The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Monday May
20th

Wetheralls wine bar was quiet. The day was muggy,
overcast and the weather forecasters had predicted more heavy rain
for the rest of the week. Elizabeth collected her coffee
and sat at the far end of the room so
she could watch out for Patterson. Until he collected the
report from the forensic accountant, the Faraday case was on
hold and there was nothing more she could do.

Morven
was due in court tomorrow morning to answer the murder
charge to which he intended to plead not guilty. Calbrain
had paid a second visit to Park Road yesterday afternoon
to meet with Geoffrey Goddard, a consular official from the
Canadian Embassy and Morven's solicitor Teresa Lane. When Eldridge
first mentioned he'd seen them in the canteen, Elizabeth
had decided to stay away. Half an hour later she
changed her mind.

Calbrain had acknowledged her but hadn’t
introduced his companions. Elizabeth had felt she’d a legitimate
reason for her presence in the canteen because she was
hungry. She’d bought a sandwich and sat by the
window. Occasionally she’d glanced across at the trio. Teresa
Lane was talking on her on mobile while Calbrain and
Goddard sifted through paperwork. Elizabeth understood why they'd made
use of the station's canteen. Morven was close by
should they need to speak to him. Teresa Lane had
finished her call and opened up a laptop. The defence
team in action, plotting to defeat Yeats and the CPS.

This is how wealth can alter the course of justice,
she’d thought. Whether the Canadian was innocent or guilty
didn't matter, Elizabeth was prepared to bet Morven wouldn'
t end up in a British prison.

Patterson rushed through
the door looking flustered. He sat down and unusually he
was out of breath. Elizabeth still worried about him. 'You
sound like you're hyperventilating. Take a few deep breaths
and tell me what's wrong this time.'

'I'm
sure I've just seen Daly,' he gasped.

Elizabeth could
barely move. Her whole body felt rigid. 'Keep your voice
down,' she whispered. 'Tell me where.'

'Not far from the
Air Balloon roundabout.'

'What were you doing up there?'

'Our
forensic accountant rang me and asked if I'd meet
him at the Prince Albert pub on the A40. He
was on his way back from London en route to
Birmingham and wouldn't be back in Cheltenham for another
week. He wanted me to collect the report.'

'And you'
re saying Daly was in the pub?'

'I saw him
as he was leaving, with a woman and she wasn'
t Mrs Daly.'

'Did you recognise her?'

Patterson gulped in
more air. 'She was getting into a car, very elegant
but she was wearing a headscarf and dark glasses so
I couldn't tell.'

Elizabeth forced a laugh.' This all
sounds a bit cloak and dagger to me. Are you
absolutely sure it was Daly?'

'Would I be in this
state if I wasn't sure? Bloody hell Liz, you
can't mistake the man. At first, I thought I
was hallucinating because he's lost weight and was kitted
out in a fancy suit.'

'Perhaps the rumours were right
and he did run off with another woman. I remember
being suspicious when he joined a gym.'

Patterson sighed. 'I
find it hard to believe he'd do that to
Mrs Daly.'

Elizabeth paused, trying to think logically. 'Hang on
a minute, we're jumping to conclusions. Just because he'
s with this woman doesn't mean he's having
sex with her. Think about it. Yes, there was plenty
of gossip about an affair, but that idea seems to
have died away. These days it's impossible to keep
affairs a secret. Someone always knows and eventually tells somebody
else. And, more importantly where is Mrs Daly? No one'
s seen her either.'

'Well it was definitely him, either
with a new woman or a friend. Who knows?'

Elizabeth
hadn't disclosed her snooping to Patterson. With this sighting,
maybe she should. 'I've done a bit of checking.
The Daly's rented out their house and the new
tenants don't have a forwarding address because I checked.
When I went to see the letting agent he told
me any information about Mr and Mrs Daly was confidential
and not to come back unless I had a warrant.
My instinct tells me it's not Daly you saw.'

Patterson pulled a face. 'Yeah, because I had a serious
brain injury I'm gaga.'

