‘Exactly,’ Harry said. ‘So what’s that crossed out bit? All a bit too mysterious if you ask me. Come on. And bring that file with you.’
Harry was out of the Land Rover and striding across the car park to the main reception. Inside, he walked up to the main desk, pushing himself ahead of the not insubstantial queue, immediately aware that a cloud of muttered curses was now snapping at his heels.
‘I’m DCI Grimm,’ Harry said to the man on the reception desk, flashing his ID. ‘I need to see Doctor Smith, urgently.’
‘Then you’ll wait patiently like everyone else,’ said the receptionist, a man whose ginger hair was edging towards bright orange, his face a picture of forced, practised politeness.
‘I’m not here to make an appointment,’ Harry replied. ‘This is police business.’
‘And this is a doctor’s surgery and as you can see there are plenty of people here already who are ill and need to see a doctor. Are you ill?’
‘No,’ Harry said, then quickly changed his mind. ‘Actually, yes, I am. Terribly so, in fact.’
‘You don’t look ill. Sweaty, yes, but not ill.’
‘Oh, I am,’ Harry said. ‘Horribly. Violently even.’
‘He is,’ Jim said, leaning in around Harry. ‘This is pretty urgent.’
‘You’ll have to wait,’ the receptionist said.
Harry gagged, then coughed, then fell forwards just enough to slap his hands loudly on the reception desk. ‘I can’t wait,’ he groaned. ‘If I don’t see Doctor Smith right now, then I won’t be responsible for the mess.’
The receptionist, for the first time, looked unsure.
‘I’ll paint the place,’ Harry said, groaning even louder than before, waving his hands at the walls rather expressively. ‘It’ll be everywhere! From both ends. The mess will be something to remember for generations! Hurry, man!’
The receptionist was on the phone immediately.
Harry groaned, gagged, groaned some more.
‘I’d hurry if I were you,’ Jim suggested.
‘Through the doors, follow the signs,’ the receptionist said, dropping the phone down and sliding his chair away from Harry and Jim. ‘That way!’
Harry offered a polite thank you and, with the rest of the surgery behind them rising in indignation, disappeared through the doors and onto find Doctor Smith.
‘Here,’ Jim said, pointing at a sign on the wall.
Harry followed and they came to a door partially open with the doctor’s name on it. He didn’t knock. ‘Doctor Smith?’
Inside the room, Doctor Smith, his shiny head reflecting in the cold, white light from the bulbs in the ceiling, was in the middle of getting his things together to leave.
‘I was told this was an emergency?’ the doctor said, and Harry caught the irritation in his voice. ‘That you’re very ill? I have another call to attend to I’m afraid. I can spare you a minute or two at best.’
Harry sat down and smiled. ‘Well, I’m not ill,’ he said. ‘But I’m a very good actor.’
The doctor didn’t look exactly impressed. ‘Look, I can’t just have you barge in! I’m not being rude, I promise, it’s just that police or not, it’s not fair on everyone else, is it? Can you come back later? I should be able to find some time at the end of the day. I’m assuming this is about the thing on Monday?’ He checked his watch. ‘Look, I really need to get going.’
Harry sat forward, folded his hands together, and stared across at the doctor. ‘This is urgent,’ he said. ‘And we really need your help. It can’t wait. I’m sorry. Two minutes, that’s all we need.’
Doctor Smith leaned across his desk. ‘I’m not sure what else I can help you with or about,’ he said. ‘You got the files I sent through, yes?’
‘PCSO Dinsdale here shared them with me,’ Harry said, ‘but it’s not about that.’
‘Then what is it about?’
Harry quickly explained as much as he could, then took the file from Jim and opened it at the page with the section that had been scribbled out.
‘What am I looking at exactly?’ the doctor asked, peering at the page in front of him.
‘These are school files,’ Harry said. ‘Logbooks, from the primary school at the end of town. And we have reason to believe that something happened on this date and I need to know what it is.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I do,’ Harry said. ‘Can you help?’
‘I’m not sure how.’
‘We think an accident might have happened,’ Jim said. ‘Thought here would be the best place to start.’
