Harry was hoping for more. ‘Right, well, thanks, Mr Coates,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a tremendous help.’
He hadn’t been of any real help at all, that Harry could see, but perhaps something would come out later, you never knew. Had that fox he heard been someone in the farmyard, perhaps? Possibly, but still, what did that actually tell them other than sod all?
‘That it, then?’ Pat asked. ‘I can go?’
‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘But if you can pop into the office in Hawes later on, that would be very much appreciated.’
‘I’ll have to see,’ Pat said.
‘By which I mean, I will expect you to come into the office today, Mr Coates.’
‘Right, well, if that’s how it’s going to be.’
‘It is.’
And with that, Pat Coates turned back towards his house and strode off, his gait not that dissimilar to that of a cowboy, Harry thought.
‘Learned a lot there, then,’ Matt said as they all stared, watching the farmer go back into his house.
A call cut the air and Harry, Jim and Matt all turned at the same time to see someone waving at them from beside the slurry pit. The pathologist and her two colleagues had been joined by other officers now as the body was now no longer in the pit and they were busy examining the rest of the site for possible evidence. It looked like a terrible job to be on with, Harry thought, as he walked over. ‘What is it?’
Rebecca Sowerby walked over to meet him, pulling her facemask down on the way.
‘This,’ she said, and held up an evidence bag.
‘Ah, bollocks,’ Harry said.
‘Exactly what I said,’ Sowerby agreed. ‘Looks the same as the one we found on the body yesterday. Kind of links the two deaths, doesn’t it?’
‘Links?’ Harry said. ‘Links! Hell, this pretty much handcuffs them together and throws them into the same bloody cell!’
Harry turned then and stormed back towards Matt and Jim.
‘Let me guess,’ Matt said.
‘No I won’t,’ replied Harry, then he added, ‘But yes, it’s another sodding feather. Another!’
‘Seriously?’ Jim said. ‘What does that mean, then?’
Harry knew exactly what it meant and already his gut was twisting up at the implications of what they could potentially be dealing with. ‘What it means, Jim,’ he said, his voice quiet, low and rumbling, the sound of it the approach of thunder, ‘is that whoever did this, to whoever that is down there, killed old John Capstick as well.’
Chapter Twenty
Back in Hawes, and sitting at a table in the main room the local police used at the Community Office, Harry was staring hard into an enormous mug of tea, which had just been handed to him by Matt. Jenny and Liz were on their way back from the domestic. Gordy, having done her bit with the family at the farm, had headed back down the dale, but had promised to be in touch later on, assuming, she said, ‘that all those wee squaddies at Catterick aren’t out on the piss’. On the table in front of him was an open laptop on which he had already gone through the files sent by the photographer and pathologist from the day before. He’d left a couple of terse messages on DSI Swift’s phone, enquiring about the files, but had as yet heard not a thing.
‘How big actually is this?’ Harry asked, his hands clasping the mug, his fingertips only just meeting around the other side of it.
‘Well, it’s a pint mug,’ Matt said, ‘so I’m guessing it holds a pint. I figured you needed one.’
‘A pint? Of tea? And where did you get it?’
‘Café over in Ingleton,’ Matt explained. ‘I’ve been going there for years, you see. Loads of cavers and walkers and whatnot use it. That’s one of café’s souvenirs. Well, what I mean is, it’s actually their only souvenir. I was over there the weekend before last. Meant to bring it in before, but I forgot.’
Harry picked up the mug and stared at it, trying to take in the scale of the thing. ‘It’s nearly as big as my head.’
‘Can’t beat a pint mug of tea and a bacon butty,’ Matt said. ‘So . . .’ He removed a paper bag from his jacket pocket and handed it to Harry, who took it from him and stared at the contents for a moment before removing the roll inside, which was generously filled with bacon. ‘Stopped in at Cockett’s on the way through,’ Matt said, then gave another bag to Jim. ‘After what we saw this morning, I figured we all needed a little pick-me-up. And there’s cake for later.’
Harry bit into the butty waiting for Matt to announce that he’d also bought cheese for the cake. He didn’t, so Harry was a little relieved, because he still hadn’t quite got used to that particular food combination, though he had no doubt there was some lurking in the fridge in the corner of the room. ‘Nice,’ he said, his voice muffled a little. ‘You not eating?’
‘Already eaten,’ Matt said, patting his stomach. ‘Pushed mine into my face on the way here. I think I inhaled it, to be honest.’
For the next couple of minutes, Harry and Jim quietly munched their way through the butties, and all the time Harry was thinking about what they were now in the middle of. One death, one murder, well that was something folk could handle, not in a way that meant it was any easier, because all investigations were different, but more in the way that it was communicated. The press would snap at it but lose interest pretty quickly unless it was a particularly horrific death or involved a celebrity. Things would quieten down, and then you would be able to just get on with the job in hand. But two murders, and within days of each other? Harry was pretty
