DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3

by Oliver Davies

  I grunted, unconvinced, and Kay patted my shoulder and left me alone. Maha quietly brought me over a cup of coffee, and I smiled weakly at her. Even Samuel had sent me a couple of concerned looks and actually seemed to be getting on with his work.

  But reading through the post mortem was just frustrating me. The pathologist didn’t seem to have been thorough enough, at least to my thinking. He’d found the blood thinner and aspirin and then stopped looking. My mouth twisted in annoyance. Sometimes I wanted the resources and the urgency that came with big-city police investigations, especially for the cases that hit the news.

  I’d applied for a position like that when I’d first been starting out but had ended up here, and it had suited me. I’d grown in confidence working at Lockdale under Hogan’s encouragement and teaching, and then alongside Kay when she’d arrived. But now that I was a DI, I’d started to chafe slightly as the boundaries of being a small-town officer and caught myself thinking of the rush of the city more often, even as I loved this place.

  Focusing back on the post mortem, I decided that I wasn’t satisfied with it, and if the chief had hoped me seeing this would settle my uneasiness over all of this, she was going to be disappointed.

  I headed over to her office. She was just off the phone and waved me in when I knocked.

  “I want to go talk to the pathologist in York, ma’am,” I said.

  She looked at me, evidently displeased. “How have you and Kay progressed with finding out who stole the cases of alcohol from the pub? Have you even been down to talk to them since Maha went?”

  I winced. “No, ma’am. But this is more important than some missing craft beer.”

  “Mitchell,” she said firmly, “you can go and talk to the pathologist if it sets your mind at rest. But I want you working on other cases this afternoon, do you understand?” I nodded reluctantly. “Not only do I think you need to move on, but so do Sarah and the Stewarts.”

  That seemed like a distinctly underhand blow and not at all called for, and I clenched my jaw to stop myself saying so. Hogan seemed to realise she’d been too harsh, and she waved me to go with a slight sigh. “Be back by one, Mitchell.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I told Kay what we were doing, and she came along without protest. “Are you going to lecture me too?” I asked as she got into the driver’s seat.

  “No.” She sent me a wry look. “I thought the report was weak, as well.”

  I made a noise of surprise. “Well, good.”

  She switched on the radio, and we drove over the moors and along the steadily widening roads towards York in a comfortable silence. We reached the rather dull, grey building close to the hospital, which looked like it’d been built in the 60s and not been given a lick of paint since.

  I got out of the car and put up my collar against the light rain stinging the back of my neck as we made our way towards the entrance. My hair was going to be a mess after getting damp, the curls always going crazy after I got rained on. I ought to move somewhere dry and hot where it never rained, I thought absently with a glance up at the gunmetal grey sky. That would suit my hair better, but it wouldn’t suit me. Yorkshire was in my blood now, after nearly ten years of being here with nary a holiday away, and once this bleakly stunning place got a hold on you, it didn’t let you go again without a fight.

  Inside the building, we were shown through to meet a Dr Murdoch, the pathologist who’d worked on Graham. He was in the break room, drinking a cup of coffee that I wrinkled my nose at when I saw it. It looked like it was ninety per cent milk. Kay shot me an amused glance, clearly reading my expression.

  Dr Murdoch himself looked about twice my age and close to retirement, with much more grey in his dark blond hair than I had in my brown. He had a face that seemed perpetually displeased, with his mouth turned down at the corners, but he greeted us politely enough when we introduced ourselves.

  “And what can I do for you both?” he asked.

  “We’d like to talk in more detail about Graham Stewart’s post mortem,” I told him. “You sent us the report this morning.”

  He raised his bushy eyebrows. “What did you want to talk about?” he said, before taking a sip of his pale coffee. “I included everything in my report.”

  I made a noncommittal noise. “Yes. Can we step into your office to discuss it further?”

  Dr Murdoch’s polite expression had slipped away, and he was now overtly frowning. “I don’t know about that, officers,” he said flatly. “I have a great deal of work to be doing.”

