Expose! Read Online Free Page A

“They’re talking about introducing loudspeakers, as well. Can you imagine—a voice coming from the void like God, ordering people to pick up their litter! Shouting at shop-lifters.”
    “That’s stupid,” said Annabel, “You’re making it up.”
    “No, she’s not. Do your bloody homework,” Pete declared. “Talk to the man in the street. Is the level of surveillance in this entire country becoming a nationwide Big Brother?”
    “You told me to focus on Gipping-on-Plym,” Annabel whined.
    “There’s a whole wide world out there! Do I have to tell you everything?” Pete rolled his eyes. “What’s your headline?”
    “How about, CCTV? REALITY TV?” I suggested.
    “Yeah. I like it. Good one.”
    “I was going to say that,” Annabel snapped.
    “Bloody hell!” Pete jumped to his feet. “Morning, sir.”
    “Carry on, carry on.” Wilf walked in, followed by Tony looking smug.
    Annabel and I stood up. She gave Wilf a flirtatious wave but was rewarded with a scowl as his good eye zeroed in on her short dress and lithe, tan legs.
    “No need to get up,” Wilf said. We promptly sat back down. “Tony tells me we’re all set for this week’s Gastropod bumper edition.”
    “Tony said that, did he?” Pete’s eyes flashed with fury. “Thanks for doing my job.”
    “He had an excellent idea about running a weekly column about the challenges of being a scrutineer,” Wilf said. “Readers can phone in with their questions and Tony will answer them.”
    Tony looked pointedly at Pete. “Should ramp up the circulation. People like to see their name in print.”
    “And who is going to man the phones?” Pete said. “Barbara doesn’t have the time.”
    “What about Vicky?” Annabel suggested. “With Whittler away, there’s nothing for her to do.”
    “As a matter of fact, I went to a funeral this morning, which was why I was late. Scarlett Fleming died.”
    “Good God!” Wilf ’s jaw dropped. “Wait a minute. You say the funeral has already taken place ?”
    “She was buried this morning in the family vault.”
    Wilf swung round to face Pete. “When did she die? Why weren’t we informed?”
    “No one told me,” Pete said with a shrug.
    “But, young Vicky seems to know all about it.”
    “One of my informers tipped me off,” I said. “I’ll get the full details later on today.”
    “Isn’t Whittler still in Florida?” said Wilf.
    I nodded. “Yes. But Douglas Fleming said she’d always wanted to be buried quietly with no fuss. He seemed in a hurry.”
    “There’ll be a backlash from the traditionalists.” Frowning, Wilf clamped his pipe between his teeth. “Old Fleming comes from a big Devon family. I suppose Ripley took her to St. Peter’s?”
    “No,” I said. “They used one of those new for-hire companies called Go-Go Gothic.”
    “Well, I’ll be damned!” Wilf ’s pipe clattered to the floor. Annabel darted forward to pick it up and passed it back to him with a grimace. Surreptitiously, she wiped her hand on the side of the sofa.
    “I never thought I’d live to see the day,” said Wilf. “ Here! In Gipping !”
    “Awful, isn’t it, sir,” I said.
    “Isn’t that kind of thing illegal?” said Annabel.
    “Not if they are following the rules implemented by the Funeral Planning Authority,” Edward declared. “Anyone can do it and frankly, with the economy as it is, I can’t say I blame them. Death comes to all of us and people tend to forget how expensive these things are. When my dad died, it cost Mum thousands of pounds to give him the whole shebang.”
    “I was thinking about doing an exposé on these new, cut-price services,” I said slowly. I hadn’t been, but it suddenly seemed a good idea. “It’s bad enough with big superstores like Tesco moving in and putting the corner shops out of business.”
    “We’ve got to move with the times,” said Edward. “It won’t be long until there’ll be virtual undertakers handling all the arrangements from