Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5)

by David J Gatward

  Jadyn said, ‘But haven’t we done all this already? We’ve all been out and around the farms since it happened. So, what are we hoping we’ll find here?’

  ‘Just keep your eyes open,’ Harry said. ‘Yes, we’ve been out, and that’s good, but that doesn’t mean we’re done, now, does it? Not in the slightest, actually. Seeing us up at the mart, well that’ll certainly reassure people that we’re around for a start, because I’m pretty sure that one flock being taken is more than enough to get the whole dale worried. Am I right, Jim?’

  ‘You are that,’ Jim said. ‘And I know that they shouldn’t be, but I’m pretty sure there’s a few out there now who’ve taken to late-night walks around their fields with a gun. They’ll say they’re out lamping, after a few rabbits, but they’re not. They’re scared. And who can blame them?’

  ‘And while we’re up there,’ Gordy said, turning an eye to Jadyn, ‘use this as an opportunity to find out more about farming. Because let’s face it, you’re not exactly clued up on it, and it’s kind of the main thing in Wensleydale.’

  ‘I know more than our DCI does,’ Jadyn said.

  ‘Watch it,’ Harry said. ‘I know what a tup and ewe is now, don’t I? Before you know it, I’ll be telling you what breeds they are and whatever else you need to know about sheep. Which I’m sure is a lot.’

  A few minutes later, they made to cross over the road, when a shout pulled them up short. Jim turned around to see a man coming out of a garden gate to meet them.

  ‘Hello, Reverend,’ Jim said.

  ‘Good to see you, Jim,’ the man replied, then he looked over at Harry. ‘We’ve met,’ he said, ‘but I’ve a feeling we’ve both been too busy to make it more than that.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Mike Rawlings, the Methodist Minister.’

  Harry shook the man’s hand. ‘Most vicars I know are old and grey,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’m not a vicar for a start,’ Mike smiled.

  ‘And where’s your dog collar?’

  ‘On the dog,’ Mike replied. ‘Can’t stand the thing. I wear it for official stuff, and if folk want me to, but generally I leave it at home.’

  ‘Is there something we can help you with?’ Jim asked.

  ‘You off to the mart?’ Mike asked. ‘I’ll be heading over myself, later. Highlight of my week. Make sure I never miss it.’

  ‘We are,’ Jim said.

  ‘After what happened, we’re just going to show a bit of police presence, that kind of thing,’ Harry said.

  ‘That’ll reassure folk, I’m sure,’ Mike said. ‘After what happened with your dad’s flock, Jim, people are jumpy.’

  Harry leaned in. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about what happened?’

  Mike shook his head. ‘Sorry, no. But if I do hear something, I’ll let you know straight away. But it’s not that I was coming over for. It’s about James Fletcher.’

  ‘Liz and Jen are over there now,’ Jim said. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Mike quickly told them about a number of phone calls he’d had with James since the crash. ‘I visited right away, and obviously, there was the trauma they were dealing with, but since then, these calls? Something’s not right.’

  ‘You mean how he’s seeing his wife around the place?’ Harry said.

  ‘I know he called you out last week, and he’s done it again?’

  ‘Just this morning,’ Jim said.

  Mike fell quiet.

  Harry asked, ‘Something bothering you, Rev?’

  ‘James is, or was, a sensible man,’ Mike said. ‘He wouldn’t be reporting stuff, calling you, if he wasn’t seeing something. I’m doing my best to keep him focused, to think things through, but this? Well, I just think there’s more to it, that’s all.’

  ‘You want us to take it seriously, is that what you’re saying?’ Gordy asked.

  ‘I do,’ Mike said. ‘What happened, it was awful, and James is really going through it. But this worries me. I know I’m being vague, and really, I had no idea what I was going to say to you when I saw you, but I thought I’d best just mention it anyway.’

  Harry handed Mike his card.

  ‘Call me if you need to,’ he said. ‘And it’s good to know we’ve not just got another pair of eyes on the mart here and what happened at Jim’s place, but over at the Fletcher’s too. Much appreciated.’

