Best Served Cold: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel

by David J Gatward

  The barman returned with the order and Harry paid up, handed Matt his drink and snack, then turned towards Reedy.

  ‘Time to go and introduce myself,’ he said, then nodded back to the barman and handed him his bank card, gesturing towards the three men, ‘And bring over another round of whatever it is they’re drinking . . .’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harry walked over to the table and stood behind the man whom he was pretty sure went by the name of Reedy.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ he said. ‘Mind if we join you?’

  With Reedy having his back to him, the other two glanced up and Harry caught their irritated stares which were thrown up at him with mean intent.

  ‘Yeah, actually, we do,’ one of them said. ‘Private conversation.’

  The other mouthed something at Harry.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that,’ Harry said and leaned in across the table. ‘You mind speaking up?’

  ‘I said piss off,’ the man said, the words spitting from him like sparks from a fire. ‘That clear enough for you?’

  The barman arrived carrying three pints and laid them down on the table, giving Harry back his bank card. The two men stared at the drinks, uncertainty now drawing lines of confusion across their faces.

  Harry watched as Reedy finished his own pint then reached out for one of the fresh ones in front of him. He drained it in one go, resting the empty glass back on the table barely ten seconds later.

  ‘I’ll grab a couple of extra chairs,’ Matt said, and rested his own drink and snacks on the table.

  When Matt came back, Harry took a chair, placed it next to Reedy’s left side, and sat down, leaning back with a long, back-creaking stretch.

  ‘Thanks for the drink,’ Reedy said, for the first time turning to look at Harry. ‘Much appreciated.’

  ‘Well, there’s no point in being rude now, is there?’ Harry said. ‘And I was just coming over to introduce myself, that’s all. Get my face around, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Face like yours isn’t exactly difficult to forget,’ said the man who had just told Harry to piss off. Harry stared at him over his own drink before reaching for his packet of crisps and opening it, taking a nice handful and stuffing them into his mouth, all the time never letting his eyes drop, or blink.

  The other man laughed, but the sound of it soon died, and he sunk the rest of his pint, dropping his eyes from Harry.

  ‘So,’ Harry said, ‘how’s about we all start with our names first, eh? How does that sound? My name’s Grimm. Harry Grimm. No, sorry, DCI Harry Grimm. The face makes it easier to remember, I think, seeing as how I look like my name. It’s not something I did on purpose, but it comes in surprisingly useful. The ultimate poker face you might say.’

  ‘DCI?’ Reedy said. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to harass us now, would you, Mr Policeman?’

  Harry ate more crisps, this time as loudly as he could.

  ‘I don’t think buying someone a drink can be regarded as harassment, do you?’ Harry glanced over to Matt. ‘What do you think, detective constable? Is buying beer a crime at all?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of, no,’ Matt replied, popping a peanut in his mouth before chomping into his pickled egg. ‘I think it’s more generally regarded as being a nice thing to do. A very nice thing to do, actually. And usually gratefully received.’

  ‘Really, now? Is that so? You hear that, gentlemen? It was a nice thing to do! Isn’t that just wonderful?’

  Reedy turned to Matt who had parked himself at the man’s other side. ‘This your new boss, then, is it?’

  ‘He doesn’t think so,’ Matt said, finishing off his egg, his eyes on Reedy.

  ‘You ever find out what happened to the last one?’

  Harry spotted something scratch its way across Matt’s generally genial, friendly demeanour, and a dark shadow flitted in his eyes.

  ‘Not yet, no,’ Matt said, his voice quieter than before, his eyes on Reedy. ‘But we will.’

  Harry finished his crisps then spent a few seconds quickly folding the packet into a little triangle, before popping it onto the table in front of them.

  ‘Right then, I’m looking for a friend of yours,’ Harry said, his attention now fully on Reedy. It was all he could do to not reach out and just yank the stupidly unnecessary sunglasses from off his face. ‘Nick Ellis.’

  Reedy, Harry saw, remained calm, but the other two looked suddenly just a little on edge.

  ‘He in some kind of trouble, then?’ Reedy asked.

