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

the work being done on the death of James Fletcher, Harry had the ever-keen Jadyn working on it, doing another drive around various farms, and even though it was a desperate move, checking up on the small collection of cigarette butts from the auction mart they’d sent off to forensics.

A couple of miles further, after they’d crossed over a river, he’d taken a right down a thin lane until they’d passed an old railway viaduct. A mile or so further, and a small cottage had come into view and Matt had pulled them through the open gate and onto a small gravel drive. The house, Harry noted, was a small farm cottage, with a slate roof, and a garden not so much overgrown as allowed to run wild, but within reason, as though the owner did just enough to keep it in check, but not enough to make it look controlled. This was the garden of someone who clearly relished freedom though, but what that told Harry about the woman they were about to meet he wasn’t exactly sure.

‘Nice little place,’ Matt said, leaning over the steering wheel to glance up at the cottage. ‘Converted barn by the looks of things.’

Harry climbed out of the car, hunching his coat up against the cold. ‘Looks a bit quiet, doesn’t it?’

‘It does that,’ Matt agreed.

‘And we’re sure Jadyn called ahead?’

‘I was there when he did it,’ Matt said. ‘Very polite he was and didn’t give anything away.’

‘So, as far as she’s concerned, we’re visiting about booking her,’ Harry said. ‘I just don’t like turning up at quiet houses. Always makes me think something’s not quite right.’

‘A naturally suspicious nature.’

‘Something like that, yes.’

Harry stepped away from the car and walked over to the front door of the cottage. There was no electric buzzer that he could see so he rapped his knuckle against the wood. The sound echoed inside the house.

‘Shall I go check round the back?’ Matt asked.

‘Might be a good idea,’ Harry said, knocking again, but as Matt set off to head through a side gate, there was a sound of a chain being rattled on the other side of the door.

Harry stepped back so as to avoid being completely in the face of the owner.

The door opened and Harry found himself staring down into the face of a woman he guessed to be at least eighty years old, with bright, piercing eyes and a warm smile.

‘Hello,’ Harry said, a little confused, as whoever this was, she didn’t match the description of the woman that they’d been given by Dan, Pat, and Ruth.

‘You’ve come about a possible booking, yes?’ the woman said. ‘Do come in!’

Harry hesitated. ‘Can I ask your name, please?’

Harry saw a flicker of distrust in the woman’s eyes.

‘We’re police,’ Harry said, and showed her his identification.

The woman leaned in, eyes squinting, as she said, ‘Oh, well, so you are. I’m Mrs Sanford. Is something the matter?’

Matt appeared by Harry’s side, saw the woman, and frowned. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well, this can’t be right, can it, Boss?’

Harry didn’t answer, his focus still on the woman in front of him.

‘What can’t be right?’ the woman asked. ‘If you’re a little nervous, that’s okay, you know. People do find what I do a little bit strange to begin with. I don’t think I’ve ever done a consultation with the police. How exciting! Is it a crime? Is that what you need help with? I saw a programme on television once, it was American I think, where the police had a psychic consultant. It was fascinating! And I promise to be as helpful as I can!’

‘And what is it that you do exactly?’ Harry asked.

‘Why, I’m a medium,’ the woman said, and Harry heard the surprise in her voice at being asked. ‘But you know that already, don’t you? Would you like some tea?’

‘And your name is Sanford?’ Matt asked.

‘Yes, that’s what I said,’ the woman replied. ‘Grace Sanford.’

‘Grace?’ Harry said now beginning to wonder just what the hell was going on. ‘Are you sure?’

A look of sharp indignation cut across Grace’s kindly face. ‘Of course I’m sure!’ she said. ‘It’s my name, isn’t it? I may be eighty-five, but I’m not about to forget that, am I? Named after my own aunt. And she had the gift, too, you know.’

‘Then who’s Beverly when she’s at home?’ Matt asked, looking to Harry.

‘Beverly?’ Grace said. said. ‘You mean my granddaughter?’

‘Do I?’ Harry asked.

‘What has that girl done now, may I ask?’

‘We thought you were her,’ Matt said.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m not!’ Grace replied. ‘Is she in some kind of trouble?’

Harry said, ‘You just asked what she’d done now, implying that she’s been in trouble with the law before.’

Grace folded her arms, rolled her eyes. ‘She has the gift, like me,’ she said, ‘but she’s a little too keen to get some recognition for it. I think she just gets a bit carried away, you know, but it’s not the best way to do things, is it?’

‘Do you know where she is?’ Matt asked. ‘We were supposed to be meeting her here.’

‘Well, she was here until a few minutes ago,’ Grace replied. ‘She’s been a bit odd today. All started when we were watching the local news and there was something about a fire I think, over Hawes way. Anyway, she had jobs to do, around the house, and she was obviously in a rush to get off when she eventually left. Flew off out of here at goodness knows what speed. Honestly, she’ll get herself killed driving like that!’

‘What car was she in?’

‘Mine actually,’ Grace said. ‘Hers is in the garage, on account of it being an old Mini and not very happy about the cold weather. But will she get a new one? Of course not! So stubborn!’

Harry held up a hand in an attempt to stop Grace from talking so much. ‘Can you give us your car’s details, please, Mrs Sanford?’

‘Of course I can,’ Grace replied. ‘She’s probably back