Inspector Kirby and Harold Longcoat

by Ian Martyn

  ‘Sensible girl, takes after her mum. Mrs Dalton met a very nice man through that. Takes her to Whitby and places. Got a caravan at Sea Houses as well.’

  ‘Good for Mrs Dalton. I don’t like caravans.’

  Just then the doorbell chimed. ‘That’ll be Shirley,’ he said, thankful of the interruption which saved him from further pressing about his absent love life.

  twenty-three

  Kirby opened the front door, pulling on his jacket. ‘Well done, Constable, just in the nick of time.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Oh just Mother being Mother,’ Kirby said, as they got in the car. ‘Poking her nose into my life.’

  ‘I know the score, sir. Mine’s the same, “When are you going to get married”. “When am I going to hear the patter of tiny feet”. I bought her a kitten, I don’t think she was impressed.’

  Kirby laughed.

  ‘So where to, sir?’

  ‘I think we’ll start with Harold.’

  In Harold’s shop, Edna was wandering down one of the aisles with a basket in one hand.

  ‘Oh great,’ muttered Kirby. ‘The other one’s here as well.’

  ‘Other one?’ Shirley asked.

  Kirby pointed towards Edna. ‘She’s one of Harold’s lot.’

  ‘The old lady?’

  ‘Don’t let the old-grey-cardigan routine fool you, Constable.’

  Edna scuttled over to them. ‘There’s two of you then.’ She may not have been an old lady in the conventional sense, however it appeared to Kirby that Edna still delighted in playing the part and stating the obvious.

  ‘Very perceptive of you, Edna.’

  Edna huffed her displeasure. ‘So who’s this then?’ she asked, turning her attention to Shirley.

  ‘Constable Barker meet Edna.’

  He glanced at Shirley and watched as the smile faded from her face under Edna’s gaze.

  At that moment, Harold appeared from the back of the shop, attracting Edna’s attention. Shirley put a hand out to the nearest shelf for support. She turned to Kirby. ‘I see what you mean, sir. It’s like… it’s like…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Constable, I know what you mean. If ever there was a lesson in not making a snap judgement of someone, she’s it.’

  As Harold approached them, Kirby noted that the basket in Edna’s hand had Tesco printed on the handle. He pointed to it. ‘Thinking of joining them, Harold?’

  Harold shrugged. ‘No idea how that got there.’

  Kirby looked at the other five or six baskets near the door. They all said Tesco on them.

  Harold followed his gaze. ‘Not my fault if they leave them lying around.’

  Edna grabbed Harold’s arm. ‘Hey, I haven’t got all day. You and ‘im getting on alright then?’

  ‘His name’s Jonah.’

  ‘Who?’

  Harold aimed a finger at Kirby. ‘The inspector here.’

  Kirby narrowed his eyes at Shirley, who had failed to hide a snigger. ‘Never to be used, understood, Constable?’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘What you mean?’ Edna said, turning her mind-burning gaze on Kirby. ‘Jonah’s a good name. Old name.’

  ‘So Harold tells me.’

  To Kirby’s relief, Edna returned her attention to Harold, poking him the chest. ‘And where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you an’ you’re never here.’

  Harold seemed to shrink under Edna’s gaze. He pointed to Kirby again. ‘With him.’

  ‘I guessed that. I’m old, not senile. I know that in the eyes of youngsters these days…’ at which point she glanced towards Kirby and Shirley, ‘the two go together. You know better, my lad.’

  My lad? thought Kirby.

  Harold told Edna in detail about where and what they’d been doing. ‘That’s not good,’ she said when she heard about the dead goblin and Harold reckoning it was goblins who had abducted Sarah for Marianne. ‘Not good at all. How are they getting through? She poked Harold again, several times. ‘Huh? It’s your job to see that doesn’t happen.’

  This time Harold took a step backwards under Edna’s gaze and the barrage of finger-poking.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt this family row,’ Kirby said. ‘But one of the reasons I’m here is to tell you that she’s turned up.’

  Edna paused mid-poke. ‘Who?’

  ‘Sarah.’

  ‘I thought it was Susie?’

  ‘No that’s her friend.’

  ‘Sarah’s friend?’

