The Cedar Face: DI Jewell book 3 (DI Elizabeth Jewell) (7 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sunday 12th May

Elizabeth turned up
the radio to hear the one o' clock news and
weather forecast. If yesterday was unseasonably warm, the temperature today
was set to rise even more. She opened the French
doors leading into the garden and noticed Bagpuss, her adopted
marmalade cat, sunning himself on the lawn. Because it was
a beautiful day she filled his bowls and took them
outside.

'Room service,' she mimicked and stroked his large head
. 'When you've scoffed this lot you might consider going
for a long walk across the fields, or climb a
few trees. On second thoughts don't climb any trees
; I wouldn't want to lose my friends in the
Fire Service.'

Sleeping until ten had left her feeling energised
despite the scary run through Cresswell woods. From the moment
she'd set foot inside the creepy dank atmosphere Elizabeth
had regretted her crazy impulse to avoid the press. The
night had clouded over and with no moon to break
up the forbidding darkness she'd started running immediately. By
the time she reached the street she'd had to
stop for five minutes to get her breath back. One
or two pedestrians had given her odd looks as she
leaned against a wrought iron fence clutching her chest. She
was glad Patterson had rescued her.

Rather than lie in
and waste her day, Elizabeth set to. The bird feeders
needed filling up and the birdbath cleaning out. It was
a good day to tackle mundane jobs. She spent half
an hour on bird maintenance then sat on the patio
and scrutinised the garden. Her own efforts the previous summer
had been disappointing. Then in early March she'd overheard
two of her neighbours complaining about her overgrown hedges and
piles of rubbish so she'd hired someone to do
the heavy work, a local gardener called Gerry Redwood. Not
that they'd complained to her.

'Because I'm a
cop,' she'd told Gerry, 'they daren't say anything
to my face.'

Now she was tempted to invite them
over to see the transformation. She prodded the soil in
one of the pots and dutifully filled up her new
watering can. The cost of the plants and Gerry's
wages had made a dent in her household budget but
the results were well worth it. Last year she'd
tried planting up patio containers but hadn't bothered to
feed or water them. Having Gerry to remind her made
a difference.

She wandered over to Bagpuss. 'I might cut
the grass later.' she told Bagpuss, who opened one eye
to confirm he'd heard.

Back indoors, Elizabeth noticed the
sitting room door was slightly open and she could hear
snoring. She poked her head in and saw Patterson sleeping
on the sofa. When she'd gone up to bed
, a little the worse for wear, he'd assured her
he would ring for a taxi. At two in the
morning she'd come downstairs for water to stave off
the inevitable hangover and saw Patterson fast asleep on her
sofa.

She'd just unhooked a large frying pan and
placed it on the stove when the phone rang. Her
first instinct was to ignore it but too many years
policing said otherwise.

When she heard the voice at the
other end her heart lurched.

'I want you and Patterson
in my office in half an hour,' Yeats said.

'I
'm taking the day off. Check the rota, I have
at least a month's leave owing.'

Yeats sounded furious
. 'Wilson's murder is headlines in the national press. Everyone
comes in unless they’re seriously ill and Patterson's
not answering my calls. Where he is?'

Sorry, I don
’t know, I've just got out of bed, you
'll have to keep trying,' she replied.

'Half an hour
Jewell,' he ordered.

Elizabeth allowed herself a smile. 'I'll
think about it,' she said and hung up.

While she
cooked the bacon and eggs, Liam Yeats dominated her thoughts
, but this time with no ill effect. His criticism of
Park Road's morale had some justification, not that she
would ever admit he had a point. There had been
occasions when even she'd despaired, especially during January. Daly
had seemed unusually preoccupied and it wasn't necessarily about
the Steele investigation. However, for the most part her team
had pulled together despite a limited budget. Gloucestershire might have
its fair share of wealthy residents, but it was still
a predominantly rural county and couldn't command large amounts
of government support unlike big cities.

Why the powers chose
Yeats to take over from Daly baffled Elizabeth. Redeployed officers
were common enough if there was a temporary gap to
fill. Or even a permanent one. She'd worked alongside
officers from all over the UK without any problems. The
Daly situation had shocked and surprised everyone. Yes, he'd
constantly prevaricated over exactly when he intended to retire. Elizabeth
had become so accustomed to his indecision she assumed he
would hang on until the brass kicked him out. Leaving
without any warning had fuelled plenty of conspiracy theories. The
official explanation was worse than vague. DCS Daly had a
family crisis, which only he could sort out. Since the
middle of February, no one from Park Road had seen
him, or if they had they'd kept quiet about
it. Each time a solution occurred to her no amount
of analysis resulted in a logical answer to the mystery
. Out of respect for her previous boss and his wife
, she'd refrained from using her usual scheming methods to
locate his whereabouts. She glanced in the pan and moved
it away from the heat before the breakfast burned. Last
night she'd listened to Patterson's justified hostility against
Yeats and the indignity of returning to a desk job
. In the past, he hadn't always taken kindly to
some of her wild ideas. When she'd outlined a
plan, he hadn't uttered one word of protest. As
he pointed out, research was one of his talents and
he was clever at covering his tracks. Whatever olive branch
Yeats was offering she was determined to dig into his
past. Everyone had something to hide, and Yeats was no
exception.

