The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (15 page)

They sank onto the bunk. '
Those items I need. Have you got a pen and
paper?' Morven asked.

Calbrain twisted his back as he took
a notebook and pen from his pocket. He winced as
he handed them over. 'Jot down what you want.'

'You'
re in pain, ' Morven said.

'Bad back. I'm feeling
old.'

'I sense you have emotional problems as well,' Morven
said as he wrote.

'I'm about to be married,'
Calbrain winced again and stood up.

Morven handed the list
back. 'Thanks, I appreciate what you're doing. Tell John
I'll be in touch when I can.'

'I better
make tracks.' He offered Morven his card. 'My home and
cell phone numbers, in case you need to reach me
urgently.'

'I hope your back improves.' He stared at Calbrain
then closed his eyes. 'There are two women in your
life. One of them will make you very unhappy.'

Calbrain
didn't fall for psychic predictions. Morven was certainly a
strange man; the short time he'd spent with him
had certainly had a weird effect. As he left the
building he realised his back pain had suddenly eased. His
phone beeped and he stopped in the car park to
read a text. It was from a van driver who
collected biological waste from the pathology labs in the area.
He knew many of the staff and Calbrain occasionally paid
him for any information he came across. The text referred
to overheard conversations by various lab technicians. Calbrain didn't
care which method his informer used, as long as he
got the goods.

According to the text, certain staff with
firsthand knowledge of the Wilson case had voiced opinions during
a lunch break. It seemed they had questioned certain results.

Thank God, he thought. He was glad he didn't
have to prove whether Morven was innocent or guilty, just
make sure the evidence against him was disputable. Having spent
the last half hour with him, he found it difficult
to believe he'd killed a perfect stranger in a
foreign country. Why would he do that? Yet Yeats couldn'
t wait to lock Morven up. Did Yeats need to
impress someone? No, that idea made no sense.

As Calbrain
hurried away, he decided to utilise the software the insurance
company had provided. Car accident fraud was big business and
he'd recently uncovered a gang who made it their
speciality, thanks to huge advances in compressing information and making
it more accurate. Now he'd put it to a
different test and see what surfaced.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Cheltenham
town centre was always busy and today was no exception.
Elizabeth wandered aimlessly in and out of shops oblivious to
her suraroundings. More than an hour and a half had
passed, she hoped by now Calbrain had left Park Road.

Patterson had gone to meet Philip Younger, the forensic accountant
and Eldridge, for some reason was avoiding her.

Whenever she
thought about her work colleagues, there was no doubt Yeats
had a lot to answer for. He'd completely distorted
Park Road's dynamic with his military type rules and
regulations. He'd stamped on the slightest dissent and banned
any light-hearted banter. The mere mention of his name
reduced everyone to a resentful silence. Often Elizabeth felt she
was living in a battlefield. Then to add to her
misery, another bulletin had arrived about the new HQ building,
explaining the current delay. The architects were currently suing the
building company for costly mistakes. It all began over a
year ago when a major problem with the roof design
had caused the first hold up. Now a wall needed
rebuilding. Elizabeth wondered why the construction of the new HQ
had ended up a complete farce. Granted it was much
bigger, but with all the money thrown at it, she
still couldn't understand why it was no further forward.
No one probably cared much about the actual building, just
the monetary reward and their reputations. She looked up at
the sky, another lovely day but one more winter in
Park Road might prove too much for CID, especially if
Yeats was still in charge.

She retreated into her fantasy
world. This time she was evacuating Park Road before blowing
it up.

Tom, the desk sergeant, waved as she walked
through reception on her way to the incident room. Katie
Gardiner looked over and smiled. She noticed one or two
new faces and wondered where Yeats had found them. He
didn't acknowledge her presence and carried on lecturing everyone
about a glitch in one of the witness statements and
insisting whoever was responsible to come to his office afterwards.
No doubt for a rollicking, Elizabeth thought. I'm supposed
to be part of this investigation she reminded herself, so
when can I expect a little more responsibility. Did he
intend continuing his autonomy until once again she ended up
totally surplus to requirements.

She found a chair and compared
the present situation to when Daly was in charge. Back
then, everyone knew what was going on.

