by Carole Pitt
'What time did you get back?'
Morven turned to McAllister. 'We didn't leave until nine, got back about eleven. We switched on the television as soon as we came indoors. The news had just started.'
'Where's the vehicle?'
'The driveway curves around to the rear of the property. We leave it there so no one can see it from the front,' Morven answered.
'I'd like the keys,' Patterson said. Morven opened a drawer in an antique writing desk and handed them over. 'You're making another mistake. Neither John nor I had anything to do with this poor girl's death. Targeting me will only make you look more foolish.'
Patterson was about to suggest to Morven that he contact Teresa Lane, when his phone beeped. 'Excuse me,' he said.
The two men remained silent while Patterson listened to Eldridge. Les Harper was refusing to cooperate. Eldridge wanted further instructions.
'No point in staying then. He's just lost his daughter so leave it for his brief to organise, that's what they get paid for. But do that right now. Liz will want to start interviewing in the morning.'
Patterson ended the call then turned back to Morven. 'I'd prefer it if you showed me the vehicle you used tonight.'
McAllister refilled his glass. Patterson glanced over and noticed his pallor. He looked ill. The last thing Patterson needed was a sick man on his hands. 'Mr McAllister, I suggest you make that your last whisky.'
McAllister stood up and swayed slightly. 'It's Professor if you don't mind. You have falsely accused a Canadian citizen and I have influential friends here in the UK. I intend to call in a few favours and ask for their help.'
'That's entirely your prerogative sir,' Patterson followed Morven to the rear entrance.
A black BMW sat on the hard standing. Patterson ran his hand across the bonnet.
Morven leaned against a wall, his manner sarcastic. 'Trying to figure out what time I switched off the engine? I've admitted to driving the car, isn't that enough?'
The bonnet felt too hot. Patterson checked the time. It was quarter to two in the morning. There was no way they got back as early as eleven pm. More like just before he turned up. Patterson was shocked his suspicions weren't unfounded. 'A young girl died tonight, some bastard killed her. 'My job is to find out who that person is.'
He removed an LED pen torch from his pocket, bent down and sniffed the front grill; the bitter smell of oil drifted from the engine and caught the back of his throat. Then he lifted the bonnet and inspected underneath. Engines weren't his forte but he knew enough to get by. Over two and a half hours since they got back yet the engine didn't back up their story. The only other explanation was they'd gone out again. He shone the torch on the oil reservoir; the cap was loose and he wondered why. He lifted it off and then replaced it. The engine might have overheated, could that be the reason? Patterson unlocked the driver's door and felt a blast of warmth. He moved the beam over the dashboard and noticed the heating controls were in the on position. Why heat the inside of a vehicle on a warm May night.
He turned to Morven. 'It's pointless lying to me. Either you came home later or you went out again. What's it to be?'
Morven's expression was impassive. 'We came back later than I said.'
'I could arrest you right now for attempting to pervert the course of justice. However, I suggest you ring your solicitor and have her meet us at Park Road in an hour.'
'We stayed in Oxford and I can prove it,' Morven stated.
Patterson knew to be careful. Accusing the Canadian without any probable cause would backfire on him.
'You still have to come back with me and make a statement. So where were you?'
He watched Morven deliberating how to tell him. 'In a brothel on the outskirts of Oxford,' he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tuesday May 28th 6.30 am
Anita was up and dressed when Elizabeth came downstairs. She hadn't intended to sleep at all but the thought of a prowler outside had disturbed her. Anita seemed subdued while she prepared breakfast. 'You're quiet this morning,' she said.
'I slept badly,' Anita said as she took a carton of orange juice from the fridge.
'I'm sorry about last night. You didn't need the extra hassle from me.'
Anita stopped stirring the eggs and looked up. 'I heard the news on the radio. What a terrible tragedy. Is the Canadian a suspect?'
'Patterson just sent me a text. He's requested extra time but his lawyer's objecting. Morven and McAllister insist they were elsewhere so we'll have to wait until their alibis are checked out.'
'If it does then he couldn't killed the girl?'
Elizabeth helped herself to the scrambled eggs. 'I honestly don't know. My brain doesn't want to function this morning. This whole business is weird.'
'Eat up, it will help the hangover.'
Elizabeth needed Anita to explain last night's panic. 'You made light of last night, but you were definitely scared. What happened?'
Anita stared at her. 'I sensed Patterson needed to speak to you urgently. I was proved right. No other reason.'
'Dean noticed. Talk to him if you don't believe me?'
'Wait until you're my age and try sprinting. I'm not fit anymore, as you well know.'
Elizabeth nodded feeling guilty, but not convinced. Something about Anita's demeanour suggested she had been frightened but was never going to admit it. Had someone jumped out at her? Dean had made a point of the low crime statistics in the village but teenagers especially could wreak havoc after a few drinks. They didn't care how their behaviour affected older people. Anita wasn't blasé and years of training don't vanish overnight. She decided not to broach the subject again. 'You should have stayed in bed.'
'I thought I'd drive you to work then go shopping in town. I could do with some fresh air.'
'You don't have to. Once I've had a shower and a couple of headache pills I'll be fine.'
