Stranglehold Read online

  'Did we find the jewellery?' DCI Joey Buchan had come up behind Drummond and was watching the screen over his shoulder.

  'Not so far,' Drummond said, nodding to the young detective operating the CCTV equipment to fast-forward the video again. 'Wait! Go back! What's that?' He jabbed a finger at the screen.

  The officer replayed it. They were staring at a shot of the old man staggering back up the lane. A shadowy figure appeared from a doorway. The old man stopped, cringing away, protecting himself as the short stocky figure pushed him roughly up the lane.

  'Do we have any footage that tracks this pair?' Drummond's tone was urgent.

  'There's this,' the officer said. He'd switched to another camera that had been trained on the dark area where the man's body was found.

  There were shocked gasps as the detectives watched the two figures on the screen grapple with each other. One of them produced a knife and plunged it into the other. The figure slid to the ground as the attacker bent over him, pulling out the knife and wiping it on the victim's coat before stashing it back into an inside pocket of their long, ragged coat. Drummond watched in disbelief as the attacker ransacked the victim's pockets and found what looked like the pendant and bracelet the tramp had ripped from Maggie's body. They found her purse and emptied the contents into their hand before tossing the empty purse away.

  Drummond tilted his head at the screen. 'Is it a woman?' He screwed up his eyes. 'Anybody recognize them?'

  There was a unanimous shaking of heads.

  A uniformed PC came into the room carrying a tray of coffees and paused, focusing on the indistinct images.

  'Wait a minute, I know who that is,' he said. 'That's Annie Bishop. She all but haunts The Barras with that old pram of hers stacked up with rags.'

  'I know who you mean,' DC Murray Anderson chipped in. 'And if it is her, she'll be out now cashing in on what she's just killed the old man for to buy drugs.'

  Gail shook her head. 'I doubt if that lot will buy many drugs.' Her brow furrowed. 'Poor old devil. Why did she have to kill him?'

  As the officers watched the woman hurrying away, three more people emerged from the shadows and approached the old man's body. They stared at it for a few seconds and then one of them raised his hands to his head and rocked it, another let out a loud wail. The third person hurried away and the others quickly followed.

  'Looks like we have some eyes witnesses, boss,' Gail Swann said.

  Drummond sighed. 'Bring them all in…and arrest that Annie woman.'

  Drummond stood in front of Maggie Burns' door. It wasn't the most impressive of Glasgow tenements, but he'd seen worse. There was no response to his police knock. None of the residents here would be early risers. He used his fist to batter on the door. Eventually, it opened slowly and a tousled-haired, bleary-eyed black woman squinted out at him. 'This better be world shattering,' she said.

  Drummond produced his warrant card. 'Can I come in?'

  'Could I stop you?' She moved aside as he passed her.

  'If you're after business, you're too early.' She yawned, pushing her fingers through her mass of crimped red hair.

  'It's about your flatmate,' Drummond said curtly.

  'Maggie? What's she done? If she wants me to bail her out again, she's got no chance.'

  She slouched across the room, pulling on a tatty red silky dressing gown before turning to give him an irritated scowl.

  'Let's start with your name, shall we?' Drummond said.

  'Leisha McTaggart.' The woman scratched at her stomach.

  'We're investigating a serious incident,' Drummond said. 'Were you with Maggie last night?'

  She was more alert now. 'Yes. What's happened? Where is she?'

  'Did you see who she went off with last night?'

  Leisha frowned, confused. 'I don't know. I wasn't watching her every move. I was more interested in who was stopping for me.' She pushed her messy hair out of her face and screwed up her eyes as though trying to clear the fuzz from her head. 'She got into a car…a black car, I think. Has something bad happened to her?'

  'I need to contact her family.'

  'Maggie doesn't have any family, at least none worth bothering about.'

  'But there's somebody?' Drummond said.

  The woman nodded and then shook her head. 'I think so…I don't know. You haven't told me what's happened to her.' But she didn't need to ask more. His look said it all.

  'She's dead, isn't she?'

  'I'm sorry, Leisha.'

  'How…how did she die?'

