Stranglehold

by Rena George

  'They're all out on enquiries, or skiving, depends how you look at it,' Drummond said.

  'No progress on McLeod?' Rougvie asked.

  'Still working on it.' He screwed up his face. 'I should be back in Inverness. We both should. That's where all the answers are.'

  'I'm guessing your DCI saw bringing me here as the best of a bad deal. I know Inverness, so if the case does start to point in that direction, I might have some insider knowledge.'

  Drummond laughed. 'And you're going along with that?'

  'Don't be daft. I just didn't want to get cut out of the case. We work well together, don't you think?'

  Drummond rolled his eyes and then grinned at Rougvie. 'OK, if you're that keen you can come with me tonight.'

  'Where are we going?'

  'To the red-light district. It's time to further your education, young man.'

  'What? You mean surveillance?' Rougvie sounded surprised.

  'Not exactly surveillance. The thing is we have no idea where the strangler is going to turn up, or when. No, I just want to have a saunter about, keeping my eyes open.'

  'I take it this is not official?'

  Drummond gave him a sideways look.

  'You'll have to watch you don't get nabbed for kerb crawling.' Rougvie grinned.

  'They wouldn't dare. Anyway, that's what I'll be doing tonight. You're welcome to join me, but you'll have to choose your own beat. If we both turn up in the same place it might look like a parade.'

  'Fine. I'll sort myself out.'

  'No heroics mind,' Drummond said. 'Even if you do spot something suspicious, you'll have no backup.'

  'Same applies to you too, Jack.'

  'Don't worry about me. I'll be looking after myself. Just make sure you'll be doing the same. And remember, pull out if you think you've been spotted.'

  Rougvie had no intention of placing himself in any danger. Elaine would have too much to say about that. Anyway, he wasn't that brave. It was just before 11 p.m. when he parked up in the dark side street. He was aware that he would stick out like a sore thumb to the working women if he began wandering about their patch. They'd know immediately that he was a cop. But it wasn't the women he was here to watch. He found a doorway that gave him a good view of the area without announcing his presence and settled in to watch. Plenty of punters seemed to be cruising around. Some slowed, looking cautiously around them and stopping when one of the women stepped forward. Rougvie watched as the car doors opened and the woman got in and the car sped off again. Other vehicles slowed but went on their way without stopping.

  He blew out his cheeks. This was not one of Drummond's best ideas. Any one of these drivers picking up the hookers could be their man and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

  He was about to call it a night when a dark vehicle cruised slowly past him. He must have made a movement in his doorway because the driver glanced briefly in his direction, but Rougvie had pulled back quickly. He didn't think the driver had seen him. His own glimpse had been only for a split second, just long enough to register the dark-rimmed spectacles. He watched the car cruise slowly along the road, but it didn't stop, even though a couple of the women had stepped forward expectantly.

  Rougvie hung on, curious to know if the vehicle would return, but after another thirty minutes there was no sign of it. A clean, warm bed was waiting for him back at his B&B. He had no motivation to hang around any longer, so he turned, making his way back to his car and left as unobtrusively as he had arrived.

  Twenty-Six

  They met in the police canteen next morning to compare notes about the previous night's surveillance. 'Sounds like we both wasted our time.' Drummond sighed.

  Rougvie's mobile buzzed and he picked it up. 'What, today? I've only just got here.' He frowned at his phone. The other person seemed to have ended the call. 'They want me back in Inverness,' he said.

  Drummond shrugged. 'Our man's killing spree hasn't finished,' he said. 'He's just biding his time.'

  'You can't know he'll kill again.'

  'Oh, I do. Believe me, he's not done.'

  'I'm sorry, Jack. I wish I could have done more.'

  Drummond rubbed his fingers over his face trying to ease away the tiredness. He hadn't been sleeping. Five women were dead, but it was Evie – he would always think of her as Evie – who was really obsessing him. She might not have gone out that night if she hadn't found his cash. If he hadn't allowed her to stay in his flat in the first place things might have worked out differently. The guilt he felt sat like a heavy anvil on his shoulders.

  'Don't apologize,' he said. 'It's hardly your fault we haven't caught him. When do you have to head back?'

