Tooth and Claw
A DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thriller
Oliver Davies
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
A Message from the Author
Prologue
The vivid blue sky made the day look a great deal warmer than it was. My wife and I returned from the shops, bundled up to our noses in thick coats and scarves, and stepped gratefully into the warm house.
“Crikey,” I muttered, putting my bags down and flexing my frozen fingers. These days the cold made them painfully stiff, even when I was wearing gloves.
“That wind is biting,” my wife agreed.
She started to put the shopping away while I got the kettle on, making up hot mugs of tea to get the cold out of our bones. We settled in front of the gas fire in the lounge, and I checked my watch.
“I hope Douglas will drive Liam over. It’s awful cold for the lad to be walking around.”
My wife had picked up the latest issue of Gardeners’ World, which had arrived in the post while we were out, and it laid open on her lap.
“He’s a teenager, love,” she said without looking up. “They go around wearing shorts in this weather. It’s just us old fogies who have to wrap up, hm?”
She gave me a wry smile, and I chuckled.
“Maybe so,” I conceded.
Liam showed up at the door not long later, his bright ginger hair being blown every which way by the wind. His dad was there behind him, looking decidedly chilly, even with his furry hat on. Liam had a thick winter coat on, too, but he’d unzipped it at the front and was only wearing a t-shirt underneath. He gave me a sunny grin as I waved him inside, his face flushed red.
“Aren’t you freezing?” I had to say.
“Nope! I ran all the way here. When my dad was slow, I ran in circles, too.”
I shared an amused look with Douglas, who raised his eyebrows at me as if to say, ‘what can you do?’
“Really?” I said, turning back to Liam. “And why was that?”
He shucked off his coat and toed his school shoes off, leaving them on the mat. Douglas took his boots off too and neatly lined them up.
“I’m gonna win my sports day race this year, and you’ve got to start training early. It takes months!”
I nodded, giving him an impressed look while I hid a slight smile. The kid was ambitious and focused, and I knew better than to doubt him. I’d thought when he first visited my wife and me, proclaiming that he wanted to write articles on me for his school paper, that he’d lose interest soon enough. I’d expected him to come back perhaps once or twice more before he jumped into a new interest, as was natural for kids that age. But still, nearly a couple of years on, and he’d continued to call by regularly, his dream to be a big journalist like his dad remaining steadfast. The lad had sticking power, that was for sure.
Douglas shook my hand in greeting once Liam had stepped out of the way before taking himself off to the loo. I showed Liam through to the sitting room, listening to him talk enthusiastically about his training plans. He was quick to assure me that he wouldn’t stop practising to be a journalist or coming to meet me, though.
“Running events can take a good long time to prepare for,” I said when he ran out of breath. “What race are you gonna do on this sports day?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The relay, maybe, or the two-hundred-meters. Whatever I can win.”
He gave me a grin as he flopped onto the sofa, dumping his stuffed-full rucksack beside him before digging out his laptop. The gas fire was still flickering warmly in the grate, and I moved over to turn it down slightly so the room wouldn’t grow too stuffy.
“You’ve got plenty of time to get ready,” I said wryly. “Now, d’you want some hot chocolate, lad? We’ve got some scones in the oven too, nice and warm.”
“I don’t really like scones.” Liam wrinkled his nose.
“But yes to the hot chocolate?” I said, already knowing the answer.
He gave a firm nod, and I smiled, leaving him tinkering with his laptop as I fixed us some drinks in the kitchen. My wife was just finishing making herself a cup of tea and gave me a kiss on the cheek as she passed by.
“Don’t wear yourself out,” she told me fondly. “We have to be up early tomorrow, remember?”
“How could I forget?” I gave her a slight smile.
My memory might be something of a cheese grater these days when it came to the short term, but I certainly hadn’t forgotten the trip we’d be taking tomorrow. We’d been planning it for a good long while and, despite the long drive, we were both looking forward to getting out of the area and visiting our loved ones for the first time in a while.
Who knew for how much longer we’d be able to make the long journey? I thought, a little sadly. We had to make the most of it while we could, even if it might seem easier in the short term to stay comfortably at home.
I carried Liam’s hot chocolate, the mini-marshmallows bought by my wife especially for this occasion melting on top, and my cup of tea through to the lounge. I’d picked out scones for myself and Douglas, the smell of them making me hungry, and tipped some biscuits into a bowl for Liam. No doubt his dad wouldn’t thank me for filling the kid with sugar, but it was early enough that I didn’t think it’d spoil his tea.
“Thanks, Mr Mitchell,” Liam said as he slurped his drink, a chocolate moustache on his upper lip until he licked it off. Douglas sat down beside his son and gratefully took one of the scones.
“These look delicious. Homemade?”
“Aye, I can’t be doing with store-bought, not now we’ve got the time to make them.”
