Misery Shallows (DI Elizabeth Jewell Book 4)

by Carole Pitt

  Elizabeth hoped she didn't have to hear one more gratuitous accolade about the woman. Everyone, it seemed held her in great esteem. Well sorry, she thought, I don’t. Academic circles were renowned for intense rivalry and jealousy. Somewhere in Dalman's past, she must have made a few enemies. Was it coincidence that one of them had turned up here in Gloucestershire, and if so, why? Elizabeth couldn't decide.

  'The crime scene manager is looking for the weapon as we speak,' Daly adopted a superior tone.

  'Can you judge from Dalman's x-rays and scans what caused her injuries?' Elizabeth asked, mimicking Daly's attitude. The consultant's ego annoyed her too and she refused to pay homage, however brilliant he was.

  'Blunt instruments, as you know come in all shapes and sizes. If this attacker had struck one more blow, it could have killed her, although some people survive the most horrific head injuries. I can't name a specific weapon but as you're no doubt aware, modern laboratories have their fair share.'

  'Very true,' Daly said.

  'If you've any more questions, don’t hesitate to get in touch. I'll leave you in the capable hands of Staff Nurse Leyton to give you directions to Dr Dalman’s room.’

  The nurse was about to complain but from her adoring expression Elizabeth could see she was totally in awe of the consultant neurologist and stared longingly after him as he sauntered away.

  'Dr Dalman's in a private room,' she said petulantly.

  'What happens to the unimportant?' Daly asked.

  Nurse Leyton pursed her already thin mouth and pointed to a distant corridor. 'I'll contact Dr Dalman's personal nurse to make sure you don't prolong your visit.'

  On the way, Elizabeth listened to Daly's rant about the NHS. She tried to explain that not everyone had a bad experience. She tapped on Dalman's door. A young nurse opened it and ushered them in. 'I'll be back in ten minutes, so please be ready to leave,’ she said.

  Propped up on vast pillows Dalman sipped water through a straw. She barely acknowledged them other than pointing to the only chair.

  'We need to ask you one of two questions. We'll be brief,’ Daly stated.

  Close up, Dalman’s lips looked parched, her complexion verging on ghostly. Bandages covered three of her fingers.

  'What happened to them?' Elizabeth asked.

  Dalman's voice held none of her earlier authoritative tone, yet she showed no signs of fear. 'I was holding a scalpel when the attacker struck. I can't exactly remember. The doctor thinks I tried to defend myself but ended up slicing the tips of my fingers.'

  Mindful that Dalman's hands were essential for her work Elizabeth asked. 'Will there be any lasting effects?'

  Dalman looked away. 'I'll sue if there is?'

  'I presume by that you mean either Gloucestershire Health Care Trust or Gloucestershire Constabulary?'

  'Both,' Dalman answered in a stronger voice.

  Elizabeth asked. 'Are you right handed?'

  'I'm one of the one percent of truly ambidextrous people.'

  Elizabeth felt aghast. Could she demand recompense through the courts. Knowing the woman’s ego, she would have insured her hands. Dalman had fought back, even a woman of her slight stature and age could do serious damage and any instrument used to carve heavy clay was lethal. Dalman gave an enigmatic smile.

  Daly moved closer to the bed. 'Did you see anything?'

  'No I didn't,’ Dalman stated.

  'What about smell?’ Elizabeth asked.

  'I didn't get a sense of anything. I didn't even hear him.'

  'You say he, does that mean you're sure it was a man?’

  'I have a recollection of someone much taller me before I blacked out.’

  'How tall are you?’ Daly asked.

  'Five foot three, no more.'

  Elizabeth felt she was too vague. Dalman's job relied heavily on observation. Surely, she saw some detail, however small. 'What were you doing just before it happened?'

  'Dictating into my recorder.’

  'May we have it please? Our technicians have software to analyse background noise from audio files, heavy breathing, for instance. Sometimes this helps determine sex or age, and possibly more.’

  'I don't know where it is. When I fell to the ground, it fell with me. I asked Gemma if your crime scene people found it but they hadn't.'

  Daly headed towards the door. 'I'll get onto that now.'

  Dalman looked slightly irritated. 'I don't want to appear uncooperative but I’m extremely tired and need to sleep. I might remember more if I'm allowed to rest.'

