DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3

by Oliver Davies

  I turned to go before Alice said, “Officer?” and I stopped.

  “Yes?”

  She looked up at me from where she was sitting on the old plastic chairs, dignified despite her red-rimmed eyes. There was steel in her blue gaze. “You don’t believe it was just… an accident, do you?” I could see from her expression that what she meant was, a suicide.

  I hesitated, uncertain of what to say. She was a civilian, and Graham’s niece. Alice just looked at me, waiting for an answer.

  “There isn’t any conclusive evidence yet,” I said finally. I didn’t know Alice well and even if I did, telling the family of the deceased unconfirmed theories at this stage wouldn’t have been right. They were grieving; they didn’t need me muddying the waters with my suspicions. “The post mortem should give us more.”

  She narrowed her eyes but finally nodded. “Please keep us informed,” she said softly, her voice carrying the same accent as her father, Lyle.

  “I will.”

  Leaving the station was something of a relief, and I hurried through town, almost jogging, back to my small house. I didn’t know how much had gotten out yet, but I didn’t want passersby stopping me with well-meaning questions that I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.

  Getting into the house and then straight into my shower and feeling the blessed rush of hot water was enough to make my legs go weak. I leaned against the wall, feeling ten years older than I was, my hand pressed to my sore head as scenes from this morning’s horrible events ran through my mind.

  But despite that, there was a burning coal of determination lodged in my chest that urged me forwards to find out what had happened to Graham.

  No, Alice, I thought as I scrubbed my hair and got the last remnants of Graham’s blood out from under my stubby nails, I don’t think it was an accident or a suicide. And I intend to keep digging until I hit the truth.

  Six

  After an afternoon that Hogan had sharply ordered me to stay home for, I had slept fitfully that night.

  At the station the morning after, it took two cups of inky black coffee to get me into gear. I read over Alice, Sarah and Lyle’s statements from yesterday, whilst waiting for Kay to show up. While I’d been away yesterday afternoon, they’d run through the fingerprints found on the house phone and found only Graham’s. The news had been disappointing.

  York officers were already over at Sarah’s, searching the house now that forensics had finished up photographing, collecting evidence and analysing everything. The police would do one more run-through of the place, and then there’d be cleaners sent in so that Sarah could have her home back.

  I had planned to head over first thing, but though Maha was here bright and early, Kay was late in, and I wanted her opinion when I headed over there.

  Samuel had been at his desk when I’d arrived, hopefully doing his job of processing the paperwork and transcribing audio records, but most likely he’d been doodling and twiddling his thumbs. He walked by my desk with a mug of something steaming and then paused. I sighed, already knowing what he was going to say.

  “That stuff’s addictive, you know.” He nodded at my half-drank cup of coffee. It did resemble engine oil.

  “Mmhm.”

  “It’ll stain your teeth. You’ll have a heart attack.”

  I turned to Samuel, who looked back at me, the picture of innocence. “I’d rather have black teeth than drink your,” I waved at his mug, “leaf water.”

  He pressed his lips together, disapproving. “It’s loose leaf green tea. It’s organic. Is your coffee even fair trade?”

  I sighed. “I’ll look into it, Samuel.”

  He grinned, looking satisfied with himself. “Thanks, sir.”

  I turned around in my chair as he wandered off. “Samuel?” He looked back at me. “How about you do some actual work, then I’ll try your boiled leaves, hm?”

  He shot me a look that was very close to a glare. I heard him muttering as he went back to his desk, “Boiling ruins the flavour. They should be warmed.”

  I chuckled. I didn’t actually mind green tea, it just didn’t have the caffeine kick of coffee, and Samuel was too easy to tease.

  “Finally!” I said when Kay showed up, half-an-hour late. I got up from my chair and closed down the open tabs on my computer, turning it off. “Where’ve you been?”

  Kay didn’t reply, and when I looked up, I saw why. “Ah,” I said.

  There was an admittedly very cute brown and white Staffordshire bull terrier at her feet. The dog didn’t look fully grown and was dancing about on the floor, whining as she tried to get Kay’s attention.

