Harry stood, his shadow stretching out across the floor towards the door, as though it was pulling him out of the room.
‘Right, well, we had best be going. As I’ve said, we’ll be in touch as soon as we hear any more.’
Eric showed them to the front door.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice breaking on a cough, which he covered quickly with a handkerchief. ‘For coming out. I don’t envy you your job, not one bit.’
‘You alright?’ Harry asked, as Eric leaned briefly against the door.
Eric gave a nod, but Harry wasn’t convinced by it.
‘You don’t look it,’ Harry observed, noting how the man seemed suddenly pale, clammy.
‘It’s just my age,’ Eric replied.
‘You’re not exactly ancient,’ said Harry.
‘And neither am I young.’ Eric smiled and dabbed at his mouth with the handkerchief again. Before Eric put it back in his pocket, Harry noticed a spot of blood on the cloth, but decided not draw attention to it, Eric having made it clear that he wasn’t keen to talk about.
Harry made to leave, but stopped mid-step, and turned back to Eric, something else on his mind.
‘You were going to say something else back there, weren’t you?’ he asked. ‘About Charlie and his writing?’
At this, Eric smiled, then rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘I’m old,’ he said. ‘And I’ve seen many fools in my life. Charlie was one of them, I’m afraid. I’m just sorry it’s come to this in the end.’
And with that, Eric stepped back and closed the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Harry had the whole team gathered together in the community centre in Hawes. It was bright outside, though the promised heat of the sun was held at bay by a bite in the wind, the teeth of it sharp enough to gnaw through clothing. There were better days to start the week, he knew that for sure, but before they got to what had happened over the weekend, Harry had other news to deliver. And he didn’t know which he was looking forward to less.
‘You okay, Boss?’
Harry was making himself another mug of tea, his fourth since waking up at six from a nightmare that had him trapped in a cave and surrounded by headless bodies. It was certainly one of his more vivid dreams for sure. Matt’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
‘What? Yeah, I’m fine,’ Harry replied then held up his mug. ‘Want one?’
‘Never say no.’ Matt smiled, then in a hushed voice said, ‘Look, about what you have to tell everyone, about Alderson? I’m happy to do it if you want. I mean, I knew him, and it might be easier for me, that’s all.’
Harry handed Matt a steaming mug.
‘It’s all part of the job. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’
‘Oh, I didn’t say I was worried.’ Matt winked, then sauntered away to join the others.
Harry watched Matt go, Fly bounding over to whip onto his back for a tummy rub at the DS’s feet. Then, when Matt sat down, the dog turned his attention to Harry, slinking over, head low, tail flailing around like it had a life all its own.
Harry dropped to a crouch and the dog nuzzled into his legs, reaching up to try and lick his chin. Harry smiled and scratched the animal’s head, which caused it to drop onto its back, legs up in the air. A brief tummy rub later and Harry stood back up and walked over to the rest of the team.
‘Right then,’ he began, ‘before we get onto what’s been going on over the weekend, I’ve something else I need to tell you.’
At this, and the clear and serious tone to Harry’s voice, everyone fell quiet and turned their attention to him. Even Fly, Harry noticed, and suddenly become still, sitting as he was under Jim’s seat.
‘As you all know, I had a meeting with Detective Superintendent Swift on Saturday.’
‘You’re not leaving us, are you?’ Jim said, sitting upright now, alert. ‘I mean, I know you’re not here permanently, like, but it wasn’t about that was it? You going back down south? Because you can’t, not yet, surely.’
‘It had better not be,’ Liz said, voicing her support for what Jim had said.
Harry smiled as the rest of the team joined in with nods and words of support. All things considered, it was nice to hear that they at least liked him. Harry wasn’t exactly used to that. Back in Bristol, his team had been excellent and professional and hardworking, yes, and the same could be said of everyone sitting in front of him now. Except there was something different about them, wasn’t there? In many ways, he realised, they reminded him of how the lads had all got on together back in the Paras. What they had, well, it went well beyond just working together.
