Snakes in the Grass (A DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thriller Book 5)

by Oliver Davies

  Epilogue

  The rain had eased off by the time I was done relating the story, but it still pattered against the windows in half-hearted flurries. I’d gotten up to fetch myself and Liam’s father, Douglas, fresh cups of tea half-way through, and the plate of brownies had mysteriously disappeared, a smear of chocolate left at the corner of Liam’s mouth. My wife had returned home, too, though I didn’t remember when exactly she’d come in, and I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, starting our tea.

  Liam leaned back against the sofa, reaching up to stretch his arms before he yawned widely.

  “That was brilliant, Mr Mitchell,” he said. “Really good.”

  “Lad’s right,” Douglas agreed. “You had me fearing that your boss wasn’t going to make it.”

  “It was tight,” I said, my mouth twisting.

  “Could I talk to him? Your old boss?” Liam looked at me hopefully.

  “Afraid not, lad. He passed away a decade ago.”

  “Oh.” Liam’s face fell, but he wasn’t deterred for long. “What about Abe Muldoon? The man who was falsely accused?”

  “I, well, I have no idea about him,” I said, surprised at the question, though I should have guessed that Liam wouldn’t miss a detail, nor a chance to liven up his article further. “You’d have to search him out, I suppose.” I sent a look to Douglas, who looked faintly resigned. No doubt he’d end up helping his son track the bloke down. It was hard to say ‘no’ to the lad when he had a mind to something.

  “Did he go back to his wife?”

  “You’d have to ask him that,” I said with a shrug. “I’m afraid we don’t get to follow up every case like that.”

  “But the killer went to prison, right? Arnott?”

  “Oh aye, kid, we made sure of that. He got put away for several life sentences.”

  “Is he still there?”

  I rubbed my chin and looked sideways at Douglas, but he didn’t seem too worried by the thread of the conversation. Sometimes I worried that I might tell the lad things that’d give him nightmares, or were too grown-up for his age, but Liam had never seemed bothered or upset by it. As long as his father thought it was alright for him to hear, I was willing to tell him. Kids always knew more than you’d think, anyway.

  “I believe I heard that he died in prison,” I said. “A couple of years back now. I can’t say I was sorry to hear it.”

  Liam nodded as he made notes, his fingers tapping away at the keys at incredible speed.

  “Did you teach him to type like that?” I asked Douglas while Liam was busy.

  “Ah, I showed him the basics, I guess.” He gave an amiable shrug. “But he’s the one who’s flown with it. He’s already got a typing speed that’d put receptionists to shame.”

  “I can believe it,” I said warmly. Douglas was obviously proud of his kid, and it was good to see.

  Liam looked up after a short while, his mouth open to ask another question, before he got distracted by the last square of brownie on the plate I’d brought and sent it a longing look.

  “Oh, go on, kiddo,” Douglas sighed, before looking at me. “If you don’t mind, that is, Mr Mitchell?”

  “Darren, please,” I corrected, not for the first time. I waved a hand at the plate. “I brought them in for you to eat.”

  Once Liam had permission from both of us, he happily dived into the last piece, nibbling eagerly round the edges.

  “His mother won’t be best pleased,” Douglas chuckled.

  “Because he won’t want his dinner?”

  He sent me a crooked grin. “No, she’ll want to know why we didn’t bring her back any.”

  “Oh, if that’s the problem, there’s plenty more,” I said, laughing. “You’d be more than welcome to take them off our hands. I can’t get away with the treats like I used to.”

  “You’re telling me, mate,” Douglas said with feeling, patting his stomach.

  Liam had begun to look impatient, fidgeting again, and it was clear he wanted to ask something.

  “Go on, lad,” I prompted, hiding my amusement. Once I’d met him a couple of times, the kid had become easy to read. His energy was infectious.

  “Well, I was thinking, what about the dog?”

  “The dog?”

  “Yeah, Mr Gaskell’s dog, the one who ran off, you know, on the video. People will want to know that she was okay.” He looked at me earnestly. “She was, wasn’t she?”

  I made a mental note that Liam clearly had a soft spot when it came to dogs, or maybe pets in general, and I’d have to make sure I didn’t give him any stories that’d upset him in the future. I was glad that I’d be able to set his mind at rest, at least for now.

  “The pup was fine,” I said. “She turned up at a rescue centre about a week later. A touch worse for wear, but Gaskell fed her up well, I’m sure.”

  “Oh good,” Liam said absently, making another note. “And what about Sam?”

  “What about her?” I tilted my head, not sure what he wanted to know.

  “Like, you didn’t fall out, did you, after that? You said you argued a bit because you jumped in the river. And your boss wouldn’t let you see each other, either.”

  “Ah.” I settled back in my chair. “No, we didn’t fall out. We talked it through and made sure we were both on the same page, no worries there, lad. And besides, with the new superintendent, we didn’t have to do so much sneaking around, which helped a fair bit.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Turns out that Gaskell had told her about Sam and me,” I said, giving a small chuckle as I remembered it. Of course, it hadn’t been funny at the time, but with hindsight, I could appreciate it. “And he’d also told her that she shouldn’t concern herself with it. That we were good workers and professionals.” I gave a small shrug, smiling slightly. “She said she had no problem with it, as long as we acted like adults.”

  “I expect that was a weight off your mind,” Douglas observed.

  “It sure was.”

  I’d never liked creeping around, not even at the start. I wasn’t one to get a thrill out of secrecy, really. I’ve always preferred to be straightforward and keeping it quiet had been wearing on me at the time. It seemed like it all happened a long while ago now, but it’d meant the world to Sam and me when it happened.

  “Well,” Douglas said, in that tone of voice that meant it was getting late. “We’d better be heading back, really, whether or not Liam is hungry for his tea.”

  “If it’s pizza, I’ll be hungry,” Liam said hopefully, making Douglas and I crack up.

  “Oh aye, that well-known second stomach,” I chuckled, “reserved especially for pizza. You two should stay for dinner sometime. Bring your mum over, too. I can make a decent homemade pizza.”

  “Yeah?” Liam said. “Can we, dad?”

  “Not tonight, kiddo, but another day, why not?” He sent me a warm smile and reached out to shake my hand. “Always a pleasure, Mr.- I mean, Darren.”

  “The same to you.” I smiled and shook his hand.

  Liam packed up his things, and my wife came out of the kitchen to wave them off with me, commenting on how tall Liam was getting all of a sudden.

  “Nice lad, isn’t he?” she said, as Liam and his father hurried through the drizzle to their car.

  “They both are. Good folks. I invited them round for dinner sometime.”

  “You did? I can expect some of your famous pizza then, hm?”

  “You know me well,” I chuckled.

  We stepped back inside and closed the door on the wet. Liam would be back soon enough, and I had plenty of time to think of another tale for him.

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