  ‘That’s what we need to find out,’ Harry answered. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve seen him at all?’

  ‘Can’t say that we have.’

  ‘And you’re sure about that, are you?’

  ‘Must be if I said it.’

  Reedy said nothing more as the man sat opposite Harry, and on Matt’s right side, took a deep pull on his drink, then stood up, before heading off towards the toilets.

  Harry reached for a beer mat, pulled a pen from a pocket, then wrote down a number. ‘Well, if you do hear from him or see him, can you give him this number, please, and tell him to give me a call?’

  Reedy ignored the beermat.

  Harry reached for the beermat and placed it in front of Reedy’s face. ‘That number look readable to you?’

  ‘Just about,’ Reedy said.

  ‘You’re sure now?’ Harry asked, and moved the beermat in just a little further, forcing Reedy to lean his head back a way. ‘I wouldn’t want to think I’d written something down you couldn’t then read.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s clear,’ Reedy said.

  ‘Well, that’s good then,’ Harry said. ‘So, if you wouldn’t mind?’

  Reedy didn’t respond, so Harry once again moved the beermat close to the man’s face, this time to touch the end of his nose.

  With a huff, Reedy snatched the beermat from Harry’s hand and stuffed it into a pocket.

  Harry stood up, with a nod to Matt to follow suit. Then, before they moved away from the table, Harry rested his right hand on Reedy’s shoulder, squeezed it just hard enough to make him flinch, and leaned in real close. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he said. ‘I’ll be making sure everyone knows how helpful you were.’

  Reedy turned and Harry saw a faint crackle of fear at the corner of the man’s eyes, just visible at the edge of his sunglasses. If he’d managed to unsettle him, Harry thought, then at least there was a chance that he would pause on supplying the cannabis to kids, so that was something. And he might even flush Nick out from wherever he was holed up.

  ‘Come on then,’ Harry said, standing up, tapping Reedy on his shoulder in friendly fashion, ‘best we be off.’

  Matt rose to his feet and followed Harry to the door, but before they got there, Harry said, ‘You see where that other one went?’

  ‘Toilets I think,’ Matt said.

  Harry wasn’t so sure. ‘Seemed to suddenly need it didn’t he, after I mentioned Nick . . .’

  Matt glanced over to the other side of the pub, to the toilets. ‘What are you thinking?’

  Harry rubbed his forehead. He was tired. It was late. He needed to get some sleep. And he knew he wasn’t getting any soon. Then, through the windows in the pub door, he saw a flash of movement. It was someone running across the village green.

  Harry pushed through the door and out into the fresh air. ‘Nick?’

  The man turned mid-run and on sight of Harry almost tripped over.

  ‘Nick! Stop!’

  Harry was running before he even realised he was moving. Then the sudden burst of movement caught up with him, with the sensation of his supper swilling around in his stomach, as his feet pounded on the ground.

  Matt was on Harry’s heels and they made chase.

  ‘Where the hell is he going?’ Harry hissed out between hard, painful breaths.

  Harry saw Nick disappear down a small lane, the darkness of the evening skulking in it. He followed, his lungs burning, legs feeling the pain of trying to run in shoes de
signed for a nice, casual stroll, not a race.

  ‘Footpath ahead,’ Matt said, ‘I’ll see if I can cut him off.’

  With that, Matt skidded to a halt and took another path, which led down between two quaint little cottages.

  Harry did his best to maintain his pace. Nick wasn’t getting away, but neither was he getting any closer.

  The darkness of the lane closed in. Harry’s throat was burning now and he hacked up a glob of phlegm and spat. He felt sick, dizzy with the chase, but if Nick was running, then there had to be a reason for it and he wanted to find out exactly what that was.

  Nick was only about twenty metres away and Harry watched the man, who looked skinny as a runner bean, leap over a style in the wall, and on into a field beyond.

  Harry got to the style a few seconds later, decided against going for the jump, squeezed through, and continued on.

  Sheep scattered and the moon was high now, though the night still wasn’t full dark.

