by Carole Pitt
Elizabeth studied the stains. 'I wonder why he changed Wilson's position.'
'I don't think the splayed arms and legs are significant in any way. He was probably dragged by the elbows and ended up like that.'
Jessica held her arms up. 'Like this,' she continued. 'Libby, one of the cleaners can't remember exactly what she did after finding the body. She says she didn't touch anything, but there was blood all over her hands and clothes so it's possible she moved Wilson too. The other cleaner can't seem to recall much either. Personally, I believe she can remember, but wants to protect her friend. They're a couple of average women. Imagine the shock the older woman got seeing her friend in that state. She might even suspect her of doing the deed.' Jessica checked her watch. 'I'll learn more tomorrow.'
'No post-mortem tonight I guess.'
'I better wait until I contact Grayson. If I go ahead and he's on his way home, I can foresee difficulties. I like to lead a quiet life Liz. And after that scare Grayson had with the suicide, he's a stickler for procedure now.'
'I know what Grayson is like,' Elizabeth stated. 'Will I be in your way if I have a look around?'
'You'll have to be quick. The morgue machine's on the way.'
Elizabeth made a more detailed examination of both the office and studio. If the killer had deliberately damaged paintings and other artwork, perhaps this was definitely a revenge attack. It might explain the frenzied search. She wondered what was so important. Other possibilities came to her. A student unhappy about their grades, looking to get into a top university and for reasons unknown Keith Wilson had scuppered their plans. There was something odd about the studio, but for some reason she couldn't figure it out. When she'd first looked, it had seemed obvious, now her mind drew a blank.
Ten minutes later Wilson's body was on its way to the morgue and Jessica had promised to keep in touch. 'I wouldn't want to get you into any trouble,' she'd said.
Elizabeth had to laugh. 'I'm already too far-gone so what difference would it make?'
Yeats, Eldridge and Beresford were still in the small conference room when she passed by on her way out. The temptation to speak to Yeats was great but she resisted, knowing it would only make matters worse. She was about to ring DC Johnson when she heard Yeats shout her name.
'I want to talk to you in private,' he said leading her out of the building then across the lawn to one of the seating areas. It was much darker now, Elizabeth shivered even though the night was warm. For some reason, she felt vulnerable being alone with him.
'As you've had time to snoop around the crime scene I wondered if you'd come up with any ideas?' he said.
'It's not down to me to put forward any ideas. That's your responsibility.'
'In case you need reminding Jewell, we need this sorted quickly. By tomorrow morning, we will have every parent clamouring for a solution. Most of them won't even want to send their kids back here, especially the younger ones. Because it's a highly emotive situation, the Chief Constable is having a meltdown. He's just rung me and expects a progress report by tomorrow morning. I want to give some of the junior detectives a chance, which will give me a bigger team. Eldridge better shape up or he'll be on the transfer list. You should have dealt with his attitude problems earlier. When I came here, my first objective was to get rid of Park Road's entrenched apathy. Daly allowed discipline to slide into the mud, where it's remained ever since. The situation is going to change, starting with this investigation.'
Elizabeth knew any tactics she'd employed with Daly would never work with this man. He was like a red rag to a bull and she was sure she could see the beginnings of a red mist before her eyes. Yeats looked directly at her, waiting for a reply.
'How dare you fucking criticise us. Cheltenham is not fucking Belfast and I would be grateful if you remembered that fact. You make it sound as if DCS Daly was running a fish and chip shop, instead of a highly organised police station. You accuse us of acting like bumbling, incompetent, amateurish detectives.'
Elizabeth felt a sharp pain in her head and wondered if she was about to pass out. What she wanted to do was walk away, but if she did, she knew Yeats would see it as defeat. Instead, she concentrated on staying upright and defiant. He said nothing for what seemed like minutes, but it was only seconds. When he did, she stepped back as if to protect herself. Yeats had moved forward, his face twisted in anger.
