He hurried across to intercept his superior officer but Beamish had already been wooed by the prospect of appearing on Dorset Today, the local TV news segment. By the time White got anywhere near, they'd already clipped a lapel microphone to his uniform and trained a camera on him. White paused out of view of the camera. There was a reason he'd never risen further than the rank of detective-inspector, and this was one of them.
“We expect a swift arrest and conclusion to a thoroughly distasteful business.” Beamish smiled directly into the camera, showing off his perfect, Americanised teeth. He was the son of a diplomat, fast-tracked through the ranks to make the highest levels of authority before his thirtieth birthday. Rank might well bring its privileges, but privilege certainly bought rank. White wondered who'd briefed him about the case. It certainly wasn't anyone sympathetic to the victim's widower.
He looked across at the interviewer. Anna-somebody. He recognised the face but Beryl was the avid viewer. She'd know. The woman spoke into a microphone, mostly for show, since White could see she was wearing a lapel mike too. “What are the police doing to protect local taxpayers from this happening to them?”
Beamish didn't miss a beat. “This is an isolated incident and need not concern any of the other residents. I understand Mr. Cotman to be a personable man but one who generally kept himself to himself.”
“And what about the recent trend of youth drug culture?”
“That's being dealt with by our outreach officers and has no bearing on this case. As always, we urge the public to report any suspicious behaviour. Thank you. That will be all for now.”