‘This is a nice place,’ she said, looking around at the restaurant, taking in the sky-high ceilings and the marble columns offset by the modern tones of wood and subdued lighting. It all added up to a luxurious feel. ‘Expenses must be better in Central than they are in Strathclyde.’
Croy grinned. ‘I wish. Expenses are virtually a distant memory. But I like it here and try to come when I can. It’s been all sorts of things, this building. It started out as a private mansion built in the early 1800s before it became a private school for girls. It was a Masonic hall for a while and when I was growing up it was a nightclub named Le Clique, then a fast food joint called Fat Sams and finally the Bank of Scotland took it over before it became this place.’
‘So how come you know so much about it?’
Croy had the good grace to look embarrassed.
‘Bit of a local history nut.’
‘You’ll know all about Lily of the Lake, then.’
‘Ah, straight to business,’ he smiled. ‘Fair enough. Yes, of course. I’d have been about twenty, I guess. I was at university in Edinburgh and the fact that it happened so near to home made it seem worse somehow. Everyone was talking about it. It wasn’t just that the murder was so brutal, it was this idea of someone going over to the island with her and not leaving a trace. I guess it spooked a lot of people.’
‘How long after that did you join the force?’
‘Four years. I suppose I’m a bit of a home bird. I came back to Stirling because I like it here. Family and friends are around and that works for me. It was tempting to try for a move to Glasgow or Edinburgh but I’ve somehow never gone for it.’
‘Maybe when you go for a chief inspector’s post.’
He laughed, his eyes creasing at the side.
‘Maybe, but there’s a CI post here I’ve got my eye on. Maybe when I go for superintendent.’
Narey realised Croy was only half joking and his obvious ambition made her realise how her own aims didn’t extend far beyond catching criminals and seeing what happened from there. She was like her dad: take care of the job and leave the ladder climbing to others.
‘So, did you ever work on the Lake case?’ she asked him. ‘Reconstructions, anniversaries and the like?’
‘A little. I was involved on the fringes of it when we did an appeal for information on the tenth anniversary of her death in 2003. We went back to the lake, a superintendent did a short piece to camera for Crimewatch, we stuck up some posters and did a round of interviews with the locals. It was all superficial stuff really though. Anyway, what’s your interest in the case? Kirsten didn’t say.’
‘That’s because she didn’t ask.’
‘I guess we cops tend to ask different questions than professors of life sciences. But I’m asking.’
There was no getting away from it. In fact, there was every chance Croy already knew about her link to the case. Whether he did or not, the time for covering it up had gone.
‘My dad worked the case. So I guess I’ve got a personal interest.’
‘Chief Inspector Alan Narey,’ he nodded. ‘I remember seeing his name in the case files. I never knew him but some of the guys who came through the ranks with me did. They said he was a very good cop. Don’t think I ever heard anyone say a bad word about him.’
The compliment slapped her on both cheeks, warming and saddening her. She wanted to ask more about what the cops had said but wasn’t sure she could cope with the answers. Instead she forced out a single word reply.
‘Thanks.’
‘So why now?’ he asked her, with an edge to his questioning that hadn’t been there before.
She sized Croy up, wondering who was supposed to be getting information from whom.
‘Detetective Inspector Croy, why do I get the feeling you already know the answers to the questions you’re asking me?’
Croy sipped the mineral water in front of him and looked at her over the glass as he did so.
‘Okay. So your name came up in Randolphfield after the woman in Wallace Place complained about you. It wouldn’t have registered a jot if it weren’t for the fact that you were a Glasgow copper. It put a lot of noses out of joint over here, I can tell you. If anything, it just made the people who matter all the more certain that, whatever you had to say, it was wrong. You know how territorial cops get and provincial forces are the worst of the lot.’
Narey said nothing. She knew it had been a risk. But she needed the support now.
‘Your dad was lead local investigator on the case and Laurence Paton was his chief — his only — suspect,’ Croy continued. ‘Paton dies and now you turn up wanting a cosy chat about facial reconstruction. Just how fucking noddy do you think we are over here?’
‘Not that noddy, I guess,’ she grimaced.
‘Correct.’
‘Okay, that’s me told off. So now can we stop buggering around and talk straight?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ he said, raising his glass of water in a mock toast. ‘So what’s the deal with Laurence Paton? You really think he was murdered?
‘Yes.’
‘Hm. That would be interesting. We don’t get anywhere enough murders round here. Would look good on the CV.’
She smiled ruefully at him, trying not to look impressed by his approach. He was cocky enough to flaunt the naked ambition routine and the cheeky sparkle in his eyes allowed him to get away with it.
‘So can we swing it?’ she asked, a hand carelessly toying with her hair. ‘I wouldn’t, of course, want to stand on any toes at Central Scotland Police but I do want permission to exhume Lily’s body.’
‘Of course you don’t and of course you do. I’d need to get permission from the Procurator Fiscal here but she’s generally receptive to sensible requests. Getting the okay from my guvnor might be a bit harder though. He’d want to make sure there was something in this for us otherwise he’d just propose we do the whole thing ourselves.’
Narey knew he was only testing her as part of a prelude to a bargaining process but the suggestion of taking it away from her still caused her stomach to knot.
‘I’m sure there’s no need to inflict an even greater workload on your force than I’m sure it’s under already.’
‘We like hard work,’ Croy smiled. ‘We can always find the time to do more.’
‘Perhaps a venture of cooperation is the way forward,’ she relented. ‘After all, Laurence Paton, however he died, died on your patch.’
‘So, if we give the go-ahead for Lily to be exhumed, then you’ll give us what you have on Paton’s death and any possible murder inquiry?’
‘Of course,’ she lied without a glimmer of guilt.
‘In that case, we’d be grateful for Strathclyde’s input into the identification of the girl on Inchmahome.’
‘Thank you,’ Narey said, extending her hand.
‘You sure you don’t want a glass of wine with your lunch?’ Croy asked, shaking her hand for a heartbeat longer than was necessary. ‘You could have one.’
‘As a police officer, you should be aware that one shouldn’t drink any alcohol at all if intending to drive. But okay, a glass of white — just one.’
‘Perfect. In that case, I’d recommend the Petit Chablis to go with the seared scallops with Stornoway black pudding. It’s superb.’
‘Hm. Black pudding? Not for me,’ she replied. ‘I don’t really have a taste for blood.’
CHAPTER 35
Julia Corrieri had bounded into Narey’s office space with such enthusiasm that the DS had to stifle a giggle at the sight of her. With her mop of dark hair and ungainly stride, a pile of folders under her arm, the tall and gangly DC could have walked straight out of double maths and be on her way to PE. She wore a bashful grin Narey now knew to mean she was pleased with herself.