by Zach Abrams
An hour later, Sandra and Alex had to brave driving rain to enter the court building and it was a further fifteen minutes before they were shown in to Sheriff McSweeney's chambers, switching their phones to silent as they went. At least they were able to dry off a little during their wait.
Dispensing with any pleasantries, McSweeney nodded in the direction of the chairs at the front of his desk and continued reading his papers. He was an insignificant looking man, at the upper end of middle age, small in stature with a rotund belly. His round face had the sort of rosy complexion which suggested an overindulgence in red wine. He wore rimless spectacles perched halfway down his nose. The crown of his head was bald but he had long straggles of greyish brown hair at the side which were vainly, carefully combed over the top in a futile attempt to give a different impression. He wore a plain, grey suit which struggled to contain him as it had been purchased a couple of years earlier when he'd been a couple of stones lighter and a couple of sizes smaller. His shirt followed the same theme, the Tommy designer logo doing nothing to compensate for the straining buttons across his midriff. His collar was undone and was held loosely closed by a striped silk tie which carried some evidence of the soft boiled egg he'd had for breakfast.
Sandra could visually measure Alex's blood pressure rising as seconds and then minutes ticked by and his face became more flushed by anger. McSweeney glanced up occasionally, looking over the top of his glasses, clearly enjoying this petty demonstration of power.
Before seven minutes had passed, Alex had had enough. He stood and opened his briefcase. “I'd like you to look at this evidence.”
McSweeney waved him away. “You've asked to see me at short notice. You can just wait until I'm ready. I'm doing you a favour seeing you at all.”
Alex was unperturbed and continued lifting out a batch of photographs. “I think you'll find that it's us doing you the favour. We're giving you the first opportunity to see these and not going straight to the Lord President.” Alex proceeded to lay out the first few of a series of photos on the Sheriff's desk showing McSweeney 'in flagrante.'
McSweeney jumped to his feet. “Who do you think you are? Don't you know who I am? You have no right to do this. I've a good mind to have you arrested. I'm taking these from you,” he spluttered.
“Don't be so bloody naïve, man!” Alex's patience was wearing thin.
McSweeney sank back into his chair and covered his face with his hands, all his confidence and arrogance had dissolved. “What am I going to do?”
“First of all, you're going to tell us everything you know about this.”
“But you can't let this information get out. I'll be a laughing stock.”
“I think that's the last thing you need to worry about. Now let's get started. How did you meet this girl?” Alex was pointing to the naked young lady in the first photograph.
McSweeney sat for some time, his whole body was trembling and he was trying to compose his thoughts.
“I can't remember exactly. I was on the internet and went into a chat-room I think.”
“Can you remember the website?”
“I don't know, I think it was 'Lonely in Glasgow' or 'Alone in Glasgow,' something like that.”
“What happened then?”
“We just talked to each other. I really enjoyed it. She was so easy to talk to. Her name was Cynthia, or so she said. She told me she was a law student and liked talking to me because I was so important.” McSweeney paused again before continuing.
“Sometimes she used a webcam and showed me what she was studying. One time it was late at night and she was wearing a skimpy nightie. She looked so beautiful and I told her so. To my amazement, in response, she stood up and lifted the nightie over her head and posed there, stark naked in front of the camera for a few seconds, then put it back on again. I told her how much I'd enjoyed seeing her, and she asked if I'd like to see her for real. I so wanted it to happen. She said she could arrange for us to meet at a friend's flat. We'd be able to have it all to ourselves. I told her that would be amazing. She contacted me to tell me it was all set up and I was to go to Glasgow Harbour the following night. I couldn't wait. I was meant to be playing in a bridge tournament but I cancelled and met her instead. I took a bottle of wine. She'd told me she liked red wine. I took a good bottle, a St Emilion Grand Cru, I wanted to impress her. We met and we enjoyed each other's company. We enjoyed the wine. I'm not going into any details, you've got the photographs and that was all there was to it.”
“From what we've seen in the photographs, you've been a bit adventurous but there was nothing illegal. The girl's young but above the age of consent and what consenting adults do is not a matter for the law.”
“Yes, I know. I do know the law. I don't need you to lecture me. I enjoyed that night but I just didn't want anyone to know. I have a good marriage and I didn't want to lose it. I don't want to lose it! But Cynthia did things and let me do things that I couldn't have at home.”
Alex let the words hang in the air. The pictures had graphically depicted anal penetration, but the wrongdoing by McSweeney was not in his sexual activity, but instead it was the lengths he'd gone to cover it up.
“You've still not told us everything. What happened afterwards?”
“We said we'd talk again and make another arrangement but she never called.”
“No, but someone else did.”
“Yes, I had a visit the following week. A horrible man, he told me he had photographs and showed me an example. He told me that I'd better do what he said or he'd make them public. I couldn't risk that happening and he knew it. I offered him money. He took it, but said he wanted more. He said he'd let me know.” McSweeney stopped talking and drew in his breath.
“And?”
