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

by Carole Pitt

  Elizabeth had no answer as Yeats seemed to have tied what little he had quite neatly together. Did he have absolute proof the Canadian was the last person to see Wilson alive? If Yeats arrested a high profile foreign national without concrete evidence, he'd face diplomatic repercussions. However, she wasn't about to leave without having the last word. Elizabeth moved back into the office. 'What about the all-important question, a motive?'

  Yeats fell silent for a moment too long which Elizabeth interpreted in the only sensible way. As yet he hadn't come up with one. She watched him search for a suitable answer.

  'We all know what can happen when an argument spirals out of control,' he offered.

  Yes, Elizabeth thought, and often leads to murder, only not necessarily in this case Detective Chief Inspector Yeats. But you're the one who has to prove it, I don't.

  She didn't slam the door after all. Not now she'd partially regained the upper hand.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  May 13th 8.30 am

  Elizabeth cursed as she pulled into the car park behind Gloucester and Cheltenham County Court. According to a large advert, a food festival was taking place at Gloucester docks which accounted for the lack of spaces. With only a few minutes before her meeting with one of the district crown prosecutors she reversed back to the rear court entrance and waited. Leaving the engine running she quickly checked the paperwork. In her mind there was sufficient evidence to take the case to court. However the Crown Prosecution Service followed a strict code issued by the Director of Public Prosecutions, setting out the general principles they must follow when deciding which cases ended up in a courtroom. Elizabeth hoped she'd met the two main considerations, a public interest to prosecute and sufficient evidence likely to lead to a conviction.

  She looked up and stared at the busy docks. Right now she'd prefer to join the crowds wandering past the food stalls or stopping to buy kitchen equipment. What she most wanted to do was relax, but that state of mind and body seemed as elusive as ever. She went back to the file. On paper the case against the brothers looked good. Even so, experience had taught her not to be overly optimistic. Plenty of grey areas existed within the law and a good defence lawyer knew exactly how to breach them. Her appointment today was with a new district prosecutor, a woman called Francisca Montero. Elizabeth checked her first name. Francesca was obviously the English version; the surname Montero gave her origins away. She was probably Spanish.

  A knock on the driver's window startled her. The car park attendant wanted her to move. She opened the window and flashed her ID. 'I've got an important meeting in the court.'

  'If you hurry there's a space. One of the judges is just pulling out.'

  Elizabeth thanked him and quickly moved the car forward. Then she waited patiently until the elderly driver manoeuvered his Bentley out of the bay. She hurried up the steps and pushed open the double glass doors into a busy reception area. Reorganisation inside the courts had taken place since her last visit and she wasn't quite sure where to go. She spotted a security guard and he directed her to the third floor. Instead of waiting for the lift she ran upstairs and surprisingly wasn't out of breath by the time she reached Ms Montero's office.

  Francisca Montero stood up as she entered the room. 'I see you managed to get a parking place,' she laughed, pointing out of her window. Judge Hollins is a terrible driver. I've only been here a few months and already I've heard him bump into other vehicles. One of these days I'm going to have to report him to the police.'

  'Only if he kills someone,' Elizabeth replied. 'I'm sorry I'm late.'

  'And I'm sorry I can't offer you coffee. My machine gave up yesterday'.

  Elizabeth remembered another coffee machine, but put it out of her head. 'I'll get one on the way out.'

  ‘I've heard about you Inspector Jewell.'

  'Nothing bad I hope.'

  Francisca Montero focused her beautiful brown eyes on Elizabeth. 'Quite the contrary, you're a Cheltenham legend. Now, I don't want to rush you but I do have another appointment, so can we get on.'

  Elizabeth handed over the file. She went through the procedure in her head hoping not to have missed any crucial points. Before determining a case should go to court the CPS ask the police to consider the evidential stage and the public interest stage. Both must pass a specific code first, otherwise the prosecutor will not submit the case to court. The vital test was not to waste taxpayers' money.