Anita opened a cupboard and took out a small bottle. 'I'll feel happier if I do. You'll still be over the limit. Here, these are strong, so break one in half.'
Twenty minutes later Elizabeth gazed out of the window as Anita drove through the country lanes then onto the motorway. The local radio station played quietly until the news started. Anita turned up the volume in time to hear the breaking story.
The newsreader's voice was typically sombre. 'Late last night a young woman, believed to be a pupil from Grasmere Academy, was found dead in the school grounds. Police aren't releasing any more details for now.'
Anita turned the radio off. 'Why didn't you wake me up and tell me why Patterson rang?'
'There was no point and Patterson said he could handle it.'
Anita turned off the motorway. 'This is dreadful for all the parents. I hope they close down the school, at least for a few days until everyone gets over the shock.'
'I can't see that happening. The kids have GCSE exams coming up. What worries me is alarmist headlines. You know what the media's like. They'll have Cheltenham in the midst of a serial killer crisis.'
'I still can't believe Morven got bail,' Anita said.
'Come on Anita. He's never going to admit to Wilson's murder.'
Anita pulled up outside Park Road and switched off the engine. 'I wish I could help you.'
'Morven's hard to read, but I guess it's the cultural thing. That and the fact he's supposed to be clairvoyant. This is why I need Daly, he'd be my voice of reason. I'm not as logical or plodding. You know me well Anita; I go by my instincts too much.'
'There's nothing wrong with that as long as it's backed up by sensible procedure.'
'Right now I'm neither sensible nor logical. Why don't you come in? Yeats isn't aaround, he's gone to Belfast.'
Anita turned to face Elizabeth a strange look on her face. 'When is he due back?'
'Not sure. I wouldn't give a toss if
he stayed there. Why the sudden interest in him?'
'No reason apart from it's good to see you take charge.'
'Promise you'll keep me updated on Daly's progress,' Elizabeth pleaded.
'I will if you promise to keep this to yourself. Don't even tell Patterson. I'll know if you do.'
Elizabeth kissed Anita on the cheek and got out of the car. The time was coming up to seven forty and she hoped Patterson had everyone's day mapped out. Her headache had eased and she checked her bag for the two extra painkillers. It was going to be another endless day and she'd probably need them.
The incident room was in chaos. Patterson seemed to be fending off questions from everyone, added to that Morven and McAllister were still downstairs with their lawyers. Elizabeth dreaded facing them. With no other senior CID officer on the premises, they'd have her guts. They'd also lay the blame of any disorganisation at her feet.
Patterson looked exhausted. 'No sleep?' Elizabeth asked him.
'I could do with a couple of hours, but I think I'm too wired.'
'Go home. Could you get me a coffee before you disappear?'
Patterson was half-dead and she was asking him to wait on her. Elizabeth felt ashamed. ‘No hurry,' she added.
Patterson looked disgruntled and she didn't blame him, but she had a valid reason for not going to the machine. She didn't want to bump into Morven's lawyers. By now, any complaints they had dreamt up would be lengthy and serious.
As soon as she walked into the noisy briefing room Katie Gardiner approached her. 'We have a problem that needs sorting,' she said. 'The floral tributes are piling up outside the school and it's causing an obstruction. We need to find another area where people can leave stuff. Do you want me to deal with it?'
'Get a couple of uniforms to help. What about the media? Is there a big turn out?'
'I've heard they're circling. Crosbie's in his element rubbing shoulders with the elite. Are you okay, you look really pale?'
'It's self-inflicted. I always manage to pick the wrong time to go drinking. I shouldn't have given in so easily when Tony said he could manage, I agreed.'
Katie interrupted. 'He's been under your wing for a long time. He needed a chance to prove himself.'
Elizabeth knew she was right. If he was serious about his career he needed a lot more experience. The sound of too many high pitched conversations wasn't going to help her head.
Someone had left an old walking stick propped up in a corner, probably nicked from the lost property cupboard in reception. She whacked it three times on the nearest desk and shouted. 'Everybody shut up and listen.'
Chairs scraped across the floor and then silence.
'Darren, find Eldridge for me and don't take all day. Right you lot, I need to know who's been assigned to what.'
Five minutes later Elizabeth had a clearer picture. She had to admit that Patterson had done a good job. Apart from two new recruits, the rest of them knew exactly what they were doing. She made a few adjustments and dismissed everyone. No sooner had the room emptied, when Eldridge walked in.
'You wanted to see me?'
'Where've you been?'
'To see Dr Oakley, remember. She's starting the girl's post mortem at ten.'
'Did she give you any reports?'
'She's going to email them. Okay if I have a break?'
'Did anyone catch up with Mortimer and Bellamy?'
'In the Alcaisdesa club,' he said and smirked.
'It's taken long enough.'
'That was supposed to be Patterson's responsibility. I don't ever hear him getting a bollicking.'
Elizabeth had an overwhelming urge to slap Eldridge. His behaviour often veered from rude petulance to accommodating obedience. This morning he'd added resentment to the list.
'You don't look particularly tired. I bet while Patterson was busy holding everything together you managed a crafty power nap. Think yourself lucky I'm not asking you to work another nightshift.'
