Grimm

by Mike Nicholson

  A buzz went off in Rory’s backpack as his mobile phone announced that a text had been received.

  18. Never known but never forgotten

  Can u meet me?

  Sat 1pm. Gates of

  Park St cemetery.

  Something to

  show u. B

  It hadn’t taken long for Rory to say goodbye to Stobo. The man’s monosyllabic style had not lent itself to a long drawn-out farewell. Leaving the cable car station and walking back into town he stared again at the text. The good news was that Bonnie was still communicating with him. The bad news was that visiting another graveyard wasn’t really Rory’s favoured way of spending a Saturday afternoon. However, not only had Bonnie’s view about his plan for the hotel been correct, but the last time she had asked him to look at something had led to meeting Grimson at the mural. Rory concluded that her recent track record of good judgment meant that the Park Street Cemetery had to be his next stop.

  Rory’s fear was that he would have to spend a long time reliving his disastrous meeting at Hotel Grimm, but that was short-lived. Perhaps the fact that he had greeted Bonnie by saying “You were right and I was wrong” had helped.

  “I know,” said Bonnie, sounding unsurprised and unperturbed. “Hopefully there’s not too much damage done. You’ll need to tell me everything you saw today, but in the meantime, I’ve been doing some work behind the scenes. Follow me,” she said pushing the joystick on her chair forward and buzzing off. Rory dutifully trooped along behind her.

  The gates of the cemetery led them into a narrow tree-lined road which wound its way between a series of low hills with neat rows of gravestones. Bonnie appeared to know exactly where she was headed. “It’s that one,” she said stopping abruptly at another block of stones that to Rory looked the same as all the others. “It’s the one at this end of the third row. Have a look.”

  In the silence of the graveyard, Rory stepped closer, finding that he was almost doing it on tiptoes. Not knowing why Bonnie had brought him here, Rory shivered as he approached the grave that Bonnie had pointed him towards. There were some fresh flowers on it and there was a small card pinned to them. Rory looked at the words on the stone. “Much loved daughter and sister. Died Tragically”. It was Lottie Gilchrist’s grave. For someone who had died in 1948, the gravestone looked remarkably well kept. Rory leaned in and peered closely at the card on the flowers, not wanting to pick them up and disturb the scene.

  For Auntie. Never known but never forgotten.

  DG.

  Rory tried to work out what he was seeing. “Who’s been looking after this?” he said out loud.

  “Presumably a Gilchrist,” said Bonnie. “The surname begins with G.”

  “I thought Grandad said that all of the Gilchrists moved out of town,” said Rory.

  “Maybe they come back to look after it,” said Bonnie.

  As Rory stood there pondering, the gathering breeze blew a piece of paper towards him and it stuck around his leg. Reaching down he peeled it off to find it was a page from the previous week’s Chronicle. Crumpling it up, Rory looked around for a bin and then stopped dead. The Chronicle. Edited by Derek Goodman.

  “Is this DG? Derek Goodman,” asked Rory holding up the paper and showing Bonnie.

  She looked unconvinced. “But why would Derek Goodman be calling Lottie Gilchrist “Auntie?” Surely your Grandad would have mentioned if there was a local link like that?”

  “The card says “Never known but never forgotten”,” said Rory. “Lottie Gilchrist died young, so Derek Goodman wouldn’t have known her.” He hadn’t worked it all out but something felt like it was falling into place. With determination Rory turned and began to stride back up the cemetery’s narrow road.

  “Oi, wait for me Zizz Boy,” said Bonnie, whizzing her wheelchair into life to catch up with him. “Where are you going?”

  “I think that Grandad has got a bit of explaining to do,” Rory shouted back to her. “I think he’s been playing a few cards just a little too close to his chest.” There was a hint of anger in Rory’s voice. Leaving the gates and still walking fast, Rory marched down the road away from the cemetery, crossing over the bridge before heading up the hill to the town. Oblivious to Bonnie’s cries for him to slow down, it was only as they reached Aberfintry’s main street that she managed to catch him.

