Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5)

by David J Gatward

  ‘Probably best if you just tell us what happened in your own words,’ the detective said.

  ‘How do you mean?’ Dan asked. ‘Tell you about what exactly? So much has been going on, hasn’t it? What with Helen’s death, James seeing things, that thing last night, the fire.’

  Dan was sure that he could see cogs moving behind the detective’s eyes.

  ‘You came over here last week, is that right?’ the detective asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Dan said. ‘As soon as we could. I was away on business, you see.’

  ‘Doing what?’ the constable asked and Dan noticed how the young man was busy jotting notes down as they spoke.

  ‘Property development,’ Dan said. ‘But it’s not always the money-spinner everyone thinks it is.’

  ‘So, you flip houses?’ the constable asked.

  ‘Not just houses,’ Dan answered. ‘Property in general. It’s been a bit tough lately, with a few large projects not exactly going to plan, cashflow issues, that kind of thing, but that’s business, right?’

  God, what was he saying! They don’t want to know about any of that! And he absolutely didn’t want to be telling them any of it, or indeed anyone else, did he? Even Patricia didn’t know! Cashflow issues? Now that was a massive understatement, wasn’t it? And Patricia thought she had problems from when her last venture had gone wrong! She hadn’t the faintest idea, which was probably for the best. Yes, there was probably a very good argument for them sharing more with each other, being honest, but that just wasn’t them, was it? They were private people, even with each other, and he’d been away because he’d had to try and sort things out.

  ‘So, you’re both self-employed,’ the detective stated.

  ‘Yes,’ Dan said. ‘It comes with its own challenges, and it’s certainly risky, as I’m sure Patricia told you, but better that than working for someone else and putting money in their pocket instead of my own.’

  The detective then asked about how James had seemed to him since the accident.

  ‘Not great,’ Dan said. ‘But that’s not a surprise really, is it? The accident was terrible. It’s no wonder he was a bit off.’

  ‘What do you mean by a bit off?’

  ‘Well, all that stuff about seeing Helen around the place. I think it was just emotional exhaustion or something, his mind showing him what he wanted to see, which was Helen around the place, that’s all.’

  ‘So, you don’t think there was an intruder?’

  ‘No, of course, I don’t,’ Dan said, and then something just popped into his head. ‘I think a big part of it is that Ruth and Patricia, even Anthony, well they all look so similar, like Helen, don’t they? You must have noticed. And I reckon he just saw them around the place and his mind was turning them into Helen. That’s it. That’s all it was.’

  ‘And what about the séance?’ the detective asked.

  Dan shook his head and laughed, then realised just how wrong it sounded, how it was the most inappropriate thing to do, the sound cold and broken like a glass smashed on concrete, and he quickly shut it down.

  ‘It was ridiculous,’ he said, forcing his voice back to being serious. ‘A séance? I mean, have you ever heard of anything so completely stupid in your life, contacting the dead?’

  The detective didn’t answer and instead asked, ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

  Dan thought back to the evening before, to when that medium, that Beverly Sanford woman had turned up, and what had happened after.

  ‘It was all going fine,’ Dan said, ‘and it was a bit of fun I suppose, not that I was taking it seriously, but I was happy to support James if that’s what he wanted to do, not that Patricia approved though. But then the tapping at the window started.’

  ‘And what did that sound like?’ the detective asked.

  ‘Like something tapping at the window,’ Dan said with a shrug. ‘How else would it sound?’

  ‘Can you describe it?’

  Dan knew he was pulling a face at the detective, one that said why, what’s the point?

  ‘Was it a regular tap-tap-tap,’ the detective clarified, ‘or was it more irregular?’

  ‘Oh, it was a tap-tap-tap,’ Dan said, then tapped his finger on the table. ‘Yeah, like that. And then the woman, she started speaking in a really weird voice, which was very creepy. Then there was more tapping and by that point, everyone was getting a bit jumpy, to say the least, and I’d certainly had enough, so I went to the window to see who was out there and—’

  ‘Did you see anyone?’

  ‘Not a soul,’ Dan replied. ‘I even went outside to check. Took my torch as well, and it didn’t pick anything out at all, and that thing can pick out a fly on a cow’s arse a mile away, I’m sure. So, whoever was out there, they must’ve run off sharpish. Good job, too, because if I’d gotten my hands on them . . .’

  Dan felt an adrenaline surge as he spoke, but knew that actually, deep down, he was pleased he hadn’t found anyone outside, because what would he have done, really? Nothing at all most likely.

  ‘What about the fire?’ the constable asked.

  ‘Pat woke me,’ Dan said. ‘I was absolutely out for the count. Anyway, she shakes me awake and I can smell the smoke. And, well, you know the rest.’

  ‘Did you see James go to the cabin?’ the detective asked.

  ‘No,’ Dan said. ‘I went to bed. Took my tablets and that was me out.’

  ‘Tablets?’ the constable asked.

  ‘Statins and aspirin,’ Dan said. ‘I’m young for them, I know, but heart disease runs in the family so it’s a precautionary thing. Took a while to get the right ones. Some give you the worst headaches.’

