Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5) by David Gatward (best love novels of all time .txt) 📕

‘Forensics had a look, if you remember, to see if they could get anything, you know, tyre marks and whatnot. There’s some up by the barn, too, like, and they’re a match. The tracks in the field connect both scenes, but unless we find the vehicles, it’s sod all use to anyone.’

‘Anything else?’ Harry asked. ‘Because whatnot isn’t of much use to anyone, is it?’

‘A few cigarette butts,’ Jadyn said. ‘Though the DNA hasn’t come up with any matches.’

‘If we catch them, that could come in useful,’ Harry said, taking a stingingly hot sip of his tea.

‘Apparently, they’re posh cigarettes though,’ Jadyn added. ‘So, that’s something, isn’t it?’

‘Posh?’ Harry said, raising an eyebrow. ‘How do you mean? Since when has any cigarette been posh?’

‘They’re French,’ Jadyn said. ‘Gauloises.’

‘Well, you don’t find those in your average newsagent,’ Matt said.

‘No, you don’t,’ Harry agreed. ‘So, they’re either from a specialist tobacconist, bought online, or brought back from a holiday.’

‘Wait, there’s such a thing as a specialist tobacconist?’ Jadyn asked.

‘There’s a cracking little one in Bristol,’ Harry said. ‘Like travelling back in time.’

‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ Matt said.

‘I don’t,’ Harry replied. ‘But a cigar at Christmas is nice now and again, right?’

‘What about damage to property?’ Matt asked.

‘Nothing,’ Harry said, ‘other than a cut padlock. Whoever they were, they did the job as clean as they could. They knew where they were going to hit, and when. Drove up through the fields, reversed up to the back of the barn, loaded up the sheep, and were gone. They weren’t there to rip gates off.’

‘You’d think someone would’ve spotted them though,’ Jadyn said, ‘and called it in.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Harry said. ‘Really, what would they have seen to report? A truck being loaded up with sheep? This is Wensleydale, remember. That kind of thing happens every day of the week as far as I can tell. I mean, Hawes is a place where farmers walk their flock through the centre of town!’

It didn’t happen much, but when Harry had first seen it, he’d been more than a little surprised. The tourists had loved it, the locals barely noticing it at all. He’d half wondered if it was something for a television show, but seeing no cameras and the fact that everyone seemed to regard it as entirely normal had told him otherwise.

‘What about down at the roadside?’ Jadyn suggested. ‘Must’ve been a fair few people and vehicles involved.’

‘And anyone driving by would have just seen people going about farming business,’ Matt said. ‘Farmers work odd hours. Bit like us in that, really. And that bit of road, you wouldn’t see much anyway. The layby is on a bend, there’s trees all around it; you’d not see much even if you were looking.’

‘So, what will they do with the sheep, then?’ Jadyn asked, stepping away from the board to have a look at his notes.

‘Black market meat, at a guess,’ Harry said, the sadness and disgust in his voice impossible to disguise, because they’d all heard what Jim had said about his dad’s flock, and the thought of all those years of work just ending up in some dodgy Friday night kebabs was more than a little hard to take. But it wasn’t just the cheap places that took the cheap meat, was it? ‘It’s easy money and there’s always someone out there who’ll buy it. Back down in Bristol, I had to deal with a few places that were selling the stuff. Not your dodgy late-night takeaways either. Well, a few were, but there were high-end places, too. Restaurants with high rents, tight margins. You’d be surprised.’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Matt said. ‘Which is a shame, really, isn’t it? And that flock, seeing as it’s Jim’s dad, they won’t be just your average, everyday normal sheep either. It’s a prize flock. You remember all those rosettes and certificates on the walls in the kitchen? Takes years of work and breeding, does that. It’s just a waste.’

Harry thought back to when they’d visited the farm, remembering the rosettes. It only served to make him feel even worse about their seeming helplessness at what had happened.

‘Insurance will cover it, thought, right?’ Jadyn asked. ‘That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?’

‘The cost of it to Jim’s parents isn’t just in the value of the sheep,’ Matt said. ‘Though that won’t exactly be inconsiderable. Like I said, it takes years to breed a good flock. It’s Jim’s dad’s life’s work. And you can’t just replace that.’

‘Didn’t really think of it like that,’ Jadyn said.

Harry stared at the board. ‘You’ve got the details of the sheep, right?’

Matt said, ‘Yes, got the lot.’

‘And you’ve shared it around other areas, because the people who did this, they might not be local, but I doubt they’ve travelled too far. If this was done in the night, then my educated guess is that they’d want to be back home before daybreak.’

‘So, say a couple of hours’ journey time, right?’ Matt suggested.

‘Three at the most,’ Harry said. ‘You never know, we might hear something. And if forensics come in with anything new, share that, too. Auction mart is open on Tuesday, right?’

‘It is,’ Matt said.

‘Then maybe I’ll see if Gordy can come over and join us for a walk around. My face on its own is a little obvious, but Gordy would blend in well, wouldn’t she?’

‘Nice idea. Here,’ Matt said, holding out the paper bag he’d pulled from his pocket, little spots of grease marking its surface.

Harry reached over and removed a brownie.

‘Just so you know,’ Matt said, ‘the funeral for Helen Fletcher? It’s a week tomorrow. James Fletcher called in yesterday to let us know. I don’t really know why, but it was clearly something he wanted to do, so there we are.’

Harry thought about that for a moment, then said, ‘Maybe it’s his way of letting us know he’s okay.’

‘Could be,’ Matt said.

‘Actually,’ Jadyn said, ‘about that . . .’

‘About what?’ Harry asked.

‘Mr Fletcher.’

‘What about him?’

Jadyn was quiet for a moment then, and Harry