Stranglehold

by Rena George

  Drummond spread his hands. 'He's helping us with an investigation. I'm sorry but that's all we can say at the moment.'

  He was aware the older woman was watching him with narrowed eyes. 'It would help if you could remember what you and–' he paused '–Alan, had been doing on certain dates.' He reeled off a few dates, burying the important one – the night Emily was murdered – in the middle of them.

  Judy looked up at her mother. 'Can you bring that calendar in from the kitchen, Mum?' The woman disappeared into the next room and returned with a calendar, which she handed to her daughter.

  'What were those dates again?' Judy had begun to flick through the pages. Drummond listed the dates again. Judy shrugged. 'Nothing here, except for…' She smiled. 'We were at the hospital that day for a scan.'

  'So, Alan was with you?'

  Judy nodded. 'Of course, he was, it was a very important day for us. It was the day we learned we were having a boy. Alan was overjoyed.' She gave a wistful smile. 'Alan was so excited he couldn't sleep that night. He had to get up and go for a walk.'

  Drummond felt his insides flip over. 'You're sure of this date?'

  Judy held out the calendar for him to see where she had jotted down the hospital appointment for the scan. 'No mistake. That's the date. Is it important?'

  'And Alan went out for a walk that night? What time would that have been?'

  Judy's brow wrinkled. 'I don't know, about ten I suppose. It wasn't long after I'd gone to bed. Alan said he was too excited about the baby to sleep.' She looked up at him. 'He'd always wanted a son you see and now it was actually happening.'

  'So, Alan went out around ten? Do you know when he got back?' Drummond could feel his blood pumping.

  'I don't know, but now that you mention it, he was out for ages. He certainly hadn't come back by three. I remember looking at the clock, but I fell asleep again.'

  He could see the woman's mother was surprised. 'You never mentioned Alan was out all night.'

  'It wasn't something to mention. It's just how Alan is. He has trouble sleeping and the only thing that helps is to get out and walk. Time isn't important to him.'

  Drummond had a smile on his face as he drove back to the station. He was making progress. If Angus McLeod was relying on Judy to give him an alibi, she had just smashed a hole in it.

  Thirty-Five

  'We meet again,' Drummond said, coming into the interview room and dropping the folder with Emily's name on the table. He set the recorder going, instructing McLeod to identify himself. Drummond gave no sign that he'd noticed the man's eyes flick over the file and then quickly look away.

  'Your wife sends her love,' he said, smiling.

  It took McLeod only a split second to react. 'Dear Rachel,' he said. 'Is she feeling better now?'

  'Rachel? No, she's still in hospital recovering from the injuries you inflicted on her.' He paused. 'I was referring to Judy.'

  McLeod shrugged. 'I have no idea who you're talking about.'

  'I'm talking about Judy, or Mrs Rogers, as she believes herself to be.'

  'I don't know any Mrs Rogers.'

  But you do know who Mr Rogers is…Alan Rogers?'

  McLeod looked blank.

  'Let me refresh your memory. Alan Rogers is the man who took you in, at your father's request, to train you for a career in banking. He's the man who described in his diary how he tried to sexually abuse you.' His eyes were glued to McLeod's face. 'That was before he was found hanged in his garage in Stornoway.' Drummond smiled. 'Remember him now?'

  Angus McLeod swallowed.

  Drummond kept up the pressure. 'We've reopened that case, you know. The police up in Stornoway are not happy about that original suicide verdict.'

  Panic flashed across the watchful eyes and was gone in an instant, but Drummond hadn't missed it. His feeling of optimism was growing. Time to rev up the pressure. He opened the folder and looked up. 'Where were you on May 5th, Mr McLeod?'

  'What? Without checking my diary, I have no idea.'

  But the stiffening of the man's jaw gave him away. The date was definitely significant to him.

  'Let me help you. May 5th is when your stepdaughter, Emily Ross, was murdered,' Drummond said. He slid a picture of the murder scene from the file and stared down at it. Surely you remember that?'

  The man was fidgeting now. 'I didn't realize that's what you were referring to. I was home, of course.'

  Drummond pursed his lips, still fingering the photograph. 'Which home would that be? Are you talking about the one in Inverness, or the one in Glasgow?'

