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

by Carole Pitt

  'I'm sorry Liz but that's not a reason to mess us about.'

  'I know. But there's another reason, and that's the one I've got to figure out.'

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  May 30th 8am.

  Even after the previous evenings truce, tempers had flared the minute everyone assembled in the briefing room.

  Last night she'd spent two hours bringing together all the salient facts. Satisfied she hadn't overlooked anything she opened a bottle of Merlot. After two large glasses, she'd phoned Calbrain. 'You wanted to pass on information. I've been busy, hence the delay in getting back to you.'

  'It could well be out of date by now,' he replied, sounding uncharacteristically bad tempered.

  'Whatever, I don't want to see a newspaper report saying I've dismissed an important clue.'

  'That wouldn't help your reputation,' he said with a hint of sarcasm.

  'Calbrain, just give me the story. I haven't got all night.'

  'It's about Giles Beresford. Head teacher at Grasmere. '

  'What about him?'

  'How well do you know Will Crosbie?' Calbrain asked.

  'I try to steer clear of him. He's a persistent little creep. How come you know him?'

  'In case you'd forgotten I still investigate insurance fraud. I've seen him in court a few times.'

  'According to him, Beresford's been seen with other women. You would think the man would have more sense than conduct his affairs in public places. Mrs Beresford won't withstand the scandal if this gets out.'

  'Good God everyone's at it, Wilson drinking with Jade Harper, and now Beresford.'

  'That's not all. Will Crosbie told me he heard a rumour that Wilson was blackmailing Beresford, threatening to tell his wife about his extra marital activities. Beresford's got a lot to lose if she divorces him.'

  'Of course he has, but if this is true, how did Crosbie find out Wilson was into blackmail? Did he give you a name?'

  'He's admitted badgering some of the teachers and other staff. He also confessed to paying for information, but he refused to name his source.'

  'I bet he did, that's because he's making this shit up to get attention. If this is all you've got Calbrain, I'm sorry but I'm not convinced.'

  'Hear me out for a minute. Let's say it's true and Wilson was up to no good. Beresford waits for the right moment to try and deal with Wilson's threats. Call it coincidence, but it happens to be the day Morven turns up, which is good, as there's plenty of distractions. He tries to reason with Wilson, but things get out of hand.'

  Elizabeth thought for a moment. Jessica had established that the only fingerprints found on the murder weapon were Morven's and Wilson's. The only reason Wilson left his was because he'd tried pulling the tool from his chest. When Morven had showed the pupils the carving tool he'd told them not to touch it, and before going to lunch, he must have left it unattended in the lecture hall. Anyone could have taken it, including Beresford, except he insisted he was elsewhere.

  'Crosbie should have come to me with this, not you.'

  'He wants a major scoop to practice his bargaining skills. There's only one reason he didn't, he knew damn well I'd pass it on to you. Now he'll think you owe him,' Calbrain said.

  'You'd better tell him he's mistaken, playing head games with me won't wash. Is he hoping to publish the Beresford scandal?'

  'No chance, no one will, not even the nationals. No, what Crosbie's after is the Jade Harper story,' Calbrain said.

  'I can see why the press will be gagged. She's not just any government minister is she? Aren't Jane Beresford's family a powerful lot?'

  'They are, the super injunctions will be flying about.'

  While they were on the topic of journalism, Elizabeth decided to broach Katie Gardiner's revelation. 'One of my officers tells me there's a big story brewing about the demise of the RUC. Do you know anything about it?'

  'Now why would you be interested in that?' Calbrain asked.

  'Don't you think as a police officer it's my duty to be? That particular force has undergone a lot of changes over the last couple of decades. We're learning all the time how to clean up our act. I suppose it will be another police corruption exposé.'

  'You're probably right. I haven't heard anything through the usual channels, but if I do I'll let you know.'

  Elizabeth suddenly felt tired and didn't want to prolong the conversation. 'I'm off to bed now but thanks for keeping the Beresford thing under wraps.'

