My careful hairstyling was entirely ruined by it raining as I walked over, without an umbrella, so that my shoulders and back were soaked by the time I arrived and my hair looked like I’d just been apple bobbing.
She was already there, sitting at a table in the middle of the right-hand wall. The building had been built a long time ago and been an inn for most of its life. There was even an old stable around the side where horses used to be kept for overnight travellers, and a mounting block out front. Inside, the decor was classic, the floor sticky from years of spilt beer which had formed a lacquer that never really came off. But it was the only pub in the area, and it was homely in a slightly run-down way.
I went over to Alice, self-consciously rubbing a hand through my hair as if I could make it stop dripping.
“Got caught in the rain?” she said, smiling like she was trying not to.
I grinned goodnaturedly. “And I thought I was the detective.” She laughed. “Can I get you a drink?” I said, before noticing her half-full glass on the table. “Another drink?” I amended.
She shook her head, and I went off to fetch myself a drink, choosing a nicer wine than I would usually.
“Seen any of the blokes we’re looking for?” I asked quietly as I sat down. The chairs were squashed close together in the relatively small pub, and my knee brushed hers before I pulled away.
Alice discreetly tilted her head off to the side, and I glanced over to see a group of perhaps eight men, all around Graham’s age, though none of them looked as healthy as Graham had. Life was so unfair, I thought for a bitter moment, before pushing it down.
“I miss him too,” Alice said, quietly enough that I almost didn’t catch it over the hubbub of the pub’s chatter.
I looked at her in surprise. “You could’ve warned me you were psychic. I’d have worn a tinfoil helmet or something.”
She smiled, a touch sadly. “I see the same expression you just had in the mirror sometimes.”
“I wasn’t as close to him as you were,” I said, struggling for what to say.
“I know, but you were still friends.” She sighed.
I reached for another topic. “I asked Hogan, the chief inspector at Lockdale,” I clarified, “and she said that they've finished up in the house if Sarah wants to move back.”
Alice nodded. “It’s all… clean,” she asked hesitantly.
“Completely,” I reassured her.
She moved the conversation away from Graham after that, asking about my work and my life. In return, I learnt that she was two years into studying sociology and living at home and that she had a mild form of lupus which caused her fatigue.
“I was married, you know,” she said. I nodded, and she smiled a little. “Village gossip reached even you?”
“Even me?” I said, pretending to be offended. “You say that as if I’m a pariah. Or a hermit.”
She chuckled. “No, just a workaholic who likes to run up mountains. I can’t imagine the sheep share much gossip up there.”
“Only if you ask nicely,” I agreed.
She paused. “Have you been married?” I shook my head. “I married very young,” she said. “It didn’t go well, and after my lupus worsened, we split. I’ve been back with my parents ever since. Not an impressive record, is it?”
I frowned at her, taking my hand away from my empty wine glass to touch her wrist gently. Her skin was cooler than mine, even though I was the one that’d gotten soaked in the rain.
“If you don’t try, you can’t know what’ll happen,” I said. “At least you were brave enough for that, even though it went badly.” I pulled back and tried to smile. “And look at you now, you’ve taken the reins and are studying for a degree. You’ve picked yourself up right well.”
“I think my degree is wasted,” she said wryly. “You seem to have all the insight into humanity already.”
“Hardly,” I said. “I just know that you’re doing better than you think.”
She met my eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Darren. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
A burst of loud laughter from the group of men off to the side made Alice startle and me to draw in a sharp breath. Alice laughed a little.
“Almost knocked over my glass,” she said.
She’d finished her drink, and I went to stand up. “Another one?”
“I suppose there’s no harm. Gin and tonic, please.”
I headed off, getting her a fancy gin from a purple bottle, and myself another glass of wine, though a cheaper one this time. Graham’s old group of friends had gotten louder as time passed and I wondered whether it was time Alice and I went over before they got too drunk to remember yesterday, let alone conversations from more than a week ago.
Alice seemed to have the same thought as she accepted the drink I’d got her with polite thanks.
“Do you think we should,” she started, nodding towards the group of men.
Now that I was sitting here, I didn’t want to leave the bubble of friendship, or even intimacy, that Alice and I had built over the last hour or so, and I wanted even less to lead her over to a bunch of rowdy men, even if they had been Graham’s friends. But I had no right to stop her. She was a grown woman, and we were hardly even friends, let alone anything else.
Still, I sighed before nodding. “Suppose we should,” I said.
She gave me a gentle look that seemed part admonishment and part fondness, and it made me want to move even less.
Remembering why we were here got me moving, though. I wanted - needed to find out what had happened to Graham, and maybe these men could help. I ruddy hoped so.
By silent mutual agreement, we both got up and moved over towards Graham’s friends, me slightly in the lead as we wove through the busy pub.
“Alice?” One of the men, a balding bloke who looked like a rugby player gone to seed, noticed Alice before we said anything. “I haven’t seen you for years! How’re you, lass?” He winced. “That’s a daft question--”
“We’re getting along, thanks, Paul,” Alice said with a nod. “And you? When did you hear?”