  'Inverness of course. I have no home in Glasgow. You're trying to provoke me,' he snapped. His eyes were on the photograph of Emily's body.

  Drummond sighed. 'Well, the thing is, Mr McLeod, I've already asked Rachel about this and she told me you were not at home that evening. In fact, you didn't return until the next day.' His brow creased as he stared at the man. 'Is that why you attacked Rachel? Was it a warning to her to keep quiet?' He shook his head. 'But the thing is, I'm better at this than you, Angus, because I had already talked to Rachel and she confirmed your absence that night.'

  'So, I'll ask again. Where were you on that date?'

  McLeod swallowed. 'Rachel was mistaken. She fantasizes about things, says things happened when they hadn't.' He blinked. 'It's not something I like to talk about, but Rachel is not stable. Ask Mrs Guthrie, the minister's wife, she knows.'

  'Knows what, Mr McLeod?'

  'Elizabeth knows Rachel has mental health problems. She's experienced in dealing with these things. She's been trying to help Rachel.'

  Drummond had had enough. This man didn't deserve to be treated with consideration. He slid the shocking photograph of Emily's body further across the table. 'Do you recognize this place, Mr McLeod? This is where Emily died. Someone put his hands around her throat and squeezed it until she was dead. Then he scurried away, like the rat he was, leaving her body amongst the filth and rubbish in this miserable alley.' He couldn't keep the disgust from his voice.

  Angus McLeod was staring wide-eyed at the photograph. He looked transfixed. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

  To Drummond's surprise, tears began to slide down the man's cheeks and his shoulders heaved as his body was convulsed with sobs. Was it grief or remorse? Drummond didn't know. He left the photograph on the table.

  'Did you kill Emily, Angus?'

  McLeod turned wild eyes on him. 'Me?' He sounded genuinely shocked. 'No. I didn't kill her. It wasn't me.' His breath was coming in gasps. 'You have to find who did this to my lovely girl. You have to find him. It wasn't me.'

  The uniformed officer behind McLeod was looking anxious. He stepped forward, but Drummond waved him back, leaning across the table. 'The thing is, Angus…we have CCTV.'

  'What? You're lying!' McLeod suddenly sprang from his chair and lunged at Drummond.

  The young PC bounded forward and got him in an arm lock, forcing him back into his chair.

  'Why does CCTV upset you so much, Angus, if you weren't there?'

  'There was no CCTV. I was told. The camera wasn't working that night.'

  'That's what we all thought originally, but it actually was. I've watched the video, Angus. It's very interesting.'

  Drummond tilted his head, watching the man. He was coming apart. All the bravado, the carefully constructed wall of granite was fast disappearing. Angus McLeod was guilty as hell. All he had to do now was to keep pushing and he'd get his confession. And if he had to throw in a few lies along the way then so be it.

  The man jerked up and squared his shoulders, fixing Drummond with a defiant glare. 'I want a solicitor,' he said.

  Drummond felt exhilarated as he watched McLeod being led back to his cell before heading off to the custody desk. Sergeant Ronnie Ryan, the custody sergeant, lifted his head fr0m his newspaper. 'Everything all right?' he asked.

  'He wants a lawyer. Can we contact the duty solicitor?'

  The sergeant nodded.

/>   'Like I said before, you better keep an eye on him,' Drummond said. 'I don't think he likes our five-star accommodation.'

  He was in the corridor on his way back to the incident room when he met Nick Rougvie and the junior officer sent to escort Angus McLeod back to Inverness. 'I'd love to say I'm pleased to see you, but I've got McLeod on the verge of confessing to his stepdaughter's murder. Any chance you could leave him with us for another hour?'

  Rougvie's eyes lit up. 'He's ready to confess? But that's brilliant.' He slapped a hand on Drummond's shoulder. 'Congratulations.'

  'We're not there yet, but I'm hopeful.'

  The constable who'd been in on the interview was coming along the corridor. 'The duty solicitor was in the building. I'm off to take him to see McLeod now.'

  'Thanks,' Drummond said. 'I'll give them half an hour.'

  Rougvie introduced the officer he'd brought with him. 'This is DC Faraday.' The man shot out his hand. 'It's Colin, sir,' he said, his plump pink face crinkling into a smile.

