The DCI Yorke Series 2: Books 4-6 Kindle Edition (DCI Yorke Boxsets)

by Wes Markin

  ‘They don’t.’

  ‘It may be best if you wait here—’

  ‘Not a fucking chance. And I’ve met her already.’

  ‘So, she knows you’re not an officer?’

  Gardner looked away. ‘Not really, no. She never asked for a badge.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Emma, you know the trouble you can get into?’

  Gardner shrugged. ‘I’m coming in, Mike, so you can lay some ground rules now, or we can have the argument on her doorstep?’

  ‘There is only one ground rule, don’t speak. If you wind her up, and she lodges a complaint, both me and you are going to get strung up.’

  Gardner mimed zipping up her mouth.

  As they walked towards the house, Gardner said, ‘What if you piss her off?’

  Yorke touched his chest. ‘Me?’

  ‘You are pretty good at that if I remember, Mike.’

  ‘Memory is fallible, Emma, and if you’re going to play cop, you best start calling me sir again.’

  ‘Did you miss my subservience, sir?’

  ‘Well, it’s not the respect,’ Yorke said, ‘Because I never bloody got that.’ He knocked on the door. ‘What a way to bloody well spend Boxing Day.’

  The gift was weighing on him, so Alan tightened the straps on the backpack. It seemed to help. Then, he crossed over the road to avoid the long walk past a row of shops in Headingley. He didn’t like the windows, or parked cars. He didn’t mind his face, but he avoided reflections that showed his upper body.

  To be reminded of his scoliosis was to be reminded of the lack of order and symmetry in his body. His curved spine caused him to lean to one side. One of his shoulders, and one of his hips stuck out. His ribcage was also an uneven mess.

  As he walked the street, he became aware, as he always did, of the stares. He didn’t need to make eye-contact with any of these people to know where they were directing their attention. That was one of the advantages of being a freak of nature. There were predators out there who preyed on the disadvantaged, so your senses became acute.

  Eddie McLarney was one such predator.

  He looked up at the Original Oak public house. It was dolled out in festive decorations with fake snow stuck on the inside of the windows. The proprietors had even gone so far as to stick an inflatable Santa on the roof.

  Opposite the Oak was the road on which everything had changed for Alan many months before …

  It was late, and dark. After a trip to the cinema, Alan jumped off the bus in Headingley. It was the nearest stop to his flat in his apartment block. He hated walking through a drunken crowd, so he always opted for a weekday night to visit the cinema. But students were students, and even though the crowd wasn’t heavy, it was big enough to cause him discomfort.

  He kept his eyes down, felt the stares roll over his misshapen body, and made a beeline for home.

  Eddie McLarney intercepted his path.

  They knew each other from university. He studied psychology too. They’d even shared a discussion group for one module. Of course, there’d been little discussion between them, and when there had, Eddie had been solely focused on fulfilling a stereotype. Alan had found it confusing. Everyone knew Eddie was a drunken rugby player - was it totally necessary to perform all the time?

  ‘Where are you going?’ Eddie slurred his words. He bounced from one foot to the next to keep himself standing. The smell of marijuana was pungent.

  ‘Home …’

  ‘Not before you have some of this, Mr Bowtie.’ Eddie held out a joint.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Why are you so fucking stiff?’

  Alan tried to step around him.

  Eddie stopped Alan dead in his tracks with the palm of his hand. ‘Answer the question.’

  ‘It’s not really a question though, is it?’ Alan said. ‘It’s more of a conclusion. That’s what you think of me. Could I change your mind even if I wanted to?’

  A ghost of a smile flickered over Eddie’s face. ‘I knew there was more to you.’

  ‘Oi bender!’

  Eddie pulled his hand back and addressed the person shouting towards them. ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Where’re you fucking going?’ The person said.

  ‘I was getting some air, then into the Sky Rack.’

  ‘Who’s your boyfriend?’ The friend was closer to them now, so there was no need to shout, but he did so anyway.