  “Stop for a minute would you?” she said. “Give me a chance, Rory. Top speed on this can’t quite keep up with you when you’re in that sort of a mood.” Rory mumbled an apology as he slowed down.

  “We need to think things through properly before we speak to your Grandad,” said Bonnie. “Also, you’ve not even told me what happened this morning up at the hotel, although you’re probably avoiding that. Did it go as badly as I think it did?”

  “Sorry,” said Rory. “My head’s just spinning at the moment.” He plonked himself down on a bench and ran through the events of the morning. Bonnie was not surprised to hear Granville Grimm’s reaction but she was amazed to hear about a bathroom full of Grog’s pets, a portrait of her in Grimson’s room, and the fact that Rory had returned on the cable car. “I’ve always wanted a ride on that, right from when I was little,” she said.

  Bonnie’s voice tailed off as she looked over Rory’s shoulder with a quizzical expression. “Who is that weird looking guy?”

  A man had emerged from the library and was checking the contents of his carrier bag. As he set off walking, his limping gait was unmistakable.

  “What is he doing here?” said Rory.

  “He’s not the butler guy you’ve mentioned, is he?” asked Bonnie.

  “The one and the same,” said Rory, trying to imagine what could possibly have brought Grog into town. At that moment, there was some shouting from nearby.

  “Heh … what have we got here?”

  “I think someone … or something … has escaped from Hotel Grimm!”

  “Don’t go near … you might just drop down dead.”

  Gordon and Gracie Goodman had emerged from a side street and were approaching Grog with mischievous curiosity. At first, Grog was oblivious to comments being directed at him, but Gordon and Gracie edged closer and closer, leaving him in no doubt that he had been targetted.

  “Heh. What are you doing in our town?”

  “Yeah, get back where you belong.”

  Grog kept his head down and did his best to carry on walking. For a split second, the thought of slipping quietly away and avoiding this messy situation, passed through Rory’s mind, but he dismissed it.

  “Where is Malky Mackay when you need him?” Rory muttered, getting off the bench and jogging over to where the incident was unfolding.

  “Leave him alone you two.”

  “Watch out!” said Gracie turning round, pretending to be afraid. “Zizz Boy is here!” Gordon took a swipe at Grog’s carrier bag. It fell to the ground spilling books.

  “Oh no, you’ve dropped your things,” Gordon said with mock concern.

  He reached down and picked up a book. “Looking after Reptiles? Trying to take better care of yourself?” he mocked.

  “Leave me alone,” croaked Grog as he struggled to bend down and get the books.

  “Do as he says. Leave him alone,” said Bonnie, arriving at the scene.

  “Oh no!” said Gracie throwing her hands up in horror. “There’s two of them! Zizz Boy and The Worm. We don’t stand a chance Gordon!”

  “Find something better to do, Gracie,” said Bonnie. “What’s he done to you?”

  “He’s from up there isn’t he?” hissed Gracie Goodman. Her finger stabbed the air and pointed towards Hotel Grimm.

  “He’s got as much right to be here as you have,” retorted Bonnie.

  “Not after what that place has done,” Gracie spat back.

  Rory picked up the last of Grog’s books and helped him get them back into his bag. The man looked Rory in the eye and gave him a firm nod of thanks.

  “Why should you care anyway, Zizz Boy?”
said Gordon, turning his attention to Rory. Spotting his chance, Grog slipped quietly away.

  “He’s trying to make up for the past, isn’t he?” said Gracie.

  Rory felt the heat build in his face. Surely they didn’t know about the Zizz slogan? If the Goodman twins found out that he wasn’t responsible for that, it would be far worse than the ribbing he got for having become the Zizz Boy.

  “Gone all quiet on us now, hasn’t he,” said Gracie.

  “Got something to hide, Zizz Boy?” chipped in Gordon.

  “Come on, Rory,” said Bonnie. “Let’s not waste our time here.” She headed off giving Rory a cue to follow her. The jeers floated through the air behind them.

  “Aww … they make such a lovely couple.”

  “She’s got the brains … he’s got the … What has he got exactly?”