'You're a loose cannon Jewell and one day you'll pay the price. In the meantime, I suggest you deal with the backlog of shit back at Park Road and stay out of my way. You can forget interfering in this case. Lastly, a word of warning, if you try garnering support from the Chief Constable or DCI Daly you will be wasting your time. I have it on good authority that both of them would be glad to see the back of you.'
Elizabeth struggled to hold back the tears after he mentioned Daly. Although she knew he was deliberately lying, his words still cut her to the very core. For all her faults, her colleagues and team still respected her. There was no way she'd ever allow this hard- nosed, bastard to ruin her friendships and career.
'I don't take threats kindly. I might look like a feeble woman, but I've met tougher characters than you, check my records if you haven't already done so.'
Yeats smiled. 'They made good reading on the plane ride over. Let me be blunt. I don't like working with women and just admitting it could land me in the shit. Especially with the likes of you, who the minute I turn my back, will start telling everyone I'm a prejudiced bastard. A bit of advice, slating me will be a waste of time. You've alienated Gloucestershire's Chief Constable, who I can guarantee doesn't give a damn about your petty complaints.'
Elizabeth tried to find a suitable retort but her mind went blank. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and when she opened them, Yeats was gone. She rested her back against the wooden seat eager to get back to Park Road but anger had used up most of her energy. How could she ever work with this man? Why discriminate against Patterson, who had suffered a serious injury in the line of duty. Surely even Yeats was capable of compassion. It was the old trick of divide and rule and Yeats didn't give a damn about seeking justice for Keith Wilson. She knew very little about his history but now she had more time on her hands she could rectify that. Most people, at some time in their life made mistakes. Working for Special Branch, Yeats had more to hide than most. As she'd pointed out to him, Cheltenham, unlike Belfast, hadn't suffered years of unrest and violence. Maybe he was psychologically better equipped to solve terrorist crimes quickly but that didn't give him the skills to solve this one.
Not everything he'd said she'd disagreed with. A teacher murdered on school premises was a horrendous incident affecting hundreds of children and their families. Elizabeth knew she wouldn't sleep at night until they caught the murderer. If she'd had kids, there was no way she'd allow them to return to school. More media presence had started setting up on the main road. Thank god this time she didn't have to deal with them. Elizabeth's thoughts went back to Patterson. How to break the bad news was bothering her. Another spell cooped up behind a desk would certainly frustrate and depress him. Yeats could do what he liked with her, but to punish Patterson in the process was nasty.
Elizabeth hauled herself off the seat and contemplated her next problem. The main road was lit up like a Christmas tree. More media vehicles had squeezed into the pickup bays beyond the school gates. How would she get through without having the press on her back? Many of the local hacks knew her well. They relied on her for a few sound bites but tonight there was no chance. She'd given Patterson her big torch, but she kept a small one in her bag.
'Only one way,' she muttered as she turned on the powerful LED beam. Then she made her way across the playing fields towards Cresswell woods.
CHAPTER NINE
Relieved to be out of the woods Elizabeth stood still until her breathing returned to normal. Her mad idea had taken its toll. She'd expected to see the odd
dog walker about, but she'd found herself alone in the dark forbidding woods as dusk had quickly turned to total darkness followed by a short spell of thunder and lightning. Now she was drenched and scared and wondering who to phone for a lift home.
Rather than have to answer questions about where she had been, Elizabeth decided to walk the half mile to Leckhampton High Street where she could pick up a few items from the supermarket. Burger King was open and the thought of food cheered her up. She hurried along on aching feet, went straight into Burger King, ordered, and sat by the window.
After the earlier confrontation with Yeats, what she really needed was a stiff drink and pleasant company, but that wasn't going to happen tonight. Outside, the rain was pelting down, she stood under a canopy and phoned Patterson.
'Where are you?' she asked.
'I had to come back to the warehouse, not enough crime scene guys turned up, and the brothers Grimm hired a shit hot solicitor. He wants the search completed by midnight and this place locked up. As he pointed out, there's thousands of pounds worth of legitimate products in the warehouse. If it's nicked he's going to hold us responsible. The irony of it is we've found more stuff. One of the crime techs literally tripped over a dozen boxes containing branding irons and violet wands. I reckon this little lot hasn't come through customs. I can't wrap my head around all this stuff Liz, it's too bizarre.'