  ‘Yes, Susie.’

  ‘She went missing as well?’

  Kirby rolled his eyes wondering if he was perhaps wrong about Edna after all. He glanced at Shirley who was trying not to laugh. ‘No! Stop, take a breath and listen.’

  Edna widened her eyes in mock hurt. ‘No need to get shirty.’

  Kirby scowled.

  ‘Alright I’m listening.’

  ‘Good. Sarah is the girl that went missing. Susie is her friend. Right?’

  ‘Right. Have you got a picture?’

  ‘Of Susie?’

  ‘No, Sarah of course.’

  Kirby gritted his teeth, biting back a reply for fear of going round in yet more circles. Instead he took out his phone and, after several attempts and a little muttering, he held it out for Edna to see. ‘On the left is Susie. The one on the right is Sarah, you know the girl who went missing and has now turned up.’ She snatched it from him. She nodded. ‘Marianne’s alright. Seen her around, should’ve guessed.’

  Harold shrugged. ‘No reason to.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Edna said, and with a deft two-finger touch enlarged the image and then scanned across it. ‘What about this other girl?’

  ‘Susie,’ Kirby said.

  ‘I know that. What I mean is, look at them. Could be sisters or at least related.’

  Harold shrugged. ‘Marianne only had the one.’

  Edna slapped Harold on the arm. ‘I said could be.’

  ‘You thinking both of them?’

  Edna nodded. ‘Maybe that’s why they get on so well.’ She handed Kirby his phone back. ‘They related?’

  ‘Don’t think so. We’ll ask, but I’m sure Susie’d have said.’

  ‘Hmm…’

  ‘Oh,’ said Harold.

  ‘Hmm,’ Edna repeated. ‘An’ both of them here.’

  Harold reached across his head with his left hand and scratched at his right ear. ‘You think Marianne knows?’

  ‘Must do.’

  ‘Then…’

  ‘Exactly…’

  Harold looked at the photo again. ‘Can’t be, surely?’

  ‘Hmm…’

  Kirby waved a hand in between them. ‘Excuse me, hello, I’m still here. And if you two are holding back information that might help the police with their enquiries, then…’

  Edna turned on him and planted a finger on his right lapel. ‘Listen here, Mr Polis man. If we told you everything we think, and you go ahead and put it all in some report, your superiors will trot you down to see a shrink in no time. And before you can say Caractacus, they’ll have you in a white van and on the way to the funny farm.’

  Kirby opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t find any suitable words so closed it again. He glanced at Shirley, who just shrugged.

  ‘Well done,’ Edna said. ‘Very sensible. Listen. I think Sarah and Susie are related and close at that. I’m not saying Susie is lying. She just might not know, which then begs the question why? Hmm…’

  ‘So why?’ Kirby asked.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Edna replied. ‘You need to find out. You’re the policeman,’ she added, before darting out of the shop accompanied by the gentle tinkle of the bell. Kirby watched her go and then blend in with all the other grey cardigans on the street.

  ‘If you didn’t know…’ Shirley said. ‘Well, you wouldn’t know. And she don’t half move fast for… for…’

  ‘Edna,’ Harold completed for her.

  ‘She didn’t pay,’ Shirley said, eyes still on the door. ‘And she’s
still got your basket.’

  Harold shrugged. ‘She never does and I can always get more baskets.’

  Kirby put aside the basket issue. ‘And Susie?’

  ‘I think we might need to see her.’

  ‘So do I,’ Kirby said, taking out his mobile.

  ‘Susie, hi, Inspector Kirby. Where are you?’

  ‘Whitley Bay with some friends. They thought it’d do me good to get away for a day, enjoy the sun, that kind of thing.’

  ‘When’ll you be back?’

  ‘We’re not planning to come back till late. Is that a problem?’

  ‘No, no. You enjoy yourself. I’ll get round to your place in the morning. Ten-ish?’

  ‘OK, bye.’

  Harold looked up as Kirby put the phone back in his pocket. ‘Not in then?’

  ‘Whitley Bay, not getting back till late.’

  ‘You didn’t ask about her and Sarah, sir.’

