Sentence The Onehundredandfortyeighth
The tenacious WPC Isa Urquhart had found a Witness – she grinned, as she told DI Gordon Brevity how, after scanning the multitude of CCTV cameras in and around Waverley Station, she became aware of a figure sometimes hovering, well-nigh out of sight, just at the side of a frame, at other times walking smartly away, and at even others, barely intruding from a position right on the very edge, just an ear, a toe, a lock of hair, perhaps a nose or a knee – and from all these disparate components, Isa had assembled a collage and, after hours of diligent work, and the unravelling of a rigmarole, had followed the thread of a route and managed to track the person to a nearby business: she picked up her bag and – with Brevity's “good luck” ringing in her ears, set off; Miss Imelda Frangione, glanced up in surprise when the open face of the WPC, her sweet smile belying the shrewd analytical detective's mind behind it, looked around the side of a screen which sheltered her work-station; Imelda experienced a flutter of anxiety when Isa introduced herself – who does not experience some trepidation and concern at an unexpected visitation by an officer of the law – but it was tinged with a frisson of excitement and she visibly relaxed when Isa swept the cubicle with a glance and said “what an owlful place you have, Miss Frangione,” and Imelda immediately recognised Isa as a true kindred spirit – and after the interview, as they stood outside (for Imelda was
still a recalcitrant smoker) and it had been arranged that the Witness would pop into The Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub in the morning to sign her statement after Isa had typed it up, something was very clear from the way their pupils dilated whenever their eyes locked, and before she had left to walk swiftly back to The Hub, Isa had Imelda's mobile number in her phone, and a date for tomorrow night in her diary!
The tenacious WPC Isa Urquhart had found a Witness – she grinned, as she told DI Gordon Brevity how, after scanning the multitude of CCTV cameras in and around Waverley Station, she became aware of a figure sometimes hovering, well-nigh out of sight, just at the side of a frame, at other times walking smartly away, and at even others, barely intruding from a position right on the very edge, just an ear, a toe, a lock of hair, perhaps a nose or a knee – and from all these disparate components, Isa had assembled a collage and, after hours of diligent work, and the unravelling of a rigmarole, had followed the thread of a route and managed to track the person to a nearby business: she picked up her bag and – with Brevity's “good luck” ringing in her ears, set off; Miss Imelda Frangione, glanced up in surprise when the open face of the WPC, her sweet smile belying the shrewd analytical detective's mind behind it, looked around the side of a screen which sheltered her work-station; Imelda experienced a flutter of anxiety when Isa introduced herself – who does not experience some trepidation and concern at an unexpected visitation by an officer of the law – but it was tinged with a frisson of excitement and she visibly relaxed when Isa swept the cubicle with a glance and said “what an owlful place you have, Miss Frangione,” and Imelda immediately recognised Isa as a true kindred spirit – and after the interview, as they stood outside (for Imelda was
still a recalcitrant smoker) and it had been arranged that the Witness would pop into The Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub in the morning to sign her statement after Isa had typed it up, something was very clear from the way their pupils dilated whenever their eyes locked, and before she had left to walk swiftly back to The Hub, Isa had Imelda's mobile number in her phone, and a date for tomorrow night in her diary!
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