Elizabeth concentrated. 'I've heard of the violet wand things. Don't they produce electric currents? I agree with you. I'm just as bewildered as you are. Why do people need to inflict intense pain in order to make sex better?'
Patterson didn't want to discuss sexual gratification with his superior officer. He heard the strain in her voice and changed the subject quickly. 'I got one hell of a shock when I heard about Keith Wilson. I met him once at a school football match. A few people thought he was a bit weird, but he seemed an okay bloke to me. Even though he was an art teacher, he took a keen interest in sports. Anyway, you sound stressed.'
'I'm depressed and need a lift. Can you pick me up?'
Patterson's surroundings were dim, dark, dirty and claustrophobic. A Scene of Crime Officer stood opposite painstakingly sifting through large hessian bags full of polystyrene chips. 'Hang on a sec,' he shouted over to the crime scene technician. 'How much longer do you need me?'
'We've got another bloke coming in shortly. If I was you I'd bugger off while you have the chance.'
Elizabeth heard the reply and felt better.
Patterson got back. 'Tell me where.'
'Outside Morrisons, pull into the side street. I'm going in to buy wine. Do you fancy a drink?'
'Are you sure you want company?'
'I'll take that as a yes then.'
Patterson went straight to the men's room. He didn't have time to go back to his apartment to tidy himself up. The toilets were squalid, the washbasins black with grime. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and soaked them under the cold tap. It would have to do, he thought, rubbing his blond hair with the makeshift facecloth. While dusting off his jeans with the soggy mess he looked back to the Valentine's night party when everything seemed to change. If he'd paid more attention to Katie Gardiner, she might not have gotten involved with Eldridge and since that relationship ended badly she'd barely acknowledged him. If he was honest he still fancied her, but the atmosphere at Park Road had gone downhill since Daly's unexpected departure. There was an air of mistrust, and the many once solid friendships had fractured slightly. Liz wasn't the same since Yeats took over. He'd noticed her lack of energy and general pessimism. At first, he wondered if she was pregnant, he knew he was looking for a reason to understand her behaviour but asking was out of the question because the subject would involve bringing up Calbrain.
He'd taken Hannah, Calbrain's secretary, out a few times, then one of her former boyfriends returned from his world travels and Patterson had to bow out gracefully.
Driving to Leckhampton, he wished he knew more about early pregnancy. He pulled up outside Morrisons and saw her coming out with a couple of carrier bags. By the time they reached her house the rain had stopped and the ground had dried up.
Elizabeth poured two glasses of red. 'In the eyes,' she said.
Patterson checked out the kitchen. 'Where's that huge cat?'
'Why can't you ever remember his name? I've reminded you often enough.'
'I can't bring myself to say it. Bagpuss is a bloody stupid name. Why didn't you call the beast something more sophisticated? Like Horatio.'
Elizabeth frowned. 'No one criticises my cat. Sit down and listen. Yeats asked me to pass on a message. Not only are you off the case, you're going back to your favourite desk to sort out our horrendous backlog of crimes. He wants us apart, he thinks that way we won't challenge him.'
Patterson didn't react the way she would have expected. Two months of disruption at Park Road had pointed the way to change. Yeats had arrived with an agenda, one he wasn't afraid to implement. At least now, they knew where they stood. He emptied the glass in two gulps.
'He's a bastard and we need to do something about it.'
Patterson refilled his glass. 'I suppose it will be against all the rules.'
'We do background checks on plenty of other people. Yeats isn't royalty or the Prime Minister so as far as I'm concerned he's fair game. Find out everything you can about him. Inside that stiff and uncompromising excuse for a human being are secrets. I want you to find them. You spent plenty of time probing into that doctor, what was he called again?'
'Ursini was a suspect. Yeats is a senior police officer; imagine what will happen to me if he finds out.'
