DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3

by Oliver Davies

  Keira sent me a half-smile before she nodded to herself. “This money was transferred to a company that apparently sells yachts. Considering the date,” She reached over to tap the paper with her baby pink nail, and I obediently looked down where she indicated, “I think it’s fairly unlikely that the Woodings were interested in buying yachts at that time.”

  I blinked down at the date for a minute, before releasing that it was the date of the Tuesday after Lawrence went missing.

  “Crikey,” I muttered. “So it was a ransom, most likely.”

  Keira gave me a sharp nod. “We’re looking into the company further but without much luck as yet.”

  “Ta, that would be great.”

  Stephen’s phone rang, and he patted his pockets and pulled it now. He frowned slightly at the name on the screen and shot Keira and me an apologetic look. “Sorry, got to take this,” he said, before heading off.

  I looked back towards Keira, feeling slightly edgy at being left alone with her.

  “We appreciate the help,” I said. “I did have another query, I’m sorry.”

  Her lips quirked upwards. They were painted a pretty coral pink today, and I looked quickly away.

  “It’s my job,” she said, sounding slightly amused. “What’s the query?”

  I rubbed my cheek. “Okay, so, the case we’re looking into, there’s a house that was where a kidnapping victim was found.” I was vague but probably unnecessary. It wasn’t as if York was a hub of kidnappings. If Keira searched the news for ‘local kidnapping’, the case would immediately turn up. But I doubted they’d released Lawrence’s name yet, since he was still legally a minor, and so I kept to non-specifics, as I was supposed to.

  “If we could find anything out about who owned the house who paid the bills, the taxes, anything like that, that would be a big help.”

  “Sounds doable. Have you got an address?”

  I hummed. “I’ll email it over to you?” I could remember most of it but not the postcode.

  Keira nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out for that.”

  I’d run out of things to say now that were related to the case and looked briefly away from her attractive, heart-shaped face. Normally I was much better at being professional at work, but I couldn’t help how my heart sped up when I saw her.

  I could control how I acted though, and worked to keep my voice even as I said, “Where did you transfer from?” I gathered up the folder on the table and avoided meeting her eyes for a moment.

  “You wouldn’t have heard of it,” she said, her light tone taking the edge off her words.

  I smiled slightly. “Try me.”

  “Helmswright.”

  I laughed quietly. “Aye, no, I haven’t heard of there, you’re right.”

  “I usually am,” she said, and I thought there was something in her gaze, a spark of interest.

  “I’m not surprised,” I said, looking back at her. She didn’t look away, and I was the one to drop my eyes first. “I know what it’s like to move to a city position-”

  “So I should come to you if I get stuck?” she said, eyebrows raised in challenge.

  “Er, no,” I managed, “I was going to sympathise. It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

  Keira hummed. “I haven’t found it too tricky yet.” Her mouth lifted up at the side.

  I couldn’t help but smile at her easy confidence. “That’s good. Stephen took the mickey out of me over it,” I nodded over to my partner, who was still on the phone, “but you’d probably handle that better than me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I couldn’t read her face and hoped I hadn’t offended her. “You seem like you’ve no trouble standing up for yourself,” I said carefully.

  “And does that bother you?” she said, definitely confrontational now.

  I blinked. “Not in the slightest,” I said honestly.

  Stephen approached us, and I realised that we had ended up standing close together. I took a step back. She was still looking at me, looking like she was assessing me.

  I pulled my gaze away from her and over to Stephen, who looked faintly confused to see us standing here in silence.

  “All okay?” I asked him. He made a noncommittal noise, and I frowned slightly. I glanced over to Keira and gave her a nod. “Ta for the help.”

  She nodded back, her eyes intense on mine. “I’ll inform you when we know more,” she told me, before turning on her heel and walking away.

  I looked over to Stephen and considered him with concern as we headed out into the corridor by silent agreement. “Mate, what’s wrong?” I asked him gently. “Who was the phone call from?”