  ‘What about sleeping tablets?’ the detective asked.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Do you take them?’

  ‘I used to,’ Dan said, immediately wondering then why he was being asked about something no one knew about. ‘I still do now and again, it depends. Why?’

  ‘So, you have them with you?’ the detective said.

  ‘That’s correct,’ Dan replied. ‘Started in my teens with bouts of insomnia. Continued through college and out the other side. Then I met Pat and for whatever reason, it got a little bit better. Love, right? So now, it’s only now and again.’

  ‘And you carry them with you?’ the constable asked.

  ‘Always have them to hand,’ Dan said.

  ‘What are they called?’

  Dan had blurted out the name of the tablets before he’d even wondered why they were so interested in them.

  For a moment, the detective and the constable sat in silence, each checking through the notes the constable had taken.

  ‘Right then,’ the detective said, rising to his feet, ‘would you be able to show me where you heard this knocking sound at the window?’

  ‘Of course,’ Dan said, and with that, he stood up and led the detective and the constable through to the lounge.

  ‘So, which window was it?’ Harry asked, now standing in the lounge. ‘The one you heard the knocking at?’

  Harry had never had to investigate the possible source of supposed ghostly rappings, so this was a first. Though the house suited it, he thought, and he found himself easily imagining the stories being told about the place over the decades, of strange noises from the attic, odd shadows seen on gloomy evenings, whisperings in the dark. But how any of that, of what Matt had told him, tied into what had happened, he hadn’t the faintest idea at all, but it was his job to investigate, so that’s what he was going to do.

  ‘That one,’ Dan said, pointing, and Harry followed over to stand at the window.

  Beyond the glass, Harry stared out onto a well-manicured lawn, a silent army of trees beyond it, and further still, the distant hills of the dales, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was being watched. Not necessarily by a person, but by the very landscape itself, like it knew something that he didn’t about what had gone on, and other things, too, darker events, held hidden by th
e silence and darkness of time.

  ‘Something definitely tapped against the window,’ Dan said. ‘I mean, it could’ve been a bird I suppose, but that just seems like too much of a coincidence, doesn’t it?’

  ‘And you didn’t see anyone at all out there?’ Harry asked. ‘Not a movement or anything? Something that you thought looked a bit strange?’

  ‘Nope, not a thing,’ Dan replied. ‘It was dark, so there was no chance anyway, but I still went outside for a look. Seemed the sensible thing to do.’

  Harry understood people’s urge to go and look for an intruder when they heard a noise, that urge to protect what was theirs, their property, their family. But it didn’t always end up well for those involved, did it?

  ‘Right, best I go have a look outside then,’ Harry said, and he left the room and headed through the house and round to the door leading out to the front. Outside, in the grey light of day, with the wind bringing with it a chill both dry and sharp, Harry marched across the lawn, the house on his left. The road was at the bottom of the property, trees were in front of him. If there had been someone here, then it wasn’t just a question of where they went, but how did they get here in the first place? He supposed that the medium could have dropped them off to hide in the woods on the way, but that was showing just a little too much dedication to the art of faking it, he thought. Because it had been a cold night, and hiding out in the dark woods, waiting to sneak over to tap a window? In his time, Harry had done more than his fair share of sneaking around in the dark, and he knew just how miserable it could be.

  Walking over to the house, Harry came up to the window and stared in, seeing Dan and Jadyn on the other side. The constable, on seeing Harry, smiled and waved. Ignoring him, Harry had a look around beneath the window for some sign that someone had been there the night before. But there were no footprints, no damaged plants, nothing. So just what had caused the tapping?

  Harry sighed and strode back into the house, making sure to wipe his shoes clean of any dirt first.

  ‘Did you see anything?’ Dan asked as Harry entered the lounge.

  Harry shook his head and went back to the windows once more. ‘And you’re sure it was from this window you heard the knocking?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Dan said. ‘But I’ve no idea what it was. It really spooked us all, that’s for sure.’

  Harry shook his head, doing his best to try and dislodge anything in his mind which might be of help. But with nothing coming loose, he turned away from the window, except as he did so he caught sight of something. At first, he thought it was little more than the thin thread of a spider’s web, and he was about to ignore it, when something scratched at the back of his mind and he leaned in for a closer look.

  ‘You found something, Boss?’ Jadyn asked.

  Harry didn’t answer as his face came to a stop just millimetres from the latch holding the windows closed. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t a spider’s thread, he realised, not unless spiders had grown particularly clever and taken to tying knots.

  Harry dipped a hand into a pocket and pulled out an evidence bag.

  ‘Constable, would you mind just nipping through to the kitchen to fetch a pair of scissors for me, please? I’m sure there’s a pair in a drawer somewhere.’

  ‘What have you found?’ Dan asked as Jadyn jogged out of the room, but Harry ignored him and dropped his eyes, which was when something else caught his eye, sitting in the thick pile carpet beneath the window. He dropped to his knees and lowered his face to the floor.

  ‘Everything okay, Boss? I mean, I’m sure praying on the job is fine, but I’ll be honest, I’m surprised to find you doing it.’

