by Carole Pitt
It was after nine and getting dark when Elizabeth and Patterson pulled up in the Academy's car park.
Elizabeth stood by the car and pointed to four strategically positioned CCTV cameras. 'This area's certainly well covered.' she said.
Patterson took a closer look at the one nearest to him. 'These are night vision, a much higher resolution and even brighter thanTop of For..Bottom of Form the normal infrared LED ones. No expense spared here.'
'Protecting their vehicles is obviously high on their list of priorities. Seeing those, most car thieves would think twice. It's a pity the front entrance wasn't kitted out like this.'
Patterson used his phone to photograph the CCTV camera. 'The trouble is, Grasmere's biggest security problem is at the rear. The playing fields back on to Cresswell woods. Ages since I was last there but I remember it's densely forested. If I wanted to get in here undetected I'd go through the woods. Maybe I should check it out.'
Elizabeth opened the Saab's boot and took out a torch. 'You'll need this.'
Patterson disappeared behind a wall and Elizabeth followed the signs to the main entrance. She walked along a curved pathway lit by two-foot solar lamps. She stopped and concentrated on the surrounding area. Dotted here and there were areas planted with mature shrubs. Some were six or seven feet tall and planted close together, the dense foliage making it an ideal hiding place at night, but not so during daylight hours when Wilson was murdered.
She counted her paces and estimated the path was approximately a hundred yards to the entrance. Eldridge had said he would let her in, but when she climbed the steps and peered through the main doors there was no sign of him. She pressed the security pad and lit a cigarette. In front of her, well-kept lawns stretched several hundred yards down to the busy main road. To her left she spotted paved seating areas and to her right the tennis courts and school playing fields, which according to Patterson, led to the woods.
Her very first visit to the Academy wasn't to do with police business. She'd come with her friend Sally to see a Gilbert and Sullivan production of The Mikado. Even the old Grasmere comprehensive had a great reputation for musicals and she remembered reading about a former pupil who was now a well known actress.
She heard the main door opening and turned to see Eldridge. 'Sorry,' he said. 'Been trying to get hold of Beresford, he's the head teacher.'
'How long before he arrives?'
'He's on his way now.'
'Good,' she said and stubbed out her cigarette. She picked it up and dropped it in a waste bin. 'Where's Dr Oakley?'
'She's in the art department which is situated in the Dali annexe. The victim's name is Keith Wilson and he was killed in his office.'
'Naming a school wing after Salvador Dali is a great idea,' Elizabeth said. 'I've always liked surrealism; it's weird but really makes you think about how we see things.'
'Never heard of him,' Eldridge grunted.
'Instead of playing mindless computer games, look him up on the internet. You might just find it interesting. Years ago I saw an exhibition of Dali's jewellery designs. I don't think I've ever seen so many precious stones in one place.'
'My Mum took me to the Tower of London once. I can remember seeing the crown jewels.'
'Wayne, I know you'd prefer to stand here and talk to stay away in order to keep away from Yeats, but I need you to see Dr Oakley. Tell Yeats I'll be along soon.'
'I can't, he'll go nuts if I go back without you.'
Her first instinct was to ignore Yeats' summons, but Eldridge was in enough trouble over the gaming incident and she could see he was nervous.
'Patterson told me you were caught playing a fantasy game. I'm not going to bang on about it, other than to say you're an idiot.'
Eldridge had the decency not to argue. 'I promise it won't happen again. I'm giving up.'
'It better not. Look, go outside and have a smoke. I've come straight from the Faraday's warehouse and I need to gather my thoughts for a few minutes. Yeats can wait for once.'
'Thanks, he's done my head in since we got here.'
Elizabeth stood by the window and tried to work out why he needed her at the crime scene. It didn't make any sense. If Eldridge was right about him taking over the investigation it was unlikely he'd need her. However with his other obligations there was no way he could give the case his undivided attention.
The reception area was impressive. A curved staircase wound its way up three floors. Above it a pyramid shaped atrium soared several feet into the night sky. She checked the time and moved towards the stairs as Eldridge rushed back in. 'Don't go up there. Yeats is on the ground floor.'
