Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5)

by David J Gatward

  ‘Or geese.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Geese,’ Gordy had said. ‘Better than guard dogs, I promise you. My grandma worked a croft, just a couple of acres, and she always had geese. Angry wee bastards, they are. Hate people with a passion.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Harry had continued, ‘I’m thinking it might be clever, like, if we had you and me and some Uniforms up there, just mooching about. The Uniforms might put them on edge if they’re there, the gang I mean, and my face is well known, so that’ll get folk talking. You’ll just be in plain clothes, you’re not as obvious, and you can observe from afar, can’t you? You can also be a bit nosy, ask questions, get a feel for what’s going on, that kind of thing.’

  ‘You’re making it sound really sexy,’ Gordy had said. ‘Very Starsky and Hutch.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘No, not really.’ Gordy had laughed. ‘More like All Creatures Great and Small crossed with Columbo.’ Then she’d reminded him about the book she’d leant him.

  ‘I’ve finished it,’ Harry had said, and Gordy had heard the surprise in his voice. ‘Good, too, it was. Bit far-fetched, but that’s the point of fiction, isn’t it? Tell a tall tale. He could certainly spin a yarn, Charlie Baker, couldn’t he?’

  ‘And his sales will go crazy now, after what’s happened.’

  And on that note, they’d finished the conversation, agreeing that Gordy would be over to the action mart come Tuesday and take some of the team with her, at the same time pondering over the last case they’d dealt with, over in Coverdale, and the murder of the author, Charlie Baker.

  So, here she was, and having parked up in the marketplace, Gordy stepped out into crowds, the hustle and bustle already chasing its way through market stalls alive with activity and chatter and the delicious smells of street food. There was always a buzz to the place, Gordy thought, even on those days when the weather was positively apocalyptic, and it seemed to somehow not only bubble and spit with the modern-day, but also to echo of days long past. Markets were an ancient thing, and in Hawes, she figured little had changed over the years. It hardly needed to, either. Add to it the buying and selling of livestock going on at the other end of the town, which was where she would soon be heading, and the rich vibrancy of the place seemed to just reach out and grab you.

  The day was clear and cold, Gordy noticed, hunching her shoulders up a little against a sharp breeze. However, having grown up in the Highlands of Scotland, a chilly November day in the Yorkshire Dales wasn’t exactly something that had ever really bothered her. Try walking through Glencoe, when it’s blowing a hooley, she thought, particularly when the rain is cutting across in sheets thick enough to fell trees. And that was just the summer! Winters were something else entirely, the landscape bedecked in a veil of thick snow, beautiful and dangerous, calling out to the hearts of climbers and walkers. Each year, the winters up there would take a few more of lives, and yet still the adventurous would return. And Gordy would too, and soon, because she missed it, and always would. Though what work she’d find that way she had no idea. She’d been in the force a long time now, and as she’d just pipped past fifty, there was the temptation just to stay and see it through. But also, she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to life. Not that she didn’t like her job, hell, she loved it, but she’d never really been able to escape the haunting echo of home in her heart, and still she would find herself waking in the morning to the distant tune of a dream spent wandering through Glencoe.

  But now was not the time for such thoughts, so Gordy pushed them away and made her way over to the community office, smiling with affection at how this hub of local activity housed the police presence alongside a library and a post office. It wasn’t something she would say openly, but part of her believed that this was a much better way for the police to be seen, particularly in areas like this, where communities were small and rural life was a very distinct thing, separate and unique to that in more urban areas. Such notions brought back again her thoughts of the Highlands, and what she would do if she moved back, but she ignored them, and pushed her way into the rooms used by Detective Chief Inspector Harry Grimm and the rest of the team. The first thing to meet her was a torpedo of fur.

  ‘Well, hello there, Fly!’ Gordy said, dropping to her knees to give the dog a rub. He flipped over onto his back, its teeth bared. ‘Holding the fort again, I see, keeping everything running tickety-boo!’

  ‘He’s not in charge, but he certainly seems to think he is,’ Jim said. ‘Honestly, he’s more the team’s dog than mine now, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Not a bad thing,’ Gordy said, and hearing laughter looked up from Fly to see the other PCSO, Liz Coates, standing over at the kettle.

