Corpse Road

by David J Gatward

  Jim unclipped his seatbelt. Fly sprang from off of his lap and over to Harry’s, then licked the DCI’s chin.

  ‘He likes you!’ Jim said, opening his door as Fly’s tail wagged faster and faster and he pushed himself up on his front legs to get to the rest of Harry’s face.

  Harry grabbed Fly, plopped him in the passenger footwell, then climbed out of the car.

  ‘Here,’ he called over to Jim, then threw the PCSO the keys that the SOC team had found on Kirsty. ‘Go see if one of those fits the front door.’

  ‘What if the house is alarmed?’

  ‘I’m going to put a fiver on our friend Daryl leaving in too much of a rush to worry about anyone stopping by to nick his silver candlesticks and oil paintings,’ Harry said.

  At the front door, Jim tried the keys and was first-time lucky. Pushing it open, they both waited for the alarm, but none came.

  ‘See? Told you so,’ Harry said. ‘Wisdom of the old, right there.’

  ‘You’re not old,’ Jim said.

  ‘I don’t half bloody well feel it sometimes, though,’ Harry said. ‘Hanging around with you isn’t helping either. Now get in and see what you can find.’

  Harry followed Jim into the house. It was quiet, oddly so, he thought, but only in the way he’d noticed numerous times before. It was as though a house knew if its occupiers had left its embrace for good or ill. The air was too still, almost as though the very walls themselves had been caught off guard and didn’t quite know what to do with themselves.

  ‘Check upstairs,’ Harry instructed. ‘And be careful. For all we know he’s still here and someone else took the car.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Harry said, ‘but regardless, stay sharp.’

  As Jim dashed upstairs, Harry did a sweep of the ground floor, starting with the lounge. It was the same as before, a tableau of the previous night’s drunk and debauched evening of alcohol-fuelled fun and frolics. So, Daryl hadn’t even bothered to tidy, which said a lot.

  Further down the hall, Harry checked an office-cum-gym room, which had French windows staring out of a large, well maintained, and somewhat overly designed garden, which was all angles and gravel and unnecessarily strange-looking bushes. The gym equipment looked expensive, as did the flatscreen television on the wall. Outside in the garden, he spotted a water feature front and centre, which to Harry looked like an enormous, melted chocolate bar, still in its foil wrapping. Water dripped down it a little pathetically. He had no doubt that it cost a small fortune. Much like everything else in Daryl and Kirsty’s life, he thought, pondering the fact that he’d lost count of the number of times he’d seen houses like this, dedicated to money buying happiness, only to be proved terribly, horribly wrong.

  After the office, Harry found himself in a smaller reading room, the walls lined with bookshelves and art on the walls, then a utility room, with a door leading off to the side of the house by the garage. Finally, he made his way back into the kitchen and dropped down on the same stool he’d occupied barely an hour earlier, to listen to Jim scootch around upstairs.

  ‘Anything?’ he asked when Jim finally appeared.

  Jim shrugged. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for, but whatever it was, I didn’t find it.’

  ‘The daft sod’s definitely done a runner, then,’ Harry said. ‘May as well just tattoo GUILTY onto his forehead at the same time, whether he is or not!’

  ‘I’ve got the number plate,’ Jim said. ‘Jotted it down when we arrived.’

  Inside, Harry beamed. Jim really was bloody good at his job. ‘Right, call that in and see if we can’t get him found. Guilty or not, we need him back at the station to answer a few more questions.’

  Jim laughed. ‘Back at the station! Not sure our couple of rooms in Hawes can ever be described as that.’

  ‘Force of habit,’ Harry said. ‘Though I can’t think what else to call it. And I’m not going to be blurting out, Right, let’s get him back to the rooms at the Hawes Community Centre every time we need to take someone in for a chat, that’s for sure!’

  Once outside, Harry saw that Fly was sitting on the driver’s side of the RAV again, staring at him, tail thumping. ‘You’re a silly sod, you know that?’ he said, staring at the dog. Fly’s tail simply thumped harder and faster.

  ‘Right, they’re on it,’ Jim said, joining Harry at the vehicle. ‘Now what?’

