Blood Bought Page 2

  'I get that, but…'

  'Plus, we have him on CCTV the night Minnie went missing, he was on King Street minutes before she vanished.'

  Odette nodded and yawned, she had been off for a week and spent the seven days in the Lakes, this was her first night back on the job and she still felt out of the loop.

  'So, did you have a good time in the great outdoors?' Lasser enquired, blowing smoke skywards.

  Glancing at him, Odette nodded. 'Yeah, it was nice.'

  They started to walk back towards the house. 'Did you venture up Scafell Pike?'

  'Yeah, we did but it was raining hard up there, you couldn't see anything.'

  '''We''?' Lasser asked.

  'There was a few of us, it's safer that way.'

  'Sooner you than me,' he said, stepping to one side to let her into the kitchen.

  'The weather was lovely for most of the week though.'

  'Does you good to recharge the batteries,' he said as they made their way through the house, the stink of cannabis permeated the air, the wallpaper stained with old cigarette smoke.

  They watched as the Transit van pulled away with the three men in the back, Bannister sat behind the wheel of the Audi, phone clamped to his ear.

  'Perhaps you should get away for a few days,' she said as they stepped out and closed the door behind them. 'The change of scenery will do you good.'

  'Come on, Odette, I live in Wigan what more could a man possibly want?'

  'Well, you could meet new people, talk about things that don't include work.'

  'Is that what you did?'

  She glanced at him before looking away, a hint of colour in her cheeks.

  Lasser found himself frowning as she walked down the garden path and climbed into the passenger seat of Bannister's car.

  A thin wind blew, and he shivered as he trudged towards the gate, his face etched with puzzlement.

  3

  Clifton Marple sprinted down the hillside, dressed in his usual shorts and running vest, sure-footed, his sinewy legs eating up the ground, dashing around the trees, sprinting through the mud with ease.

  At sixty years old, he ran like someone half his age. Reaching the small stream, he leapt over without breaking stride. Half a minute later, the rain started to fall and at last he came to a halt; taking a sip of water from the bladder on his back he checked his watch before smiling.

  He had made good time, knocking almost half a minute off his personal best.

  Taking another mouthful of water, he swallowed and set off walking, reaching the path, he turned right, heading back to his car. It was two weeks before the fell-running competition in the Lakes and he fancied his chances in the over-fifties race. The training had gone well, three months of running the same route had paid off and now all he had to do was stay injury-free for the next few days and he would be ready.

  His wife thought he was mad, but the truth was he loved to stay in shape, loved to push himself to the limit. It had been dark as he climbed out of bed and he had no doubt that by now Emily would just be stepping into the shower, she would then eat her breakfast wrapped in a fluffy robe looking out of the window as she waited for him to return.

  The path began to meander down the hillside, the rain bouncing off the evergreen leaves above sounding like distant small-arms fire.

  Reaching the lane, he stopped for a moment to rub at his aching thighs before heading towards the car. Beeping off the alarm he took his towel out of the boot, a quick wipe over to get rid of the sweat and rain on his face and legs, then he tossed it back in the boot, along with water-filled bladder from his back and dressed quickly in his usual black tracksuit. Lastly, he removed his mud-splattered running shoes, sliding them into the ASDA bag before slipping into a pair of brand new, pristine trainers.

  Collapsing thankfully in the car, he flicked on the wipers, started the engine and pulled out of the small lay-by, his hands resting easily on the wheel as he drove around the tight right-hand bend. Reaching down, he clicked on the radio and pressed the pre-select button, the advert came blaring out offering a two-for-one deal on double glazing.

  Marple scowled as he glanced down at the tuner, his fingers stabbing at the buttons in an effort to find something soothing to listen to.

  He fiddled with the radio and the car swerved slightly to the right, when the wheels went with a thump, he hit the brakes, his eyes widening in confusion as he looked through the rain-spattered windscreen.

  Checking the mirrors, he frowned, the radio skipped from one channel to the next, the rear-view mirror showed the deserted lane, the rain falling heavily now, the wipers doing their best to clear the deluge from the windscreen.