'What's this about an all nighter?' Patterson asked as he rushed through the door.
'I thought you'd gone home.' Elizabeth said and patted him on the arm. 'I forgot to say a big thank you. You did a great job.'
Patterson glanced at Eldridge. 'I overheard what he said about me shirking. So I've decided to go with him.'
Eldridge seemed reluctant to move his feet. 'What about the post mortem?'
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Eldridge. 'None of us have the time. You're keeping me waiting and I'm keeping Morven's lawyers waiting. Before you go I want you to do something.'
Her bag was under the desk. She knelt down, retrieved her phone and scrolled through the numbers. 'While Patterson's driving I want you to ring this number. It's Yeats's old station in Belfast.'
He picked up a pen and scribbled the number on the back of his hand. 'What do I have to say?'
'Ask to speak to Yeats personally and find out when he's due back. If he's not there keep trying until you get hold of him or somebody who knows what's going on.'
After they left Elizabeth logged on to her email. Jessica's report was long and technical. She skimmed through it and couldn't quite digest its implications. What she did glean was the small paint sample was significant. Jessica had suggested she ring her later on and she'd explain in more detail. Suddenly Elizabeth felt overwhelmed. Dean had left her a text message asking to see her tomorrow night. Calbrain had also sent one reminding her about the information he wanted to pass on. She already had a busy schedule trying to make up for lost time. On top of that she had Jade Harper's boyfriend Duncan Mortimer and his mate Bellamy to look forward to. But right now, Morven and his legal team took precedence over everything else.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Teresa Lane stood up when Elizabeth entered the interview room. An older man struggled to his feet and Lane introduced him as her assistant, Toby Markham. She was surprised; usually paralegals were younger. Elizabeth turned her attention to Jacob Morven and his friend Professor McAllister. She noted their weary resignation and underlying hostility.
'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.'
No one spoke. She felt uncomfortable although being on her own had advantages. She opened the file and reread Patterson's initial report. She glossed over his observations about the vehicle's overheated engine. Her knowledge of car engines was limited, but she assumed there was any number of reasons why they retained heat. Call it intuition or what, without his attention to detail, Morven wouldn't have confessed to visiting a brothel.’
Morven's hire car was still being searched for traces of a body. The crime scene coordinator had requested a specialist dog, trained to detect cadaver smell. The animal had an impressive reputation, so if Morven had transported a deceased Jade Harper, they would soon know.
Elizabeth looked up. 'I'm almost finished,' she told them.
The motive with the most credibility had to be if Jade had witnessed Morven killing Wilson. Another possibility occurred to her. What if Morven had taken the girl's attentions seriously and persuaded her back to his hotel? Then events had spiralled out of control. It wouldn't be the first time an adult man had attempted to seduce a teenage girl and ended up facing a rape charge. If she had any criticisms of Patterson, he should have mounted a bigger search for Duncan Mortimer and run both his and Morven's interviews simultaneously.
She checked the time and spoke to Lane. 'Let's start.'
'You do realise we've been here long enough,' Teresa Lane accused.
Elizabeth couldn't feel sorry for any of them. Lawyers were notoriously impatient on police premises. She often wondered why, considering how much they charged their clients. It was their job to represent their interests, not worry about how long it took.
'Elizabeth held up the report and spoke directly to Lane. 'This is a transcript of Sergeant Patterson's earlier interview with your clie
nts.
McAllister looked pale and sounded as if he was hyperventilating. 'I'm not one of her clients.'
'I apologise for presuming. However, Professor McAllister I'd strongly advise you to consider legal representation.'
McAllister leaned across the table, his body language threatening. People addicted to power often believed they were above the law. The Professor was a typical example, an authoritative figure that enjoyed his social standing in Canada. A man, who with the snap of his fingers could summon the best help should he need it.
'Why, when I'm not a suspect?' he argued. ‘We could have flatly refused to come here.'
Teresa Lane intervened. 'I believe DI Jewell means you could face an accessory charge if you had prior knowledge of a crime already committed or, that one was going to be. However if you had no knowledge and can prove it you're in the clear.'
Morven turned to McAllister, his expression sombre. 'I begged you not to get involved John. DI Jewell's right, you should return home. There's nothing more you can do to help me.'
Toby Markham spoke for the first time. 'Professor McAllister forgot to give your sergeant the till receipt from the supermarket.'
Elizabeth felt a wave of tiredness wash over her. Had Patterson forgotten to ask for the obvious? She dreaded tackling him about such a clear mistake. She activated the tape recorder. 'I'd like you to verify everything you told Sergeant Patterson, including the fact you omitted to hand over crucial evidence.
Morven ran through the story again. Elizabeth then asked to see the bankcard used to pay the bill.
'I paid cash,' Morven admitted.
Elizabeth knew the receipt was useless unless the itemised bill corresponded with the contents of Morven's cupboards or fridge. 'Did you buy many items?'
'No more than a dozen.'
'I'd like to have the receipt right now,' Elizabeth stated.
McAllister surprised her by handing over the crumpled pieces of paper. She noted the logo. They'd shopped at a Morrison's store on the outskirts of Oxford.