  Mike stepped back. ‘Well, I’ll let you get on. I’m actually thinking of buying myself a few pet lambs next year, Jim, so I’ll need your advice on that.’

  ‘Pet lambs?’ Harry said. ‘Who the hell keeps a lamb as a pet?’

  ‘No one does,’ Jim laughed. ‘It’s the lambs that are spare, like, where we have triplets and the mum can only look after two, or the mum dies during the birth or just rejects her lambs. If we can’t get another ewe to take them, then they get sold.’

  ‘I knew that,’ Jadyn said, with a knowing nod.

  ‘You’re a terrible liar,’ said Harry. ‘Anyway, thanks Mike, and good to meet you.’

  ‘I’ll give you a call,’ Mike said, holding up Harry’s card. ‘Go for a pint some time. If you’re going to stay around, then I’m sure I can give you a good insight into the local community.’

  ‘Of course, he’s staying!’ Gordy smiled. ‘I don’t think any of us can imagine the place without him now.’

  As they turned to cover the final few steps over to the mart, Harry called out, ‘Look, you go on and I’ll catch up. I’ve a phone call to make.’

  ‘Well, don’t be long,’ Gordy said.

  As they walked off, Jim glanced back at his boss and couldn’t help but hope that Gordy was right and that Harry was going to be staying around. It wasn’t just that they needed him, but that despite his gruff nature and occasional short temper, they liked him. And that, Jim thought, was worth more than gold.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liz was now sitting in a rather old-fashioned farmhouse-style kitchen and nursing a large mug of steaming hot tea. Jen was busy doing a sweep of the house to check windows and the like, and to make sure that the house was as secure as it could be. They had both been rather surprised to discover that such a large and impressive house had no high-end security system installed. Indeed, when they had asked to check it, James had laughed at them, said something about how no security system in the world could be a match for his years of military training, and then taken Jen off for a guided tour.

  ‘I’m sorry about my dad,’ Ruth said, sitting down opposite Liz. ‘He takes a lot of getting used to. By which I mean, never. I mean, he’s absolutely lovely, but right now, I don’t know what’s going on with him at all.’

  Liz kept her response non-committal. ‘I’m really sorry about your mum,’ she said. ‘Must be very hard for you.’

  Ruth nodded and Liz saw the pain in the woman’s eyes and the effort she was having to put into not breaking down. She was also still struck by how similar she looked to her mum.

  ‘It was a shock for us all,’ she said. ‘Mum was a wonderful woman.’

  ‘She looked very happy in the photos,’ Liz said.

  Ruth just smiled but said nothing more.

  ‘You live with your son, next door,’ Liz said.

  ‘Yes,’ Ruth replied.

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Sixteen,’ Ruth said, then pulled out her phone and flicked the screen round to Liz. ‘There he is.’

  Liz glanced at the screen to see a pale-faced boy smiling through long black hair. He was wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt. But what Liz noticed most of all was, once again, that striking family resemblance.

  ‘I like his style,’ Liz said. ‘Good taste in music.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ruth nodded. ‘He’s a good lad.’

  Liz heard something in Ruth’s voice, something hidden, but wasn’t exactly sure what. ‘And he’s at school, yes?’ she asked.

  Another nod, though with more hesitation.

  ‘And he’s getting on alright, is he?’

  ‘On and off,’ Ruth said. ‘But then
who’s really ever truly happy at school? Like most teenager boys I think he’d rather be listening to music and playing Call of Duty.’

  Liz took a sip of her tea wondering not only about what Ruth was hiding behind her words but also if it was relevant. And she was getting hungry now as well, but no biscuits were on offer, so she’d have to ignore that till they were back in Hawes.

  ‘When we were back in the study,’ Liz began, not really knowing quite how to approach what had happened after Ruth had entered the room. ‘You seemed to suggest that—’

  ‘That my dad is seeing things?’ Ruth said, finishing off what Liz was going to ask. ‘Of course, he is! You saw the whisky glass in his hand, right? It’s only a week since we lost Mum and he’s not dealing with it well. Not that he will admit that, of course. No, not Dad. That would be . . .’ She paused, staring off into the corner of the room for a moment, as though searching for what to say next. ‘He’s just a bit stubborn,’ she finally said. ‘But this whole thing with seeing an intruder that he thinks is Mum? It’s really not like him at all. I don’t understand any of it.’

