Read Online Framed by Lynda La Plante - Free Book Online Page A

keen to see the root cause of so much sudden upheaval. Myers conducted himself calmly even though there was haste and a certain amount of roughness attending the procedures. No time was wasted at any stage. It was a major priority to have the prisoner documented, charged, and safely locked up as quickly as possible. More and more people were finding some excuse to pass through, everyone trying to catch a glimpse of the famous Edward Myers. There were a few throwaway remarks, mundane, stupid, fatuous—"That suntan won't last, Eddie!"—but throughout Myers remained aloof and impassive, watching with distaste the black ink rolled over his fingertips. He could see the officer's head shaking as he pressed each print down onto the sheets. He was offered a damp towel to wipe the ink off. He sat staring ahead as the mug shots were taken, right side, left side, full face. The whispering and murmurs continued as he asked if he could take a leak, make his phone call. No one replied and he was asked to stand and move away from the photographer. As he stood he was head and shoulders taller than most of the men ! around him.
The entire area went quiet, and slowly, one by one, everyone turned toward the new arrival. Detective Chief Inspector Jimmy McKinnes walked toward Myers, shadowed by his DI, Frank Shrapnel. They had come to formally charge him, everyone knew it, just as they knew McKinnes had virtually got down on his knees and begged to head the case. Rumors were running like a bushfire. McKinnes had reached retirement age and
should have, as some whispered, been put out to grass a long time ago, haw haw. But he had swung it, due to the fact that he had been in charge of Myers when he skipped custody and would thus be on top of all the previous information Myers had given.
The two detectives stepped forward and confronted the prisoner, Shrapnel a discreet step behind McKinnes. They worked as a team and although the master-servant nature of the relationship was obvious, they did look rather alike. Both were bald; Shrapnel had attempted a cover-up with strands of long side hair plastered across the top of his head. They were near-identical in stature and physique, down to such details as their potbellies and large feet. Both men smoked heavily, cigarettes in McKinnes' case, small cigars for Shrapnel, and their professional style—thrustingly physical, with rhythms of speech to match—suggested an identical permanent urgency, whatever they happened to be doing. In looks McKinnes was the more formidable; he was bearded, with disturbingly mandarinlike features and hard, probing eyes. Shrapnel had a more bland, fat-man's face, which made it easy for him to hide what he was thinking.
They stood staring at Myers.
"Hello, Mac," he said, smiling and nodding to McKinnes, ignoring Shrapnel. "Still got the same raincoat, I see. How have you been keeping?"
"In shape," McKinnes snapped. He jerked his head at the door. "Let's go."

The following morning Larry Jackson was summoned to the Superintendent's office. The interview was swift, too swift for Larry, who was finding himself more and more alert to brush-offs.
"Congratulations!" the Superintendent said brightly, then switched his attention to the papers on his desk. He looked up again, the matter of praise over and done with.
"Okay, Jackson, you've got two weeks' leave. Take it. Make up for your vacation."
Larry wet his lips. "I've got a lot of extra expenses," he said. "There were phone calls and—"
"We know, Sergeant. Just fill out the expense sheets as per norm."
The telephone rang and the Superintendent snatched up the receiver.
"It's not just that," Larry explained. "If Eddie Myers turns informer again ... I mean, I found him, I'd like to see it through. . . ."
"Yes," the Superintendent snapped into the telephone, "I'll be right with you." He put a hand over the mouthpiece and narrowed his eyes at Larry. "I'll keep it in mind," he said.
Larry had no option but to go.
At approximately