Faraday 01 The Gigabyte Detective by Michael Hillier Read Free Book Online Page B

other investigations which might be in progress, to undermine his authority in any way she chose. But it would do him no good to voice any of these doubts. He just had to grin and bear it for the next three months.
    He became aware that everybody was watching him. A correct gesture was expected. He stepped forward and shook her hand. “Welcome to South Devon,” he mumbled.
    “Thank you.” She smiled. It was nice smile, from sparkling blue eyes. It suggested she could be very pleasant to those she decided were on her side. Then Stafford realised she had seen the conflicting emotions which were crossing his face, and had understood them. Maybe she appreciated his problems. Maybe there was a chance she would try to prevent the next three months from being such a living hell as he had imagined.
    “It’s going to be vital that you two work closely together on this one,” said the DCC. “You have all the local knowledge, Stafford, plus a year of investigation on the Adams case under your belt. You are to give Charlotte everything she asks for in both manpower and information. That will give her a flying start.” He came round the desk to be close enough to drive his point home. “It is essential that we make rapid progress on this one. The holiday season is nearly on us again.”
    “Surely, sir, you aren’t taking any notice of that bloody journalist,” Lasham burst out intemperately.
    He received a withering glance from Corbett.
    “There’s no mention of any journalist in my briefing notes.” Charlotte Faraday’s voice had a hard edge as she looked up at the towering presence of the DCC.
    “It’s only come up in the last few days” Lord Harry explained. “As Mark suggests, there may be nothing in it. I haven’t even read the article myself. But, as I understand it, some local journalist has been researching through back copies of his paper and has come up with the theory that Cynthia Adams is the fifth in the series.”
    “The fifth in the series?” asked Faraday. “What does that mean?”
    “Every year,” interrupted Lasham, “for the last five years, some rich bitch has died in Torbay at about the same time of year. Our Cynthia was the fifth.”
    The DCC shook his head sorrowfully. “More than half the multi-millionaires on our patch live within a mile of each other just to the East of Torquay. This article has got them into a right panic, I can tell you. I’ve been having phone calls from them all week, demanding personal protection. We’ve instituted hourly car patrols around the neighbourhood. But you can’t protect every yard of an area of over a square mile with three main tourist routes running through it.”
    “How many families are involved?”
    Lord Harry’s face grew even longer. “Probably at least two hundred and fifty.” He shrugged again. “Mind you, I think a number have already decided to move to London or go abroad for the period when they might be at risk.”
    “And when is that?”
    “Er - when is it precisely, Paulson?”
    The inspector swallowed. “Well sir - the earliest death suggested by Julian Brace (he’s the journalist at the Herald) is nineteenth June - the latest, seventh July.”
    “Nineteenth June?” said Faraday. “But that’s less than a week away.”
    “Bloody hell, you’re just like the rest of them. You immediately jump to the conclusion that there’s going to be another one this year.” Lasham jutted his head aggressively at her. “There just isn’t any evidence to support such a conclusion.”
    Paulson was startled. Even the DCC murmured, “All right, Mark.”
    However Charlotte stared straight back at him, apparently unmoved by the obvious contempt in his attitude. “I presume you mean that no kind of pattern has been established to link the deaths, other than the fact that they come from the same area and the same financial background and that they occurred at about the same time of year.”
    “More than that,” said Lasham. “Oh, you