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looked quite different to how it had at the weekend. The only folk to be seen now were the dog-walkers and the occasional jogger doing a circuit of the green. The grass was yellow and dry, despite the procession of sprinklers which were spinning water out onto its parched surface. DC Alice Mann noticed how these little fountains were creating a dozen mini rainbows in the strong morning sun.
                  Phil Boag had arranged a meeting with Anthony Lomond, the chief coach at the University Boating Club, down at their headquarters by the river. There was a training session currently in progress and Mr Lomond suggested this would provide a good opportunity to ask their questions.
                  A group of athletic-looking young men were hauling a boat up the jetty as they arrived. The sun was sparkling fiercely on the surface of the river, producing an almost blinding glare. Phil wished he’d brought his shades. An older man, although still no more than thirty, emerged from the wooden shed and approached the pair, putting out his hand and smiling broadly.
                  ‘You must be DS Boag. I’m Tony Lomond. You’re in luck, the lads have just returned from a row. They’ll be taking some refreshments before going out again.’
                  Tony led the police officers into the hut, which was pretty basic, but contained a kitchenette and a few tables and chairs. The walls were filled with framed photographs of sturdy young students holding aloft trophies. Lomond introduced them to the rowers, who were gathering in front of a serving hatch. He then led Phil and Alice towards one of the tables.
                  Phil brought out a photograph of Nathan McLaren. ‘Do you recall having seen this man before?’
                  Lomond took the picture from him and examined it closely. ‘Where might I have met him?’ He eventually said.
                  ‘Nathan McLaren was seen talking to someone here at the boat sheds on Saturday, Mr Lomond. On the afternoon of the Glasgow Fair,’ Alice explained.
                  He grimaced. ‘There were hundreds of people milling about that day.’ He looked at the face again. ‘But I do believe I recognise him.’
                  ‘Do you mind if we show it around some of the lads?’ Phil asked, ‘whilst you consider where you might have seen this man before.’
                  ‘Of course, go ahead.’
                  Most of the rowers claimed never to have set eyes on McLaren. Then one young man paused for a moment, squinting hard at the image. ‘This was on Saturday, you say?’
                  Phil nodded patiently.
                  ‘I couldn’t swear to it, but I think this guy asked me about whether his son would be able to join the club, when he became an undergraduate at the university in September.’
                  Alice became immediately alert. ‘What did you tell him?’
                  The boy scratched his head. ‘I explained how I got involved in rowing and the kind of training we do, then I introduced him to Tony. I thought he’d know more about it than I would.’
                  Phil gestured for Lomond to come and join them. ‘This lad says he directed Nathan McLaren to talk with you about his son maybe signing up to the rowing club. This was on Saturday afternoon.’
                  Tony’s face seemed to light up with recognition. ‘Ah, that was it. Nice chap. He’d done some rowing himself as a younger man. I gave him one of our leaflets and told him to encourage his lad to come along one Saturday morning for a trial. I’m always keen for enthusiastic new members to join, especially when the fourth years are about to graduate and move on.’
                  ‘Did he give you any indication of where he might be headed to after he