  'That's what we need to find out. I'll have to go through her things. We didn't find a mobile phone on her. Did she have one?'

  'We all do. Benny likes to keep in touch with his properties.'

  Benny Saul. Drummond frowned. They all knew Benny back at the nick. He was a well-known Glasgow pimp. But it was the man he worked for that interested Drummond. Big Mal McKirdy – hard man, gangster, and 'godfather' of the city's drugs' scene. If anything dodgy was being moved around the city you could bet Big Mal had a finger in the pie. He'd never been caught. He was too clever for that, but his luck wouldn't last forever, and Drummond would make sure he was there to play his part in bringing the man down.

  'Properties?' he said, turning back to Leisha. 'What does that mean?'

  'Saul calls all us women his properties. When he has special clients, he phones us, tells us what to wear, sends a car for us.'

  Drummond's brow wrinkled. 'How often does that happen?'

  'Not that much for the likes of me and Maggie. It's the younger lassies who get most of the calls.' She paused, her top lip curling. 'Saul's special clients like 'em young.'

  'But you and Maggie still had phones?'

  She nodded.

  'Could Maggie have left her phone here?'

  Leisha gave a little laugh. 'Are you kidding? There's a black eye and a cracked rib waiting for them that doesn't take their phone everywhere.'

  Drummond felt a rise of anger. 'Saul would beat you up?'

  She nodded. 'Him or one of his gorillas. Same if any of us try to get out. Saul doesn't like it when women go against him. He knows exactly how much I earn on the streets and if I don't hand it all over when he calls…' She put a hand to her scrawny neck. There was no need to finish the sentence.

  Drummond had a thought. 'I don't suppose you or any of the other girls ever take pictures of your punters?' She gave him a look that suggested she thought he was mad.

  'No. Why would we do that? We're out there looking for business. Punters would run a mile if we started snapping them.'

  Drummond could understand that, but it still didn't mean it never happened. He frowned. Could that have been why Maggie got herself killed? Had the killer taken her phone because he knew there was a picture of himself on it? It was something to think about. 'Can I see Maggie's room?'

  Leisha nodded to the wall. 'It's through there.'

  'Show me,' he said, standing back as she led the way. He'd been expecting it to mirror the chaos in the rest of the flat, but the place was orderly. The bed was made up with a patchwork quilt, and pink bows adorned the bed head. Some clothes hung on hangers from the wardrobe doors. His glance passed over the cheap clock radio and pink-frilled table lamp on the bedside table. There was a drawer and he slid it open, checking through the contents. Hand cream, hairbrush, paracetamol. Nothing that helped him. He turned back to Leisha. 'Did Maggie keep files of important documents, letters?'

  She shrugged. 'I've no idea. Maggie keeps…' She corrected herself. 'Maggie kept all that kind of stuff to herself.'

  Drummond went to the wardrobe and flicked through the clothes on hangers. There were pitifully few items. His attention went to a shoebox on the top shelf and he lifted it down. It was full of papers. He began to flick through them. Maggie was certainly organized. Paid bills were paper-clipped together, unpaid items were in a see-through plastic sleeve. At the bottom of the box there were articles, clipped from celebrity magazines. None of it looked signif
icant. He was hoping there might be an address book. There wasn't. Maybe a detailed search of her room might throw up more clues. 'I'll take this stuff with me,' he said.

  The woman's thin shoulders rose in a shrug.

  Drummond hesitated. 'One more thing.' She looked at him, eyes full of dread. She knew what was coming. 'We need somebody to identify the body,' he said.

  Her brow knotted. 'Do I have to?'

  'Think of it as doing one last thing for your mate.'

  Leisha McTaggart reached for a cigarette from the packet on the table. Drummond struck a match and lighted it for her. She took a deep drag and squinted through the smoke. 'Doesn't look like I've got a choice.'

  Three

  Gone were the days when Glasgow hoodlums lived in city centre slum tenements. Drummond ran his eyes along the smart frontage of the Cowcaddens flats and wondered how many tricks Saul's girls had to turn to keep him living in this style.

  'I've been here before,' Gail said. 'Saul's flat is on the top floor, the penthouse suite.'