  Kirby shook his head. ‘I don’t believe she knows more than she’s telling and it’s easier to talk about it with her face to face. Also, it’s a good excuse to have another look at their flat now that Sarah’s back.’ He looked at Harold. ‘You can come along as well since you’re supposed to be my expert.’

  Harold nodded. ‘In that case I want to go and check something out, and it might be a good idea if you came along. It’ll help with your education, as it were.’

  ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘The Metro.’

  ‘The Metro?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll get my coat.’

  twenty-four

  Harold reappeared wearing his coat. He frowned at Kirby and Shirley as he strode past them. ‘Coming?’

  ‘No hat?’ Shirley asked with a smile.

  Harold took it out of his pocket and rammed it on his head, scowling at Shirley. He harrumphed, and the door to the shop opened with an annoyed tinkle. Kirby and Shirley followed.

  ‘You not going to lock it?’ Kirby asked. Harold gave him a look that suggested it was a ridiculous idea. Harold shifted the coat on his shoulders before heading off down Eskdale Terrace. The way the coat moved suggested it was heavier than might be accounted for by just the weight of the leather.

  Kirby sighed.

  ‘You alright, sir?’

  ‘Just something I’d forgotten. But too late now.’

  Kirby caught up with Harold. ‘So this guardian thing, how long’s it been going on for?’

  ‘My people have been here long before the streets of Jesmond existed,’ Harold said.

  Kirby smiled. ‘That doesn’t say much.’ Kirby winked at Shirley. ‘But you’re trying to say you’re what, Saxon, Nord?’

  Harold gave him a look that indicated he was deeply offended by those suggestions. ‘We’ve already had this discussion.’

  ‘Really? Remind me.’

  ‘I am certainly not any of those incomers, nor the other incomers, the Romans. I am British.’

  Kirby put on his best innocent look. ‘So what is that, Harold, Celtic?’

  ‘I’ve told you, British! Brigante if you want to be more precise. Although so called academics like to say they’re Celts. Harold shuddered.’

  ‘British,’ Kirby repeated to Shirley with a smirk. ‘Wait up, Harold,’ he said, as Harold strode off down the street, forcing him and Shirley to break into a run. While they did their best to avoid people coming the other way, Kirby noted that Harold walked in a straight line; that people coming in the other direction swirled around him, like waves around a rock, before continuing their journeys. It was as if they reacted to him, rather than saw him.

  ‘So, enlighten me,’ Kirby said. ‘Why the Metro?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ Harold said as they turned into Eslington Road, with the entrance to Jesmond Metro station ahead of them.

  Harold strode towards the barrier and people moved aside to let him through. No ticket, no card, yet the turnstile turned.

  ‘Hey,’ Kirby shouted, he hated fare-dodgers. Then he remembered he didn’t have a card or ticket either. He whipped out his warrant card and waved it at the guard on the gate, as did Shirley. The guard sniffed and let them through. By now, Harold was disappearing down the escalator, two steps at a time. Kirby and Shirley had to sprint to catch up. ‘You didn’t…’ Kirby took a deep breath, ‘pay.’

  Harold narrowed his eyes. ‘We’re not taking a train,’ he said, as if that should be obvious. At the bottom of the escalator, he headed towards the southbound sign, his heavy footfall echoing around the tiled hall. As they reached the platform, there were two would-be passengers staring at the adverts on the opposite wall.

  ‘I thought you said we weren’t going anywhere?’ Kirby said.

  ‘No, I said we weren’t taking a train.’

  ‘Where else do you go from an underground platform?’

  Harold pointed. ‘Hopefully through that door.’

  ‘What...’ Kirby’s voice tailed off as he noticed a door that he’d have sworn hadn’t been there a few seconds a go. It was an old, heavy-looking wooden door with three thick metal bands running across it. There were no signs. No “For staff only”, or “Keep out”.

  ‘I’ve wondered what was behind there,’ Shirley said.

  Harold’s hand stopped half an inch from the door’s peeling green paint. He turned his head and raised the rim of his hat with the tip of a finger. ‘You could see this?’

  Shirley frowned back. ‘Yes, of course. When I lived around here I often took the train into town. I used to lean against it. No one ever seemed to use it.’ She shrugged. ‘Just wondered what was behind it.’ She smiled. ‘One day, when there was no else down here, I did have a peek.’