  Unclipping the seat belt, Marple pushed open the door and leaned out slightly. His eyes sprung wide as he saw the body sprawled on the ground, head and shoulders beneath the car, the blood being washed away by the rain before vanishing into the undergrowth.

  'Oh my God!' he gasped, just then his foot slipped off the clutch and the car lurched forward. 'No, no!' he screeched as he desperately tried to locate the brake.

  In his panic he planted his foot on the accelerator by mistake, the car jumped forward and the vehicle bumped a second time. He snatched on the handbrake, his body lathered with sweat, his eyes enormous with fear.

  Scrambling from the car, he spun to the right and then he was heaving into the ferns, the morning protein drink spraying from his gaping mouth.

  Wiping a shivering hand across his sticky lips, he slowly turned and burped again at the sight. The head had been crushed, he could see tufts of dark hair and shattered bone amongst the wreckage of grey brain matter and gore. Ten-pound notes lay around the body, some were plastered to the ground with the rain, he could see a couple – caught in the brambles at the side of the lane – fluttering in the wind. When the stream of blood reached his new running shoes Clifton Marple screamed, his spindly arms flew skywards and suddenly he felt all of his sixty years weighing down on him like never before.

  4

  By the time Lasser arrived at the scene, Doc Shannon was down on his haunches by the side of the body.

  Shaun Rourke stood over him with a golf umbrella shielding the doc and the body until the protective tent arrived.

  Parking behind Shannon's battered Land Rover, Lasser climbed out before grabbing his Berghaus waterproof jacket from the back seat and slipping it on.

  Pulling the hood up, he trudged forward through the heavy drizzle, the air pungent with the scent of rotting foliage enriching the earth.

  When he saw the flattened head, he grimaced. 'Morning, Doc, crap weather again.'

  Shannon stood up and Lasser smiled as he looked the doctor up and down.

  'Diet's going well I see.'

  Shannon beamed through the wild-man-of-the-woods beard and nodded. 'Almost two stone,' he said with pride, patting his rapidly-shrinking stomach.

  'Well, you look better for it.'

  'I feel champion!'

  Lasser's smile grew wider, the body on the ground momentarily forgotten about. It had been three months since Shannon had suffered a mild heart attack and Lasser had helped to empty Shannon's house of bars of chocolates and crisps. In the end there had been a huge bin bag brimming with sweets and Lasser had taken them to the local food bank.

  'So, they gave you the all-clear to come back to work then?'

  'Light duties they said – whatever that means.'

  'Well, it's great to have you back,' Lasser said, clapping him on the back.

  Shannon continued to smile until he looked back down at the body.

  Taking a deep breath, Lasser followed his gaze, the man was dressed in dark jeans with a grey camouflage pattern that showed patches of mud and grass stains around the knees, his khaki T-shirt soaked by the downpour. On his feet he wore a pair of leather boots, the tips scuffed, the heels worn down on one side, the scattering of money on the ground wet, muddy and blood speckled.

  'And you say this Marple guy ran over the head?' Lass
er asked.

  Shaun glanced up from the body. 'He was out for an early-morning run, he came through the woods. Apparently, it's a regular route, he's in training for some competition. He said he jumped in the car and he admitted to fiddling with the radio, he took his eyes off the road and well you can guess the rest.'

  Lasser could hear the rain intensify on the hood of his jacket. 'So, if it's just a straight RTA why have you called us out?'

  Shannon ran a hand over his wild beard. 'Because he was already dead when he was run over.'

  '''Already dead''! How can you be sure?'

  'The body's been here a good few hours – plus he was stabbed, a single knife wound to the chest.'

  Lasser looked back down at the body, moving slightly left he could see the wound in the chest showing through the tear in the T-shirt.

  He sniffed and looked out at the dense woodland, the cinder path meandering through the trees before vanishing into the heavy rain.

  'It still doesn't explain what he was doing here and what's with the money?'

