The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (29 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

It was eight miles to the
ancient Saxon town of Winchcombe. Elizabeth sat quietly and gazed
out of the window. Patterson drove past Sudeley Castle where
its most famous resident is entombed, Queen Catherine Powell, the
sixth wife of Henry the eighth.

Beresford and his wife
lived in a Cotswold stone mansion dating back to the
seventeenth century. Elizabeth had read in a magazine that Mrs
Beresford had inherited a fortune from her grandfather, who was
also a politician. Elizabeth got out of the car and
admired the property. If Crosbie's gossip was true, why
would Giles Beresford risk his luxury lifestyle for sex with
other women? Why not do what Morven and McAllister did
and pay for it. Even a head teacher's salary
would cover such encounters.

Patterson had phoned the school to
see if Beresford was staying late. The deputy informed him
that he'd left the premises shortly after the end
of lessons. Rather than make an appointment they'd opted
for the surprise element. Elizabeth knew it would take time
for the DVLA to produce all the relevant names and
addresses. They'd identified the make and model and she
intended to confront Beresford with this new line of enquiry
giving him the opportunity to clear himself of any involvement
. It wasn't unknown for teachers to have affairs with
their students and with Jade Harper's reputation, that scenario
was also a possibility.

Patterson banged on the door and
they heard a dog bark, then a woman's voice
, shouting. They waited a couple of minutes before she opened
up. She was attractive rather than beautiful, and Elizabeth immediately
thought she must be several years older than her husband
. She looked at them wide eyed. 'I'm sorry but
the dog jumps up at strangers so I lock him
in the dining room.'

She ushered them into a large
square hall. In the centre stood a magnificent dining table
surrounded by ten chairs. The walls were lined with carefully
arranged bookshelves and a wrought iron chandelier complete with fake
candles hung from the ceiling. Elizabeth felt as if she
'd been transported into the famous board game and was
playing the part of Miss Scarlett. Mrs Beresford didn't
offer any drinks but suggested they sit at the table
. It was highly polished, very dark oak pitted from centuries
of use. Elizabeth glanced down at the intricate cross stitch
seat covers and pictured ladies in waiting from the Tudor
era bent over their embroidery. Everything shone, the brass, the
silver, the picture frames, nothing was out of place.

Elizabeth
introduced herself and Patterson. 'We need to speak to your
husband about Keith Wilson's murder.'

Mrs Beresford's smile
vanished, 'My husband's already been interviewed and is unlikely
to be of any further help.'

'I'm sure you
realise obstructing a police investigation can be construed as perverting
the course of justice. You have a very responsible job
with the government, I suggest you cooperate.'

Jane Beresford's
mouth pursed with anger. 'He's busy in the garden
. Shall we go out or shall I fetch him?'

'We
'd prefer to talk to him privately,' Patterson said.

Jane
Beresford didn't appear to like that idea either. Elizabeth
assumed she was used to having her own way.

'We
've nothing to hide from each other. This is a
blatant intrusion of our privacy. I don't honestly see
how you could possibly imagine either of us had anything
to do with the deaths of these two people.'

Referring
to the victims as she did made Elizabeth wonder if
Mrs Beresford suffered from a type of dissociative disorder, or
even a form of narcissism. Her reluctance to recognise Wilson
and Harper by name suggested she preferred a state of
denial rather than face any unpleasantness. Or was she just
a typical narcissist, lacking empathy? Either way Elizabeth found her
attitude interesting, as prolonged detachment from reality resulted in amnesiac
episodes.

A thought crossed her mind. Was this pillar of
society capable of murdering two people? Now she'd met
her Elizabeth changed her mind. It would be better if
she stayed. Observing how husband and wife interacted might reveal
other aspects of their relationship.

'If you prefer, we can
always go back to Park Road.'

Jane Beresford didn't
reply but headed through an ornately carved arch into a
dark passageway. Elizabeth and Patterson followed until they reached the
entrance to a reproduction Victorian style conservatory.

Elizabeth could never
understand why planning permission varied so much. How come the
owners of a grade two listed building had been given
permission to build what amounted to a monstrous extension? She
'd had to beg the council to erect a tiny
garden shed, but a cabinet minister's job obviously guaranteed
exemption from building regulations.

The garden was huge and as
they stepped onto a paved patio Elizabeth spotted Beresford bending
over a rose bush. He put down secateurs and walked
towards them.

'Shall we sit down?' Beresford said, and pointed
to the ironwork patio furniture.

Jane Beresford's face was
twisted with anger. 'I don't care if you drag
me to your police station, I refuse to be humiliated
,' she said.

Elizabeth waited until she was back in the
house. They heard a door slam inside.

'She's upset
,' Beresford said.

