DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3

by Oliver Davies

  He looked at me. “Someone told you strong coffee would make your hair fall out?”

  I grinned. “They did. Some older guy who I was talking to in his house, he offered me a drink, and then said I’d lose all my hair by forty if I drank anything stronger than tea.”

  Stephen blinked. “Sounds like an interesting guy.”

  “Sure was.”

  Stephen’s stomach grumbled aloud, and my own belly felt a little unhappy with only coffee in it. “Second lunch?” I suggested.

  We headed over the road for more sandwiches and ate at our desks. In my case, I was trying not to get mayonnaise on my paperwork, but the sandwich was tasty enough to be worth it when I eventually did.

  Looking back over everything, I thought again about how different Dan’s extremely messy killing of the birds had been to whoever had snared and strangled the first ones.

  “How do people learn that kind of thing?” I wondered aloud, my chin in my hand as I frowned.

  “What?” Stephen said, breaking me out of my thoughts. He was looking at me like I was short of a marble or two. “Learn what?”

  I waved a hand vaguely. “Killing birds so neatly. Like, it could’ve been practice, sure, which would be creepy enough. But absolutely everything’s on the internet these days…”

  “So you were thinking they like, what, watched a YouTube video on murdering birds in a discreet way?”

  “Yeah?” I said. “People do hunt with snares, don’t they? It’s not illegal in wild places.”

  “Not the centre of York, though.”

  “No,” I agreed. “But, still, they could’ve gotten the skills online.”

  Stephen shrugged. “Maybe so, but how does that help exactly?”

  I pulled a face. “I don’t know, really. I was spitballing.”

  Stephen looked unconvinced by my theory but still offered, “Well, you could see if the tech guys have a minute to look into it. See if they can, I don’t know, see if anyone local’s been doing that sort of thing.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know if they can do that, it’s basically all wizardry to me.”

  Stephen looked sympathetic. “Oh, I’m the same. My wife’s a tech expert, where I struggle to even get the TV to work sometimes. Who needs a goddamn smart TV, anyway, right? I was fine with dumb TVs that you could operate with buttons and-”

  “Gave you a static shock when you touched the screen? The ones that were as deep as they were wide?” I joked.

  He gave me a false glare. “Yeah, those. At least I didn’t need, like, a ritual offering to make those old things play Gardeners’ World.”

  I shook my head, laughing quietly. “Sure, mate.” I patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll all be controlled by your mind soon enough, so I wouldn’t bother learning to be honest.”

  Stephen smiled back. “That’s what I tell my other half! But she doesn’t seem to find it funny.”

  I left him to his paperwork and went off to talk to the tech guys in the hope that they wouldn’t laugh at me when I told them what I was looking for.

  And they didn’t laugh, to my relief, but the tech guy did pull a dubious expression.

  “I’ll give it a shot,” he said, with a Yorkshire accent thick enough to rival mine when I was annoyed. “But I don’t promise anything, alright? We usually need a bit more information than that.”

  “Yeah,” I said apologetically. “Sorry. It’ll probably be someone fairly young, since their attention seemed focused on this university student. And it’ll be primarily methods of snaring birds, not shooting or anything. We thought there might be some kind of hunting forum, or YouTube channel, one local to Yorkshire or something.” The guy, Andrew, nodded, but he still looked hesitant. I sighed. “Well, don’t worry about it. If you find something, that’d be magic, but I know I’m asking a lot.”

  “I’ll have a go, no worries.”

  “Ta,” I nodded and jogged back down the stairs.

  “Any luck?” Stephen asked.

  I shrugged. “He didn’t say it was impossible.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with the paperwork from Abby’s second incident report, following up a couple of calls to the university, and filling in Gaskell on what had gone on so far. Gaskell was somewhat distracted by another case that was commanding more of his attention and only wanted the CliffsNotes version, trusting us to deal with the case best as possible.

