by Carole Pitt
Elizabeth had worried about local reaction to the news but fate had intervened in the form of widespread news coverage of a notorious people trafficker. This man's lawyer had also secured bail for his client, so those who wished to voice their opinion, targeted him instead of Morven.
Elizabeth had no illusions. She knew that in order to beat the judicial system you needed money. Top lawyers, injunctions and reputation managers did not come cheap. Anyone worried about a dodgy past resurfacing usually employed certain organisations to rewrite their history.. If the media rebelled and printed detrimental articles about you, a libel suit would stop them. With enough money, a person could cover up anything, even murder.
Teresa Lane had stood outside the court and used a well known quote. "It's a wise judge that errs on the side of caution." She'd spoken briefly to reporters briefly putting emphasis on her client's innocence. When asked, she confirmed that his trial was unlikely to start until the autumn. Morven had the usual restrictions placed on him. He could not leave the country, had to register an address and was obliged to regularly report to the police station. What did surprise Elizabeth was Morven's friend and colleague, John McAllister, had finally arrived from Canada. Following advice from Teresa Lane they'd rented a secluded country cottage to protect their privacy.
Media reports had escalated after the court appearance. Morven had unwittingly achieved celebrity status. Stories about him had appeared not just in the UK, but also in Canada and the US. Elizabeth despaired, what the papers lacked in facts they had made up for with sensationalism. If Morven's picture was on the front page, the paper sold. He was dubbed an enigmatic First Nations advocate, cruelly detained by a bungling police force. Similar international headlines brought him more public sympathy. This fuelled a greater interest in anything Native Art and sales doubled.
This wasn't the first time someone accused of a serious crime had attained celebrity status. Even those who felt he was probably guilty pointed out he was still a figurehead for his oppressed people and no different from Nelson Mandela.
Elizabeth had experienced bad press before. Both personally and as a Gloucestershire police officer, but this time it was a tidal wave that threatened to drown her.
At least Patterson had submitted the forensic accountant's report to the CPS and had a positive result. The Faraday brothers were re-arrested and held on remand.
The weather had alternated between cool showers and hot sunshine. Elizabeth dressed in a simple black linen shift and rope wedged sandals to keep cool. She also took care applying her makeup. As soon as she was satisfied with her appearance she picked up her bag and sunglasses and headed for the Saab, she was on her way to see Anita Fleming.
Elizabeth's old friend lived in Uley, a village not far from the M5. Instead of taking the motorway, she headed onto the A46 to Nailsworth. From Sainsbury's she headed south and turned off onto a narrow country road. For once, she wasn't in a hurry and kept her speed down. Thinking about Anita made her feel guilty; she hadn't visited her for nearly six months. At one time they'd met up regularly for a day out in Cheltenham or Oxford. Anita had recently finished writing her biography, and encouraged by the book's success the publisher had asked the retired Oxfordshire Chief Constable to write a true crime novel. Elizabeth knew it was about one of the UK's most notorious murder cases, one Anita had worked on.
Elizabeth's parents had lived in the same street as Anita. Around the time she'd moved there she was promoted to Detective Inspector. As a regular visitor to the Jewell home she took an interest in the eighteen-year-old Elizabeth, who hadn't a clue what she wanted to do. With no desire to go to university, the older woman had suggested joining the police force. Elizabeth hadn't realised she possessed the right characteristics and it wasn't until five years later she took her advice. Anita could have easily used her senior position to influence Elizabeth's progress through the ranks, but she didn't. Instead, Elizabeth threw herself headlong into a career she wasn't convinced would get her anywhere.
It was much later when Elizabeth discovered DCS Daly and Anita Fleming knew each other. Curious about their friendship she'd asked too many questions and he'd clammed up, refusing to discuss the topic further.
Elizabeth reached the steep hill leading to the village and as she negotiated the sharp bends, she hoped arriving unannounced would be okay. She turned off the main road and pulled up outside the cottage her friend had bought years ago. A modern apartment in the centre of Oxford was her permanent home. This place was her retreat, a country cottage for her retirement.