  He sighed, his big shoulders drooping. “My missus,” he sighed. “My little girl is sick again.”

  His daughter had been badly ill back in the autumn, and though she’d gotten better since, Stephen had said she’d seemed tired and listless ever since.

  “Christ, I’m sorry,” I murmured. “The doctors found anything yet?”

  He shook his head, sitting heavily down in his desk chair when we reached it. “Mind if I head off early?” he asked.

  I bumped him lightly on the shoulder. “Of course I don’t,” I said softly. “Go on, go home. I’ll tell Gaskell.”

  He gave a tight nod, his face looking drawn with worry, before beginning to gather his things. He looked so different from his usual jovial self that it was painful to see and I watched him with a concerned frown.

  “Let me know if I can help, won’t you?” I said, as he pulled his coat on. “If you need me to go food shopping for you, or anything like that.”

  He sent me a grateful look. “Yeah, mate, thanks.”

  I sighed as he headed out and hoped that his daughter would be okay. I fetched myself a coffee, wanting a moment to myself before I went to speak to Gaskell. His office was occupied by the time I was ready to go in, so I settled into looking over the information Keira had supplied for us and writing it up in my report.

  Sedgwick headed out of Gaskell’s office; the first time I’d seen him in a while and I wondered what case he was on that was keeping him out of the station so much. Getting to my feet, I went to knock on Gaskell’s door and waited for him to call me in.

  He looked up at me as I entered. “What is it?” he said, blunt as usual. “A problem with the case? The kidnapping?”

  “No, that’s going alright, sir,” I said. “New information today, actually. But it’s not that. Ste- Huxley was called away. His daughter is ill.”

  “Again?” Gaskell said, not like he doubted it, but in concern. “Will she be alright?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “They don’t know, sir. The doctors are still trying to find a reason for it, Stephen told me.”

  Gaskell sighed, frowning. “I’m sorry to hear it. He knows he has my support to be with her, if he needs to.”

  I nodded in thanks. “I appreciate that, sir, and I know he does too.”

  Gaskell grunted. “And if you need a temporary partner, let me know.”

  I was silent a moment, taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might need someone else to step into Stephen’s shoes if he needed an extended period of leave.

  “I’ll bear that in mind, sir, thanks.”

  He focused back on his computer, and I saw myself out. Now that I’d been at Hewford station for half a year or thereabouts, I couldn’t imagine having a partner other than Stephen. Despite getting off to a slightly rocky start, I liked his company enough to consider him a friend, and he and I balanced each other out well. I tended more towards intense emotional reactions combined with a stubborn determination, with Stephen’s steady, light-hearted company tempering me. He was a good listener and a smart, funny bloke, and I knew he loved his family dearly.

  Whatever was best for his little girl, whatever would help her get better, I knew that Stephen would do everything in his power to care for her.

  Five

  I had been prepared to spend the following day alone, so it s
urprised me to come in to see Stephen at his desk.

  “You’re not needed at home?” I asked. I was fresh from the showers after my morning run, and my wet hair dripped down onto my shirt collar.

  He looked up. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he seemed less shaken than last night.

  “She’s at the hospital,” he said. “My wife wanted to be with her today and, well, there’s nothing I can do. She’s stable, and they’re running tests.”

  I sat down slowly, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. He sent me a weary smile.

  “Just sitting there all day would drive me nuts,” he said. “At least I’m actually useful here.” He glanced over towards Gaskell’s office. “I’ll ask the supe for tomorrow, though, so you’ll be on your lonesome then.”

  “I’ll miss you terribly,” I teased gently.

  He huffed. “Alright, what’s on the agenda today then?”

  He clearly didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and I rubbed my chin. “I thought it would be good to go for a visit up at the Wooding house. They’ve got quite a luxurious pad up in the Dales. Might be worth having a look round.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “A big house like that, they probably have a housekeeper,” I said. “I was planning to give them a heads-up that we’re coming over, so we don’t have to do any breaking the windows.” I sent Stephen a small smile to show I was joking.