  Nurse Leyton and her younger assistant barged past Daly almost knocking him over. 'Time's up,' she ordered.

  Elizabeth was puzzled. Dalman had claimed that the victims of heinous crimes fuelled her work ethic. She was an expert forensic scientist and yet what miniscule information she'd offered seemed begrudged. She’d expected more detail. She stood up. 'We'll leave you in peace until tomorrow.'

  Dalman sat up straighter without appearing to suffer any discomfort. 'I suggest DI Jewell that you wait until I'm discharged. Once my consultant says I can leave I will not return to the laboratory. Therefore I suggest you find someone else to identify your victims, because as from today, I will not.'

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  'Bloody woman,' Elizabeth said as they walked to the car. 'I presume you heard what she said.'

  'That’s she's packing it in, yeah,' Daly muttered. 'Listen, Patterson's left a message. When he got there that young bloke Howell told him Carstairs is on his way back.'

  'Did he say where from?'

  'Howell hasn't a clue, just he'd be back later this afternoon, so get over to Upton Woden and have a snoop before he does. Patterson's going to wait there for you. I've got other stuff to deal with.'

  Elizabeth put the key in the car. 'Are you ready to come clean about what happened up North?'

  'All I'm prepared to say is it might have been a bad judgment on my part.’

  Elizabeth noticed he was keen to get away. 'If it's relevant to the case and you don't tell us, that's also bad judgement. Now that Dalman's given her notice where do you suggest we go from here?'

  'Find out who clobbered Dalman. The world and his wife knew she was working for us. Someone didn't want her to produce a recognisable likeness of the victims so they sabotaged her work. She was stopped but not killed, so what does that tell us?'

  'He couldn’t finish her off because she fought back. Or he had to get away quickly?’

  Daly managed a half smile. 'Exactly, so the Dalman crime scene is mega important.'

  'If Andrea runs DNA tests on everything collected from the lab and we go over the culverts again we might get a break. Now the terrain has dried out who knows what's lying around.'

  Daly checked his phone. 'I've got to go. Administrative stuff to catch up on before the Chief gets back.'

  'Before I drop you off, I've got to call by the doctors to pick up an x-ray result and another prescription, if that's okay?’

  'Sorry I haven't asked how you are. I have worried about you Liz and always blamed myself for what happened to you and Patterson.'

  Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm, surprised he’d brought the subject up. She rarely thought about the Jerome case and assumed he felt the same. 'Don't, no one's sure what triggers these ailments. One theory says a virus can, but as I rarely get them, it's not likely.' She decided to confide in him. 'I did feel low after Calbrain got married. Depressed actually, but wouldn't admit I missed him.'

  Daly’s expression darkened. 'You know my feelings regarding Calbrain. My opinion hasn't changed. He wasn't good enough for you.'

  Elizabeth agreed. 'Of course he wasn't good enough. No man is.'

  Daly switched subjects. 'There's something odd about Carstairs.'

  'He doesn't strike me as the sort of person to kill someone then leave the body practically on his doorstep.' Elizabeth said.

  'What about Cirencester?' Daly said.

  ‘Okay, let’s say Carstairs killed both vi
ctims close the culvert near his cottage. As far as we know, he doesn’t own a vehicle and is hardly going to borrow one to move a body. Which leaves the only other option; he hires one and for some inexplicable reason drives his male victim all the way to Cirencester just to hide him in another culvert. There’s no way he just stumbled over one. He would have had to known in advance where it was. So why did he leave the woman behind when he could have taken her along too?’

  Daly rubbed his eyes. ‘Yeah, sounds too complicated and Carstairs strikes me as a man who doesn’t like loose ends. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d had military training.’

  ‘Now you’ve mentioned it, he does have a soldierly bearing.’

  The doctor's surgery was in a side street opposite Cheltenham Ladies College. Elizabeth backed into a resident's space. 'If the traffic warden turns up, tell him I'm collecting a blind relative.'

  Daly smiled. 'I was thinking of walking over to Monpelier and getting the bus.'

  'Don't be stupid,' Elizabeth said. 'You haven't caught a bus since you were at school.'