  Elizabeth felt sure she'd prepared the report carefully. The Faraday brothers both had previous convictions none of which would be admissible in any future trial. To save the prosecutor's time the first page of her report outlined a précis of the case for an initial opinion. As Ms Montero turned the page Elizabeth noticed a square cut diamond on her engagement finger. Probably just as well, she thought. Men outnumbered women in this branch of the CPS and the elegant Ms Montero wouldn't go unnoticed. Elizabeth guessed they were about the same age, although the woman in front of her was far better groomed. She wore a simple grey nineteen forties style suit and her glossy black hair hung straight to her shoulders.

  While Montero concentrated it gave Elizabeth time to rehearse what she wanted to say. Having a woman prosecutor might sway the decision. Much of BDSM philosophy focused on female domination and although this particular case didn't involve women, it still highlighted those practices dangerous to the female anatomy.

  Francisca Montero stopped reading. 'You have a very good case Inspector. However, whether we can bring a charge of manslaughter is debatable. I see you mentioned defrauding the Inland Revenue. I advise you to concentrate on this side of the Faraday's business. As soon as you have conclusive proof, bring it to me. We can't always prevent unscrupulous dealers distributing dangerous products but we can prosecute them for tax evasion.'

  Elizabeth had prepared herself for disappointment so was heartened by Montero's objective viewpoint. Now she could focus on putting the Faraday brothers away, rather than obsess about Yeats and the Wilson murder investigation. She liked the Spanish woman's positive attitude and hoped they'd continue to get along.

  'I'll do that, and thank you. We see the worst side of human nature in our jobs.'

  'We also see justice served, which is why I do this one,' the prosecutor replied and slipped the file into a briefcase.

  Back in reception, Elizabeth searched for the vending machine. Why keep moving them, she thought, I'm desperate for a cup of coffee. Eventually she spotted it tucked away in an alcove. She had just enough change to buy a chocolate bar as well. Although the reception area was less busy she only spotted one vacant seat right at the back of the room. Fortunately it was at the end of the row. She placed her cup of coffee on the floor and took out her mobile to check for any messages. A sense of relief came over her, and she decided to stay there for a while and watch the world go by. Courts were fascinating places. The legal system affected everyone one way or another during their lifetime and often people felt nervous on their first visit. From bankruptcy to murder, Elizabeth pondered, and everything in between.

  As individual's names were called she tried to guess why they were there. Two disgruntled youths didn't pose any problems. A middle-aged woman wiping her eyes and blowing her nose seemed slightly more difficult. Either here to apply for divorce papers or appear in court on a shoplifting charge. Her eyes moved to a tall elderly distinguished man who she thought she recognised. While she wracked her brain trying to remember his name she stared in disbelief at another man standing behind him.

  'Oh my God,' she whispered.' What's he doing here?

  Of course, her brain had frozen and she'd forgotten Calbrain freelanced for an insurance company. He was probably in court as a witness. Elizabeth picked up her coffee and made her way to the alcove where she knew he wouldn't see her. I'd rather not have to face you right now Mr Calbrain, it's not convenient. She was almost there, when over the babble of conversations she heard he
r name called. It was no good, the alcove was a dead end. In order to exit the building she had to cross reception.

  'How are you?' Calbrain asked.

  'Been to a meeting with the CPS. What are you doing here?'

  Calbrain's face changed. Suddenly he appeared uncomfortable and Elizabeth was puzzled. 'I'm meeting someone.'

  At that moment Francisca Montero approached and slid her arm through Calbrain's. 'Inspector Jewell, I thought you would have left by now. Anyway it's nice to see you again so soon.' She turned to Calbrain. 'You know each other?'

  Elizabeth couldn't speak and her legs had turned to jelly. Their body language said everything. This was a situation where she had to pull herself together.

  'Yes we do,' Calbrain said. 'Inspector Jewell and I met during the Lily Jerome investigation.'

  'I remember the case. I was still in London back then.'

  Elizabeth finally found her voice. 'Are you in court Nick?'

  Before he could speak, Francisca interrupted. 'We're going out to celebrate.'

  'Did he help you with a case too?' Elizabeth couldn't help herself.

