The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (23 page)

'Do you know how many times
we hear that when people end up in here?' Elizabeth
said.

Bellamy stuck his fingers in his ears. Mortimer closed
his eyes.

'It's usually the first words they say.
So forget going home until I say you can. This
is a police station, one of the few places on
the planet where you obey orders.'

'Can we just get
on with it then?' Mortimer stammered.

'When was the last
time you saw your late girlfriend?' Patterson asked.

'She wasn'
t my girlfriend,' Mortimer said. 'We just did sex.'

'Answer
the question,' Elizabeth said.

'I can't remember exactly, probably
a few days ago.'

Elizabeth pushed a pen and sheet
of paper towards him. 'That's not good enough. Start
writing and it might jog your memory.'

'What about you
Mr Bellamy? When did you last see Jade Harper?'

'Ages
ago. I didn't always hang out with her and
Dunc all the bloody time. I did have other mates.'

'
Have you got a girlfriend?'

'Not at the moment.'

'Maybe
you shared Jade?' Patterson suggested.

Mortimer shouted. 'She didn't
fancy him. It was me she couldn't get enough
of.'

Arrogant little bastard, Elizabeth thought. She'd decided not
to mention the mask. Right now, she needed them to
corroborate their whereabouts. 'Let's make it simple. Where were
you between ten pm and the early hours of this
morning?'

'I was at home,' Bellamy stated.

'So was I,'
Mortimer said.

'So I can phone your parents and they'
ll confirm you were there?'

Elizabeth waited for one of
them to break the silence.

Bellamy checked his designer watch. '
Can I phone my parents now? 'They'll be worried.'
Bellamy said.

Elizabeth shook her head. 'I don't care
if you sit here all day. We can leave and
find a uniformed officer to babysit you. Or, you can
start telling me the truth.'

'I saw Jade early evening,'
Mortimer said. She called me and demanded I meet her.
I thought we were going out drinking, but she had
other plans. She said she'd found something out but
couldn't tell me what it was.'

Elizabeth looked at
Patterson. 'So what was the point in asking to see
you? Did you ask what it was about?'

'Jade likes
to play mind games. She thinks it's great to
wind people up with stupid lies. Then when she has
you hooked, she clams up and you can't get
anything out of her. It drives me mad. Other than
that, she seemed fine. More than fine, she was buzzing,
like she was on speed. The last thing she said
to me was she'd be in touch, after she
was finished whatever she was doing.'

Elizabeth sat quietly, waiting
for more.

'She's a stupid bitch. We only ever
made use of each other,' Mortimer shouted.

Elizabeth noted he'
d referred to Jade in the present tense.

Bellamy added
another part to his alibi. 'Mum sent me down to
the twenty four hour garage to get fags.'

'That's
good news,' Patterson said. 'They all have video cameras.'

Mortimer
hadn't written anything down. Elizabeth had the distinct sensation
their intention was to bluff it out. Mortimer knew his
rights, and Bellamy would follow his example.

The door opened
and Eldridge walked in, his swollen cheekbone glistened with antiseptic
cream. 'I'm back,' he said.

Elizabeth stood up. 'Sergeant
Patterson needs to ring your parents. Then he'll drive
you home and talk to them.'

'So you believe us?'
Bellamy asked.

'I don't think so, but I'm
happy to be proved wrong.'

Eldridge shuffled after Patterson and
Elizabeth followed Mortimer and Bellamy. For two young men who
thought they were so switched on they had a lot
to learn. Neither of them had shown an ounce of
concern for the dead girl. However good or bad their
parents were, a visit from the police was still a
shock, which was in her favour. They might think twice
about lying to save their selfish offspring.

Out in the
corridor she remembered Yeats. Eldridge was about to disappear around
the corner when she called after him.

He walked towards
her. 'What's up?'

'You forgot to tell me about
Yeats. Did you manage to talk to him?'

Eldridge had
a puzzled expression. 'Sorry boss, it went out of my
head after I got clouted. I only rang once. He
wasn't there.'

'I told you to keep calling.'

'No
point,' Eldridge said. 'There was no reference to him returning
this weekend because he wasn't expected back until July.
Worse still, they had no idea where he'd gone.
I got the impression the bloke I spoke to was
panicking. He knew your name and said he'd get
in touch.'

'When?' Elizabeth asked, trying hard to figure out
why Yeats had lied about going to Belfast.

'He didn'
t say. I thought you wanted rid of him,' Eldridge
said.

There's no answer to that, she thought as
she made her way across reception.

Tom shouted to her. '
I was just about to ring you. You've got
visitors tomorrow morning.'

Elizabeth stopped. 'Tell them to make another
appointment.'

Tom grinned. 'Can't, it's too late. He
handed her the details. 'Two liaison officers from a place
called Terrace in British Columbia are presently on a flight
to Vancouver to connect with one coming in to Heathrow.
You'll need a welcoming party.'

Not another complication, she
thought. Where would she the find time to deal with
them? Yeats hadn't mentioned a visit before he took
off. It was another one of his manipulative ploys no
doubt. Deliberately left her in limbo hoping she'd fall
apart. 'Did Yeats mention this to you?'