Douglas made an appreciative noise as he bit into one, and Liam munched on his biscuits, no doubt hungry after all his running about. I settled back in my chair with a sigh. There was something especially pleasant about sitting in a toasty house after having come in out of the cold, a fresh cup of tea in hand and the fire on. Listening to the wind wailing gave a deep-set feeling of comfort and safety, just knowing that the weather was harsh outside, but I was snug and protected in my own home.
After a short while, Liam was beginning to fidget, clearly eager to get started. I took a sip of my tea to wet my mouth and nodded to myself.
“What’ll it be today, then, Liam? Have you got any ideas?”
“Something new and cool and different,” he said, looking at me with perfect confidence that I’d be able to provide that for him. I couldn’t help but smile slightly.
“Alrighty, no pressure then. Any particular topic, lad, or theme?”
“Er.” He chewed on the ragged edge of his thumb, his gaze flicking around the room as he gave my question some thought. “I don’t know, really. I like the ones when I can add extra things in, you know? Like talking to the people who were there in the case or adding in pictures and stuff. So it’s not the story on its o
wn, like.” He gave me an earnest look. “My dad always says it’s good to have lots of different angles.”
Douglas smiled, and I gave him a nod.
“That sounds like solid advice.” I rubbed a hand over my chin. “Well, I don’t know about people you can talk to, but we could do something about the pictures if you like. I’m sure we’ve got boxes full of photo albums upstairs. I always mean to scan them into a computer one day, but I haven’t got round to it yet.”
That’d be a job for a day like today if I didn’t have the lad visiting, with the weather miserable and nowt else to do. For now, though, Liam followed me curiously upstairs and over to the hatch that opened into the loft. It was in the hallway ceiling, and I had to fetch the ladder from the glory hole, which Douglas picked up and carried for me. A shame I wasn’t still his age, I thought as Liam’s dad moved the ladder with ease, but you couldn’t argue with time.
I asked Douglas to keep a good hold on the ladder, and then I ventured up into the dusty loft, fumbling around for the light switch. When it came on with a tired buzz, it illuminated the mess of accumulated boxes we had stored up there. We had an old cot up there, covered with a couple of bin bags, and I touched it briefly as I passed. Some things were hard to throw out, and even though my wife had been mentioning it for years, we’d never quite taken the trip to the tip.
After rummaging around for a few minutes, being careful where I put my feet, I dug up the two boxes of photo albums. Brushing off the dust and a couple of dead flies, I carried them carefully over to the hatch. I leaned down to put them on the top of the ladder for Liam and Douglas to take down. Douglas had offered to come up here in my stead, and he seemed a touch anxious for my safety, but I knew myself capable of climbing a ladder, and it was quicker for me to pull out the boxes than try to describe them to him.
Being careful not to touch the insulation, I made my way back down to the familiar hallway, welcoming the warmth and the lack of dust. Liam had already opened up one of the boxes, and we left him to have a poke through while Douglas propped the ladder against the wall, and I went to wash the muck off my hands before I accidentally got it in my eyes.
“C’mon, let’s take those down to the lounge,” I prompted, and Liam obediently took one box while I carried the other.
Just that short trip was enough to make me grateful to sit back down again, the dust making my lungs a little tight. I took a sip of tea and then looked over at the photo albums Liam had already got out of the boxes, spreading them out on the coffee table. I’d pulled up a seat next to the sofa, rather than the chair opposite where I usually sat so that I could see the photos that he and Douglas were looking at.
“Have you got one for your police days?” Liam asked, flicking quickly through me and my wife’s wedding album with a clear lack of interest.
I picked up the book once he pushed it aside and lingered on a picture of my wife and me, looking young and full of love for each other. It’d been a bright Spring day for it, though the wind had kept trying to dislodge my wife’s veil from her hair. The photographer had caught some beautifully natural pictures of us both laughing, her holding onto her headpiece, and my curly hair fluffed up like ruffled feathers.
“You both look happy,” Douglas said, noticing what I was looking at.
“We were. We were very much in love,” I said simply. And we still are, I thought. I was still looking at the photograph when Liam pointedly pushed a different album towards me.
“What about this one? That’s Stephen Huxley, isn’t it? DI Huxley?” he said, clearly eager to get on with hearing about a case.
I set the wedding album aside, planning to look it over properly later, and took the one Liam had been looking at. It was a collection of photos from a trip to Greece that I’d gone on with Stephen and a few other mates from the station.
“Were you there to solve crimes?” Liam asked hopefully.
“Afraid not, lad. That was just a holiday. I haven’t done all that much travelling for work, really.”