  Kay gave me a sheepish smile.

  “This is Lexi, then?” I guessed.

  Hogan came out of her office, hands on her hips. “Why is there an animal in my station?”

  Kay sighed. “She’s only six months, and she’s gone and gotten herself attached herself to me, ma’am. Wrecks the whole place when I’m gone.” She looked imploringly at Hogan. “It’ll just be for a couple of days, while we take her to training classes. Pretty please, ma’am?”

  I could already tell that Hogan was going to fold. Kay didn’t ask for favours often, and Lexi was really very cute, her face looking like she was constantly smiling as she panted.

  “I’ll look after her and keep her out of trouble!” Samuel piped up. I huffed a laugh and Hogan shot me an unimpressed look.

  “She better not go piddling all over my floor,” she said sternly to Kay. “If these shoes,” she pointed to her shiny purple heels, “end up with a speck of dog pee or poop on them, I will take the replacements out of your pay cheque. Understood?”

  She probably wasn’t joking, and I expected those shoes cost about the same as Kay’s pay cheque. Kay nodded quickly.

  “She’s totally potty trained!” Kay claimed before she pulled a face. “Well, mostly. There was a small accident last weekend but--”

  “Kay!” I put in. “Let’s get going.” I nodded my head towards the door pointedly and headed over to her. I added in a hiss, “And not dig yourself into a bigger hole, hm?”

  “Sure, right.” She gave Hogan a sheepish grin and handed Lexi’s leash over to Samuel. “Make sure she has a bowl of water. She has to go outside every two hours, preferably one actually.” She glanced over at Hogan’s shoes with a grimace. Hogan sighed and retreated into her office. “I’ll be back to give her her meal, don’t feed her any snacks, okay? None of your raisin bars or turnip crisps, okay?”

  “Kay?”

  “And if she’s sick, don’t call me, call the vet. Look, here’s the number.” She scrawled it down on a piece of paper on Samuel’s desk. Samuel was looking as if he was almost regretting offering. “And don’t slack on your work,” Kay added firmly, “the chief will take it out on me--”

  “Kay?” I said, exasperated. She looked up. “She’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

  She relented, and we headed out after she’d given the dog several kisses on the nose.

  “Thought you said it was the dog that had separation anxiety,” I said as we got in the car. She elbowed me painfully in the side. “Ow!” I protested. Kay just smirked.

  It was my turn to drive, so I took us up to Graham’s, or I suppose it was now just Sarah’s, house. There were several police cars crowding up the lane and nearby laybys, and we had to park a ways away before walking up.

  “You alright?” Kay asked, after a minute of silence. I’d barely said a word since we got into the car at the station car park.

  “Fine. Achy legs.”

  Kay didn’t look convinced, but we reached the house before she could interrogate me further.

  “DI Darren Mitchell,” I introduced myself to the officer who stood nearest to the police tape.

  “DS Kay McGregor.”

  The officer nodded and wrote our names down and waved us in. Seeing the house again brought back a wave of memories, and I paused for a moment. Kay squeezed my shoulder. I shot her a tight smile and went to find the person
in charge.

  The highest-ranking officer seemed to be a DI Barclay, another of the York lot, and he looked unimpressed to see us. He was technically the same rank as me, but the way he looked down on us made me think he didn’t agree that we were equals.

  “You’re the one who tramped over everything then?” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I found the deceased, yes, and checked for vitals.”

  He huffed at me. “Country folk,” he muttered and turned to walk off.

  “DI Barclay--” Kay said sharply, her brows furrowed up with bad temper. I put my hand up to her and gave her a warning look. Losing her rag wasn’t going to help.

  “What information have you got for us?” I pressed. “Have you found anything significant?”

  “Nowt,” he said. “Suicide if you ask me. Takes some pills, that’s that.”

  It was Kay’s turn to give me a cautionary glance as I ground my teeth. “Talking like that isn’t very professional, DI Barclay,” she said, flat and hard. “Have some respect. We country folk care for our own.”

