‘What’s their tag?’
‘SpecterCipher393, but give me a few days and I’ll be able to tell you their real name.’
25
The rumoured death of a convicted serial murderer turned innocent until proven guilty defendant had commanded an audience. Reporters and photographers had turned up early for the press conference that would finally confirm that the woman seen hanging from the pier all over social media was indeed Sian Fox-Carnell. The queue had been diverted from the main entrance on Lewisham High Street and into Lewisham police station car park. Mounted police, their horses still but on alert, watched the crowd as they waited for the rear gates to open.
‘We’re going to have to use the room next door as an overflow,’ Pellacia said.
‘It would have made more sense to have the press conference at the Yard,’ Ramouter answered, flicking through the file that contained his case notes.
‘The Yard want to keep this case at arm’s length. Fox-Carnell is a pariah. You can’t ask people for sympathy for a woman who has already been convicted of multiple murders and attempting to murder a kid. Much better to have us sitting in front of the cameras appealing for help and making a fool of ourselves and not the assistant commissioner.’
‘Fox-Carnell is hardly the perfect victim,’ Pellacia continued. ‘And neither is Tabitha Ashcroft. We’ve got two victims who, in the public’s eyes, have got away with murder.’
Ramouter saw a familiar but unwanted face. ‘You have got to be joking, he sighed. ‘I’ll meet you inside, guv.’
‘I am a member of the free and independent press,’ intoned Ben. ‘I have a right to be here and a right to report the news.’
‘And I’ve told you before that you are not on the list. Just because you ordered an ID card with press written on it from the internet doesn’t mean you can just walk in here,’ said the civilian officer at the signing in desk. ‘Now leave voluntarily or I’m going to have you escorted out.’
‘You’re breaching my rights,’ Ben insisted.
‘No one is breaching your rights,’ said Ramouter, taking hold of Ben’s arm and escorting him away.
‘Mate, what are you doing?’ Ben protested as he unwittingly allowed himself to be pulled out of the queue and back into the car park.
‘Stopping you from getting arrested,’ Ramouter replied, opening the gate. ‘You are going to get into a lot of trouble if you keep pushing yourself into uninvited spaces. Do you understand me?’
Ben shook off Ramouter’s hand. ‘Do you know who I am?’ he asked. ‘Do you know how many followers I have.’
‘398,000.’
‘So, you’ve seen my channel then?’ Ben smirked. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s not. It’s dangerous and full of misinformation.’
‘I’m giving the people what they want because you lot are no longer the good guys.’
Ramouter felt a low burning rage swell inside of him as Ben’s words touched a nerve. The battle of showing that the police were for the people was proving much harder to fight these days. He shut the gate.
‘You can’t stop us,’ Ben shouted.
Ramouter turned around and found himself facing DC Copeland, her face flushed as though she’d just run a race.
‘Looks like you had your hands full just then,’ she said, removing her jacket and unclipping her covert police vest.
‘Just a pain in my arse who tried to blag his way into the press conference, that I need to get to actually,’ Ramouter replied.
‘Is this for the Ashcrofts?’ Copeland asked in a tone that suggested to Ramouter that she knew exactly what the press conference was about.
‘And Fox-Carnell,’ he said, pushing the main door open. He checked that the corridor was empty of any reporters before continuing. ‘There are similarities, both forensically and evidentially that suggest the person who attacked the Ashcrofts also killed Fox-Carnell.’
Copeland’s mouth formed a wide O as her eyes brightened. ‘I need to sit in. In the conference I mean.’
‘I think it’s standing room only.’
‘I’ll just come with you and hang out at the back.’
