Blood Sport: A Yorkshire Murder Mystery (DCI Harry Grimm Crime Thrillers 7)

by David J Gatward

  ‘That soon?’

  ‘Yes,’ the doctor said.

  ‘What do you mean by what you said about the attack being restrained,’ Harry asked. ‘In what way? I saw him, and that didn’t look like whoever did it held back.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ the doctor said. ‘You’re the detective, after all, not me. But the injuries, they’re wild, all over the place, and really he should be in a lot worse state than he is. And yet…’

  The doctor’s voice hung in the air.

  ‘What?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Maybe the attack was supposed to, I don’t know, seriously injure him at least, maybe even kill him, but the attacker either didn’t want to or couldn’t go through with it. Does that sound crazy?’

  Harry shook his head.

  ‘It’s harder than you’d think to beat someone to death, to kill another person. Much easier to shoot someone because there’s a distance to it.’

  ‘Is that the voice of experience I hear?’

  Harry said nothing, and he could tell from the look on the doctor’s face that that was more than enough.

  ‘Guns aren’t easy to come by though, are they?’ the doctor said.

  ‘Well, they can be, if you know the right people,’ Harry said. ‘Which suggests that whoever did this didn’t, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘Perhaps he was lucky after all, then,’ the doctor said.

  ‘He was,’ Harry said, then he thanked the doctor for her time and headed off to meet with Grace in the café.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘I got us both an Americano,’ Grace said, as Harry walked over to sit down opposite her at a small, round table with two chairs and the smallest laminated menu he had ever seen. ‘With an extra shot and milk.’ She pointed to a plate. ‘And a couple of brownies.’

  ‘A couple?’ Harry said. ‘But there’s only one.’

  ‘I already ate mine,’ Grace said. ‘And I was about to start on yours. Barely eaten all day. I’m starving.’

  ‘Then you have that one as well.’ Harry smiled, picking up his coffee.

  ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘Oh, I think you could.’

  Grace hesitated, then took the second brownie.

  ‘Just so you know,’ Harry said, ‘Molly is doing just fine. Made herself right at home, I have to say.’

  ‘I’m sure she has,’ Grace said. ‘She’s a lovely dog. Thirteen years old now, soon be fourteen. Just seems to keep on going somehow. Watch out for your underwear, though. She’s a fan of knickers and pants, especially.’

  ‘What?’ Harry said, choking on his coffee. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s disgusting, I know,’ Grace said, brushing a crumb from her mouth. ‘But she has a habit of stealing them, then burying them around the house.’

  ‘And why does she do that?’ Harry asked. Then holding up a hand to stop Grace from answering, added, ‘Actually, I don’t need to know. I’ll use my imagination.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks they’re food,’ Grace said. ‘Dogs will eat anything, you know.’

  The conversation died for a moment as both Harry and Grace sat together, both of them trying to feel a little more human from the caffeine, and in Grace’s case, the cake.

  ‘The doctor says he’s doing well,’ Harry said.

  ‘They’re keeping him in for observation,’ said Grace. ‘But he’ll be able to come home in a day or so. He was lucky. Could’ve been a lot worse.’

  ‘That’s what the doctor said,’ Harry said, his voice trailing off.

  Grace leaned forward and stared at Harry.

  ‘There’s something you’re not saying, isn’t there? What is it?’

  Harry paused, then told Grace what the doctor had said about the injuries.

  ‘What does that actually mean, then?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ said Harry. ‘But it’s like someone went over to your dad’s to do considerably more harm than they actually ended up doing in the end. Like they bottled it as soon as they started.’

  ‘You mean they meant to kill him but couldn’t?’

  Harry nodded, then said, ‘Maybe not kill him, but certainly put him more out of action than he is.’

  ‘But who would want to kill Dad or injure him like that?’ Grace said, slumping back, rubbing her eyes, then looking up again at Harry. ‘This kind of thing just doesn’t happen around here! It doesn’t make any sense!’

  ‘These things rarely do.’

  ‘You’ve met him, right? Who would want to harm him that badly? What the hell has Dad done to anyone to deserve this? What?’

