it.’
‘Is the beach safe? Should the public be worried?’ Emilia replied with hesitation. Helen could see her searching for the story, the sensation. But once again Harwood played a straight bat.
‘The beach is perfectly safe. I must stress that the body appears to have been buried several years ago – this is not a recent incident. The beach has been reopened and the public should feel free to use it as usual.’
‘Any leads, Inspector?’ asked Tony Purvis from the Portsmouth Herald , nipping in just ahead of Emilia.
‘We’re pursuing several lines of enquiry,’ Helen replied, ‘and we would ask anyone who knew Pippa Briers socially, or who worked with her at the Sun First travel agency, to contact the incident room. Any details – no matter how small – about her life in Southampton could be extremely helpful. She had several piercings and a tattoo, an image of which is in your briefing notes, which we believe was done during her time in Southampton. If anyone recognizes it or knows where it was done, we would ask them to get in touch.’
‘Any suspects? Anyone you’d like to talk to?’ Tony continued.
‘Not at this time,’ Helen said firmly. ‘But obviously we’ll let you know if that changes.’
Helen had debated long and hard about whether to release Nathan Price’s name to the press. But Harwood had urged caution and for once Helen had agreed withher. Naming him might drive him further underground, which was the last thing they wanted.
The briefing wound up shortly afterwards. As Helen was leaving, she felt a familiar tap on the shoulder. She turned to find Emilia Garanita facing her. They were old foes, but Emilia had nevertheless gone out of her way to be publicly supportive of Helen recently. During the investigation into the Ella Matthews murders, Emilia had seriously overstepped the mark, illegally tracking Helen’s movements during the hunt for the killer – and she was still eating humble pie because of it.
‘Any further titbits for the News ? We’d love to help in any way we can.’
Helen smiled inside. Emilia clearly found it quite a struggle to be friendly – full-frontal assault was her default setting.
‘Nothing yet, Emilia. But I’ve got your number.’
Emilia watched her go. She had had precious little from Helen since they called a truce a year ago and the pain of being nice was beginning to tell on her. She was working her ass off to get some new purchase on Helen, but it was abundantly clear that she was still frozen out. Irritated, she gathered up her things and followed the rest of the assembled journalists towards the exit. She’d hoped this case might be a way back in – a chance to get her career back on track – but already it was looking like another horrible dead end.
29
She was going to break his neck this time. She was going to march right in there and break his stupid neck. What a mug she’d been. Sticking up for him, lying for him, when all the time he’d been lying to her . About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with …
Angela Price’s fury was at fever pitch, yet still she hesitated. A girlfriend had tipped her off that she’d seen Nathan in Southampton city centre, when he’d specifically told Angela he would be working the week in Bournemouth. He’d probably been up to no good – boozing, chasing girls, being the faithless little shit he always was. Why did she put up with it?
She’d been round his usual haunts – the builders’ cafes, pool halls, drinking dens – and eventually found him in the Diamond Sports Bar. There he was – not thirty feet away – watching the rolling TV news intently, totally oblivious to her presence. Her hand was on the bar door, she could walk in there right now and call him out. Embarrass him in front of his mates, call him every name under the sun, let the world know what he was really like …
‘Out the way, love.’
A thirsty punter barged past her, irritated by her hovering
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