Anita's car wasn't in the driveway and Elizabeth wondered if she'd finally given up driving. Perhaps it was the reason she was reluctant to meet up as often, or had suffered another health problem. She'd had a cancer scare and had recovered well, but realistically there was always the chance the illness could come back.
Elizabeth rang the bell. When there was no answer, she unlatched the side gate leading to the back garden. She watched as Anita carried a brightly coloured shrub and dropped it into a prepared hole in the ground. The colour and shape reminded Elizabeth of bougainvillea and her last trip to Portugal. Careful of frightening her, she shouted first. Anita stood up, a tall striking woman, her long grey hair hidden under a baseball cap. As usual, she wore old jeans and a baggy t-shirt. As she moved closer, Elizabeth was relieved at how healthy she looked.
'My God,' Anita said, pulling off her heavy duty gloves. 'This is a surprise.'
She threw the gardening gloves onto a small circular table and held out her hands. Elizabeth grabbed hold of them. 'I should have rung but I felt ashamed for not keeping in touch.'
Anita put her finger to her lips. 'No need for all that nonsense. We lead busy lives and that's why I'm out here in the sunshine. I'm almost finished the new book so I deserve a break. Don't feel guilty for not visiting. I've turned into a recluse lately, so much for me longing for a sociable retirement.'
Elizabeth followed her through the old French doors into a large spacious kitchen. From the front, the cottage appeared deceptively small yet it had two reception rooms and three bedrooms. Anita filled the kettle and switched it on. 'First of all I want to say sorry for not informing you about Ted Daly.'
Elizabeth's heart flipped and she wondered if she'd heard correctly. 'What do you mean, you're sorry?'
'Let me make the tea first.'
Elizabeth felt like a thunderbolt had struck her. 'What's happened to him?'
Anita smiled and placed two mugs on the kitchen table. 'Don't be alarmed, he's recuperating nicely.'
'God Anita, I've been worried sick not knowing where he'd gone.'
'I couldn't say anything before now because that was the way he wanted it. He hated the idea of everyone knowing he was ill. Jean had to keep her mouth shut as well, the old sod made it very difficult for us. The doctor's weren't sure of the outcome and Jean wanted them to stay away from Cheltenham for as long as possible. He didn't need the kind of stress that goes with everyone knowing and wondering if you're about to croak. Believe me, I know just how bloody awful that situation is and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. As your superior officer, he didn't have to inform you, only his immediate boss. Who thankfully kept his big mouth shut.'
Elizabeth presumed by his boss she meant the Chief Constable. 'It's over three months Anita. When can I see him?'
'I spoke to him about visitors only last week. He wants to wait until he's completely better.'
'What's exactly wrong with him?'
'I gave my word I wouldn't disclose any details. It will be up to him to explain, if or when he comes back.'
'I bloody well hope he does. Please pass on the message from me.' Elizabeth stated. 'I hate DCI Yeats and still can't understand why we ended up with him.'
Anita frowned. 'You needed a temporary replacement and Yeats was probably a sensible choice. Or maybe no other suitable candidate fancied relocating to Ch
eltenham. It's hardly a metropolis.'
'You're right, no conspiracy. Just bloody bad luck we ended up with the bastard.'
'Try and relax Elizabeth. Three major crimes in a year would tax most senior officers. Clusters of complex murders can happen anywhere, to any force. Think about all the recently reopened cold cases due to the huge advances in forensics.'
'Yeats was quick to arrest Morven. Then he buggers off?'
Anita sat down at the table, reached across and squeezed Elizabeth's hand. 'Stop worrying, you'll make yourself ill. Try and relax more and promise me you'll stop obsessing about Ted Daly.'
Elizabeth had always trusted Anita, but this time she sensed she was wasn't telling her everything. She wanted to know more but staring into Anita Fleming's eyes, she saw the warning. Don't even go there.