'No, but everything'
s above board in BC. I've just taken a
call from Terrace. Apparently, Yeats knew exactly what day they
were arriving.'

Elizabeth felt exactly like Lee Bellamy had. She
wanted to go home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Nick Calbrain poured
another glass of red wine. He placed the empty bottle
by the kitchen door and took another one out of
a cupboard. It was unusual for him to drink during
the day but after the argument with Francisca, he felt
drained and anxious. She'd returned to Tarifa to help
with the wedding preparations and had insisted he join her
later in the week. For someone who insisted the UK
was home she still went back to Spain at least
once a month, usually at weekends.

At the height of
the row, Francisca wouldn't accept his decision and resorted
to shouting in Spanish. Although he understood some of the
language, he was completely lost as her hysteria escalated. He
was about to walk out when she stopped yelling and
burst into tears. From previous episodes, he knew it would
be days before he heard from her. Francisca had a
habit of over dramatising situations, which considering her job as
a crown prosecutor perplexed him. Apart from their mutual need
to settle down, marry and have children, at times he
couldn't help but question their relationship.

He had a
choice, accept her tempestuous personality or remain single and childless.
Looking back over the last decade provided the answer. His
life had comprised of too many unsettled and lonely years
and he loved Francisca enough to take the risk. At
times, he thought she was the most amazing woman in
the world. Right now, he was glad to be on
his own.

Two national newspapers had printed articles on the
Jade Harper murder. There was little information other than the
police were studying CCTV footage for any signs of her
killer, who was believed to have driven her body to
the dump site. Coming so soon after the art teacher'
s death, several local councillors were calling for more security
at Grasmere Academy.

What a mess, Calbrain thought. The tourist
season was imminent and Cheltenham's MP was predicting a
disastrous summer due to the adverse publicity. Calbrain disagreed. The
murders weren't likely to scare visitors away, rather the
opposite.

There were plenty of examples, both at home and
abroad. The population's fascination with tragedy knew no limits.
During his years as a crime journalist and then an
editor he'd become accustomed to death. He'd interviewed
many grieving families, whether their loved ones were the victims
of an accident or crime. Since he'd started a
new career he realised he was no longer as immune
to the violence. He stared at Jade Harper's photograph,
a young girl with no future and here he was
obsessing about his own trivial problems.

Francisca took her job
seriously and unlike him believed justice would always prevail. To
say she was an idealist was an understatement and one
of her more endearing characteristics he actually admired. He realised
his concentration was slipping and stopped reading. Once they were
married, things would settle down. Her demanding job meant she
liked her own space. Calbrain also knew how to keep
busy and he saw no problem keeping their working lives
separate. He knew it wasn't worth battling against her
numerous trips to Spain. Her parents were kind and generous
people who'd welcomed him into the family. Especially her
father, who, according to Francisca, had lost all hope she
would ever marry. Calbrain picked up the brochure advertising the
wedding venue, a famous hotel in a spectacular setting. This
event had all the hallmarks of a society wedding. The
Montero's were a well-known family expected to fulfill
their obligations.

Calbrain drank more wine and turned his attention
to why Elizabeth hadn't responded to his text. He
knew from experience the information could be worthless. It certainly
wasn't that all-important piece of the jigsaw, rather
a questionable snippet from a slightly dubious source. But who
knows, he thought. Most major investigations relied on sightings, and
Calbrain had learned never to ignore them, however fanciful. He
picked up his phone and stared at the screen. His
anger had died down and he was feeling more relaxed.
Asking her to go for a drink was a waste
of time. In a few months, any meeting with Elizabeth
Jewell would be out of the question. His fiancée was
a jealous woman. Not long after they'd started dating,
Francisca had demanded he tell her everything about his short
relationship with DI Jewell. Days went by before she finally
accepted she had nothing to fear. In reality, he still
thought about her and couldn't always understand why. In
any case it was pointless trying to figure it out.
He'd messed up his life enough in the past
and couldn't afford to again.

The alcohol had got
the better of his reasoning. He poured another drink, grabbed
his phone and tapped out a message.

CHAPTER FORTY

Tiredness
drove Elizabeth to the canteen at three pm. None of
the remaining meals appealed to her so she settled for
coffee and a piece of shortbread. She finished eating and
was about ring Jessica Oakley's when her phone rang.

The Assistant Chief Constable spoke curtly and briefly. He was
arriving at Park Road at seven pm and wished to
speak to her without any interruptions.

Elizabeth hadn't met
ACC Steve Reynolds very often. Compared to the Chief Constable
he was an easy going, softly spoken mild mannered man.
She hadn't asked why he wanted to see her
because she guessed it had something to do with Jade
Harper. One clear fact no one could dispute was the
Assistant Chief Constable socialised with Jade's father. Elizabeth presumed
the two men were freemasons and belonged to the same
lodge. Les Harper hadn't achieved his success without mixing
with the right people, including senior police officers. Whether she
approved was irrelevant, even a suggestion that their association was
inappropriate would cause too many bad vibes. Because she valued
Reynolds for his honesty, she hoped there were no sinister
undertones to his friendship with Harper.