  He got up out of his chair. “You can get on with that, then, and I’ll go and get some tea. God knows I need a cup.”

  He headed off to the breakroom, and I watched him go with a slight frown, concerned that he’d rather be at work than with his family. But, like me, he didn’t like to feel helpless and maybe working would help him stay steady and support his family better in the long run. But I would make sure that he took some time off to be with his daughter and wife, and his little boy too.

  I was right to assume that the Wooding family would have a housekeeper who promptly answered the phone once I tracked down the number.

  “I’m DCI Mitchell, and we’re looking into the disappearance of the Woodings. Would you be in the house later today, so we can have a look around?”

  She hummed. “Yes, my husband and I live on site. We’ll be available to answer the door all day. What time can we expect you?”

  I checked my watch. “I should think no later than twelve.”

  “Very good,” she said politely.

  Stephen came back with his soup-bowl-sized mug of tea, and a coffee for me. “Thanks, mate,” I said gratefully, breathing in the sharp-smelling steam and feeling more awake already.

  “Any success with the house?” Stephen asked.

  “Aye, we’ll head over as soon as we’re ready. It’s a bit of a drive. The housekeeper said she’ll let us in.”

  “Did you ask about security footage?”

  I grimaced. “No, I forgot about that. We’ll have to ask when we’re there.”

  “I wonder if the housekeeper knows anything about it,” Stephen mused. “I mean, I reckon she’d need to know the ins and outs of whatever they were up to, right? Like, to make sure the house is ready and there are canapes for the guests, or whatever it is rich people think they need these days.”

  I exhaled a laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll have a chat with her, see what she knows.”

  We finished up our drinks, the silence between us comfortable but weighted down with the knowledge of what was going on with Stephen’s family.

  Stephen tipped back the last of his tea. “Alright, I’m done.”

  I raised my eyebrows, honestly impressed that he’d managed to finish all that tea. “You’ll need a stop at the services after drinking that.”

  He grinned. “Probably, but it’s worth it. And don’t tell me you’re complaining about the opportunity for a trip to Costa?”

  We bickered lightly back and forth, keeping to light topics, as we headed downstairs and out to the station’s car park.

  “You want to drive, or shall I?”

  “I’ll drive there. You do the trip back?” I offered.

  “Good, I can have a nap,” Stephen said with an easy smile.

  We set off, my focus on navigating the post-rush hour traffic around York. I still had to pay close attention to my driving in the city after so long spent living in a small village where it was more important to look out for escaped sheep and horse riders than negotiating multi-lane roundabouts and buses swinging around the corner.

  Once we were out of the busier roads and heading out towards the Dales, I relaxed back into the driving seat and turned the radio up slightly. I couldn’t look too closely while I was driving, but the views rushing past were full of green fields and rolling hills, and it relaxed me.

  “You like it out here,” Stephen said, a statement rather than a question.

  I glanced over at him. He also looked more relaxed, his shoulders not so stiff and tight.

  “Aye, the city gets a little oppressive after a while, with all the people.”

  “I knew you were a misanthrope at heart.”

  I grinned. “Maybe a little.”

  “More than a little.”

  “Talking of avoiding people,” I started, “I might’ve brought my running kit.”

  Stephen groaned dramatically, but he was smiling. “I suppose I’ll have to suffer through a pub meal all on my own while you’re off making the rest of us look bad.”

  “You don’t mind, then?” I said. Once I’d found out about the Wooding’s house being all the way out here, I’d harboured a longing to get out there for a nice, long run, but I wasn’t sure Stephen would be alright with me abandoning him for a while.

  But he just patted my shoulder, none too gently, and said, “Of course I don’t mind. Keeps you out of my hair, doesn’t it?”