  Liz sat back in her chair. ‘Has this happened a lot then, since the accident?’ she asked. ‘You know, your dad seeing your mum?’

  Liz watched as Ruth searched for what to say next, casting her eyes around the room as though trying to find the words behind the pictures on the wall.

  ‘He’s been talking about some strange stuff,’ Ruth said eventually, and Liz could tell that she was struggling with the words. ‘No, this sounds insane, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Actually, it does,’ Liz said. ‘Your dad is clearly in a bad place, you all are, I know, but if he’s seeing things and then calling us? We need to be aware of it. This is the second time now that we’ve come out, and we can’t just keep doing so if there’s nothing here. That doesn’t mean we can’t help, though, it’s just a case of resources really.’

  ‘I know,’ Ruth said.

  ‘It sounds cruel,’ Liz continued, ‘but it’s not. In fact, we’re here right now because we’re concerned and we need to make sure that things are okay, that he’s safe, I suppose.’

  ‘Safe?’

  ‘People suffering trauma can react in different ways,’ Liz said. ‘Wander off, disappear, behave really out of character. We don’t want him to come to any harm.’

  ‘No, I get that,’ Ruth said. ‘I really do, and it’s appreciated, and I promise you won’t get any more calls. I can’t allow this to happen again. It’s not on.’

  ‘You said that he’s been talking about something strange or odd?’ Liz asked. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘A few days ago he started asking me about the afterlife,’ Ruth said. ‘Death, and if we exist beyond it. I didn’t think much of it, but he kept coming back to it, saying that he wanted to see Mum again, that he even speaks to her.’

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s understandable,’ Liz said. ‘Just needs a bit of reassurance.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s gone a bit further than that,’ Ruth said. ‘He wants proof. He wants to know where she is and that she’s okay. It’s because he blames himself, says he should have been driving.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s all part of how he’s dealing with it,’ Liz suggested, wondering now where the conversation was going, because wherever that was, none of what they were talking about now was what she had been expecting. A cup of tea and a bit of a listening ear, sure, but this? Well, it did sound a little bit out there. ‘Why does he say he should have been driving?’

  ‘It was his birthday and Mum drove so he could have a drink, but she really doesn’t like driving at night, never has.’

  ‘Why?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘Honestly, I always thought she was making it up, but she always said she couldn’t see very well at night, like her eyes just didn’t focus properly or something.’

  ‘Well, that’s a thing, you know,’ Liz said. ‘Some people do suffer from night blindness. There’s a posh name for it but I can’t remember what it is.’

  ‘Well, there was nothing wrong with her eyes, nothing serious anyway, but she was always a bit clumsy, walking into stuff in the evening, shutting doors on herself.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s true,’ Ruth said, her voice momentarily lighter. ‘Even shut her head in a car door once! How is that even possible?’

  Ruth laughed then and Liz thought how perhaps this happy memory, however brief, might help the woman a little.

  ‘She even bought those night vision glasses,’ Ruth said. ‘You know, those massive, daft yellow things? Can’t see that they do anything other than make you look like a massive insect with these huge alien eyes staring out. She lost them anyway.’

  ‘So, this poor night vision was something that she had for years, then?’

  ‘I guess,’ Ruth said. ‘Maybe it was something, maybe it wasn’t, but she didn’t like driving at night, and if you were in the car with her when she was, and another car was coming the other way, she would always slow down, veer off a little away from it. It was never dangerous, just odd, like she’d just got used to being a bit scared of it all, driving in the dark, I mean.’

  ‘But she still did it?’

  ‘Only on special occasions,’ Ruth said. ‘Like Dad’s birthday. So, in some ways he’s probably right, you know? That she would be alive if he’d been driving. God, I feel awful thinking that. And now, with what Dad’s on about, it’s all just a bit too much.’

  Liz let Ruth sit quietly for a moment, before gently prodding her again. ‘You were saying how your dad was talking about death.’