  ‘You’re early,’ Liz said. ‘I’m just getting a brew on. Fancy one?’

  Gordy rose to her feet, Fly slinking along after her, the sheen of his coat almost metallic.

  ‘No, I’m good,’ she said. ‘How’s everything here?’

  ‘Busy, with it being market day, like,’ Liz said. ‘Jadyn’s out doing a walk around. And I don’t know if anyone else has noticed this, but I swear, every Tuesday, he turns up with his uniform all properly smart, doesn’t he? It’s a shame it doesn’t come with lots of brass buttons, because he’d be all over those with a tin of Brasso and a rag!’

  Gordy had indeed noticed this and smiled. ‘He’s keen,’ she said. ‘Don’t knock it.’

  ‘And that’s why we love him,’ Liz said.

  ‘What about everyone else?’ Gordy asked.

  ‘Harry’s out for a coffee,’ Liz said. ‘Won’t be long, as he’s looking forward to heading up to the mart. He still tries to insist that tea isn’t his new favourite drink, but we don’t believe him, do we, Jim?’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ Jim said, shaking his head.

  ‘And Matt’s over at that little camp of protesters, just on the edge of town.’

  ‘Protesters?’ Gordy asked, casting a hook out into her memory, but unable to catch anything related to that word.

  ‘Richard Anderson’s place,’ Liz said. ‘You know, that businessman who walks around like he’s the king of the dales or something, all because he’s got a few bob in his pocket and found out that a distant relative of his came from Yorkshire!’

  ‘He’s what Matt would describe as a complete wassack,’ Jim said.

  ‘He’s all puffed-up chest and handshakes and smiles,’ Liz said. ‘Carries this big, brown leather file with him everywhere, just to make himself look important, I’m sure.’

  ‘Oh, right, that,’ Gordy said, still unsure.

  ‘They’ve been camped out on his land since spring,’ Jim explained, clearly picking up on her lack of recall, Gordy noticed, bless him. ‘He’s somehow managed to get planning permission to build on this lovely bit of land, and those protesters don’t think he should. And most of the locals would be agreeing with them, too, as it happens.’

  ‘And Matt’s headed out there, because?’ Gordy asked.

  ‘Anderson’s told them that he’s not going to build there now and wants them to leave. Unsurprisingly, they don’t think his word is a strong enough bond.’

  ‘Matt the diplomat,’ Gordy said. ‘Well, probably more sensible than sending Grimm!’

  As Liz and Jim laughed, the office door opened and in walked Police Constable Jenny Blades.

  ‘Right then, who’s not going out?’

  ‘Jim and me are due to head up to the auction mart with the DI, here, and Grimm when he gets back.’ Liz said. ‘Why, is something up?’

  ‘Not sure really,’ Jen said. ‘Mr Fletcher over at Black Moss House has reported another intruder.’

  ‘What, again?’ Jim said. ‘Seriously? Harry and Matt were over there last Thursday for the same thing. He was convinced that he’d seen his wife.’

  ‘How did he sound?’ Gordy asked, her ears picking up on this, remembering the contact she’d had with Mr Fletcher and his family after the awful crash that had claimed Mr Fletcher's wif
e, Helen, and what she’d then heard about Harry and Matt’s call-out the previous week.

  ‘I think it was his daughter called it in this time,’ Jen said. ‘But something’s not right, is it? Can’t be.’

  ‘No, you’re right, it’s not,’ Gordy said. ‘Can you tell them I’ll call them later, and pop in before the day’s out? Just to see if they need anything.’

  ‘Will do,’ Jen said, then glanced over at Liz and Jim. ‘So, you two both have something to be going on with. Which means I’ll be heading out there on my own, then.’

  ‘It’ll be nowt anyway,’ Jim said. ‘Just sounds like the poor old bloke’s not dealing well with the loss of his wife. And who can blame him? Right horrible, that.’

  ‘I think it best if PCSO Coates goes with you,’ Gordy said. ‘I’m sure I can persuade Constable Okri to step in instead.’

  ‘Neil’s joining us as well,’ Jim said.

  ‘Neil?’ Gordy asked.

  ‘My old mate,’ Jim explained. ‘The one I was out with Monday night, like. He wants to help seeing as I was out with him when it happened.’