Jessica Oakley took her
time answering. 'Sorry for not getting in touch sooner,' Elizabeth
said. 'I feel as if I'm being tossed about
in the middle of a tornado.'

'No worries. Not all
the results are sorted yet.'

'If I'm not disturbing
anything crucial can you talk me through this new evidence?'

Jessica laughed. 'It's not too technical, even for you.
We have a paint chip that doesn't tie in
or match with the other paint samples. This isn't
something you'd generally find inside a building, other than
a garage.'

'You're saying someone walked it in.'

'Shoes
act like magnets and are a fantastic source for microscopic
trace evidence. Unless you have OCD and clean them every
five minutes using a magnifying glass you'd never know
what had embedded into the sole. Having said that, however
well adhered, they can still work their way off. This
one did.'

'Hang on a minute. Morven and the cleaners
have already had their clothes and shoes examined. From the
shoe print analysis your first report stated they had all
stepped in red paint and blood mixture.'

'I didn't
discover this fragment on their shoes. It came from the
floor samples.'

Elizabeth was constantly amazed at what scientists could
do. Forensics were becoming even more sophisticated, and at a
dramatic pace. Police officers often had a job keeping up. '
So what's your theory?'

'Any number of people could
have trodden it into the building and it ended up
in the art department. I presume you know how accurate
paint matching is. We can identify which car, the model
and the colour. Your report states Morven didn't have
a car until McAllister arrived and they moved to Bibury.
How did he get to Cheltenham from Heathrow?'

Elizabeth went
through the facts. 'His plane landed at one thirty on
the afternoon of May 9th. He didn't come straight
here. He caught a train from Paddington to Bath and
met with Professor McAllister's academic friends, a married couple
who both teach at Bath University. They confirmed he stayed
overnight at their house. He left there early the next
morning and travelled by train to Cheltenham. He was at
Grasmere well before ten o'clock the following morning. He
took two taxis, which we've confirmed. One to Bath
railway station, and one from Cheltenham station to Grasmere. Jessica,
your fragment could have originated anywhere. I'm trying not
to be too negative, but this could end up a
monumental task and cost a fortune.'

Jessica replied. 'We all
know how many murderers never see the inside of a
courtroom. Years go by and we hear only a small
percentage of cold cases are solved. Microscopic pieces of evidence
are difficult to analyse and often controversial, giving defence lawyers
an edge. I haven't said this before Liz, but
the evidence against Morven might not be enough to secure
a conviction. If I was a prosecutor, I'd tell
you to come back when you had a cast iron
case.'

Elizabeth suddenly felt depressed. 'I've no idea what
he did or where he went prior to his arrest.'

'
I'm not saying definitively that Morven couldn't have
killed Wilson. You need to begin eliminating who or what,
left this paint chip at the scene. Start by compiling
a list of vehicles belonging to everyone who works at
Grasmere.'

'Come on Jessica, and after that. What about casual
workers, parents? How many pupils own cars?'

Jessica sounded exasperated. '
Liz, I can't tell you how to do your
job, but I can make suggestions. Start with the staff
and ancillary workers. I wouldn't have thought many pupils
had their own vehicles.'

Elizabeth looked at the time. 'Okay.
One more question. Did you get a chance to look
at the mask images from Sotheby's?'

'Pete compared them
to the ones the students did. He wants to talk
to you.'

'Did he say why?'

'He's the photographic
expert, you'd better ask him.'

The damage to the
papier-mâché masks on the afternoon of Wilson's murder
still troubled Elizabeth. That and the deliberate paint spillages seemed
more like an act of vandalism than a killer wasting
time trying to confuse the police and the CSI. Serial
killers usually liked to collect trophies but Wilson and Harper'
s deaths didn't match a serial MO. Unless, God
forbid, there was a third murder. Jessica was still talking
and Elizabeth had to ask her to repeat herself.

Why
don't you drop by tonight? We can catch up.'

'
I won't finish until late,' Elizabeth said. 'I have
an appointment with the ACC. If that's not enough
to send me crazy, two RCMP officers arrive tomorrow. More
back up for Morven, more shit for me.'

'Wow, Mounties.
You're a lucky woman. I'll work on a
good excuse to turn up while you're chatting to
them.'

Elizabeth laughed. 'They might be fat and ugly.'

'Only
tall handsome guys are allowed in the Mounties. I realise
you have your hands full, but it would be nice
to socialise.'

'We will. Tell Pete I'll ring him
tomorrow.'

While she was on the phone Elizabeth's coffee
had gone cold. She wanted a refill and something more
substantial in her stomach before her meeting with Reynolds. When
she walked back into the canteen there was a long
queue waiting to be served. She spotted the only vacant
table and made a beeline for it, but three uniformed
officers beat her to it.

She gave up and made
her way to the vending machine, passing Daly's old
office. On impulse, she tried the door handle and felt
her heart thump when it opened. She checked there was
no one else watching before going inside.