  Elizabeth climbed the steep steps to an elegant detached Regency house now split into premises for various medical practitioners. She pushed open the heavy door into a spacious waiting room with original stained glass windows. The sun shone through the narrowest one casting rainbow coloured beams across the parquet floor. Half a dozen patients occupied the comfortable armchairs, engrossed in magazines. While she waited for her results and new prescription, an elderly grey-haired lady shouted for help. Her leg had given way as she stood up. A receptionist rushed over, while another one went to fetch a wheelchair. It was then Elizabeth thought she recognised the girl listening to an iPod. It was only when the girl raised her head she knew for definite who she was. The young woman had looked different the last time she'd seen her. Elizabeth heard the receptionist call out. 'DI Jewell.'

  She collected her package and made another appointment. As she headed for the door, the girl looked up. Elizabeth smiled and she smiled back.

  'Hello,' Huifen said. ‘How was your dinner party?'

  Elizabeth stopped. 'It didn't happen, so I'll have to come back to your shop. I’ve forgotten all that excellent advice.

  Huifen certainly stood out. Frayed bell-bottom jeans teamed up with a psychedelic shirt. A suede-fringed waistcoat completed her outfit.

  Her words triggered an idea. If Huifen was the hippie type, she might be able to help. Elizabeth thought. One question wouldn’t hurt. 'Do you know of any traveller's encampments near here?'

  Huifen didn’t seem to mind answering. 'Not in Cheltenham, not even on the outskirts. Is this about the culvert murders?

  'You're well informed. You know Roxbury Farm then. Have you ever been there?’

  Huifen's stared at Elizabeth, her eyes clear and untroubled. 'Seen it in the paper but never been there.'

  She wished she'd resisted questioning the girl but people often crossed paths for a reason. 'I suppose you know who I am?'

  Huifen smiled. 'The receptionist didn't exactly hide your identity but I knew who you were when you came into the shop. When you have time come by and I’ll help you with more recipes. I'm in some week day mornings and Saturday's until two, then my brother takes over.'

  ‘Are you studying at the University?'

  Huifen nodded.

  Elizabeth felt touched by the girl's offer. 'I'd like that.’ She opened her bag and offered Huifen her card. ‘If you know of anyone at college who has ever visited the Roxbury Farm site, give me a ring.’

  Huifen slipped the card into a brightly woven bag. ‘I’ll do that,’ she said.

  'I bet you study either fashion or fine art,' Elizabeth said.

  Someone called out ‘Huifen.’ The girl stood up. The receptionist obviously knew her well, as they hadn't used her surname. 'It was nice meeting you again,' Huifen said. 'Don't forget to come and see me.'

  Elizabeth was curious. 'You didn't tell me what subject you study.'

  'I'm in the final year of my degree. I'm studying Criminology.'

  Daly had his eyes closed when she slid into the car. She shook his arm and he came to. 'You were quick,' he slurred.

  ‘I bumped into someone.'

  'Anyone interesting?' Daly asked.

  'A young, enigmatic Chinese girl, she’s studying at the university.'

  'Try not to use long words when I'm feeling half dead.'

  'I’d better get you back to your comfortable office where you can work on being three quarters dead. I, however, have to return to Gloucestershire's deepest, darkest depths.’

  Daly yawned. 'Make sure you don't come back empty handed.’

  Patterson was talking to Owen Howell outside the lock keeper's cottage when Elizabeth drew up.

  He heard the car and walked across the road to meet her. 'Howell's packed up and ready to leave, so we better make a start.'

  'He’s cooperated?'

  'He's a laid back guy, wasn't bothered about giving us the keys as long as we tell Carstairs we forced him to hand them over.'

  They walked back to the cottage just as Howell came out carrying a holdall. 'Only my dirty clothes if you want a look. I haven't stolen anything.' He handed Patterson the keys. 'When you're done leave them under the empty barrel at the back of the shed. Carstairs just sent me a message. He'll be here in just over an hour.'

  'I’d like you to open the bag,' Elizabeth said.

  Howell did as she asked. 'I'd cover your nose before getting too close. It stinks.'

  Elizabeth had already donned gloves. She moved the contents around until she was satisfied. 'Thank you. I've smelled worse by the way.'

  'I can tell you now, Mr Carstairs isn't a killer. He acts a bit strange at times but he's a nice bloke.' Howell said as he slung the bag over his shoulder and took off.