‘But that’s over forty years ago!’ the doctor exclaimed, glancing at his watch once again. ‘I mean, yes, we have records, but that’s asking an awful lot! Surely the school is the best place to find out rather than here?’
‘Already tried that,’ Jim said. ‘You’re looking at all the information the head teacher had available.’
Doctor Smith stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of his door. ‘Look, I have to go. Have a word with reception. Someone there will be able to help you, I’m sure.’
‘Emergency call out, is it?’ Harry asked.
Doctor Smith shook his head. ‘No, but it doesn’t do to be late. One of my regulars, you see. They can’t get down to the surgery, and sometimes, if there’s no one available to collect them and bring them in, I pop out to see them myself.’
‘That’s very good of you,’ Harry said, impressed.
‘I’m a doctor,’ the doctor said. ‘It’s my job.’
Harry and Jim followed Doctor Smith out of his room and through to reception.
‘Ah, Greg,’ the doctor said, leaning over to speak with the receptionist. ‘Can you help these two gentlemen, please?’
The receptionist looked over at Harry and Jim, barely able to conceal his irritation.
‘Yes, of course. If they would be so kind as to wait?’
‘No,’ Harry said, ‘we wouldn’t.’
The doctor then said, ‘And could you just grab me that prescription, please? Iveson.’
Harry snapped around to look at the doctor. ‘Who’s that you’re seeing again?’
‘Jack Iveson,’ the doctor replied. ‘Why?’
Harry looked across at Jim, then eyeballed the doctor. ‘He around the same age as John Capstick?’
‘Year younger I believe,’ the doctor said. ‘Why?’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Harry said, then looked at the receptionist. ‘Greg, you’re going to help PCSO Dinsdale, okay? Jim, as soon as you find anything out, you call me, understand?’
Jim gave a short nod. Greg managed to make his already furious face look even more angry. Then, before the doctor could argue, Harry was hurrying him towards the surgery door.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘You can’t just come with me!’ Doctor Smith said, staring at Harry through the open window of the Land Rover’s driver’s door. ‘A patient needs privacy. I can’t allow it!’
‘Look,’ Harry said, slipping the key into the slot and starting the engine, ‘I only want to speak to him, okay? So, you do your doctor thing, then I’ll do our police thing, simple as that. He will probably have been contacted by one of the team anyway, so he won’t too surprised.’
‘He’s rather ill,’ the doctor said, somewhat abruptly. ‘I’m not sure he’ll be able to cope.’
‘Hey, I know my face is pretty bad,’ Harry said, ‘but I don’t think I’ve managed to kill anyone just by looking at them so far. I mean, I’ve tried to, yes, and I’ve wanted to be able to on a number of occasions, but it’s never actually happened. Yet.’
Harry could tell that the doctor just wasn’t convinced. And in Harry’s mind that at least showed that he was someone who took his job seriously and who cared about his patients.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Harry said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.’
‘Fine,’ the doctor replied. ‘Follow me, then. It’s not far. I’ll go in, complete my visit, then let
Jack know that you’re there, too, and invite you in. How’s that sound?’
‘Just peachy,’ Harry said.
With the doctor heading over to his car, Harry punched in a quick call to Matt.
‘Yes, Boss?’
‘I’ve found Jack Iveson,’ Harry said. ‘Anyone spoken to him yet?’
‘Let me just check . . . Yes, and he’s happy to speak to someone. Jenny was going to head out there in a minute or two.’
‘She doesn’t need to,’ Harry said. ‘I’m on my way there now. He’s a patient of the good doctor, but then I suppose everyone around here is, right?’
‘Jim going with you?’
‘No, he’s staying at the surgery, trying to dig a bit to see if he can find anything about that date. Any news on the others?’
‘Yes, actually,’ Matt said. ‘Gordy and Jaydn are heading out to bring them in for a chat.’
‘Even Nick?’
‘Amazingly, yes,’ Matt said. ‘Though he didn’t exactly sound too happy about it. We’ve commandeered a couple of extra rooms here so we should be fine to see folk without it getting too busy, you know, maintain privacy as well.’
