The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (25 page)

'The whole thing was a setup,' Elizabeth
stated.

Reynolds looked serious. 'Hear me out for a bit
longer. It was imperative to bring resolution to the victim
's families and to restore confidence to the wider Irish
community. Seconding police officers requires a vacant position. As you
know, many retired officers return to the force to investigate
cold cases. The jurisdiction for the UK came under Operation
Clover. Anita Fleming was persuaded to come out of retirement
to head up the team. Daly's involvement was twofold
, Anita requested Daly join the team because he had prior
terrorist experience when he worked for Avon and Somerset. That
gave us a vacant position for Yeats, one where we
could continue the surveillance.'

'I didn't know Daly had
dealt with any terrorism issues,' Patterson said.

'It was a
covert operation that resulted in arrests and prosecutions. Daly knew
his stuff.'

Elizabeth stared at Patterson trying to absorb the
information. Now she knew why Anita appeared edgy, she'd
stumbled uninvited into her house asking questions about Daly, ones
Anita could not answer.

'So Daly isn't ill?' she
asked.

'Far from it, he was honoured that Anita asked
him to help and has worked diligently with her to
bring this case to closure.'

'What happens to Yeats?' Patterson
asked.

'The Crown Prosecution is confident he'll go to
trial next year. It was a difficult and complex case
. Having said that, we have sufficient confirmation that Yeats knew
innocent people would die during the operations he'd directed
. Historic offences have to be prosecuted to bring closure to
the victim's families. That's the law.'

Elizabeth summoned
up the courage to ask the question and held her
breath. 'Is Daly coming back to Park Road?'

Reynolds looked
straight at her, a slight twinkle in his eye. 'I
think that's a question you will have to ask
him.'

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Wednesday May 29th

A restless night
was responsible for Elizabeth oversleeping. If the phone hadn't
rung, she might have remained in her comatose state. Still
lying down, she held the phone to her ear and
listened carefully to what Patterson was saying. After a three
hour delay at Vancouver airport, the two visiting Canadian officers
had finally arrived at Heathrow. Eldridge had picked them up
approximately an hour and a half ago.

Elizabeth yawned and
willed herself out of the fog. 'I bet like me
, he didn't appreciate an early start.'

'I sent Katie
Gardiner with him.'

'A sensible choice,' she replied, struggling to
sit up.

'Hang on, she's just texted me...'

'Where
are they now?' Elizabeth asked.

'Just come off the M4
. You'd better get a move on.'

'Please don't
state the obvious when I'm still in my nightwear
,' she said and hung up.

Elizabeth searched her cupboards looking
for a suitable outfit. Clothes piled up on the bed
until she checked the time. In desperation she discarded the
corporate suits in favour of her old comfortable jeans, a
t-shirt and a cardigan in case the temperature dipped
. She slipped on comfortable flat pumps and dragged a brush
through her hair. After glancing in the mirror indecision struck
again. Did she look smart enough, was her choice too
casual. Other than the fact that two RCMP officers from
the City of Terrace in British Columbia were now en
route for Cheltenham she'd received no other information. What
did these two officers hope to achieve? Elizabeth couldn't
decide, only that anything Canadian was rapidly turning into a
thorn in her side.

Getting to sleep after the Reynolds
disclosures hadn't been easy. To tire her eyes she
'd read through a copy of Morven's lecture to
the A-level pupils. He'd prepared well for his
school tour, which proved he was conscientious. Why would a
man of his status suddenly turn into a murderer? If
he had, then it could only have occurred through some
kind of provocation. She'd read the Volcano Woman legend
twice, it fascinated her. The short narrative had exposed more
about the selfish side of human nature and the subsequent
consequences than any cut and paste news article. She remembered
reading a book that had began in Etruscan times. The
story revolved around an ancient tablet that over the centuries
had caused countless murders and terrible destruction. Could a missing
mask be responsible for what had happened in Cheltenham? She
still couldn't decide. On the one hand it seemed
too fanciful, on the other, the only credible option.

She
put the kettle on and thought about last night. Her
job dealt in facts, not fiction, a point Reynolds had
made clear to her in the pub. Before he went
home he'd invited her and Patterson for a drink
, except Reynolds only had fruit juice. He explained that his
doctor had advised him to cut down on wine and
spirits, a policeman's curse, he'd said. He didn
't mention Yeats again. Instead he entertained them with quirky
stories from his years in the force.

Elizabeth gulped her
tea and was ready to leave when she remembered Bagpuss
. She quickly filled up his bowl, opened the kitchen window
and shouted for him. Either he didn't hear or
he'd gone off further afield. She tried again but
still no sign, which was unusual, as he never missed
breakfast.

The forecast had promised a warmer day with the
chance of light showers. She pulled into the car park
ten minutes later and left the Saab in her favourite
spot, under a solitary beech tree. Park Road was quiet
as she crossed reception. Once in her office she checked
her email. She'd received one from the Canadian Embassy
confirming details about further consulate support for Jacob Morven. Elizabeth
read it carefully, noting the date of the next visit
from one of their officials. The email also mentioned the
International letter of request authorising liaison officers from Terrace to
meet with Morven. Today was the first time in her
career she'd welcomed overseas police officers. The amount of
diplomacy involved was staggering. She knew that they couldn't
investigate in the UK without permission from the Home Office
, but she still felt apprehensive. The chances are they would
arrive with a hostile attitude which might hamper both of
her investigations.

Her plan focused on lightening the atmosphere. Take
them to the canteen for a cup of tea and
maybe a cream scone. Subject them to a typical English
tradition. Talk cheerfully about mutual interests, make them feel at
home. Elizabeth knew it wasn't very original but it
would have to suffice. Park road seemed even shabbier today
as she tried to imagine it from their eyes. No
doubt back in Terrace, they had a light, airy modern
building with a well-equipped restaurant. God knows what they
'll make of this place, she thought.

