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

by Carole Pitt

  Miss Goody Two Shoes and her slave, Eldridge's new name for DI Elizabeth Jewell and DS Patterson, were busy trying to solve a spate of burglaries at a warehouse in Gloucester. From what he'd heard, the company supplied erotic goods, including certain illegal bondage paraphernalia and DI Jewell had vowed that after arresting the owners, she would shut the place down.

  For the next twenty minutes, Eldridge was absorbed in fighting an army of Runeroons and didn't hear DCI Liam Yeats approaching.

  'Get on your feet Eldridge.'

  Eldridge ignored the command. The next thing he knew, a strong hand grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him to his feet while the other one rescued his laptop from falling onto the floor.

  'What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at? And I don't mean the rubbish on here,' he hissed, holding the laptop up.

  Eldridge had been lucky. Since Yeats' arrival at the beginning of March, he'd had very little contact with him. On Yeats' first day at Park road he'd introduced himself to the squad explaining he was replacing DCS Daly due to unforeseen circumstances. So far, Yeats hadn't interfered in CID's day-to-day workings, spawning speculation that he was too busy pen pushing to take notice of what everyone was doing. Looking into his steel grey eyes Eldridge realised they had all made a huge mistake.

  'Sorry Sir,' Eldridge stuttered, worrying about his laptop.

  Yeats shoved it into Eldridge's chest. 'Put this thing away and don't let me catch you wasting time again.' He moved away and then as an afterthought turned back. 'Make sure you're in my office in ten minutes.'

  Eldridge opened his desk drawer and slid the computer in. Trust him to be the first person to get on the wrong side of the Irishman, the name most of CID had given their new boss. No one knew very much about him other than he came from Belfast.

  'Know your enemy,' DI Elizabeth Jewell had told them all after she first met Yeats on Valentine's Day. Her words had encouraged plenty of illicit internet use trying to find out more about him.

  Eldridge went into the men's toilets and tried sprucing himself up. He needed a haircut badly and wished he'd put on a clean pair of jeans. Five minutes later, he was on his way to what used to be Daly's office. Eldridge missed his old boss, after a rocky start and several warnings the old devil had given him a chance to redeem himself on the Harry Steele investigation. Underneath the bluster and comedy act, Daly was a fair and experienced officer. Now Eldridge had to deal with this new bloke who he suspected was the complete opposite.

  On his way, Eldridge hoped he wouldn't bump into anyone, especially Katie Gardiner. Now she was going to join CID permanently there would be no way of avoiding each other. Apart from any other issue, she was clever and Eldridge could see a problem looming, fierce competition. As soon as he entered Daly's old office, he noticed the transformation. Rumours had circulated about the makeover. Eldridge looked around and was impressed.

  Stripped bare of all the old shelves and unnecessary clutter it looked bigger. White walls and the laminate floor had replaced yellowing woodchip and the stained grey carpet. He couldn't see the Lloyd Loom chair anywhere. It too, had gone. Yeats lounged in a black leather armchair behind a solid teak desk. He pointed to an identical one. 'Sit,' he said.

  Eldridge decided to take the initiative. 'I'm ready to apologise Sir, it's just DI Jewell didn't leave me instructions before she left.'

  'Where is she by the way?'

  'Griffith's trading estate in Gloucester, still on those porno burglaries. Apparently she's winding things up today.'

  'Why aren't you with her?'

  Eldridge thought for a moment. He didn't want to disclose that she'd asked him to do another favour for her out of hours. The lean, hard bloke in front of him made him feel uneasy. The legendary Royal Ulster Constabulary had changed its name in two thousand and one to the less intimidating title of The Police Service of Northern Ireland. The first fact Eldridge could be sure of was Yeats had served over twenty years in the force, a proportion of that as a special branch officer in the RUC. The secret was not to mess with him. Feeling edgy, he racked his brains for a convincing reply.