Elizabeth thought about her answer for a few seconds. 'I promise,' she said, hoping she could keep it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Two hours later Elizabeth left Anita's house and drove into the village. The revelation about Daly hadn't eased her mind; it had done just the opposite. Her brain was in a turmoil trying to figure out how to keep her promise to Anita yet still find Daly. Knowing him as she did, if he was on the mend, he'd be bored and keen for distractions. The chances were good he'd read the papers and already knew about the Wilson case. In fact, ill or not, it was unthinkable Daly wouldn't know about what was happening at Park Road. Whatever mysterious illness had taken him away Elizabeth had to convince herself he'd make a full recovery. She had to believe it would happen. Without Daly to point her in unorthodox directions, she'd flounder. Years of experience had taught him to look beyond the obvious. He was old school and knew the importance of dogged detective work. She quoted out loud quote one of his rules, elimination rather than speculation. Since DNA testing had landed on the planet it was easy to dismiss the old tried and tested police methods. Fingerprinting seemed to have lost its allure, as had many other police procedures essential to solving crimes. Elizabeth used to despair of the armchair sleuths who populated internet forums. Every week emails arrived at Park Road from those amateur detectives instructing CID on their latest findings. Right now, she would welcome any information from the public. On reflection she regretted keeping the mask business under wraps. If there was no progress in another week, she'd review the decision. In any case she intended to find Daly before the week was up. He'd advise her, mysterious goings on didn't sway his black and white viewpoint.
Elizabeth's head had started to hurt. She needed somewhere quiet to think, decide on her next move. A pub on the corner of the High Street attracted her attention. It was one Elizabeth had never been in before. She pulled into the car park and wondered whether to ring Patterson. Resisting the temptation to tell him about Daly was going to be nigh on impossible, but a promise was a promise. A niggling little voice repeated. If you do, you might endanger Daly. It sounded farfetched but Elizabeth felt a familiar paranoia creeping in. Why would seeing him put him in harm's way? It was a stupid notion but Anita's cool stare had told a different story.
The barman carried on polishing glasses as she approached the counter.
'I need a cup of tea,' she said.
He hung up his tea towel and gave her the once over. 'Whatever the lovely lady wants, one cuppa coming up.' He stared more intently. 'Do I know you from somewhere?' he asked.
'I doubt it,' Elizabeth sighed. Surely he could have come up with a more original chat up line. She decided to play the game. 'If you want my life story you may as well tell me your name.'
'Dean's the name. What's yours?'
'Listen Dean, I'm here for a cup of tea, not a grilling.'
'I've just remembered where I've seen you before,' he stated and Elizabeth didn't mistake the admiration in his eyes.
The last thing she needed was a hit, especially by a shaven headed and heavily tattooed beefcake but curiosity got the better of her. 'Enlighten me.'
'I saw your picture in the paper. I never forget a pretty face.'
Elizabeth tried her usual sarcasm. 'So now you know I'm a detective you don't fancy me anymore.'
'Suddenly he looked sheepish and she felt sorry for him.
'Doesn't matter to me what you are. There's a great band playing here tomorrow tonight. Come over and I'll buy you a few drinks.'
That was quick, she thought. Actually, he's polite and not bad looking. She could do worse. 'If you hurry up and get that cuppa I'll think about it. Is there a garden with a shady tree?'
He pointed to a doorway. I'll bring it out. Do you want something to eat?'
He passed her a menu and Elizabeth realised she was hungry. Anita had offered to make food but she'd temporarily lost her appetite after hearing about Daly.
She scanned the offers for a healthy option. 'Chicken salad,' she couldn't help a grin.
Dean smiled back at her. Elizabeth saw the transformation, from possibly handsome into definitely handsome. They stared at each other for a few seconds before he hurried off into the kitchen.
A silver birch provided shade. She sat under it on a wooden bench and tried to think logically. She listened to the breeze rustling the leaves and remembered last summer's scorching days and warm nights. Life had seemed promising, even before the split with David. Now she felt adrift and desperately needed a diversion from her working life.
