A Reconstructed Corpse Read Online Free

policeman.
    One of the silent ones was a thickset, mournful-looking man in his forties, who wore plain clothes and was tucking into the booze with a single-mindedness Charles could not but respect.
    The other wore uniform, with a few extra flourishes on his jacket which presumably betokened higher rank, and sat apart from the rest, nursing a beer. He was an older man, probably round Charles’s age, which in police terms must have put him near retirement. The attitude of his colleagues to him mixed a perfunctory deference with covert insolence. At times they seemed almost to be sending him up. From their banter Charles picked up that the man was called Superintendent Roscoe.
    The mob reserved their greatest derision, however, for the colleagues who actually appeared on the screen, and here there was no attempt at concealment. The figure who provoked most raucous response was the one introduced by Bob Garston as ‘our resident expert from Scotland Yard – Detective Inspector Sam Noakes’.
    â€˜Yeah, and we all know what she’s expert in, don’t we?’ shouted one of the younger policemen.
    â€˜Will you let me take everything down for you and use it in evidence, Sam?’ asked another fruitily.
    â€˜I’m afraid I must ask you to accompany me to the bedroom,’ giggled a third, bowled over by his own wit.
    The object of their offensive was certainly attractive, but there was about her a toughness which made Charles think they wouldn’t have made the sexist remarks to her face. DI Sam Noakes had red hair and those pale blue eyes which the television camera intensifies. Though a detective, she wore uniform, presumably because she looked so good in it. The entertainment element is always paramount in programmes like
Public Enemies,
and there are a good few male viewers out there who are turned on by – and will therefore turn on for – a pretty woman in uniform.
    Immediately she started speaking, it was clear that DI Sam Noakes was more than just a pretty face. She had a distinctive voice, deep, with a rasp of efficiency in it, as she enumerated the police successes prompted by the last series, and gave bulletins on the cases that remained unsolved. She was good, and her performance gained an extra glow from the fact that she knew she was good.
    Even the sexist banter in the hospitality suite recognised her quality. Through the innuendo ran a thread of respect, at times verging on awe. DI Sam Noakes was already a power to be reckoned with inside the force before television brought her skills to a wider audience.
    Public Enemies
was scheduled at prime time, ITV Thursday evening, just after the nine o’clock watershed which in theory protected children from sex and violence – and in fact encouraged them to stay up and watch it.
    The programme’s format was a magazine. Live updates on cases, reports on stolen goods, reconstructions of crimes and appeals for witnesses were intermingled with more general features. These were mostly consumer advice, presented with that distinctive smugness which characterises all television consumer programmes. The subjects covered might be a report on tests for home security devices, tips on how to recognise forged bank notes, lists of the right antique markets to check out for stolen property, and so on.
    But for the first programme of the new series,
Public Enemies
did something different. As Bob Garston put it grittily (he put everything grittily – he was constitutionally incapable of speaking without grit): ‘We’ve all watched a lot of television detectives, haven’t we, and I’m sure we’ve all got our favourites. But in fictional crime there are two traditions – that of the professional police detective conducting an investigation and that of the gifted amateur doing the business. On the one hand we’ve got, if you like . . . Morse – and on the other, say, – Poirot. Presumably, Sam,’