  He stuttered. “Don’t know what you mean,” he said, before walking off.

  “Christ,” I muttered. Kay made a disgruntled noise of agreement.

  A younger officer, a DS like Kay, approached us. “Sir, ma’am,” she said. “Heard you talking to…” She jerked a thumb towards the DI.

  I made an encouraging gesture.

  “It’s true, we ain’t found much,” she continued, “but there’s a boot print out on the mud that forensics picked up. Sure you’ll be getting the full report along sharpish.”

  She took us over to see the fresh-looking bootprint pressed into the muddy path outside the Stewarts’ back door and I studied it.

  “What size does that look to you?” I asked Kay.

  She considered it, putting her own booted foot nearby, though she was careful not to touch the print or put her foot down in the mud. “Much bigger than mine, I’d say. Size ten? Ten and a half maybe.”

  I hummed. “A man’s footprint then,” I mused.

  “Or a big-footed teenager’s,” Kay said, then shrugged. “Or a very tall woman.”

  I conceded her reasoning with a nod. “We’ll have to check Graham’s boot size and pattern. Maybe it’s his.”

  Kay nodded.

  We spoke to a number of the other officers, but they hadn’t found much else. The blood drag marks suggested Graham had made his own way into the hallway by crawling. There was no indication of a struggle, and the doors and windows were untampered with. The whole thing troubled me.

  We made our way back to the station after the York police had cleared out. The DI had unofficially decided it was a suicide and seemed to have lost interest in looking into Graham’s death further. I knew that York, though a safe city, had its fair share of crimes to deal with but the DI’s sloppiness still irked me.

  That wasn’t to say I wasn’t glad the city officers had cleared out of the station and out of Lockdale. It certainly made it easier to make myself another cup of coffee in the station’s break room without having to queue behind several York officers. Samuel pulled a chagrined expression when he saw my new cup of coffee, before giggling when I almost fell over Lexi in her excitement. Settled back down at my desk, I pulled up the files I’d been looking at on my computer before Kay had arrived this morning.

  They didn’t make for especially interesting reading. Hogan had let me know when I’d arrived that Sarah’s account of being at the business conference had been unsurprisingly verified by several of her colleagues and staff at the venue. Lyle and his wife, Alice’s mother, had been at a country fair, watching the horse jumping and numerous people had backed their story, too.

  It was only Alice that didn’t have an alibi. I hadn’t known, but apparently, she’d moved back onto her parents’ land, and she was staying in their granny annexe, rather than the house itself. The cleaner who did the house hadn’t seen her and Alice, by her account, had gotten up late and stayed inside studying that morning. It wasn’t at all unbelievable, but she was also the only one without a confirmed alibi. Still, I couldn’t believe she’d had anything to do with it. Not least because she was on the other side of the village and she’d have struggled to get to Graham’s and back home again in the timeframe.

  I sighed. I didn’t think Graham’s niece, who he’d adored, had anything to do with it. But I also had no idea what had caused the huge haemorrhaging of blood that had killed him. He hadn’t done it to himself, unless by some bizarre accident, I was privately certain, but who might have done it to him I had no idea…

  Something nudged my leg under the desk, and I was so lost in thought that I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was just Lexi, nosing around as she looked hopefully up at me for a treat. I heard snickering and looked up to see Kay grinning at me.

  I shook my head and shooed the dog away in Samuel’s direction since he seemed besotted with her.

  “She pees on my shoes, I’ll steal yours,” I threatened Kay.

  “You’d break your toes trying to get my boots on,” she said.

  Fair point.

  I went back to studying the statements, reading my own back over again. The mention of that black shape I’d seen behind the garden wall piqued my interest, even though I still wasn’t entirely sure I’d actually seen it. Perhaps it had just been a large crow, landing behind the wall, or a black sheep moving past. I grimaced, rubbing at the stubble on my cheek.

  If someone really had killed Graham, as I was beginning to suspect, then I worried for Sarah. Would they go after her too? The problem was that I had no proof, other than a general gut feeling that Graham would never have taken his own life and my own observations of Graham’s symptoms whilst we were running together. But no-one could confirm that but me.

