appeared between her eyes. ‘Who?’
‘Tracey-Anne Geddes, ma’am. She was found when we were patrolling the drag.’
‘Oh, God.’ Helen turned away so that her young colleague could not see the sudden tears. She blinked rapidly before facing the girl once more.
‘Who’s the SIO in charge?’
‘That’s just it, ma’am,’ Patricia told her. ‘It’s gone up to Serious Crimes. Detective Superintendent Lorimer has taken it on now.’
‘Lorimer … ’ Helen sighed heavily, sinking back into the comforting softness of her bank of pillows. ‘Well, that’s some relief.’
‘Who is he, ma’am?’ Patricia Fairbairn asked, coming forward to scrutinise her boss’s face. She’d expected a sudden fury from the SIO, outrage at the very least that the case that had commanded so many man hours was being shipped off to Serious Crimes.
Helen James turned to the young policewoman and gave a smile that lit up her face, softening all its harsh lines and angles. ‘William Lorimer is one of the best senior officers around,’ she said. ‘And you’ll find that out, young lady, if you’re ever lucky enough to be part of his team.’
‘Professor Brightman,’ the officer behind the desk smiled at the bearded man standing waiting for his security pass. ‘Good to see you, sir.’
Solly nodded and smiled. The officer had recognised him from the previous visits he had made to this building, often to discuss the finer points of a case with the hierarchy that comprised the top brass here in Pitt Street. But now he was here at the behest of the man who was heading up the Serious Crimes Squad.
‘Solly!’
He turned to see a tall man who was crossing the foyer and, before he knew it, his hands were enfolded in a firm grasp.
‘Lorimer. Hello,’ Solly said, smiling as he nodded at his friend.
‘Come on up,’ Lorimer told him. ‘See my new domain,’ he chuckled. The two men chatted as they ascended the stairs to the upper floor where the Serious Crimes Squad had its share of a long corridor.
DETECTIVE SUPERINTENDENT LORIMER was emblazoned in gold lettering on the wooden door, Solly noticed. He nodded to himself, recognising that this man’s promotion was well deserved given his track record. And, he thought to himself, who better to head up a unit devoted to serious crimes than the man whose determination and skills had solved so many of them?
‘Not bad,’ the psychologist smiled, looking around the room. It was fairly large and airy, given that the blinds were pulled all the way up and the winter sun was making a valiant attempt to penetrate this side of the building. Two easy chairs flanked a low coffee table and the detective superintendent’s desk dominated one end of the room, its blond wood already piled with papers and files.
‘Hard at it already?’ he asked, pointing at the mass of paperwork.
‘Aye, plenty for me to do and, as usual, never enough time in which to do it, but at least I’ve got my own manpower and the ability to call on various divisions within the force.’ Lorimer grinned.
‘You haven’t put up any pictures yet,’ Solly remarked, his eyes scanning the walls that were bare of any decoration save a large calendar depicting a Scottish scene.
‘Michael MacGregor?’ he asked, recognising the photographer who had taken the snowy landscape.
‘Yes,’ Lorimer replied. ‘Once again my dear wife has given me something for Christmas that she knows I’ll enjoy. He paused for a moment, looking at the photograph of Rannoch Moor. MacGregor was his favourite Scottish photographer, his ability to capture the magical qualities of a landscape something that the policeman greatly admired. ‘Och, I’ll get around to putting up my prints sometime,’ he told Solly, cocking his head at the stack of pictures propped up in a corner, still in their brown paper wrappings. ‘Have to make do with this and the charts for now.’
He strolled over to a large map of Glasgow taped to the wall to one side of his desk and indicated four red rings. ‘These are all scenes of crime,’ he told the psychologist. ‘I want you to have a copy of this,’ he added. ‘So you can do all your stuff with locations and whatever.’
‘Perhaps we could begin with a discussion about the victims first,’ Solly remarked mildly.
‘Aye.’ Lorimer ran a hand through his dark hair, letting it flop over his forehead. ‘Four victims,’ he nodded, taking a file from the desk and coming to sit beside his friend. With a sigh that told Solly more than mere words would allow, he began