Elizabeth looked into his eyes
and could see he was telling the truth. She badly
wanted to believe in his powers of observation but at
the same time didn't want to build her hopes
up. 'I'm sorry. Start from the point where you
went into the pub to meet Phil. Pretend you're
a witness to a crime, you know how difficult total
recollection is so take it slowly, step-by-step.'

Patterson'
s breathing had eased. 'Can I get a coffee first?'

'
You sit there and I'll fetch it.'

When Elizabeth
returned to the table Patterson was writing notes. She waited
until he'd finished. 'Is it any clearer in your
head?'

'Have you ever been to the Prince Albert?'

'No,
or if I have, I don't remember.'

'There are
two car parks at the Albert. The larger one is
at the back, the smaller one at the front. When
I arrived, I drove around the back and went into
the bar through the rear entrance. Daly definitely wasn't
in there, so he must've been in the restaurant.
Phil was waiting and had ordered a couple of mugs
of tea. We were together no more than fifteen minutes.
I went to the toilet, took a wrong turning and
ended up walking out of the front door. That's
when I saw him.'

'Did he see you?' Elizabeth asked.

'
Not a chance. The moment I recognised him I went
back in and looked through the window. I saw him
face on for at least ten seconds.'

'Did you get
the number plate?'

Patterson fished a scrap of paper out
of his pocket and handed it to her. 'DVLA says
it's a customised fake, normally used to evade detection
and prosecution.'

'Remind me how they can tell,' Elizabeth said.

'
We all know the letters and numbers on all plates
must be a set size and be the mandatory font
with the correct spaces between letters and numbers. Anything else
is illegal and always picked up by roadside cameras. Certain
customised plates are difficult to read because of background patterns
and if the font isn't legal it's even
more confusing.' He pointed to the piece of paper. 'That
one was in italics, so we won't get anywhere.'

'
What type of car?'

'I had to look it up.
It's a popular Russian saloon. Remember the old Ladas,
built like tanks but no style. Daly's was the
Lada Kalina and very nice too. It resembles any other
mid-priced stylish motor.'

'He's had a couple of
different cars in the last three years and they certainly
weren't Russian,' Elizabeth said. 'So it must belong to
the woman, or he borrowed it.'

'Whichever way you look
at it Liz, he doesn't want to be recognised.
With the weight loss, not many people will. The question
is, why?'

'I haven't got a clue,' Elizabeth said
rubbing her brow. 'The more I think about it, the
worse it gets. Much as I don't want to
accept the idea, he must be having an affair. Well,
he can't lie low forever. When I catch up
with him...'

Patterson interrupted, 'I think we should just forget about him. It's his life and he is getting on a bit. I reckon he's decided to rebel before he snuffs it.'

Elizabeth didn't agree with Patterson but she kept quiet. Now wasn't the right time to argue with him. She checked her watch and realised that if she wanted to fit everything in today they'd have to make a move.

'You're right. Let's not talk about Daly. First stop is at Sotheby's in Imperial Square.'

'Have you found a Rembrandt in your attic?'

Elizabeth removed an A4 envelope from her shopping bag. She handed it to Patterson. 'I printed these images off last night; they're all masks originating from North Western British Columbia. Some of them are old and very valuable and reside in museums. The rest are a cross-section of what is available to buy on the open market. Jackie Kilmartin is convinced Morven killed Wilson for the mask but Morven tells us the mask wasn't worth much. Either Morven is lying, in which case where is the damn thing? It wasn't in his hotel room or with his personal effects. The only other possibility is after he killed Wilson he hid it somewhere and unless he confesses, we can forget finding it. Without another motive for Wilson's murder, we're stuck with the mask. We can't eliminate it until it's found and as we've no idea what it looks like I'm hoping Sotheby's might point us in the right direction. We have an appointment with a Natasha Samuel, expert in tribal masks from all over the world.'

'I presume this Natasha will keep quiet about our enquiries.'

