Shooting Season: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel

by David J Gatward

  It didn’t, not by a longshot.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tuesday morning threw itself at the team on the tails of whips formed from rain being lashed against the earth by an angry wind. It pretty much summed up how Harry felt, drenched as he was on the outside from walking from his flat to the community centre, and beaten and bedraggled on the inside because of what they were dealing with. And there was still the shadow of the promised call from his father, and when that came, he had a deep sense within him that it was time to bring that all to a close, but how, he just wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that something needed to change, for his sake, yes, but more so for that of his brother, Ben.

  ‘Bloody awful day,’ Matt observed, as everyone gathered round to get a handle on the day ahead.

  Harry had spent the evening back in his flat trying to work out just what was going on with Charlie’s death, which was now very clearly a murder. An email from the pathologist had confirmed what they’d talked about on the phone the day before—there was just no way Charlie had shot himself. As for the broken leg and the additional blood spatter, that was down to Harry and his team to work out. Nothing much had come from the car, with no other DNA or anything else that couldn’t be linked to the owner. The whole thing had given Harry a headache and that had resulted in a pretty ropey night’s sleep. He hoped today would change that.

  ‘Right then,’ Harry said, gathering everyone around, the board behind him. ‘As you all know, things have changed a little in the last twenty-four hours. What we thought was a suicide was anything but. However, what we have, well, it just doesn’t add up, does it? Not yet, anyway.’

  Harry was distracted then by something rubbing against his feet. He looked down to see Fly staring up at him, tail wagging.

  ‘Think you’ll be much help with this, do you?’ Harry said to the dog.

  Fly’s tail wagged even harder at the sound of Harry’s voice.

  Jim called the dog over and had him sit beneath his chair.

  ‘Anyone want to do the board?’ Harry asked. ‘I’d do it myself but no one wants that, trust me.’

  Jadyn’s hand was first in the air and Harry handed over some dry-wipe pens.

  ‘So, what have we got, then?’ Harry asked.

  Jadyn wrote down the name of the victim on the board, then began to make notes as everyone went through what had happened and what they knew. From the event on Friday, which Gordy was able to run through for them again, the calling in of Charlie’s disappearance by Eric, through to the discovery of the body and what had happened to it, the interview with the actor, Rose White, Harry’s call with the pathologist and what she’d told him, and finally the interview with Anna James, they had a lot of detail, but nothing that gave them a clue about why Charlie had been killed.

  When they were done, Harry stepped back to look at the board. Black and red ink covered it, a mix of Jadyn’s handwriting and numerous lines linking points together, times, and any other detail he could fit on there.

  ‘What do you think?’ Jadyn asked.

  Harry wasn’t sure what to say. From where he was standing, it was like looking at a tangle of wool which had been thrown at the wall. Or the worst map of a road system ever.

  ‘You’ve certainly got it all down, so that’s something,’ Harry said as kindly as he could. ‘Lots of detail, Jadyn. Well done.’

  Jadyn smiled proudly. ‘So, it’s okay, then? Brilliant!’ He fist-pumped the air.

  Harry looked around at the rest of the team, hoping someone would come to his aid.

  Jen said, ‘Jadyn, why don’t you take a photo of what you’ve done, then we can use that to neaten it up a bit, put it in a bit of a better order, like? That way, when we get more details and whatnot, we’ll have plenty of space to do so.’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Jadyn said, pulling out his phone. ‘I’ll do that now.’

  Jim had the Action Book ready to record what everyone was doing for the day.

  ‘Right, then,’ Harry said. ‘I think we’ve got two things to be on with. One is to go and take another look at the crime scene, where Charlie’s car and body were found.’

  ‘But that’s already been looked over,’ Jadyn pointed out.

  ‘It has, yes, but it’s worth having another look, just in case,’ said Harry. ‘Not least, because I’m bothered that we’ve not found Charlie’s hat. He was seen leaving the place wearing it, so where the hell is it now?’

  ‘What else?’ Liz asked.

  Harry took a moment to work out what he wanted to say next.

