Turn a Blind Eye: A gripping and tense crime thriller with a brand new detective for 2018. Vicky Newham
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photographic paraphernalia, recording equipment and microphones. A rangy, pale-skinned man with red hair stood in front of a scrum of journalists and reporters. His arms made determined gestures as he tried to silence their questions long enough to be able to speak.
Steve scanned the scene for a colleague, someone he might recognise from yesterday, but saw no-one familiar. Shit. He’d forgotten to check his email this morning. He’d call Andrea. She’d know where they were meant to be. Before he could dial, a woman clocked him and sped over, waving and grinning and calling out. Long tendrils of black hair bobbed as she ran.
Before he had time to escape, she’d pinned him down. ‘I’m Suzie James . . . from the . . . Stepney Gazette,’ she stammered, out of breath from running but still able to flash her teeth, her head on one side in the sort of coquettish pose that Steve’s fifteen-year-old students adopted sometimes when they were late with their homework.
He stifled a groan. This was all he needed. To commit some dreadful faux pas to the press just to make his start at the school even better.
‘Are you staff?’ she simpered.
He got a waft of her minty breath. ‘You need to speak to someone from school management or the police.’ Steve felt flustered and cornered. ‘We’ve all been asked not to speak to anyone.’ He was just about to walk away when –
‘So you are staff then?’
He’d fallen into that one. ‘Sorry,’ he said, using his hand to indicate he wanted her to back off. ‘I don’t want to be rude but . . .’ and he accelerated his pace away from her.
Undeterred, she was running alongside him. ‘Do you know who found the head teacher?’
‘No comment.’
‘Do you think this has anything to do with the Pakistani girl who committed suicide last term? Or the boy who was stabbed on Christmas Eve?’ She was alongside him, almost running now, and puffing as she moved. ‘Thing is . . . if there’s a link . . . we have a duty . . . to keep the community . . . informed.’
Steve heaved in a breath. This woman was testing his patience. She was like a dog with a bloody bone. He was desperate for a fag.
‘Right, that’s enough.’ He wheeled round to face her. Leaned over so he was at her height and pressed his face near hers. ‘I’ve tried to be polite and you won’t take a hint. Now – piss off.’ He sped away, just catching her say, ‘Can I quote you on that?’
He shifted his thoughts to today. And school. He’d been about to ring Andrea.
Suddenly the reporter was at his side again, making him jump. ‘Here’s my business card. If you decide you want to talk to the paper, give me a bell. Yeah? I can make it worth your while.’ She pushed her hand at him.
Freaked out at the arrogance of her renewed approach, Steve stepped backwards and the fancy business card fell to the pavement. ‘Oops. Sorry,’ he said. ‘Clumsy me.’ And this time he thought about Lucy with her new boyfriend, and channelled as much menace into his stare as he could summon.
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