‘It wasn’t,’ Harry said. ‘But it was about DCI Alderson.’
A hush descended on the room.
‘I’m afraid I have to pass on the news that DCI Alderson was found dead a few days ago. They suspect suicide. PTSD the most likely cause. His family have been informed and all appropriate support provided.’
Harry stopped talking, kept breathing, and just allowed the awful news to sink in.
‘Thanks for that, Boss,’ Matt said. ‘Not an easy thing to pass on.’
‘I don’t know what Alderson was like,’ Harry said, ‘but from what I understand, he was highly thought of. I’m really, truly sorry.’
‘Thanks,’ Jim said. ‘Yeah, he was okay.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Jen. ‘Suicide?’
Gordy raised a hand. ‘Mind if I say something?’
‘No, go ahead,’ said Grimm.
Gordy cast her gaze around the rest of the team.
‘This job can get to you, we all know that. Which is why the support we all give each other, well, it’s so important, isn’t it? Bottling stuff up doesn’t help. And not asking for help when you need it is bloody stupid. This is a good team. Lean on each other. And let’s try and learn a little from this tragedy, okay?’
‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Matt put in. ‘You’re not just my team, people I work with, you’re my friends. Hell, you’re family! Even Grimm, here!’
That got a laugh, and it was much needed, Harry thought, impressed with Matt’s timing. Most people would think that humour at such a time was misplaced, but Harry knew the opposite was true.
‘Let’s not get all mushy, though,’ Harry said, ‘but DI Haig is right.’
‘There’s no I in team,’ Jadyn blurted out.
Everyone turned and stared.
‘It’s something I heard at college.’ Jadyn shrugged. ‘Sorry.’
‘They really did teach you some right old bollocks, didn’t they?’ Matt said, shaking his head. ‘No I in team? There’s nowt liking filling someone’s head with rubbish, is there?’
Harry decided it was time to move on.
‘Right, so what have we got on today? Who’s on with the Action Book?’
‘Me,’ Jen said, raising a hand.
‘Then ready that pen,’ Harry advised, ‘because we’ve got plenty to be getting on with.’
Half an hour later, and the team duly dished out various jobs, including calling Rebecca Sowerby to check when her report would be with them, hopefully with confirmation of an identity, popping round to check up on the gamekeeper, Arthur Black, who found the body, and putting in a courtesy call to the group at the old shooting lodge. There were also a few local jobs to be on with, and Gordy had other business down dale, after a report had come in about some squaddies getting into a scrap in a pub.
‘They’ll just be letting off steam, that’s all,’ Harry said, as Gordy headed off.
‘There are other ways to do it than stripping a mate of his clothes, trying to stuff him down a toilet, then setting fire to said clothes.’ Gordy sighed.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Harry said. ‘You’d be surprised how effective that can be.’
Shaking her head, Gordy headed off and Harry turned back into the room to find Jadyn waiting for him and standing pretty much to attention.
‘You alright there, Constable?’ Harry asked.
&nbs
p; ‘What? Oh, right, yes,’ Jadyn said, relaxing. ‘Just, you know, I’m ready when you are, that’s all.’
Harry had to admire the lad’s enthusiasm.
‘All we’re doing is going on a long journey to ask someone a few questions, that’s all,’ Harry said. ‘We’re not Starsky and Hutch.’
‘Who?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Harry said. ‘Here . . .’ He handed Jadyn a twenty-pound note. ‘Go and grab us some supplies for the journey.’
Jadyn took the money.
‘Anything in particular?’
‘If I can eat it, I’m happy,’ Harry said.
Jadyn jogged out of the room. Harry wasn’t really sure why the constable had thought it necessary to do so, but he wasn’t about to stop him.
‘Dinsdale?’
Matt walked over.
‘Can you put a call through to whoever you need to, just to let them know that I’m going to be in their area today? Don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes.’
‘York, is it?’ Matt said.
‘It is,’ Harry replied.
‘Lovely place,’ Matt said. ‘Got massively drunk there once. Before I joined the Force, like.’
