The rest of the team were still in the office, processing paperwork, writing reports, taking the opportunity to sit down quietly and mull over the murder investigation. However, for Larry Hill, after a busy day out at the crime scene, following up with shooting clubs, checking who of those known to the investigation might have had an interest in shooting, his mulling consisted of closing his eyes and falling asleep.
Wendy Gladstone, also tired but not having the benefit of a couple of beers for lunch, was awake but sore, arthritis troubling her again. She sat with Bridget Halloran, looking over her shoulder as Bridget typed at the keyboard.
‘Any luck with car registration numbers close to where the shot was taken?’ Wendy asked.
‘Needle in a haystack, better to find the weapon,’ Bridget said.
Two minutes after Jaden came on the television screen, Isaac’s phone call woke Larry. ‘Put on the television, Jaden’s channel,’ he said.
‘We’re excited, ecstatic even, that Tricia is back with us in an exciting new format, a programme that will elate you, our friends,’ Jaden said. To one side, Tricia Warburton, even more provocatively dressed, her bosoms proud, the makeup thicker than ever.
Jenny, who had watched with Isaac, thought the woman looked tarty in a classy way. ‘She’s sold out if what you said about her is true.’
‘She admitted the clothes and the breasts were for the viewing public, but she’s ambitious.’
‘I can see why you like her,’ a nudge in Isaac’s ribs.
‘Purely professional,’ Isaac said jokingly. He still appreciated a pretty woman, and the woman on the television was undoubtedly that.
It was Tricia’s turn to speak. She was not as upbeat as Jaden, more subdued, reflecting on past events. Coached by Karen Majors and the ever-smiling Alison, who was, as Jaden had said at the meeting six days earlier, giving herself to Tom Taylor any way he wanted.
‘Pathos,’ Karen had said. ‘Show plaintiveness, a sadness about Angus Simmons. Don’t overdo it, don’t dampen the mood of the press conference, but humility goes a long way.’
Coached almost as much as an American president delivering a state of the nation address, Tricia spoke. She spoke of her fondness for Angus Simmons, his heroic character, his taming of Mount Everest, his commitment to the programme they had co-hosted, to the television station and the leadership of Jerome Jaden. The last statement a pencilled-in addition from the man himself.
‘Nice touch,’ Jaden had said, ‘shows that we’re a team dedicated to our viewers and each other.’
Bob Babbage, the company lawyer, careful to ensure that the wording of Tricia’s speech didn’t cross over the line from honest and heartfelt to probably criminal, had to cover his mouth with a hand at Jaden’s comment. Too many years with the man had long since destroyed any belief in Jaden’s interest in others; he knew him to be a money-grabbing bastard who’d shaft Tricia at the first hurdle if he could, ratings or no ratings. Even so, Babbage would stay for the foreseeable future, see which way the ratings went, whether Jaden could achieve what others thought impossible, work a miracle.
‘We’re in production,’ Tricia continued, ‘and our excitement is high, bringing you stories from around the world, giving me the chance to experience different cultures, diverse opinions. To show men and woman achieving great things; the family of man, or should I say persons, united as never before by what we’ll be bringing to you.’
Jaden took the microphone from Tricia who took the opportunity to pull down her dress.
There were more speeches, Karen Major putting in a none too subtle plug for her sales department. Tom Taylor wet behind the ears, but learning fast, giving a rundown on the exciting and innovative programming, a touch of the new with the old, streamlining as needed, expanding as required, cognisant of the viewers. It was clichéd but effective; Alison was watching from one side, proud of her man, loving towards him and of him. She was anxious to move on from public relations, to host a programme, Tricia’s if she faulted or became too demanding, more than willing to dress the same as Tricia, to do whatever was necessary. To her, Tom Taylor was in the bag, and he was making a go of it; he’d do for now, but one step backwards, and she’d re-evaluate.
A voice from the back of the room.
‘Jerome, Ashley Otway, The Sun newspaper.’
‘Yes, Ashley,’ Jaden replied. He smiled but knew that the conference was about to go south if he didn’t nip it in the bud.
‘We’re excited to hear of Tricia’s new programme.’ Ashley Otway knew that a gentle wind up was better than going full blast at Jaden.
‘Thank you, Ashley, for your remarks,’ Jaden replied, hoping to head the woman off, to wrap up the press conference, to get out of the room.
‘I’ve not finished. Jim Breslaw, removed at short notice, Tom Taylor, brought in soon after. A good decision?’
‘I believe so. Jim served us for many years, did a great job, made mistakes at the end, but times change, people’s viewing habits are not the same as before. New ideas, innovation, someone who understands the younger generation, a person savvy with social media. That’s what Tom’s brought with him. He’s integral, a force for change, positive change, he told us when we offered him the job. He’ll not let us down, I’m sure of it.’
‘The police believe that Angus Simmons was murdered. Doesn’t that concern you more than this hoo-ha we’ve seen here today. And isn’t Jim Breslaw implicated, the man who would have approved that stunt, now thrown to the wolves?’
‘Ashley,’ Jaden said, a broad smile on his face, ‘Jim was in error, not us. And besides, this is a police matter, let us not forget. I can’t speak about what happened, nor can anyone else here today.’
‘But…’
‘Ladies
