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or indeed ever would, cover. He had once spoken to Wullie about why he had never progressed beyond DI and the old boy understood intuitively where he was coming from. ‘You’re too smart to go chasing rank, Rob … You know already that, up or down, the ladder’s shaky, son,’ he had said. Brennan had a smile to himself as he thought of Wullie, he missed him around the place. There were far too many careerists and glory hunters on the scene now.
    As he turned to face Incident Room One, Brennan heard his name called from the other end of the corridor. He glanced over his shoulder but already he knew the voice belonged to Benny.
    ‘A minute, please, Rob.’ The Chief Super stood in his doorway, buttoned up, spick and span as ever.
    Brennan stared at him for a second or two, took in his worth. Hill was about the same age as he was, but he was shorter. The Chief Super had a weaker frame and he wore glasses; he didn’t look the type to go far in frontline policing. He leaned over his secretary’s desk, removed his glasses for a moment, then ushered Brennan like a toreador, ‘Well, come along.’
    ‘Coming.’ The DI nodded, started a slow trail towards his superior’s outer-office door. Once inside he closed the door gently, nodded and smiled towards Dee the secretary, and proceeded to the door marked B ERNARD H ILL , C HIEF S UPERINTENDENT .
    ‘Take a seat, Rob.’
    ‘Is it going to take that long? … I have a murder investigation on the go.’
    The Chief Super returned his glasses to his nose, it was a delicate bulb nose and looked to be rimmed in red, like he had been battling a cold for too long. He indicated the seat with the flat of his hand. ‘Please.’
    Brennan obliged him, pulled out the chair and lowered himself onto it.
    ‘I wanted to grab you before you went through … There’s been some developments.’
    ‘Oh, yes.’ Brennan felt himself shift his weight in the chair. ‘What would they be?’
    ‘We have ID’d the victim.’
    Brennan tensed up, ‘What? … When did this come in?’
    ‘Look, calm down … It’s just in this minute, I’m literally just off the phone to the lab, I was on my way to call you.’
    Brennan’s stock of anger subsided a little, ‘Well … Are you going to fill me in? I
am
the investigating officer.’
    The Chief Super peered over his glasses at Brennan, his eyes were damp and red-webbed but the look was a definite warning. ‘Well, we cross-matched the victim’s dental records from those on the missing persons list, locally that is, there weren’t so many – we got a lucky break …’
    Brennan felt himself gripping the arm of the chair tightly. ‘Really, lucky for who, sir?’
    ‘Well, not the young girl. Or her family … Which reminds me, would you, eh …’
    Brennan nodded. ‘Consider it done.’
    ‘Good. Good. Her name is Lindsey Sloan, like I say, a local girl … There’s a file obviously.’ The Chief Super removed a blue folder from the top of a pile on his desk and handed it to Brennan. It seemed a slim volume to contain the details of a life that had ended; it would be added to now though, in minute detail. It struck him that most victims attracted more attention in death than they ever did in life; the thought gored him.
    ‘I’ll alert the parents.’
    Brennan rose.
    ‘Oh, if you don’t mind …’ The Chief Super indicated the chair again. ‘I’m not finished.’
    ‘No?’
    ‘No, I’m not. I wanted to ask if you’d seen this?’
    He passed a sheet of paper over the desk towards Brennan, who turned it around, scanned the rubric. It was the memorandum about the complete ban on overtime. Brennan took a deep breath and stared out of the window; he caught sight of a road sweeper leaning on his broom.
    ‘Well, you did see this?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘And, what, sir?’
    The Chief Super looked perplexed, he removed his glasses again, started to fumble for words. He tapped a pile of papers on the other side of the desk. ‘This is the