Elizabeth yawned. 'These Sotheby types are used to keeping secrets. Some of their clients are billionaires. After that, Les Harper is next on my list. But I've got to be careful as he drinks with some of the top brass.'

'You're going to interview Jade Harper's dad?' Patterson asked looking concerned.

'No you are.' Elizabeth removed a file from a bright red shopping bag. 'Witness statement from the The Crow's Nest pub where Jade Harper was seen drinking with Wilson on several occasions. This will be your main topic of conversation with her father.'

'Thanks a lot,' Patterson said.

'That girl has a reputation and so has her boyfriend Duncan Mortimer. He's on record for a couple of burglary offences. The evening Wilson died, Jade's parents provided alibis for both of them, saying they didn't go clubbing until late. Unfortunately, we can't prove or disprove it yet. Okay, so Morven is our prime suspect. He's charged with Wilson's murder and is about to appear in court. I'm not saying he's innocent or guilty but what I am saying is this investigation is flawed. I need to start at the beginning and take my time. Everyone on the team is aware of the gaping holes. Certain people we overlooked need scrutinising again to eliminate them. If in the end we're only left with Morven, then I'll concede.'

Patterson stood up. 'Harper senior will be straight on to the Chief Constable shouting harassment.'

'I don't care, think of the latest scandals. Newspapers paying cops for information, bribery and corruption is endemic. If all this results in people getting away with murder then I'm prepared to put my job on the line, and so should you. We can't eradicate this behaviour but what we must never do is condone it.'

'Who else is on the list after Harper?'

'Duncan Mortimer and Rory Cook.'

'Isn't Cook a Grasmere student?'

'I did some digging into Cook. I talked to a couple of people who knew him well. I spoke to them separately and they both said he suffers violent episodes caused by too many drugs and has a monumental chip on his shoulder. He's managed to stay under the radar which tells me he's crafty, cunning and worthy of our interest.'

Patterson sounded weary. 'Is that it for today?'

'Depends,' Elizabeth said.' I haven't done any overtime for a while. Now we're back together we can start catching up.'

'On the subject of Yeats, I still haven't come up with anything concrete.'

'Don't worry Tony. Listen to the words of popular sayings. Patience is a virtue and everything comes to those who wait. I'm sure there are plenty of others, but I've forgotten them.'

'Do you want to come back for a drink later?’ Elizabeth asked.

Patterson shook his head. 'No thanks, not after that crushing hangover the other day.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It was only a few minutes’ walk from Wetheralls to Imperial Square. Elizabeth had parked opposite the
Town
Hall and hadn't any change for a ticket. As
always when she ran out of change, she stuck a
police notice on the dashboard, which didn't always impress
the traffic wardens. Luckily, the Saab's windscreen wasn't
harbouring a plastic envelope containing a demand for seventy pounds
.

Elizabeth and Patterson cut through Imperial Gardens. Built at
the beginning of the twentieth century the gardens provided a
venue for concerts and other cultural and social events.
Their
original use was as the pleasure grounds for the Montpellier
Spa and the current layout dated back to after the
Second World War
.
Elizabeth loved the place especially during the
summer months when it became a venue for many outdoor
events and festivals. Her personal favourites were the Literature and
Jazz Festivals.

They found a bench close to the tennis courts. The skateboard park was busy and Elizabeth wondered if some of the teenage boys had bunked off school. Droves of skateboarders headed there at weekends and she remembered standing watching them one summer evening after having dinner with Calbrain. She brushed away the memory as quickly as it came.

Sotheby's did business from a converted four-storey magnificent grade two listed town house. Imperial Square had many private residents as well as businesses and Elizabeth knew you needed at least one and a half million pounds to live there. They opened the ornate door and stepped into an elegant hallway. A receptionist looked up and asked whom they were here to see.

'Natasha Samuel,' Elizabeth stated.

A
minute later they were ushered towards a wide staircase leading
to the first floor. Ms Samuel greeted them while talking
on her mobile phone. When she ended the call, she
held out her hand. 'I don't deal with the
police very often.'