  Harry’s feet slipped and he only just managed to catch himself from losing his footing and ending up on his arse.

  A shout from ahead and Harry saw Matt hammering his way across the field from another direction, and on seeing him, Nick changed route, heaving a right to head off the path and across the field.

  ‘Nick! It’s Matt! Stop running, you mad sod! We just need to talk! Stop!’

  But Nick wasn’t going to stop, that much Harry was sure about, though he was slowing now, and he was gaining on him, which actually rather surprised him, considering how his own attempt at getting back into running as a keep fit activity was actually going.

  Harry coughed, managed to dig just a little bit deeper, imagined that he was somehow managing to dump fuel into his muscles to burn, and that’s why they were on fire right now, because they were working hard, and Harry wasn’t going to stop, not this close, not a chance . . .

  Nick tripped. Harry watched as the man cartwheeled through the air, arms and legs flailing, his voice letting out the cry of a frightened animal, then he slammed into the ground face first.

  Harry and Nick arrived together, both sucking in great lungful’s of air.

  ‘Seriously, Nick,’ Matt said, leaning forwarded, his hands braced against his knees, ‘the hell did you think you were going, anyway?’

  Nick tried to get up and flopped back down into the grass, but then Harry stepped in close and gave him a helping hand. The man struggled to both stand up and, at the same time, get away, but it was no good; Harry’s grip was of iron.

  ‘You can’t arrest me!’ Nick yelled. ‘I’ve not done nowt, I tell you! Nowt at all!’

  Harry ignored the double negative. ‘I’m not arresting you,’ he said. ‘But if you run again, trust me, I bloody well will do!’

  Again, Nick tried to pull away.

  ‘Matt?’ Harry managed to say, his breath not coming easy to him still.

  Matt leaned in to help. ‘Come on, Nick,’ he said, ‘we just want to have a chat, that’s all, okay?’

  ‘I didn’t know he was dead! I didn’t! And I didn’t do it! I’m not lying! I’m not! You’ve got to believe me! He was dead when I got there!’

  ‘Come on,’ Harry said, a yawn cutting through his urge to throw up. He turned Nick around to face back the way they had come, and with Matt having a tight hold of him at the other side, started to walk them all back towards Reeth.

  The journey back to Hawes didn’t take long. Not just because Matt raced along the lanes like an idiot, but because Harry was so tired that he soon nodded off, his head ricocheting off the window in the passenger door with a dull thud, and the rattling heater between him and Matt turning the Land Rover cabin unnecessarily toasty and warm. It brought back memories of his para life, thundering along in the back of a truck, his body suffering from levels of exhaustion he never thought possible. They were good days, Harry thought to himself, and with that his eyes closed, and he was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘So if I’m not under arrest, then why am I here? And it’s a bit bloody late, like, isn’t it?’

  Harry looked at his own watch. Nick had a point. It was nearly ten thirty. And here they were, him, Matt and Nick, sitting down around a table in the police office at the Hawes Community Centre, helping themselves to a plate of chocolate bourbons. Three mugs of tea also sat on the table, but they were still too hot to enjoy.

  ‘You ran off,’ Harry said. ‘If you hadn’t, if you’d just come in for a chat, we could have got this over and done with at the pub. So we’re here, right now, because of you.’

  ‘You can’t blame me!’

  ‘I’m not blaming you,’ Harry said. ‘I’m just stating a fact. You ran off. We persuaded you to stop doing exactly that. And now we’re here.’

  ‘I didn’t know who you were!’ Nick said. ‘And you didn’t persuade me about anything, did you? You just ran out of the pub and charged at me!’

  Harry sighed. ‘You were running already. I made chase.’

  ‘You charged at me!’ Nick shouted, repeating himself. ‘That face was like the devil coming at me! I was scared for my life!’

  ‘And why would that be?’ Matt asked, jumping in.

  ‘You could’ve been robbers!’

  Harry coughed on his biscuit and turned an eye to Matt. ‘Did he really just use the word robbers?’

  ‘I believe he did that,’ Matt said. Then, to Nick, ‘You’ve still not told us why you were running to begin with. Or to where. It’s not like you live in Reeth, is it? So why were you over there?’