  'No, he suggested a different partnership.' She held up her left hand where the diamond sparkled under the lights. 'He asked me to marry him.'

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  After they left Elizabeth felt dazed. Her legs moved automatically but she couldn't feel them. This is stupid, she thought, especially after all these months. Granted, her feelings for Calbrain had chopped and changed depending on her mood and workload. That aspect she understood. Resentment towards him had lingered like a sickness until recently. So why feel shocked, no, outraged even? Calbrain had pursued her and the simple answer was she wouldn't commit, so he'd given up and found someone else.

  One thing she was certain of. He wouldn't have looked twice at Francisca Montero if she'd said yes more often. The one night she'd stayed in his Bristol apartment had stayed fixed in her memory. She had every opportunity to repeat the experience but had always resisted. Is this why I feel as if an express train has just hit me? When will I learn my lesson with men?

  Moving as if in a dream she made it back to where she'd left her coffee and bent to retrieve the cup. The contents were cold but she drank it anyway, hoping a caffeine hit might cure her addled brain. She sat for ten minutes until the craving for a cigarette overcame her sluggishness. Everything appeared blurred as she dropped the empty paper cup into a bin. Her eyes always bothered her when she was upset or stressed and although she kept reading glasses in her bag, the distance pair stayed in the car because she couldn't drive without them.

  Outside the court a strong wind whipped her hair across her eyes. The temperature had dropped and she sheltered against the wall before lighting a cigarette. By the time she reached the car she felt slightly better. Her first instinct was to drive straight to Park Road and find Patterson. She'd confided in him about Calbrain and wanted to tell him this latest news but knew she would probably change her mind. Her personal life was constantly under scrutiny and if Yeats discovered a weakness he'd use it to further undermine her. Patterson had made his peace with Calbrain and often called by his business premises to see his part time secretary, Hannah, so would find out soon enough about the Montero woman. Elizabeth trusted his discretion; he probably wouldn't even mention he knew.

  She glanced at the quayside again. A place she'd never had time to explore. Overhead the ominous dark clouds were breaking up to allow brief spells of sunshine. Elizabeth crossed the car park and headed towards the well-preserved example of a Victorian port where renovated warehouses and other dock-related buildings had become thriving museums and retail outlets. Ships had once discharged their cargoes alongside the historical buildings. Now the water was busy with visiting narrow boats and smart motor cruisers. Further along, the waterways museum caught her eye. Occupying three floors of the old Llanthony Warehouse, the museum featured life on Britain's inland waterways. Outside by the quay, Elizabeth spotted an old steam dredger. She turned her head to the south of the main docks area and saw the new shopping mall. According to an old friend who was forever buying clothes it was worth a visit. When she'd had enough of culture, she'd try a little retail therapy.

  For the next hour the museum held her attention preventing Calbrain from dominating her thoughts. The initial shock and hurt had started to ease and the need for another coffee drove her to the shopping mall. Cut-price designer outlets lined the wide arcade; she stopped to glance in several windows but wasn't tempted to go inside. Instead, an independent cafe offering homemade soup and simple meals seemed a better option. While she waited for her order, she checked her phone and noticed three missed calls from Patterson.

  He picked up quickly. 'I was beginning to think you might have handed in your resignation without telling me,' he said, sounding stressed.

  'Don't be stupid Tony. Why would I resign and then keep an appointment at the CPS? I switched the phone off while I was with this new district prosecutor. She took her time over the file and isn't optimistic on the full charge unless we can prove they've falsified their business accounts. So we'll start with the Inland Revenue and request information under the Proceeds from Crime Act. Then I want you to contact Philip Younger.'

  'Who's he?'

  'He's a forensic accountant working for that big outfit in Montpelier.'

  'Yeats won't like spending that kind of money.'

  Elizabeth wondered why Patterson sometimes put a dampener on her decisions. 'Well he's going to have to; otherwise I'll ring up my best friend the Chief Constable and warn him of an imminent BDSM scandal, possibly involving some of his cronies.'