  ‘We don’t know when it actually happened,’ Liz said.

  ‘I know,’ Jim said, ‘but I didn’t get back till late, did I? And I think Neil just feels a bit guilty. Anyway, an extra pair of eyes can only help, right? He’s meeting us up there.’

  Liz turned back to Jen and asked, ‘So, you driving?’

  ‘Of course!’ Jen grinned.

  Gordy put a hand on Liz’s shoulder as she prepared to leave. ‘I’ve seen Detective Constable Blades drive,’ she said. ‘I’ve even survived being a passenger with her a few times. You sure you’re ready for this?’

  Liz laughed. ‘I’m never anything else! Come on, then, Jen, let’s go and see if Mr Fletcher’s seen another ghost.’

  As Liz and Jen left, Gordy looked over at Jim and asked how his dad was doing.

  ‘He’s back home and under Mum’s watchful eye,’ Jim said. ‘Which means it was probably more relaxing for him in hospital, the poor bloke. Mum’s lovely, but she doesn’t half mither around given the chance, if you know what I mean. It can be a bit much to take sometimes, but it’s what he needs, so he’ll just have to get used to it.’

  Gordy laughed. ‘A very watchful eye, then.’

  ‘You could say that,’ Jim said, as the office door opened and in walked Police Constable Jadyn Okri.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ Gordy said.

  ‘And he shall appear,’ Jadyn finished, and Gordy heard excitement in his voice. ‘So, are you a Batman fan, then? Amazing! Because old Grimm hasn’t a clue.’

  ‘Batman?’ Gordy said, glancing over to Jim.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Jim said, holding up his hands. ‘I just work here.’

  ‘Constable Okri,’ Gordy said, turning back to Jadyn, ‘I must say that you’re looking particularly sharp today.’

  She watched as the young police constable visibly swelled with pride.

  ‘Thank you, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘Important to give the right impression I think.’

  ‘It is,’ Gordy smiled. ‘So, are you busy today? Lots to do?’

  Jadyn shook his head. ‘There’s always bits and bobs to do, yes, but if there’s something you need me on, then I’ll be all over it!’

  Gordy laughed. ‘Where do you get your enthusiasm from?’

  ‘My dad,’ Jadyn said. ‘He’s unbearable. The kind of man who gets excited about finding a packet of prawn cocktail crisps in the cupboard.’

  ‘That’s a very specific reference,’ Jim said.

  ‘My dad’s a very specific kind of man,’ Jadyn replied.

  Gordy said, ‘PCSO Metcalf here is going to accompany me to the auction mart. And I was wondering if you would like to come along?’

  ‘You think that’s where your dad’s sheep are?’ Jadyn asked, looking at Jim. ‘Is that it? Are we going to make an arrest?’

  ‘Bugger all chance of that, I reckon.’ Jim sighed.

  ‘But there’s always a chance we’ll hear or see something,’ Gordy said. ‘I had a chat with DCI Grimm, and he thinks a bit of police presence wouldn’t go amiss. I’m more than inclined to agree. And sometimes, that’s more than enough to spook someone into doing or saying something they shouldn’t, acting out of character, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Like at airports, you mean,’ Jadyn said.

  ‘How’s that then?’ Jim asked, clearly as baffled by the constable’s change of subject as Gordy herself.

  ‘You see, I’ve a mate whose dad works at Nottingham International,’ Jadyn explained, though Gordy wished that he wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to step in and quash the lad’s enthusiasm for sharing information. ‘When folk are queuing up and going through customs, and they pick people out at random to do a spot search, it’s not always because they think that person is actually carrying in something dodgy.’

  ‘Why do they do it, then?’ Jim asked.

  ‘They’re doing it to spook anyone in the queue who is,’ Jadyn said. ‘So, while they’re searching, they’re looking along for changes in behaviour, anything that might give someone away as not being quite right. Clever stuff, really. Psychological.’

  Gordy managed to hold in her chuckle as Jadyn tapped the side of his head to emphasise the word.

  ‘So, you going to join us, then?’ Gordy asked.

  ‘What about the office?’ Jadyn asked.

  ‘Matt will be back soon enough,’ Jim said.