  Since Graham’s death had been clearly unnatural, his body would go to the nearest available pathologist for a post mortem. If something was found then and an inquest was required, then I might be able to ask Hogan to put resources towards protecting Sarah. But right now, she could hardly spare officers for that, and I had no concrete reason for fearing for Sarah’s safety other than an uneasy feeling.

  Perhaps the killer had just wanted Graham out of the way. They’d certainly succeeded at that.

  Seven

  The clouds hung low as I made my way over to Lyle Stewart’s house, the morning mist barely cleared, and it was drizzling persistently. It was a fair way, but I’d decided to run, feeling the cold air brushing past and my legs burn beneath me.

  It was my first run since I’d climbed the moors with Graham, but the different surroundings helped keep me from dwelling. I kept up a good pace as I pounded the tarmac road that wound its way towards the Stewarts’ house and a number of other expensive houses, much larger and generally more modern than the ones in town. Lyle and his wife owned an original building though, an elegantly renovated old farmhouse rather than a flashy new build, where their daughter Alice also lived.

  When I arrived, I paused at the bottom of the gravel driveway to catch my breath. My legs had loosened up finally, and I felt as awake as if I’d downed an espresso, the cobwebs of the morning fully shaken off by the exercise and the cold, sharp air. Autumn had settled in to stay, and winter was threatening to arrive soon, and before long I’d be forced into the warm, sticky confines of Lockdale’s only gym because the paths and roads would get too icy to run on.

  Before Kay had left the station yesterday, she had let me know that Sarah was staying with Lyle and his wife for a while, so that she wouldn’t have to be up in that remote house alone. I’d been relieved for more reasons than one, and that news had been the only reason I hadn’t visited last night to check in with them.

  After crunching across the gravel drive, I pulled the cord of an old-fashioned doorbell and heard it ring inside the house. I looked up at the place, impressed by the size of it. I’d seen this place briefly when driving past, out of the village, but I’d never taken all that much notice
.

  To my slight surprise, Alice answered the door, and I rubbed a hand through my hair, trying to flatten the wayward curls.

  “DI Mitchell?”

  “Ms Stewart,” I returned and gave her a nod.

  She smiled and waved me inside. “Alice is fine, thank you.”

  Long-limbed and willowy, she didn’t much resemble her father, though their eyes were the same forget-me-not blue. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, and she was wearing what looked like jodhpurs, which clung to her legs.

  It was bright and open inside the house, the woodwork left exposed and contrasting with the modern kitchen.

  “Tea?” Alice offered. Her skin was tanned, and there was some redness in her cheeks like she spent a lot of time outdoors.

  “Thank you.” I’d already had a soup-bowl sized cup of coffee with my breakfast, and my stomach probably wouldn’t thank me if I had any more before lunch. “Just milk.”

  She nodded, moving comfortably around the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, and I remembered how Alice’s statement had said they had a cleaner.

  “You’re here for Sarah?” she asked as she poured the kettle.

  I accepted the mug when she offered it, my hand brushing hers. I cleared my throat. “Partly. I wanted to see how you were all getting on.”

  Alice sighed and leaned her hip against the counter, her hands cupping her own mug. She’d made herself cocoa, I could smell the chocolate from here, and I couldn’t help but find it endearing. Still, the sadness in her expression stopped me from smiling.

  “We’re carrying on.” She put her cocoa down to tighten her ponytail and turned to look out the window. It was just starting to drizzle.

  I moved to join her by the sink, looking down at their large, manicured garden. The annexe where Alice was staying was just about visible, though it was a fair walk from the house and was connected by a narrow path. From what I could see, the garden was hemmed in by high hedges on all sides, and I couldn’t see that there was an easy way out of it, except through the house, or round through the side gate. Going through or over the hedge looked impossible. If the cleaner said she hadn’t seen or heard Alice leave, I was inclined to believe that Alice had most likely just stayed in the garden, as she’d said.