Nothing but Memories (DCI Wilson Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

for the last ten minutes of the programme to accelerate. 
                  "On  the home front," the news reader continued over a picture of Stormont Castle. “The Alliance Party has renewed its demand for the setting up of a South African style ‘Truth and Reconciliation Commission’. Lord Alderdice said that the Commission should have the widest possible remit to examine some of the atrocities carried out during the ‘Troubles’. He believes that without the severest examination of the actions of all the parties now involved in the political re-construction of the Province, the process of healing the wounds of sectarian strife will not be fully attained. The Unionist majority and Sinn Fein have expressed themselves as being sceptical to such a development. A spokesman for the Unionist Coalition said that the members of his Party believed that there was little to be gained from raking over the events of the past. The proposed Truth and Reconciliation Commission might in fact be counter-productive and lead to a return to conflict.” The picture changed to the wet Belfast street which Wilson had left some time before. "In Belfast this evening, a man has been murdered." The camera panned across the scene of the shooting catching the PSNI officers in their flak jackets cradling their machine guns. Deep red cranial blood still stained the rain washed path. The corpse had been removed before the arrival of the television crew but the cameraman made up for the deficiency of a body by the close-up of the bloody footpath. The face of a well-known politician appeared on the screen mouthing the usual anodyne crap about 'heinous crimes and a population under threat, will this butchery never end etc.'. He had seen the same face wheeled on time after time. Perhaps only one tape existed which the television station played for every murder. He looked for the legend ‘library pictures’ on the screen but didn’t find it. "The PSNI Press Office has stressed,” the newscaster continued. ”That there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that the murder was motivated by sectarianism. A team of crack Murder Squad detectives has already been assigned to the case and every avenue of enquiry would be explored.”
                  Wilson raised his beer and toasted the screen as the news reader smoothly moved to the next story. God bless the good old Press Office. Thirty odd years of practice had made them experts at passing the right message. Now was the time to assuage the fears of the man in the street. Don’t panic, folks. There certainly wasn’t a vicious sectarian killer on the loose. Don’t worry. The bad old days will never come again. It was his misses what done it. Blew his head off and then gave him another one for good measure. In a pig’s arse, he thought. Somebody had wanted that poor bastard dead and the man who had pulled the trigger knew what he was about. This wasn’t a random sectarian kill.
                  He didn't even get his ten minutes, he thought. The first sectarian killing rated ten minutes, the five hundredth ten seconds. He picked up the remote control and was about to press the off button when the weather map appeared on the screen. The satellite picture showed banks of dirty black clouds spreading from Newfoundland to Ireland. They were in for a prolonged period of `typical' Irish weather. He flicked the ‘off’ button on the remote control and watched the screen go progressively blank. There would be no solace from television. He picked up a Stephen King novel from the coffee table and started towards the bedroom. He needed a good belt of unreality.
     
     

CHAPTER 4
     
     
    Case watched the same newscast on his small television and laughed out loud. He filled himself another glass of Bushmills and toasted the newsreader.
                  "Thanks mate," he said and drained the glass, "you've just proved that you can fool all of the people all of the