  ‘Then yes,’ Jadyn said, and Gordy loved to see the excited glint in his eyes. ‘Are we going now?’

  ‘Unless there’s something else you have to do first?’ Gordy said.

  ‘Nope, not a thing!’ Jadyn said, and before Gordy could say anything else, the police constable was at the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Outside the community centre, and as Gordy, Jim, and Fly chased after Jadyn, Jen reversed to point the car up towards the primary school at the end of town. ‘I don’t think there’s anywhere I don’t know the way to around here,’ she said, pulling out onto the road. ‘Could pretty much navigate blindfolded.’

  ‘You and me both,’ Liz said. ‘Sometimes, I think the roads and lanes are more like my DNA than my actual DNA.’

  Jen laughed as she headed them out of Hawes and past the petrol station to follow the main road out. If they kept on, past their destination, it would eventually lead them to Sedbergh and on towards the Lake District. Liz hadn’t been out that way for a good while but had a mind to head over soon. The dales had its fells, and it was where her heart belonged, but the lakes ached with another kind of beauty. Jen knew it for the ultra-marathons and other races she would often head over to take part in, but for Liz, the roads and lanes were the best in the world for anyone on a motorbike, and they drew bikers from all over. The pubs were good, too, particularly the Golden Rule in Ambleside, a pub set in its own time, stoically refusing to bow to fashion or trend.

  The journey to Black Moss House wasn’t a long one, only a few miles really, but it wasn’t any less enjoyable for that. The road weaved itself between lush pastures, enclosed by drystone walls, and Liz wondered just how old the road really was, how many folk had made their way along it, transporting livestock, their families, between hill and fell and dale.

  The morning’s rain had eased again, though the clouds were still heavy and grey, threatening more to come. Puddles lay on the tarmac, their still, metallic surfaces like holes to another world.

  Arriving in Appersett, the village between Hawes and their destination, Jen eased off the accelerator.

  ‘Ex-boyfriend of mine lives here,’ she said, then pointed at a house on their left. ‘There, actually. At least he used to. Moved away.’

  ‘He liked you that much, then?’

  Jen laughed.

  ‘Lots of folk do,’ Liz said. ‘Job, was it?’

  ‘He worked at the creamery for a while,’ Jen said. ‘But then who hasn’t at some point, right? I had a job there for a while, but the s
mell, I just couldn’t handle it. Worse than cigarette smoke for getting into your clothes, your hair, on your skin. Anyway, as I was saying, he used to talk about Black Moss House.’

  ‘Everyone talks about Black Moss House.’ Liz laughed. ‘It’s a weird place, isn’t it?’

  Jen took them over the bridge and out of Appersett, the road following the River Ure on their left, the water rushing on in a tumble of white and grey, like wool tossed into a ravine.

  ‘Just another mile or so,’ she said. ‘You ever been? To the house, I mean?’

  ‘Never,’ Liz said. ‘It’s just one of those places you know about because you’ve driven past it so often. And there’s nowhere else looks quite like it, is there?’

  As she was speaking, the house came into view, just up on their right, the deep grey stone of its walls just visible between some sparse woodland, which grew thicker the further back it stretched up the hill.

  ‘There it is, then,’ Jen said. ‘It’s certainly impressive.’

  As they drove past, Liz ducked down a little to get a better view of the house through the windscreen. It was an imposing building, sat at the top of a large sloping lawn, the centre of it bowed out and flanked by two wings. Off to its left was a large gap, then another smaller house, which stood there as though shunned by its larger sibling.

  ‘Doesn’t exactly look cosy though, does it?’ Liz said, as Jen drove on past the house to then turn right and into a lane, which would lead them back to it.

  ‘Must be worth a fair bit,’ Jen said, as she rolled the car to a stop in the parking area at the back of the house. ‘So, who is it we’re seeing, then?’

  Liz was about to say, when a man emerged from a large door in the rear of the house. He was tall, Jen noted, and walked not just with purpose, but with bearing, his shoulders pulled back and his chin out, a stick at his side that seemed to be no hindrance at all to his speed.

  ‘He’s a retired colonel,’ Liz said, unclipping her seatbelt.

  ‘That would explain why he’s marching towards us, then,’ Jen said.