  “What was all that about?” asked Bonnie when they were out of earshot. “Making up for the past and having something to hide.”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Rory still prickling from the exchange. “Remember it’s Grandad who’s not been telling us everything he knows,” he added, stalking off towards Boglehole Road.

  “Bringing You The News You Need About Your Town”

  Strapline for The Chronicle

  19. Confrontation at The Chronicle

  “Keep your hair on. Keep your hair on,” said Grandad, as Rory strode into the living room at 47 Boglehole Road asking questions without giving any time for answers. Before they could go any further, they were interrupted by thumping and muffled shouting from the other side of the front door. In his desperation to interrogate his Grandad, Rory had let the front door bang shut leaving Bonnie unable to get into the house. Red-faced, Rory backtracked to let her in.

  “Imagine forgetting your partner in crime,” said Grandad with a grin.

  “We’ve not committed any crime, but we’ll have you for withholding information from the investigation,” said Rory, frustrated that his opening salvo of questions had been cut short.

  “That’s a serious charge,” said Grandad winking at Bonnie and looking for some back-up. This time she gave him nothing in support.

  “Now where were we?” said Grandad. “Oh aye. You were standing in front of me having completely lost the plot. I hope you’re going to be a bit calmer second time round. I suggest you just give me one question at a time and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Rory took a deep breath, which was the only gap that Bonnie needed to beat him to it. “Why are there fresh flowers on Lottie Gilchrist’s grave? Was she Derek Goodman’s Auntie? Are the initials ‘DG’ for Derek Goodman or is there some Gilchrist in town we didn’t know about?”

  “Och, don’t you start!” said Grandad. “I might just put my head under my blanket and hope that you’ll go away! What is this all about? Where have you two just come from?”

  “We’ve just been to Park Street Cemetery,” said Bonnie.

  “You pair know how to have a good time, don’t you? Aren’t kids like you supposed to be playing with computers or vandalizing bus shelters or something?”

  “Come on, Grandad,” said Rory. “Quit the smart comments and just give us some answers. Lottie Gilchrist. Who was she? I mean who might she have become? I mean …”

  “What are you talking about?” said Grandad.

  Rory explained about Lottie’s grave, the flowers, the note and the initials “DG.”

  “Right … I’m with you now. The Gilchrists did move away decades ago, so the initials are nothing to do with them. But Detectives McKenna and O’Donnell are correct in making a link to Derek Goodman.”

  “I knew it!” said Rory clapping his hands together as Bonnie gave an appreciative nod. “What’s the connection?” she said.

  “Well, if you give me a minute, I’m coming to that.” Grandad heaved himself to get more upright in his seat. “Hunter Goodman, who used to manage The Chronicle by the way, married a woman called Nancy Gilchrist and they had a son, called Derek.”

  “So who was Lottie Gilchrist?” asked Bonnie.

  “Nancy’s twin sister. They were identical and very close. In fact, Nancy never really got over the death of her sister. She died just a few years later and everyone said it was from a broken heart.”

  “So that means that Derek Goodman, or ‘DG,’ lost his mum when he was young because his Aunt Lottie that he never knew died in that accident,” said Rory. “You could have told us that, Grandad.”

  “I didn’t think it mattered that much,” said Grandad, “I can’t see what you’re trying to prove, Rory.”

  Bonnie piped up. “Well if Derek Goodman is still leaving flowers to this day on the grave of a woman he never knew it’s obviously important to him. If he thinks that someone, or something like Hotel Grimm, is to blame for that fact …”

  “Then who knows what kind of stuff he is going to write about them?” said Rory completing the thought.

  Grandad wasn’t keen on the idea, but Rory and Bonnie reckoned it had to be the next step, and a simple call set up an immediate appointment at The Chronicle’s office.

  “I’m sorry,” said Rory to Bonnie after he put the phone down. “I can picture the place. It’s upstairs.”

  “That’s rubbish,” she said. “I think I’ll write a letter of complaint to the paper. Do you think they’ll print it?” she asked with a mischievous grin.