  'How will this Philip Younger bloke go about spotting inconsistencies in their accounts?'

  Elizabeth continued. 'A forensic accountant concentrates on quantifying losses or spotting cover ups. Then he looks for unusual transaction patterns and odd similarities. From what I've read, if this points to coincidental figures it can indicate fraud.'

  'Where are you now?' Patterson asked.

  'I'm having a coffee in the mall.'

  Patterson said, 'I've just thought of another angle. I bet the Faraday's bribed people to keep quiet about the parties.'

  'Start on that straightaway.’ Elizabeth was about to hang up when she remembered he'd tried to contact her three times. 'Sorry, I forgot to ask why you phoned.'

  'Katie Gardiner's managing the incident room and I'm relegated to the coalbunker, but the main reason I called is Eldridge says Yeats is keen to charge Morven for Wilson's murder.'

  Elizabeth was shocked at the speed of events. 'Did Eldridge mention if all the forensics are in yet?'

  'I didn't get the chance. He was in a hurry and full of himself as usual.'

  'It's too soon. What the hell is Yeats playing at?'

  'He's under pressure. There are more damaging headlines.’

  The bastard, she thought. Kicking Tony into the dingy claustrophobic office meant Yeats was determined to keep up the pressure. She finished the coffee and tried to stay calm.

  She heard Patterson shout in her ear. 'Speak to me Liz.'

  'Sorry, I was miles away. 'I'm on my way back to hand in the start of my report on meeting targets. I did some last night yesterday, for all the good it will do.'

  Elizabeth left the shopping mall and headed for the Saab. A clear blue sky and the sun's warmth lifted her spirits slightly. She unlocked the car and opened the driver's window to clear the condensation. Gulls swooped across the car park in search of food, their raucous cries unsettling her. The question of Calbrain's defection had crept back into her mind. Simply put, he’d moved on rather than stick around hoping she'd forgive him. Elizabeth had no choice but to acknowledge she'd made a fatal mistake, assuming he'd wait forever.

  'I'm pleased for you Nick.' Elizabeth said out loud as she negotiated her way out of the busy car park. 'And I won't wish your mar
riage plans fall apart.'

  At the roundabout on the A46, she stopped for petrol. As she approached the counter to pay, she caught sight of her face in an overhead mirror. Elizabeth stopped and smiled at her reflection.

  Not worried about anyone watching her, she smiled and said. 'He’s her problem now, not yours.'

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The phone rang seconds after he'd ended his previous call. Yeats was surprised to hear it was Belfast's Chief Constable and for a brief moment felt a surge of panic.

  'Yeats. Calling to see how you're settling in. I haven't spoken to you since you took over. I realise it's early days but I'm keen to know how this school murder case is going?'

  Yeats was quick to reply. 'Everything's fine Sir. We're making progress.'

  'No one giving you a hard time, I hope.'

  'Not so far,' Yeats lied. 'A decent bunch, albeit slow at times, but then in this area everything goes slow, even the supermarket queues.'

  He heard the familiar chuckle. 'That's how it is in rural parts.'

  Yeats realised he'd forgotten his manners. 'How are you Sir?'

  'Extremely well thank you. Let's go back to you, no problems to report, and you're settled? Not home sick I hope?'

  'No Sir,' Yeats said. 'You have nothing to worry about.'

  'That's good to hear. I know you're busy but keep me updated from time to time.'

  Afterwards Yeats felt agitated. He hadn't expected Belfast's Chief Constable to keep in touch, only his immediate boss. Maybe the CC regretted his decision to send him to Gloucestershire, and that could only mean one thing. Someone who'd gone off the radar for a while was back on the scene. His head whirred with possibilities, most of which he didn't want to think about. Yeats opened the desk drawer and took out a slim white box. He removed a single foil strip and pressed the raised area to release the pill then swallowed it. His energy level had dropped and he wished he could go for a gruelling fifteen-mile run. The problem was he couldn't do that, not today or at any time while he was stuck in Gloucestershire. Even if he'd known the area like the back of his hand, it was still out of the question.