  Rougvie drained his coffee. 'Pretty much straight away.'

  Drummond was about to finish the dregs of his own drink when his mobile buzzed in his jacket pocket. He fished it out and squinted at the ID. 'It's Her Majesty. She doesn't get the principle of personal time. We're not on duty for another twenty minutes.' He tapped the phone. 'DCI Buchan. Hi, what can I do for you?'

  Her answer had Drummond jerking bolt upright.

  'He's back, Jack!' she said. Every muscle in Drummond's body tensed. 'But it's not all bad news. This time his victim got away.' She paused for him to take this in. 'We've got a witness, Jack.' He could hear the excitement in her voice. 'We've only got ourselves a bloody witness.'

  Drummond's body was pulsing. This had to be the break they were waiting for. 'Where is she?'

  Rougvie was on the edge of his seat, his eyes fixed on Drummond's face.

  'She managed to stumble back to Blythswood Square. One of the other hookers called an ambulance. She's at A&E in the Western Infirmary.'

  'I'm on my way.' Drummond was already on his feet, striding out of the pub with Rougvie at his heels. 'What's her name?' he barked into the phone.

  'Joanna Flugg,' Joey Buchan said.

  They took Rougvie's car and headed across the city. Drummond could feel the urgency throbbing inside him. Would they finally get a description of their man? Maybe even DNA?

  The two detectives were heading for the curtained cubicle at the far end of hospital's A&E department. Drummond already knew what the woman would look like. All four previous victims had been the same – artificially blonde, about five foot four, and brassy. And then there was Evie. For all her bravado Drummond knew it had been an act to hide how vulnerable he was sure she really was.

  Joanna Flugg was on a trolley, her knees drawn up to her chin. Her face and neck were badly bruised, and she was trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes flew to Drummond as he pulled back the curtain. ''Ave you got 'im?' she demanded, her voice shaking. 'Have you caught 'im? Have you got the bastard?' Her cockney accent sounded seriously out of place here.

  'We will.' Drummond tried to sound reassuring. 'Half the force is out there now combing the streets.'

  'I'll take that as a "no" then. He's probably out there right now with 'is 'ands around some other poor cow's throat.' She raised her hand to her neck and fingered the bruises.

  Drummond shot Rougvie an uneasy look. 'We will catch him, Joanna. I promise you.'

  Her eyes went from one to the other. 'I'd like to see your IDs before I say another thing.'

  Both men held up their warrant cards. He was trying to conceal his impatience. 'Can you tell us what happened?'

  The woman shivered and looked away. 'Take your time,' Rougvie said more gently. 'We know how difficult this must be for you.'

  'I thought 'e was a regular punter. I got into 'is car and 'e took off across the city. We parked up in a back lane off Sauchiehall Street and 'e told me to get into the back.'

  'What kind of car?' Drummond interrupted.

  'Don't know.' She screwed up her eyes, 'It was big and dark. It could have been old. I could smell leather upholstery.'

  Both men nodded.

  'I got in the back and 'e climbed in beside me. I wasn't happy about that. Usually if it's just a blow a job the punter wants to get on with
it. 'E don't faff about wanting to get in the back.' She swallowed. 'It was weird. 'E just sat there staring at me.' She touched her long, straggly blonde hair. 'Then 'e moved me 'air off me face. 'E was staring into me eyes. That's when I decided to run.'

  'You realized he could be the strangler?' Rougvie said.

  Joanna shook her head. 'No, not that. Believe me, I'd 'ave kicked the balls off him if I'd thought that. No, I just didn't feel comfortable. I mean there's weird and there's weird. I just wanted to get out of there. I reached for the door 'andle, but 'e grabbed me arm and forced it up behind me back. The pain was excruciating. I yelled, screaming at 'im to let me go.

  'We struggled. 'E was trying to yank me other arm back but I wasn't going to let that 'appen. I just kept lashing out. I remember scratching at 'is face. That's when 'e punched me. 'E was trying to force this rag thing round me neck. 'E kept calling me Jezebel…an evil Jezebel. Jesus – who the hell is Jezebel?'