  'Basically, she didn't need me. DS Patterson had to go back into hospital for a couple of days at the end of February. A bit of a scare, you know, from his head injury. Anyway, he stayed on desk duty for a bit and I filled in for him. Now he's back. Those two make a great team, so I'm stuck without a partner again.'

  'Leaving you free to play computer games in the incident room?'

  'I said I was sorry Sir. It won't happen again.'

  'If it does...' The desk phone beeped and Eldridge tried not to sigh with relief. If he was lucky, he thought, Yeats might need to go out, allowing him a temporary reprieve.

  Eldridge stood up and signalled he was leaving but when he reached the door, Yeats called out to him. 'Don't go anywhere.'

  He replaced the phone. 'Do you know the Grasmere Academy?'

  'I know where it is.'

  'Good.' Yeats said, throwing a bunch of keys at him. 'You can drive.'

  'What's happened?' Eldridge asked, noting Yeats' expression.

  'I'll tell you on the way.'

  Outside in the car park Yeats pointed to a dark blue BMW. It was brand new and top of the range, his spirits lifted immediately. He opened the driver's door and got in.

  Yeats fastened his seat belt and said, 'What puzzles me Eldridge is how you made it into CID.'

  Eldridge started the engine and reversed. 'Probably because I've got a first class honours degree in computer science. I fancied a job in software development and worked for a big company back in Devon for a while. Then my best mate applied to join the police force so I did too.'

  'Why move to Gloucestershire?' Yeats asked.

  'I lived at home all the time I was at uni, and continued to when I started my first job. Mum and Dad didn't like the idea of me moving out. I was going nuts and had to find somewhere further away, a place they couldn't pop in every day.'

  'So you're an only child?'

  'Three older sisters all married with kids. They left home years ago.'

  Yeats nodded. 'I see the picture clearly now.'

  Lansdowne Road was busy. The traffic had piled up at the Montpelier roundabout due to a broken down delivery lorry. Yeats hadn't said a word but Eldridge sensed there was something seriously wrong. Once they got onto the Tewksbury Road, it took another ten minutes to reach the school. Eldridge had visited the school after he first arrived at Park Road. Sent there to deliver a cautionary lecture on safety which he'd found embarrassing, as he wasn't used to public speaking. When he pulled up outside the main entrance, a woman in her sixties was waiting for them. She rushed over to the car before they had time to get out.

  'Come quickly. Something terrible has happened.'

  She practically ran up the corridor and Eldridge wondered why. Yeats still hadn't said anything. Once they caught up, the woman introduced herself as Janet and explained her co-worker was in a state of shock. She led them to the art department. Janet hesitated by the door to a small office. 'Before we go in I want to tell you I haven't touched anything.'

  Yeats pushed open the door and Eldridge followed. Keith Wilson lay on his back, arms and legs splayed. Considering this was his first murder scene, Eldridge didn't feel nauseous or about to faint. Playing the fantasy game he'd got used to violent death on a screen, where the blood and gore didn't smell. He stared at the knife standing perfectly straight and wondered why it hadn't fallen over. Anatomy wasn't his strong point and he wished Yeats would yank it out. Blood on the computer screen was a different colour to the pools on the floor and he shifted his eyes downwards wondering why there was so much. Yeats stood unmoved, no sign of any emotion. He glanced across, his eyes cold and unfeeling. Eldridge took one last look. Wilson's eyes were wide open, his expression more puzzled than scared.

  'Get in touch with Grayson,' Yeats
shouted.

  Eldridge went back into the corridor and pulled out his mobile. Grayson wasn't answering so he left a message. When he went back, Yeats was on his knees examining the body.

  Yeats turned to Janet. 'So you waited nearly half an hour before contacting us. Can I ask why?'

  'Because I needed to make sure Libby was all right. There was nothing I could do for Mr Wilson.'

  Yeats paused before speaking. 'What I want you to do now Janet, is to go back to Libby and stay there until I come and talk to you. You might need to let your family know you'll be late getting home. I'll make sure someone drives you. Before you go, I need the headmaster's number. Another question, was Mr Wilson married?'

