The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Elizabeth typed up
Kilmartin's statement, asked her to sign it and decided
to deliver it to Yeats personally. Any qualms over Morven
's possible guilt were beginning to fade. Elizabeth had always
tried to maintain an impartial viewpoint, a person was innocent
until proved guilty but the circumstantial evidence was stacking up
against the Canadian. Yeats was walking down the corridor looking
smug.

'I think you should read this immediately,' she told
him.

'Bring it in,' he said and marched ahead of
her into his office. She wondered if he had any
more post mortem or forensic details to share. Unless they
found the mask and confirmed it was hugely valuable they
couldn't use it as a motive for murder.

Elizabeth
had thought through the possibilities. Wilson had intimated his life
was about to change, which in her mind nearly always
had something to do with money. If so, Wilson probably
couldn't believe his luck when he heard about Morven
coming. Here was a chance to ask an expert's
advice on its provenance and value. What didn't make
sense was why Wilson hadn't already let other experts
see it. Cheltenham had a branch of Sotheby's, although
all auctions were still held in London.

Yeats looked up
and smiled. 'Sit down Liz, is it okay to call
you Liz, or do you prefer Elizabeth?'

The smile and
the words shocked her, she'd seen halfhearted ones on
a few occasions but this was genuine. The man was
a chameleon. 'Everyone else calls me Liz so I don
't see why not. Does that mean I can drop
the Sir, and use Liam?'

She expected his smile to
fade but it didn't. 'Of course you can.' He
held out his hand. 'Let's have a look at
this statement.'

She sat quietly while he read, suspicious of
this sudden change towards her.

Yeats placed the document on
his desk. 'No one found a mask matching that description
. The only masks there belonged to the students, part of
their Native American project.'

'Do you believe the rest of
it?'

'I always keep an open mind regarding witness statements
. We all know how time distorts reality. Most of it
makes sense, except for the missing mask.'

Elizabeth pushed her
alternative theory. 'Kilmartin also had a strong motive. Wilson obviously
hated her for beating him to the job and everyone
knew he did. They argued a lot and you said
it yourself, rows can escalate rapidly into violence.'

'No trace
evidence to link her to the scene, as yet,' Yeats
stated.

'Considering she worked in the damn place, I find
that hard to believe.'

'Liz, think about what you're
saying. Dr Oakley is an excellent pathologist. I wouldn't
accuse a scientist of her calibre of shoddy work practices
. That's a conspiracy theory too far. From Grayson's
records, I doubt he's as thorough. I've heard
him described as slap-dash.'

'Who said that?'

'You know
I can't reveal sources, it's confidential.'

He'd
spouted the usual crap to cover himself. Elizabeth realised she
was wasting her time. His overtures at friendship weren't
genuine. Yeats got his kicks from mind games and she
'd let down her guard. It wouldn't happen again
. 'I've no issues with Dr Oakley. As for Grayson
being incompetent, if I was you I wouldn't repeat
that statement.'

Again, he ignored her and changed the subject
. 'I'm not happy with the statements from the two
cleaners. They were both upset at the time and weren
't thinking straight. Go and talk to them. The older
woman was very reticent. Considering she has worked at Grasmere
for a long time and probably watches what goes on
, I got the impression she was keepings things back. Where
's Patterson?'

Elizabeth stood up. 'He's still interviewing. You
told me to recruit, so I did. How conclusive are
the forensics?' she asked feeling suddenly defeated.

'Morven has to
account for the results. His fingerprints are on the murder
weapon and Wilson's DNA is a perfect match to
bloodstains found on his t-shirt. The lab used the
latest techniques for lifting DNA from fabrics.'

She felt none
of her usual euphoria at apprehending a killer, just more
doubts about Yeats's integrity. Despite his friendly words, she
knew he still didn't trust her. In one way
, that was a victory for her. She'd research Morven
when she got home. Having personal information on him as
an individual rather than as a suspect was important.

Bloody
Calbrain, she thought. If he hadn't got engaged to
the Spanish lawyer I'd be on the phone right
now. 'Any more in the local papers?' she asked Yeats
.

Elizabeth wasn't a great newspaper reader. If she spotted
one or a magazine, lying around she'd pick it
up and glance through it, but very rarely bought either
.

'Only what I authorised. It won't take long for
them to come up with a name then the nationals
will run with it. Morven's known to certain civil
rights groups in the UK campaigning for Native Americans. Cheltenham
, to my knowledge has no active groups.’

Elizabeth's opinion
was that the police often overlooked gathering intelligence on small
political groups unless they took to the streets. She almost
mentioned Stroud, a town where allegiances to high profile causes
were widespread, especially environmental issues. He'd find out soon
enough once the story spread to the national media.

'Why
rule out other people? Anyone of the staff or students
could have killed Wilson.'

