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

by Carole Pitt

  The Cedar Face

  By

  Carole Pitt

  The Cedar Face

  Carole Pitt

  Copyright 2010 by Carole Pitt

  Smashwords Edition

  This book is dedicated to Iain Charles Pitt

  1949-2013

  Many thanks to Amy Pitt and Jenny blood for all their help.

  Thank you to Dhansolo Designs for the cover

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER-FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  PROLOGUE

  Three hundred years ago.

  Nass Valley.

  Northwestern British Columbia. Canada.

  The Wolf Chief bent over and looked closer. His vision had become noticeably weaker and he knew when it came to harvesting the Sockeye he would be blind.

  The piece was almost complete; one more day should see it done. Then he would don his regalia and call everyone to witness the ceremony. Afterwards he would explain gently to the villagers. Tell them of his faltering skills and the light fading from his eyes. How, from now on he would spend his time teaching the children. Make sure they learned the ways to pass on to their own children and grandchildren. He would explain why they needed more discipline and how he hoped to persuade them from taunting the animals. It was imperative they heeded his warnings, upsetting the balance would bring reprisal, but not all would listen. Some who had reached the brink of adulthood often laughed at his old ways. He understood that every new generation had the right to question their elders, that new ideas and progress were instrumental in maintaining stability. What he would never accept was mans cruelty to man and his fellow creatures.

  Once the leaves started to flourish again and the days grew warmer, the children would be his new eyes, helping him through the darkness. Suddenly he heard their voices; he stood up and listened, the wind had strengthened from the north. Turning his head, he sensed they were near the river, and from their high-pitched shrieks, playing games. The children were free spirits and allowed to roam. Sometimes though, he felt they had too much freedom. His people worked hard and supervising the children was not always possible. Parents had little time to chastise, which meant childish unruliness often led to erratic behaviour.

  Leaning into the wind, he heard their voices echoing. Then an intermittent cry, someone was distressed, a young girl. Straightening up, he made his way to the river. His pace was slow and it took a while. When he came to the river's edge, he felt fearful. Many of the children had waded too far and the fast moving water was already reaching their shoulders. He shouted to them and they looked up, one held up a salmon, others were throwing the fish around as they would a toy. He could see the salmon were desperate to escape, and then an older child deliberately killed one with a wooden spike. This game of torturing these precious fish must cease. He had warned them before and the younger ones had given their promise to desist. Now they had broken that promise. He shouted again, told them to return to the riverbank, which they did, but carried on tormenting the frightened creatures.

  On weary legs, he turned to walk away and at that very moment, the noise came. The sound in his ears was one he had never heard before, but he knew what it meant. In the distance, his eyes made out a vague, dark shape moving closer. For a brief moment he was deceived and mistook it for a rain cloud, but the smell rising to meet his senses told him no rain would fall.

  Then he forgot about the children and the salmon. Before disaster struck, he must rescue his work and find someone to take it to safety. The old Wolf Chief gained strength in his legs and more light into his eyes. Panic confronted him when he came to the village, he watched people running everywhere, gathering possessions as they headed away from the dense black cloud and the rumbling, thunderous noise. Others seemed unsure how to escape, running wildly in the wrong direction. He shouted to them to stop but no one listened. Desperation hung in the toxic air and time would not stand still to alter the outcome. Returning to his dwelling, he retrieved the mask. He turned it over in his hands wishing he could add the final touches. There was so little of his life left and he must find someone to keep it safe.

  He began to chant, hoping to attract attention. A young man approached him and asked if he could help. The Wolf Chief struggled to utter words of gratitude. Instead, he handed over the mask and pointed. 'Go in that direction and you will be safe,' he said.

  'Come with me,' the young man said pulling at the Chief's elbow.

  The old man shook his head. 'I must stay here, this is my destiny. I must face the river of black. You will survive, as I hope this mask will. I leave a legacy from my culture for future generations to show them the way.

  The young man hid the mask under his blanket and ran. The Wolf Chief stared after him until he disappeared.

  From Nisga'a oral tradition

  When the volcano first erupted, it was like smoke from a burning house. No one knew how quickly their lives were about to change. The poisonous gas drifted ahead as the lava slid slowly down the mountainside. As soon as the villagers smelled this gas, they began to suffocate and their bodies grew stiff. The garound began to tremble and shake, for nature could not restore the harmony.