  'No he wasn't but Ms Kilmartin's head of the art department, she'll know who to contact.'

  'Did you get hold of Grayson?' Yeats said to Eldridge.

  'No answer. What do you want me to do?'

  'Find a replacement Eldridge. I've met Dr Oakley who I gather fills in for him. Tell her I expect her here within the next fifteen minutes.'

  Eldridge trundled back into the corridor, scrolled through his phone until he found the number. For all he was facing a severe reprimand over the gaming incident he was pissed off with Yeats' arrogant attitude. He wasn't in the army but it was beginning to feel like it. Dr Oakley was at home, and promised to leave immediately. She sounded nice and he realised he'd never met her before. Anyone was better than Grayson, Eldridge decided. Another bloke who thought the world revolved around him. Yeats was coming out of the art room. 'Let's talk to the cleaners,' he said.

  By the time they all squeezed into the little staff quarters it didn't take Eldridge long to feel claustrophobic. Janet put the kettle on and Yeats pulled up a stool next to Libby. 'I understand this has been a big shock, but it's important you answer questions now before you forget,' he told her.

  Libby lifted up her head. 'I understand,' she whispered.

  'Before you found Mr Wilson did you hear anything suspicious, any unusual noises?'

  Libby turned to Janet. 'I didn't, which is strange considering I was closest to the art rooms.'

  Janet carried on making the tea. 'I heard something, but I've no idea what it was. I wanted to check there was nobody inside the school, but felt scared. With the new security system, I can't see how anyone could get in. Only the staff could.'

  Yeats added sugar to his mug of tea. 'Staff knew the code but no one else.'

  'That's what I'm told. Not that many of them come back here at night, only if they forget something or need a bit of peace and quiet to work. I'm nearly always gone before nine o'clock, even after working overtime. After that I haven't a clue what happens.'

  Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door and a slim redheaded woman poked her head in. 'Can someone point me in the right direction?'

  Yeats immediately got up. 'Dr Oakley,' he held out his hand. 'Liam Yeats, I'll show you the way. Eldridge, take over here. I want names and telephone numbers for every staff member including the head teacher. Tell him to get here quickly.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  Elizabeth sat in the Saab and watched as two vans pulled away from the warehouse car park. It was nearly nine o'clock and she'd been stuck in the stifling. grimy building for almost three hours. What had started out as a routine burglary investigation had rapidly turned into a farce when the brothers who owned the business refused them access to the basement as the keys had gone missing. Patterson suspected they were running some kind of scam and Elizabeth had ordered the doors to be removed.

  Requesting an inventory for the alleged stolen goods had caused another major problem. Patterson reminded the Faraday brothers they could hardly trace their property without descriptions. Eventually the two men cobbled together an almost indecipherable list which Elizabeth had spent a stupid amount of time translating and discovered to her horror many of the items were bordering on illegal.

  Approximately half the products the brothers distributed were sex toys destined for shops specialising in the cheaper end of the market. However, their distribution network did not end there. It was clear to Elizabeth the most profitable goods were those making their way to outlets selling BDSM paraphernalia to private individuals. She knew the term BDSM dated back to the late sixties. The letters were an abbreviation of bondage and discipline with sadomasochism. Over the years, the practise had become more widely known due to the increase in books and films covering the subject.

  The fact that their mail-order catalogue didn't include those particular products told Elizabeth all she needed to know.

  While she waited for Patterson and the uniformed officers to seal the building she went over what she'd learned during her short spell with the vice squad. Sadomasochism had been around a long time and there had been several cases where certain rituals had resulted in fatalities. From what she remembered of the law, perpetrators of sadomasochistic practises, which resulted in death, faced lengthy prison sentences.