  Stephen left at half five on the dot, wanting to be back home to see the kids and made tea for his wife, no doubt, and I headed out fairly soon after, since there wasn’t much more to be done right now.

  I switched into the running gear I’d stashed in the locker I’d been given downstairs and took the long way home.

  It was a pleasant day, still surprisingly warm even as the autumn evenings began to close in. It was getting towards mid-September, but still mild enough that I only needed a base layer when I was out running, and for work, a blazer over my work shirt in the cool mornings was more than enough.

  The leaves had started to turn too, which brought the attractiveness of York out best, with the sunset oranges and reds setting off the yellow stone walls and buildings. But the leaves hadn’t started falling yet, so I didn’t have to watch out for slippery patches as I ran and so I made quick progress through town up towards Clifford's tower and the museum which looked stately against the faded blue sky.

  I ran alongside the river for a short way, before dusk started setting in and my legs were getting heavy. I hadn’t been running as much here in York as I had in Lockdale, and the evening run was enough to tire me out fully, even with barely any hills involved. York was definitely beautiful, but it was also stubbornly flat, which was a damn shame for a fell runner. I’d have to hunt out some hilly parts, or maybe sprint up and down the Clifford’s tower hill a few dozen times, if I got really desperate. There was a sign telling people not to do that, however, and it might look a little naff for a police officer to go ignoring public safety signs, I told myself wryly.

  Overall, I felt relatively peaceful as I headed back towards my rented flat, which was probably going to be chilly, since I’d forgotten to put a timer on the heating. I was looking forward to a hot shower and watching TV with a beer or a glass of wine, if I had any in. I hadn’t forgotten Abby’s case, and I knew it’d stay ticking over at the back of my mind, probably for most of the evening, but the run had given me something of a break from my brain picking it all apart and putting it back together over and over. Stephen and I would get stuck back in tomorrow, but the success of at least getting Dan to own up had earned both of us a quiet night.

  Five

  The heavens opened as I was jogging to work in the morning and left me looking like I’d gone for a swim by the time I arrived. The lady at the front desk hid a smile behind her hand, and I gave her a sheepish grin in return. I headed straight for the showers to get myself presentable, before climbing up the stairs to the third floor. My legs protested on the way up, and I tutted at myself. My fitness level had dropped since coming to York, and I was getting to the point where it would only become much harder to get back to peak condition if I didn’t do something about it soon. I really did need to find some hills, or God forbid, go to a gym and use an uphill treadmill.

  “Why’re you looking so glum?” Stephen asked as I came in. He was dressed warmly and had an enormous mug of tea on the table in front of him.

  “Is that a soup bowl?” I asked, coming over.

  Stephen looked at me, unimpressed. “It’s mine. You’re not stealing it to fill it with your deadly coffee.”

  “The thought never crossed my mind,” I lied cheerfully.

  “You dodged my question,” Stephen noted. “Why the long face? Isn’t running meant to give you a high or something?”

  I huffed, flopping down into my work chair with a slight wince at the ache in my thighs. “Oh, I’m missing running on the fells.” Stephen groaned, tipping his head back. I looked at him in amusement. “What?”

/>   “Really?” he said. “Not only do you run for fun, but you run up mountains?”

  I snorted, waiting for my computer to load up while Stephen looked at me like I was an alien for liking exercise. “They weren’t exactly mountains. Though I did run up Snowdon once.”

  Stephen rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. And probably while you were on holiday, too. For fun.”

  “Yep,” I said chuckling. “You should try it sometime.”

  He glared at me, a smile still twitching at his mouth. “Are you saying I’m fat, DCI Mitchell?”

  “Wouldn’t dare, DI Huxley.”

  He shook his head at me. My computer finally loaded up, and I opened up my emails, leaning forwards when I saw that there was one from the lab team.

  “Anything interesting?” Stephen said.

  I scanned the email and nodded in satisfaction. “Sam, from the lab folks, says her investigations confirm the conclusions we came to. And what Dan said.”