  'Why does that not surprise me?' Drummond said sourly, as they made their way to the impressive entrance hall.

  'D'you think he already knows about Maggie?' Gail asked, her attention on the row of buttons lighting up as the elevator moved silently up the floors.

  'Of course he does,' Drummond said. 'The city's jungle drums wouldn't be doing their job otherwise. That's if he didn't kill her himself.'

  'He's in the frame then?'

  Drummond gave her a sideways frown. Everybody was in the frame until they caught this murdering bastard. He pasted a smile on his face as the door opened and a slickly dressed Asian man fixed them with an irritated expression. 'Mr Saul?' Drummond forced a smile as he produced his warrant card and Gail did the same.

  Saul's eyes rose heavenwards. 'What d'you want? I'm busy.'

  Drummond nodded to the flat's interior. 'Perhaps we could step inside?'

  'Perhaps you bloody couldn't,' Saul said. 'What d'you want?'

  'It's about one of your girls, Benny…Maggie Burns.'

  'Never heard of her,' Saul said. 'Is that it?'

  'No, it isn't.' Drummond's foot was already in the door. 'It would be in your interest to co-operate. Pimping is still illegal.'

  Saul's frosty look went from one to the other, but he stood back allowing them to pass into the flat, pointing to the large, expensively furnished sitting room. A young blonde in a tight-fitting red top and black leather miniskirt moved away from the window and stood nervously in a corner. 'Make yourself scarce, Marie,' Saul said, and the girl slipped out of the room. He turned to face Drummond. 'So, what's this all about?'

  'You live very well, Benny,' Drummond said, looking around him. 'For a pimp, that is.'

  'I'm an accountant.'

  'Are you now?' Drummond locked eyes with him. He knew it was true. The man was an accountant. He also worked for Big Mal McKirdy and ran a stable of prostitutes on the side.

  'Will this take long?' Saul said.

  'Depends how well you co-operate. Shall we start again?' He paused. 'Maggie Burns. When was the last time you saw her? And before you waste our time denying you know her; we will be checking her place for fingerprints. If we find any of yours there, then it won't look good for you.'

  Saul looked away. 'OK. I've met her. What about it?'

  'Maggie's dead, Benny,' Drummond said, watching him. The man tried to feign shock, but his acting wasn't great. The woman's demise clearly wasn't a surprise, but was that because the city's jungle drums had reached him, or was it because he'd killed her?

  'We'll need a statement about your relationship with Maggie Burns,' Drummond said as Gail slipped a notebook and pen from her bag. He didn't want to give Saul time to concoct a story by offering him the option of coming to the police station, but the man knew his rights. He glanced at his watch. 'Look, I really am pushed for time right now, but I can come down to the nick later, although I don't know what kind of statement you expect. I hardly knew the woman.'

  'Just make sure you're there before 4 p.m.,' Drummond said, not bothering to hide his distaste as he glanced around the plush room. He could feel Saul's eyes on them as they walked away and knew the villain would be reaching for his phone as soon as they were out of the door.

  Outside the building they sat in Drummond's car looking up at Saul's flat. 'What now, boss?' Gail said. 'Big Mal McKirdy's place?'

  He pulled a face. 'Naw. Let's get back to the nick and see what Nell Forrester has for us.

  'You do appreciate I've had next to no time to examine these bodies let alone carry out the post-mortems yet,' Nell Forrester said, dismissing Drummond's attempt to give her his most endearing smile.

  'You shouldn't put yourself down, Nell.' The teasing grin was still there. 'Come on, tell me. What've you got?'

  She sighed. 'It's the scarf the killer used.' She indicated it on the bench by her microscope. 'It's got DNA on it.'

  Drummond's brow wrinkled. He was processing what this might mean. 'Do we know if it's the killer's DNA?'

  Her look was scathing. 'I'm a pathologist, Jack, not a magician. If you find me something I can match it with, then I might be able to help you. At the moment all I can say is that it could be the killer's DNA, but it would not prove he – or she – was the killer, only that they had touched the scarf. Actually, not even that. The DNA could also belong to a close member of the killer's family.'