  Drummond nodded. 'Look, Colin. The canteen's on the floor below. Fancy grabbing a coffee for yourself while I have a word with DS Rougvie here?'

  The DC looked at Rougvie who nodded his agreement. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a banknote. 'Get yourself a sandwich as well.'

  Colin Faraday's grin widened as he accepted the money and hurried off.

  Rougvie turned to Drummond. 'I really can only give you an hour. We're under orders to get the prisoner straight back to Inverness.'

  'Prisoner?' Drummond queried.

  'That's right. Rachel McLeod has come round. She's confirmed it was her husband who attacked her. We're charging him with attempted murder.'

  Drummond smacked his first into his hand. 'Yes!' he said. 'Let McLeod try to squirm out of this.'

  Rougvie checked his watch. 'Fancy joining young Colin in the canteen while you wait for McLeod's solicitor to do his thing?'

  Drummond felt he should stick around, but ten minutes wouldn't do any harm. They were on their way back from the canteen when the alarm bell started to clang along the corridor. Drummond's first thought was Angus McLeod. 'It's him!' he yelled, breaking into a spontaneous charge towards the cells with Rougvie fast behind. The sound of running feet was coming up behind them.

  They came to an abrupt halt as they reached the open cell door. The young PC who'd hit the alarm button was staring in horror at Angus McLeod's body, blood still seeping from gashes in both his wrists. Beside him was a cheap plastic pen that was also covered in blood.

  'Jesus!' Drummond flew across the room, grabbing a hankie from his pocket and trying to staunch the flow of blood while he yelled to Rougvie to do the same. Outside more feet pounded towards them. Three uniformed officers piled into the cell, pushing the shocked-looking solicitor out of the way.

  'Call an ambulance,' Drummond shouted at them. But even as he spoke, he knew it was too late. Angus McLeod was dead.

  Rougvie put a hand on Drummond's shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Jack,' he said quietly. 'He's gone.'

  Drummond's hands went to his head as he let out an ear-splitting wail. 'Nooooo. He can't die!' He rocked his head. 'He can't die, not yet.'

  'Come away, Jack,' Rougvie said gently, leading Drummond away from the body.

  'I had him, Nick. He was on the point of confessing to Emily's murder. Now he gets away with it.'

  'I'd hardly call taking his own life getting away with it,' Rougvie said. 'Wasn't he on suicide watch?'

  'What? No!' Drummond screwed up his face. 'Why the hell should he have been? Angus McLeod wasn't suicidal. He was arrogant. He was chancing it out.'

  Rougvie gave a deep sigh. The custody sergeant had arrived now and was staring at the body.

  'I told you to keep an eye on him,' Drummond yelled. 'Why didn't you watch him?'

  The man backed away, shaking. 'Don't you blame this on me. Nobody asked me to put this man on suicide watch.'

  Rougvie stepped between them. 'This can wait. You need to get the duty doctor down here, DI Drummond. Like now!' He moved closer to Drummond. 'Get a grip, Jack.' Rougvie's whisper in his ear was urgent. 'This has to be done by the book from here on in.'

  Rougvie began to walk from the cell with Drummond. 'We have to get DCI Buchan down here,' he said. 'D'you have her number?'

  Drummond fumbled for his phone but Rougvie took it from him. 'I'll do it,' he said.

  The two detectives were pacing the floor in Joey's office when she arrived. 'I want to see the body,' she ordered. 'You stay here, Jack.' She turned to Rougvie. 'You'd better come with me and put me in the picture.'

  She marched ahead of him to the cells, passing the custody sergeant's desk on the way. 'You come too, Sergeant Ryan. Tell me what the hell's been going on here.'

  'I wasn't here when Inspector Drummond and this officer found McLeod's body,' the sergeant bleated, puffing after her.

  'Were you aware that he was a suicide risk?' Buchan demanded.

  'Not that I was told. We would have been checking him regularly if that had been the case,' Sergeant Ryan said breathlessly.

  Joey Buchan put her hands on her head at the sight of the body on the cell floor. 'Christ,' she said. 'How the hell did he manage to cut his wrists?' She turned her fury on Ryan. 'Was nobody watching him?'

  The sergeant shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. 'You'll have to ask DI Drummond about that. Apart from the duty solicitor, he the last person who saw the man alive.'

