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“I’ve done everything I can officially, guv,” he said. “I can see you think I’ve lost it. But there’s something wrong with Do
Chapter Fourteen
“Do
“But that’s exactly what we did make her six months ago,” Laura said, spreading a copy of her feature on the opening of the Project in front of the editor. “You even wrote an editorial about her saying she was just the sort of feisty, enterprising person the Heights needed to pull itself out of the mire. People ready to make an effort instead of waiting for the State to provide, don’t you remember? Don’t you think our readers deserve some sort of explanation now she’s dead?”
“I don’t suppose our readers will remember a word we said about her,” Grant said airily. “Anyway, she’s obviously run right off the rails since then.” He spun his chair round sharply on its castors and projected himself with remarkable speed for a heavy man towards the door of his office.
“Bob!” he bellowed across the newsroom. “Spare us a minute, lad, will you?” Bob Baker appeared in the doorway at a velocity to rival the editor’s.
“This Maitland woman,” Grant said. “What’s the score with the police?”
“Not looking for anyone else in co
“Who told you that?” Laura asked. “It’s not the way I hear it.”
Baker tapped his nose and gri
“Sources, my love, sources. Maybe mine are better than yours.”
“According to Laura, she doesn’t have any police sources,” Grant said, his eyes sharp with malice. “Nowt so much as a comment on the state of the traffic on the Aysgarth Lane roundabout ever passes the Detective Chief Inspector’s lips. Allegedly.”
Baker shrugged.
“I’ll let you know if anything new develops, boss,” he said.
“So that’s a no then, is it?” Laura asked the editor.
“Of course it’s a bloody no,” Grant said. “You can’t pretend the woman was never arrested, and from what Bob says, was highly likely to be charged. Even if she wasn’t into drugs herself she knew the sort of kids she was dealing with. It was down to her to keep tabs on the little beggars when they were on the premises, wasn’t it? That’s the law. I’ve told you before. Zero tolerance is what the Heights needs, and if that’s what the drug squad is doling out now then that’s fine by me, and by the readers, if the letters we get are owt to go by. Do
Her face set, Laura folded up the paper, from which Do
“Give us a couple of pars on what’s likely to happen to the Project now she’s gone,” Ted Grant conceded unexpectedly as Laura got up to go. “As I hear it, it’s not got much of a future once the redevelopment gets under way. Barry Foreman and Dave Spencer’ve got other plans for education and training up there. Summat a bit less amateur. You should be pleased about that.”
“Barry Foreman’s an expert on these things now, is he?” Laura snapped.
“He’s not daft, isn’t Barry,” Grant said. “That business of his seems to be growing by leaps and bounds. He’s got money to burn and he might as well put a bit of it back into summat useful. You and your lefty friends should approve of that.”
“Me and my lefty friends might just be a tad suspicious where the money’s coming from before accepting it,” Laura shot back tartly. “You’d think there’d been enough dodgy donations to political projects recently to persuade even Dave Spencer to take care.”
“Bright lad, that,” Ted said. “The next Tony Blair, I shouldn’t wonder. He’ll go far.”
“One way or another,” Laura said, under her breath, recalling her grandmother’s fury at the council leader’s equivocations.
“Get a quote out of him, any road. But keep it short. I’ve not got space to spare for sob stories from the Heights just now. They want to think themselves lucky up there. At least they’ll be keeping their feet dry. They’ve got flood warnings out at Lane End. If this rain doesn’t stop soon we’ll have half the town under water by the weekend.”
“Right,” Laura said. She went back to her desk and bi
On the rain-swept upper walkway of Priestley House, Kevin Mower pulled up his collar and banged hard on the door of the flat two doors along from Do
He had woken from a restless sleep very early and stood at the back window of his flat gazing down at the scruffy garden where his downstairs neighbour’s German Shepherd dog was already snuffling along the muddy tracks he had worn around the boundary fence. Barely able to see the loping animal in the grey dawn light as it nosed around bushes beaten down by the rain and left its mark at regular intervals, he had gone over and over in his mind what he had observed when he had discovered Do