'Forget about him finding out. He's so up his own backside he won't notice. He thinks we're terrified of him and I intend to encourage that for as long as it suits me.'
Patterson leaned his head against the wall. Liz's investigative methods usually got her into trouble. Even though he voiced his disapproval, she could be very persuasive. Experience had taught him that for all her methods were unconventional, she got results. As his future was on the line anyway, he supposed he had nothing to lose. 'So I’m done with the Faraday case?'
'Not until I finish the paperwork for the CPS.' Elizabeth flicked a switch and pushed open the French doors into the garden. 'Let's forget work for a while. Come and see my garden lights. If they still work okay, you'll be able to see what I've done. Bring the wine with you.'
Patterson followed her onto the patio and sat down. 'I thought you'd hired a gardener, so why wouldn't they work?'
Elizabeth flicked a switch by the door. 'I did, but gardeners don't do electrics and I didn't want all solar lights because they always seem to need new batteries. I asked an electrician friend and he's done a great job. What you think?'
Stainless steel lamps lit up most of the garden. All along the back fence, she'd festooned the shrubs with garlands of smaller solar lights. Patterson thought they looked like Christmas trees, except there was no tinsel.
'A bit out of character, I thought you preferred minimalist surroundings. So what's prompted all this?'
'Simple, I copied Mum and Dad's ideas. If you think this is over the top, their garden is ten times worse.'
Patterson refilled the glasses. The wine helped him view his situation with less concern, and if Liz opened another bottle, which no doubt she would, tomorrow morning's hangover would take precedence over everything else.
'So now you're a keen gardener?'
'I need a hobby. I don't see my girlfriends very often since they had kids.'
Patterson tried comforting words, knowing how she felt about children. 'I bet they've put loads of weight on and can only squeeze into those hideous polyester tracksuits.'
'That comment is bordering on discrimination Sergeant. Don't let me hear you be offensive towards new mothers again.'
Patterson emptied the last dregs from the bottle. Eli
zabeth twirled her glass gazing into the bottom. He knew he would never understand women, at times Liz was a total enigma to him. They had always worked well together and the prospect of their partnership ending upset him. What happened last year had brought them closer. 'Sorry boss.'
She looked up and smiled. 'Yeats won't stay, I promise you.'
'If that's the case, we'd better celebrate. It's Friday night so we can start another bottle?'
Elizabeth Jewell's smile lit up her face. 'Sod work and sod Yeats,' she said and went back into the kitchen for another bottle.
CHAPTER TEN
Saturday May 11th
Jade Harper didn't want to get out of bed. She'd arrived home at three in the morning and fallen asleep in her clothes and five-inch stiletto heels. Struggling to sit up she squinted through swollen eyelids and made out the time, it was almost midday.
Along with six other friends and acquaintances, Jade had gone to the Alcaidesa nightclub in the centre of Cheltenham with one intention, to get blind drunk. By midnight, she'd lost count of the number of tequila shots she'd downed, so when Duncan Mortimer suggested they go for a walk Jade had gone willingly. Ten minutes later, she found herself in a narrow alleyway engaging in frenetic sex. Thinking about her stupidity and any repercussions from it had brought on a panic attack. Even by her standards, the hangover was one of the worst she'd ever experienced in her eighteen years. Added to that, her body ached all over from the previous night's gymnastics.
She eased herself across the bed, rummaged in a cabinet drawer until she found a strip of painkillers. She swallowed three, staggered to the bedroom door and listened until she was sure her parents and brother had left the house.
Negotiating the stairs proved difficult as she'd forgotten to remove her shoes. Twice she had to sit down to stop herself falling. When she reached the hall she made straight for her father's office. Jade unlocked the drinks cabinet, removed a bottle of vodka and filled a crystal tumbler to the brim. She drank half and immediately replenished the glass. Feeling marginally better, she wandered into the garden and slumped onto a padded recliner. The sky was a cloudless blue and the noon temperature had reached twenty-two degrees.
