Read Online Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) by Peter Carroll - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Carroll
Ads: Link
pundit, then qualified as a sports journalist, but gradually branched out into other areas over the years. The opposite of that Sting song – a New Yorker in England.
His physicality and accent were not the only things that made him obvious. Floyd Callahan had a penchant for wearing brightly coloured trainers in combination with a designer suit. Stark thought he might have taken the concept of smart/casual a little too far. Callahan insisted it allowed him to sit at a dinner table and look good, but when a story broke, he'd be first there because he could run. A logic...of sorts.
As Stark approached, Callahan swivelled instinctively on his heel, broke out his best Cheshire Cat grin. It was no use, as much as Stark disliked the majority of journalists, he couldn't help but warm to this gangly, eccentric hack. After all, he wasn't a proper journalist - well not in the sense of what most people would consider one to be. Stark reciprocated.
“Hey, Floyd. How the hell did you find out about this?”
The goofy giant's smile stretched to breaking point and he tapped the side of his nose.
“Now, now, Adam, you know a good journalist never reveals his sources!”
“Well, you can tell me then coz you're not a good journalist!” quipped Stark in response.
“Touché, Starky, touché! How the devil are you anyway my friend?”
They shook hands warmly, tapping each other on the right elbow with their left hands. A sort of slightly more professional, manly version of a hug.
“Well, I would be a lot better if I was still in my bed instead of dealing with this kind of crap at seven-thirty in the morning!”
Stark scanned around and spotted Katz; squatting down track-side, deep in conversation with one of the forensics guys. She'd beaten him to the punch again. Every crime scene they'd covered recently, she seemed to have the jump on him. It elicited a stab of paranoia. Was she out to show him up? Ridiculous. She merely tried harder than the average trainee to impress him and his superiors. It annoyed Stark but she provoked diaphanous unease in him. Despite working together for a few weeks, she'd told him nothing of her private life and made no enquiries about his. A kind of cold detachment, bordering on aloof. If she wasn't so damned hot, he'd find it easier to dislike her for it.
“Sorry, Floyd, I'll catch up with you in a bit. Need to go and talk to my partner, see what the lie of the land is.”
“Ok, Starkmeister. No problem. Once you know some more, you can come and tell me all about it,” said Callahan, winking as he did so.
Stark smiled, shook his head, lowered himself off the platform onto the track and made his way over to Katz.
His inscrutable workmate looked over her shoulder as he approached and stood up.
“Hi, sir. Meet Calvin Jacobs: victim number three of our vigilantes.”
“What? Really? What is it this time - train was late so they offed the driver?”
Katz didn't even crack a hint of a smile.
“Nope, he's an investment banker in the city. They shoved him out in front of the train as it pulled into the station. Hundreds of witnesses and no-one saw anything.”
“How do we know he was shoved? Maybe it was suicide? These places are a zoo at rush hour. It could have been an accident. Jeezo, it's always amazed me it doesn't happen more often.”
“Yeah, I agree that would be a likely scenario, but there's another note. This time in the pocket of the victim. Brazen sonofabitches must have stuffed it in before shoving him off the platform.”
“Holy shit! This is escalating. What the hell are they going to pull next?”
Katz put her hands on her hips.
“Well, I can give you a clue. How do you think your lanky friend got here? He's not likely to turn up for a bog-standard suicide now is he, sir?”
Stark pushed out his bottom lip and looked back toward Callahan. Heat flushed through his cheeks. Of course - the bad guys decided they needed more publicity for their cause. Callahan and the
His physicality and accent were not the only things that made him obvious. Floyd Callahan had a penchant for wearing brightly coloured trainers in combination with a designer suit. Stark thought he might have taken the concept of smart/casual a little too far. Callahan insisted it allowed him to sit at a dinner table and look good, but when a story broke, he'd be first there because he could run. A logic...of sorts.
As Stark approached, Callahan swivelled instinctively on his heel, broke out his best Cheshire Cat grin. It was no use, as much as Stark disliked the majority of journalists, he couldn't help but warm to this gangly, eccentric hack. After all, he wasn't a proper journalist - well not in the sense of what most people would consider one to be. Stark reciprocated.
“Hey, Floyd. How the hell did you find out about this?”
The goofy giant's smile stretched to breaking point and he tapped the side of his nose.
“Now, now, Adam, you know a good journalist never reveals his sources!”
“Well, you can tell me then coz you're not a good journalist!” quipped Stark in response.
“Touché, Starky, touché! How the devil are you anyway my friend?”
They shook hands warmly, tapping each other on the right elbow with their left hands. A sort of slightly more professional, manly version of a hug.
“Well, I would be a lot better if I was still in my bed instead of dealing with this kind of crap at seven-thirty in the morning!”
Stark scanned around and spotted Katz; squatting down track-side, deep in conversation with one of the forensics guys. She'd beaten him to the punch again. Every crime scene they'd covered recently, she seemed to have the jump on him. It elicited a stab of paranoia. Was she out to show him up? Ridiculous. She merely tried harder than the average trainee to impress him and his superiors. It annoyed Stark but she provoked diaphanous unease in him. Despite working together for a few weeks, she'd told him nothing of her private life and made no enquiries about his. A kind of cold detachment, bordering on aloof. If she wasn't so damned hot, he'd find it easier to dislike her for it.
“Sorry, Floyd, I'll catch up with you in a bit. Need to go and talk to my partner, see what the lie of the land is.”
“Ok, Starkmeister. No problem. Once you know some more, you can come and tell me all about it,” said Callahan, winking as he did so.
Stark smiled, shook his head, lowered himself off the platform onto the track and made his way over to Katz.
His inscrutable workmate looked over her shoulder as he approached and stood up.
“Hi, sir. Meet Calvin Jacobs: victim number three of our vigilantes.”
“What? Really? What is it this time - train was late so they offed the driver?”
Katz didn't even crack a hint of a smile.
“Nope, he's an investment banker in the city. They shoved him out in front of the train as it pulled into the station. Hundreds of witnesses and no-one saw anything.”
“How do we know he was shoved? Maybe it was suicide? These places are a zoo at rush hour. It could have been an accident. Jeezo, it's always amazed me it doesn't happen more often.”
“Yeah, I agree that would be a likely scenario, but there's another note. This time in the pocket of the victim. Brazen sonofabitches must have stuffed it in before shoving him off the platform.”
“Holy shit! This is escalating. What the hell are they going to pull next?”
Katz put her hands on her hips.
“Well, I can give you a clue. How do you think your lanky friend got here? He's not likely to turn up for a bog-standard suicide now is he, sir?”
Stark pushed out his bottom lip and looked back toward Callahan. Heat flushed through his cheeks. Of course - the bad guys decided they needed more publicity for their cause. Callahan and the
Similar Books