  'Well, I would say our friend has been here for at least twelve hours,' Shannon explained. 'As for the cash, I have no idea.'

  'He could have been a dogger,' Shaun piped up.

  Lasser nodded slowly. 'Perhaps.'

  'You don't sound convinced,' Shannon said.

  'Where was Marple parked?' Lasser asked.

  Shaun pointed to the left. 'He said he was parked just around the corner, there's a small lay-by on the left.'

  Lasser fiddled with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. 'And I take it there's no other car parked up there?'

  'No, boss, I came in that way and there were no other cars on the lane.'

  'And I didn't pass any on the way here, so if he was looking for sex with strangers then it means he would have had to leave his car up near the Hall which has to be the best part of a mile from here.'

  'So?' Shannon queried with a raised eyebrow.

  Giving in to temptation, Lasser pulled out the cigarettes and sparked up. 'Doggers don't mind a bit of trampling through the undergrowth, though normally they'll park in a lay-by and then head behind the bushes, they don't go wandering off into woodland for a mile looking for a blow job.'

  Shannon thought for a minute before nodding in agreement. 'I see what you mean.'

  'And look at the way he's dressed, it's been pissing it down for days and yet he's wearing a T-shirt with no jacket.'

  'Maybe the killer took his coat?' Shaun suggested.

  'And left the cash?' Lasser said with a shake of the head.

  'Well, I've checked the pockets and there's no sign of identification, though he does have a set of car keys in his right pocket,' the doc explained.

  Lasser crouched down and slipped a hand into the pocket, lifting out the keys.

  'Vauxhall,' he said as he looked at the emblem on the fob. 'Are SOCO on the way?' he asked.

  'They should be here any minute,' Shaun replied.

  'OK, let's have a ride up to the Hall see if we can find the car. Are you OK waiting here, Doc?'

  'As long as I have the umbrella I'll be fine,' he replied, lifting a Granny Smith from his pocket and taking a gargantuan bite.

  Handing the umbrella over, Rourke climbed into the squad car and Lasser got behind the wheel of the Audi. Pulling the hood back from his head he waved to Shannon as he performed a three-point turn before setting off with Rourke following closely behind.

  Wheels splashed through standing water as Lasser took another pull on the cigarette. He had been heading to the station to question the Bunting brothers and the mystery man when Bannister had called and told him about the body on the lane.

  So, he had made a detour to the woods, part of his mind had been annoyed at missing out on the chance to grill the brothers, but he knew Odette and the DCI would get to the truth and hopefully get a lead on the elusive Randal Archer.

  He thought back to the body of Minnie Burrows, dumped amidst the roadside crap of pizza and burger boxes and empty lager cans. She had lain there, her sightless eyes staring up at the scudding grey clouds, her neck mottled with bruises from where some bastard had strangled her. Skirt torn and rucked up, she had been naked from the waist down; her feet bare, the heavy rain had washed away the spray tan from her thighs leaving the flesh tinged blue.

  Doc Shannon had done the autopsy, according to him penetration had taken place but then the killer had used a litre of bleach on her vagina both inside and out in an effort to destroy any DNA evidence. He knew that Shannon was still running tests in the hope of finding a sperm sample but the longer it went on the more Lasser suspected the tests would be inconclusive.

  The lane trailed left and right, hugging the bottom of the hillside, water ran down the tarmac forming a small stream to the left, fallen leaves bobbing along for the ride.

  When he came to the junction he pulled out and turned right, keeping his speed down he glanced in the mirror, smoke trailing into his eyes as he pictured Odette turning away, a glow of colour in her cheeks when he had questioned her about the trip to the Lakes.

  She had gone alone, yet she had admitted she hadn't climbed Scafell Pike alone. Lasser felt his brow furrow and then he shook his head. Had he really expected her to go mountain climbing on her own, it made sense to tag along with others, safety in numbers and company on the long climb.

  Company. The word seemed to lodge in his mind and he took another pull on the cigarette before sliding the window down to let the smoke escape into the wet and windy day.