“I heard nothing more for a month or more. I started to convince myself it had never happened, it was a bad dream and that it was over, but it wasn't.” Again, the words hung in the air and this time Alex allowed the Sheriff to take his time before continuing.
“You remember the Lazlo case a few months back? Russian petty criminal who'd been arrested for possession of cocaine and firearms? The preliminary case came before me and I accepted the defence plea to dismiss because of an illegal search.” There was another long pause.
“Why didn't you come to us for help?”
“I couldn't. I was in too deep. I should have come to you straight away after I was shown the photos. I should have just chased him and taken my chances. But I was frightened and I didn't want to be a laughing stock. Can you imagine what the papers would have made of it? 'Sheriff caught with his pants down,' most like. My wife would have been appalled. She might, with time, have forgiven the indiscretion, but never the humiliation. I couldn't let that happen.”
“What happened with Lazlo?”
“There was a technical anomaly with the search warrant. It was nothing significant and shouldn't have made a real difference. At worst it should only have affected ten percent of the evidence as the follow on documentation was perfect. I chose an extreme interpretation of the regulations, as if to make a point. I threw out all the evidence and the case collapsed.” After a slight pause, McSweeney corrected, “I was asked to throw out the evidence.”
“Who asked? Was the defence solicitor involved?”
“Not to my knowledge. At least I have no proof. He just presented the petition. The same man, the one with the photos, came to see me and told me the petition would be presented and how I should treat it. I refused at first. I told him I couldn't possibly consider doing that. It was a corruption of everything I represented. He showed me the photographs again. He had more of them this time. The same as the ones you have there. I gave in and did what he wanted. I dismissed the case. I didn't ever speak to the defence solicitor but he knew to make the petition for dismissal and he didn't seem too surprised when I accepted it. Everyone else was.”
“Who was the man who spoke to you?”
“I don't know his name for sure but h
e told me to call him Scott.”
“Was this the man?” Alex asked, showing a photograph of Stevenson.
“Yes, that's him. Have you caught him for something else?”
“In a way, yes, he is in custody, at least his body is. He was murdered last week. Didn't you see it in the news?”
“No, I've been away for the last few days. I didn't watch television and didn't look at any newspapers. I can't say I'm sorry he's dead, but where does this leave me?”
“It's not for me to tell you what to do but my report will go straight to the Chief Constable and copies will then go to the procurator fiscal and to the Lord President. I hardly think it appropriate for you to remain on the bench, but that's not my decision. You may wish to jump before you're pushed. There could also be criminal proceedings for 'perverting the course of justice,' you don't need me to tell you. Again, it's not my decision.”
Alex stood, lifted the photographs, and walked out the door, choosing not to offer the customary handshake. Sandra came scuttling along behind.
The rain had abated by the time they left the building, although it looked more like a lull before the next storm and they took advantage to race back to their vehicle.
“That was a bit harsh,” Sandra said as they were making their way, but she immediately regretted her words seeing the thunderous look on Alex's face.
“Harsh?” Alex stopped dead. “I ought to have been a lot tougher on the arrogant, cantankerous, old bastard. Who the fuck does he think he is? Can you just imagine how much time and effort went into catching Lazlo? Not to mention what went into preparing the prosecution. Can you just imagine how many more people have been harmed as a result of him keeping his freedom? All because that stupid bastard can't keep his trousers zipped, and then, when he gets caught, his first priority is to preserve his pride. Harsh? I should have bloody well arrested him there and then, cuffed him and dragged him out screaming. Maybe I should go back and do it now?”
Sandra looked him straight in the eye to see if he was being serious but was unable to judge.
“I'll actually enjoy putting this report together,” Alex continued as he resumed walking to the car. He waited until he was seated with the ignition on, so he could activate the hands free and check his phone. Noting Donny had been trying to contact him, he pressed the speed-dial.
“Donny, how'd you get on?” he enquired.
“Not so good, Boss. We were too late, someone got there before us.”
“How bad was it?
“Bad enough, the place was trashed. Connor has sent some of his team to check it over but I reckon they're wasting their time, if the other places are anything to go by.”
“You never know your luck. You know as well as me, it just takes one slip up and we'll be able to nail him. Now take it from the start and go through what happened.”
“Morrison and I met the agent as arranged and we went up to the flat. It's on Shakespeare Street, a second floor so only one above. You know the location, just round the corner from the new Tesco superstore, just off Maryhill Road. The agent went to put the key in the lock but it just pushed open. There were claw marks on the door frame. It looked as if a crowbar was used to force it. The cuts were too large for it to have been a chisel. There had been one Mortise and one Yale holding it but both had been prised open and the wood was splintered on the door. We made the agent stay behind and we had a quick look around inside.
“I'm guessing Black had already made his exit a while ago. There were dirty pots and plates in the sink but they looked as if they'd been there for some time. The milk in the fridge was dated up on Saturday. The place had been ransacked the same as Stevenson's with drawers and shelves emptied and furnishings slashed, but somehow I got the feeling he was just going through his paces, not expecting to find anything.
