Vanished Beneath: DS Lasser six (The Lasser series Book 6) (49 page)

Bannister pursed his lips. 'The
trial run
scenario?'

'I don't think we'll ever know sir,' Odette said with a sigh.

'But you have to admit it seems strange that Mary Sheldon knew Kylie Frodsham and she ends up in the water.'

Lasser stretched his back and winced in pain. 'Yeah, but Elizabeth Rogers said that Mary tried to help Kylie get rid of Hancock. When he came to the house Mary was the one who sent him away minus his front teeth.'

'So you're saying Amy would have no reason to kill Sheldon?'

'Well I don't see one; she was the one person who didn't try to take advantage of Kylie.'

'And the blonde we pulled from the water, what about her?'

Lasser shrugged. 'I was wondering about that, maybe she came from the Polish community?'

'More bloody guess work,' Bannister snorted.

'Well it might explain why nobody has come forward to report her missing.'

'Oh, so these people don't care about their own, is that what you're telling me Lasser?'

Lasser sighed. 'That's not what I'm saying, but maybe she came from outside, perhaps she'd only just moved to the area...'

'Yes well this needs sorting, no loose ends, understood?'

They both nodded in response.

Bannister threaded his hands behind his head.
'Now we come to the big one
.'

'How did Amy get her hands on the cash and the drugs?'

'Precisely Sergeant.'

'No idea
.'

Bannister lowered his hands before pushing up his sleeves. 'Not good enough.'

'Well she makes no mention of any of that in the diary.'

'Do we have any idea if they belonged to the Mellor brothers?'

Lasser shook his head. 'Not a clue, but Boris must have been involved somewhere along the line, otherwise, why bother having him killed.'

Bannister didn't look happy. 'Mills will want everything tied up with a neat little bow, he won't want this debacle.'

'Yeah well, tell him we don't always get what we want in life.'

Bannister narrowed his eyes. 'I'll try and remember that one when he's giving me my P45 Sergeant.'

'Come on you know what I mean, we know Elliot did the three from the water, and Sarah Clark - that's beyond doubt. We also know that Ross killed Cliff, Hancock and Mellor. We know Amy Frodsham instigated it all, so all the main players are taken care of.'

Odette nodded in agreement.

Bannister still looked annoyed. 'And what about the drugs found at the house, do we know if it came from a larger shipment?'

'Well it seems likely. Most of them were amphetamines with a bit of coke and a few grams of ‘H’ not a massive street value so there could be a larger stash hidden away somewhere else.'

Bannister picked up his pen and tapped it against his teeth. 'You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that someone had been helping Amy Frodsham.'

'Well yeah, Elliot and Ross...'

'I'm not talking about those two.'

Odette and Lasser exchanged a quick glance.

'You mean a
third
party?' she asked in surprise.

'Mm.'

'Maybe it was Hancock who got his mitts on the gear?' Lasser said.

'Think about it Sergeant, Hancock wasn't living with Kylie Frodsham, he'd moved out a few weeks earlier so why would he leave his stash back at a house he no longer lived in?'

Lasser tried to think of a reason and came up with nothing.

'I mean, on that estate the kids break into one another's houses for fun. If you were Hancock would you leave a shit load of drugs in the care of your druggie ex-girlfriend?'

Odette frowned at his choice of words. 'So you think someone got the drugs and cash for her?'

'Well can you see Frodsham breaking into some lockup in the dead of night wearing a balaclava and armed with a crow bar?'

'But who'd want to help her, I mean, it makes no sense.'

'Correct, DI Noble but that doesn't mean it isn't the truth.'

Lasser lowered his head and tried to slot this new idea into the puzzle, but like Odette said it made no sense.

'Right you two, I've got to go and convince Mills that we did a first rate job.'

'Hang on, we
did
do
a first rate job,' Lasser said with a frown.

'Bollocks!' Bannister said. 'Now off you go and try and avoid killing anyone for a few days Lasser, I've enough paperwork as it is.'

'I didn't kill any bugger!'

Bannister flapped his hands as they headed for the door.

'Blah, blah, blah
,' he said with a grin.

Lasser threw him a poisonous look as he walked from the room.

125

Norvil sloshed another shot of Bell's into the glass and swallowed it in one gulp.

A week since his brother had died; it felt like a lifetime ago.

The Calor gas heater in the corner of the office popped and farted as the gas ran out, darkness pressed against the window of the cabin-come-office.

Norvil sighed in the ghastly swivel chair and watched as the elements on the fire began to fade from red back to white as the heat vanished.

This was becoming a habit, getting to the yard at the crack of dawn and sitting like a zombie until night fell. Norvil eyed the empty bottles in the corner before dragging a hand across his eyes.

He thought of Dave Pitt, the useless twat who couldn't even do one simple thing right. Norvil shook his head in disbelief. His grass on the force had told him that a quantity of drugs had been found at the house along with a significant amount of cash.

'Bloody idiots,
' he mumbled before filling the glass again.

When headlights flared at the window Norvil Mellor felt the first fluttering of real fear, he listened as the car came to a halt and then the light vanished.

Bella started to bark as Norvil reached for crow bar at the side of the chair.

The lads from Liverpool had been calling now for over twenty-four hours, no voice mails, just missed calls, calls that Norvil had been too scared to take.

Pushing up from the chair, he swayed on unsteady legs before walking to the door. As he reached it he stopped and frowned, Bella had gone quite.

