A Kind Of Wild Justice by Hilary Bonner Read Free Book Online Page A

were already a couple of Scotland Yard press corps lads who had rather irritatingly got there before her. But then, she had wasted time trying to smooth things over with her husband before leaving. Chris had not been best pleased to have one of their rare Sundays together interrupted. Male hacks rarely seemed to have those kinds of problems with their wives.
    Harry Fowler, the Comet area man, who she knew had covered the earlier press conference, was also already there, as she had expected him to be. She was the only woman, as she had also expected.
    Harry looked across and gave her a slightly uncertain wave. Fortyish, a little on the plump side, pleasant-faced, you could tell almost by looking at him that here was a man who had found his niche inlife in a part of the world he loved. She had met him before, of course, and he was a nice enough guy without any of the chips on his shoulder of the London crime lads she had to work most closely with. But he would be well aware of the furore her appointment had caused in Fleet Street.
    The Scotland Yard reporters already at the scene, Nick Hewitt and Kenny Dewar, were two of the most contemptuous of her after her own alleged colleagues. They were watching her arrival with expressions of amusement and disdain. Patronising bastards, she thought. And, from the expression on his face, it was clear Harry Fowler didn’t know quite how to deal with any of it. She decided to take the bull by the horns and strode towards him, trying hard to display a kind of confidence she was not really feeling.
    She had to walk straight past Hewitt and Dewar, and she made sure her steps did not falter as she wished them a curt good evening.
    ‘My God, the Comet ’s sent in the heavy brigade,’ announced Hewitt with a derisive laugh.
    And both quickly and loud enough to be sure she was still well within earshot, there followed Dewar’s clear stage whisper: ‘You know something, Nick, I’d like to give ’er one really hard and bite ’er lip till it bleeds.’
    Joanna ignored both comments. Women who couldn’t stand the jolts were not expected to join the Street of Shame. She knew the rules and how to live by them.
    Harry Fowler, however, began to look even more ill at ease.
    Joanna pretended nothing had happened. ‘All right, Harry? Anything new?’
    Harry smiled uncertainly. ‘Hi, Joanna. Not a lot. I expect you know they’ve got the boyfriend in Okehampton nick.’
    Joanna shook her head. That information was obviously too fresh to have made any of the radio news bulletins she had listened to on the way down. Harry would already have passed it on to the news desk, of course, but although the MG did have one of the new car phones, linked by radio to a Post Office operator, it was unreliable. The reception had proved to be almost non-existent outside the London area and she hadn’t talked to her office since setting off.
    ‘They say it’s just routine,’ said Harry. ‘But he’s been in there since three this afternoon apparently. The word is that they found the boy’s motor near where the girl disappeared. I’ve got a stringer over there on a watching brief.’
    Joanna felt her excitement wane a little. If the boyfriend was guilty this might not turn out to be quite as big a story as she had anticipated. It was certainly likely to be cleared up quickly.
    ‘We might get something else soon,’ Harry continued. ‘Fielding’s supposed to be coming out to speak to us any minute.’
    Joanna nodded. She knew who Fielding was. She had already been given the names of the principal investigating officers when the news desk had called her at home. She took a packet of Marlboro from her jacket pocket and offered Harry one.
    ‘No thanks, given it up.’ He tapped his abundant torso in the vague region of the heart.
    Then she remembered. He’d been off work for six months following a bypass operation. Now back on the job on a story like this, something nice and stress-free, she thought wryly,