Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5) by David Gatward (english reading book TXT) 📗

what happened to Jadyn, who leapt into the air, knocked his chair over, then stumbled backwards to land on the floor on his backside.

‘You evil sod!’ Jadyn said, pushing himself back up to his feet.

By the time he was there, Matt was wiping tears from his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but laugh himself.

‘You walked right into that,’ Harry said. ‘Well told, Detective Sergeant. Well told, indeed.’

‘It’s true, mind,’ said Matt, still chuckling. ‘That really is the reason why the house was split in two. A group of paranormal investigators went up there a few years back, said they recorded lots of evidence. And the folk who were at the house before the colonel, they refused to go out at night into the section between the main house and the cottage.’

‘But you were there on Thursday,’ Jadyn said. ‘What was it like? Could you sense anything? Was it really creepy?’

Harry thought back to when he had taken that short stroll between the houses. He remembered the thick darkness and the almost oppressive atmosphere of the place. But how could it be anything else, he thought, with those walls looming overhead, and the night having been as black as pitch?

Harry decided to not answer Jadyn’s question, checked the time and saw that the end of the day was gathering pace. ‘Well,’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘fun and exciting though this is, I’m not entirely sure tracking down and arresting ghosts is in my remit as a DCI.’

‘Heading back home, Boss?’ Matt asked.

At the door to the office, Harry paused and turned back to look at his team. ‘I’ll be giving Jim a ring in a bit. I’ll let you know how he is, how his dad is.’

‘And I’ll tell everyone else, no bother,’ Matt said.

With nothing left to say, Harry walked out into the damp, late afternoon air, the only thought on his mind being what he and Ben were going to have for dinner. And that alone was enough to crease his damaged face with a smile.

Chapter Eleven

Tuesday was always busy in Hawes, what with it being market day, and Detective Inspector Gordanian Haig was very happy indeed to be there. She didn’t get up dale as often as she would like to, but when she did, this was absolutely her favourite time of the week to do so. And thanks to a call from Harry late on Sunday afternoon, she’d headed over.

‘So, nothing from forensics, then?’

‘Sod all, actually,’ Harry had said, and she’d heard the frustration in his voice. ‘Posh cigarettes and some tyre tracks. Not exactly much to be going on with, is it? And although I know that there’s every chance those poor animals have been shipped off to some disused warehouse somewhere to be killed and cut up and shipped off to who knows where, I don’t want to be giving up on it.’

‘That’s not really in your nature now, is it?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Harry had said. ‘And this is closer to home as well, with it being Jim’s family’s farm.’

Gordy had things to be getting on with, but part of being in the police force was learning to juggle. So, she’d said, ‘And you’re phoning me because you have a plan?’

‘A plan is a grand term for this.’ Harry had sighed. ‘But my view is that if a gang has been over here and done this, then it’s likely that they’ve done so because they’ve been keeping an eye on what goes on around here, seen it as easy pickings, and swooped in. And that, Detective Inspector, pisses me right off.’

‘A lot of things seem to do that,’ Gordy had said, a laugh curling the edges of her words.

‘We’ve already been around to the farms,’ Harry had explained, ‘just to show our faces, that kind of thing. But I’m thinking the auction mart is where I’d be, if I was this gang, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do,’ Gordy had agreed. ‘You think they’re recceing stock there, do you?’

‘Not just stock, but farmers,’ Harry had said. ‘No point turning up to try and nick a couple of truck-loads of animals, if the farm is difficult to get to, actually has some kind of security in place, dogs or what have you–’

‘Or geese.’

‘What?’

‘Geese,’ Gordy had said. ‘Better than guard dogs, I promise you. My grandma worked a croft, just a couple of acres, and she always had geese. Angry wee bastards, they are. Hate people with a passion.’

‘Anyway,’ Harry had continued, ‘I’m thinking it might be clever, like, if we had you and me and some Uniforms up there, just mooching about. The Uniforms might put them on edge if they’re there, the gang I mean, and my face is well known, so that’ll get folk talking. You’ll just be in plain clothes, you’re not as obvious, and you can observe from afar, can’t you? You can also be a bit nosy, ask questions, get a feel for what’s going on, that kind of thing.’

‘You’re making it sound really sexy,’ Gordy had said. ‘Very Starsky and Hutch.’

‘Am I?’

‘No, not really.’ Gordy had laughed. ‘More like All Creatures Great and Small crossed with Columbo.’ Then she’d reminded him about the book she’d leant him.

‘I’ve finished it,’ Harry had said, and Gordy had heard the surprise in his voice. ‘Good, too, it was. Bit far-fetched, but that’s the point of fiction, isn’t it? Tell a tall tale. He could certainly spin a yarn, Charlie Baker, couldn’t he?’

‘And his sales will go crazy now, after what’s happened.’

And on that note, they’d finished the conversation, agreeing that Gordy would be over to the action mart come Tuesday and take some of the team with her, at the same time pondering over the last case they’d dealt with, over in Coverdale, and the murder of the author, Charlie Baker.

So, here she was, and having parked up in the marketplace, Gordy stepped out into crowds, the hustle and bustle already chasing its way through market stalls alive with