Taking a thin swallow of air, he pulled the door open, lifting the bar as he moved onto the top step.

A man with the shock of white hair smiled up at him, he was crouched by the side of the huge German shepherd, his left hand ruffling the fur.

'Who the fuck are you?'
Norvil asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

With one final pat the man stood up, he looked to be about six-two, an expensive looking suit hanging from a slender frame. 'Mr Mellor?'

'I said
, who–the–fuck–are-you?'

The smile seemed to flicker on the man's pale narrow face. 'Do you mind toning down the language Norvil I have sensitive ears?'

Norvil stepped down onto the second rung.
'I said
...'

'My name's Plymouth and I'm here to take care of some business.'

'Are you from the Pool?' Norvil asked, his throat felt desert dry, the whisky stripping the moisture from his mouth, or maybe it was blind fear.

'No Mr Mellor, I don't come as anyone's representative, just call me freelance.'

'
Freelance
?'

'You've had a troublesome few day's haven't you my friend?'

Suddenly the weight of the bar seemed to increase; sweat broke out on the scrap man's forehead his right arm began to shake. 'What do you know about it?'

'You're brother dead, all your drugs and money gone,' he shook his head sadly. 'You see, I've worked around these parts once before. I guess you could say I know the lay of the land,' the smile was back in place, white teeth shining in the gloom.

'What's that to me?'

'Back then I wasn't self-employed as such...'

'Look why don't you just
piss off
and leave me alone?'

Plymouth raised an eyebrow. 'You see I like to organise things, like to tinker around the edges,' he spread as his arms wide. 'I mean, who doesn't?'

Norvil stepped down to the dirt floor.

Plymouth's smile grew ever wider. 'The thing is I've made plenty of money in my line of work, well, enough to get by, if you get my drift.'

'Look...'

'But the thing is money can't buy you happiness Norvil, don't you agree?'

'Well it makes being miserable more bearable,' Norvil said as he took a step closer.

Plymouth laughed aloud, his head thrown back like a wolf howling at the moon. 'That's good Norvil, that's very good, but back to the story. Like I said I have cash, but the mind stagnates when it has nothing to occupy itself with, it ceases to function as it should.' The white haired man perched his backside on the bonnet of the black Mercedes and folded his arms. 'No, the thing that brings happiness is stirring the wasps nest, but you have to be careful not to get stung,' he nodded sagely at his own advice.

'That sounds like a load of shit to me.'

Plymouth shrugged. 'We each take comfort where we can, you get yours from dealing your drugs and making money, of course that's all in the past now. Your dealing days are over Norvil and my tinkering days are just beginning.'

'Fucking idiot!'
Norvil snarled and lunged forward, the bar flying upwards as he closed the gap.

Two seconds before he died, Norvil Mellor felt the strangest of sensations; it was as if time for him stopped, the bar seemed to quiver in mid-air. He felt air seep into his lungs, felt the beads of sweat as they oozed from his open pores.

He tried to bring the bar down into that pale smiling face and then time snapped back to normality and he rose onto his tiptoes, a smear of savage triumph on his face.

The bullet hit Norvil on the chin, angling upwards it destroyed his brain, tossing the remains onto the dust covered floor, the bar sprang from his open fingers and Norvil fell to his knees, his unseeing eyes blinked up at the blond haired man and then all concept of life left them as he toppled sideways.

Plymouth slid the gun inside his jacket and grabbed Norvil by the ankles, dragging him across the yard, whistling as he went to work. 

126

Being a retired doctor meant the turnout for James Drake's funeral was a well-attended affair.

Lasser stood by Medea's side as the vicar mumbled a few empty words of comfort; he could hear one or two people sniffling into handkerchiefs, some bloke behind blew his nose, it sounded like a fart.

Emma stood on Medea's left, two close friends holding hands in grief.

Directly opposite he could see Odette Noble with head bowed, her hair for once hanging loose, pale against the black of her jacket.

Five minutes later, it was all over and the mourners fled the scene like a football crowd desperate to get to the boozer after extra time.

The vicar closed his bible and made the sign of the cross before walking away over the short-cropped grass.

'Are you OK, Em?' Medea asked.

Emma looked washed out, her face like alabaster. 'I guess.'

Medea nodded to Lasser before taking Emma's arm and steering her back to the car, as they walked away Emma looked over her shoulder towards Lasser, a small sad smile on her lips.

Odette walked around the grave and stood by his side. 'Tough day all round,' she said.

Lasser looked up at the grey sky. 'Yeah well, at least it's over now,' he replied as they set off walking.

When he saw the black Mercedes weaving along the narrow path that cut through the cemetery, he frowned. 'You think they'd show some respect,' he mumbled.

The man behind the wheel turned and smiled at Lasser, and he felt his stomach roll. Suddenly he was flying over the grass.

Plymouth raised a hand and hooked a thumb over his shoulder before getting his foot down.

By the time Lasser reached the path, the car had vanished through the gate.

'What the hell was all that about
?' Odette asked as she pulled up by his side.

Lasser spun around and peered at the gravestones, when he saw the mound of dark earth he set of running again.

'Lasser what are you doing
?' This time it was Medea who shouted as he blasted around the stones.

Odette looked towards her and gave a shrug before setting off after him.

As she approached, she saw Lasser bend down and pick up an envelope from the black soil.

'Jesus what do you think you're
doing?'
she glanced to her right; she could see Medea storming towards them her face fractured with anger.

'Look at the flowers
,' he said as he ripped the envelope open.