  Harry checked his watch. The afternoon was leaving them behind and rushing towards evening. ‘Let’s get back,’ Harry said. ‘Gather the team together and see where we are.’

  Jim, Harry noticed, was staring back at the house.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked.

  Jim shrugged and turned back to face Harry. ‘You think he did it?’ he asked. ‘The husband, I mean.’

  ‘Majority of murder victims are killed by someone they know, someone close to them, a friend or a family member,’ Harry said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

  ‘So, that’s a yes, then?’

  ‘No, it’s a statement of fact,’ Harry said. ‘Research shows that’s just the way it is for most murders like this. But there’s always those that buck the trend. Always.’

  ‘Still, it’s looking pretty obvious right now, isn’t it, what with him scarpering and all?’

  ‘There’s a world of difference between what looks obvious and what the truth actually is,’ Harry said. ‘But yes, it is starting to look a bit obvious.’

  Jim frowned. ‘You’re speaking in riddles.’

  ‘I’m just saying that there’ll be no jumping to conclusions,’ Harry said. ‘Some of what we have fits, some of it doesn’t. And it’s the some-of-it-doesn’t that’s bothering me.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Doesn’t exactly look like anyone’s in, does it?’ Jen said, standing beside Matt outside a small, terrace cottage of grey stone. Then she noticed the car parked out front, a small, white hatchback with alloy wheels. It had clearly been polished to within an inch of its life. ‘Wow!’

  ‘Wow?’ Matt said, staring at the car, somewhat baffled. ‘What’s wow about that? It’s at least thirty years old!’

  Jen raised an eyebrow, staring at him from the other side of the car’s bonnet. ‘You do know what this is, right?’

  ‘A car,’ Matt said. ‘Do I get a prize?’

  ‘What, a coconut?’

  Matt laughed, remembering one of their DCI’s more bizarre phrases.

  Jen was walking around the car now, a huge smile on her face. ‘This is a Peugeot 205 GTi! And it’s in mint condition! Look at it!’

  Matt was looking at it. He was staring hard at it wondering what all the fuss was about. Then he turned his attention to the beautiful scenery surrounding them. Behind the cottage, in the distance, he saw how the fells rose gently, ancient beasts slumbering under a blanket of green. Above them floated a clear sky home to candy floss clouds, and on the air came the faint sound of sheep calling to each other in the fields at their feet.

  Matt pulled himself back to Jen and her bubbling excitement then knocked again at the door before leaning the side of his head against it to listen for any sound from the other side. ‘Looks like we’ll have to come back tomorrow,’ he said.

  As Matt turned away from the cottage to walk back to the patrol car, the sound of a door opening behind him had him stop and turn around.

  ‘Er, hello?’

  Standing in the doorway was a young man. He was naked from the waist up, sweat pouring from his brow, a small towel in his hand. He was slim, built like a climber, with dark hair, which only looked more so against his pale skin. It flopped over his eyes and he attempted to tuck it behind his ears.

  ‘Police,’ Matt said, stating the blatantly obvious, what with Jen being in uniform. He realised this probably sounded a little abrupt, so smiled far too broadly, then added, ‘Just wondered if we could have a little chat?’

  ‘Why, what’s happened?’ the young man asked, stepping out of the cott
age and into the light of the day. ‘Is it Adam? Is he okay?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, no, it’s not about Adam,’ Matt said. ‘Though, I’m sure he’s fine. It’s about last night? The lights that you saw?’

  ‘You are Gary, yes?’ Jen said, stepping forward, moving away from the Peugeot. ‘Gary Bright?’

  The young man nodded, then wiped his face with the towel, a smile creasing his face as he looked over at Jen. Pushing his fringe out of his eyes again he said, ‘Sorry, just been working out.’

  ‘You mind if we come in?’ Jen asked, gesturing to the open door behind him.

  ‘Yeah, no problem,’ Gary replied. ‘Just give me five while I shower and change.’

  Before either Jen or Matt could say anything, Gary turned and disappeared back into the cottage.