He sighed. “Not so long ago. News went round the village it did, and my missus heard first and told me gentle-like.”
The other men around the table had become subdued, drinking their beer and listening in respectfully.
Alice hummed. The sadness that had briefly been absent from her face had returned now. “Did you… did you talk to him? Before?”
Paul swallowed a glug of beer. “Nah, didn’t have the chance. We was going to be meeting here soon after, like, but we hadn’t seen him for a couple weeks otherwise, had we?” A couple of the men made noises of agreement.
Alice’s shoulders visibly slumped, and I had to stop myself from clenching my jaw. I seemed to be running into wall after wall so far in this case.
“Did he say anything at all, did you--?” Alice’s voice cracked, and I put a hand on her shoulder, watching her face to see if it was unwanted, but she gave me a grateful look.
I stepped in. “Did Graham say anything that worried you? Or anything odd or out of the ordinary?”
Paul narrowed his eyes at me. “Who’re you, then?” he said, before looking me up and down. “Some journo?”
I pressed my lips together briefly. “No. We went running together, I--”
“You’re police,” one of the other men piped up. “You’re the one looking into it all, then?”
“Yes, I’m DI Mitchell,” I said. “And I am looking into Graham’s case, but he was also a friend.” I took a breath. “We did fell running together.”
A man to my right clicked his fingers. “Oh, you’re that bloke Graham runs up hills with! He mentioned you, said he was always trying to be a wee bit faster because it always put a bee in your bonnet.” The men chuckled.
I snorted. “Sounds like him,” I said.
Paul finally seemed satisfied enough to answer my question. “He said nowt strange to me. Just his usual chatter, though a bit qui
eter than usual, p’haps.”
A couple of the other men hummed in agreement. “It was just about his running, and his family, y’know?” a ginger-haired man said, jerking a thumb in Alice’s direction. “And his charity stuff, o’course. Always running about the place, he was.”
I perked up. “Charity work?” I glanced at Alice to see if she knew this, but she looked as interested as I was.
“Aye,” Paul said. “He did that helping down at York, like.”
“Where in York?” Alice asked.
Paul shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Homeless shelter, it was like.”
“Down on Vicar street,” a grey-haired man said, his voice deep. “I helped him out with a Christmas dinner, one year, while back.”
I had pulled out my notebook by now, which was slightly damp, and jotted down the street name.
“Did he talk about it much?” I said.
The men looked at each other. Paul avoided my gaze, and I figured there was something they weren’t saying.
“It’s important, Paul,” Alice said. “Please.”
He sighed. “He was homeless, wasn’t he?” he said solemnly. I was startled, and Alice looked the same. “Didn’t tell you lot, I’m sure,” Paul nodded at our expressions. “As a young’un, he ended up at that place. Now he made himself good, he wanted to pay it back.” He shook his head and swallowed some more beer. “Right shame. Good man, good man.”
“Yes, he was,” I said, making a brief note on my pad, though I was certain I wouldn’t forget that piece of information.
“Nothing else?” Alice pressed. “He didn’t mention anything else?”
The men shook their heads. I fished out a business card from my wallet and handed it to Paul. “If you remember anything, even something small that was off about him,”
“Aye, we’ll let you know,” he finished. I nodded and thanked them. We took our leave, much more subdued than I’d been not so long ago.
Alice still had most of her drink left, but she set it on the side and pulled her coat on.
“I think I should go,” she said.
I nodded, reading the weariness in her face. “Thank you for coming. I think they said more because of you.” She just nodded. “And,” I added slowly, “I enjoyed your company.”
Alice smiled a little at that. “And I yours.”
I walked her out, and Alice paused before getting into her car.
“This could be crucial,” she said. “You’ll follow it up, won’t you?” She looked regretful. “I couldn’t come, even if you’d let me. I’ve Sarah to look after, and my course.”
“I’ll be sure to investigate it fully, Alice. Look, here,” I gave her one of my business cards, “text me. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
She accepted it with a nod. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I watched her as she got into her car and drove off, leaving me to my short walk home. At least it had stopped raining.
The walk cleared any remaining cobwebs left by the alcohol, and I turned over the new information in my head repeatedly. If Graham had had a troubled youth, had someone returned for him? Was it some decades-old grudge, or money Graham had owed?
But the cause of death had looked like suicide. In fact, the overdose being the same as Sarah’s medicine suggested that if someone had killed him, they had known the family well enough to know what medicine Sarah took. And that worried me far more than the prospect of some ghoulish phantom rising up from Graham’s past. A local killer right here in Lockdale was far too close to home.
Eleven
“Blasted dog,” I said, after nearly falling over Lexi again as I came into the station. I still paused to ruffle her ears, though. “One day,” I said to her, “you’ll send me flying and I’ll crack my head right open on the desk, and you’ll still have that stupid grin on your face, you silly dog.”
She barked, as if in agreement.
I shook my head and headed over to my desk, Lexi still butting up against my legs. My trousers were coated in dog hair again like I’d rolled in it.