Yeats had worked
on plenty of terrorist investigations; at least Patterson had unearthed
that snippet. Finding out more damning information about him was
proving impossible. It explained why he operated differently, but at
the same time, his methods shouldn't compromise the case.
She closed her eyes and listened to his orders. Then
he abruptly dismissed everyone, waited until the room emptied and
walked towards her. 'You're timekeeping is shit,' he said.

'
I told you why. Calbrain was here and I didn'
t want to see him. What's all this about
a new witness?'

'A second person insists he saw Morven
hanging around outside the school. Meaning he lied about going
back to the hotel straight after lunch.'

'Rubbish, the hotel
receptionist swore she saw him come in.'

'Take those blinkers
off your eyes Jewell. Some women go for types like
Morven. We only have her word for it, strange no
one else at the hotel did.'

Patterson turned up just
as Elizabeth was about to disagree. She was glad to
see him.

'Excuse me Sir. I need to discuss the
Faraday case with Patterson. The forensic accountant is preparing a
report for the CPS.'

'Any ideas when we can expect
a court date,' Yeats asked.

'When we can prove tax
evasion, unless you decide they're innocent.'

Yeats ignored her
blatant rudeness and smiled as he spoke. 'Your old friend
Calbrain is off to the Canadian Embassy. Morven has a
rich benefactor who is keen to bankroll his defence.'

Elizabeth
wondered why Calbrain hadn't mentioned this. 'When is he
due in court?'

'The consular help won't kick in
until tomorrow, so I'm not sure. What I have
learned is Morven has massive support in Canada.'

Patterson spoke. '
I noticed a short article in the Telegraph Sir; the
news is already starting to circulate. I suggest we organise
more uniforms for Morven's court appearance.'

Elizabeth saw that
Yeats wasn't happy with the possible developments. She made
sure her tone sounded confident. 'Morven will definitely get bail,
there's no other option.'

'Not necessarily,' Yeats stated with
a grim look.

Patterson added his bit. 'Why worry. He
can't do a runner without his passport.'

'Don't
underestimate any murder suspect determined to evade justice,' Yeats said. '
Believe me I've seen every trick in the book.
So instead of gloating and praying this case will finish
my career, I suggest you both get out there and
consolidate the evidence.’

'You mean only in one direction, no
deviation from the guilty path?' Elizabeth said.

'That's exactly
what I mean,' Yeats replied.

Elizabeth turned to Patterson and
grinned. Winning a small victory had lifted her spirits and
the Patterson /Jewell partnership was back in business.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Following day May 17th

If a lorry hadn't
broken down right under his bedroom window Calbrain probably wouldn'
t have woken up. He'd arrived back home just
before two am and didn't get to sleep immediately.
It was not yet eight-thirty so he could take
his time. Yesterday, in London, everything he'd planned took
longer than expected. The last straw was missing the train
and having to find a taxi driver willing to drive
to Cheltenham. Chiswick High Street had produced an affable cabbie
up for the job.

The crashing and banging drew him
to the window where he saw a delivery van bumped
onto the curb. The bonnet was open and the driver
was lugging a large metal can across the pavement. Calbrain
threw on the same clothes he'd worn yesterday and
went downstairs to the kitchen. While he boiled the kettle,
he went over the previous day's events in London.
At least he had achieved everything he'd set out
to do. He'd phone John before dropping by Park
Road, by then it would be nearly time to pick
up the consular official at Cheltenham station. The solicitor, Teresa
Lane from the Chiswick firm, was driving up and arriving
early afternoon. His visit to the embassy had seemed laborious
and tiring but the staff had been very hospitable and
in great diplomatic tradition had fallen over themselves to help.

Teresa Lane, the senior partner, was optimistic about Morven's
chances of acquittal. She worked with a high profile QC
and was confident she could secure him for the defence.
Calbrain then called at the city bank, where John had
deposited the cash, and spent an hour filling in forms.

He returned to Chiswick weary and hungry and Teresa Lane
suggested they had dinner together to discuss the case. She
chose a small restaurant on Chiswick High Street and they
spent the best part of three hours eating, drinking and
talking. Teresa was an attractive woman in her mid forties
and Calbrain had enjoyed her company. She was easy to
be with, and able to exude professionalism without boring him.

He picked up his coffee and cut through his office
to check on the lorry. By some miracle, the middle-
aged driver had managed to start the engine just as
the traffic had built up behind him. From the earlier
efforts and the ominous noises, Calbrain hadn't held out
much hope.