  'I won't ever harm your investigations Elizabeth. I owe you that much. Can I buy you a drink sometime?' Calbrain asked.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. 'I'm seeing someone at the moment but it's nice of you to offer.'

  She heard Calbrain's low whistle. 'I thought you'd had enough of relationships.'

  'I changed my mind,' she said, ended the call and went upstairs to be

  * * *

  The vague hangover had sharpened her wits. It was seven fifty-five am and the turnout was encouraging.

  Elizabeth took up her position next to the recently updated whiteboard. 'Okay. I want someone in the CCTV suite going over the footage again. The other night I walked through Cresswell woods around nine thirty just as it was getting dark. If you've ever been there, you'll know how creepy it is. From Grasmere's playing fields, it takes twenty minutes to get to the main road. A woman was just going in with her dog as I came out so I stopped her and asked if a lot of dog walkers use the woods. According to her, they do, and the fields further up Hart Lane. But she did tell me something interesting. Since the nights have warmed up, groups of teenagers have started to congregate there. Several walkers had witnessed them acting out some fantasy role-playing game and drinking. One Saturday night she had a friend staying and they took the dog out much later. Normally she wouldn't contemplate going in the woods after ten pm, but as her friend was with her, she felt safe. They came across, what she termed as an orgy, and someone was videoing the proceedings. I asked her if she'd reported this to the police, to which she answered no.'

  'Anyone know about this?' Patterson asked.

  Katie Gardiner replied. 'I've heard rumours but unless things get out of hand or someone complains, uniforms won't act.'

  'Okay, here's my theory. A hundred yards further along from the entrance to the woods, there's a parking area where dog walkers can park their vehicles. It's very secluded. Harper's killer could have parked there, which means we were wrong to focus on CCTV for Grasmere Road. I believe Jade Harper was forced into a car, driven to this secluded lay by. Her killer then walked her through the woods to Grasmere's playing fields. The question is, did this person intend to kill Harper, or just frighten her? The area where she was found bore some similarities to the Wilson crime scene. A scuffle took place and there were drag marks indicating the body was moved closer to the hedge.'

  Elizabeth waited for a response.

  'Sounds good,' Eldridge said.

  'Anyone else?' she asked.

  'We need to identify the vehicle used in the abduction,' Eldridge said.

  'Obviously,' Elizabeth's sarcastic tone received subdued laughter.

  'If there are these similarities,' Katie Gardiner said, 'What happens if Morven's alibi checks out?'

  'What I'm saying is, the same person killed both Wilson and Harper. What I'm not saying yet, is who? I'm still waiting for confirmation from the CCTV footage; it seems to be taking ages.'

  Patterson stood up. 'If Morven's alibi stands up then we have a murderer on the loose.'

  'Who might already have his sights on another victim,' Eldridge added.

  Heavy sighs echoed around the room and Elizabeth reached for a folder. 'Try not to despair, Dr Oakley's come up with another potential piece of evidence. Amongst the crime scene debris she discovered a miniscule paint chip. Because it wasn't gooey or flaky like the other samples, she quest
ioned where it had come from. The analysis showed it was from a vehicle. We don't normally pick up bits of car paint on our shoes or clothes unless we're driving a rust bucket or work in a garage. This chip originated from a Peugeot 208 with white pearlescent paint.' She passed around photocopies from a Peugeot brochure. Gardiner, I want you to get onto the DVLA and request the vehicle registration documents for all of the Grasmere staff. You all know how accurate this technology is. What we need is someone with a connection to Grasmere to own one.'

  Eldridge didn't sound convinced. 'That's a big wish. Shouldn't we have a wider focus?'

  Thank you again Eldridge for your amazing perception, but we have to start somewhere.'

  Elizabeth continued. 'Gibbs and Turner, you'll be responsible for contacting these people. Find out exactly where they were during the time lines for Wilson and Harper's murders. Staying with Harper, we still don't know who was the last person to see her alive. Eldridge and Gardiner, uniforms have finally caught up with Duncan Mortimer and his mate. Keep them here until Patterson and I get back. Now to Wilson's mask. I'd like a volunteer to log any thefts of First Nation artifacts anywhere in the UK. Use the police database first, and then use your imagination. Hang on I nearly forgot something. We need any CCTV coverage of the northern end of Cresswell Street.'