“Oh.” Liam’s shoulders sank, but he quickly picked up a new book of photos, and his interest renewed.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, just the rustle of pages turning and the wind bumping against the windows in the background. I heard the floorboards creak upstairs as my wife moved around and knew that she was getting ready to go out and meet a friend at Betty’s for an afternoon tea treat. She’d offered to rearrange it for another day so that we could both go, but the friend was more hers than mine, and I’d waved her off, telling her to bring me back a slice of good fruit cake or a Bakewell tart.
“Hey, what’s that?” Liam asked, leaning over to see the photos I’d been idly looking through.
I smiled at his interest and pulled the photo out of its plastic pocket. Douglas leaned over to have a look.
“This is a puppy we adopted a long time ago now, really.”
“What did you call it?” Liam said, looking smitten.
“When we adopted him from the rescue centre, he already responded to Chance, so we kept that name.”
“He’s so cute.”
I pulled out more pictures of Chance, each one showing him getting rapidly bigger. He’d been a good dog, full of energy and affectionate.
“Why don’t you have a dog now? I’ve always wanted one.” Liam said. He cast a slightly petulant look towards his dad.
“Ach, my old legs aren’t up to walking one these days.”
“I could walk it for you!”
“That’s kind, lad.”
“Or you could get a cat. They don’t need walks,” he offered.
“Aye, that’s not a bad idea.” I nodded with a slight smile. “But here, there’s a story attached to Chance, actually, if you’re up for hearing it.”
Liam perked up. “Yes, please!”
He finished off the last dregs of his hot chocolate and pulled his laptop closer, giving me an eagerly expectant look.
“Now, it’s a bit of a sad one,” I warned him, glancing at Douglas. “Some animals got hurt, as best as we tried to help them. Is that alright, lad?”
“Yeah, I don’t mind.” He didn’t look entirely sure about it, though, and I wondered whether I should think of a different story to tell him. “Really, Mr Mitchell, I’ll be fine,” he assured me as I hesitated.
I looked over at Douglas for confirmation, and he gave a small shrug, patting Liam’s shoulder.
“Liam will say if it’s too sad, won’t you, son?” he said, and Liam gave a quick nod of agreement.
“Alrighty then,” I said, “but speak up if it gets too heavy. I don’t want to be giving you bad dreams. There’s no shame in admitting that you don’t want to hear anymore.”
Liam nodded again. I told myself I’d tell the story faithfully, but try to keep it from becoming too intense. The lad was growing up fast, but he was still a teenager. At that age, they started to think of themselves as adults, but they weren’t actually there yet.
And now that I was thinking about it, the case that led to adopting Chance had been a hard one for other, personal reasons.
“Are you sure you want to tell it, Darren?” Douglas asked after a moment, perhaps catching the hesitance in my expression. He was frowning slightly in concern. “I’m sure we can find-”
“No, no, it’s all good.” I waved him off, but with a grateful look. He was a good man, Douglas, with a good kid too, I thought.
I held the photo in my hands, the paper trembling slightly, and smiled at the dog’s goofy face. I’d tell the case, and maybe Liam wouldn’t quite understand fully, but he might do later on.
“Sometimes you have to go through some difficult times, Liam,” I started, “before you get to understand why they happened. That’s what happened then, but it worked out for the best in the end, what with Chance coming into our lives.”
One
It’d been nearly two months since Sam left in November, and I was still missing her.
“Darren, mate, are you even listen
ing?”
I looked up, finding my partner Stephen looking at me with raised eyebrows. It was late in the day, and my mind kept wandering away from work and away from what Stephen was saying, too, apparently.
“You can’t believe your kid is already at school?” I tried.
“That was five minutes ago.” Stephen rolled his eyes at me, leaning his elbow on the desk and giving me a long look. “If you’re gonna keep mooning after Sam, you might as well fetch us both some coffee while you’re at it. Make yourself useful instead of checking your phone all the time.”
“Oh, shut up. It’s her birthday soon, and she hasn’t told me what she wants yet.”
“You know her back to front, seriously. You can come up with some perfect, personal, romantic gift yourself. Use that big brain of yours.”
I huffed a laugh at that. “If I’m gonna be doing that, then you’re right. We do need some more coffee.”
I headed over to the break room without waiting for a reply, but I could clearly picture the exasperated expression that would be on his face. When I’d first arrived at Hewford, Stephen and I had rubbed each other the wrong way for a while, partly because he hadn’t thought much of my past as a country detective, way out in the sticks. But now he was my closest mate, and I’d trust the bloke with my life which, in this job, became relevant more often than I’d like.
The break room was quiet, and I thought again about Sam as I made our drinks. Before she’d moved to Kent for her new job, she’d worked in the labs upstairs, and we’d bump into each other around work on occasion. Though not that often, I admitted to myself, since I was often out of the office and she’d been kept as busy as I was with work for the station. Now she wasn’t just a flight of stairs away, but across the country.
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 1