  ‘So, at the weekend,’ Ruth said, raising her hands then as though talking to a crowd, ‘this woman turned up at the door. Beverley Sanford, she’s called.’

  ‘Can’t say that I’ve heard of her.’

  ‘She’s from up Sedbergh way,’ Ruth said. ‘Anyway, turns out that Dad had given her a call and asked her to come over.’

  ‘Is she an old friend?’ Liz asked.

  Ruth shook her head. ‘No, she’s a spiritualist or psychic medium or whatever it was she called herself.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Someone who can talk to the dead.’

  Liz had her mug of tea halfway to her mouth and that’s where it remained for a moment before she placed it back down on the table. When she next spoke she had to work hard to keep her voice measured, to make sure she didn’t sound like she was dismissing what Ruth had just told her.

  ‘And your father, he believes in this, does he?’

  ‘Well, he never used to!’ Ruth said. ‘Mum used to like going to church a bit now and again, but it wasn’t Dad’s thing, not unless it was something he could attach some military significance to. Remembrance Sunday is always a good excuse for him to get his uniform out. Takes that very seriously.’

  Liz wasn’t quite sure now what to do with what they were talking about. But she would keep Ruth occupied until Jen returned.

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘She was actually very nice,’ Ruth said. ‘Not that Patricia was having anything to do with it. But then, I don’t really know why she and Dan are here at all, to be honest.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ Liz asked.

  ‘She hardly ever visits,’ Ruth said. ‘And she’s not the best when it comes to dealing with emotional stuff. And now, here she is, well, here both of them are, and they’re staying for two months! It’s not like they even asked, they just phoned, told us that was what was happening, and here we are!’

  Liz sensed a little family tension.

  ‘It’s good to have family around though,’ she said.

  ‘Is it?’ Ruth replied. ‘They’re just worried Dad’s going to shuffle off this mortal coil and leave me more than them, that’s all. You’ve seen the place! It’s worth a packet.’

  This was now turning into a conversation that Liz really didn’t want to be getting pulled in to. So she said, ‘And you live next door, right? Looks lovely.’

  �
�It is,’ Ruth said. ‘Mum and Dad used to rent it out as a holiday home, but me and Anthony, we’ve lived there for years, since Anthony’s dad buggered off actually. I could move, but it’s so nice here.’

  For a moment, both women sat in silence. Liz didn’t really have much else to say, and she was silently hoping that Ruth was done. It had probably done her the world of good, Liz thought, to just get a few things off her chest. It wasn’t exactly in the job description, but she couldn’t help feel that this was a good deed done.

  ‘Do you think it’s something you ever get over?’ Ruth asked, finishing her tea. ‘Something like this? I don’t see how it’s possible. I really don’t.’

  ‘If it’s hard, then there’s support out there,’ Liz said. ‘But I think it’s probably not so much a case of getting over something, as it is a mix of acceptance and working out ways to live with it.’

  ‘Likes scars, you mean,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ Liz replied.

  ‘I’d like to think that’s possible,’ Ruth said. ‘But for Dad, I’m just not so sure. Mum died in his arms, you know?’

  ‘That’s awful,’ Liz said.

  ‘After the crash, he pulled her from the wreckage, just a split second before it burst into flames, apparently. And then she died while he was holding her. I can’t see him getting over that, can you? I don’t see how it’s possible. No wonder he’s always talking about it, about her, about wanting to see her again.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ Liz said and reached out a hand for Ruth’s. Then, as their hands touched, Ruth shuddered and a sob broke from her so heartfelt and full of pain and exhaustion that it was all Liz could do to remain in her seat.

  Liz said, ‘It’s a hugely traumatic experience. You need to be kind to yourself, to let yourself grieve. Look, there are support counsellors . . .’

  ‘I know,’ Ruth said. ‘But there’s only so much, you know?’

  ‘What about your dad?’

  At this, Ruth laughed. ‘Dad? Counselling? Can you imagine? No, he’s dealing with it in his own weird way, I think, by refusing all the sensible help, and instead, seeing things and trying to talk to ghosts!’