Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5)

by David J Gatward

  ‘Something wrong, Officer Okri?’ Harry asked. ‘This isn’t an art class and we’re not expecting you to create a masterpiece, I assure you.’

  ‘Just wondering what to call it,’ Jadyn said. ‘I mean, is it Jim’s Farm, or Metcalf Farm? Or do I put Sheep Rustling? No, wait, what about, The Sheep Rustlers?’

  ‘You can’t call it that!’ Matt said, shaking his head. ‘You’re not writing a Western starring Clint Eastwood, are you, lad?’

  ‘What about Jim’s Case?’ Jadyn asked.

  Harry rubbed his eyes, not tired exactly, but just on the edge of weary. ‘Put whatever you want,’ he said, ‘but do it quickly, so we can get on!’

  Jadyn waited a moment, then wrote ‘Sheep Theft’ on the board.

  ‘There now, that wasn’t so complicated, was it?’ said Harry.

  ‘Details then,’ said Matt, watching as Jadyn started to take notes. ‘We’ve got fifty sheep gone from the farm.’

  ‘Taken at some point either very late Monday night or very early Tuesday morning,’ Harry added. ‘Because they wouldn’t have risked being spotted. Jim’s parents were in bed, Jim was out having a few beers.’

  ‘And they came up through the fields from the main road at the bottom of the hill,’ Jadyn said, and Harry heard excitement in the young officer’s voice. He was clearly enjoying himself. And it was nice to see, as well. Not that Jadyn was ever anything other than happy and enthusiastic, it seemed. In many ways, Harry thought, he was rather similar to Jim’s dog, Fly, though not as furry, and he didn’t lick you when he was happy or wanted attention. And he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t drop to the floor to roll onto his back and ask for a tummy rub either.

  ‘We cordoned off the layby down there,’ Matt said. ‘Forensics had a look, if you remember, to see if they could get anything, you know, tyre marks and whatnot. There’s some up by the barn, too, like, and they’re a match. The tracks in the field connect both scenes, but unless we find the vehicles, it’s sod all use to anyone.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Harry asked. ‘Because whatnot isn’t of much use to anyone, is it?’

  ‘A few cigarette butts,’ Jadyn said. ‘Though the DNA hasn’t come up with any matches.’

  ‘If we catch them, that could come in useful,’ Harry said, taking a stingingly hot sip of his tea.

  ‘Apparently, they’re posh cigarettes though,’ Jadyn added. ‘So, that’s something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Posh?’ Harry said, raising an eyebrow. ‘How do you mean? Since when has any cigarette been posh?’

  ‘They’re French,’ Jadyn said. ‘Gauloises.’

  ‘Well, you don’t find those in your average newsagent,’ Matt said.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Harry agreed. ‘So, they’re either from a specialist tobacconist, bought online, or brought back from a holiday.’

  ‘Wait, there’s such a thing as a specialist tobacconist?’ Jadyn asked.

  ‘There’s a cracking little one in Bristol,’ Harry said. ‘Like travelling back in time.’

  ‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ Matt said.

  ‘I don’t,’ Harry replied. ‘But a cigar at Christmas is nice now and again, right?’

  ‘What about damage to property?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Harry said, ‘other than a cut padlock. Whoever they were, they did the job as clean as they could. They knew where they were going to hit, and when. Drove up through the fields, reversed up to the back of the barn, loaded up the sheep, and were gone. They weren’t there to rip gates off.’

  ‘You’d think someone would’ve spotted them though,’ Jadyn said, ‘and called it in.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Harry said. ‘Really, what would they have seen to report? A truck being loaded up with sheep? This is Wensleydale, remember. That kind of thing happens every day of the week as far as I can tell. I mean, Hawes is a place where farmers walk their flock through the centre of town!’

  It didn’t happen much, but when Harry had first seen it, he’d been more than a little surprised. The tourists had loved it, the locals barely noticing it at all. He’d half wondered if it was something for a television show, but seeing no cameras and the fact that everyone seemed to regard it as entirely normal had told him otherwise.

  ‘What about down at the roadside?’ Jadyn suggested. ‘Must’ve been a fair few people and vehicles involved.’