  “We understand that,” Kay said, her voice steady. “We’ll keep it to the point and won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Dr Murdoch exhaled heavily before jerkily gesturing for us to go down the corridor and then into his office on the left. The space inside was lined with textbooks, with photographs of small, colourfully dressed children on the shelves.

  “My grandkids,” the pathologist said, and I nodded politely.

  We sat down, and Dr Murdoch looked impatiently at us. “Go ahead, then.”

  “The blood thinner,” I said. “Coumadin--”

  “That’s the brand, yes. The same as was found in the house, I believe.”

  “Yes,” I said, barely keeping my irritation in check. “How much of it had Gra- the deceased taken?”

  “Far and away enough to kill him,” the doctor said. “A huge overdose.”

  “How many pills, though?” I pressed.

  Dr Murdoch gave me a look that reminded me of an older teacher’s disgust with the stupidity of his pupils. “The science isn’t so specific. Some of it may have already been processed or degraded by the time the post mortem took place. Suffice to say that it was the cause of death, especially when interacting with the aspirin.”

  “You didn’t note down any sites of injection or cuts to the skin,” I stated. He nodded sharply. I didn’t know how to ask this politely, and I was feeling irritable enough not to care overly much, so I cut to the point. “How carefully did you check?”

  Dr Murdoch visibly bristled, and Kay straightened up in her seat beside me, ready to mediate if things got heated. I tried not to glare at the man.

  The doctor seemed to rein himself in at the last minute. “I am always extremely thorough in my investigations, officer,” he said. “I have been doing this work for over thirty years, and I would thank you not to doubt my professionalism.”

  “You didn’t get the lab to look for any other substances.” I pressed my hands against my thighs and found that they were shaking, mostly with anger and frustration, I thought. “Any signs of drugs, benzodiazepines, sleeping pills, or,” I hesitated, reluctant to say it, “antidepressants.”

  “The cause of death was evident,” the doctor dismissed me. “We have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt what killed the victim, and this was it.”

  “But evidence of foul play--”

  “Was non existent,” Dr Murdoch said firmly. “We ran the standard tests for common poisons and party drugs. If you think we have the resources or the funds here for running unneeded tests on clear-cut cases, you’re wrong.” He stood up, draining his coffee. “I think we’re done. If you have a problem with my work, you can take it higher up.”

  I took a breath. “Thank you for your time,” I forced out before leaving without waiting for Kay.

  The drive back to Lockdale felt too long, leaving the tall, old buildings of York for the spread-out farmhouses and rolling hills that led into Lockdale.

  “Losing your temper doesn’t help.”

  “I know.”

  “He could’ve at least pretended to care, though.”

  I snorted humourlessly. “Exactly.”

  “What now then?”

  I turned down a narrower lane that was a more direct route to Lockdale and would hopefully avoid any traffic blocking up the road, except possibly tractors.

  “I want a second post mortem from Leeds,” I decided as I said it. “A more thorough one.”


  Kay hummed. “That would be good, but do you think the chief will sign it off? The pathologist has said ‘no’ to needing an inquest and ruled the death unsuspicious.”

  I twitched. “It’s damn suspicious,” I said. “And I don’t know, I have to try, though.”

  Hogan was about as unimpressed with my asking for a second opinion on the post mortem as I’d been with Dr Murdoch’s sloppy report and dismissal of us.

  “The cause of death--”

  “Is crystal clear,” I interrupted, which wasn’t something I usually dared with Hogan, nor did she usually let it pass, “but the circumstances around his death? Whether there were other factors at work? He couldn’t even give me a clear answer on whether Sarah’s two bottles of pills would’ve been enough to cause such a big overdose.”

  “Budget cuts mean we can’t look down every single path, Mitchell.” She sighed. “Look, I sympathise. He was your friend. If you want your second opinion, then I’ll sign it off, and you can see if you can persuade Leeds to do it on short notice.” I nodded, opening my mouth to thank her before she put up a finger to stop me. “But at some point, if no absolute, concrete, positive evidence comes up, I’m going to have to order you to drop it, do you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” she said. It was a dismissal, and I headed out, relieved to have at least gotten a green light for now. Kay looked up from behind her monitor, and I gave her a thumbs up. She grinned.