  Alan didn’t turn to look. He started to walk ahead again.

  ‘Oi! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ The friend said.

  Alan stopped.

  ‘Leave it out, Mickey, you prick,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Why? Do you fancy him? Everyone, over here, Eddie is just coming out of the fucking closet!’

  ‘You bell end,’ Eddie said. ‘He’s on my course.’

  Alan chanced a step forward.

  ‘Oi, you bent-backed faggot.’ Mickey said. ‘You do as you’re told, and fucking stop, or I’ll twist you into shape.’

  Alan sighed, and stopped again. He didn’t turn, but he could hear that there was now a crowd of them behind him, bantering over Eddie’s sexuality. He decided to give it a minute and when they were suitably wound up by each other rather than him, he would slip away. He looked down at the second hand on his watch, and watched it sweep.

  ‘I saw you kissing Quasimodo,’ Mickey said.

  ‘There’s an alley back there, Eddie,’ another grunt said, and laughed. ‘You can go and ring each other’s bells down there.’

  ‘The bells … the bells …’ said one of the knuckle-draggers, adding an exaggerated slur to his voice to mimic the disabled Quasimodo.

  ‘I know,’ Eddie said. ‘I’ve been down that alley with a bird. Not quite the behaviour of a queer now, is it?’

  ‘I feel I don’t know you anymore,’ Mickey said. The group all burst out laughing. He was their leader, and they hung off his every word.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Eddie said.

  ‘You’re going to have to prove yourself to us,’ Mickey said.

  Alan saw it had been one minute and started to walk away from the cavemen—

  He was pushed sharply. If there hadn’t been a lamppost for him to grab, he would have gone face down on the pavement.

  ‘What did I say, cripple?’ Mickey said.

  Alan didn’t move.

  ‘Turn around so I can look at what my friend likes so much.’

  His sheep laughed again.

  A young couple were walking in their direction. If he broke into a sprint now, he could maybe reach them and get some back-up.

  They crossed the road. The safest move on their part. They didn’t want to cross paths with this lot—

  Another shove. Not quite as hard, but enough for him to lose his one-handed grip on lamp post. He stumbled forward.

  ‘Turn … the … fuck … round.’

  Assaulted from the back, or the front, Alan guessed it was all the same. Anyway, they were out in the open here – would they really risk their university places by assaulting him with potential witnesses around?

  He turned.

  There were five of them in total, including Mickey and Eddie. The three chuckling followers had their arms draped around each other, and were stumbling back and forth, with eyes half-closed. It was a pathetic sight.

  Having his masculinity questioned was sobering Eddie up. He was no longer swaying and was just scowling. Alan noticed that Mickey was notably smaller, and slimmer than his rugby chums. The littlest man definitely shouted the loudest in this group.

  ‘I’d just like to go home,’ Alan said.

  ‘You would? On your own, or with my friend here?’

  More guffaws from the sheep.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Eddie said.

  Mickey narrowed his eyes and turned to glare at Eddie. ‘Go with him. Get it out of your system, brother. We won’t ever mention it.’ A wry grin spread across his face. ‘Honestly.’

  Eddie shoved him. ‘You’re being
a fucking bell end.’

  Mickey shrugged. ‘Prove it then. Prove you don’t want to fuck him.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Lamp the puff.’

  ‘I’m leaving,’ Eddie said.

  ‘That’s proof of something alright.’ Another grin spread across his face.

  ‘Why don’t I lamp you instead?’

  ‘Guess you could. Then you can go home and celebrate with your princess.’

  ‘Do you want to get me kicked out of Uni? Have you forgotten what happened to Tom?’

  ‘No one gets booted out on one punch. You just say he provoked it. You have four witnesses.’

  Alan took a deep breath through his nose. He wasn’t particularly anxious by what was unfolding in front of him and just really wanted to go home. He’d spent a fair chunk of his childhood being bullied. There was very little out of the ordinary in this whole scenario.

  The drunken sheep chanted. ‘Lamp the poof! Lamp the poof!’