Elizabeth followed him along a wide corridor with classrooms to the right. He stopped outside a door labelled Conference Room One, knocked and waited. Yeats opened it. 'Where the hell is this head teacher?' he demanded.
'He had to wait until his wife got home so she could give him a lift. He should be here any minute.'
'So the headmaster of a prestigious school doesn't own a vehicle.'
Eldridge shook his head. ‘I've no idea Sir.'
'Christ Almighty where's the man's sense of urgency. A murder in a big school isn't exactly an everyday occurrence. He could have phoned a cab or started walking.'
Elizabeth barged passed Yeats into the room. Two middle aged women and a younger man were sat at an oval table talking quietly and from their appearance were in shock. The taller of the two women introduced herself as Mavis Brand, the deputy head teacher. The other two explained they taught art and media studies.
Yeats sat down and addressed Mrs Brand. 'Did you witness many arguments between Beresford and his staff?'
'In a school this size you can't escape some tension and differences of opinion. Occasionally tempers would flare, but generally everyone made an effort to get on. We have to try and be decent role models for our pupils. God knows some of them don't have any in their lives, so it's vitally important.'
Seconds later, they heard footsteps outside. Giles Beresford was breathless as he stumbled through the door. 'Sorry, my wife was delayed. There's been an unbelievable traffic problem all day due to road works.'
Beresford was handsome, in an old Hollywood movie star way. He wore a double-breasted black pin stripe suit and his short fair hair parted on one side. Very Gatsby, Elizabeth thought.
'Where's your own car?' Yeats asked.
'In for an MOT, should be ready tomorrow. He pulled out a chair, and sat with his head in his hands. I can't believe such a dreadful thing has happened,' he said. 'It will ruin this school's standing in the community.'
Yeats didn't seem impressed by Beresford's attitude. 'I suggest you prepare yourself, things are going to get much worse. As for the school's reputation, that's not my concern.'
'Keith's murder doesn't make sense,' Beresford whined.
'No murder does,' Yeats answered. 'What I'd like you to do right now is make a list of all staff members, their addresses, landline and mobile numbers. We'll need to interview every single one of them.'
'Are you suggesting a staff member killed Keith? We have six hundred pupils. What about them?'
Mavis Brand stood up and sounded horrified. 'You can't accuse a pupil Giles. That's monstrous.'
'It's happened before, so why not here?'
Yeats repeated himself. 'The addresses and phone numbers please. The first forty-eight hours of a murder investigation are crucial.'
Beresford was struggling to speak. 'How am I supposed to contact them all when I'm in such a bloody state?'
'Leave that to us,' Yeats answered.
Elizabeth could see Beresford was in a state and looked close to tears. She wondered if he and Wilson had been close friends. Yeats' aggressive attitude wasn't helping him.
'You're in shock,' she said gently. 'Why don't you sit quietly for a few minutes?'
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br /> Beresford nodded and she glimpsed the tears on his dark eyelashes. 'Could someone make him a hot drink?' Elizabeth asked.
Mavis Brand stood up. 'I'll see to it.' She opened a cupboard and busied herself sorting out crockery.
Yeats threw Elizabeth a contemptuous look then turned back to Eldridge. 'When Mr Beresford's had his drink, go and help him. It might speed things up.'
Elizabeth wasn't prepared to stay for much longer. She needed to speak to Jessica Oakley at the crime scene. 'You wanted to see me Sir.'
'Outside,' he said.
Elizabeth had a bad premonition. Watching Yeats carefully over the last few weeks had enlightened her to the man's real character. He was a seasoned bully who showed signs of some type of personality disorder, one she couldn't readily identify.
They moved into the corridor and Yeats leaned against the wall. 'We need this clearing up quickly.'
'Have you spoken to Dr Oakley yet?' Elizabeth asked him.
'I left her to do her job. Beresford's acting strange. As soon as he's compiled the list I want to know where he was after the Canadian's lecture. Whether he stayed for the lunch party and if so what time did he leave this building. From the state he's in I reckon he's hiding something. A staff member overheard Wilson and him arguing.'