  Rougvie was about to answer but Drummond held up a warning hand. 'Go on,' he urged.

  Joanna Flugg shrugged. 'That's about it.'

  'Can you describe this man?' Drummond asked.

  She shook her head. 'I didn't see 'is face. 'E was big though, bigger than me.' She looked at Drummond. 'I don't suppose you've got a fag?'

  Drummond signalled for the uniformed cop at the door to find cigarettes.

  'You're doing great, Joanna, anything else about him strike you as odd?'

  'Is that not enough?' The door opened and the officer came in carrying a packet of Marlboro. The woman held out her hand for them. 'Thanks, mate. Did you bring the matches?'

  The man pulled out a lighter as Joanna slid out a cigarette. He lit it for her, and she took a deep drag, dropping her head back, apparently enjoying the feel of the smoke in her throat. Her eyes closed to slits as she blew out the smoke.

  ''E talked funny,' she said.

  Rougvie and Drummond exchanged a look. 'Talked funny? You mean he had a stammer, something like that?'

  'No, it wasn't it stammer. It was the way 'e spoke.' She took another drag on the cigarette and the tip burned red. 'But then all you Scotties talk funny.'

  'You mean he had a Scottish accent?'

  She shrugged. 'I suppose so.'

  'OK,' Drummond said, his eyes on her face. 'When you say accent, do you mean a Glasgow accent like mine?'

  Joanna pursed her lips, thinking. 'No not like you.' She raised her arm and pointed to Rougvie. 'More like 'im.'

  Rougvie and Drummond stared at each other. 'Sergeant Rougvie is from Inverness. Are you saying your attacker sounded like him?'

  Joanna Flugg nodded. 'Suppose I am.'

  They were out of the cubicle when she called after them. ''E had glasses. Did I mention that? Bloody great black-rimmed spectacles.'

  Rougvie was first back by her side. 'Black-rimmed spectacles? Are you sure?'

  The woman shrugged. 'I said so, didn't I?' She took another deep drag of her cigarette. 'Like some kind of professor 'e was.'

  Drummond was on his phone before they'd even got out of the unit. 'We need to get people down here ASAP. I want samples taken from our witness. She says she scratched her attacker's face. We might have his DNA.'

  There was a light in his eye when he finished the call.

  'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' Rougvie said.

  'I'm thinking what we've just been told narrows the field, that's supposing we can believe her.' He gestured to the PC on watch outside the A&E, calling him over. 'I want you to check everyone entering or leaving this unit, and that means the staff too. I don't want any unauthorized person anywhere near here, which means I don't want our witness having any visitors we don't know about. On no account is she to be allowed to leave the ward. If she attempts to go, you will tell her we're keeping her here for her own protection. If it was our man who attacked her then he might come back to finish the job.'

  A worried look flashed across the officer's face. Drummond put a hand on his arm. 'Don't worry, son. Just do your job and stay vigilant.'

  He marched off, turning to Rougvie. 'I'd feel more confident if it was you that was posted here at the hospital, Nick.'

  Rougvie glanced back to the officer who'd now adopted an officious-looking stance. 'He'll be fine,' he said. 'So what's our thinking about what Ms Flugg says? Are we looking for a Highland man?'

  'Could be,' Drummond muttered. 'I just don't know how much we can trust her instincts. We only know for sure that she was attacked by a man who tried to choke her. We don't know it was our killer.'

  Rougvie screwed up his face. 'Well what about the Inverness accent? Why wouldn't the killer be from the Highlands? I'll bet there's plenty Highland folk in Glasgow.'

  Drummond was frowning. 'He called her a Jezebel. Does that suggest some kind of religious fanatic to you?'

  Rougvie gave him a sideways glance. Drummond went on. 'A Highland accent, a religious nut, a big bully who hates women – does that description fit anybody we know?'

  Nick Rougvie blew out his cheeks. 'You're thinking about Angus McLeod, aren't you?'

  Drummond said nothing.

  Rougvie sighed. 'He doesn't wear dark-rimmed specs, and his hair's not black. He's also four hundred miles away in Inverness.'

  'It's only a four-hour drive. I keep telling folk that but nobody's listening.'