  The night she came back from the holiday, he had asked her how it had gone, and she had said she'd had a great time. Before he could question her further, Odette had headed upstairs to have a shower and then sleep.

  Lasser had sat in the lounge with Karen Miller, she had been watching Love Island on the television and eating grapes as the buffed wannabees tried to cheat and lie their way to the big prize.

  After ten minutes, Lasser had said good night and headed upstairs, Odette's bedroom door had been closed though he had heard her voice, low and muted.

  When the car rumbled over the cattle grid, Lasser was jerked back to the present and he cleared his throat as he pushed the sense of concern from his mind.

  At the top of the hill, the lane opened up, the rain bounced off the windscreen, the wipers working full blast in an effort to keep it clear.

  Spotting a Vauxhall Omega parked in the corner of the car park, Lasser drove in and parked up alongside, pointing the fob at the window and pressing the button.

  The lights on the Omega flashed and Lasser unclipped his seatbelt, pushing the door open just as Shaun Rourke pulled up behind.

  Opening the passenger door of the Vauxhall, he looked around the interior, he could see a black waterproof jacket tossed into the back. Sitting in the passenger seat he had a rummage in the glove compartment, the small space contained the service book and a bag of strong mints alongside a packet of foil-wrapped condoms.

  Shaun moved to the side of the car, his arm resting on the top of the open door as the rain continued to bounce down on the roof.

  'Check the boot, will you?' Lasser asked, pulling down the sun visor.

  'No problem,' Rourke walked to the rear of the vehicle, grateful to shelter under the boot lid for a moment.

  Leaning over, Lasser pulled down the visor on the driver's side, pulling out the slips of paper slotted behind the plastic strip. A quick look showed only petrol receipts dating back over a month, the owner of the car using Sainsbury's in Wigan to fill up on a regular basis.

  'Boss, you got a minute?' Shaun shouted.

  Lasser climbed out into the rain and pulled the hood back over his head as he walked to the rear of the car.

  Shaun stepped to one side as Lasser looked down into the open plastic bag, he could see a stack of magazines, the one on top showed a naked man, his huge member standing proud, his bare foot pressed down on the neck of a woman who lay curled on the floor at his feet.

  With a scowl
, Lasser turned to a second bag that contained a leather mask, handcuffs and a whip.

  The rain pattered on the hood of his jacket as he stepped back and looked around the empty car park.

  'Why did our guy end up a mile away and why didn't he take his coat with him?'

  Shaun looked at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. 'Perhaps he was in a rush.'

  'Or he was chasing someone,' Lasser pondered.

  'But I thought he was a dogger, I mean, when you look at the gear in the boot it's something those people would use.'

  Lasser pursed his lips. 'Yeah, but the stuff is still here, he wasn't wearing a mask or carrying a whip. I think someone was with him in the car…'

  'But there's no evidence of anyone else being here.'

  Lasser looked at the young PC and raised an eyebrow. 'We have the coat on the back seat, if the dead guy intended going into the woods to fool around then he would have taken it with him. Last night it was pissing it down and…'

  'Yeah but it could have been dry at first and then started to rain.'

  'It's October, not the middle of summer, and if he was close enough to the car he would have come back for the jacket, but he wasn't, he was a mile away through dense woodland and the only reason he would do that was if he was chasing someone. I mean, the guy ended up dead, some bugger stuck him with a blade and left him there with a handful of ten-pound notes around the body.'

  Shaun opened his mouth and then saw the reason to what Lasser was saying. 'So, they were together in the car and it kicks off and this other person does a runner and the guy with roadkill for a head chased after them?'

  'Yeah, but he got more than he bargained for. What I don't get is why he ended up dead. If you think about it, whoever he was chasing had the knife, so why chase after someone who was armed, unless roadkill didn't know the other person had a knife?'

  'Perhaps they went into the woods together and it turned nasty.'

  Lasser shook his head, the scowl still in place. 'Look, Shaun, why would they go for a stroll in the pissing wind and rain when they had a nice warm car here?'