Sure enough, the officer was hardly movie star material. As he introduced himself, Ian took in his appearance. He guessed he barely made the minimum height requirement. Not that he was short, but with a burgeoning waistline he certainly didn’t come across as particularly imposing. In his early twenties, the tightness of his uniform didn’t bode well for his future health prospects. With short-cropped ginger hair and a more than generous sprinkling of freckles that gave his face an almost orange hue, Ian could understand why the officer’s physical limitations had outweighed the potential attraction of the uniform. They were all standing. Tanya had clearly not offered a seat or any other form of hospitality. “Been here long?” Ian inquired casually, pulling a chair out from under the kitchen table. As he sat down, he gestured for the others to join him. The constable nodded his thanks. “About five minutes. I was just explaining why I was here to Mrs McLean.”