  Drummond cursed under his breath, but he knew she was right. They would need to round up a few suspects before they could pursue this line of investigation any further and so far, their only suspect was Saul. Drummond wasn't confident he was a real contender for their strangler.

  'Do we know if the killer was a man or a woman?'

  'Not for sure,' Nell said. 'But if it's a woman, well, put it this way, she must be a very strong six-footer.'

  It confirmed what they saw on the CCTV. 'So, a man then?'

  'I didn't say that.'

  Drummond blew out his cheeks. 'What about the other body? Anything on that?'

  Nell shook her head. 'A few bits of string in his trouser pockets and a filthy hankie.'

  'Could the killings be linked?' Drummond asked.

  'In what way?'

  Drummond shrugged. He was pitching about in the dark.

  'Anything's possible, I suppose,' Nell said, her violet eyes glancing up at him in a way that made his insides quiver. 'The killer of our first victim could still have been at the scene when the old man turned up and began to rob the victim. He, or she, could have been so incensed that he killed the old boy.'

  'That would mean the killer had the knife on him,' Drummond said, knowing it was all hypothetical because they had the old boy's killer on CCTV, but he enjoyed hearing her theories.

  'Maybe he, or she, was in belt and braces mode. If the strangling failed then he had the knife to fall back on,' Nell said.

  Drummond slid her a look. 'You're joking. Right?'

  She laughed. 'Sorry, Inspector. I was only playing devil's advocate.'

  'Your input is always appreciated, Dr Forrester,' Drummond said. He was wondering how she would react if he suggested they should go out for a drink one night. He was still wondering about that as he left the mortuary and headed back to the station.

  'Any ID on the old man yet?' Drummond asked as he strode into the incident room.

  Gail looked up from her screen. 'According to the police computer he's William George McDade from Skye – a petty thief who steals mainly to fund his alcohol problem.'

  Drummond pulled a face. 'What about his killer?'

  'Well that's where it gets better. Annie Bishop has admitted everything. She stabbed the old boy when he wouldn't hand over the stuff he took from Maggie Burns' body. She said she hadn't meant to kill him, only to frighten him. But he made a grab for her and the knife went into him.'

  Gail looked up at him. 'Not bad getting at least one of the murders solved within hours.'

  'You did well, Gail.' But his eyes
were already on the whiteboard. Someone had put up a still from the barras CCTV. He moved in for a closer look at the killer. Even if this guy had been his best mate Drummond doubted if he could have recognized him.

  Four

  'Sabre! Sabre, come!' Liam Stiller shouted into the dark as he paced the edge of the waste ground. He called again, impatient for his German shepherd to come bounding back. Where was the dog? He checked his watch again. Almost 7 a.m. He didn't have time for this, he was already on a final warning for his timekeeping. And to make matters worse it had started to rain. With an irritated sigh Liam headed out across the site, his head torch picking up only shadows. And then he heard Sabre bark. He called again, cursing. What was the dog doing? It was then that he spotted Sabre in the distance, pawing at what looked like a mess of rubbish somebody had dumped. Liam hated fly-tippers. They had respect for no one, not even themselves.

  'Here, boy!' he commanded, but Sabre was more interested in his find than obeying his master. Liam stomped forward, grabbing the dog and snapping the lead on his collar. 'What the devil are you playing at?' he muttered. 'I don't have time for…' But he didn't finish the sentence. His head torch had caught the bundle that had attracted his dog's attention and he drew back in horror.

  The woman's eyes stared up at him from the dark. She was splayed out like a rag doll amongst the rubble – and she looked very, very dead! A wave of nausea swept over him. He'd never seen a dead body before.

  Liam stumbled back, clutching his stomach. Sabre, sensing something was wrong with his master, began to yank excitedly on his lead. Liam's only thought was to get out of there. The steady drizzle had turned into a downpour. He splashed over the rough ground, the beam from his head torch bouncing off the dark shapes of grass mounds and bushes, each one more sinister looking than the one before. Any of these shapes could be concealing another body. Liam ran faster, Sabre at his heels, as he made a frantic dash for the safety of the road.