Evil Valley Read Online Free PDF Page A

see the house where the shooting happened. That was the next priority. But how?
    A chubby face, wild hair, a looming grin and an enormous telephoto lens suggested there may be an answer. Dirty El, shameless paparazzo, was heading over and he looked pleased with himself.
    ‘Hi Dan! You’re late. I was wondering when you’d get here.’
    ‘Ah, El. I should have known you’d be here first. One of your seedy little contacts tip you off, did they?’
    El wasn’t at all abashed. ‘It’s a profitable investment, making sure some hard-working officers of the law receive the golden bottles of single malt Christmas gifts they so richly deserve.’
    ‘Get anything good? The police aren’t letting us near the house and we need to get some shots of it.’
    El’s grin widened and he hopped from foot to foot. Dan sensed one of the photographer’s dreadful rhymes was about to be born. He wasn’t disappointed.
    ‘If poor El can’t fly,
    But he yearns for the sky,
    He must try out a spoof,
    To get him up on the roof,
    And pep up his cash flow to high!’
    Dan sighed. ‘Translation?’
    ‘They wouldn’t let poor El through the cordon either. But I have the advantage of this beautiful long lens,’ he giggled, stroking it lovingly, ‘and the old El charm and guile of course.’
    ‘What did you do?’ asked Nigel. El’s creativity in pursuit of a lucrative picture was legendary.
    ‘See that house over there?’ The photographer pointed to a semi-detached, modern building across the road. ‘Notice anything useful about it?’
    Dan studied the house. It looked absolutely average, except for the roof.
    ‘Have you been up in that skylight?’
    ‘Bingo!’ cried El, his grin widening. ‘Full house for the man on the TV. Got a lovely shot down the street to the house where the shooting happened. Lots of cops and forensics people outside too. I reckon I’m the only snapper with it. Should be worth a few quid to the papers.’
    ‘How did you get them to let you use the roof?’
    ‘Never underestimate the old El charm.’
    ‘Details?’
    ‘Well, the guy wasn’t too keen at first. But then I saw he had a For Sale sign up. The house had been on the market for a few months and there hadn’t been much interest, so I said – how about some professionally done photos, perhaps with a nice warm tint from one of my clever filters? I humbly suggested they’d make the place look a whole lot better in a brochure. He nearly bit my arm off.’
    ‘El, you’re a filthy genius,’ said Dan, with a sly glance at Nigel. The cameraman pursed his lips. He knew exactly what his friend was thinking.
    ‘I don’t suppose you could introduce us to the guy, could you?’
    ‘You are being a pain today,’ said Nigel, as they thanked their host, and walked back over to the cordon. ‘First guns, now heights. And you know I hate them. But you were right, the pictures were good. Right on the limit of what I could get with the zoom, but lots of activity, white-suited forensics people coming and going, and a few cops hanging about too.’
    ‘Good stuff,’ mumbled Dan who was chewing a ham sandwich he’d charmed from the man’s teenage daughter with the promise of a day’s work experience. He’d forgotten he was hungry until they were standing in the attic and he had a moment to think.
    One of the policemen on the cordon beckoned to the pack. They moved fast, some jogging over, some striding. Positioning was all in an ad hoc press conference. You needed to be close to the speaker to be sure of getting good shots and sound quality.
    ‘The Independent Police Complaints Authority Commissioner has just arrived,’ the officer said. ‘He’ll make a brief statement for you lot in a few minutes.’
    The pack formed a semi-circle in front of the police tape. Nigel and the other cameraman were in the middle with their reporters beside them, holding the fluffy, gun-shaped microphones. Next to them were the radio reporters, two now, and then the