said quietly.

  The elderly woman looked at him, before wiping the tears away. 'My mother used to call me Dot,' she said sadly. 'All he ever called me was, ''you useless cunt ''.'

  'Yes, well, you don't have to worry about him anymore,' Lasser said, trying to keep the tremor of anger from his voice. 'So, what do you say, a meal around five or sixish, carols with mince pies and non-alcoholic mulled wine handed out in church later?'

  Dorothy Marsh pushed herself up slowly from the chair. 'I'd love to.'

  Fifteen minutes later they were in the car, Dorothy in the back, her eyes filled with amazement.

  'It's so warm in here,' she said with a smile.

  Lasser looked at the old, battered Land Rover parked by the side of the ramshackle house, the vehicle smothered with snow.

  'I take it the heater in the Land Rover doesn't work?' he asked.

  'God no, it broke over ten years ago, there was never any central heating in the house, so there was no way he would have paid to have the heater fixed in that, especially as he never used it.'

  Closing her eyes, Mia said a silent prayer as Lasser pulled away from the house of horror.

  37

  Bannister sat behind the wheel of the Audi, Carole Henson by his side, her face grave as the last of the officers left the churchyard crime scene. Even the rubberneckers had vanished, driven away by the freezing wind and snow, no doubt in a rush to post the gory news on social media from the comfort of their centrally heated homes.

  The winter sun was setting, the spotlights on the church splashing light onto the frosty churchyard.

  'And Odette's boyfriend is sure about the description?' Carole asked.

  'The guy's ex-army, he's trained to be observant,' Bannister explained.

  'If you want a cigarette, don't let me stop you.'

  Bannister fumbled the pack from his pocket and slid the window down a fraction before lighting up. 'Thanks,' he said with relief.

  'OK, if we're saying Plymouth is here then we have to assume he's the one doing the killing.'

  Taking a hasty puff, Bannister grunted in agreement.

  'The question is why?' she asked.

  'Well, knowing how he operates then he probably has a list of people to work through.'

  'Christ, let's hope not.'

  'The thing is, once he's killed someone he usually doesn't bother making a spectacle of that fact.'

  'Come on, Alan, the man's a maniac, he's killed using a gun and knife and anything else that comes to hand.'

  Bannister found himself nodding, Carole was right, Plymouth could be inventive if he needed to be. 'But what's the link between a nineteen-year-old kid who was doing well at college and an old deviant like Bernard Marsh?'

  'I don't know, but we need to find one before he decides to kill again.'

  Bannister felt the pressure mounting and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

  'Right, it will be a while before we know more, so get yourself home and we can start afresh in the morning,' Carole said.

  'But…'

  'No arguments, we all need to be wide awake over this, so we rest when we can.'

  'No worries,' he grumbled.

  'I've got extra officers on the streets tonight just in case.'

  'Yeah, well, with that all white hair he'll be almost invisible in this weather.'

  Carole smiled as she opened the door. 'See you later, Alan,' she said before climbing out and heading for her car.

  Banister continued to smoke the cigarette as Carole drove away.

  'Where the hell are you, Plymouth, you bastard,' he snarled as the light continued to die on another freezing death-filled day.

  38

  The man stood on the doorstep, the phone held to his ear, the pain in his head grinding like two tectonic plates, his face granite hard as his wife whined.

  'I just don't feel safe there and having a maniac on the loose has made me realise how vulnerable we all are, living in the middle of nowhere.'

  He took a ferocious pull on the cigarette, watching the German shepherd wander around the snow-clad yard as the light bled back into the dense forest. 'You always said you loved it here, in fact, when you moved in you said you never wanted to leave,' he replied, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

  'People change.'

  'I haven't changed.'

  His wife sighed heavily. 'That isn't something to brag about.'

  'I'm not bragging, I'm stating a fact, you were happy here, your ''dream home'' you called it, until you realised that your friends wouldn't be calling every day for a brew and a gossip.'

  'There you go again, talking rubbish. I'm looking at the big picture.'