'Did this person hear what it was about?'
'Only that it wasn't the first time. She admitted to eavesdropping until she saw the Canadian bloke walking up the corridor. She didn't want to bump into him so she rushed back to her classroom.'
Elizabeth guessed who the unnamed witness was, the female art teacher inside the conference room.
'Who is this Canadian man?' she asked.
'He's Nisga'a First Nation from somewhere in British Columbia. That's a point; I need to find out which hotel he's in.'
'Surely you don't suspect this man. He came here to educate the kids, not brutally kill one of their teachers.'
'I will decide who the suspects are Jewell. Not you.'
Elizabeth heard the derision in his voice. He was determined to demoralize at every opportunity. 'If you'll excuse me Sir, I need to catch up with Dr Oakley before she leaves.'
Yeats' eyes turned hostile. She wondered how long it was worth continuing their charade. It was evident he disliked her more as the weeks went by. 'Are you and Oakley mates?'
'More like acquaintances, we see each other socially now and then.'
'Then meeting her here is more than a professional encounter.' Yeats snapped.
At first Elizabeth wasn't sure what he meant. Then it dawned on her. 'I don't indulge in idle gossip when I'm working, if that's what you're getting at. Of course I'll ask how she is, but we're both here for a purpose, so you're wrong again.'
'You're known as a time waster. No one gets away with that when I'm in charge.'
Elizabeth had to curtail her fury. Unlike Daly, she couldn't fly off the handle whenever she felt like it. 'Whatever you say Sir.'
'Where's Patterson?' he asked.
She watched his eyes and knew she'd made a mistake. By dragging Patterson along he'd assume she'd added him to the investigation team. 'He's waiting for me in the car,' she lied.
He watched her carefully. 'You're lying and I don't take kindly to liars. You brought Patterson deliberately so you'd have an ally on this case. I asked specifically for you, not him as well. You've just proved to me you're suitability for this murder enquiry is debatable.'
Elizabeth didn't intend to grovel. 'You're the boss,' she said, turned her back on him and walked away.
Yeats grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around. 'Don't mess with me Jewell. I'm not Daly. You and Patterson are joined at the hip and I've already figured out your tactics. You want rid of me, I knew that the first time I clapped eyes on you and you'll use as many people as you can to achieve it. Well safety in numbers won't help you. I haven't decided how to deal with you but tell your Sergeant he's back on desk duty. Indefinitely.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
Elizabeth hurried back to the main entrance hoping no one would see her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Patterson lounging against the Saab.
'I was just about to phone you,' he said.
'It's a good job you didn't. Listen, take the car and go back to Park Road. I still haven't spoken to Jessica.'
Patterson's eyes narrowed, he was no fool, especially when someone was economical with the truth. 'Yeats has upset you, hasn't he?'
'Annoyed me, but then he'd annoy a saint. How did you get on in the woods?'
'I'd forgotten how scary it was. I wouldn't recommend anyone go there at this time of night. As for a method of gaining access, I'd give Cresswell woods five stars. We need Crime Scene in there early tomorrow morning.'
Elizabeth needed to stall. Right now she couldn't face telling him Yeats's decision. 'I'll organise that. Listen, I better get back inside.'
Patterson looked confused. 'Do you want me to come back and collect you?'
'Go home Tony. I'll ring Darren when I'm ready.'
She watched him drive away and dreaded having to tell him about Yeats' ultimatum.
Jessica Oakley was on her knees bent over Wilson's body. Elizabeth stood on the other side of his office door. Jessica heard her and looked up. 'Two ticks Liz, I'm nearly done.'
'I need a coverall,' Elizabeth said.
'Jessica signalled to one of the crime scene investigators. 'Sid, find DI Jewell a flattering outfit. He searched through a plastic container and handed over a sealed package. Elizabeth removed the blue suit from its package and slipped it on.
Jessica peeled off her latex gloves, dumped them into a biohazard bag and came towards her. 'I haven't seen you for ages Liz.'