Yeats sneered. 'Seven hundred pupils aged
from eleven to eighteen plus the staff. The statistics for
a pupil killing a teacher are extremely low. We work
with facts and those facts tell us Morven had motive
, means and opportunity. All we have to do now is
prove it.'

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tuesday May 14th.

The shabby indistinguishable
streets caused Patterson to curse Elizabeth. 'What's this sudden
aversion to the sat nav all about?'

'I hate using
it, that's why I gave you a piece of
paper with the address on. Then you send me in
the wrong direction.'

'Come on, we've driven around this
maze for ten minutes with no luck. You must have
made a mistake. Libby Hall lives on the Tewksbury Road
, let's go there.'

'No. I want to talk to
Janet Baker first. Libby found Wilson and Yeats is convinced
the older woman didn't tell everything. Imagine what he
'll do if I don't follow instructions.'

Patterson spotted
a cul-de-sac, tucked away behind mature beech trees
. 'This looks as if it could be the place. Did
you ring ahead?' he asked.

'No, we’re using the
surprise visit tactic. Morven might be the prime suspect but
Yeats wants more. He's the type who would plant
evidence to get a conviction.'

Patterson sighed as she pulled
on the handbrake. 'Cops don't do things like that
in this country.'

'Don't be so bloody green Tony
.'

'Okay, I'm too trusting but it sounds like he
's got a good case. Why get all worked up
over this Canadian bloke. If I didn't know better
I'd say you fancy him.'

'I barely saw the
man. In fact I don't even think I got
a proper look at him, so quit making stupid remarks
.'

Patterson tried a different approach. 'As soon as I've
got some time I'll start on your project. We
need a juicy sex scandal, proof that Yeats uses prostitutes
.'

'We should be careful where we discuss Yeats in future
. I wouldn't put it past him to bug my
car and house.'

'When did your paranoia surface again? Why
don't you tell me what's wrong? I'm
a good listener.'

Elizabeth knew he was right so she
told him about Calbrain.

'Bloody hell, I wonder what prompted
him to get engaged so quickly?'

'I haven't a
clue. I was under a stupid illusion he still fancied
me.'

'Be honest. You didn't exactly encourage his attentions
.'

Elizabeth slumped back into her seat.' I know it's
my own fault, but as they say in all the
songs, it's too late now.'

'If it's any
consolation, I doubt he'll go through with it.'

'What
makes you think that?' Elizabeth asked.

'I reckon he's
done it to make you jealous.'

'You're wrong,' she
pulled up, got out of the car and walked off
.

Patterson sighed. Next time he dropped by Calbrain's place
to see Hannah he'd find out more. The keys
were still in the ignition. He locked the Saab and
checked the house numbers. Elizabeth was standing on a grassy
area in the middle of the square talking to a
small child. Patterson could never understand why parents allowed children
as young as two or three to go outside unsupervised
. He glanced at the gardens; they were fenced off and
large enough for youngsters to play in safely.

Elizabeth held
the little boy's hand and led him onto the
pavement. 'Wait there until I take this child back. He
says he lives in the next road.'

Patterson bent down
and tried a friendly smile.

The boy had closely cropped
hair and was wearing the latest designer tracksuit. He looked
nearer to three. 'Go away mister,' the child shouted at
him. 'Or dad bashes you up.'

Patterson stood up. God
help the kid's mother when she's confronted with
Liz, he thought as he watched her disappear around a
corner.

Ten minutes later Janet Baker invited them into her
kitchen and switched the kettle on immediately. As always, when
they visited people's homes tea was on offer. Even
police officers found it difficult to refuse a cuppa and
a selection of biscuits. At first glance, Patterson thought she
was hard faced and unfriendly. According to their records she
was sixty-five but appeared much older, the kind of
worn down weariness caused by a tough life with no
prospect of it ever changing. Although from the interior, he
could see she aspired to better things. The place was
immaculate, so whatever she'd earned, she'd spent wisely
. The furniture and fittings were chosen carefully. She had good
taste.

Her inflexible edge was probably more to do with
living on this estate, renowned for social problems. He guessed
she didn't like it here; hence, the inside was
a reflection of her ambitions. Even to himself he sounded
like a snob, hypocritical really, considering he too had lived
on a similar estate, except in a better area. His
parents had bought the house as soon as Maggie Thatcher
decided everyone needed to get on the property ladder.

Elizabeth
sat down and eased her way into the interview. She
hadn't mentioned the little boy, which meant she'd
had no major concerns. Patterson assumed a quiet word with
the mother about proper supervision would have been sufficient.

Janet
Baker was immediately defensive. 'I don't know what else
I can tell you. I thought I'd covered everything
last Friday. There's a rumour you've caught the
person responsible. Is it true?'