  Joey Buchan put her fingers to her temple. 'How in shit's name did he manage to do this?'

  Rougvie swallowed and nodded to the pen that was still lying beside the body.

  'Christ,' Joey Buchan said, narrowing her eyes at the sergeant. 'Why was this not taken from him?'

  Sergeant Ryan caught his breath. 'He was searched same as all prisoners in the cells. He had no pen on him then. Somebody's given this to him.'

  Joey released a long sigh. 'Don't anybody touch anything in here. Is that clear?' It was the sergeant she was looking at. He gave a glum nod as she turned sharply, marching out of the cell with Rougvie at her heels.

  'DI Drummond won't be blamed for this, will he?' Rougvie said, striding fast to keep up with her.

  'Well what would you think, DS Rougvie? Everybody knew Jack had it in for McLeod. He made no secret of it. He hassled the man, no doubt accused him of murdering his stepdaughter when there was no evidence. And he taunted him about the death of that banker in Stornoway, not to mention the disappearance of McLeod's mother and her boyfriend way back when.'

  'And a possible bigamy,' Rougvie muttered under his breath.

  But Joey was still in full spate. 'He certainly gave the man grounds for being suicidal,' she hissed. 'I just hope he didn't give him that pen. So yes, I'd say Jack Drummond is a prime candidate for blame, wouldn't you?'

  Drummond was still in Joey's office and keeping an anxious eye on the door into the incident room as he waited for her return. The look on her face when she appeared with Nick Rougvie gave him no solace.

  'I'll have to call this in, Jack. There will be an investigation. You'll have to prepare yourself.'

  'It's an unexplained death in the cells.' Drummond frowned.

  'And that's what you're going to tell the investigating team, is it?' Her voice was rising. 'You're going to suggest this is an unexplained death?' She gave an exasperated sigh. 'But it's not, is it, DI Drummond? Angus McLeod took his own life because somebody gave him a pen.' She couldn't keep the anger from her voice. 'And oh yes, there's also the little matter of how you goaded, taunted and bullied the man!'

  'But I didn't…'

  'The tapes will show you being nice to him, will they?'

  Drummond hung his head.

  'I think you should make yourself scarce. You'll be contacted when they want you.' She glanced to Rougvie. 'Get him out of here.'

  They had reached the door when Drummond looked back. 'I didn't give him that pen, you know,' he said.

  Thirty-Six


  Rougvie watched Drummond staring morosely into his whisky glass having waved aside any suggestion that he should go home. He needed to get his friend out of here before Drummond's aggressive, drunken behaviour got them both thrown out. He had already informed DCI Gavin Fraser, in Inverness, of their prisoner's unexpected demise. Fraser agreed that he and Faraday should stay overnight in Glasgow and Faraday had gone off to find them a B&B.

  Rougvie leaned in closer to Drummond, lowering his voice down. 'You have to keep everything together until all this gets sorted, Jack.'

  'Sorted? You think this is going to get sorted?' Drummond gave a drunken grin. 'This won't get sorted. The top brass want me out and now they have the perfect excuse.' He was waving his hands with a flourish. 'They'll say I caused a man to kill himself in the cells. This is my fault.'

  'You can stop that talk right now. Stand up for yourself, man.' Rougvie was losing patience. 'And while you're at it you can stop this drinking.'

  Drummond pulled a face and drained his glass. 'Like that's going to happen.'

  'So, what then? You're just going to sit here and drink yourself to death? Brilliant idea!'

  Drummond shrugged. 'What the hell. I'm finished in the Force. They don't like insubordinate buggers like me. It suits them better when we're obedient muppets jumping to attention and playing everything by the book.' He looked up and met Rougvie's frown. 'Don't you get it, Nick? They want rid, and this is their chance.'

  'You don't know that.'

  Drummond picked up his empty glass and headed for the bar. Rougvie watched him stagger across the floor and made no attempt to stop him. What would have been the point? Anyway, why should he care about this bolshie, stubborn man when he clearly cared nothing for himself? He'd thought they were friends, but Drummond was throwing it all back in his face. The man was on a collision course for disaster and taking his foot off the brake. Rougvie shook his head, watching him downing a fresh whisky and asking for another.

  What the hell! He and Faraday would be on their way back to Inverness in the morning. Drummond would have to look out for himself.