'I heard a rumour you were moving to Bristol,' Elizabeth said.
'I changed my mind, but it's a long story which I promise to tell when there's more time.'
Although Elizabeth didn't see the pathologist very often, she'd always admired her. Jessica lived in Cheltenham but worked mainly in Gloucester hospital in the laboratories. She was also one the few senior pathologists who covered for Joe Grayson during his holidays or in emergencies. 'I'm here unofficially. Yeats has just told me Patterson and I are not on the Wilson case.'
'Who is Senior Investigating Officer?' Jessica asked.
'Yeats.'
Jessica grimaced. 'I better shape up before he starts on me. I've barely spoken to him and he gives me the creeps. He certainly wouldn't win any charm awards.'
'You'll be okay. He can't alienate everybody.'
'Why you Liz, what have you done to antagonise him?'
'God knows. Since he took over at the beginning of March, I've made an effort to get on with him. He's on edge all the time, as if he's waiting for something to happen. I'm probably overreacting but I think he's dangerous.'
'Be careful, I know a cold specimen when I see one. My advice is stay out of his way.' Jessica looked out into the corridor. 'Get in quick and I'll tell you what I've deduced so far.'
Elizabeth stepped through the doorway and entered the crime scene.
'I've examined the victim and I'm certain he was killed no more than two hours ago. The younger cleaner had copious amounts of blood splatter on her hands and sections of her clothing. Without asking the older woman to strip, I can't be sure how close she got to the body. If these women aren't suspects then it's a miracle neither of them was attacked. Whoever killed the teacher might have killed them too.'
Elizabeth thought for a few seconds. 'Which tells me two things, the killer either didn't know they were in the building, or if he did know, he didn't care. Most teachers have an idea when cleaners come and go which means we have plenty of potential suspects working here. I'll go with two possible scenarios. A disgruntled teacher maybe, or student reaping revenge. Or, Wilson disturbed a burglar.'
'I agree
Liz, eliminate an inside job first. Jessica peered through the window and pointed to the headlights. 'The first vultures have arrived. Two media vans have just pulled up. A murder in a big school like this is bad news,' Jessica said.
'Unfortunately it's good news for them.'
Elizabeth gave the immediate area her full attention. She'd attended far worse crime scenes. The killer had trashed Wilson's office and the adjoining studio and gallery giving credence to the burglary theory. It was obvious the killer had searched for something but time had run out. She moved carefully towards Wilson's body. It lay at right angles to a large desk positioned like the letter X, his expression bewildered. As if he was trying to make up his mind about something before he'd died. She stared at the knife. It would have taken a lot of force to push the weapon in up to the hilt.
She stood up and spoke to Jessica. 'That's an interesting handle. I don't think I have seen anything like it before.'
'I can't be absolutely certain until I take it out, but I don't think it's actually a knife.'
'Can you be more specific?' Elizabeth asked.
'I'm no expert Liz. Like I said let's wait until it's out.'
Elizabeth pointed at the stains on the floor. 'I can see plenty of blood has seeped from the wound, but that's a different red, so what is it?'
'It's ordinary emulsion they use for painting scenery. Whoever's in charge certainly didn't deprive the pupils of artist's materials; the storeroom is full. My guess is the killer deliberately contaminated the scene and paint was the only thing available. He could hardly waste time looking for a bottle of bleach. I can't understand his logic, probably panicked and thought it might confuse us.'
'Unless someone tripped over it,' Elizabeth said.
'You mean the cleaner who found him?'
'Maybe Wilson had opened it in preparation for his class and left it on the floor.' Elizabeth suggested.
'Those areas where the paint and blood have merged together will cause problems but we might get lucky once they're analysed. Right, this is what I've surmised so far. Our killer stabbed Wilson while he was standing up. Wilson tried pulling the weapon out and when he realised he couldn't, staggered to the door hoping to alert someone. Then he must've fallen backwards and that's when the killer moved him. There are drag marks on the floor here,' Jessica pointed to the smeared blood.