Free A Narrow Return by Faith Martin Page B

were back. Just checking in to see how you’re settling in, and if you need anything?’
    ‘Thanks, no I’m fine. The phone’s working, and I’ve been allocated a password for the computer, which is up and running. There’s no room or a power point for a coffee pot, though.’
    Crayle smiled briefly. ‘I keep a stash of the good stuff in my office. South American blend. Feel free to come in any time you need a caffeine hit.’ He draped his tall, slender frame against the doorjamb, and crossed his arms loosely across his chest. ‘So, how’s it feel to be back in the harness?’ He looked long, cool and elegant in a black suit with a pale mint-green shirt, and bottle green tie.
    ‘Getting into stride already, sir,’ she said blandly.
    ‘And the case?’
    ‘Interesting.’
    Crayle nodded, and his dark brown hair flopped a little over his forehead.
    Hillary continued to gaze at him steadily.
    ‘Well, I’ll let you get on with it. Let me know if you run into any problems. My door’s always open. I mean that.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘You can call me Steven, you know. I’m not exactly your superior officer any more.’
    ‘No, sir. Sorry – Steven. I suppose you’re not,’ she said thoughtfully. Just my boss in fact, she added silently. And a lot of people called their boss by their first name, right? And probably harboured secret lustful thoughts too!
    Crayle smiled, displaying even white teeth and took himself off.
    Hillary let out a long slow breath, and swore softly to herself.
    Then reminded herself again not to talk to herself out loud.
     
    Steven Crayle made his way from his fiefdom in Hades and up to the lofty heights of the police canteen, on the third floor. It was late, and most of the lunchtime crowd had gone, but there was still a cluster of uniforms sat at some tables, discussing an upcoming football match at Oxford’s stadium.
    Most were expecting a little aggro from the visiting team’s supporters and would be on duty to keep the peace. Crayle didn’t envy them. He hadn’t been on the beat for more than a couple of years, and he’d been glad to leave the experience behind him.
    He selected the vegetarian option and took a seat, looking up in surprise as a shadow fell over him, and Marcus Donleavy took the chair opposite. The noise from the tables nearest to him dimmed suddenly, as if the lofty rank of the commander demanded they all suddenly start talking in whispers.
    ‘Steven, how are things?’ Donleavy asked amiably.
    ‘Fine sir, thank you.’
    Donleavy put down a plate of tinned salmon with a rather limp offering of salad leaves, and reached for the vinegar.
    ‘I hear Hillary started work right away?’
    ‘Yes, sir. Then and there, after you’d shown her around. Your idea, I take it?’ Steven asked, careful to keep his voice neutral.
    He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or not at the speed with which Hillary Greene had been thrust into his professional life.
    But Donleavy was already shaking his head. ‘Nothing to do with me, Steven, I assure you. But I’m not surprised – that’s Hillary all over. Most people would take a few days to settle in. But I image she’s in the thick of it already.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ Steven said, and since Donleavy continued to look at him steadily, bowed to the pressure and said pleasantly, ‘I gave her the McRae case. Murdered housewife, back in 1990.’
    ‘Ah. Excellent.’
    ‘I was thinking that it would probably have been kinder to give her something a bit more recent, perhaps. Or not such a dead end. The original SIO on the case was pretty sure he knew who the perp was, but simply couldn’t prove it. And after all this time, I doubt Hillary can do anything positive with it.’
    ‘Oh don’t you be too sure,’ Donleavy said, spearing a bit of soggy salmon and chewing it doggedly. ‘She’s always at her best when she’s up against it.’
    ‘If you say so, sir,’ Crayle said mildly, and turned the conversation to increasing the