| "Let s just say that I d like to snatch that woolly wig off Mr. Justice Har- mon s woolly head and stuff it down his throat." Detective Chief Superintendent Alec Webster of Scotland Yard was white-faced as he spoke. His words brought a sudden hush to the small group of reporters who had surrounded him on the steps of the Central Criminal Court in London. After a few seconds one of them said, "Do you really want us to print that, Mr. Webster?" "Every word." "Think again, Alec." The speaker was Bill Parker, a senior crime reporter, whom Webster had known for years. "Want something a little tamer, do you?" "Yes--for your own sake." "OK. You asked for a statement. Here it is: I and my colleagues spent nearly two years bringing Johnny Corelli to justice. Now, after a trial lasting" almost a fortnight and costing heaven knows how many thousand pounds, he s walked away a free man. I consider that the jury s decision is the worst I ve known during twenty-five years in the Metropolitan Police. And I think the judge s summing-up was a disgrace to the British legal profession. Good afternoon, gendemen." The next day it was splashed all over the front pages, yaPa~ MAN Sta~S TmAL JUDGE was a fairly typical headline. Webster read the reports in three papers over his usual breakfast of black coffee a~d cigarettes. Then he found that, in addition, one of the gossip column~ had picked up his original remark about the wig and the woolly head Well, he couldn t com- plain at that: he d told them to print it. He sat back and thought. He didn t regret any part of the more formal statement. He d say the same again. But there could be no pretending the matter was over. Senior police officers just couldn t go round saying things like that about Her Majesty s judges. He d better get his oar in first. He went to the phone, rang the Yard and left a message to be given to the Assistant Commissioner s secretary when she arrived: Detective Chief Superinten- |
内容加载中，请稍后...
商品评论（0条）