A Face in the Crowd Read Online Free PDF

darkness. But it was not to be. In the gray light of dawn, with gray, haggard faces to match, they trudged along the alleyway carrying a body bag and several large plastic containers. As they came between the tall Victorian houses into Honeyford Road where the dark-blue police van was parked, rear doors open, the pathetic figure of Nola Cameron, shivering, eyes red-rimmed, let out a shrill cry and went stumbling towards them.
    “Simone! Simone!”
    Standing by her car, Tennison watched the uniformed policeman on duty at the front gate step forward, barring her way. The pitiful cries rang out in the quiet street—“Simone, Simone! ”—as the body bag was hoisted into the van and the doors slammed shut.
    Tennison drove away, averting her eyes from the rearview mirror, from the terrible pain of the grieving mother. If it really was Simone Cameron in that body bag, she knew one thing for sure. All hell was about to break loose.
    There wasn’t time to return to the flat. She drove straight to Southampton Row, knowing that Mike Kernan would be hopping about like a cat on broken glass. The cafeteria didn’t open till eight thirty. She had to make do with a styrofoam cup of disgusting machine coffee to wash down three paracetamol, in the hope that she could keep the dull, throbbing headache at bay for a few hours at least. Going without sleep was part of the job, but she was no spring chicken anymore and couldn’t handle it as she used to.
    Kernan was at his desk, enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke, which wouldn’t do his ulcer much good, Tennison thought. With his heavy-lidded eyes and pouchy cheeks, he put her in mind of a grumpy chipmunk with a hangover. He launched right in, telling her about the meeting, that same evening, which couldn’t have come at a worst time. “It was all arranged weeks ago. I’m going with the Community Liaison Officer, guy named Patterson. I can’t back out now, but it’s going to be a nightmare. I want you to be there. Starts at eight.”
    Kernan sucked in a lungful, pushed his packet of Embassy her way.
    “No thanks.” Tennison shook her head firmly. “I’m trying to give it up.”
    “Christ,” Kernan muttered, in a state of shock. “Since when?”
    “Five days, six hours and . . .” Tennison gazed at the ceiling “. . . ’bout fifteen minutes.”
    Kernan was so impressed he stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another. “The meeting’s supposed to be to discuss community policing, but given what’s happening just now we’re sure to be dragged facedown through the shit about the Cameron family.” His heavy brows came together. “And Phelps is coming down tonight, and he’s bound to have the media in tow. That man can smell a vote-winner from fifty miles.”
    “Let’s face it, Guv—Nola may be jumping to conclusions but we can’t claim to have done well by her family, can we? Not if it turns out that Derrick was framed.”
    “Yeah, well . . .” Kernan was uncomfortable with the subject. “Let’s concentrate on the immediate problem. Is it the Cameron girl or not?”
    “I don’t know. And I won’t find anything out from Oscar Bream till tomorrow at the earliest.”
    The phone rang and Kernan snatched it up. His secretary informed him that Commander Trayner was on the line. “Right, I’ll hold.” He looked at Tennison through the wreaths of tobacco smoke. “If we knew one way or another before tonight’s meeting, our lives would be a whole lot easier.”
    Tennison nodded. “I’ll see if the forensic boys can shed some light. And I want the rest of the garden dug up in case there are other bodies . . .”
    “Jesus, what do you want?” Kernan growled, aghast. “Another Nilsen?” He stiffened slightly as the commander came on. “Sir?” He listened, nodding, his drooping eyes fixed on the desk blotter.
    “That’s right. I thought she was the very best person for the job. It requires tact and . . . well, I’m sure she’ll be able to