  Following him in, Jen and Matt stood in the small lounge waiting for Gary to return. Matt wandered around the lounge, not looking at anything in particular. The room was cosy, with an open fire, comfy-looking sofa and armchair, and shelves heaving under the weight of books and DVDs. Matt cast an eye over the shelves. He’d been right about Gary looking like a climber, he thought, spotting classics such as The Games Climbers Play and numerous climbing guides, standing alongside books by Andy McNab and Lee Child. He pulled out one of the DVDs. ‘Bloody hell, I’ve not seen this in years.’

  ‘What is it?’ Jen asked, walking over to join him.

  ‘Stone Monkey,’ Matt said. ‘Absolutely amazing stuff. Gritstone climbing. Johnny Dawes.’

  ‘You mean you used to climb?’

  Matt saw the look of disbelief written across Jen’s face. ‘I used to look like that once, you know,’ he said. ‘Back in the day.’

  Jen laughed. ‘You, a six-pack?’

  ‘Well, perhaps not that, no.’ Matt sighed, slipping the DVD back on the shelf. ‘But I was really into my training. I think I’ve even still got my weights somewhere. Maybe I should get them out again.’

  ‘And then again, maybe you shouldn’t,’ Jen said.

  ‘What are you saying?’ Matt said, doing his best to look hurt.

  ‘I’m saying that you shouldn’t go looking at someone half your age and use that as the motivation to get fit. If you do, you’ll do yourself a mischief.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ Matt said. ‘All that running you do, up and down mountains all the time.’

  ‘You need to ease yourself into it,’ Jen said. ‘Like Harry is with his running.’

  ‘He’s still doing it, then?’

  Jen nodded. ‘He’s kept at it. Does three five-kilometre runs a week now.’

  ‘How absolutely bloody terrifying!’ Matt said. ‘Can you imagine seeing that massive angry bastard charging down the road towards you, sweat pouring off that face of his, the air thick with him swearing in that weird west country accent of his?’

  He then did what he assumed was a good impression of Harry running, waving his arms around, and huffing and puffing and swearing.

  ‘Best you don’t do that in front of him,’ Jen said. ‘If you want to live to see the next day, that is.’

  ‘Ah, get away with you,’ Matt said. ‘He’s just a big cuddly bear under all that gruff and grump.’

  ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘No,’ Matt said. ‘Not in the slightest.’

  Gary entered the lounge fully dressed now, though just as red in the face courtesy of the shower. He looked straight over at Jen. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No, we’re good,’ Jen said.

  Gary took a seat. Matt and Jen did the same.

  ‘So,’ Matt began, ‘can you tell us what happened last night?’

  ‘Not much,’ Gary said, leaning back. ‘Saw some lights on the fells, that was it really.’

  ‘What made you think something was wrong?’ Jen asked.

  ‘Not sure,’ Gary replied. ‘Just looked strange, I guess. It was a clear, dark night, I saw the lights, mentioned them to Adam, and he thought it was worth heading up to check out.’

  ‘He called it in though,’ Jen said. ‘He must have thought it was serious enough for that.’

  ‘I suppose so, yes,’ Gary agreed.

  ‘And where were you when you saw this?’ Matt asked.

  ‘On my way back from the King’s Head,’ Gary said, then flicked a look over to Jen. ‘It’s the pub in Gunnerside.’ He brushed the hair back from his face. ‘You ever been?’

  ‘Can’t say that I have,’ Jen said.

  ‘You should,’ Gary replied, smiling. ‘It’s really friendly. If you ever want to go, you know, for a pint or whatever, just let me know.’

  There was a pause in the conversation as Jen glanced over to Matt who was staring at her now, an eyebrow raised and the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

  ‘So, you were at the pub for the evening, then?’ Jen said, kick-starting the conversation again.

  ‘Nipped in for last orders, like I usually do on Fridays,’ Gary explained. ‘I was walking back after closing time and that’s when I saw it, the lights, I mean.’

  So what were you doing for the rest of the evening?’

  Gary smiled. ‘I was round next door with Mr Harker. He’s on his own and in his eighties so I go round and keep him company now and again. He plays a mean game of draughts and pours a generous measure of whisky.’

  Matt wrote the details down, making a note to check in with Mr Harker, and took his phone number down as well.

  ‘He’s not got a mobile and has no idea what the internet is,’ Gary said.

  ‘What is it you do yourself?’ Jen asked.

