With a pang of guilt, Narey realised she hadn’t spoken to Corrieri since she’d charged her with working her way through the potential paddy38s she’d identified from the Jordanhill records. It was only seeing her approach with what would inevitably be a comprehensive history of everyone on the list, probably down to what they had for breakfast, that Narey realised she had neglected to tell Corrieri it had been none of them. Now she would have to burst the poor girl’s balloon.
‘Julia… ’
‘I’m sorry this has taken so long, Sarge. There was just so much to cover but I wanted…’
‘That’s okay, Julia, but…’
‘It’s been worth it, Sarge. I have quite a bit on everyone on your list and…’
‘Julia, will you just stop and listen for a minute,’ Narey interrupted her, sharper than she meant to. ‘Please.’
‘Sorry, Sarge. Sorry.’
Narey felt like she’d told a puppy off for bringing a stick back when she was the one who had told it to go and get it in the first place. The look of hurt in the puppy’s eyes pained her.
‘That’s okay. Look, I’m sorry but I’m not sure the guy we’re looking for is on the list you have.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. I’ve got some new information and a new name. It looks like we’ll have to start all over again. Well, you’ll have to start all over again. Sorry.’
‘Oh, that’s okay. I’ll start on it straight away. But there’s nothing in here you’ll need?’
‘Sorry, no. It’s another student at Jordanhill altogether. A guy called Bradley. He’s…’
‘Peter Bradley?’
Narey stared at her DC in surprise.
‘Um, yes, how did you know?’
Corrieri visibly brightened and delved into one of the folders clutched under her arm. As she did so, she dropped the bottom folder, blushing in embarrassment as it plopped onto Narey’s desk. She tried to pick it up at the same time as looking inside the other folder and had to wedge the lot against her for support. At last, she triumphantly produced a couple of sheets of paper that were stapled together.
‘Peter Bradley. Born 22 September 1970 in East Kilbride. Attended Halfmerke Primary School from 1975 to 1982 and Hunter High School from 1982 to 1988. He then went to…’
‘Why have you got all this information on Bradley? Have you got me details on every student that ever went to Jordanhill?’
Corrieri smiled shyly.
‘No, Sarge. I looked at the list of names you gave me as being potentially the paddy38 you were looking for. I did all of those but it occurred to me that list wasn’t… no offence, Sarge, but it wasn’t necessarily as comprehensive as it might have been.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Er… well, um. Anyway, I also looked at two Smiths, a Connor, a Grady, one with the first name Ryan, one called Maureen… and Peter Bradley. I hope that’s okay.’
Narey laughed.
‘Yes, Julia. It’s definitely okay. What have you got?’
Corrieri lit up.
‘Well…’
Narey patiently sat through Corrieri listing Bradley’s CV in minute detail, thinking the least she deserved was the right to share her findings. Narey knew the schools he’d worked in and positions he had held there were unlikely to be of much use to them but they would be itemised nonetheless.
‘He moved to Hillpark Secondary in 1988 but only stayed there for one year, which is fairly unusual, though there was nothing on his record to suggest there was any problem. He then taught at King’s Park Secondary from 1989, becoming Deputy Head of History in 1995. He held that position until 1998.’
‘And then?’
‘Then nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Her interest was piqued.
‘Nothing at all, Sarge. He resigned from the deputy head’s position and then we don’t know where he went next. His national insurance contributions stopped, income tax stopped, no record of social security benefits, no telephone line or bills. Nothing.’
‘Did he die?’ Her mind was turning over the possibilities.
‘No registry of death, Sarge.’
‘So where the hell did he go?’
Corrieri shrugged apologetically. ‘I don’t know, Sarge. Sorry. If I’d known it was him specifically that you were looking for, then I’d have delved deeper. I can…’
‘Christ, there’s no need to apologise, Julia. You’ve done well, although we can’t leave it there. Go and see what else you can turn up. If he isn’t dead, then there must be some bloody trace of him.’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
Corrieri hesitated and Narey realised there was more she wanted to say.
‘What is it, Julia?’
‘Well… there was something that I thought maybe you should know.’
‘What’s that?’
Corrieri looked more awkward than ever and Narey had a bad feeling.
‘This may not be right, Sarge, but I heard the information you wanted on the students might be related to an old case — the Lady in the Lake killing.’
Narey levelled her with a hard stare, all considerations of not upsetting the puppy vanishing completely from her head. Corrieri shifted uncomfortably from side to side under the searching gaze of her boss.
‘And where exactly did you hear that, DC Corrieri?’
‘Um, canteen gossip, Sarge,’ Corrieri admitted with more than a hint of a blush. Narey knew Julia was struggling a bit to cope with the macho nonsense that passed for banter round the station. She wouldn’t be the type for gossiping but was trying to fit in and would probably get involved in conversations she shouldn’t.
‘Who’s talking about this and what are they saying?’
‘Well, I… A few people in CID. I’d rather not name names, Sarge. The word is you’re looking into the Lake killing and you’re putting yourself out on a limb. That you’re… well, maybe getting involved in something you shouldn’t.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘Um. I think you’ll be doing what you think is the right thing, Sarge. I told the rest of them that too.’
‘Yeah, and I’m sure they laughed in your face.’ She looked at Julia and knew she was right. ‘So why are you telling me this?’
‘I thought you should know that people know. And if you want any help, then I’m here. In fact, um, I’ve actually already started.’
‘You’ve done what?’
Corrieri fidgeted with embarrassment again.
‘Well, I was going through all the databases for the names you gave me so I thought I’d maybe just take a little look back at the Lake of Menteith case and see if I could find anything that might help. I searched for a record of every missing girl to see if anyone fitted but didn’t come up with much initially. I’ve sent out requests to every force in the UK to ask them to search their case files for anything still open, even if it was a year or two before the body was found. I’m also in touch with the National Policing Improvement Agency’s Missing Persons Bureau, the Samaritans, the Salvation Army and Reunite. I, um, hope that was okay.’
Narey shook her head despairingly at Corrieri but a reluctant smile etched itself on her face. She marvelled that the girl could be apologetic about what were clearly natural investigative skills.
‘Yes, it’s more than okay. What have you got?’
‘More questions than answers,’ Julia admitted. ‘I’ve already had a lot of cases sent through to me and I’m just trying to wade my way through them, ruling out those that don’t fit because of time, height, weight, etc. I got a lot of information, too, from the NPIA and it makes depressing reading. According to them, there’s around 350,000 people reported missing every year. Of those, nearly two thousand are still missing a year later. Around twenty people are found dead every week after being reported missing.’