  After parting company with Bonnie, Rory considered how ironic it was that the history of Hotel Grimm was so closely linked to the paper. The Chronicle declared every week that it wanted the place closed but it seemed that the paper would be a bit lost without its favourite front page story. If the hotel ever did close, maybe The Chronicle would need to look at its own rebranding, Rory thought ruefully. Turning the last corner, he bumped straight into his mother.

  “Rory! Fancy meeting you here,” said Momo, flapping in the usual flurry of baggy coloured clothes and jewellery that could double as percussion instruments.

  “Hi Mum, what are you doing here?” said Rory.

  “Well, I’ve just been at The Chronicle seeing if they would do a feature on my next exhibition. I must say Derek Goodman was charming and I think he’s going to be very supportive. It’s all very exciting Rory. It’s called “Half Measures”. You see, imagine if …”

  “Er … actually, Mum, I’ve got to go The Chronicle too, and I don’t want to be late.”

  “Now you see, Rory, this is a bit of what ‘Half Measures’ is about. We are all in such a rush these days that we need to slow down a bit. We’ll get twice as much back you know!”

  “Yeah, okay,” said Rory, “But right now I really am in a rush. Maybe see you later?”

  “I’ll be at the studio later, but there’s stuff in the fridge for tea.” Rory sometimes had difficulty making out if the fridge contents were to be eaten or were some of his mother’s art materials. Half measures was often what he ended up taking to start with, just to be on the safe side.

  “Great thanks. Must dash, Mum.”

  The brass plaque to the side of the door read “The Chronicle: serving Aberfintry since 1908.” As he reached the top of the stairs, a receptionist looked up from behind her desk. Rory couldn’t think at first why her severely pulled-back hair and glasses were familiar to him. Then he realized that he had seen her portrait that morning. Grimson had seen something not immediately obvious to Rory as it had suggested a warmth that the woman herself did not seem to possess. The nameplate on her desk said she was Deirdre Dunbar, which was more of an introduction than she was ever going to make herself.

  “Yes?” and a raised eyebrow were as much as Rory got for a welcome.

  “Er … Rory McKenna to see Derek Goodman.”

  Deirdre Dunbar gave a curt nod to indicate that Rory should sit in one of two seats by the window. Rory looked around the walls at the framed Chronicle front pages representing decades of local reporting. The first headline he noticed was, “He’s Done it Again!!!” with a photo of Lachlan Stagg driving a JCB th
at was almost failing to hold an enormous and presumably world-record-breaking potato in its giant scoop. Glancing further around the reception area he could see that at least half a dozen of the pages were reporting some outrage connected with Hotel Grimm. He could only make out the headline and subtext detail of the one nearest to him. “Inferno at Hotel Grimm” American tourist and staff member recovering in hospital.

  Rory strained to see more but felt that getting up from his seat to look more closely would somehow be frowned upon by Deirdre Dunbar. As it was, he managed to annoy her anyway because he was concentrating so hard on trying to read at a distance, that he didn’t notice her telling him that he could go through to see Derek Goodman. Caught out, Rory suddenly felt very unprepared to see the editor but headed for the indicated door, knocked and entered.

  “Good afternoon, Rory. What a coincidence, having just seen your mother,” said Derek Goodman rising from his desk with a thin smile and an outstretched hand. “The whole town feels it knows you so well but it’s good to finally meet you in person. Of course, I have my own sources, as Gracie and Gordon have told me so much about you.”

  Rory winced and wondered what on earth the gruesome twosome would have said about him.

  “So how are things in the world of Zizz Cola?” he said, indicating for Rory to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Is there some exciting update that The Chronicle should know about?”

  “Things are fine thanks, but that’s not really the reason I’m here.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Tell me more,” said Goodman, reaching for a pen and a spiral bound notebook.

  “I’ve actually been doing a bit of local history investigation and thought that you may be able to help out,” said Rory.

  “Local history, eh?” said Goodman sounding slightly disappointed. “Well The Chronicle has certainly been covering stories for a few decades, so we may be able to comment.”