The Whitby Murders (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery) J. Ellis (distant reading TXT) 📖

Ship a group of frightened young people emerged tentatively from underneath a wooden table where they’d been hiding ever since the first shot had been fired. One of them was Lesley Granger.

‘Shit! What the hell was that lunatic doing?’ said a young man, looking at the smashed plant pot, which was quite near to them. One girl was crying.

‘It’s okay, Mandy, they’ve gone,’ said Lesley.

Mandy crawled out, her costume smeared with dirt and her make-up running. ‘They ran off down there!’ She pointed to the ginnel. ‘They could come back.’

‘I doubt it,’ replied Lesley. ‘Look, we have to get out of here quick. If the police stop me, I’m going to be in big trouble with my mum. Come on. I’m going to call her, and we need to dodge the police.’

The little group walked gingerly down the street, keeping to the side and hiding in doorways.

Lesley took out her mobile and called her mum.

‘What’s going on? Do you know what time it is?’ Granger was not pleased and had clearly been waiting for this call.

‘We were on our way back, Mum, but something’s happened.’ She described the incident at the Old Ship while Granger’s alarm grew.

‘Okay. I’m on my way now. Stay away from the police officers.’

‘We are.’

‘I’ll never live it down if you get involved with the police.’

‘Mum, we haven’t done anything; we were just at the pub and—’

‘That’s enough, isn’t it? You’re not eighteen, Lesley. It’s against the law for you to drink in a pub.’

‘We were outside.’

‘So how did you get the drinks? Someone went in to get them. Here I am, a detective inspector at the local police station and my daughter risks getting arrested for underage drinking. How is that going to look?’ Lesley was silent. ‘Get across the harbour bridge and wait at the other side.’ Granger brought the conversation to an abrupt end.

As she drove down to the old town, she reflected on the trials of parenthood and concluded that things could be much worse. She picked up the little group of downcast goths, looking rather forlorn and whisked them away from any compromising circumstances.

As yet she didn’t know the real significance of the incident at the Old Ship.

Early next morning a fisherman returning from the open sea, spotted something floating near the harbour wall. He pulled his boat up close and saw a human head face down in the water and a black cloak swirling around in the current.

Police sirens were heard again in Church Street and a small crowd gathered to see the body pulled out of the water. At this year’s Whitby Goth Weekend, death was real and not just a fantasy.

DC Hampton had to knock on the door of the Airbnb for some time before anyone answered. Eventually a sleepy-looking Maggie opened the door.

‘Oh God, what’s going on? It’s only eight o’clock. It’s Sunday.’

‘I need to come in,’ said Hampton with a sombre expression on his face. ‘Can you call everyone together? I have some important news.’

‘What?’ cried Maggie. ‘What has he done? Is he dead?’

‘Just call the others please. It will be better if I tell you all together.’

Maggie rushed around the house rousing everyone. She had to bang loudly on the door of Ben’s room and also the room that had been Dom and Andrea’s and where Jack was now sleeping, before she got a response from both men. They’d been out late the previous night. Soon the whole group of surviving friends were assembled in the lounge, except Louise, who was still in Leeds. DC Hampton went straight to the point.

‘This morning we recovered a dead person from the water down in the harbour. We believe this to be the body of Dominic Holgate.’

‘Oh no!’ Maggie burst into tears. Mark held her, and she put her head on his shoulder.

‘Bloody hell!’ Ben groaned. ‘How can you be sure?’

‘We can’t until the body is identified, which we will need one of you to do.’

They glanced at one another. ‘I’ll do it,’ said Ben. ‘I was one of the last to see him alive.’ He shook his head, put his hand up to his forehead and looked away. He started to weep. Jack went over to console him.

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of this news,’ continued Hampton. ‘The cause of death was most probably a gunshot wound to the head. An unidentified person who resembled Mr Holgate was seen behaving very strangely last night outside a pub on Church Street. Two shots were fired; then the figure ran towards the harbour. Another gun shot was heard so it seems likely that the wound was self-inflicted. Given that a gun holster was found in Mr Holgate’s possessions, it seems likely that he was using a gun he brought with him to Whitby.’

There was silence as they tried to absorb the horror of it.

Hampton turned to Ben. ‘If you could come with me then. It won’t take long. It’s just a short drive to the hospital.’ He turned back to the others. ‘Again, I’m really sorry for your loss. I don’t suppose it’s come as too much of a surprise after that last text. You did the right thing to report it to us.’

‘Is this the end of it, then?’ asked Jack.

‘It appears that way. I know it’s a great shock to you all, but maybe you can now start to move on. We’ll let you know when it’s okay to leave,’ replied Hampton, and he and Ben left the house.

The remaining three were left in stunned silence. They all sat down heavily on the sofas and Mark put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders.

‘It’s all right him saying that,’ she said in a weak voice as if she could hardly get the words out. ‘How can you ever recover properly from something like this? Two of your friends gone and . . .’ She started to cry again. Mark hugged her closer.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Jack, shaking his head. ‘I never thought he’d kill himself.’

Maggie gave