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Eddie said. ‘But not the face.’

  ‘Because he’s pretty?’ Mickey said.

  ‘No, because I don’t want to be pulled in on GBH.’

  ‘Lamp the poof! Lamp the poof!’

  Eddie turned and slammed his fist into Alan’s stomach. The wind was forced out of him, and he slid down the lamp post to his knees. He took a deep breath and looked up.

  Mickey threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. ‘Welcome back! Skyrack?’

  Eddie pulled away. ‘Yes.’ He looked back at Alan and their eyes met.

  Alan smiled.

  Eddie creased his brow.

  ‘Come on,’ Mickey said, pulling at Eddie’s arm.

  ‘Yes, coming,’ Eddie said, but he was unable to pull his eyes from Alan’s.

  Mickey started to move away.

  ‘I understand,’ whispered Alan, loud enough for Eddie to hear.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Eddie, he’s not your boyfriend anymore,’ Mickey said.

  ‘Coming!’ Eddie turned.

  As they were walking off, Eddie looked back, reigniting the eye contact for a moment longer―

  Someone stepped up behind Alan and said, ‘Long before we were born, a British prime minister said something that stuck with me ever since I heard it as a child.’

  One of his university lecturers walked around to the front of Alan and offered a hand to help him up from his knees. ‘He said, “Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke”.’

  Alan took Dr Alexander Harris’ large hand and was back on his feet in a moment.

  ‘Tell me, did you anticipate the outcome of that encounter?’ Harris said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did you fear it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Harris smiled. ‘Fire. There’s real strength … and sharp focus in you. What’s your name?’

  ‘Alan Sants. I’m a Psychology Major. You may have seen me in your lectures?’

  The burly man pushed his hand through his tangled white hair. ‘I’m sorry, Alan, there are many students in my lectures … so … did you see the smoke?’

  ‘Sorry, Dr … the smoke?’

  ‘Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke, remember?’

  ‘Yes … I guess so. They’re afraid of what’s different. I’m different I guess. They’re pretending to be courageous and powerful, but they’re masking their anxieties.’

  ‘Almost … but there is something else. I saw the whole thing.’ He pointed over to the alley that Mickey had suggested to Eddie before. ‘You may wonder why I didn’t intervene. I’m well into my fifties, Alan, and I’ve been around the block, but you’d nothing to fear in that encounter. Smoke is dangerous, but the burning house is ultimately doomed, and those boys have no wish to hasten their demise. They were never going to really harm you. Too much to lose. But, I digress. There was something interesting about one boy’s behaviour there. Did you spot it?’

  ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘The way he looked at you, Alan. His hesitance over delivering the blow. The lingering stare. He bullied you for an entirely different reason. He bullied you because of what he fears about himself.’

  Alan was startled by the direction of the conversation. What was Dr Harris doing out here anyway? This was a student area. Yes, there were restaurants dotted about, but you rarely saw the teachers and lecturers out here, probably because they wanted to avoid awkward encounters … such as this one.

  ‘But, you’re tired. I’m tired. I have just met a group of church friends for Italian, and whenever there is a wine menu, there is only one outcome. Would you like me to walk you home, Alan, you have nothing to fear from me?’

  Alan thought about it. His professor was a very interesting man. ‘Honestly ... I’m fine. Thank you though.’

  Dr Harris nodded, and then reached up to his top lip. He opened his thumb and forefinger there as if he was stroking a moustache. ‘Fire, Alan. That’s what I see. Fire …’

  Now, all these months later, as Alan walked to the bus stop in Headingley, avoiding car windows and shop fronts, he considered these first encounters with Dr Harris and Eddie.

  He considered them very deeply.

  8

  THE COFFEE WAS disgusting, but Yorke drank it anyway. Not to be polite, but because he was desperate for a caffeine hit.

  Gardner looked across at him from the other sofa. She, too, was probably wondering what dead animal Helen Brislane had dropped into the cafétiere.