  Elizabeth had read enough reports about cruel and sadistic actions causing terrible injuries. Whether the victim consented was irrelevant, police could and would prosecute. Half an hour ago, she had arrested both brothers who were now at Park Road facing interrogation. Asking for their accounts turned out to be pointless. However, forensic searches uncovered several boxes containing contact numbers and unsent orders. She'd given the task to one of her junior detectives to sift through and highlight any inconsistencies. The report on her desk had made interesting reading. The brothers had a more lucrative sideline supplying goods to BDSM parties. One particular party six months ago went tragically wrong. Several people ended up in hospital and one person had died. Elizabeth felt confident she could prove the brothers were culpable due to their disregard of the Public Safety Act. In the meantime, the warehouse would undergo further forensic searches before the rest of the stock was confiscated.

  For all she felt tired, she also felt elated. Some people thought they were above the law and could blindside the police. She leaned her head against the headrest, and closed her eyes. What she wanted most was to go home, stand in the shower for half an hour and get into bed with a glass of wine. Not just to rid her body of the dust and grime from the disgusting warehouse, more to wash away some of the images she'd seen in the last few days. Elizabeth knew she wasn't a prude, but there were limits to what she found acceptable human behaviour. A knock on the window gave her a start. Patterson had pressed his face against the glass. 'You can't go to sleep there.'

  Elizabeth forced herself to sit up. She opened the window. 'I'm going home Tony to get rid of this stink. Eldridge is working late tonight; collar him if you need a hand.'

  'I'd like nothing more than to work him to the bone. By the way, just had a text to say our Wayne was caught gaming on police premises.'

  'Quite honestly, the way I feel right now I couldn't care less so I'm passing the buck. Tell him he's an idiot if he thinks he can take Yeats on without serious consequences.'

  'I know this is a stupid question but have you heard from Mrs Daly?'

  Elizabeth sighed. Now wasn't the time to delve into the Daly mystery. She had her own thoughts on what could have happened but preferred to keep quiet. Speculation over Daly's whereabouts had died down at Park Road the moment Detective Superintendent Liam Yeats walked through the door. Whenever anyone asked about his predecessor, Yeats kept to the same script, repeating it was a private matter and no one's business. Elizabeth had tried to like the Irishman, unlike the rest of the team. The trouble was, she was aware from early on he didn't like her.

  Elizabeth sat upright ready to go. 'If I get an early night, I'll make sure I'm in by seven thirty to start the paperwork.'

  Patterson patted the roof of the car. 'I better get back and check on Eldridge.' He headed towards his car and Elizabeth fired up the engine.

  She was about to turn onto the main road when her phone rang. She pulle
d up by the barrier. 'Yes,' she said wearily.

  'It's Eldridge. Yeats wants you at Grasmere Academy now. There's been a murder.'

  Elizabeth's first reaction was shock. For a brief moment, she thought he'd said murders and had felt her heart lurch. Visions of carnage ran through her head, dozens of students shot by some maniac on the rampage. There was only one way to confirm and that was to ask him. 'You did say a murder? Not murders.'

  Eldridge didn't answer for a second and Elizabeth guessed something had distracted him. 'Sorry boss. I said one murder.'

  Elizabeth let out a deep breath 'Student or staff member?'

  'Someone's stabbed one of the art teachers. Dr Oakley's there.'

  'Where's Grayson?'

  'Don't know, I've tried several times but he's not picking up. I better warn you, looks like Yeats is taking control of this one.'

  Elizabeth was pleased Eldridge had sussed out the situation. At one time, he would have done everything he could to cause her problems. His shift in allegiance reassured her, whether or not it lasted, only time would tell. For now all that mattered was she had him on her side. Yeats gearing up to lead a murder investigation was interesting. Surely, he had other more pressing issues to deal with, unless there was an ulterior motive, like trying to undermine her capabilities. Elizabeth knew that whatever happened, she mustn't let Yeats get to her.

  'I'm on my way,' she told Eldridge and swung the car back towards the warehouse to catch Patterson before he drove off. He cracked open the window. 'I thought you'd had enough of this shithole.'

  'Change of plan.' she said. 'Get in. We have a murder at the Grasmere Academy.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN