A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

Beth couldn’t believe what she was hearing; she’d never attended a press conference before, and to have to go into her first unprepared, and while investigating a crime with so few leads, couldn’t end well. If the brass were throwing O’Dowd to the wolves, the DI was doing the same to her.

‘Surely DS Thompson would be a more suitable companion? He’s more senior than I am, both in age and rank.’

‘Bugger.’ O’Dowd withdrew her hand from the printer. It was covered in black ink and she scowled at the printer as if it would apologise to her. ‘He is. But look at him, he’s exhausted, literally running on empty. Both physically and emotionally. One wrong word from a reporter and he’s likely to give them a piece of his mind. That can’t happen when the cameras are rolling.’

‘Cameras rolling?’ Beth shot a look at O’Dowd. ‘So we’re going to be filmed telling the world we haven’t got a clue who killed those four women. That’s just marvellous, bloody marvellous.’

‘Aye well, some things are what they are. It was either you or Unthank, and the way he’s been lately, I can’t trust him not to try and shag that new reporter from the News and Star.’

Beth got what O’Dowd meant. The new reporter wasn’t above batting her eyelashes to get what she wanted, and Unthank had reacted to breaking up with his fiancée by trying to jump into the bed of any woman who spoke more than four words to him. If the two of them were left alone in each other’s presence for any length of time, it was a racing certainty he’d end up being teased into feeding her titbits about the investigation.

‘With due respect, ma’am, a wee heads-up a bit sooner would have been nice. You know, a chance to run a brush through my hair or at least put some lippy on.’

‘That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you sooner. I want you going in there with a sheen of sweat on your brow and a knot in your hair. Catching a killer is hard work and I want you looking like you’ve been working hard, not preparing for a bloody date.’

Beth pulled a face at the DI’s back as the printer rattled and clacked into life. The first sheet it spat out was handed to her by O’Dowd. ‘Here, that’s from the press officer. It’s a list of non-committal phrases he deems acceptable. Have a deeks at them and memorise as many as you can.’

‘Isn’t he going to be there?’ Beth took the sheet of paper and started looking at it as instructed.

‘He’s on a course.’

‘A golf course, do you think? It’s ridiculous. This is his job, not mine.’

‘That’s enough, Beth.’ O’Dowd’s tone was as hard as Beth had ever heard it. ‘I don’t like it either, but we have to do the press conference. Me as the detective inspector, and you as the bright young thing working her backside off to get a result. Your past results have earned you a certain amount of credit with the press and today’s the day we’re going to spend it. You’re to stick to the stock phrases, keep your temper and trust me to field any nasty criticism that comes our way.’

‘So, basically all you need is for me to sit there doing nothing?’

‘No. I want them to see the fire in your eyes, to get a sense of your determination to get a result. I want them to realise how smart that sideways-thinking brain of yours is when you put it to good use. Whether you like it or not, you’re on a career trajectory. Sometimes you’ll get handed the shitty end of the stick and the way you either grasp it or let it fall to the ground will define your career.’

Rather than answer, Beth turned her back on O’Dowd and started to scan the trite, meaningless phrases issued by the press officer.

As much as she was angry with O’Dowd for the way the DI had forced her into attending this press conference, she knew that O’Dowd’s reasoning made logical sense. She also recognised that a layer of flattery had crept into the argument.

This was the reason she’d turned away from the older woman. Whenever the slightest blush fed onto her face, the scar on her left cheek appeared to whiten and give away her emotions.

When she’d read the stock phrases twice she balled the paper and tossed it into a bin. To hell with the press officer and his non-statements. If she was asked a direct question, she’d give the straightest answer she could without giving away any details of the case.

Thirty-Seven

Derek Forster tied his laces and sat back in his seat to think for a few moments about the forthcoming evening. As well as all the details that would need to be ironed out about the charity he intended to establish, he also wanted to make a good impression on DC Young. She was the perfect wounded puppy to front the publicity he wanted to generate for the charity. Coupled with the defining scar on her face, she had passion by the bucketload and if he could find a way to harness that and her inbuilt drive, then this new charity may well be the thing which got him a seat in parliament, or even the House of Lords.

It didn’t matter to him how she’d picked up the scar, it just mattered that she wore it like a badge of honour. Most of the women he knew would have vainly tried to disguise the remains of the wound. A few strands of hair hanging down the face or a layer of thick make-up were the obvious solutions, but DC Young did neither. The scar changed colour with her mood, and when she was fired up, the scar would flare white.

Her being an otherwise beautiful woman made the scarring seem even more tragic to him. The amount of inner strength she’d