  'What ''big picture''?' he asked, throwing the cigarette into the snow as he rubbed at the pain behind his eyes.

  'We have a son, a son who is missing out on so much, he…'

  'Sam's perfectly happy here, and you know it.'

  'Well, that shows how little you know.'

  The man felt his hand tighten on the phone. 'What are you talking about?'

  'I talk to our son, I take the time to find out what he wants from life.'

  'He's six years old, he's a kid, he…'

  'Knows what makes him happy and what doesn't. He wants to be closer to his friends, he wants to be able to play with them and make new friends.'

  The man could feel the fury climbing through the heart of him, as he realised that her plans were far more advanced than he had ever imagined.

  'Told　you　so,'　the inner voice mocked through the pain.

  'So, what do you suggest?' he managed to get the words past the building fury, trying desperately to keep a lid on his emotions.

  'I want you to think about what's best for him and not yourself.'

  Her words tore through his defences and he lowered the phone to his side, his face squirming with revulsion. She was trying to get him to react, she wanted him to explode, then she could hang up and get a solicitor's letter sent out to him.

  'Play　her　at　her　own　game,　don't　react,　you　need　to　plan,　you　need　to　think.'

  Taking a huge breath, he nodded in agreement, lifted the phone back to his ear and closed his eyes against the pain. 'OK, once the snow melts, I'll get the house valued, then we'll know what finances we've got to play with.'

  'What!?'

  He smiled grimly as he heard the shock in her reply.

  'You're right, it would be better for us all to live nearer to town.'

  'But…'

  'Who knows, we might even have more kids.'

  'Well　played!'　the laughter drifted through his mind.

  'More kids!' she screeched.

  'Well, yeah, I mean, it would be good for Sam…'

  'I don't want any more children, I want to concentrate on the one we have,' she fired back, her breath almost a pant.

  The man felt the pressure inside his head ease a little as he heard the quiver of uncertainty in her voice. 'OK, no problem, I'll get the valuation sorted and then we can get the ball rolling.'

  'But…'

  'Listen, the dog wants to go out, so I'll speak later.'

  'Oh, OK, I…'

  He tapped at the phone before slipping it into one pocket and pulling the cigarettes from the other.

  Lighting up, he pondered what to do, he had no intention of contacting any estate agent,
but he needed to buy some time then he could plan things properly.

  He had called her bluff and he knew it would take her time to regroup. The fact was she did want the bigger house with the neighbours and their brat kids, but now he realised that she didn't want him to be with her. She would have to think again about how she could get her hands on the money without looking like a prize bitch. The dog came wandering back brushing past his legs as it padded into the kitchen, snow clinging to its fur.

  Trouble was, once she ran out of options, she would try and steamroller him into the ground, no longer caring how she looked to the outside world.

  'Yes,　but　by　then　we　will　be　ready　for　the　sly　bitch,'　the voice informed him. 'Ready　to　take　her　head　and　dump　it　in　the　river,　no　special　place　for　her,　no　Christmas　tree　or　church　door.'

  The man nodded in agreement, he would simply drop her dismembered body from the local bridge and watch as the body parts bobbed away to eventually join the sea.

  Checking his watch, he smiled, suddenly he realised that there were benefits to not having her here at the house, it freed him up to go out whenever he wanted to.

  Stepping back into the kitchen, he grabbed his thick hooded coat from the hook behind the door and stepped out into the freezing air.

  After he had removed the snow from the van he climbed in, his eyes drawn back to the window of the house, he could see the tree glittering with lights, a familiar picture-perfect image. When he felt the pain flutter inside his brain he drove away, his mind emptied of all thought until all that mattered was finding another victim to keep the agony at bay.

  39

  Lasser eased back into the soft cushions as Jackie handed over the mug of hot chocolate.

  'Ta,' he said.

  Dipping low, she kissed his forehead and he smiled up at her.

  'Are you OK?' she asked before sitting opposite in the rocking chair, tucking her right foot under her bottom, wild, dark hair framing her face.

  'Been a grim day to be honest.'