  “The birds weren’t strangled; they were killed with a skewer?”

  “Yes, followed by a lot of messiness afterwards.”

  “Grim.” He paused. “And the tech team? Anything back about your internet hunch?”

  “Not yet, but they’re probably busy with bigger cases-”

  My desk phone rang as I was speaking. Surprised, I leaned forwards to pick it up, wondering if it was Gaskell wanting an update.

  “Hi, this is Andrew,” a strong Yorkshire accent said on the other end, and it took me a second to place the name. Andrew, the tech guy.

  “Hi,” I said, “have you got something?” I couldn’t keep the hopefulness out of my voice.

  “We might have,” Andrew said. “I thought it was going to be looking for a needle in a haystack… in the dark, kind of thing, you know? And we didn’t find any forums on hunting with snares specific to York, or not any that looked useful to you.”

  “But?” I prompted.

  “But we did find a website that looked of interest to your case or looked possibly illegal at least.”

  “Possibly illegal?”

  “Yeah, it’s selling dead animals, specifically birds, but also other small critters. Claims they’re roadkill, but also promises no major damage so…”

  “So, they could’ve been strangled, like in our case,” I said slowly.

  Andrew made a noncommittal sound. “Look, might be nothing, but it seemed like it might be up your street, and, more importantly, it’s been accessed by someone in the area recently. I’ve sent you an encrypted link in an email, you’ll be accessing it through a VPN, so the owner of the site won’t be able to tell you’re using it from the police station.”

  “Thanks, thank you, Andrew, that’s a big help.”

  “Sure, no worries.”

  He hung up, and I refreshed my email, waiting for the link to come through.

  “I’m guessing they found something?”

  I gave him a distracted nod as the email appeared, and I loaded up this ‘possibly illegal’ website that Andrew had found. Stephen wheeled his chair closer to peer over my shoulder.

  “What’s this, then?”

  “Some site that sells dead animals,” I said, frowning.

  “And you think it’s related?”

  “I think it could be. Someone local’s been on it so maybe…”

  “The person behind the website sold the first birds that were left outside Abby’s door?” Stephen said, sounding both hopeful and doubting at once.

  “Yeah, it’s possible.” I wasn’t totally convinced either, but it was a lead, and we badly needed one. “I reckon we pose as a buyer, try to lure this person out.”

  Stephen nodded. “Better tell the supe, though,” he said, meaning Gaskell. “This is all slightly illegal.”

  I shot him a grin. “I will. How about you pick out a nice dead bird for us, and I’ll fill Gaskell in.”

  Stephen glared at me in mock outrage. “How come I’m the one who has to look through the gross website?” he demanded, but I was already walking away.

  Gaskell approved the plan, seeming a bit distracted, and Stephen and I placed an order on the dodgy-looking website. It gave us a set of coordinates that weren’t far at all, confirming that the site was locally based, or at least had someone physically in the area.

  “The birds have got to be pretty fresh,” I said, musing aloud. “The first ones were, Sam said so. So if we go stake these coordinates out-”

  “Hopefully someone will show up pretty close to the drop off time.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Precisely.”

  With the go-ahead from Gaskell, Stephen and I headed over to the coordinates in a civilian car. The location was some ways out of town in an industrial area, where there were a lot of large, grey warehouses, all of which seemed to be abandoned.

  Crawling slowly along the rutted road, Stephen and I shared a glance. This place, apart from the warehouse buildings, had little cover and there didn’t seem to be much in the way of spots where we could see anyone entering the area from which they wouldn’t see us too.

  In the end, we pulled up around the side of one of the warehouses. I wish we’d had another pair of cops with us to act as another pair of eyes, but this wasn’t a big enough case for that. We’d already used far more resources than I would’ve gotten for a much larger case in the small town of Lockdale. I reckoned that, if we didn’t dig up something significant soon, Gaskell was probably going to get impatient with us and switch us onto another case.