  Elizabeth went on to tell them the information she'd received concerning Beresford although she didn't mention the source. 'Please be aware these are unsubstantiated allegations and do not repeat them. Patterson and I are off now to pay Giles Beresford a visit to find out if they're true.'

  Elizabeth went off to the ladies to freshen up. She was about to meet up with Patterson when her mobile rang. She ignored it until Patterson pulled out of the car park. Then she checked the number.

  It was Teresa Lane's mobile. Elizabeth wondered what she wanted, but didn't have the time or the inclination to return the call. Speaking to Giles Beresford was far more important.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  It was eight miles to the ancient Saxon town of Winchcombe. Elizabeth sat quietly and gazed out of the window. Patterson drove past Sudeley Castle where its most famous resident is entombed, Queen Catherine Powell, the sixth wife of Henry the eighth.

  Beresford and his wife lived in a Cotswold stone mansion dating back to the seventeenth century. Elizabeth had read in a magazine that Mrs Beresford had inherited a fortune from her grandfather, who was also a politician. Elizabeth got out of the car and admired the property. If Crosbie's gossip was true, why would Giles Beresford risk his luxury lifestyle for sex with other women? Why not do what Morven and McAllister did and pay for it. Even a head teacher's salary would cover such encounters.

  Patterson had phoned the school to see if Beresford was staying late. The deputy informed him that he'd left the premises shortly after the end of lessons. Rather than make an appointment they'd opted for the surprise element. Elizabeth knew it would take time for the DVLA to produce all the relevant names and addresses. They'd identified the make and model and she intended to confront Beresford with this new line of enquiry giving him the opportunity to clear himself of any involvement. It wasn't unknown for teachers to have affairs with their students and with Jade Harper's reputation, that scenario was also a possibility.

  Patterson banged on the door and they heard a dog bark, then a woman's voice, shouting. They waited a couple of minutes before she opened up. She was attractive rather than beautiful, and Elizabeth immediately thought she must be several years older than her husband. She looked at them wide eyed. 'I'm sorry but the dog jumps up at strangers so I lock him in the dining room.'

  She ushered them into a large square hall. In the centre stood a magnificent dining table surrounded by ten chairs. The walls were lined with carefully arranged bookshelves and a wrought iron chandelier complete with fake candles hung from the ceiling. Elizabeth felt as if she'd been transported into the famous board game and was playing the part of Miss Scarlett. Mrs Beresford didn't offer any drinks but suggested they sit at the table. It was highly polished, very dark oak pitted from centuries of use. Elizabeth glanced down at the intricate cross stitch seat covers and pictured ladies in waiting from the Tudor era bent over their embroidery. Everything shone, the brass, the silver, the picture frames, nothing was out of place.

  Elizabeth introduced herself and Patterson. 'We need to speak to your husband about Keith Wilson's murder.'

  Mrs Beresford's smile vanished, 'My husband's already been interviewed and is unlikely to be of any further help.'

  'I'm sure you realise obstructing a police investigation can be construed as perverting the course of justice. You have a very responsible job with the government, I suggest you cooperate.'

  Jane Beresford's mouth pursed with anger. 'He's busy in the garden. Shall we go out or shall I fetch him?'

  'We'd prefer to talk to him privately,' Patterson said.

  Jane Beresford didn't appear to like that idea either. Elizabeth assumed she was used to having her own way.

  'We've nothing to hide from each other. This is a blatant intrusion of our privacy. I don't honestly see how you could possibly imagine either of us had anything to do with the deaths of these two people.'

  Referring to the victims as she did made Elizabeth wonder if Mrs Beresford suffered from a type of dissociative disorder, or even a form of narcissism. Her reluctance to recognise Wilson and Harper by name suggested she preferred a state of denial rather than face any unpleasantness. Or was she just a typical narcissist, lacking empathy? Either way Elizabeth found her attitude interesting, as prolonged detachment from reality resulted in amnesiac episodes.