The smell from the kitchen had obviously drifted into
the sitting room and woken Patterson. She heard him sorting
himself out before shuffling into the kitchen. 'That smells great
. I was lying there feeling miserable about my new status
. Then I smelled the fry up, the best remedy for
severe depression.'

'I don't think the bacon and eggs
will cure it this time. Yeats wants to see us
in half an hour.'

'What for?'

'My laptop's on
. Check the online news.'

Patterson punched a few keys. 'I
see what you mean. Typical alarmist headlines, "
SPA TOWN DEMANDS
ANSWERS. KIDS TO STAY AT HOME. MURDER AT FLAGSHIP ACADEMY
",
and so they go on.'

'That'll do it.'
Elizabeth said as she transferred the contents of the frying
pan onto plates. 'We can always defy Yeats,' she suggested.

'
Yeats has given Katie Gardiner a lot more responsibility. Watch
her lord it over me from now on. Then Eldridge
will follow suit. The two of them will make my
life a misery.'

'Okay, we'll go. I can't
have those two bossing you about.'

'I don't trust
her now. She's ambitious and will hitch her wagon
to anyone who can advance her career. She's not
likely to put a foot wrong with Yeats.'

'You forget
I recommended her for CID. Only the other day she
thanked me for my support.'

Elizabeth looked at him carefully.
Apart from his bleary eyes he appeared well. He'd
lost his bulk due to the ban on playing rugby.
She knew he missed the game, but after his head
injury, the consultant had forbidden any sport for a year.

'
There are hundreds of girls in Cheltenham Tony. For God'
s sake, go out and find one. You had your
chance and didn't take it.'

Patterson had wolfed down
half of his breakfast. 'Can I use your shower? I
don't want to look like a quivering wreck in
front of Yeats.'

Elizabeth grinned. 'Let's hope he'll
be the quivering wreck one day. Then he'll be
glad to get back to Belfast.'

Twenty minutes later Patterson
knocked on Yeats' door but there was no answer. 'He'
s deliberately keeping us waiting,' Elizabeth moaned.

'I need another
coffee and a Twix. Do you want anything?' Patterson asked.

'
How can you manage a Twix after the breakfast I
laid on?'

'Sugar Liz, it keeps the tremors away.'

'Okay.'
Elizabeth rummaged in her bag and retrieved her purse. She
handed Patterson three pound coins. 'Make that two Twix bars
and I'll have a Cappuccino.

Patterson was about to
go when Yeats stormed along the corridor. He ignored them
and barged into the office. They followed him in and
waited for him to speak. Elizabeth studied the man's
body language carefully. He appeared tense and irritable as he
sat down in front of his laptop. 'I can't
spare very much time. We have a major development in
the Wilson murder.'

Elizabeth experienced the familiar adrenaline rush. 'Do
you mean a suspect?'

'Yes Inspector Jewell, we have a
suspect. Why should that surprise you? Don't tell me,
I know, because this has happened within twenty-four hours.
Not a scenario you're familiar with.'

'Less than twenty-
four hours in this instance is surprising, Sir. May I
ask who the suspect is?'

Yeats tapped a key on
his laptop then stood up. 'Listen. I'm willing to
meet both of you halfway but you have to accept
Daly ran a sloppy HQ and I want everything tightened
up. He should have retired and left without tarnishing his
service record. But he was too stubborn, let that be
a lesson.'

'Who's the suspect?' Elizabeth asked

'A Canadian
called Jacob Morven, here on an educational exchange to talk
about First Nation culture. He arrived in the UK three
weeks ago and is due to fly back to Vancouver
next Wednesday. He's spent the time touring a few
Gloucestershire schools. Yesterday was the Grasmere Academy's turn. According
to a witness statement, he was the last person to
see Keith Wilson alive. We have probable cause to warrant
bringing him in for questioning. I'm expecting an email
from Dr Oakley soon on the initial post mortem results.
Until we have confirmation on the other forensics, I've
got Morven under surveillance. If he decides to leave the
country before Wednesday, we'll stop him.'

Elizabeth gritted her
teeth. 'I hope you don't mind me saying, but
aren't you jumping the gun?'

'Let me repeat, Morven,
by all accounts was the last person to see the
victim. What does that usually signify?'

'We rule them out
or rule them in,' Patterson said

'Did you check for
any criminal record?' Elizabeth asked.

Yeats glowered and Elizabeth realised
her mistake. A man with a history of dealing with
terrorist attacks wouldn't overlook such basic procedure.

'I phoned
and spoke to a senior officer in his hometown. Morven'
s a high profile political campaigner for the Nisga'a
peoples. Two fines for minor offences, probably traffic. He's
sending me the details.'