  ‘And anyone driving by would have just seen people going about farming business,’ Matt said. ‘Farmers work odd hours. Bit like us in that, really. And that bit of road, you wouldn’t see much anyway. The layby is on a bend, there’s trees all around it; you’d not see much even if you were looking.’

  ‘So, what will they do with the sheep, then?’ Jadyn asked, stepping away from the board to have a look at his notes.

  ‘Black market meat, at a guess,’ Harry said, the sadness and disgust in his voice impossible to disguise, because they’d all heard what Jim had said about his dad’s flock, and the thought of all those years of work just ending up in some dodgy Friday night kebabs was more than a little hard to take. But it wasn’t just the cheap places that took the cheap meat, was it? ‘It’s easy money and there’s always someone out there who’ll buy it. Back down in Bristol, I had to deal with a few places that were selling the stuff. Not your dodgy late-night takeaways either. Well, a few were, but there were high-end places, too. Restaurants with high rents, tight margins. You’d be surprised.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Matt said. ‘Which is a shame, really, isn’t it? And that flock, seeing as it’s Jim’s dad, they won’t be just your average, everyday normal sheep either. It’s a prize flock. You remember all those rosettes and certificates on the walls in the kitchen? Takes years of work and breeding, does that. It’s just a waste.’

  Harry thought back to when they’d visited the farm, remembering the rosettes. It only served to make him feel even worse about their seeming helplessness at what had happened.

  ‘Insurance will cover it, thought, right?’ Jadyn asked. ‘That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?’

  ‘The cost of it to Jim’s parents isn’t just in the value of the sheep,’ Matt said. ‘Though that won’t exactly be inconsiderable. Like I said, it takes years to breed a good flock. It’s Jim’s dad’s life’s work. And you can’t just replace that.’

  ‘Didn’t really think of it like that,’ Jadyn said.

  Harry stared at the board. ‘You’ve got the details of the sheep, right?’

  Matt said, ‘Yes, got the lot.’

  ‘And you’ve shared it around other areas, because the people who did this, they might not be local, but I doubt they’ve travelled too far. If this was done in the night, then my educated guess is that they’d want to be back home before daybreak.’

  ‘So, say a couple of hours’ journey time, right?’ Matt suggested.

  ‘Three at the most,’ Harry said. ‘You never know, we might hear something. And if forensics come in with anything new, share that, too. Auction mart is open on Tuesday, right?’

  ‘It is,’ Matt said.

  ‘Then maybe I’ll see if Gordy can come over and join us for a walk around. My face on its own is a little obvious, but Gordy would blend in well, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Nice idea. Here,’ Matt said, holding out the paper bag he’d pulled from his pocket, little spots of grease marking its surface.

  Harry reached over and removed a brownie.

  ‘Just so you know,’ Matt said, ‘the funeral for Helen Fletcher? It’s a week tomorrow. James Fletcher called in yesterday to let us know. I don’t really know why, but it was clearly something he wanted to do, so there we are.’

  Harry thought about that for a moment, then said, ‘Maybe it’s his way of letting us know he’s okay.’

  ‘Could be,’ Matt said.

  ‘Actually,’ Jadyn said, ‘about that . . .’

  ‘About what?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Mr Fletcher.’

  ‘What about him?’

  Jadyn was quiet
for a moment then, and Harry noticed, looking a little awkward.

  ‘Well, whatever it is, spit it out,’ Harry said. ‘Unless that look means you need the loo, in which case, you don’t need to ask for permission or put your hand in the air or even wait till break time.’

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ Jadyn said. ‘It’s about the house.’

  ‘What about it?’ Harry asked.

  ‘You don’t know then?’

  ‘Know what?’ Harry said, trying his best to not sound too exasperated.

  He saw Jadyn’s eyes flick over at Matt then back to him.

  ‘It’s about the ghost,’ Jadyn said.

  Harry almost choked on the brownie he’d just swallowed. ‘Ghost?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s haunted,’ Matt said, and Harry heard not a single note of sarcasm in his voice. ‘I thought everyone knew?’

  The room fell silent, all eyes now on Matt.

  ‘I guess not, then,’ Matt said.