  Lexi sprawled in the aisle between the desks, and I tried to step over her carefully. At the last minute, she jumped abruptly to her feet and almost sent me flying.

  “Lexi!” Samuel scolded as I caught myself on Maha’s empty desk and jolted it so much her pen pot fell over. Samuel sounded more amused than firm.

  “Yeah, laugh,” I grumbled, righting myself and clearing up Maha’s desk. “When you fall flat on your face, you’ll change your mind on that… dog.”

  Samuel giggled. “You say ‘dog’ like you mean ‘demon’.”

  “Sounds about right,” I huffed. I glanced over at Kay, who’d stayed suspiciously quiet, only to find her muffling her laugh behind her hand. “Traitor.”

  Maha came in, holding a steaming mug. She looked at the scene with Lexi getting belly rubs from a grinning Samuel, Kay sniggering and me with a face like thunder.

  “It was the dog, wasn’t it?” she said.

  “I always knew you’d make a good detective,” I said wryly, and she grinned.

  I headed back to my desk and caught the smell of hot chocolate as Maha returned to her desk. It reminded me of Alice, who’d drunk that when I’d gone to visit her. I wondered how she and Sarah were doing, and if Sarah would be upset to have to delay the funeral further if Leeds would agree to take on the second postmortem.

  I spent the rest of the day making calls and filling into paperwork about the investigations so far and then calling up Leeds. It was all tiresome but necessary. The pathology unit in Leeds wasn’t too pleased to have more work added to their caseload, but they managed to fit it in, and I thanked them for it. Talking to Sarah was harder, as I couldn’t say too much but still needed to emphasise the importance of this second opinion.

  “Whatever you need to do,” she said, sounding tired. “Did the first postmortem give any answers?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I’m really sorry,” I said genuinely, “but I can’t say yet, since we’re still looking into it. I promise I’ll tell you just as soon as I can.”

  “Alright.”

  I was almost disappointed by the lack of disagreement from her. I’d heard Graham say, with fondness and not irritation, that his first date with Sarah had involved an hour of arguing over whether lemon or lime went better with gin. He’d thought she’d hated the date and would never want to see him again, only for her to say that she wanted to meet again, to argue over pizza toppings next time.

  But just now, Sarah didn’t seem to have the energy to ask much of anything.

  “Could I talk to Lyle or Alice?” I asked gently.

  She made a noise of agreement.

  “Hello?” It was Alice, and I stilled for a moment, even though I’d asked for her or her father.

  “It’s DI Mitchell again,” I said. “I wanted to ask how Sarah’s doing. She didn’t seem well when we just spoke.”

  Alice hummed. “She’s not,” she said quietly. “She’s not eating much, and she’s been asking continually to return to the house. We sorted out her medicine for her at least, but it’s been stressful trying to make sure she got what she needed from the doctor.” She sighed. “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve got enough going on.”

  “Thank you for being with her, you and your parents,” I said. “I’m glad she’s got people with her, and she’s not alone up in that old house.”

  “Yes, we didn’t think it would be a good idea either, but she’s asked repeatedly. When will she be allowed to go back?”

  “I would think very soon, if not today,” I said. “I’ll confirm that and get back to you.”

  “Thank you. I think she’d like to get some things at least, even if she does stay with us longer.” She paused. “What’re the developments with the investigation? Have you found anything yet?”

  I explained to her about the second postmortem and the funeral needing to be delayed.

  “I’m glad we’ve got you looking into it,” she replied after a moment. “It seems right, and I think Graham would approve.”

  Her words made a warmth settle in my chest. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “I was thinking,” she started, “it might be worth talking to Graham’s friends down at the pub. There’s a group of locals that go down most Fridays, my dad was saying. I don’t think Graham joined them often, but apparently, he went occasionally.”