  Grace’s voice was breaking now and Harry could hear waves of emotion, which had a few moments ago been so calm, now starting to crash down with increased violence.

  ‘Well, it’s got nothing to do with deserving it, that’s for sure,’ Harry said, ‘because he didn’t. And as to who did it and why? That’s what we’re working on. All of us. The whole team. I can assure you of that, Grace.’

  A warm smile crept briefly onto Grace’s face.

  ‘You know, that’s the first time you’ve actually used my name,’ she said.

  ‘Can’t be,’ Harry said.

  ‘It’s been Ms Black or nothing at all, up to now.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘I had.’

  Harry wasn’t sure what to say next, so he went for something that had nothing to do with what had happened to Arthur.

  ‘You said you had some puppies.’

  ‘I will have very soon, yes,’ Grace said. ‘The mum’s due to pop any day now. I’ve a friend just checking in on her while I’m here. No reports of any new arrivals yet.’

  ‘Well, that should be exciting,’ Harry said.

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Grace said. ‘Do you want one, then?’

  Harry laughed, shook his head.

  ‘Good God, no. I’ve not got the time!’ he said.

  ‘That’s just an excuse,’ Grace said.

  ‘There’s a big difference between what I said and an excuse.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Grace suggested, leaning forward onto her elbows. ‘When they arrive, why don’t you pop over and see if I can’t change your mind?’

  ‘Not a chance of it,’ Harry said.

  ‘Just come over and have a look! What harm is there in that?’

  ‘No harm, I know,’ Harry said. ‘But the answer’s still no.’

  ‘What are you so afraid of?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Me? I’m not afraid of anything!’ Harry said, suddenly on the back foot and not used to it at all. Which would explain why I responded in such an uncharacteristic way, he thought. So, he added, ‘I just don’t have the time, that’s all. For a pup. And anyway, can you see a dog wanting to live with me? Wouldn’t be fair on the poor thing.’

  Grace leaned back.

  ‘Well, we’ll see, shall we?’

  Harry smiled, shook his head gently, then took another gulp of the coffee.

  ‘See?’ he said, changing the subject clumsily. ‘Told you the café was okay. Not bad this, is it?’

  Grace placed her cup on the table between them and then once again leaned forward on her elbows.

  ‘I know you’re avoiding the questions you want to ask,’ she said. ‘But you really don’t need to. I’m fine. Dad’ll pull through. So, ask away. Please.’

  Grace, Harry could tell, was someone who didn’t beat around the bush. He liked that a lot. Saved a lot of faffing about.

  ‘First of all,’ he began, ‘can you think of anyone who might want to do this to your dad, to harm him in some way? Have you heard him arguing with anyone? Has he talked about anything that has had him upset or angry?’

  ‘Eric Haygarth, like I said,’ Grace said. ‘I saw him there. Have you spoken to him yet?’

  ‘I have my officers on that today,’ Harry said, wondering how Matt and Liz were getting on with finding the so-far elusive Mr Haygarth.

  ‘He can be a right bugger to track down,’ Grace said. ‘Too used to k
eeping himself to himself, always hiding, making sure no one finds out what he’s up to. It’s like he’s part rodent. Has kind of a ratty face, too. All pinched and just not nice to look at, at all.’

  Grace used a hand to mime having a pointy face, then her face dropped.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean…’ she said, stumbling over her words. ‘I’m not saying I judge someone on how they look, it’s just that… I… well…’

  Harry smiled.

  ‘I know what you’re trying to say.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said, looking a little embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Harry. ‘Every time I see my scars I’m reminded that I’m alive. Others weren’t so lucky. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll find him.’

  Grace ate some brownie.

  ‘So, other than Eric, anyone else?’ Harry asked.

  Grace thought for a moment then shook her head.

  ‘No one,’ she said. ‘Dad wasn’t one for enemies. The opposite, really. He’s well-liked, up and down the dale. Prides himself on it.’

  ‘Phil said that Jack was a bit of a monster.’

  At this, Grace’s weary face broke into a laugh. It was a bright sound, Harry thought, the kind that should be available on prescription.