'You woke me up,' he shouted over to
the driver.

'Sorry mate. I've been driving all night
and didn't realise the bloody petrol gauge was on
the blink. I ran out.'

'I'm amazed, from the
racket I thought the engine had blown. Fancy a coffee,
I've just made some?'

'Thanks for the offer mate
but I only live in Wolverhampton. I just want to
get home and have a kip.'

Calbrain felt sorry for
him. 'Take it easy then. Next time you feel like
breaking down, don't do it outside my place.'

The
driver laughed as he steered the lorry away from the
kerb.

Calbrain went back inside, refilled his coffee and was
ready to ring Vancouver. John had emailed that he was
on the mend and eager to get back to work.
His health scare had been nothing more complicated than a
flu virus.

Calbrain started by giving him an update on
his London visit, emphasising he was satisfied they'd hired
a decent firm.

'I'm thinking about coming over,' McAllister
said. 'I'm feeling a lot better.'

Calbrain wondered why.
John McAllister was a clever man in his field but
like many academics wasn't particularly practical.

'Not sure that'
s a good idea John. Why don't you stay
put and see how you feel in another week. I
can handle everything at this end and believe me they
can't hold him for much longer.'

'It's my
fault Morven's in this shit. If I hadn't
accepted the invitation to Oxford none of this would have
happened.'

'Don't blame yourself,' Calbrain answered. 'How could either
of you have predicted this?'

'Jacob's a loyal friend.
I feel responsible.'

Calbrain wondered about their relationship. Living in
the UK for all these years he'd lost touch
with many people but John had religiously phoned two or
three times a year.

John had never married, fuelling rumours
within the academic circle that he was gay. He knew
otherwise but John had done nothing to quell the speculation.
John had found it amusing and allowed the idea to
flourish, hoping it added to his eccentricity. Calbrain guessed their
relationship had a deeper and more meaningful angle, kindred spirits
in the quest to uphold First Nation culture. John dedicated
to passing on his knowledge to the next generation, Morven
determined to preserve his peoples' heritage.

'Let's see how
things go in another week,' he repeated.

'I can't
help thinking the worst case scenario. Jacob goes to trial
and is convicted.'

Calbrain was surprised at John's negativity. '
Listen to me. Don't believe everything you read in
newspapers. Since I came over here to live, I've
met a broad cross section of police officers. I can
only remember a handful I didn't like and respect.
DCI Yeats is in my opinion a rogue cop but
I've no evidence to prove it. Have any Vancouver
papers covered the story yet?'

'A very short piece in
the Herald but I guess after Jacob's court appearance
we'll see a glut of them.'

John sounded tired
and Calbrain wanted to wind down the conversation. 'I'll
ring as soon as the hearing is over. There's
no reason to oppose bail, he's handed over his
passport.'

'If you need more money,' McAllister said, ' there's
plenty.'

'There's more than enough already John.'

'Don't
forget to deduct your expenses.'

Calbrain laughed. 'I'm a
well-paid freelance PI John, not Philip Marlowe without a
dime to my name. If it makes you feel better
I'll make sure I eat in Cheltenham's best
joints.'

Calbrain heard the older man sigh. 'Whether Jacob gets
bail or not I'm booking a ticket. Expect to
see me soon.'

'Okay, as long as you realise how
serious this situation is. They have evidence against him, probably
just enough to take it to a trial and that
won't happen for several months. If Jacob's refused
bail, he's on remand until then. The last thing
you need is more stress. I have to go but
I'll ring you tomorrow,' Calbrain said and rang off.

On his way upstairs to change, he wondered why John
was so determined to come over. The man was still
not well and risked having a setback. Calbrain checked his
appearance in the mirror. Another new suit, this time dark
grey, teamed with a shirt and tie Francisca had bought
him while they were in Spain.

He heard the front
door to his office open and Hannah shout, 'It's
me.'

Hannah was already working on the computer as he
prepared to leave. Francisca, he'd forgotten to ring her. '
Do me a favour,' he asked Hannah.

She looked up
and pulled a severe face, 'Not again.'

'Tell her I'
ll ring later.'

Hannah got up and peered through the
blind. Calbrain was standing by the bus stop with his
phone clamped to his ear.