Page 10 of Copper Script
“I’d rather not be in the papers at all.They will drag things up that don’t matter, and I’d rather just do my job.”
“Valentino, though?I wouldn’t mind it if the papers said I looked like Clara Bow.”
“I bet you would if they said it when they should be talking about a good collar,” Aaron pointed out.“And it’s rather insinuating, isn’t it?The lawyer accuses me of being in the Sabinis’ pocket and then the papers say I look Italian...”
“Do you think that’s it?”Challice gave thePictoriala quick scrutiny.“There’s nothing in here about the Sabinis at all, though, it’s just their New Faces section.”
“Oh.Well, that’s not so bad.”Aaron was perhaps a little over-sensitive on the subject of his family; skin tended to be thin where it had been previously rubbed raw.
“Really, I think it’s fine,” Challice assured him.“It does say you’re related to man-about-town Paul Napier-Fox, whose recent engagement—”
“I don’t want to know,” Aaron said from the bottom of his heart.“Please stop.”
“Oh, all right.It seems a bit of a waste, though.Half of CID is desperate to get their pictures in the paper and here you are with stories coming out of your ears and you don’t want them.Really, we should make the most of it.Put you on posters.DS Fowler, the Face of the Department.”
There was a snort from the door.It was Detective Inspector Davis, wearing his usual expression of aggressive disgust.“You and your lady friend admiring your press cuttings, Fowler?”
“Oh, that was just me, Inspector,” Challice said with the bright, friendly smile she usually adopted with Davis.“Was there something, sir?”
He didn’t trouble to reply to her.“DDI wants a word, Fowler.Now will do.”
Divisional Detective Inspector Colthorne was a tall, imposing man in his forties, distinguished if not handsome, with a shrewd air that suggested a stockbroker before he got complacent.He’d been promoted from Detective Inspector in C Division (Soho) a few years ago, and was now the senior officer of G Division (Finsbury, Islington, King’s Cross, and Clerkenwell).He had an authoritative rule but an easy manner with it, and was generally considered a good chief, a laugh when he wanted to be, though possessed of a wicked temper if you were fool enough to cross him.
Aaron didn’t quite share the general admiration.He’d been a constable under Mr.Colthorne in Soho before they both moved to King’s Cross, and never managed to get on with the man.That, he had to admit, was down to envy.He wasn’t easy or genial himself, didn’t have the knack of charm or banter, and probably could never have been popular anyway since he came with far too much baggage attached.Gossip about his father and his extended family always went before him, and he was wearily accustomed to the simultaneous necessity and impossibility of proving himself.Yes, my father was Terry Fowler, the union man.Yes, my mother’s family is upper-class as it comes.But I’m still a copper.
“Well, Fowler,” Colthorne said.“Congratulations.Excellent result yesterday.Good to get Melkin off the streets.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“A disgrace about that brief’s insinuations, though.This tactic of abusing an honest policeman and impugning his character ought to be severely punished by the Bench.”
The DDI had been the object of a similar accusation during the war years, Aaron vaguely recalled; clearly the experience had left scars.Aaron was grateful for the sympathy now.“Thank you, sir,” he repeated.“It was rather unpleasant.Of course the defence has to do what he can for his client, but to be accused of corruption or collusion with criminals—it strikes at the heart of why we do the job.”
“And, I’m sorry to say, that sort of slander follows a man around for a long time.Mud sticks.”
“I hope not, sir.What they said of me was entirely baseless.”The DDI’s brows drew together, and Aaron had a sudden, horrible feeling that he might have sounded as though he was implying something about other accused officers.“It’s often the way, if they’ve nothing else to fall back on,” he added hastily.“Grasp at straws to discredit the prosecution.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it grasping at straws,” Davis said.“You’re Italian: naturally the brief would see the Sabini connection.”
“I’m British, sir,” Aaron said evenly.“And my only connection to the Sabini gang is having arrested some of them.”
“Of course it is,” Colthorne said jovially.“There’s no point fretting about this sort of thing, Fowler; it’s just part of the game, and we all have to take our knocks, you as much as anyone else.And aside from that, you did well enough out of the papers.Flattering stuff in thePictorial.One for the scrapbook, eh?”
“Sir,” Aaron said, exquisitely uncomfortable.
“And worth following up, perhaps,” Colthorne went on thoughtfully.“The Press like a face, a personality.If they’ve latched on to you as the Valentino of King’s Cross nick, we could use that.Why should C Division get all the column inches?A monthly article, perhaps—”
“No,” Aaron said, the word coming without thought.“That is, I should prefer not to have anything to do with the Press, sir.”
Colthorne cocked a brow.“Come now.You must have given half a dozen interviews yesterday.”
“I gave the usual briefing after the verdict, sir,” Aaron said stiffly.“Nothing else.”He was doing this wrong, he knew.Colthorne’s tone was jovial; he was probably only joshing, and Aaron should be taking it as banter, but he couldn’t.“I really wouldn’t want to be in the papers,” he repeated doggedly.
Colthorne leaned back in his chair, assessing him with a look.“I’d have thought you were used to it.Firebrand Fowler and Bright Young People—”
“That’s nothing to do with me, sir.”
“Your family is nothing to do with you?”