'We can't disclose details
about the investigation. I'd also advise you not to
believe stories in the papers. They often get their facts
completely wrong,' Elizabeth answered.

'I'm not stupid Inspector.'

'I
didn't suggest you were. Why don't you sit
down Mrs Baker? I'd like you to go through
your first statement again. Witnesses to horrendous events often forget
important details due to being traumatised.'

Janet pulled up a
chair, sat down and gazed out the kitchen window. Patterson
watched her lips move as if she was practising what
to say. This was a difficult stage in any interview
. Often people said more than they needed and at other
times too little. Which meant either they thought they were
good liars or genuinely didn't know anything helpful. It
wasn't always easy to spot which it might be
.

Elizabeth took a biscuit from the plate. 'Try and remember
.'

'I'm sure what I told you before was correct
except I'm still confused over the noises I heard
. Whether it was the murderer breaking in, or I imagined
it.'

'You didn't see anyone.'

'I don't suffer
from hallucinations, if that's what you're getting at
. I'm nervous such a lot these days and jump
at the slightest sound.'

'Are you poorly?' Elizabeth asked.

'Stress
, from family problems, and I'm tired. I want to
retire.'

Patterson continued, 'You're leaving Grasmere I believe.'

'I
've only got two more weeks.'

'Has the job stressed
you out? Has anyone at Grasmere caused you problems?'

'I
shouldn't say this but Libby has a hard time
with those lads. I've had to listen to all
the problems she's had with them for months now
. They're a couple of layabouts, they don't do
anything to help her and she never has any money
. They bleed her dry.'

'Is she married?' Patterson asked.

'The
husband buggered off with another woman, and never contacts his
kids. They need a strong man to take them on
but Libby isn't interested in finding anyone else. She
struggles financially.'

'Do you help her out?' Elizabeth asked.

'I
lend her money now and again. She's very proud
and would never ask.'

'Does Libby do a day job
?'

'She works in the pub down by the station four
days a week. That causes trouble, those lads get up
to no good while she's out slogging. When I
think how hard she works, all for them and they
treat her so badly. I wouldn't put up with
it. My daughter's a single mother and that doesn
't please me either.'

Elizabeth wondered about the mask but
Janet started describing Libby's screams, then seeing her covered
in blood. 'At first I wasn't sure if it
was the spilled paint, maybe she'd fallen over and
put out her hands. Everything's a blur now.'

'When
you entered Mr Wilson's office did it appear as
if someone had been searching for something?'

'At first I
thought it was a burglary. Money's kept on the
premises but I don't know where. There's plenty
of valuable equipment to steal, computers, special equipment for science
and sport. You're cops; you know these scumbags will
steal whatever is easy. Some of them aren't too
fussy what they take.'

Did you notice if any of
Mr Wilson's personal effects were missing?'

'I would have
noticed. I've seen the same things in the same
place for years and would definitely know if something was
out of place or missing.'

'That's great,' Elizabeth said
. 'That helps us a lot.'

'Are all the classrooms and
offices locked at night?' Patterson asked.

'Not always because people
forget. Grasmere's a big school and should have more
cleaning staff. There's only one morning cleaner and she
checks the toilets and locker rooms. Her shift starts at
six, but she's been away on holiday for about
ten days. So she wasn't a work on Friday
morning. Libby and me do the evenings. Contract companies come
in once a month over the weekend, but they're
not due for another two weeks. All those keys floating
about, anybody could sneak in and stay overnight without us
realising.'

'Janet,' Elizabeth's voice was serious. 'Did you suspect
Libby when you saw her running from the scene?'

Patterson
noticed Janet's shock at the question. Her face twisted
in anger as she moved towards the door. 'Libby wouldn
't harm anyone, ever. I've tried to help and
this is what I get in return, snide comments about
a good friend. I'd like you to leave now
.'

'It's normal procedure, 'Elizabeth explained. 'Libby discovered the body
. She was the last person to see the victim alive
apart from the killer. It's best we eliminate her
from any suspicion. Do you know if she's at
home?'

'I've no idea Inspector. You'll have to
go there and find out.'

Janet hurried towards the hall
ahead of them. In the sitting room, a corner display
cabinet caught Patterson's attention. He moved towards it just
as Janet turned her head. 'If you're so interested
in my ornaments I suggest you ask me about them
.'

Patterson shook his head. 'I was only paying attention because
my great aunt had a similar piece of furniture.'

Janet
let them out and slammed the door.

Elizabeth and Patterson
stood on the corner watching a group of small children
playing on the central grass. The same little boy was
amongst them. Patterson checked out the other houses. Most looked
respectable enough except for the gardens where rubbish had piled
up waiting for the council collection. The cul-de-sac
wasn't too rundown; certainly not as bad as the
far end where most of the troublemakers lived.