  'Why would McLeod come here when he could kill just as easily on his own doorstep?'

  The thought sent a chill through Rougvie. They were back in the hospital car park. 'One of the kerb crawlers I saw last night was wearing the kind of spectacles Joanna Flugg described.' he said.

  Drummond watched an ambulance scream past them and come to an abrupt halt at the entrance to A&E. 'It's hardly evidence, Nick.'

  Rougvie shrugged. 'It was the right area.'

  'Do you remember anything else about him?'

  'No. I'm doubting now if he was even wearing those specs. It was dark.'

  'I don't suppose you got a reg number?'

  'No. Sorry. It was just somebody who drove past me. He was alone in the car though.'

  'I doubt if this bloke had anything to do with this, but we can keep him in mind if you like. I'd much rather concentrate on Angus McLeod. As far as we know there were no victims before Maggie Burns was strangled and her body dumped at The Barras.'

  'No victims we know about,' Rougvie said.

  'I know that, but just stick with me for a minute. If Maggie was his first victim then something must have triggered that killing.'

  Rougvie nodded. 'We could check up on him, find out if he was away from home on that date. That would be a start.' He turned to Drummond. 'Does this mean you'll be coming back to Inverness with me?'

  'I'll need to do a bit more digging here first, but yes. I don't see any other options. We need to speak to Rachel McLeod.'

  Back at the incident room things were quiet. Everyone was out on enquiries. Joey Buchan came out of her office. 'What've we got?' she asked as she came up to them.

  Drummond gave her a quick résumé of their brief interview with Joanna Flugg.

  'How is she?' Joey enquired.

  'She'll live,' Drummond said.

  'We need to get her in here for a proper interview.' She turned to Drummond. 'What's your gut instinct, Jack? Was this the strangler?'

  'Could be. We might know more when we get the DNA results.'

  'How's that going to help when we don't have our killer's DNA?'

  'No, but if we can match our suspect up with the DNA.'

  Joey Buchan's head snapped up. 'We have a suspect?'

  Drummond slid Rougvie a look. 'It's all circumstantial at this stage but there are a few things we need to check out with Emily Ross's stepfather.' He met her stare. 'The murders started around the same time as Emily left home. Maybe he came to Glasgow to find her.'

  Joey pulled a face. 'It's a bit of a long shot, isn't it?'

  Drummond described their brief interview with Joanna Flugg. 'Our man was giving her some relig
ious speak – and he had a Highland accent.'

  'And you think that's enough to focus on the stepfather?' She turned to Rougvie. 'What's your call on this, DS Rougvie?'

  'We need to speak to McLeod, Ma'am.'

  'OK,' Joey said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. 'Convince me.'

  Drummond and Rougvie gave a detailed account of the information people had given them about the man. 'According to one of Evie's friends, she hated her stepfather. He believes she ran away to get away from him.'

  DCI Buchan listened, not interrupting until he'd finished. She slowly got to her feet. 'OK you can go there in the morning, but no messing about. Speak to this McLeod and get back here.' She turned her attention to Rougvie. 'You can get yourself back to Inverness now too. I'll ring your boss and explain why you've been delayed.'

  Twenty-Seven

  It was 4 a.m. and the quiet streets glistened from the overnight rain as Drummond drove out of the city. Being about at this hour always felt unreal. The late-night clubs had emptied, but some of their hung-over clients were still making their unsteady way home.

  Few other vehicles were on the roads at this hour and the closed shops Drummond drove past looked lonely and forlorn as they waited for their workers to arrive and start the new day. He was looking forward to the drive. It would give him time to consider and weigh up the possibilities that yesterday had thrown up.

  Could Angus McLeod really be their man? They would have to be careful how they approached him. The killer was clever. He knew all the tricks. But the fact that he'd allowed his latest victim to get away showed he wasn't invincible. He wouldn't like that. He would know she was giving them information that could lead to him being caught.

  Once again Drummond tried to put himself in the man's shoes. What would he do? The strangler could go to ground. He mulled over that possibility, but he'd need to be a loner without any family ties to do that. And if Angus McLeod was their killer, he couldn't afford to behave differently. Or could he?