‘Do I need to ask?’
‘No, but I’ll tell you anyway,’ Matt said. ‘I met an old mate there, you see? Hadn’t seen each other in ages, and York seemed to be a good choice for somewhere to meet up, have a few beers, that kind of thing.’
‘And was it?’
‘Ish,’ Matt said, waggling his left hand in the air. ‘I mean, it was all going well until we realised that we hadn’t actually eaten anything except crisps and pork scratchings, with the beer, like. And it was already mid-afternoon. So we left the pub and headed off to one that served food.’
‘I’m going to regret asking this,’ Harry said, ‘but what happened?’
‘We were barred,’ Matt said, shaking his head. ‘I mean, it was the first time either of us had set foot in the place in our lives, and they refused to serve us!’
‘Something to be proud of,’ Harry said.
‘The other pub had called ahead,’ Matt explained. ‘It gets worse . . .’
‘How?’
‘My mate, well, on the train back home, he texted me to tell me that he threw up a burger he couldn’t even remember eating.’
‘Remind me to never go drinking with you,’ Harry said. ‘Ever.’
Jadyn was at the door.
‘Supplies sorted,’ he said, holding up a very full carrier bag.
‘Right, then, we’ll be off,’ said Harry, then gave a last look over at Matt. ‘And make that call, will you? Just don’t mention who you are, because by the sound of it, they’ll still have you on their Most Wanted wall.’
‘Will do, Boss,’ Matt said.
Outside, Harry climbed into the driver’s seat of one of their pool cars. He was tempted to take his own vehicle, just because he enjoyed driving it, but this was a long journey, and he also wanted to make it very obvious who they were and what they were about.
‘So, what did you get, then?’ Harry asked, starting the engine, as Jadyn clipped himself in beside him.
‘Pies,’ Jadyn said.
‘Bit early for that,’ Harry said, reversing.
‘Yeah, that’s lunch,’ Jadyn said. ‘So I got these, as well.’
Harry stopped the car, pulled the gear stick out of reverse and into neutral, and looked at the bag in Jadyn’s hand.
‘And what’s in there, then?’ he asked.
Jadyn grinned.
‘Iced buns,’ he said.
There were healthier foods, Harry knew, but as he headed out of Hawes, and out on their long journey to York, he took his first bite and really didn’t care.
Chapter Seventeen
‘And this is a service station?’ Harry asked, pulling off the main road about a mile or so out the other side of Bedale, a market town close to the A1 motorway.
Jadyn had given him a bit of a history lesson as they’d trundled through the town, mentioning various random facts, such as how the town was recorded in the Doomsday Book, that the museum housed a wooden fire engine dating back to the seventeen-hundreds, and that the Wensleydale Railway was close by.
‘Where did you learn all this, then?’ Harry had asked. ‘And more to the point, why?’
‘I was new to the area,’ Jadyn had said. ‘A little bit of local knowledge goes a long way.’
He never mentioned the service station though, did he? Harry thought. But then he couldn’t imagine why anyone would. It was the kind of place that any village or town would probably keep very quiet about.
Harry leaned forward to look out of the windscreen. ‘You sure we’ve not just travelled back in time?’
‘Usually feels like that travelling the other way,’ Jadyn said.
‘Yes, but that’s in a good way,’ Harry said, aiming the vehicle at one of the numerous empty parking spaces. ‘The dales aren’t old fashioned and half dead, are they? But this place . . .’
Harry’s voice faded, lost to the vision of the worn welcome before them.
The building had all the charm of a crematorium, Harry thought, which wasn’t helped by the fact that it was boarded up, with smoke or steam coming out of a chimney. There was, however, a Costa and a McDonalds, the two chains which, Harry was sure, would, like cockroaches, be the only establishments to survive a nuclear conflagration. He doubted the food would taste any different, either. The end of the world might even improve it.
‘Well, at least we haven’t stopped for lunch,’ Harry said.
‘Pie time?’ Jadyn asked.
