Page 47 of Dead Fall

There was a yawning pause while Charly considered her options. In the end she tapped at the phone, before turning the image to show Flyte. Leaning across the desk, apparently to get a closer look, Flyte’s hand shot out like a cobra to take it.

‘That’s better,’ she said, before tapping the edit button.

‘You can’t .?.?.’ Charly was open-mouthed.

‘Oh, what have I done?’ she asked Bacon.

‘It’s reverted to the original image,’ he said, peering at the screen. ‘Zoom it up?’ He gave a disbelieving chuckle. ‘I haven’t seen one of those since the school disco in 1976.’

Flyte sent Charly a concerned look. ‘It’s a love bite, isn’t it, Charly? Filtering and darkening the image makes it look like serious bruising.’

Charly had gone bright red.

Flyte handed the phone back.

‘It could be fingermarks,’ Charly protested. ‘I was only trying to get you lot to investigate properly.’

Streaky leaned towards her, elbows on the table, his face like thunder. ‘Shall I tell you what you’ve actually achieved? My officers have spent hours poring over other images of Bronte looking for signs of injury and reinterviewing all her close contacts to uncover any potential evidence of physical abuse. They found none. Nothing. Nada. Right now I should be out there’ – pointing to the door – ‘pursuing actual leads, not wasting my time investigating your .?.?. chuffing clickbait.’

His tone had become quite heated so Flyte cut in again. ‘I feel I should warn you that Ethan Fox’s solicitor has been in touch to ask if we have any reason to support this allegation of physical abuse. We have told him there is none. So, you might find yourself being sued for libel.’

‘And never mind a civil action,’ said Streaky. Looking up at the ceiling, he quoted from memory: ‘“It is an offence to cause a wasteful employment of the police by knowingly making a false report that they have information relevant to a police enquiry.” Criminal Law Act 1967.’ Turning to Flyte he said, ‘Remind me of the maximum penalty?’

‘Six months imprisonment,’ she said, making a sad face.

‘But it was just social media,’ Charly wailed. Her body language had gone from fearless to pathetic in the space of a minute. ‘What can I do?’ – opening her hands on the table in appeal.

‘If I were you, I would delete the posts and admit you were wrong,’ said Flyte. ‘And publicly apologise to Ethan Fox.’

‘Will I .?.?. be charged?’ – sending an appealing look to Bacon.

Ignoring her question, he stood up and said, ‘We’ll be in touch.’ Telling the uniform stationed outside the door to see her out.

As they took the lift back to their floor, Bacon sent Flyte an admiring look. ‘Has Ethan’s solicitor really been in touch?’

‘Oh, did I give that impression?’ asked Flyte demurely.

Bacon chuckled. ‘I’ll brief the press office to put it out there that we’ve questioned her, and that we’re considering pressing charges. With a bit of luck that might put the wind up the rest of these keyboard detective wankers.’

Flyte didn’t like the use of bad language, especially in a professional context, but this time, she felt able to make an exception.

*

Walking back into the incident room, they saw a huddle around Craig’s desk.

‘What’s all this then? A hen party?’ asked Bacon, going over.

Craig turned to him, looking excited. ‘Ethan Fox has been attacked by a couple of muppets in The Hawley Arms. It’s all over social media. He’s been taken to A & E.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cassie was on Dreamcatcher, heating up some leftover pizza for her tea when she heard a shout and a commotion from the towpath. Racing up above deck she was met by a shocking sight: Gaz wrestling a younger guy onto his back on the path.

‘What the fu—?’ she said.

‘Tea leaf,’ said Gaz, who was surprisingly wiry for a guy in his sixties. He pinned the guy down by his shoulders. ‘Caught him peering in through your windows’ – sounding a bit breathless.

‘Gaz, it’s OK, I know him,’ she said apologetically.

---