  I considered what she’d said and nodded to myself. “That’s a good idea.” I’d never heard Graham discuss anyone who wasn’t his wife or his family when we’d run together, so the thought of looking for other friends hadn’t occurred to me, but it made good sense.

  “And I’ll come too,” Alice said, her words rushed.

  I paused. “Why’s that?” I said hesitantly. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to come but was she coming because of Graham or… some other reason?

  “I just,” she hesitated, “they might be more likely to speak to his niece.”

  I snorted. “As opposed to a cop?”

  “Yes.”

  It hadn’t been quite the answer I might’ve liked, but it was a fair point. “Does tonight work for you?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Eight? They will have had a couple of pints by then.”

  “Sure. See you then.”

  We exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up.

  Kay sidled up beside me. “Who was that?” she said, her expression making clear she knew exactly who’d called.

  “Miss Stewart.”

  “Alice Stewart?” she teased. “That’s cute. Talk to her about something that isn’t work, okay? I mean, if there’s anything you’ve got to talk about outside of work.”

  I shot her a look. “This is work, Kay.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “You’ve got a funny definition of work if it includes dates with pretty women. Sounds like the kind of work I’d like.”

  I laughed. “I’ll tell Anna that, shall I?”

  She pulled a face of mock horror. “Oh god don’t, Anna’ll start poisoning the cakes she gives me if you tell her that.” I grimaced at the word ‘poison’ and Kay stilled. “Sorry,” she said. “That was insensitive, wasn’t it?”

  I waved her away. “Don’t worry,” I said, though I couldn’t help but think of Graham lying there - I shook my head, pushing the thought away and refocused on Kay. “You can interrogate about the not-date tomorrow, if,” I held up a finger, “you stop bugging me at the moment.”

  Kay held up her hands as she backed away. “I’m going, I’m going. I can take a hint.”

  Samuel leaned arou
nd his desk to look over at me. Lexi was in his lap despite the fact that was about three times the size of any normal lapdog.

  “Have fun, sir,” he grinned and then winked at me, badly.

  I gave a long-suffering sigh and ignored the pair of them. Anyone would think they were teenagers. Maha, the only sensible one of the bunch, was out patrolling and wouldn’t be back for a while, alas.

  Still, I managed to get back to work, spending the afternoon looking through Graham’s social media sites, which mostly consisted of landscape photos, runs he’d completed and pictures of his family, and his LinkedIn account, which didn’t tell us any more about his employment history than I already knew.

  I looked over Graham’s will, too, which had just arrived from the legal company Graham had used. I opened it eagerly, but it didn’t say anything particularly unusual. His money was due to go to his wife, his brother, and to Alice. I couldn’t help but note that Alice would receive quite a significant amount, once the money had gone through, but stopped my thoughts from going any further. Graham had loved his niece almost like his own child. Of course, he would give her as large of an amount as he could afford, with his teacher’s pension and some saved money from years ago.

  Overall, the day had been infuriatingly unproductive, and perhaps any other day, I might’ve gone home in a black mood, suited only for too much wine and falling asleep on the sofa. But I had Alice to meet later, and somehow that made the day not seem completely wasted.

  Ten

  I headed home at a sensible time, pretending not to hear Kay’s wolf-whistle. Going for a run helped to burn off some of the restless energy I’d built up over a day of mostly sitting down, dealing with the frustration of a case that stubbornly refused to open up. I thought of the Three Tops race that Graham and I had been planning on going to as I ran, before pushing it from my mind.

  I admitted, if only to myself, that I dressed up a touch nicer than I might’ve done if I’d been meeting Kay or any old university friends at the pub, in anticipation of seeing Alice later. The pub, the Orion, was hardly a high-end place, but that didn’t matter. I ate a bowlful of pasta for dinner, too, not wanting to get too tipsy and embarrass myself. Alice held herself in such a way that always made me feel like I was slouching, and her careful, Southern accent made her sound refined in a way I wanted to tease her about, whilst privately finding it attractive.