‘You go stretch your legs,’ Harry said, hanging fire on the promised pies. ‘I’ve a call to make.’
The reason for the unwanted detour was because Harry’s phone had buzzed in his pocket. He’d not connected it to Bluetooth because, frankly, he wasn’t really sure how. And talking on speakerphone always made him feel like an idiot. So he’d pulled over and almost instantly wished that he hadn’t. But seeing that the call was from the pathologist, he was more than happy to spend a few minutes under the shadow of somewhere which looked like it didn’t just need demolishing but would actually welcome it. Rather that, than keep Rebecca Sowerby waiting, he thought.
With Jadyn heading off to explore, a pie in his hand, Harry punched in the call and it was answered barely a heartbeat later.
‘Thanks for getting back to me.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
‘I won’t,’ Sowerby replied.
There she was, Harry thought, the pathologist he was used to, the one with the tongue sharpened to a dagger on nearly everything she said. Harry asked, ‘What have we got?’
‘Well, first of all, we’ve got a confirmed ID,’ Sowerby said. ‘Obviously, identifying the body visually was a little problematic considering what happened to it, but we managed to do a crosscheck with some medical records of the suspected victim.’
‘Medical records?’
‘Shattered femur,’ Sowerby explained. ‘Rugby injury when he was in his teens. The X-rays correspond exactly. Must have been agony when it happened.’
Harry rubbed his eyes, already feeling the weight of what he was being told.
‘It’s him then?’ he said. ‘Charlie Baker. No doubt at all?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Sowerby confirmed. ‘It’s definitely him. Also, his gun license was in the car.’
‘So, it was his?’ Harry asked.
‘Absolutely,’ Sowerby replied. ‘There was a hard case in the boot at the front. Legal and secure.’
‘Didn’t think that would be big enough.’
‘The gun is stored broken in two,’ Sowerby explained. ‘The keys were on the same ring as the one for the car.’
‘Well, that’s something anyway,’ Harry sighed. ‘Better that we know who it is.’
‘And we won’t have to mess around with getting anyone in to try and identify the body due to scar marks or whatever,’ Sowerby said. ‘The state it
’s in, that just wouldn’t be good for anyone. It’s pretty hard to disguise a missing head.’
‘No, you’re not wrong,’ Harry agreed, though already he was running through breaking the news to Charlie’s friends back at the lodge, wondering just how much wine and how many cigarettes Charlie’s literary agent, Anna, would get through when she heard it.
‘It was suicide, then,’ Harry said. ‘He took his own head off with a shotgun?’
Silence greeted Harry’s question.
‘Something up?’
‘Remember what I said yesterday?’ Sowerby said, her voice hesitant. ‘About the shotgun?’
‘Of course,’ Harry replied. ‘You said both barrels had been fired.’
‘At first, I wondered if it was just that one barrel had been, and that the other simply contained an empty shell, from the last time it was used, or something,’ Sowerby said, ‘but that wouldn’t have worked, mainly because the gun itself was an ejector.’
‘So, the empty cartridges are ejected when you break the barrel, after firing?’
Harry knew what Sowerby was talking about having fired a few shotguns in his time, though not for fun. Mostly it was to take door hinges off, a job which no other tool did better. Though in such cases, the gun used had been a Remington pump-action, not a double-barrel. Still, he knew about ejectors, some of them being so powerful that a spent cartridge could crack you one on the forehead if you weren’t careful when you broke the barrel.
‘Exactly that,’ Sowerby said. ‘And it’s not easy to get an empty cartridge back into a shotgun, because the crimped bit at the end, which has been blasted open on firing, well that’s splayed out a bit and doesn’t really like getting shoved back into the barrel it’s just pinged out of.’
‘And why would anyone reload an empty cartridge anyway?’ Harry said. ‘That makes no sense at all.’
‘None whatsoever.’
Both sides of the conversation died as neither Harry, nor, he suspected, the pathologist, wanted to suggest where this was leading.
Shooting Season: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel Page 14