  As we sat there and waited, I thought it all over, and the problem was, I didn’t feel like this was the end of it. I didn’t think the dead birds had been a one-off act of intimidation, but part of something bigger. Dan’s copycat attempt had shown us exactly what an amateur would have done if they’d wanted to scare somebody, but the initial incident? That had been entirely different, and I didn’t like it one bit. But maybe I was catastrophising, turning this into something it wasn’t.

  We waited until it was almost dusk, and we’d both had to get out of the car a couple of times to stop our legs from going completely numb. I was bored, antsy and hungry, and I knew Stephen was feeling the same as he kept checking his watch.

  “We’re not staying here all night, right, Mitchell?” he said, making it clear what answer he wanted.

  I clenched my jaw. The pickup time for the birds was in the morning, and I had hoped that they’d be dropped off today and we could swoop in. But it looked like the drop off would happen overnight and clearly, Stephen didn’t want to spend the night in a cold car waiting for an animal killer to show up.

  “We go, and we’ll miss them for sure,” I said.

  “They’ll be other chances, okay?”

  “Will there?” I demanded. “This has been our biggest lead so far.”

  “What if we wait all night and they don’t even show?”

  “Then at least we’ll know.”

  Stephen exhaled heavily. “Look, you don’t have a partner, and you don’t have kids. This isn’t life or death. I do my nine-to-five, and then I go home to my family, you understand?”

  I’d been thirsty for an hour or more, and it was giving me a headache. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to fend off the aching feeling, before nodding.

  “Yeah, alright,” I relented. If I’d been working alone, I would’ve stayed, but I reckon it would’ve permanently soured Stephen and I’s working relationship for me to tell him that we were staying. And he was right. This wasn’t a murderer we were trying to catch; this was some creepy stalker. Of course, I wanted them caught, but the consequences of leaving it a day or two longer wouldn’t be dire. I hoped.

  I turned the key in the car’s ignition and set off back towards the station. I hadn’t brought my car to work today, since I’d run in this morning, and for once I didn’t really feel like running home. But I knew Stephen lived in the opposite direction to where I was, and he was itching to be back. I could see his knee moving in the passenger seat footwell, like h
e was trying to press the accelerator because I was driving too slowly for his taste.

  “We’ll go early tomorrow,” Stephen offered.

  “Sure.”

  After dropping Stephen off near his car, I parked the station-owned car up and went into the quiet building to fetch my things. There was almost always someone there, by nature of it being a fairly large city station, but it was certainly quieter than it usually was. I picked up my running gear and got reluctantly changed, before jogging steadily home by the most direct route, for once, not in the mood for a long run.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if whoever had dumped the birds outside Abby’s was out at the industrial site dropping off more dead birds right now. That, if we’d waited another hour or so, we’d have caught them and the case would then be more easily rounded off. But that wasn’t helpful thinking. Tomorrow was a new day, and it would hopefully be a useful one.

  Six

  “Sorry, man,” Stephen said, when we turned up to the industrial site early the next morning. There was a plastic bag with two dead magpies inside.

  I sighed. “Never mind.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t expected this. If Gaskell had been willing to give us another team, or Stephen hadn’t had his family to get home to, perhaps we could’ve waited out the night.

  Pulling on plastic gloves from a box in the glove box of the car, I carefully picked the bag up and put it into one of the the largest sized evidence bags we had, which it still only just fitted.

  “Let’s see if the labs people can get anything off these,” I said as we headed back to the car. Stephen had his head down, like he was feeling guilty and I nudged him. “Don’t look so miserable. It’ll work out.”

  He looked up, his expression surprised and then split into a grin. “I was looking for tyre tracks,” he chuckled at my chagrin. “I’m not feeling that guilty, sorry, Mitchell. My wife was upset enough with me being a half-hour late.”

  I huffed. “Doesn’t she know it kind of comes with the job?” I said grumpily.