  Patterson shouted after him. 'Hang on a minute, which mobile home is yours?’

  ‘Ask that old bastard Gerry Blake for directions. Now there's a bloke I'd want to know more about, if I was a cop that is.'

  Elizabeth watched him vault effortlessly over the back garden fence and head across the fields. She was about to look away when she noticed Howell took the shortcut to the traveller's site.

  'See that?' Elizabeth said.

  Patterson shaded his eyes. 'Don't presume it's suspicious. He's bound to know people there. I can't believe how quickly those fields have dried up. Trouble is the surface might be firmer underfoot but the sub soil takes longer to drain.'

  Inside Elizabeth headed for the small sitting room. 'Go upstairs and check whether there's any loft space.’

  She opened the door. ‘Tony.’

  'Hang on,’ he shouted.

  'What you said about the fields drying up. Is it sufficient to unbury bits and pieces?'

  'Are you asking if there’s a chance of finding more evidence. I’d say it’s worth another look.’

  Elizabeth felt a moment's excitement. 'Ring Eldridge and tell him to gather up a few uniforms and do another search between here and the traveller's site. The weather’s supposed to be changeable over the next couple of days. Best we do it before it rains again.’

  The cottage was small but tastefully decorated. Carstairs had acquired a few unusual pieces of furniture; from the intricate carvings, they looked vaguely Middle Eastern. Well- stocked bookshelves sat on either side of the fireplace. High on a top shelf she spotted what looked like old photograph albums. In order to reach them she dragged an elegant dining chair over hoping it would withstand her weight. It did and she randomly pulled out one of the albums. Opening it, she could see by the clothes that it was recent. Carstairs on holiday, she recognised the Lake District and Northumberland. He obviously had a passion for castles.

  She carefully replaced the album and ran her finger along the edge of the shelf, not a speck of dust anywhere. To her left, the other albums appeared older, she chose one and as she clambered off the chair almost caught her foot in a fringe attached to an old rug. She gave the rug a closer look. It l
ooked Turkish. Upstairs she could hear Patterson going through cupboards and drawers. She hoped he’d managed to track Eldridge down.

  Elizabeth sat on a dark green leather sofa and opened the album. A title page stated, all taken overseas. Carstairs looked young, in his late twenties or early thirties and dressed in uniform. She noted his striking good looks. In those days, he'd have attracted plenty of women. She turned the pages careful not to miss anything. On the final page, one picture stood out, a very beautiful young woman holding Carstairs’s hand. From the fashions, Elizabeth estimated the mid fifties. None of the photos had descriptions or any written information, either on the back or in the album.

  Patterson thumped down the stairs. 'No loft space and nothing suspicious unless owning a telescope and binoculars is against the law. He's a tidy man who has few clothes or other assorted belongings. No clutter or junk anywhere, a few meds in the bathroom cabinet, no money stashed under the floorboards. From the books on the bedside cabinet he's interested in astrology, astronomy and fishing.'

  Elizabeth looked up surprised. 'I didn't hear you yanking up floorboards.'

  'Didn't have to, most of them are loose. All I had to do was lift and shine. Those cheap LED torches from Wilkos get into the tiniest spaces.’

  Elizabeth held up the album. 'These are interesting.'

  Patterson flicked through the pages. 'Looks like a military police uniform, which would account for his obsessive tidiness.'

  'No indication where they were taken, so we don't know where he served.'

  'I'll sort that when we get back. It's pointless asking the locals, no one socialised with him so they won't know his background.'

  'He'll see it's gone but I'm going to risk taking it.'

  Patterson reached up and rearranged the shelf to make it appear undisturbed.

  'That won't fool him for long,’ Elizabeth said.

  'It'll have to do,' he dangled the keys. 'Let's lock up then check out the shed.'

  Before they left, Elizabeth cast her eye over the rooms. Apart from a slight gap, left by the missing album there was no indication anyone had searched the place. They spent ten minutes in the shed with no result. While Patterson secured the cottage and hid the keys, she stood at the end of the garden. In the distance, the traveller's site looked tranquil. Elizabeth wondered if Carstair’s had seen active service somewhere in the Far East. Did he ever kill an enemy? Had he ever stood in this same spot, plotted to kill Jez Moore and hoped to get away with it?