Reading the email
's next section she was surprised to learn the Terrace
City Chief was a woman, one Inspector Gillian Walsh. Her
travelling companion was a Sergeant Stuart Adams from the forensic
identification services. Why send a senior officer she wondered. Surely
, a couple of lower ranks were capable of compiling a
report on the Morven situation. Elizabeth now wished she'd
prepared better, but time and lack of relevant information had
put paid to that idea. A postscript at the end
of the email stated that the direction the Canadian officers
intended to follow would remain confidential. So she was none
the wiser as to their remit.

Patterson seemed to think
they'd want to go straight to their hotel to
sleep off the jet lag, but Elizabeth knew what she
would do in their place. Suss out the senior investigating
officer first. These days police forces from all over the
world regularly collaborated, often very successfully. The arrangements were all
in place. All she had to do was welcome them
to Park Road.

Their imminent arrival meant she must hold
on to her authority. Reynolds had made it clear that
until the Yeats trial was publicly announced she was absolutely
on her own.

DC Darren Johnson knocked on her office
door. 'Dr Oakley is holding for you. Do you want
it put through?'

'Thanks Darren,' she replied, waited a few
seconds and picked up the handset.

'Sorry if you're
busy Liz but I wanted to double check something about
the papier-mâché masks.'

'Is this to do with the
paint chip analysis?'

'Yes, I'm missing three masks. The
list I was given states there should be eighteen. I
've only got fifteen.'

Jessica's caution was understandable. Even
the highly acclaimed government funded forensic laboratory had suffered damage
to its reputation due to several blunders including mislaying evidence
. Its failure to use the most up-to-date techniques
for extracting DNA samples had caused a scandal. Detectives had
ended up reviewing cases where samples had failed to provide
definitive DNA profiles.

'Sorry Jess. I assumed you had them
all.'

'Who dealt with them after I left the scene
?'

'Yeats did. He logged eighteen entries into the competition Morven
judged. I saw his notes.'

'I'm positive this particular
paint chip hasn't come from any of the masks
but it's vitally important I eliminate them all.'

An
unwelcome thought flashed into Elizabeth's head. 'I'm thinking
the unthinkable here.'

'Please no conspiracy theories. I joined Twitter
last night, it is mind boggling.'

'You know I don
't trust Yeats. He wouldn't be the first cop
to have tampered with evidence.'

'That's a dangerous assumption
unless you can prove it. What reason would he have
?'

'Deliberately frame Morven for a quick fix.'

Jessica sounded outraged
. 'It's virtually impossible to do that these days.'

Elizabeth
immediately regretted accusing Yeats. Jessica might repeat her words, and
if it got back to Reynolds, he would be furious
.

'Forget I said that. I've had a bad night
.'

'Ring as soon as the masks turn up. I might
collect them myself.'

Darren was back, this time looking sheepish
. 'Sorry, there's another call on line two. It's
a Mrs Fleming.'

'Tell her to ring me on my
mobile. I'll turn it on now.'

'I spoke to
ACC Reynolds last night?' Anita said. 'I'm relieved he
told you. I don't like lying.'

Elizabeth suspected that
Anita had probably done plenty of lying in her life
out of necessity, but didn't like saying so. 'I
want to see Daly, or if that's off limits
, talk to him,' Elizabeth stated firmly.

She heard Anita sigh
. 'We're a long way off tying this up. I
'm not saying you'd forget yourself, but even with
the best intentions leaks still happen. This is a big
operation Elizabeth, important we get it one hundred percent right
. Yeats has kept his nose clean all these years; I
'd hate to see him get off on a technicality
.'

Elizabeth had just made a stupid gaffe. She daren't
push Anita too far. 'So the answer is no.'

'For
the moment it is.'

I'm being selfish, she thought
. Daly is a busy man. Even if Anita had allowed
her to speak to him, listening to her problems was
the last thing he needed. She changed the subject. 'Is
Yeats looking at a long sentence?'

'That's not my
area of expertise. What I will say is people will
view Yeats' crimes differently. Some will see him as a
cold blooded killer, others as some kind of hero. It
's a fact that juries can be swayed and judges
don't always deliver the expected verdict. I've talked
to Yeats, and I don't think he cares what
happens to him. He sees himself as a soldier rather
than a cop. All those years waiting for this to
happen must have taken its toll. Going to prison will
seem the better option. He's still considered young enough
to start again after he's released.' Anita paused for
a while and Elizabeth sensed she had something else to
say. 'Don't be too alarmed but I need to
warn you. Please be careful. The other night, when you
thought I was scared...'

Elizabeth interrupted. 'I knew I wasn
't wrong.'

'Working on these historic cases doesn't come
without problems. Recent intelligence tells us we weren't the
only ones after Yeats; other people were and likely still
are. As I said, he's known for years he
was a target. That's precisely why he rented an
isolated property in Gloucestershire, so he could install sophisticated security
systems. After Patterson rang I came out immediately. As I
walked down the path I saw someone watching the house
from the other side of the street. I went back
inside and peered out of the window waiting for him
to leave. I gave it a few minutes and he
did. I'm saying he, but I can't be
sure. I just got through the gate when he appeared
from nowhere and started walking towards me. It was scary
Liz, old IRA type disguise, black clothes, balaclava and some
type of face covering. I ran back indoors and phoned
Reynolds. He told me to stay indoors and said he
would send an unmarked car with two armed rapid response
officers. Then I was stupid and decided to come down
to the pub and tell you about Patterson. I was
about halfway when down the road when I heard someone
pounding along behind me. I didn't look, just ran
as fast as I could.'