  Harry tried his tea. It stung his mouth, but not enough to stop him taking a gulp. ‘Look at it from our point of view, Nick,’ he began. ‘You find John dead, and you do the right thing and call it in. Then we hear that you’ve done a runner, but not only that, we hear as well that you didn’t just find John in the field, did you? No. You received a text from him, which we all know is pretty hard for someone to do if they’re actually dead. And John was a little more than just dead. It’s now taken us all day and most of the evening to find you. And when we eventually did, through luck more than anything, you hot-footed it out of there and tried to run off! If you were wanting to give us the impression that something is a little amiss, then you did a bloody good job!’

  There was something else Harry wanted to ask Nick as well, about what Bill had said he’d seen on Saturday morning, but he was saving that for now. Didn’t want to spook him too early.

  ‘Suspicious, that,’ Matt muttered. ‘Very, very suspicious indeed.’

  ‘You can’t think it was me!’ Nick said, panic in his voice. ‘I already said I didn’t do it! I didn’t! I couldn’t have! And I wouldn’t have, neither!’

  Harry leaned forward to rest his hands on the table. ‘If that’s so, then why didn’t you just come in and tell us? I’d have forgiven you being a bit spooked and nicking off for a while if you’d have come back. But you didn’t, did you? And from what I can tell, you had no intention of ever doing so. Running away is not the best way to make a good impression with the police!’

  ‘Still not shown us that phone of yours either, have you?’ Matt added. ‘Why’s that, then?’

  Nick, Harry could see, was displaying all the behaviour of a trapped animal. Part of him wanted to see what would happen if they really pushed him, but he wasn’t quite sure right there and then that it was the best approach.

  ‘Look,’ Harry said, working hard to look relaxed and unthreatening, which wasn’t all that easy with a face from Hell and a voice that even when it was being friendly came across a little like the rough growl of a bear with a sore head, ‘we just need your help, Nick, that’s all, okay? The last thing you want is to be caught up in something that has nothing to do with you, right? You found your friend dead, and I understand that’s difficult to deal with, I really do. I’ve been there, I know.’

  At this, Harry saw Nick visibly relax. They had a connection now. That was good. ‘You’re worried about showing us your phone, right? Well, how’s abo
ut DC Dinsdale and I promise that we won’t go snooping around? In fact, all I actually want to see is the text that you received, and the number. How does that sound? Actually, you know what? Don’t even give us the phone! Just show us the text, the time you received it, the number, and we’re good. How’s that for a start? Make you feel any happier?’

  Nick took a nibble from a biscuit. From outside the building came the sound of laughter, voices rolling along the road between pubs, Harry guessed, folk out enjoying themselves, blissfully unaware of the darker goings on being dealt with just a few steps away from them behind closed doors.

  ‘It’s got private stuff on it, that’s all,’ Nick said, pulling out his phone. ‘And I’m a private person, you see? You can understand that, right?’

  ‘Aren’t we all, Nick?’ Harry said, putting his hands out as though by doing so he was lumping them altogether as one.

  Nick’s fingers danced around on his phone for a few seconds, then he turned it around and showed Harry and Matt the screen.

  ‘That’s what I got,’ Nick said, pointing a thin, bony finger, which resembled a sun-bleached twig, at the screen. ‘And that’s the number there, see?’

  Both Harry and Matt jotted the number down quickly, and the message.

  ‘And that’s all you got?’ Matt asked. ‘Nothing else? No other messages?’

  Nick gave a nod. ‘Got it early morning. Woke me up.’

  Harry asked, ‘And what time was that?’

  ‘Says on the message,’ Nick said. ‘Seven fifteen.’

  ‘And where were you when you received it?’ Harry asked again, trying to keep Nick moving now, not wanting to give him chance to stop and think.

  ‘Home,’ Nick replied, pulling his phone back and stuffing it back into a pocket.

  ‘He lives just of Brunt Acres Road,’ Matt explained. ‘On the road out towards Hardraw.’