  A thought crossed her mind. Was this pillar of society capable of murdering two people? Now she'd met her Elizabeth changed her mind. It would be better if she stayed. Observing how husband and wife interacted might reveal other aspects of their relationship.

  'If you prefer, we can always go back to Park Road.'

  Jane Beresford didn't reply but headed through an ornately carved arch into a dark passageway. Elizabeth and Patterson followed until they reached the entrance to a reproduction Victorian style conservatory.

  Elizabeth could never understand why planning permission varied so much. How come the owners of a grade two listed building had been given permission to build what amounted to a monstrous extension? She'd had to beg the council to erect a tiny garden shed, but a cabinet minister's job obviously guaranteed exemption from building regulations.

  The garden was huge and as they stepped onto a paved patio Elizabeth spotted Beresford bending over a rose bush. He put down secateurs and walked towards them.

  'Shall we sit down?' Beresford said, and pointed to the ironwork patio furniture.

  Jane Beresford's face was twisted with anger. 'I don't care if you drag me to your police station, I refuse to be humiliated,' she said.

  Elizabeth waited until she was back in the house. They heard a door slam inside.

  'She's upset,' Beresford said.

  'It's not surprising if she's aware of the gossip. This is about your private life. Several witnesses claim to have seen you with other women.'

  Beresford avoided her gaze. 'Jane already knows,' Beresford stated.

  Patterson used his confidential tone. 'A man in your position is a prime target for blackmail. Wilson had lost the job he'd coveted to Jackie Kilmartin, making him extremely upset. Maybe he wanted revenge and didn't care who was in his sights, as long as he felt better. Like threatening to tell your wife what you were up to. From our point of view it would explain why he bragged about coming into money,' Patterson said.

  'Wilson wasn't blackmailing me. If he'd tried I would have owned up. Our marriage has been rocky for a while. I've had affairs with several women. Rather than get divorced, she pretends it isn't happening.'

  'I gather your alibi for the nights in question is one of your lady friends?' Elizabeth asked.
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br />   'Jane was away abroad, and yes I took the opportunity to make the most of it.'

  Patterson stood up. 'We need her name, any phone numbers and address.'

  Beresford's expression was hard to read. 'I didn't abduct Jade and move her dead body in my car, if that's what you're hinting at. I told Inspector Yeats it was having an MOT test.'

  'The trouble is,' Patterson continued, 'I asked your deputy when I rang up earlier today, the make and model of your car. She gave us the same details you gave to DI Yeats. Unfortunately, this vehicle you claimed was having its MOT is not the one currently registered to you.'

  For the first time, Beresford seemed alarmed. 'It went to the garage to be tested. When I went back to collect it they told me there were a few problems and gave me an estimate. The cost of the repairs was stupid money, so I queried it. The mechanic said I'd be better off spending it on a newer car and I agreed with him. We all know when a car is not worth fixing, so what do you do? You get a new one. The mechanic offered me cash there and then, so I took it.'

  To Elizabeth's ears, it sounded like a scam. Lie to the gullible customer and get the car at rock bottom price. 'So what happened to it?'

  'I assume he's sold it by now.'

  'He'll confirm what you've just told us?' Patterson said.

  'Of course he will.'

  'Do you know who took it off his hands?'

  'I've no idea. These young mechanics always have mates on the lookout for a cheap vehicle. I gave him the registration documents to sort out. The next day I went straight to the BMW dealership and bought another car, which I presume isn't the model you're after.'

  'Nor is the one you've just sold,' Patterson said. 'Do any of your children drive?'

  'The two youngest ones aren't old enough. Jane has an older daughter who does, but she's at university and hasn't got a car at the moment.'

  'That would be your stepdaughter then?' Patterson said.

  Elizabeth could see Beresford was struggling to stay calm. He raised his voice. 'Correct.'