  ‘He didn’t give you one of his pies, did he?’

  ‘Yes, he did actually,’ Harry said.

  ‘Please tell me you’ve thrown it away!’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Just don’t eat it, that’s all,’ Grace said. ‘Though if you manage to get past that pastry without a little help from a freshly sharpened chainsaw, then you’ll have done better than most.’

  ‘Your dad warned me before I went over,’ Harry said.

  ‘How was Phil?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Seemed fine to me,’ Harry said. ‘Quite a character, isn’t he? Introduced me to another Harry.’

  ‘His Shire horse?’ Grace said, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘He’s prouder of that beast than he is of anything else in his life! And you said he described Jack as a monster?’

  ‘A bear actually, not a monster,’ Harry said.

  ‘Pretty accurate description,’ Grace said. ‘He was a big dog. Soft and friendly though. Well, not with everyone.’

  ‘Not a fan of strangers,’ Harry said.

  ‘Not at all,’ Grace said. ‘Which means whoever took him, well, he knew them for sure, didn’t he?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Harry agreed.

  ‘So, it has to be Eric, doesn’t it?’ Grace said. ‘That’s the only explanation!’

  Harry knew full well that there was never only one explanation for anything.

  ‘Where did he get the dog?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Local breeder,’ Grace said. ‘Just outside Hawes, over in Hardraw.’

  ‘You mean someone bred him on purpose?’

  Grace shook her head.

  ‘One of their guard dogs got a bit frisky with one of their bitches. There was a storm last year and it got out and they found it all cuddled up with this beautiful Springer. They were mortified. And because of what happened, they had this litter of pups they had to get rid of, so Dad took one. Well, he paid for it, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘Nothing’s free,’ Harry said.

  ‘And if it is, there’s always a catch,’ Grace agreed.

  Harry took down the name of the breeder, then realised he’d seen the name before. It was the same one Jim had found in those files, the one who’d had a dog stolen a while back.

  ‘Something up?’ Grace asked.

  Harry shook his head and put his notebook away.

  Grace checked her watch then said, ‘Dad should be awake now. Nurses told me he was going to be given something to eat around now.’

  ‘Eating? Well, that’s something, isn’t it?’ Harry said.

  Grace stood up and Harry followed, as she led them back up to the ward where Arthur was being kept.

  When Harry came to stand beside Arthur’s bed, the bruises on the man’s face, the bandages, the beep-beep-beep of the monitors he was attached to, didn’t exactly fill him with confidence, regardless of what Doctor Kelly had said. That was, until the old man himself spoke.

  ‘And I thought I looked bad.’

  Harry smiled and sat down on a nearby chair.

  ‘I’m sorry if this is too soon,’ Harry said.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Arthur replied. ‘And it isn’t. But I don’t know what use I’ll be to you, if I’m honest.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Harry asked.

  Arthur pointed at his face, the bruises on it as purple as the ripest plums.

  ‘Because I’ve no idea who did this, that’s why!’ Arthur said, wincing a little with pain. ‘Whoever it was, they came in wearing a balaclava, would you believe? Pulled right down over their head, like this!’ He then pretended to pull on an invisible balaclava. ‘How cowardly is that? Couldn’t even give me a proper hiding either, could they? Here I am, still alive and kicking! Well, not kicking, maybe, but I’m alive! Let them try again though, and I’ll be ready for them. I’ll give them a taste of their own medicine, see how they like that!’

  Harry couldn’t help but admire the fire in Arthur’s belly.

  ‘What actually happened that evening?’ Harry asked.

  ‘This happened,’ Arthur said, his voice gruff and weary.

  ‘Dad…’ Grace said, admonishing him gently.

  ‘Well, Grace here was round, weren’t you? Trying to get me to eat, which usually isn’t a problem, but I wasn’t hungry, not after you’d been round.’

  ‘It was a lot to take in,’ Harry said.

  ‘And I got to thinking about it all,’ Arthur continued. ‘After you’d gone, and when Grace left. And I thought I’d just get on with it myself, you see? Because the police are too busy, aren’t they? To be bothering about a dog.’