“Christ’s sake,” I muttered, trying to knock it off, but Lexi was still rubbing up against me. I gave up.
Kay came out of the break room with a cup of coffee and her eyes lit up when she saw me.
“Here we go,” I muttered.
“How was it then?” Kay demanded, coming straight over. Samuel stuck his head around the side of his desk.
“What’s this?” Maha said, at her desk and busy filling in paperwork.
“Darren had a date,” Kay said, sing-song.
Maha looked up with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you and Alice Stewart were dating, sir,” she said, looking faintly disapproving.
I groaned and put my head on the desk as Kay laughed.
“That’s who he went on a date with!” she said.
Maha made a noise of amusement. “If it stops you two making eyes at each other, then I say go for it, sir,” she said.
I sat up. “I’m not saying anything till I’ve had coffee.” I got up to make good on that and Kay trailed behind me.
“Mitchell!” Hogan called from her office. I tensed, wondering whether I was going to get questioned about Alice by my boss too. “Tea, if you’re making one?” she said hopefully.
“Coming right up,” I said, relieved.
I made myself and Hogan drinks while Kay pestered me, delivering Hogan’s mug to her office.
“Kay,” I said finally. “We need to talk about the case, alright?”
She sobered immediately, a frown settling on her face. “New information?” she said.
I nodded. “We talked to Graham’s old friends last night. Apparently, he did some work with a homeless shelter on Vicar street in York.”
Kay nodded. “I know the one.” I looked at her, surprised. “What? Anna and I have taken food over, baked things and that.”
“Oh. That’s good,” I said, fast recalculating. “You’ll know some of the staff then?”
Kay pulled a face. “We’re not regular volunteers, but I might recognise one or two. You want to pay a visit?”
We headed over as soon as we’d let Hogan know where we were going. She’d looked exasperated to hear it.
“Other cases, this afternoon, Mitchell, do you hear?” she said, and I’d grudgingly nodded.
We drove to York, Kay at the wheel which left me in charge of the radio, much to Kay’s annoyance.
“This isn’t music,” she said.
“AC/DC fans all over the world would disagree,” I said, heartily enjoying winding her up after the gleeful pleasure she’d taken in quizzing me about last night.
“What fans?” she muttered. “They screech like dying cats.”
“Harsh.”
“To the cats? I agree.”
I shook my head with a smile. After tormenting Kay a few minutes longer, I switched it back to radio two, which had some kind of a quiz show going on. Kay took great amusement in berating the contestants when they mucked up the answers.
I checked my phone for the dozenth time that morning, but there was still no text from Alice. She was probably still in bed at this time, as it was only just gone ten. It didn’t stop me from clicking my phone on repeatedly, even as it meant having to suffer Kay’s knowing look.
We’d called ahead to the shelter, so they’d be expecting us when we arrived.
“I’m DI Mitchell, from the Lockdale police department,” I said at the entrance.
“DS McGregor,” Kay introduced herself, and we were both waved inside.
“Alistair Singer,” the shelter volunteer said, and we shook hands.
“Thank you for seeing us,” I said. “Do you think we could have a talk somewhere private?”
We’d been walking through a bustling community hub, and I had to raise my voice slightly to make himself heard.
“Right through here,” Alistair said, directly us into a cramped, grey room so full of filing cabinets there was hardly space fo
r one person let alone three.
Still, Alistair squeezed himself behind a tiny desk, and I waved Kay to sit on the one folding chair while I leaned against the one tiny bit of spare wall space.
“So what can I do for you two?” Alistair said. He continued with the air of someone who’d said the same thing many times over, “If it’s about one of the residents, we don’t have cameras here and--”
“It’s not about one of the residents,” Kay said. “We’re actually looking into a man named Graham Stewart. We believe he volunteered here--”
“Oh, Graham!” Alistair’s expression turned warm and open, and I felt a wave of nausea at the thought of telling this man that Graham had passed. “He’s a wonderful volunteer, very reliable and very helpful. He stayed here as a lad, you know? He’s given a couple of talks about how he picked himself up, and he’s been a great help.” He looked between us, eyes bright. “He helps teach the ones trying to get their GCSEs, you know. Maths and English, though he’s a science teacher I think. Chemistry maybe?”
“Biology,” I said, and something in my face or my voice must have tipped Alistair off.
“He’s not in trouble is he?” he said, his face scrunched up with disbelief.
“No,” I said, and then stopped, not sure how to break the news. I was grateful when Kay stepped in.
“I’m very sorry to tell you, Mr Singer,” she said, “but Mr Stewart passed away a few days ago. We’re looking into the circumstances surrounding his death.”
“Oh,” Alistair said softly. “He wasn’t sixty yet, was he?”
“Fifty-five,” I said quietly, and he’d been as fit as I was.
“What was it then?” Alistair asked.
“Currently unexplained,” Kay said, “that’s why we’re looking into it.”
I flipped open my notebook and pushed my lingering emotional response away. “Can you tell us the last time he was here?”
DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3 Page 8
