on our land, behaving in a suspicious manner. So he phoned the police. Who did
not
come out to investigate
. ’
Sollers paused. No mention of migrants this time, Bliss noticed. He knew that any hint of racism and the BBC would never speak to him again.
‘
… and even after the murder, I was appalled to be told by a senior officer that we could not have expected any more attention than we got
.’
Annie Howe and Terry Stagg both glancing at Bliss. DCs Vaynor and Toft exchanging smiles, maybe even smirks. Bliss scowled.
‘What was I
supposed
to say? Yeh, I’m really sorry, we should’ve sent an ARU?’
Rachel Wiseman-France was back.
‘
The point is that some police divisions have special squads for dealing with gun and knife crime and offences in urban ethnic communities. But rural crimes, time after time, go undetected, because too many police have absolutely no knowledge of life outside the cities
.’
Karen Dowell looked at Bliss, raising a despondent eyebrow, as shots appeared of uniformed police and SOCOs in Durex suits standing by a van at the entrance to Mansel Bull’s farm. The camera lingering for just an instant too bloody long on afull-length shot of Bliss pointing at something and smiling. God, he hadn’t noticed that first time round. Smiling at a murder scene. Bliss kept his eyes on the TV, knowing that every bastard in the CID room would be covertly observing his reactions.
What he saw next, as the picture cut back to the people in the restaurant, made him want to kick the screen in.
He turned away, nails digging into his palms, as Rachel Wiseman-France said, ‘
The last thing we want is to be accused of taking the law into our own hands. But are we really going to stand by and see our precious countryside turned into killing fields?
’
At a signal from Annie Howe, Karen cut the sound on the male presenter reading out a précis of the press statement put out by Elly Clatter about how West Mercia were fully committed to the policing of rural areas and nobody would rest until the killer of Mansel Bull was caught. Annie moved in front of the screen.
‘OK, you all know what we’ve said to the media. After what we’ve just seen, we all know it’s not going to be good enough, long-term. I have a meeting with the Chief Constable tomorrow, and I’d like to be able to tell him we’re moving towards a quick result on this. But… clearly we’re not.’
‘Killing fields?’ Bliss snarled. ‘Frigging
killing
fields? Who
is
that woman? Anybody know anything about this Countryside Defiance?’
Bliss looked at Karen Dowell, who shrugged.
‘Ask around, shall I, boss?’
‘There’s a new pressure-group formed every other week,’ Annie Howe said. ‘Probably latching onto this for their own political reasons, with the telegenic Mr Bull as a useful figure-head. However… they do seem to have the support of certain influential people in the county, which is obviously not going to make things any easier for us.’
Bliss looked at Annie, in her black Crown Court suit and her white silk shirt. His lover, now, unbelievably.
But his friend?
Later, in his office, Bliss showed Annie the letter posted to
The Police, Hereford
. ‘Gwyn Adamson’s inclined to think it’s a crank thing. I’m not sure.’
To the Detective investigating the Murder of Farmer Bull.
I cannot tell you who I am for personal reasons. While my girlfriend and I were parking at the entrance to a field last Friday night, we both saw a man covered with blood. He was coming towards us as I pulled in and when he saw us he turned and ran. I had the headlights on full and we saw that there was blood all over him. I am sorry that I cannot reveal my identity but I swear this is the truth.
I did not think to look at the exact time but it was about 8.00pm. This is all I can tell you. I hope it helps you catch him. I am unable to give you a better description of him because of all the blood.
‘This has been processed, presumably?’
not
come out to investigate
. ’
Sollers paused. No mention of migrants this time, Bliss noticed. He knew that any hint of racism and the BBC would never speak to him again.
‘
… and even after the murder, I was appalled to be told by a senior officer that we could not have expected any more attention than we got
.’
Annie Howe and Terry Stagg both glancing at Bliss. DCs Vaynor and Toft exchanging smiles, maybe even smirks. Bliss scowled.
‘What was I
supposed
to say? Yeh, I’m really sorry, we should’ve sent an ARU?’
Rachel Wiseman-France was back.
‘
The point is that some police divisions have special squads for dealing with gun and knife crime and offences in urban ethnic communities. But rural crimes, time after time, go undetected, because too many police have absolutely no knowledge of life outside the cities
.’
Karen Dowell looked at Bliss, raising a despondent eyebrow, as shots appeared of uniformed police and SOCOs in Durex suits standing by a van at the entrance to Mansel Bull’s farm. The camera lingering for just an instant too bloody long on afull-length shot of Bliss pointing at something and smiling. God, he hadn’t noticed that first time round. Smiling at a murder scene. Bliss kept his eyes on the TV, knowing that every bastard in the CID room would be covertly observing his reactions.
What he saw next, as the picture cut back to the people in the restaurant, made him want to kick the screen in.
He turned away, nails digging into his palms, as Rachel Wiseman-France said, ‘
The last thing we want is to be accused of taking the law into our own hands. But are we really going to stand by and see our precious countryside turned into killing fields?
’
At a signal from Annie Howe, Karen cut the sound on the male presenter reading out a précis of the press statement put out by Elly Clatter about how West Mercia were fully committed to the policing of rural areas and nobody would rest until the killer of Mansel Bull was caught. Annie moved in front of the screen.
‘OK, you all know what we’ve said to the media. After what we’ve just seen, we all know it’s not going to be good enough, long-term. I have a meeting with the Chief Constable tomorrow, and I’d like to be able to tell him we’re moving towards a quick result on this. But… clearly we’re not.’
‘Killing fields?’ Bliss snarled. ‘Frigging
killing
fields? Who
is
that woman? Anybody know anything about this Countryside Defiance?’
Bliss looked at Karen Dowell, who shrugged.
‘Ask around, shall I, boss?’
‘There’s a new pressure-group formed every other week,’ Annie Howe said. ‘Probably latching onto this for their own political reasons, with the telegenic Mr Bull as a useful figure-head. However… they do seem to have the support of certain influential people in the county, which is obviously not going to make things any easier for us.’
Bliss looked at Annie, in her black Crown Court suit and her white silk shirt. His lover, now, unbelievably.
But his friend?
Later, in his office, Bliss showed Annie the letter posted to
The Police, Hereford
. ‘Gwyn Adamson’s inclined to think it’s a crank thing. I’m not sure.’
To the Detective investigating the Murder of Farmer Bull.
I cannot tell you who I am for personal reasons. While my girlfriend and I were parking at the entrance to a field last Friday night, we both saw a man covered with blood. He was coming towards us as I pulled in and when he saw us he turned and ran. I had the headlights on full and we saw that there was blood all over him. I am sorry that I cannot reveal my identity but I swear this is the truth.
I did not think to look at the exact time but it was about 8.00pm. This is all I can tell you. I hope it helps you catch him. I am unable to give you a better description of him because of all the blood.
‘This has been processed, presumably?’
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