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.The urge was irrepressible.Dissolve, thump the table, slump on top of it, roll on the floor.Let go!But he couldn’t.He pinched himself – hard – using the table for cover, digging the nails of his left index finger and thumb into his inner right thigh, and squeezing as though his career depended upon it.Which it probably did.Pain shot through him.His eyes began to water.And the urge to giggle stopped.For two whole seconds.But he managed to get another sentence out.Holding Annabel’s picture up, he looked straight at the cameras.“Did anyone see this woman? Eah!”He had to look down again.He had to cover his squeak with a fist and a cough.And he had to keep pinching his leg.If he could just get to the end of his statement he could feign a pressing appointment and rush for the exit.He soldiered on, unable to string more than a handful of words together before having to pause.Not trusting his voice, not trusting himself.“We’re still looking for … the dead woman’s … handbag and phone.”A tear ran down his cheek.The pain from his thigh was excruciating, but he still needed to laugh.He’d explode if he didn’t.His eyes felt like they were bulging out on stalks.He was having to contort his face to prevent the world’s biggest grin from escaping.And a giggling fit that would last minutes, that would end his career.“They may have been … dumped on the roadside … as the killers escaped.Please look.”Another deep breath, another squeak, another gouge at his leg.And then he was lifting up the pictures of Annabel’s handbag and mobile phone.“Phone,” he said, another tear.“Handbag … That’s all … Pressing appointment.” It was all he could manage.And then he was pushing his chair back, and hurrying off the stage.He hit the wings and started to run – down the steps, through the door, into the corridor, and up the stairwell past the foyer – only stopping when he found the cloakroom, and threw himself into the first cubicle he found.Whereupon he collapsed, giggling uncontrollably, his laughter interspersed with high-pitched snorts.CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOShand was red-eyed but firmly under control by the time he returned to his office and found Jimmy Scott waiting outside.He took a deep breath and wondered how much trouble he was in.Jimmy turned and regarded Shand in what looked like wide-eyed shock.“I didn’t realise you were so emotionally involved in the case,” he said almost breathlessly.“I’ve seen emotional appeals from parents and spouses before but … never from the detective in charge.”Shand blinked.Had people mistaken his tears and facial contortions for grief?A plan articulated itself before he’d had time to think.“It’s a little trick I developed at the Met,” he lied.“Emotional appeals are three times more likely to achieve results than a straight forward request for information.Gabriel Marchant wouldn’t do it so…”“You faked that?” said Jimmy, his eyes widening farther.Shand rubbed his leg.“The trick is to think of something sad and pinch the hell out of your leg.Works every time.”“I’m astonished,” said Jimmy.“I’m … speechless.” And then he dived forward and grabbed Shand’s hand.“Let me shake your hand, Mr.Shand.It’s a pleasure working with a professional.”~The professional dived inside his office and closed the door.What was the matter with him? Every time he opened his mouth a new lie popped out.And as for the press conference – what had he been thinking!He slumped into a chair and dropped his head into his hands.What had possessed him? People had been making jokes all day – mostly at his expense – and he’d taken it all in silence.But as soon as the situation was inappropriate, suddenly he’s a music hall comedian! Did he want to fail? Was this what it was all about? Some self-destruct button that he couldn’t leave alone? Some ridiculous plan to make Anne feel sorry for him?Or was he in crisis? A mid-life ‘what’s it all about?’ job-changing, life-analysing, full-blown Tourettes, male menopause crisis?Or was he just tired and under stress? He’d barely slept for days, his marriage was God knows where, the case was baffling, he was beset by Gabriels, and he was in a new job in a new town.And then there was Kevin Tresco.There was something about him.All that sneering and criticism.It was so personal.Something he’d never had to deal with.He was the safe pair of hands
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