  ‘Someone killed Charlie,’ Harry said. ‘But how or why or even when we just don’t know. Throw in the broken leg, the blood spatter from something else on his shirt, and this is, well, it’s a bit of a nightmare, isn’t it? Right now, our only pool of suspects is everyone at the lodge.’

  ‘You don’t think anyone else is involved?’ Matt asked. ‘I’m playing devil’s advocate.’

  ‘We need to keep an open mind, for sure.’ Harry nodded. ‘But we have to go with what we know. Which isn’t much, I know, but we start there and see where we get to.’

  ‘We need to go to the lodge, then,’ Matt said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Harry replied. ‘We need to go and have a look around the place and speak to everyone again. I especially want to speak to Chris.’

  ‘So, who do you want doing what?’ Jim asked.

  Harry thought for a moment, looked back at Jadyn’s creative approach to doing the board, then was back to the team.

  ‘I think fresh faces might help,’ he said. ‘Liz, Jen, how about you join me and Matt out at the lodge? Gordy, you take Jadyn over to the crime scene, see what you can find. I’m not saying that you will, I just think we need to be as thorough as we can. Like I said, there’s a hat somewhere. I don’t know if it will be useful or not, but I’d still like to know where the hell it is. The SOC team looked at where it happened, where Charlie’s body was found, but go further afield. Oh, and perhaps drop in on the gamekeeper as well, see if he has anything else to say.’

  ‘And me?’ Jim asked.

  ‘You’re designated office manager for the day,’ Harry said. ‘Not exciting, I know, but I want someone here to coordinate things if needed, to be here for anything that isn’t to do with this investigation, and if you can, to have another look through the photos of the crime scene. Also, can you call the literary agent, Anna, and tell her we’re on our way. I don’t want anyone leaving the house.’

  ‘No problem,’ Jim said, and reached down to stroke Fly’s head.

  Fly was up on his hind legs and leaning on Jim’s legs desperate for more fuss.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Liz said, ‘about Fly. I reckon we should make the daft animal an official member of the team.’

  ‘He’s a sheepdog!’ Jim sighed. ‘I know he might not seem like one, but that’s what he is!’

  ‘Not sure he wants to be though.’ Liz smiled, then reached out to Fly, who quickly switched allegiances and slid across the floor to her, rolling onto his back. ‘See? He wants to be with us, don’t you boy? Yes, you do!’

  As Liz tickled Fly’s stomach, and as Jim protested rather weakly about how she, and indeed everyone on the team, was ruining his dog, Harry drained his mug of what was left of the tea he’d made earlier then washed it out at the sink.

  ‘Right then,’ he said, turning back around to face the others. ‘We all know what we’re on with. Use Jim as the contact point. Let’s keep each other up to date with this. And let’s try and tie this one up as quick as we can because it’ll only become more difficult if the suspects we do have all head off back home to London.’

  ‘Nice excuse for a trip to the city, though,’ Jim said. ‘Never been.’

  ‘You’ve never been to London?’ Harry said. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Never had the need.’ Jim shrugged. ‘So, what’s it like, then?’

  ‘What’s it like?’ Harry repeated, rolling Jim’s question around in his mouth.

>   ‘Yeah,’ Jim asked. ‘I mean here’s lovely and all, but it’s quiet, isn’t? Must be exciting, loads to do, like, am I right?’

  ‘You really want to know what it’s like?’ Harry asked. ‘Well, imagine getting in your car now, and driving for the next few hours and seeing nothing but buildings, people rushing everywhere, high rise towers, concrete, steel. No fields, no countryside. Parks, yes, but not really the same, if I’m honest. None of what you’ve got right in front of you, just by looking out of that window there.’ Harry jabbed a finger across the room. ‘That’s what it’s like.’ And with that, he led the way out into the rain, half wondering now if what he’d just said wasn’t so much aimed at Jim, but himself, as deep down the wrestling match between staying here or going back to Bristol raged on. Which reminded him of what Swift had said about calling Firbank. But that could wait, for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  On the way over to the lodge, Jenny had done her best to try and encourage Harry with his fitness. She was the one who’d got him into running in the first place when he’d first arrived in the dales, after all, and he’d done really well to start with it and he’d kept at it for a few months. But he’d run into a two-week dry-spell and she didn’t want to see him just give up on it because he’d had a couple of weeks off.