She studied the garden. A box hedge gave it privacy and the well-stocked flowerbeds surrounded her with a musky fragrance. The adrenaline in her system began to subside. She leaned back in the padded chair and stretched out her legs. As she closed her eyes, her phone rang. Dappled sunlight obscured the caller ID but she still answered. A second later, she cursed her carelessness.
'It's Calbrain. If you want it, I've got information.'
'I'm not interested right now.' Her finger hovered over the phone ready to end the call but something stopped her.
She heard Calbrain take in a breath before answering. 'Where are you?'
Elizabeth kept quiet. She wasn't up for an argument but he'd piqued her curiosity. 'Tell me then, but be quick. I'm about to eat.'
'I heard you need all the help you can get.'
'Don't listen to gossip Calbrain. As for your info, it depends on whether the source is reliable. And, in case you've forgotten you don't have an arrangement with us anymore.'
'For fuck's sake will you just hear me out?'
'Don't swear at me. I've given up talking to pushy reporters.'
'You seem to have forgotten I quit.'
'That's what you tell people,' she replied.
'I can't do this over the phone. So if you don't want it, fine.'
'Email it to me,' Elizabeth said, hoping Dean would appear and interrupt the conversation.
'I might,' Calbrain said.
'Usually when the public have important information, they either phone or go to the police station. I suggest you do that.'
'Let's hope you won't regret this conversation,' Calbrain hissed.
Elizabeth didn't need this. She felt like yelling at him, but hung up instead.
Dean brought her food. 'Don't forget about tomorrow night.'
When he disappeared into the pub, she rang Anita and mentioned she had an admirer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Monday 27th May
As soon as she arrived home from work, Elizabeth started weeding her back garden to keep her nervousness at bay. Most people felt apprehensive before a first date, but this is ridiculous, she thought. She threw the trowel to one side and walked up and down trying to calm her nerves. Deep down she realised it wasn't just about meeting Dean. Anita was correct; she was obsessing about Daly too much.
Having a drink was out of the question so she searched the kitchen junk drawer until she found a half-empty bottle of Calms. She'd used the valerian based homeopathic medicine before,
taking it occasionally to help her sleep. She swallowed three pills with a cup of chamomile tea, another relaxing remedy and willed the combination to work. Then she rang Anita and told her she'd made a decision. She would meet up with Dean but was worried about turning up on her own. 'Will you come with me for moral support?' she asked.
Anita sounded pleased. 'I will, but won't stay long. At my age, I draw the line at playing gooseberry.'
'Please don't leave me straight away.'
'This is not like you, worrying about having a few drinks with an attractive man.'
Elizabeth felt the need to justify her decision. 'I'm only going because I'll go nuts staying home. He isn't really my type. He's a bartender.'
Anita chuckled. 'You're sounding snobbish Liz, it doesn't suit you. Dean Westlake is no ordinary bartender. He owns the place and is very well respected. The pub isn't his only business interest.'
'Why didn't you tell me this last night?'
'You didn't ask me.'
'Do you know anymore about him?'
'He's not married, never has been. No children and he's not a criminal because I checked. Will that do?'
'I suppose his appearance gave me the wrong impression.'
Anita added, 'I can't blame you for that. We, more than anyone else know appearances are very often deceptive.'
Elizabeth was immediately reassured. Whether she was truly attracted to him, or craved male company to fill the void left by Calbrain, she didn't know. The point was it wouldn't do any harm to strike up a friendship first, and see what happened.
Anita carried on. 'I'll come and have a drink. I don't know about tonight's entertainment, except I've heard Dean has an eye for local talent. Bring your overnight things in case you want to stay.'
Elizabeth rushed to change her clothes, threw a few items into a bag and arrived outside Anita's just as her friend walked out of the house. They gave each other a brief hug then set off for The Fountain, a much larger establishment than Elizabeth had first realised. Anita led her into a spacious function room complete with stage. Dean was behind the bar dressed in a white shirt and narrow black trousers.