  ‘You actually opened it?’ Harold said.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Shirley said narrowing her eyes at Harold. ‘How else do you think I had a peek? You needn’t worry though, I didn’t go in. It was all dark and I’m not keen on spiders.’

  ‘Spiders?’ Kirby said with a smile. ‘The indomitable Constable Shirley Barker afraid of spiders?’

  Shirley scowled at Kirby. ‘Don’t you dare tell anyone at the station.’ After a pause she added, ‘sir.’

  Kirby grinned. ‘Your secret’s safe with me, Constable,’ he said, then added, ‘For now.’

  Shirley tutted. ‘Me and my big mouth.’

  Harold pulled his hat down again and shook his head before pushing the door open and stepping through.

  ‘Hold on,’ Kirby said. ‘So we’re going in there?’

  Harold took a step back and looked down at Kirby from under the brim of his hat. He gave a long sigh. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but yes. And we’re not so much going in as going through.’

  ‘Through?’

  ‘It’s one of those gateways I told you about. And that’s what you do with gateways, go through. I want to make sure no one’s been tampering with them.’

  ‘As in Marianne?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Harold said slapping the door with the flat of his hand and producing a small cloud of dust and green particles. He walked on. Shirley shrugged at Kirby and fell in behind Harold. ‘Oh hell,’ Kirby whispered to himself and followed. He glanced back to see the two passengers still staring at the far wall.

  They were in narrow passageway with a dull glow coming from the far end, which wasn’t that far, only about five metres.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Shirley said.

  ‘Why?’ Harold asked. Kirby noted that there was now more respect, perhaps a little reverence in Harold’s voice.

  ‘Spiders?’ Kirby suggested.

  ‘Not just that!’ She lowered her voice. ‘It’s… it’s creepy.’

  ‘Oh,’ Harold said, sounding disappointed as he took out something from inside his leather coat and stepped into the passageway with what looked to Kirby like exaggerated caution. Harold held his other hand out stop Kirby getting ahead of him.

  ‘What are you expecting?’ Kirby whispered.

  ‘More to the point, what the hell is that?’ Shir
ley said in a louder voice, pointing to Harold’s hand that wasn’t holding Kirby back.

  Harold waved his free hand in the air. ‘Keep your voice down, and what does it look like?’

  ‘It looks…’ Shirley started before lowering voice again. ‘It looks like a small crossbow,’ she said, trying to put as much force behind a hoarse whisper as she could.

  ‘That’s because that’s what it is. Believe me, you can’t be too careful.’

  ‘Too careful!’ Shirley said having given up whispering. ‘That’s… that’s an offensive weapon and you were walking around Jesmond with it.’

  ‘Shhh…’

  Shirley turned to Kirby. ‘Sir!’ she said in a forceful whisper.

  ‘Why do you think I sighed when we left the shop?’

  ‘You knew?’

  For once his superior officer status seemed to abandon him. Kirby felt like a naughty schoolboy who’d been caught smoking behind the bike sheds, which he had been, on more than one occasion. ‘Yes, well, I…’

  ‘What else has he got in there?’

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  Shirley registered her displeasure by crossing her arms.

  ‘When you two have finished,’ Harold said as he edged forward. ‘For now, just trust me.’

  ‘Trust y…’ Shirley ran out of letters and words.

  Kirby and Shirley watched as Harold walked to the end of the passage, which as he approached appeared to shimmer. Without breaking his stride and now with confidence, Harold walked towards and into the barrier. He bounced off it and landed in a leather heap on the floor. The crossbow fired and the bolt stuck in a beam overhead with a twang. Harold grabbed his hat, which had been thrown off in the collision and rammed it back down on his head.

  ‘Holy hell,’ Kirby said. ‘Shirley’s right, put that damned thing away before you do some real damage.’

  Harold tucked the weapon into an inside pocket. As he did so, Kirby got a glimpse of other “things” but didn’t mention it. He didn’t think his dented sense of seniority could survive Shirley’s response.

  ‘Hmm,’ Harold said.

  ‘Is that what you were expecting to happen then?’ Shirley said, leaning against a wall, arms still crossed and foot tapping on the floor