  A scout came to investigate and from the top of Gennu'axwt. He saw smoke and flames and ran to warn the rest of the people of their fiery destiny. Panic followed, some villagers fled up the mountain. Others canoed to the far side of the river but the black lava overcame them. Some did escape and from a distance watched the lava flow over their villages. Gwaxts'agat, a powerful supernatural being, suddenly emerged to block the lavas advance. For days, Gwaxts'agat fought back the lava by blowing on it with it's great nose. Finally, the lava cooled and Gwaxts'agat retreated into the mountain where it remains to this day.<
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  CHAPTER ONE

  Friday May 10th. Nine am

  'Why the hell did I buy this useless foreign shit,' Jackie Kilmartin shouted at the RAC mechanic after he told her the Toyota Corolla had transmission problems and he couldn’t fix it there and then.

  'Most cars are foreign these days,' he added, slamming down the bonnet.

  Jackie looked at her watch then kicked the nearside back tyre, forgetting her open toe sandals offered no protection. She bent down and tried to rub away the pain. Late again, she thought, and this time I've run out of excuses. She'd blamed her car on the previous occasion, even though it hadn't broken down. Twice in a month sounded suspiciously like lying, except this time it was the truth. Jackie didn't have a problem with lying when life seemed out to defeat her. Recently it had been one damn thing after the other. Pay back perhaps, she briefly considered, for making sure Wilson didn’t get the job.

  She sensed the mechanic’s irritation and was about to remind him about the term chivalrous. A buzzword once used by his company's advertising campaign, aimed at women drivers to describe a modern day knight rescuing them from dark, dangerous roads. Glancing at his expression she realised getting angry wouldn't solve anything. Repairing cars was his job, not placating neurotic women.

  She waved her phone at him. ‘I suppose I'll have to ring for a taxi. I’m already very late for an important meeting.’

  The mechanic gave her a weak smile. ‘Sorry I can't give you a lift but I'm headed in the opposite direction.'

  'How long will it be until the car's picked up?'

  'Twenty minutes max but you needn't wait,' he pointed to the Toyota, 'it's not going anywhere. Remember to tuck the keys behind the sun visor before you go. The recovery driver has all your details.'

  Jackie didn't offer any thanks. He nodded and climbed into his van. She heard him turn on the radio before driving away. Jackie paced up and down finding it difficult to concentrate because of the traffic noise. Leckhampton Road in Charlton Kings wasn't usually this busy. Jackie guessed another accident at The Air Balloon roundabout. The renowned bottleneck and crash black spot had resulted in a diversion.

  From the moment she'd woken up everything had irritated her. Mornings were never her best time but lately she’d been plagued by depression as soon as she got out of bed. Jackie knew why, too much alcohol. She'd developed a bad habit and couldn't stop. Now the depression was taking hold during the day, and getting worse.

  Her first priority was to speak to Giles Beresford, the head teacher. Keeping him sweet wouldn’t be difficult, he’d dropped enough hints lately. Only the other day he’d suggested a weekend away together. He'd pestered her for weeks and although she didn't fancy him, she knew refusing wouldn't help her career opportunities. Giles was no ordinary Academy head. His wife was ridiculously wealthy. She was also the Shadow Secretary of State for Education.

  Since taking charge of the art department, Jackie’s stress levels had increased even more, as had her drinking. Occasionally she wondered if her ambition had become a burden, one she couldn't afford to offload. Her A-level students faced tougher exams this coming summer due to the Government’s overhaul of the examination boards. If results were poor, she could expect plenty of criticism. If Giles only wanted sex, she'd be a fool to refuse. Her drinking problem had started as an escape from her dismal prospects. She wondered how long it would be before the exhilaration of her recent promotion would wear off and her depression worsen. Giles would serve as a diversion and future ally.

  She scanned the road hoping to spot the recovery vehicle. Phoning a taxi was pointless until it arrived. Feeling thwarted she moved back from the edge of the pavement and leaned against the bus shelter. There was no point getting on the next bus either, it stopped about a mile from the school and now her toe had started throbbing she would have trouble walking. Jackie checked the time; she should have arrived over an hour ago. Keith Wilson would have her guts regardless now. He was the favourite candidate for heading up the art department until three of her most talented students encouraged her to apply for the post. Their reasoning behind this unprecedented support was simple. Wilson’s teaching method was old fashioned and they wanted a more modern approach. Jackie realised she should have seen through their selfish motives. The three lobbyists had monopolised her time to the detriment of the rest of the class. Wilson, had he taken over the job, would never have put up with such classroom scheming.

  Lost in her own misery Jackie didn't notice a police car pull up behind her Toyota. A thickset uniformed officer got out of the passenger seat and walked towards her. 'Is this your vehicle?'