  ‘The hardest part is always getting back into it,’ she said as Harry drove them towards West Witton. ‘Think of the progress you’ve made. You don’t want to lose it, do you? You’ve lost weight, you’re fitter. It’s all good.’

  ‘No, of course, I don’t,’ Harry grumbled back, and Jenny did her best not to laugh. A grown man he may have been, and with a face on him not so much like a bulldog chewing a wasp, but more a dairy cow munching on a chainsaw, but he also did a very good moody toddler.

  ‘I have breaks now and again,’ Jenny continued. ‘Everyone does. Rest is important, and it means you come back to it refreshed and keen again.’

  ‘I’m sure it does,’ Harry said, still offering a clear and present lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘You’re not really listening, are you?’ Jenny asked. ‘So, I’ll not go on, but you know I’m right.’

  At this, she saw a flicker of a smile crease the corner of Harry’s mouth.

  ‘No, I’ll start again, I promise,’ Harry said. ‘I know you’re right, it’s just that, well, sometimes things get in the way, don’t they?’

  ‘They do,’ Jenny agreed. ‘But I find that running gives me that space I need to think those things through.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ Harry said. ‘A lot on, you see.’ He tapped the side of his head with a finger.

  Jenny assumed Harry was talking about what they were dealing with now, the Charlie Baker case, which had her as confused as everyone else on the team. It just didn’t seem to make any sense, the idea of someone not only trying to make it look like suicide, but in such a rather elaborate way. What the person responsible had been thinking, she really couldn’t fathom, but first, they had to find out who that person was. ‘Yeah, this one is a bit strange, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Can’t work it out at all.’

  Harry mumbled a response.

  ‘Something else on your mind, then?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘If there is, you don’t want me bothering you with it,’ Harry said.

  ‘If it’s what happened with DCI Alderson . . .’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘He was okay,’ Jenny said, staring out of the window, the view of the dales caught in the droplets of rain racing down the glass, like a storm of tiny crystal balls, each reflecting a minute version of the valley around them. ‘But really, none of us knew him that well. He kept himself to himself, like. Probably because of where he’d come from, you know? A tough job, that kind of thing. Came up north to recover I reckon, as much as anything else.’

  ‘Sensible chap,’ Harry said. ‘Can’t think of a better place to get yourself well again.’

  ‘You’re right there,’ laughed Jenny. ‘You’re different though, to Anderson I mean. Mostly in a good way. Mostly.’

  Harry didn’t respond, whether out of choice, or because he didn’t hear her, Jenny wasn’t sure, but she didn’t press the point home.

  They were passing through West Witton now and Harry indicated right, before pulling them into the road which led over the top and on towards Coverdale.

  As the moors rolled towards them, Jenny glanced over at Penhill up on their right, its dark, sombre silhouette ancient and silent and yet somehow carrying a weight to it which told of thousands of years of history quietly, carefully observed.

  ‘That’s one of my favourite views,’ she said, pointing at the great, flat-topped mound of green. ‘It’s like it’s always watching us, you know? Keeping an eye on things in the dale. The views from up there are wonderful. You can see for miles.’

  ‘I’m sure they are,’ Harry said.

  ‘I’ll take you some time,’ Jenny offered. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t expect you to run up it, though there is a fell race that goes over it.’

  ‘That sounds like absolute hell,’ Harry said.

  ‘Went up there once for a Sunrise Service,’ Jenny said. ‘One of those early Easter Morning things?’ She could see that Harry had no idea what she wasn’t talking about, but she continued anyway. ‘My parents go to church and I went along with them. Thing was, it had been snowing hard, and we ended up having this service in a field, waist-deep in snow, huddled together by a wall, in the middle of a blizzard! It was brilliant!’