  ‘Web design,’ Gary answered. ‘Looking for a full-time job after university, you know, so I’m filling my time with odd jobs here and there when I can get them.’

  ‘Where were you at university?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Lancaster,’ Gary said. ‘Nice place. Good times.’

  ‘Is there anything else you noticed last night?’ Jen asked.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything unusual,’ Jen suggested.

  Gary looked thoughtful for a second or two then said, ‘There was this bloke who turned up at the pub,’ he said. ‘He sort of just walked in, looked around, then left again.’

  ‘Can you remember what he looked like?’

  ‘Tallish, thinnish,’ Gary said.

  Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out the photo that he’d shown Ellie back at the Lodge in Keld. He showed it to Gary.

  ‘Yeah, that was him,’ Gary said. ‘Older though.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘No idea. Late evening anyway.’

  Matt stuffed the photo back into his pocket. ‘I think that’ll do for now,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Thanks for your time, Gary. Very much appreciated. And well done on spotting the lights on the fell. Most folk wouldn’t have thought to do anything about it.’

  ‘No problem,’ Gary replied. ‘You sure there’s nothing else I can help you with?’

  Matt noticed Gary’s eyes stray over to Jen again. ‘No, we’ll be heading off now, leave you be.’

  Outside the cottage, Jen saw the Peugeot and turned back to Gary. ‘This yours?’

  ‘Yep,’ Gary replied. ‘I’ve had it for years. Renovated it myself. You like it?’

  ‘I love it!’ Jen said.

  ‘Well, perhaps I can take you for a ride in it some time, let you have a spin?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Jen replied with a smile.

  Gary closed his front door and Matt went to climb into the passenger seat when he remembered something. ‘Just a mo’ . . .’

  Jogging over to the house next door to Gary’s, he gave the front door a knock. There was no answer, so he tried again, harder this time.

  ‘Away, then,’ Jen called from inside the patrol car. ‘We’ve got his number. We’ll give him a call later.’

  Matt turned away from the house, climbed into the car, and turned to Jen as she clipped herself in and started the engine. ‘Think you’ve an admirer there.’
r />   ‘Not my type,’ Jen said, with a laugh. ‘The car though? That’s definitely my type! Back to Hawes?’

  ‘As quick as you can,’ Matt said. ‘This is urgent.’

  Jen keyed the engine into life. ‘I know. He saw Kirsty’s husband.’

  ‘Well, yes, that, obviously,’ Matt said. ‘But there’s something else, too.’

  ‘What?’ Jen asked, snapping round to face Matt.

  ‘Cake, Jen,’ Matt said, deadpan. ‘Cake. And it won’t get eaten all by itself, now, will it?’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Harry let his head fall back a little just so that he could stare up at the ceiling. He then rubbed his eyes hard enough to see sparks, before rolling his head forward again in the hope that things had changed.

  They hadn’t.

  Having arrived back at the community centre about half an hour ago, with Jim and Fly in tow, he was as tired as everyone else looked. It was gone five in the afternoon, it had been a long day, the kind which had decided to stretch out its greedy hands across the night before, and everyone didn’t just want to go home, they needed to. The trouble was, that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. Not because he had ordered them to stay. Quite the opposite, actually. Once everyone had reported back on anything they’d found, or not, he’d told them all to bugger off home and get a good night’s sleep, because they needed it. Harry was pleased with what Jen and Matt had found, not just over at the Lodge in Keld, but from the chat with Gary, Adam’s brother. And he and Jim shared what had happened with the husband, his very obvious late-night escapades, his behaviour, and then him doing a runner. Then, Detective Superintendent Swift had arrived and, well, that had been the end of that, hadn’t it?

  ‘Grimm?’

  Harry rested his glare on the pale, pallid face of his superior, his hands clasping the enormous pint mug Matt had bought him a few months ago. It was still half-full with tea and Harry spotted a few crumbs from the cake he’d had with it a few minutes ago. He’d managed, once again, to avoid the horror of adding crumbly Wensleydale cheese to it, averting his eyes as he’d watched Matt cut a slab of the creamy white stuff, then lay it on top of a slice of cake from Cockett’s and shove it into his mouth with unbridled glee.