  I rolled my eyes, still smiling. “Anyone would think I was a right pain the way you go on.”

  “You said it not me,” Stephen chuckled.

  It was nice to hear him laughing again, and we ribbed each other some more, before the car fell quiet again, the radio chirping away in the background.

  “Okay,” Stephen said, after twenty minutes or so, “You get to say ‘I told you so’ now.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “That’s not surprising, but what was I right about this time?”

  “The call of nature is calling me pretty urgently right now,” he laughed.

  I chuckled. “Alright, alright.”

  After Stephen had sorted himself out, it was another good hour of travelling through the countryside scenery, passing through small villages and isolated farms, before we reached the bottom of the Wooding’s drive.

  “This looks suitably pretentious,” Stephen said, looking up at the wrought-iron gates, elaborately shaped into curling designs with the letters ‘A’ and ‘W’ in the centre.

  “Aaron Wooding, I presume,” I said, faintly amused.

  Climbing out of the car, I went to ring the intercom and waited for a response, which didn’t take long.

  “Who is calling?” The voice was tinny, but I recognised it as the housekeeper’s, Rebecca.

  “It’s DCI Mitchell and my partner, DI Huxley. We spoke on the phone?”

  The gates buzzed open. “Come right through, Inspector Mitchell.”

  I headed back to the car and climbed in, catching the bemused look on Stephen’s face. “How the other half live, right?” I said.

  He huffed. “Exactly.” He muttered something less complimentary about the elite, and I chuckled.

  “Get it out now,” I said, “I don’t think Rebecca will take too kindly to you calling her employers that.”

  Stephen wrinkled his nose. “You sure? Maybe some good working-class solidarity would help.”

  I snorted. “Mate, you’re definitely middle class.”

  He sent a wry look. “Nah, my wife is middle class. My folks were Welsh miners.”

  I looked over at him in surprise. “Really? You don’t soun
d Welsh.”

  He grinned. “Obviously. My dad lost his accent completely, sounds like a born ‘n’ bred Yorkshireman now, and I never picked up my mum’s. I’m built like a Welsh rugby player though, aren’t I?”

  I pulled up on the gravel car park in front of the impressively huge house. “You’re right there,” I agreed absentmindedly, looking up at the place. I had no idea about how to judge the ages of houses, but this one looked stately.

  “Looks like it ought to be National Trust,” Stephen said, mirroring my thoughts.

  I made a noise of agreement. “I feel underdressed.”

  We climbed out, and I tried not to gawp too much, focusing my thoughts back onto the case and the questions I wanted to ask Rebecca and her husband. I knew that they may very well not have heard about Lawrence being found, and might still believe him missing. I’d have to decide when and how to tell them.

  “Darren.”

  I glanced at Stephen, standing at my side by the door. “Yeah?”

  He shot me a grin. “Don’t forget to lift your pinkie if they give us tea.”

  I rolled my eyes at him as the door opened and a tall woman in a smart, blue dress looked down at us from the top step.

  “Inspectors Mitchell and Huxley? Please come in.”

  “Thanks.” I followed her inside, allowing myself a moment to look around the place. The entrance hall was wide and tall ceilinged with paintings hanging in neat rows across the walls. I half expected a middle-aged man in tweed to walk in with a hunting rifle over his shoulder and demand to know what we were doing.

  But Rebecca just led us efficiently through the house and round to the kitchen which was another meticulously clean, echoing space, a rack of copper saucepans hanging from the middle of the ceiling and catching the bright sun through the window.

  “We’re here about the Woodings’ disappearance,” I started, after Rebecca indicated for us to take a seat at the long, oak table. “We’d like to ask you and your husband a couple of questions, before we look round the house, if that’s alright with you.”

  Rebecca had listened politely while I spoke, but only gave me a nod. “Some tea first?” she said, gesturing towards the counter where a pot of tea and a plate of shortbread biscuits had been laid out.