  Harry heard his detective sergeant’s voice. ‘You got a pair of tweezers or a penknife handy?’ he asked.

  ‘Always,’ Matt said and Harry heard the man walk over, then saw a hand appear beside his face, a Swiss Army knife clutched in its fingers.

  Harry took the knife and removed the tweezers from the handle as Jadyn entered the room and came over with the scissors. The thing in the carpet Harry was able to tease free, clamping it in the tweezers and then slipping it into the evidence bag. Then he was on his feet and back at the window.

  ‘What do you think this is?’ he asked, handing the evidence bag to Matt, and taking the scissors from Constable Okri while pulling another evidence bag from his pocket and turning back to the window. He then snipped the thread, which was tied around the window latch and hanging down about six inches against the glass, and dropped it into the second bag. ‘And this,’ he said, handing it to Matt.

  Matt stared at both bags and Jadyn leaned in for a closer look.

  ‘This one,’ Matt said, holding up the first bag, ‘is a fishing weight. And I know that because of a childhood spent trying to clip the fiddly little buggers to my line, fishing on various becks, and catching nowt. I’m not a very good fisherman, you see. I mean, I’m a patient man, like, but fishing? Drove me mad!’

  ‘And that’s fishing line,’ Jadyn said, looking at the other bag. ‘Dad’s a fisherman. A good one, too.’

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Hurst?’

  ‘Yes?’ Dan said, coming over to join Harry, Matt, and Jadyn.

  ‘Do you recognise either of these items?’

  Dan leaned in. ‘No,’ he said. ‘What are they anyway?’

  ‘You didn’t see them last night?’

  ‘Should I have?’

  Harry took the bags from Matt then scratched his head, turning around to hold the bags up to the light coming in through the window, only as he did so, they knocked against the glass.

  ‘What was that?’ Dan asked.

  ‘What was what?’ Harry asked.

  ‘That sound,’ Dan said. ‘Just then. That tap. It wasn’t just me that heard it, was it?’

  Harry looked from Dan to the bags in his hand then swung them gently against the window. A tap sounded, dulled by the plastic bag a little. ‘You mean that sound?’

  ‘Yes, exactly that,’ Dan explained. ‘That tap. It’s the same as the one last night. The one we all heard at the séance.’

  Harry stared at the bags in his hand, up at the window again, then thought about everything he’d heard that morning.

  ‘Matt?’

  ‘Yes, Boss?’

  ‘How do you fancy us both going to have a little chat with a spiritualist medium, then?’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was now the afternoon and Matt had driven Harry out to the small market town of Sedbergh. He had the rest of the team set to various other tasks, to try and pick apart as much as they could about not only what had happened, but about the only possible suspects that they had, those being James’ daughters, Ruth and Patricia, and Patricia’s husband, Dan. And that would involve finding out more about their backgrounds, their work, anything that might be of help.

  Harry had also sent a message to Rebecca Sowerby with the name of the tablets that Dan mentioned. As yet, he’d heard nothing back. And Jim was going to be having a chat with Ruth’s son, Anthony, once he returned from school. And of course, there was also the whole sheep rustling thing and to avoid it being lost in the work being done on the death of James Fletcher, Harry had the ever-keen Jadyn working on it, doing another drive around various farms, and even though it was a desperate move, checking up on the small collection of cigarette butts from the auction mart they’d sent off to forensics.

  A couple of miles further, after they’d crossed over a river, he’d taken a right down a thin lane until they’d passed an old railway viaduct. A mile or so further, and a small cottage had come into view and Matt had pulled them through the open gate and onto a small gravel drive. The house, Harry noted, was a small farm cottage, with a slate roof, and a garden not so much overgrown as allowed to run wild, but within reason, as though the owner did just enough to keep it in check, but not enough to make it look controlled. This was the garden of someone who clearly relished freedom though, but what that told Harry about the woman they were
about to meet he wasn’t exactly sure.

  ‘Nice little place,’ Matt said, leaning over the steering wheel to glance up at the cottage. ‘Converted barn by the looks of things.’

  Harry climbed out of the car, hunching his coat up against the cold. ‘Looks a bit quiet, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does that,’ Matt agreed.

  ‘And we’re sure Jadyn called ahead?’

  ‘I was there when he did it,’ Matt said. ‘Very polite he was and didn’t give anything away.’

  ‘So, as far as she’s concerned, we’re visiting about booking her,’ Harry said. ‘I just don’t like turning up at quiet houses. Always makes me think something’s not quite right.’

  ‘A naturally suspicious nature.’

  ‘Something like that, yes.’

  Harry stepped away from the car and walked over to the front door of the cottage. There was no electric buzzer that he could see so he rapped his knuckle against the wood. The sound echoed inside the house.

  ‘Shall I go check round the back?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Might be a good idea,’ Harry said, knocking again, but as Matt set off to head through a side gate, there was a sound of a chain being rattled on the other side of the door.

  Harry stepped back so as to avoid being completely in the face of the owner.

  The door opened and Harry found himself staring down into the face of a woman he guessed to be at least eighty years old, with bright, piercing eyes and a warm smile.