‘Did you happen to glance at the morning papers on your way to work, Sarge?’ Cotteral asked. ‘No,’ Woodend replied. ‘I didn’t.’ ‘Not even the Globe?’ ‘Not even the Globe.’ ‘Well, the guv’nor’s seen it,’ Cotteral said, as his smirk widened. ‘Oh yes, he’s seen it, all right. And now he wants to see you!’ The chief inspector was sitting at his desk, with a copy of the Globe spread in front of him. When Woodend entered his office, he picked up the paper with his left hand, and pointed to the picture of Pearl Jones, prominently displayed on the front page, with his right index finger. ‘That’s the dead darkie,’ he said, unnecessarily. ‘Do you happen to know, Sergeant Woodend, how this hack – ’ he glanced at the by-line – ‘how this hack, Townshend, managed to get hold of the picture?’ ‘No, sir,’ Woodend said, forcing himself to do his best to sound convincing – but not giving a damn that he was failing. ‘Yes, I’d be very interested indeed to know how he got his hands on it,’ Bentley mused.