  ‘I’m assuming this isn’t where you tell me you’ve been moonlighting as a paranormal investigator,’ said Harry, having just about recovered. He remembered then how, as they’d left Black Moss on Thursday, after visiting James, Matt had seemed like he was going to say something, and then waved it off as nothing. Had this been it? Harry thought.

  Jadyn said, ‘Now that would be awesome! Chasing ghosts and stuff? Brilliant!’

  Harry looked across at the constable, his stare and a shake of his head enough to quieten him down.

  ‘So, what’s this ghost, then?’ Harry asked, turning his attention to Matt. ‘Because I can see you want to tell me, and that if I don’t let you, then you either just blurt it out anyway, or hold it in just long enough to give yourself an aneurism.’

  ‘I don’t know many of the details,’ Matt said, ‘but from what I understand, the reason the house is the way it is, well, that’s all down to the ghost.’

  ‘By that, I’m assuming you mean why it’s missing that bit in the middle,’ Harry said, ‘and not that the Munsters have moved in, has too many bats, or that people heard strange howls and screams in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Who are the Munsters?’ Jadyn asked.

  Matt and Harry ignored Jadyn.

  ‘Oh, there’s nowt wrong with it as such,’ Matt said. ‘Just that massive missing section, that’s all.’

  ‘And what about it?’ Harry asked.

  ‘It was knocked down because it was too haunted.’

  At this, Harry roared with laughter. ‘Come off it!’ he said. ‘You’re having a laugh! Someone knocked down part of a house because of a ghost? You’re surely not going to sit there and tell me you believe that, are you?’

  As he waited for Matt to answer, Harry continued to chuckle, amazed that he was having a conversation about ghosts with two members of his team on a Sunday afternoon. And to think he was missing the snooker for this!

  With Matt now quiet, Harry said, ‘And just out of interest, at what point does a house become too haunted? Is one ghost fine, two bearable, but three or more simply not on?’

  Jadyn was sitting down now and leaning forward, his eyes focused on Matt. ‘So, this ghost then,’ he said. ‘What was it? What did it do? Has anyone ever seen it? Have you seen it? I bet you have, haven’t you? I can see it your eyes! What was it like? I’d love to see a ghost! That would be epic!’

  Harry shushed Jadyn’s rapid-fire questions with a stare.

  ‘What I know is this,’ Matt said, and Harry noticed how the detective sergeant dropped his voice and leaned forward, resting one of his huge hands down on a nearby table. ‘The ghost itself is that of a headless woman.’

  ‘No way!’ Jadyn said, eyes wide. ‘That’s amazing!’

  ‘It’s bollocks is what it is,’ Harry said. ‘Complete and utter bollocks.’

  ‘I don’t know when it happened exactly,’ Matt continued, ‘but it was in the eighteen hundreds I think. You know, the nineteenth century?’

  ‘I do know when the eighteen hundreds was,’ Harry said. ‘And no, not because that’s how old I am,’ he added, having guessed that the look in Jadyn’s eye was enough evidence that such a suggestion was very close to tripping off his tongue.

  ‘The hauntings got really, really bad in some of the rooms,’ Matt explained. ‘Most of the house was okay, like, but in this one section, it was awful. Really, properly bad. The woman, well, was seen everywhere, and the disturbances just became too much for the people who lived there.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ Jadyn asked. ‘Did someone get possessed?’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Harry said. ‘The Wensleydale version of The Exorcist! Let me guess, they called in a priest who then went mad, or threw himself out of a window, is that right?’

  ‘You’ve not seen The Exorcist, have you?’ Matt said, looking to Harry.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Harry replied. ‘But I’d guess that it’s just as daft as this yarn you’re spinning right now.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Matt continued, turning back to Jadyn, ‘the owners eventually decided that enough was enough. So, in the end, they decided that the only solution was to tear down the haunted rooms, and that’s why the house looks the way it does now.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve seen it,’ Jadyn said. ‘It looks well creepy, like, doesn’t it?’

  ‘But,’ said Matt, ‘they do say . . .’

  He trailed off and Harry watched as Jadyn leaned even closer.

  ‘What do they say?’ Jadyn asked. ‘What?’