  During his many years on the force, Yorke had been into many expensively furnished houses, but this really took the biscuit. The sofa he was sitting on was probably worth more than his car – at least it felt like it; and there was nothing fake about the crystal in the massive chandelier that hung from the heart of the room. Yorke wondered if he was in the wrong job, and briefly speculated over how much he would get paid for following cheating spouses and taking photographs like her missing husband had done.

  At first, Helen had expressed surprise that, after all this time, the police were still interested in finding her husband. She’d assumed they’d given up. Yorke explained that this wasn’t the case, while wondering why she’d not taken it on herself to badger the police more. This was his first red flag.

  Helen had quickly turned on the tears and delivered a sermon on their fairytale marriage.

  Rehearsed. Two red flags and they’d only been in the house ten minutes. Why the hell had the officers investigating this case not taken a good look at her?

  Helen was the type of person that really wanted to look good. To the extent she stopped looking so because she tried too hard. She was caked in make-up, and the outfit she wore to potter around the house was more suited to a cocktail party. She was drinking mulled wine. She either knew how bad her own coffee was, or she was doing it to settle her nerves. Something to hide, Helen?

  ‘That job,’ Helen said, ‘I just knew it’d be the end of him.’

  ‘The end of him?’ Yorke said.

  ‘Well, he’s dead, isn’t he?’

  ‘Do you know something we don’t?’ Gardner said.

  Yorke stared at Gardner. The gagging order he placed on her outside had lasted less than fifteen minutes.

  ‘He’s been missing since February. Do you really think he’s still alive?’

  ‘We try not to draw conclusions, Mrs Brislane, we just try to find the truth.’

  ‘What do your past experiences tell you? Everyone knows the statistics.’

  ‘Statistics and past experiences aren’t always the answer,’ Yorke said. ‘We prepare ourselves for that outcome, but we don’t give up hope, and you shouldn’t either.’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘You said in one of your interviews that you spoke to him the evening before he disappeared.’

  ‘Yes, he called me. He always phoned me in the evening when he was away.’

  ‘How did he seem?’

  ‘Fine. We spoke for a while. He is good at that. Talking.’ She smiled. ‘He loves the sound of
his own voice … but, I don’t mind. I love it too.’

  ‘Did he talk to you about the investigation he was working on?’

  ‘No. He didn’t like to talk shop. He also took a professional attitude and wanted to keep the confidence of his clients. Besides, we had more than work in our lives. I mean, he’d tell me if he was having a hard time, or if one of the cases wasn’t coming together, but the details weren’t there.’

  ‘So, he didn’t say anything about how he was doing on this investigation?’

  Helen sighed. ‘I seem to remember him saying it was looking good. He said the case would be wrapped up soon, and he’d be home by the weekend but, no, nothing more. You know, I’m sure I said all of this in the interviews …’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Yorke said. ‘But memory is a funny thing. A bit of time, and things sometimes come back to you.’

  ‘Or things alter and become a work of fiction,’ she said.

  ‘True as well … however, do you remember anything else?’

  ‘No, sorry, nothing has come back to me.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Harewood House?’ Gardner asked.

  ‘Harewood house? No, can’t say I have. Where’s that?’

  ‘Near Leeds. West Yorkshire.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.’

  ‘That was where he was last sighted.’ Gardner looked down at some notes which she’d made on the journey. ‘Automatic Number Plate Recognition tracked his car on the day he disappeared. He left his hotel and was last picked up by cameras at 2.10pm on the A61, Harrogate road, heading in the direction of Harewood House. ANPR never picked him up again.’

  ‘I never knew about this before.’

  Yorke and Gardner exchanged a glance.

  ‘Despite the fact they searched the area?’ Yorke said.

  ‘News to me,’ Helen said. ‘So, what did they find?’

  ‘Nothing really, but it’s a big area. They didn’t have the time or manpower to search all the areas that ANPR won’t reach. That’s a lot of woodland and forest, and some quite substantial reservoirs too.’

  ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.’