“Black hadn't been short of money. It was a two-bedroom flat, more than you'd expect a poor student to be able to afford on his own. He'd paid the deposit and first month's rent in cash and subsequent months by bank transfer. The flat had been let unfurnished and judging by the contents he certainly had no shortage of cash to splash. There was a new looking 'Reids' leather suite in the lounge as well as a 'La-Z-Boy' chair. He also had a Samsung fifty-inch 3D telly mounted on the wall. All of that is a good few grand's worth. The kitchen had the best of appliances and a solid oak dining table and chairs. All of them were new looking. Another wall mounted telly in the bedroom and lots of designer labels in the clothes. The second bedroom had been turned into an office, complete with desks and chairs. It had a high speed BT internet connection linked into a couple of powerful looking computer towers but same story as before, the machines had been smashed and the storage removed. There were two big filing cabinets with their contents ripped out and strewn across the floor, but I think all the important stuff will have been removed, either by Black himself, before he ran, or by the intruder. I did see a lot of invoices and receipts lying about and I'm hoping that when we get a chance for a proper look I'll find his internet and website registration details so we can go to the servers and find out what's gone through them.
“Oh, one more thing. There was a 'cardex' system sitting on the desk. Only blank cards were left in it so the contents have been removed. Hopefully it was by Black, before he left, but if it wasn't him it means the murderer has everyone's contact details. It could explain how he found David Kerr but that would also mean the break-in was before today and still gone unreported.”
“Okay, what else have you got for me?”
“A couple of things, this was taking a while so Phil's gone on to the bank himself along with one of the uniforms. That was some time ago so he'll likely be back at Pitt Street now. I'm just finishing here and I'll be on my way back in a few minutes. Other than that, we're trying to get archive data from the 'Alone in Glasgow' site but nothing's through yet. We have access to the Harbour flat arranged for 2pm. You might want me to take that. And we've also traced one of the girls. Her name's Carol Sneddon and she's a Business Studies student. I've checked, she's in an exam at the moment, but I've arranged for her to be picked up as she leaves the building and brought to the office. It should be about 3pm.”
“I'd like Sandra to be the one interviewing the girl as it will seem less threatening. I'll sit in on that. You take the Harbour search. We'll be back in about half an hour so we should see you before you leave, to compare notes. Gonna' refill the filter so it'll be ready when we get in? I could murder a coffee.”
“Sure thing, Boss, I've checked in and I'm hoping to have the provisional report from White Street any time now. We're getting some feedback on the house to house checks and I've asked for any CCTV from Byres Road or thereabouts as well.”
“Fine, we're on our way.”
Chapter 12
The report from White Street was already on Warren's desk along with a freshly poured cup of scalding black coffee. He sat down with Sandra, Donny and Phil Morrison to review what they had.
Alex's prediction had been correct and Phil's skin was a dusky brown colour after his vacation. He didn't even have to sunbathe, it just seemed to happen naturally because he, along with his wife and children, spent many hours walking around sun-drenched theme parks and several more in open-air swimming pools and water parks, none of which provided much shade. Even the high factor sun creams and blocks did little to stop his skin from scorching. Phil wasn't too much younger than Alex and he was clever with an annoyingly sharp sense of humour. He'd graduated with a social sciences degree and worked for several years in human resources management, specialising in engineering training. Then the company he worked for closed down after its German parent company realised it could save labour cost by relocating their manufacturing to Eastern Europe and India. Phil was unable to find another similar job but he wasn't out of work for long. First of all, he took a job as a Community Warden before applying to the police. He progressed quickly and had shown resourcefulness and Alex was pleased to have him in his team. The break fr
om work had been good for Phil. He looked strong and alert. He was smaller and less robust than Alex but was nevertheless fit and muscular, aided by his twice-weekly gym sessions. He had a pleasant round face, smiling brown eyes, slightly unruly brown curls and twin dimples when he smiled, which was often.
“Good to see you back, Phil. I trust from the look of you that you've had a good holiday? You're not too jet lagged?”
“Thanks, Boss. The holiday was terrific although I could do with another week off to recover from all the exercise. The kids loved it and didn't want to leave. I'll tell you all about it later. We flew back in on Saturday morning so I've just about readjusted to the time difference.”
“You've not been enthusiastically telling me how you've already broken the case so I'm guessing you didn't find too much at the bank.”
“Good guess, Boss. All of the staff were helpful enough and gave me access to the vault and showed me how to open the box. The contents are interesting but they don't take us very much further. I catalogued everything and loaded it into evidence bags for the techies to check out and I've left the bags with them. There was a wad of cash, just short of twenty grand and bank records showing deposits into an offshore account totalling another quarter mill. There was also a box with small clear stones individually packed. I think that they're diamonds, and if they are, the value will be in tens if not hundreds of thousands, but I'm afraid that's the lot.”
Donny whistled, hearing the values being discussed but Alex just looked on with a glum expression on his face.
“Pity, the only thing that does is give us an indication of how much money he's being making, but no leads towards the murderer.
“Okay, I want us to touch base, run through what we've got and where we're going. Sandra, you summarise and everyone else cut in where necessary.”