  ‘Well,’ Matt said, ‘sometimes when the moon is full, and when the sky is particularly clear, if you stand in the place where the old rooms once were, where me and the DCI here walked just a couple of nights ago now, you’ll see . . .’

  ‘See what?’ Jadyn said. ‘What will I see?’

  The room was silent, Jadyn and Harry now both leaning in to hear Matt finish his story.

  ‘You really want to know?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Of course, I want to know!’ Jadyn said. ‘This is brilliant! What will I see?’

  Without warning, Matt brought down his huge hand in a mighty slap on the top of the table at his side. The sound cracked the silence in two with the sound of a scaffold plank snapping in half, and although Harry flinched, it was nothing compared with what happened to Jadyn, who leapt into the air, knocked his chair over, then stumbled backwards to land on the floor on his backside.

  ‘You evil sod!’ Jadyn said, pushing himself back up to his feet.

  By the time he was there, Matt was wiping tears from his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but laugh himself.

  ‘You walked right into that,’ Harry said. ‘Well told, Detective Sergeant. Well told, indeed.’

  ‘It’s true, mind,’ said Matt, still chuckling. ‘That really is the reason why the house was split in two. A group of paranormal investigators went up there a few years back, said they recorded lots of evidence. And the folk who were at the house before the colonel, they refused to go out at night into the section between the main house and the cottage.’

  ‘But you were there on Thursday,’ Jadyn said. ‘What was it like? Could you sense anything? Was it really creepy?’

  Harry thought back to when he had taken that short stroll between the houses. He remembered the thick darkness and the almost oppressive atmosphere of the place. But how could it be anything else, he thought, with those walls looming overhead, and the night having been as black as pitch?

  Harry decided to not answer Jadyn’s question, checked the time and saw that the end of the day was gathering pace. ‘Well,’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘fun and exciting though this is, I’m not entirely sure tracking down and arresting ghosts is in my remit as a DCI.’

  ‘Heading back home, Boss?’ Matt asked.

  At the door to the office, Harry paused and turned back to look at his team. ‘I’ll be giving Jim a ring in a bit. I’ll let you know how he is, how his dad is.’

  ‘And I’ll tell everyone else, no bother,’ Matt said.

  With nothing left to s
ay, Harry walked out into the damp, late afternoon air, the only thought on his mind being what he and Ben were going to have for dinner. And that alone was enough to crease his damaged face with a smile.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday was always busy in Hawes, what with it being market day, and Detective Inspector Gordanian Haig was very happy indeed to be there. She didn’t get up dale as often as she would like to, but when she did, this was absolutely her favourite time of the week to do so. And thanks to a call from Harry late on Sunday afternoon, she’d headed over.

  ‘So, nothing from forensics, then?’

  ‘Sod all, actually,’ Harry had said, and she’d heard the frustration in his voice. ‘Posh cigarettes and some tyre tracks. Not exactly much to be going on with, is it? And although I know that there’s every chance those poor animals have been shipped off to some disused warehouse somewhere to be killed and cut up and shipped off to who knows where, I don’t want to be giving up on it.’

  ‘That’s not really in your nature now, is it?’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Harry had said. ‘And this is closer to home as well, with it being Jim’s family’s farm.’

  Gordy had things to be getting on with, but part of being in the police force was learning to juggle. So, she’d said, ‘And you’re phoning me because you have a plan?’

  ‘A plan is a grand term for this.’ Harry had sighed. ‘But my view is that if a gang has been over here and done this, then it’s likely that they’ve done so because they’ve been keeping an eye on what goes on around here, seen it as easy pickings, and swooped in. And that, Detective Inspector, pisses me right off.’

  ‘A lot of things seem to do that,’ Gordy had said, a laugh curling the edges of her words.

  ‘We’ve already been around to the farms,’ Harry had explained, ‘just to show our faces, that kind of thing. But I’m thinking the auction mart is where I’d be, if I was this gang, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do,’ Gordy had agreed. ‘You think they’re recceing stock there, do you?’

  ‘Not just stock, but farmers,’ Harry had said. ‘No point turning up to try and nick a couple of truck-loads of animals, if the farm is difficult to get to, actually has some kind of security in place, dogs or what have you–’