Free Force Of Habit v5 by Robert Bartlett Page A

subject to reckless endangerment, so you are honoured before the cream of the community and what do you go and do? You insult them. It all stops now!’ he shouted the final word while slamming the desk.
    These guys were all ego. The Chief just loved asserting his authority. North wore the mask. Let him have his moment. Stayed blank, kept calm, processed information. Tried to work out where the Chief was coming from. He could appreciate that he'd had a dig at the ceremony last night, fair enough, but nothing that warranted the volume of heated air coming his way. He had also made a valid point or two. And for the last six weeks he had been shackled to a desk where no one had said jack to him about shit. What concerns? The Chief was on one and it had him talking out his arse. Best let him vent.
    ‘What on earth goes on in your head?’
    Just let him vent.
    ‘And don't think I don't know about your misspent youth and if there's one thing I know after thirty-five years of policing is that a leopard cannot change its spots.’
    North wouldn’t have minded diverting the course of the conversation by embarking upon an evolutionary debate on the subject. The Chief had a point though. North could have been on the other side of the law. The wrong side. Still had connections. Friends. The Chief had been digging deep. Maybe he had been a good cop once but now he was a bad manager.
    The Chief placed a couple of newspapers on the table and turned them round for North's benefit. The morning’s local daily, The Journal, lay next to a copy of that middle class mouthpiece, the Daily Mail. Terry Rawlins stared out of the Journal, Denise Lumsden joined him on the front of the Mail. The Mail had all the gory details. Miss Marple hadn’t wasted any time taking up his advice.
    ‘So, what do we know?’ the Chief said with a knowing look.
    ‘All we have are questions. It's–’
    ‘Well you better start providing answers!’ the Chief cut in. ‘Like how this is all over a national tabloid.’
    North’s face was blank. He reached for the paper. Skimmed the now familiar story. It blamed a lenient, failing system. Broken Britain. It went on to paint a bleak picture of the estate where Denise Lumsden had lived, a place where pensioners had been abandoned by the state, easy prey for drug addicts looking to feed their habits through burgling and mugging. There was a promise of an exclusive on Miss Marple’s own story, a story that had fallen on deaf ears at the local police station, at the local council offices, her MP, a story to be serialised on the centre pages. She’d done well.
    ‘She’s a tough old bird. Been complaining about the drugs and consequences down there without anyone listening. Looks like she found a friendly ear at last.’
    The Chief Super’s head went red. His chair banged into the wall behind him as he shot out of it.
    ‘A dead, drug addicted, drug pedalling whore has gotten this entire force all this negative national media attention. How did this happen?’ He was obviously saving up all of his PC for the cameras.
    ‘I gave her the talk but papers are begging their readers for stories. They have the contact details on every other page and everyone wants to be a celebrity these days, even grannies.’
    ‘I don’t want any more of your shenanigans. You do not talk to the media. Not ever! Not even a ‘No comment’, do you understand?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘And this case is not yours. You are back on light duties forthwith. Someone else will head this one up until DCI Mason is back on his feet.’
    ‘But –’
    ‘The only butt in here is the one residing about your shoulders, North. Things were bad enough when we spoke last night but now we also have an innocent victim on life support and a bunch of bullshit stories all over the media. The national media!’ he reiterated. He just couldn’t get past it. North felt bad about the car driver, but he couldn’t personally be held to account for that