‘Right, I’ll be in touch,’ Harry said, but Matt interrupted.
‘We’ve got a bit of a problem, though, Boss.’
‘What? What problem?’
Harry didn’t need more problems. Two murders was plenty enough to be getting on with.
‘We’ve had a few people knocking on the door, asking what’s going on. And by a few people I pretty much mean angry hordes.’
‘Well tell them to bugger off!’ Harry said. ‘By which I mean, inform them that the police are working hard, blah blah blah, okay?’
‘I’m not sure that’s going to work,’ Matt said. ‘Word spreads quickly round here. I don’t think Swift’s statement to the press yesterday did much good.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Harry asked. ‘Is it just a few concerned citizens or what?’
‘Or what,’ Matt said, and Harry heard the sigh in the man’s voice, a mix of annoyance and despair. ‘They want to know how we’re keeping them safe. Some are saying that they’re too scared to leave their own house. I’ve even had one or two tell me they’re going to sleep with their shotguns under the beds. Others are just a little bit too keen to get out there and see if they can find the person responsible themselves.’
‘Brilliant,’ Harry moaned, his mind suddenly filled with images of gangs of locals driving around the lanes in their four-wheel drives, all armed with shotguns. ‘That’s all we need. A nice bit of panic.’
‘What should I do?’
‘Right now, nothing,’ Harry instructed. ‘Just keep an eye on things. Calm people down. Reassure them. Smile. Actually, don’t smile. Won’t look good to have the police smiling in the middle of a murder investigation.’
‘Will do, boss,’ Matt agreed.
Harry then hung up, as just ahead of him, he watched the doctor pull out in his smart looking vehicle and head off out of the car park.
Harry rolled the Land Rover out onto the road and up behind the doctor, following him left out of the surgery and up out of Hawes, passing the auction mart on his right. A mile or so out of Hawes, the doctor turned right and Harry recognised where he was, as he followed on up a hill into the small village of Burtersett. The weather had eased, Harry was pleased to see, but the Land Rover still felt skittish on the slick wet roads, drifting just a little too much around corners, and forcing him to swear as they continued onwards, and to grip the steering wheel more than a little tightly.
Out of Burtersett, the doctor sped on. Harry followed him up onto the fells, across the junction with the old Roman road, then on and down towards Semerwater. Seeing the lake come into view, Harry was swept back a few weeks to his first investigation in the dale, which had started as a missing persons and then tragically turned into a murder, the body found on its shore. But the lake brought another memory, too, one of being the coldest he had ever been in his entire life, having for some mad reason persuaded himself to have a go at wild swimming, after talking to a couple of the witnesses, who had been in the lake at the time. Looking at it now, though, he wasn’t so sure he fancied going back in any time soon. The lake was a black hole under a brooding sky, and it didn’t exactly look welcoming. It was an unnerving thing to see from on high, Harry thought, as he followed the doctor down the road towards the lake, almost giving him vertigo, the odd feeling that at any point he could be sucked down into it and into oblivion.
Ahead, instead of going to the lake, the doctor turned right and onto Marsett Lane, which clung to the side of the hill, Semerwater visible down to Harry’s left. The road was narrow and in places puddles had worked together to turn into localised floods blocking the way ahead. Harry was pleased that he wasn’t in his own car as he was pretty sure it wouldn’t have made it through some of them. But for the doctor’s Discovery and Harry’s Police Land Rover, a bit of water wasn’t a problem.
A few minutes later, and with Semerwater now having disappeared behind them, Harry followed the doctor into the village of Marsett. To Harry, though, the place looked nothing like a village at all, but more like a sprawling farm. On the village green, if it could be called such, were parked three tractors, all pulling different types of machinery, and Harry hadn’t the faintest idea what any of them were for. Farm buildings and large barns seemed to be as much a part of the village as the few stone houses Harry could see. In front of him the road split, leading left and right, and there was also a red telephone box next to a noticeboard. The doctor took the righthand lane and eventually pulled up next to a small house with a blue door. Harry eased in behind.