  Harry saw shock rake itself across Grace’s face.

  ‘What are you on about, Dad? What the hell did you do?’

  ‘What anyone would do if they thought they knew who killed their dog,’ Arthur replied, folding his arms. ‘I called them.’

  ‘You what?’

  Grace’s voice jumped two pitches at least.

  ‘You called them? Who did you call, Dad? Who?’

  ‘Eric, who else?’ Arthur said. ‘Told him that I knew what he’d done and that he’d better come over and explain himself. Had a right go at him I did. Of course, he said he had no idea what I was talking about, but I didn’t believe him. Why should I? He’s a lying, mean old bastard, is Eric, and I wasn’t having it!’

  ‘Then what happened?’ Harry asked.

  ‘You’re looking at it,’ Eric replied. ‘I fell asleep waiting, was woken up by a knock at the door. Next thing I know, old balaclava head is trying to kill me.’

  Grace turned to Harry.

  ‘See? It’s Eric! It must be! Dad called him—and the stupidity of that we’ll ignore for the moment—and he came over to sort Dad out once and for all!’

  Harry was quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘What do you remember about your attacker? Did they tell you who they were, why they were there? Or is there something about them that you remember? It doesn’t matter how small; anything is useful at this stage.’

  ‘What does any of that matter?’ Grace asked. ‘Dad called Eric and then someone attacked him! Eric attacked him!’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Harry said. ‘Why would he do any of this? Why wear a balaclava? Why beat up your dad? And if he came out with the intent to kill, but at the last minute chickened out, like the doctor suggests, why wear a balaclava in the first place?’

  ‘So Dad wouldn’t recognise him!’ Grace said.

  ‘Why would that matter if he was going to kill him? But he didn’t, did he?’ Harry said, then looked back over at Arthur. ‘So, can you remember anything else?’

  ‘You mean as in like that thing you said yesterday?’

  Harry wasn’t sure what Arthur was referring to.

  ‘You know,’ Arth
ur continued. ‘What was it now? Noticing something that should be there but isn’t, or something that isn’t there but should be. Was that it?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Harry said. ‘Yes, it was something like that.’

  Arthur fell quiet for a moment. So quiet, in fact, that Harry was sure the old man had fallen asleep.

  Grace gave Arthur a gentle nudge.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Gracie?’

  ‘You were telling us about your attacker.’

  ‘Us? Who’s us?’

  ‘DCI Grimm here, and me,’ Grace said.

  ‘Grimm? That detective fellow? He’s here as well? You’ve seen his face, right? Poor bloke, suffering that. Suits his name and personality though, doesn’t it? Though I think he’s more bark than bite. Most of the time anyway.’

  ‘Dad…’

  ‘What?’

  Harry said, ‘I’m right here, Arthur.’

  Arthur turned his head and his eyes fell on Harry.

  ‘Oh, there you are, yes!’

  Arthur’s forgetfulness was to be expected, Harry thought. He’d been through hell and back, so his body was in the thick of repairing itself, with a little help from the NHS.

  ‘He was wearing a balaclava,’ Arthur said.

  ‘Yes, you’ve told us that,’ Grace said. ‘Was there anything else?’

  ‘Pulled right over his head it was!’

  ‘So, it was definitely a man, then?’ Harry asked, making a note of this new bit of information immediately.

  ‘Yes,’ Arthur said. ‘Definitely a man. At least I think it was. Like I said, he was wearing a balaclava, I’m very sure about that. And I’m also pretty sure it was a man. Oh, and there was this smell, wasn’t there? Yes, a smell. Bought it in with him. A proper stink.’

  Harry jumped at this new information. ‘Smell? What smell?’

  ‘A smell!’ Arthur repeated. ‘And it was certainly one that I’ve never had in my house, that’s for sure. Or ever want again.’

  ‘Can you describe it?’

  ‘Rank, it was,’ Arthur said. ‘Came into the house before he did, when I opened the door, like. Sort of sweet, like a cheap cigar, only worse, much worse. Remember potpourri? That, only not, if you get my meaning. Stank the place out good and proper.’