'It's not surprising if she's aware
of the gossip. This is about your private life. Several
witnesses claim to have seen you with other women.'

Beresford
avoided her gaze. 'Jane already knows,' Beresford stated.

Patterson used
his confidential tone. 'A man in your position is a
prime target for blackmail. Wilson had lost the job he
'd coveted to Jackie Kilmartin, making him extremely upset. Maybe
he wanted revenge and didn't care who was in
his sights, as long as he felt better. Like threatening
to tell your wife what you were up to. From
our point of view it would explain why he bragged
about coming into money,' Patterson said.

'Wilson wasn't blackmailing
me. If he'd tried I would have owned up
. Our marriage has been rocky for a while. I've
had affairs with several women. Rather than get divorced, she
pretends it isn't happening.'

'I gather your alibi for
the nights in question is one of your lady friends
?' Elizabeth asked.

'Jane was away abroad, and yes I took
the opportunity to make the most of it.'

Patterson stood
up. 'We need her name, any phone numbers and address
.'

Beresford's expression was hard to read. 'I didn't
abduct Jade and move her dead body in my car
, if that's what you're hinting at. I told
Inspector Yeats it was having an MOT test.'

'The trouble
is,' Patterson continued, 'I asked your deputy when I rang
up earlier today, the make and model of your car
. She gave us the same details you gave to DI
Yeats. Unfortunately, this vehicle you claimed was having its MOT
is not the one currently registered to you.'

For the
first time, Beresford seemed alarmed. 'It went to the garage
to be tested. When I went back to collect it
they told me there were a few problems and gave
me an estimate. The cost of the repairs was stupid
money, so I queried it. The mechanic said I'd
be better off spending it on a newer car and
I agreed with him. We all know when a car
is not worth fixing, so what do you do? You
get a new one. The mechanic offered me cash there
and then, so I took it.'

To Elizabeth's ears
, it sounded like a scam. Lie to the gullible customer
and get the car at rock bottom price. 'So what
happened to it?'

'I assume he's sold it by
now.'

'He'll confirm what you've just told us
?' Patterson said.

'Of course he will.'

'Do you know who
took it off his hands?'

'I've no idea. These
young mechanics always have mates on the lookout for a
cheap vehicle. I gave him the registration documents to sort
out. The next day I went straight to the BMW
dealership and bought another car, which I presume isn't
the model you're after.'

'Nor is the one you
've just sold,' Patterson said. 'Do any of your children
drive?'

'The two youngest ones aren't old enough. Jane
has an older daughter who does, but she's at
university and hasn't got a car at the moment
.'

'That would be your stepdaughter then?' Patterson said.

Elizabeth could
see Beresford was struggling to stay calm. He raised his
voice. 'Correct.'

'I'd like to move on,' she said
. 'Did you have a good relationship with Wilson?'

Beresford pushed
his hair back and Elizabeth noticed his hand was shaking
. 'He wasn't an easy person to get along with
. Certain aspects of his personality caused trouble, especially after Jackie
took over as head of the art department.'

'Did you
mix with him socially?'

'Only during school functions, no other
time.'

Elizabeth heard a sound and turned her head. Jane
Beresford had crept back quietly and was listening.

'He was
an embarrassment,' she said. 'I suppose you think I'm
a snob, but we have lots of occasions where I
invite my Parliamentary colleagues to this house. He would not
have fitted in. Whatever accusations you hurl at my husband
, our private life has to be exemplary. Therefore I will
ask you to hand over the names of your so
called witnesses.'

'I can't do that,' Elizabeth answered.

'Then
tell me, is it likely the newspapers will print these
allegations?' Jane Beresford asked, 'because, if so we will contact
our lawyers immediately.'

'If they do it won't be
because of anything we've said. Contrary to popular opinion
, not all police officers are in bed with the media
,' Elizabeth answered.

The Beresfords regarded each other. Elizabeth could feel
the tension and wished she were out of their house
. 'I think that's all for now,' she said. 'Please
bear in mind we may have to come back.'

Patterson
reminded Beresford about the name and address. Once he'd
handed it over Jane Beresford showed them the way through
the garden. From there, a narrow path led to the
back of the house. Parked in front of the garage
was a black BMW convertible. Patterson walked around it making
appreciative noises. Elizabeth was staring at the modern structure thinking
the garage, like the conservatory was also out of keeping
with the house. It didn't have any windows, which
she found odd.

She checked the time. 'Let's call
it a day Tony. I need to go home and
have an early night. First thing tomorrow, get back over
here and talk to this mechanic. Whoever bought the car
forgot to send off the new keeper supplement on the
registration form, but the mechanic, would have to fill out
the motor traders' section. He'll have the name and
address of the person he sold it too.'

'Why bother
with it when it's not the right vehicle?'