could be evidence, right?’
The requirement of the Scottish legal system for corroboration was the reason officers conducted interviews in pairs. Sometimes Karen felt as if she was attached to Jason by a judicial umbilical cord, perpetual parent to a slow learner. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s only background. I need to find out how the land lies. There’s plenty of experts we can wheel out if we need to spell it out in court.’ Karen opened the car door.
The Mint’s expression cleared, replaced by his usual bovine placidity. ‘OK. So, have I to go back to the office, then?’
She paused, one foot on the ground. Did he seriously think she would tell him to call it a day when it wasn’t even lunchtime? ‘Go through the files, make a list of the officers who worked the original inquiry and track down contact details for them.’
‘What?All of them?’
‘Just the CID, Jason. Start with the SIO and work your way down the pyramid. We need to talk to them, find out what’s not in the paperwork. You know how it goes.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘Sure thing, boss. The names they never write down, the gossip they never nail down, the theories they never set down.’ Another of Karen’s mantras that she’d managed to instil in him.
‘Exactly. Somewhere in there, the name of Ross Garvie’s dad or his uncle is lurking. He’s been walking around for twenty years thinking he’s got clean away with what he did to Tina McDonald. And we are his worst nightmare, Jason. We are always his worst nightmare.’ Karen pushed herself out of the car and closed the door behind her. She was done with talking to the Mint. Time for grown-up conversation.
She fully expected that from Giorsal Kennedy. Gus, as she’d chosen to be known to her friends, had never been a silly wee lassie. She’d always been thoughtful. She didn’t rush into things, always considering the possible outcomes before she made her choices. Even so, in a teenage world that valued conformity masquerading as rebellion, Gus had never been short of friends. She’d definitely been more popular than Karen, who hadn’t yet learned the techniques that these days spared Jason the rough side of her tongue. Back then, Karen had refused to suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. It hadn’t made her many friends, but she and Gus had always been pals. As she walked into the social work office, Karen surprised herself with a sense of happy anticipation. It had been a while since she’d felt something so uncomplicated.
Karen had expected a secretary or an assistant, but Giorsal herself came down to meet her at the reception desk. She hadn’t changed much. Her long hair was still obviously thick even though it was tied back in a ponytail, no apparentstrands of silver in the brown yet. She was still slim to the point of skinny, though she’d filled out more in the bust. That was what child-bearing did for you, Karen thought without a shred of envy. The severe rectangular glasses were new, though. They raised Giorsal’s status, making her look like someone who took decisions and made things happen.
As the two women stepped into an awkward hug, Karen wondered what Giorsal saw. How much had she changed from that awkward overweight teenager who never seemed to know what to wear or how to style her hair? Now she was a slightly less overweight thirty-something who still stared into her wardrobe with an air of bewilderment and still never managed to make her hair look the same as it did when she walked out of the salon. She had more frown lines than Giorsal, which surprised her because she reckoned social workers were one of the few groups who were exposed to even more horrors than cops were.
‘Karen,’ Giorsal exclaimed, holding on to Karen’s shoulders and stepping back from the hug to look her up and down. ‘My God, I’d have known you anywhere.’
‘Check you out with your scary specs,’ Karen said. ‘You’re looking good.’
‘Liar. You could pack
The requirement of the Scottish legal system for corroboration was the reason officers conducted interviews in pairs. Sometimes Karen felt as if she was attached to Jason by a judicial umbilical cord, perpetual parent to a slow learner. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s only background. I need to find out how the land lies. There’s plenty of experts we can wheel out if we need to spell it out in court.’ Karen opened the car door.
The Mint’s expression cleared, replaced by his usual bovine placidity. ‘OK. So, have I to go back to the office, then?’
She paused, one foot on the ground. Did he seriously think she would tell him to call it a day when it wasn’t even lunchtime? ‘Go through the files, make a list of the officers who worked the original inquiry and track down contact details for them.’
‘What?All of them?’
‘Just the CID, Jason. Start with the SIO and work your way down the pyramid. We need to talk to them, find out what’s not in the paperwork. You know how it goes.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘Sure thing, boss. The names they never write down, the gossip they never nail down, the theories they never set down.’ Another of Karen’s mantras that she’d managed to instil in him.
‘Exactly. Somewhere in there, the name of Ross Garvie’s dad or his uncle is lurking. He’s been walking around for twenty years thinking he’s got clean away with what he did to Tina McDonald. And we are his worst nightmare, Jason. We are always his worst nightmare.’ Karen pushed herself out of the car and closed the door behind her. She was done with talking to the Mint. Time for grown-up conversation.
She fully expected that from Giorsal Kennedy. Gus, as she’d chosen to be known to her friends, had never been a silly wee lassie. She’d always been thoughtful. She didn’t rush into things, always considering the possible outcomes before she made her choices. Even so, in a teenage world that valued conformity masquerading as rebellion, Gus had never been short of friends. She’d definitely been more popular than Karen, who hadn’t yet learned the techniques that these days spared Jason the rough side of her tongue. Back then, Karen had refused to suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. It hadn’t made her many friends, but she and Gus had always been pals. As she walked into the social work office, Karen surprised herself with a sense of happy anticipation. It had been a while since she’d felt something so uncomplicated.
Karen had expected a secretary or an assistant, but Giorsal herself came down to meet her at the reception desk. She hadn’t changed much. Her long hair was still obviously thick even though it was tied back in a ponytail, no apparentstrands of silver in the brown yet. She was still slim to the point of skinny, though she’d filled out more in the bust. That was what child-bearing did for you, Karen thought without a shred of envy. The severe rectangular glasses were new, though. They raised Giorsal’s status, making her look like someone who took decisions and made things happen.
As the two women stepped into an awkward hug, Karen wondered what Giorsal saw. How much had she changed from that awkward overweight teenager who never seemed to know what to wear or how to style her hair? Now she was a slightly less overweight thirty-something who still stared into her wardrobe with an air of bewilderment and still never managed to make her hair look the same as it did when she walked out of the salon. She had more frown lines than Giorsal, which surprised her because she reckoned social workers were one of the few groups who were exposed to even more horrors than cops were.
‘Karen,’ Giorsal exclaimed, holding on to Karen’s shoulders and stepping back from the hug to look her up and down. ‘My God, I’d have known you anywhere.’
‘Check you out with your scary specs,’ Karen said. ‘You’re looking good.’
‘Liar. You could pack
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