  ‘Certainly sounds it,’ Harry said, though his voice wasn’t exactly filled with conviction, Jenny thought. ‘Can’t remember when I last saw proper snow like that.’

  ‘We still get it sometimes.’ Then as Harry drove them down off the moors and towards the houses ahead, she asked, ‘You like it up here, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, I do,’ Harry said. ‘Impossible not to. I mean, just look at it. Even in the rain, it’s stunning.’

  Jenny decided, in the end, to just go for it and ask the question that had been bothering her. ‘So, would you think about staying? You know, take over for Alderson? Become our permanent DCI?’

  The question was out but Jenny almost immediately regretted it. Her mouth had a habit of running on her. What Harry did was up to him, wasn’t it? Last thing he needed was pressure from people like her. Still, it was good that she was giving him the opportunity to talk about it, or at least that’s what she was telling herself now, as she stared out of the window, very aware of the silence in the car and her question still out there unanswered.

  ‘Can’t see that any of you would really want that,’ Harry eventually replied. ‘Can you imagine having this face to look at all the time?’

  Harry turned briefly to face Jenny and was then back looking at the road ahead, indicating right, to pull them onto the track leading to the lodge.

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ Jenny said.

  Ahead, the lodge came into view, a foreboding shadow hidden behind a thick curtain of grey rain, which cast itself across the fields with ferocious abandon. It was the first time that Jenny had been out to it and she was struck by how serious the place looked, like it would face Armageddon and survive it out of sheer bloody-mindedness. But it was the rain which really drew her attention. There was a wildness to it, Jenny thought, and that was one of the things about the dales that she loved the most. How even though over the centuries humanity had tried its best to control it, to hem it in, to contain it inside drystone walls, it was still untamed. How could Harry not stay?

  ‘We’re here,’ Harry said, stating the obvious. ‘At least this weather will have helped to keep our suspects indoors.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Can’t see them looking at this lot coming down and thinking it a good idea to go walk about.’

  As they pulled up in front of the house, Matt’s vehicle came up alongside.

  ‘Right, let’s get in there and see what we’ve got,’ Harry said, and he climbed out of the car and strode off toward
s the house, the rain hammering into him yet doing little to alter his course.

  Jenny braced herself for what was about to hit her, then followed Harry. The wind-driven rain came for her immediately, threatening to whip the door from her hands, then chasing her all the way across the gravel parking area to the house, whipping at her legs, the raindrops exploding on her skin with sharp pinpricks of pain.

  The door was open by the time Jenny arrived at the house and bouncing through it and into the hall, she found herself facing not just a bedraggled Harry, but also a kind-looking gentleman offering her a towel.

  ‘Quite the weather up here, isn’t it?’ he said, as Jenny took the towel with a thank you and wiped her hair and face down just enough to stop herself dripping all over the place.

  ‘It is that,’ Jenny said. ‘Certainly get more than our fair share of it up here.’

  Harry, Jenny noticed, was already making his way through a door, so she followed, as Matt and Liz bounded into the hall behind her, a flurry of wind, water, and swearing.

  Jenny noticed the animals immediately, remembering Jim mentioning something about them back in Hawes. He hadn’t undersold it, either, because those dead animals were everywhere, weren’t they? And those eyes! Bloody horrific! It was like standing on the set of a Hammer horror movie.

  ‘Quite a place,’ Jen said, walking over to the fire, which was blazing away.

  ‘Bit creepy if you ask me,’ Liz said, walking in to join them, Matt coming along behind.

  ‘It’s got a certain rustic old-world charm to it, yes,’ said the man who had handed Jenny the towel in the hall, as he followed in to join them. ‘If you make yourselves comfortable, I’ll fetch the others. Why don’t you go ahead and put the kettle on?’

  Liz said, ‘Well, he seems nice, anyway.’

  ‘That’s Eric,’ Harry said. ‘Charlie’s accountant and legal adviser. He’s the one who reported him missing.’

  Jenny heard footsteps from above and a moment or two later the rest of the party started to slope into the room. This was the first time she’d met any of them and she stood back a little, just observing.