‘I’ll come and get you when I’m done,’ the doctor called over to Harry. ‘Shouldn’t be too long.’
‘What’s actually wrong with him?’ Harry asked.
‘Diabetes,’ the doctor replied. ‘It’s one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen. He’s not been best at looking after himself and it’s progressed to neuropathic damage, so he can’t walk, though I think there’s a part of him that won’t walk as well. So he’s been getting sores, from not moving enough.’
‘Sounds lovely,’ Harry said. ‘Just come and get me when you’re done.’
With the doctor gone, Harry had a few moments to himself. The Land Rover was warm from the journey, the rattling heater having done its best to bake him alive and deafen him at the same time. Outside, there was a hint of rain in the air, so Harry decided against going for a walk.
Leaning forward onto the steering wheel to rest his chin on his folded arms, Harry thought back over everything that had happened since Monday, the murders, the scant evidence. The thought that someone was out there hunting down a group of adults who used to be in a gang at school struck him as beyond bizarre. Something had triggered it, of that he was certainly, and his gut was telling him that once that trigger was found, then the identity of the killer would be revealed. Did it have something to do with that scribbled out incident in the school logbook? If it did, what kind of incident could be so bad as to cause what was happening now? Revenge was one thing, but revenge lasting all the way back to the school playground? That was something Harry had never come across in his life before. But there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?
A sound trilled into Harry’s thoughts and it took him a second or two to realise it was his phone, which had somehow slipped from his pocket and was in the passenger footwell. He reached over, grabbed it, and answered.
‘Grimm.’
‘It’s DSI Firbank,’ came the reply. ‘This won’t take long because I haven’t got long. Can you talk?’
Harry stared out of the windscreen to where the doctor had walked but there was no sign of him coming out yet. ‘Yes, I can speak. I’m assuming this is about Ben.’
‘It is, yes,’ the DSI replied. ‘First, Ben is safe, I want you to know that, and it’s why I’m calling you myself. He is safe, Harry. Is that clear? Do you understand those
words? You need to.’
‘Crystal,’ Harry replied, already wondering why the DSI was laying it on so thick.
‘Good, because it needs to be as what I’m about to tell you is confidential.’
Harry didn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘Confidential? But I’m his brother! His only blood relative other than our dad, and that bastard doesn’t count, does he?’
‘Ben has been moved,’ the DSI said, ignoring Harry’s protestations. ‘Based on the information you gave me, a threat was identified. Because of this, and also because of who you are and what your father is known to be involved with, Ben has now been taken to an undisclosed location.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘It means, Grimm, that you are not to know where your brother is, for now, anyway. It’s too dangerous, for him, for you.’
‘What?’ Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How the hell was he supposed to be a big brother, to look after his little brother, if he didn’t even know where Ben was? It made no sense! ‘You can’t do that!’ he shouted. ‘I need to know. I have to!’
‘It’s not actually my decision,’ the DSI said. ‘Ben doesn’t even know where he is. And, not only that, we’ve given him a new identity. Nothing too difficult to remember, so he should be fine. But right now, where he is, his identity, everything, is classified.’
Harry laughed, the sound cold and hard. ‘Classified? This is starting to sound a little James Bond if you ask me. What the hell’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?’
‘I’m not telling you what I can’t tell you, Grimm,’ the DSI said. ‘Ben is safe. And right now, that should be your only consideration. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to be getting on with, as I’m sure you do, too.’
‘He’s my brother!’ Harry yelled. ‘You don’t get to keep anything to do with him a secret from me! You can’t!’
‘I can, Harry,’ the DSI said. ‘I’m sorry, but I can, and I have to. Goodbye.’
The line went dead.
Harry threw his phone down hard hoping that it would smash into a thousand pieces. It didn’t. Instead, it sort of just landed with a dull metallic thump and then started playing some annoying music. And, as he went to reach down to pick it up, movement caught Harry’s eye. Sitting back up, Harry found himself staring at the shambling figure of the doctor, stumbling towards him, blood streaming down his face and soaking into his jacket.
Best Served Cold: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel Page 18