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

lighting a cigarette as she leaned against the nearest parked car and settled in for a wait.
    She hadn’t even finished her smoke when a squad car approached from the direction of the farm and pulled to a halt at the end of the lane. Two large men climbed out of the back seat. Both were well over six feet tall, but while the first to emerge was thickset and fleshy with dark hair and a swarthy complexion, the second was long and lanky with light sandy hair, which flopped over his face as he moved. The dark swarthy one, who was wearing a particularly ill-fitting brown suit, looked as if there were a million other things he would rather be doing. The fair lanky one, snappily dressed in a trendy navy-blue linen jacket and immaculate dark-cream trousers with what looked terribly like Gucci loafers on his feet, gave the impression that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
    He strode straight into the gathering of hacks. ‘For those who don’t know me, I’m Detective Sergeant Mike Fielding and this is DS Todd Mallett,’ he announced, waving his hand at his colleague, whose discomfiture seemed to increase. Then he made a brief statement. It was standard stuff, all about growing concern, no further development, a renewed appeal for anyone who might have witnessed anything suspicious to come forward. ‘Also, I would like to ask on behalf of the Phillips family that you respect their privacy at this difficult time,’ he finished predictably. ‘There’s no point in hanging around here, lads, really there isn’t. Nothing’s going to happen at the farm. We’re in the process of setting up an incident room in Blackstone village hall and I or one of the team will give a press briefing theretomorrow at 4 p.m. – and every day until we find Angela.’
    As soon as he stopped talking the pack surged forward, surrounding him and Mallett, bombarding them with questions, almost all about Jeremy Thomas.
    ‘We do have a man helping us with our inquiries, but it really is just routine at this stage,’ said Fielding predictably. ‘There is no more I can tell you today, lads, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ As he spoke he was trying to force a way through the throng back to the squad car, the completely silent Todd Mallett at his shoulder. But the pack continued to harangue the two policemen, pushing and shouting.
    Joanna was in the thick of it. That was what she was paid for, after all. ‘What about the car you found near the scene, Detective Sergeant?’ she called and felt she could hear her own voice clearly above the chorus, perhaps because her pitch was higher.
    Maybe she was right, because Fielding swivelled round to face her, his surprisingly soft grey eyes seeking her out in the crowd. ‘And who are you?’ he asked.
    ‘Joanna Bartlett, the Comet .’
    He flashed a lopsided grin at her. ‘Thought so. The first woman in the Scotland Yard corps, eh? Frank Manners has told me all about you.’
    The bastard, thought Joanna. He’s even warned off his contacts. ‘I’ll bet he has,’ she said, half to herself.
    Fielding heard her, though. ‘Don’t worry about it, darling, you can tell me all about Manners any time you like. And any place.’ He looked her up and down appreciatively.
    There was loud laughter from the throng,particularly, not at all to Jo’s surprise, from Dewar and Hewitt. Another patronising sod, just like all the rest, thought Joanna, staring levelly back at the detective. She did not rise to him, choosing instead to remain silent.
    ‘Honestly, lads, that’s all for today,’ he said then.
    He did not attempt to answer her question, although she didn’t blame him for that, but his eyes were fixed on hers. Suddenly his face broke into that lopsided grin again. It was actually quite an endearing grin, thought Joanna, and was instantly annoyed with herself.
    Then the man winked.
    Joanna felt an almost irresistible urge to slap his face. She was quite glad to be clutching a notebook and pencil in her hands. How