The Whitby Murders (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery), J. Ellis [free ebook novel TXT] 📗

second room, saying someone was hurt so I went straight to get the first aid kit, which is just by the entrance to the first room. That’s standard procedure if there are any accidents.’

‘Do those happen often?’

‘Naw, there’s nothing dangerous in there. Someone once fell and cut their leg and that’s about it.’

‘Okay. So, if you can come with the rest down to the station now and make full statements.’

Owen looked at Elaine and sighed but she only shrugged her shoulders.

When Louise, Maggie and Ben left the police station it was getting dark and still raining. They walked disconsolately up the hill out of the town to Pannett Park still dressed in their goth outfits, which now seemed outlandish and silly. The idea of goths and dressing up was now horrible. There were bloodstains on some of the garments but these were grotesquely real. Their Airbnb was in part of a grand Victorian terrace overlooking the park, which was now dark and wet with rain dripping off the trees.

Inside they flung themselves down on the sofas in exhaustion. While Louise was putting the kettle on, Maggie collapsed in tears again.

‘I just can’t believe it; it’s a bad dream.’

Ben comforted her. ‘I know.’

‘Where the hell is he? Has he gone mad? Maybe he’ll do himself in. Oh God! That’ll be even worse!’

Louise returned with mugs of tea. ‘Did either of you see him behaving strangely recently?’

‘No, nor her. I mean, they argued, didn’t they? But that wasn’t unusual.’

‘No.’ Louise looked very thoughtful. They all lapsed into silence again for a long time until Ben suggested they order some pizza.

‘Yeah, it’s a good idea, but I can’t eat much,’ said Maggie. ‘Shit! I should call Mark, but I can’t do it now. I’ll just break down on the phone.’

‘Wait until tomorrow,’ suggested Louise. ‘We’re all in shock now.’

The pizza arrived. They attempted to eat, without any enthusiasm. Nor could they settle to watch a film or anything on television. They remained sprawled on the sofas, stunned and quiet throughout the long evening.

Maggie went off to bed early, leaving Louise and Ben together. Ben had said the least of the three of them all evening. He was laid out on the sofa with his head facing the back.

‘How are you?’ asked Louise.

He turned over to face her. ‘Just exhausted and shocked and, I don’t know.’

‘It was the worst for you, trying to save her life. I don’t know how you did it.’

Ben shrugged. ‘I just did things automatically. It’s not long since I did some first aid training at work and it just kicked in. I wish it had been enough.’ He turned away from her again and sobbed. Louise went over and put her hand on his shoulder.

‘Ben, don’t; you did your best.’

His muffled voice said, ‘Maybe.’

‘You did. I was proud of you.’

‘Thanks.’

Louise sighed. ‘I think maybe we should go to bed too. Do you want a drink or anything first?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Well, I’m off up. Don’t stay up long and try not to go over it all in your mind.’

‘Okay.’

Louise left him still inert on the sofa and trudged wearily up the stairs.

Later in the night she was tossing and turning in bed and unable to sleep. She wasn’t surprised by this as the day’s events had been so traumatic. She got up and looked out of her window. The sky was now clear and there was a full moon. Everything was a ghostly black-and-white and the street was empty. She put her hands up to her face, yawned and shook her head. Beneath the shock of what had occurred, something else was bothering her. The nice DC had said that it all seemed straightforward, and so it appeared, but she couldn’t get the idea out of her head that something was not right. Something didn’t ring true but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Eventually she decided that there was only one thing to do. Early in the morning she would ring her dad.

One

This ae nighte, this ae nighte,

Every nighte and alle,

Fire, fleet and candle light,

And Christe receive thy saule.

From the Lyke Wake Dirge, an ancient Yorkshire dialect song which evokes the bleak landscape of the high North York Moors

Detective Chief Inspector Jim Oldroyd was walking to work at the HQ of the Harrogate Division of West Riding Police over the Harrogate Stray, which enclosed part of the town centre in a wide green loop. It was a bright morning and the colours around him were rich and vivid. He looked up. Against the blue sky, bright yellow and red leaves were clinging to the branches of trees or whirling down to the ground in the wind to lie in damp piles on the wet grass. He inhaled the cold air with gusto. It was very ‘bracing’, as they say in Yorkshire. This was characteristic of the air in Yorkshire generally but never more so than on an autumn morning like this. After pausing for a moment to take in the scene, he set off again, his shoes scrunching through the leaves on the path.

Suddenly he heard his phone ringing and the contented smile left his face. Damn! Could he not be left in peace for just a little while? Surely it wasn’t work? Couldn’t they wait another twenty minutes until he was at his desk? He took his phone out of his pocket and saw that the caller was his daughter, Louise. Calls from her were comparatively rare and unknown at this time in the morning.

‘Hi, love, how are you?’

He knew immediately that something was badly wrong when he heard her voice: quavering and close to tears. ‘Oh, Dad, something terrible’s happened. I need you to come over.’

He stopped on the path. ‘Where are you? What’s going on?’

‘I’m in Whitby and someone’s been killed. And they’ve got it all wrong.’ She started to cry.

‘Hey, okay, calm down, love,’ he said gently, ‘and just tell