  'Damn,' she muttered under her breath. She stood up and managed a smile. 'I'm not in any trouble, am I?'

  The officer smiled back. 'Only that this traffic is going to build up and we need the road cleared, especially near a junction.'

  'It won't start. I'm waiting for a recovery firm to collect it. Has there been an accident?'

  'Road works on the A40 are causing problems. We're diverting some of the traffic onto the 46.'

  A rumbling sound caused both of them to turn around. The breakdown vehicle rattled to a halt in front of Jackie's car. 'Thank God,' she said. 'Is it okay to leave now?'

  The officer produced a notebook and wrote in it before he answered. 'Hang on a minute.'

  He spoke to the recovery driver and within minutes, the Toyota was winched onto the lifting grid.

  'You can go now,' the officer said.

  Jackie rang the taxi firm who promised her one soon. Again, she checked her watch, beginning to feel the first waves of anxiety. By now, Wilson would have gone to Giles, complaining bitterly about her not being there to greet their foreign visitor. Twelve minutes later the taxi turned up. The driver apologised for being late. Jackie sank into the backseat, already wishing the day away.

  Outside the main entrance, Jackie was relieved no one was waiting for her. Wilson would be busy teaching year seven, which meant one of the other staff members had done the meet and greet. The transformation from the old secondary school to Academy status never failed to impress her. It was double the size and boasted huge plate glass windows looking out onto manicured lawns. She ran along the pristine white corridors until a vision stopped her in her tracks.

  He was tall, she guessed about six foot three, and broad shouldered. He was looking out of the window, his face partially hidden by an authentic wolf head angled to the side and back of his head. As she moved closer, Jackie hoped it wouldn’t slip off and land at her feet. The rest of the wolf pelt covered his shoulders, the paws hanging over his chest, the rest, including the tail hung down his back. Underneath he wore a highly decorative fringed blanket, the distinctive colourful designs standing out against the neutral background. Leaning against the wall next to him was a tall wooden pole, the top carved into a face. Jackie found the sight amazing and for once in her life was speechless.

  The man returned her stare and held out his hands as she approached. ‘I've been looking forward to meeting you,’ he said.

  'Who let you in?' she asked him.

  'The lady working in reception saw me hanging about outside. I waited while she phoned your head teacher, but he wasn't answering.'

  He bloody wouldn't, Jackie thought, too busy placating Wilson.

  On closer inspection, she decided he wasn't traditionally good-looking but his angular face, high cheekbones and dark, intelligent eyes made him a very striking individual.

  Jackie softened her voice. ‘I'm very sorry I'm late. My car broke down.’

  ‘Then we have both had transport problems. I stayed with friends in Bath last night, and my train was late. I only arrived ten minutes ago. I hope your students are patient.’

  Jackie laughed. ‘This subject has caught their imagination. As it’s not part of their coursework, there’s no pressure on them. This is more to do with widening their appreciati
on of Canadian First Nation's culture and art. Mr Martin and I run an evening class and each term we set a different project. We asked for ideas and one student had visited the Nass Valley in British Columbia while on holiday and suggested we study the Nisga’a people. She read an article in one of our local papers about your proposed visit to four Gloucestershire schools. She insisted we ask you to come here.'

  'It's a great Academy,' he stated.

  'The original school on this site had a bad reputation and we're doing our best to change it. Cheltenham has some very prestigious schools and the old Grasmere comprehensive was at the bottom of the league tables. Having this wonderful new building and Academy status has changed peoples' perception. We hope it can only improve from now on. All the staff here are very proud of that achievement. I know you will inspire them Mr Morven. We’re honoured you agreed to come.’

  ‘I’m honoured to be here and please call me Jacob.’

  Jackie almost asked him about his outfit but stopped in time. He might be offended she hadn’t bothered to establish his status. She cursed her laziness. All she’d needed to do was look him up on her computer. God knows she wasted enough time trawling the internet. ‘We better get going. Ninety students are waiting for you in the lecture hall.’

  Morven picked up his carved stick and followed her. They turned left into another corridor and Jackie overheard Keith Wilson arguing with Grasmere's head teacher, Giles Beresford.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Beresford fell quiet as soon as he spotted her. To begin with, Wilson seemed oblivious to her presence and carried on ranting about how she hadn't tackled the lack of discipline in the art department. Wilson suddenly realised she was standing behind him and quickly shut up. Morven stood perfectly still and from his body language, Jackie sensed he disliked confrontation.

  'Why aren't you in the classroom?' she asked Wilson.

  Wilson's eyes narrowed. 'I needed to speak to Giles about another urgent problem.'