She was a tall willowy redhead with
the appropriate green eyes. She watched as Patterson stared at
her and Elizabeth knew they'd both noticed the uncanny
resemblance to the murdered model Lily Jerome.

She handed Natasha
the printouts. 'These images are based on what the students
at Grasmere created during their project. The mask we're
keen to identify originates from North Western British Columbia. Maybe
the Nass River Valley area, but we're not sure.
It could be old and very valuable, or a cheap
imitation.'

'Please sit down,' Natasha said and picked up a
pair of glasses. She studied the print outs slowly until
one held her interest. She didn't speak and Elizabeth
sat back content to be patient. A few minutes later,
the expert laid down the printouts and removed her glasses. '
I must say I'm intrigued. You must think that'
s rather ghoulish.'

Patterson smiled and said, 'I imagine you
deal with plenty of works of art, works that have
a dubious history.'

'You'd be surprised how many. All
antiquities require a good provenance so we tend to ignore
lengthy complex stories from owners and find out for ourselves.
Sometimes we have to because sellers often lie about the
object's history. For instance telling us it's been
in the family for generations when it clearly hasn't.
Fraud is rife these days and unfortunately, we have to
deal with it. In this case, if the mask is
very old it might be difficult to trace its life
story.' She flicked through the images again. 'What makes you
certain the mask belonged to the Nisga'a people?'

Elizabeth
explained about the Grasmere student who had holidayed in the
Nass Valley. How she'd discovered a Nisga'a Wolf
Chief was visiting the area and why the art department
head had invited him to the school. She was careful
with her disclosure. Natasha Samuel's job required discretion but
Elizabeth wasn't taking any chances.

Natasha pointed to one. '
The mask could also be Tsimshian, so that gives me
a bit more to go on,' Natasha said. 'Let me
give you a little historical background. The early explorers came
to the Pacific North West mainly for fur. For instance,
the black pelt from the sea otter fetched a high
price. George Vancouver, a captain in the British Army was
sponsored to survey the area beginning in seventeen ninety-two.
His orders were to encourage trade with the indigenous people
and collect artefacts to take back for European museums. There
are still many records of transactions instigated by the early
explorers. Unfortunately, a proportion of these treasures never made it
back to Europe and no one really knows where they
ended up. Piracy could account for plundered treasures finding their
way into American or European families who began huge collections.
Since the mid twentieth century, many pieces have found their
way back to their rightful owners. But those that don'
t make it home sell for enormous sums.'

Elizabeth didn'
t have time for an extensive history lesson even though
she found it interesting. What she needed was an image
they could work on. 'Let's say the mask is
a couple of hundred years old. I assume it would
be very valuable.'

'Yes it would,' Natasha stated. 'And it'
s likely its people would want it back. I'm
busy for the rest of the day but I'll
have time tomorrow. I need to consult some reference books
for accurate images.'

Elizabeth was grateful for her help. 'You'
re also a historian I believe.'

'I did a Masters
on the Plantagenet dynasty, from 1154 to 1485.'

'History wasn'
t my best subject at school, so I don't
know much about that period.'

Natasha smiled. 'There's been
quite a resurgence of interest since those remains buried underneath
a car park in Leicester were confirmed to be that
of King Richard III, the last Plantagenet king.'

'I did
follow the story and thought how lucky we are to
live in this era. Forensic science has advanced even in
the last five years, but unfortunately, it doesn't always
solve a crime. Detectives rely on experts, which leads me
to my next question. From a historical point of view,
do many people kill to acquire a piece of art?'

'
Plenty have throughout history, so it's possible, but until
I have some idea of why, I'm as stumped
as you are,' Natasha answered.

Elizabeth felt more positive. She
was beginning to believe the mask had to be the
real motive. 'Ring me if you come up with anything.'

'
Natasha showed her out. 'Thanks to the Antiques Road Show,
the public think studying antiquities is a glamorous job. It'
s actually very much like your occupation. You have to
be a damned clever detective.'