Stranglehold

by Rena George

  'Remember me, Shona?' he said. 'I'm a police officer. I need to find something Mandy says is in her bureau. Can you help me find it? She said it's in a red box.'

  Shona narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not at all sure he should be in the house. 'The bureau is in the next room,' she said. 'But I can't leave the children.'

  Drummond smiled at the curiosity on the little faces as they turned to look at him. 'No problem. I'm sure I'll be able to find it.'

  The room next-door appeared to be a study. He crossed to the bureau, opening it as he scanned the bundle of papers. He couldn't see a red box. 'Try the top drawer,' Shona called to him from the other room. He did and found the box nestling beside a pile of neatly stacked folders. It contained a few receipts and a folded note in neat handwriting. Judy Meadows, 3, New Pasture Lane, Shawlands, Glasgow. He put the note in his pocket and replaced the box, sliding the drawer closed. He ducked his head into the playroom as he left. 'Thanks for your help, Shona.' The girl gave him an unsmiling nod.

  Drummond called Rougvie as he hurried to his car. 'Any news from the hospital?'

  'Not yet. I'm in McLeod's office at the bank. The staff say he hasn't been in today. We've had a sniff around his office but haven't found anything that throws any light on where he might be.'

  'I have an address in Glasgow. I'm going there now. You need to have a word with the minister of McLeod's church. Make sure you speak to his wife as well. Angus has been filling her head with stories about Rachel.'

  'Will do,' Rougvie said. 'I'll also keep in touch with the hospital. I'll let you know when I have any more news.'

  'Thanks, Nick,' Drummond said as he raced through the Inverness traffic.

  He waited until he'd reached Aviemore before checking in again with DCI Buchan. 'How's it going with our man?' he asked when she picked up his call.

  'Still no DNA results,' she said over a heavy sigh. 'I'm letting him cool off for a while.'

  'Is he definitely our strangler? You're not sounding so confident, Joey.'

  'He's our man all right. I know it and I can't wait to wipe the smug leer from his face when I charge him with the murders.' She paused. 'Where the hell are you, Drummond? You should be here by now.'

  'I'm driving past Aviemore. It's slow going. I think the world and his wife are out on the A9 today.'

  'I don't know what you're up to, Drummond. Is this another tale you're spinning me? You could be sunning yourself on a beach in Cornwall now for all I know.'

  Drummond laughed. 'I promise you I'm not in Cornwall, unless I've missed a turning somewhere.'

  'You better not have.'

  'I do have a bit of a detour to make when I get to Glasgow. There's an address I have to check out.'

  He could almost see Buchan's eyebrows shoot up. 'Does it have anything to do with the case you're supposed to be on?'

  'It's Angus McLeod. He's attacked his wife and left her for almost dead. I've had a tip-off that he's at an address in Glasgow.'

  'Sounds like you might need some backup.'

  'Thanks, Joey. I'll contact you when I get closer.' He wasn't passing on any address, not yet. The last thing he wanted was for some flat-footed uniforms to go charging in and chasing him off. McLeod was his collar and he wasn't planning on letting him slip the net.

  Drummond's mobile buzzed and his heart gave a little jolt when he saw the caller was Rougvie. Was he about to be told that Rachel had died? He was still fired up by how brutally she'd been beaten. His hands tightened on the wheel. 'Nick. Hi.' He didn't get a chance to say more when Rougvie cut in. 'Rachel's out of theatre. She's going to be fine,' he said. 'She'll need a spell of rest and recuperation before she's back to normal but the medic I spoke to said she was a strong woman.'

  An involuntary smile spread across Drummond's face. He'd been picturing those curious little faces at Mandy Stranger's nursery and wondering how Rachel's young family would cope if their mother was suddenly wrenched away from them. 'What about the baby?' He was bracing himself for Rougvie to inform him that she'd lost the child.

  'Oh, didn't I say? It's a little girl.'

  Drummond's smile widened. He was glad Rougvie couldn't see him getting so soft about a family who had nothing to do with him…except he did have a connection. He felt responsible for Rachel and her children. He had already let Emily down and she had died. He needed to look out for the family she left behind. He swallowed the lump in his throat. And that meant bringing Angus McLeod to justice.

  Rougvie ended the call and Drummond glanced at his satnav. It showed he was thirty minutes from the Shawlands address he had punched in for McLeod, the place where, by all accounts, he had set up his little love nest with this Judy woman.

  He needed to do this by the book. Every muscle in his body itched to hurl the man against a wall and beat the living daylights out of him for what he'd done to his wife.

  But there were other punishments awaiting McLeod. He could be patient.

  New Pasture Lane, in Shawlands, was lined with grey terraced houses. It was the kind of respectable place where net curtains twitched when neighbours had visitors. The curtains would soon be on overdrive.

  Drummond parked a few doors down from number 3 and stared at the car parked in the drive. It was McLeod's car. He could of course have ditched it here and taken off elsewhere, but why would he? The man had no idea anyone had this address. He would feel safe at this house. Drummond was imagining him toasting his toes in front of a roaring fire with the child he'd bought that pink rabbit for playing at his feet. He was here all right. He reached for his phone and tapped in Joey Buchan's number. 'Send in the troops, Joey. Angus McLeod is at home.'

  'What's the address?' she came back quickly.

  Drummond told her.

  'OK, sit tight. We're on our way.'

  Every muscle in Drummond's body tensed as his eyes travelled over the end of terrace house. He was weighing up the man's possible escape routes if he tried to get away. The houses backed onto similar properties in the next road. They would have to get people round there.

  His face split into a grim smile. But that wouldn't happen. Angus McLeod was going nowhere, except back to the station – in handcuffs.

  Thirty-Three

  Drummond's eyes were glued to the driving mirror as the two police cars came silently into the road and pulled up behind him far enough away to be out of sight of the house. Joey Buchan was getting out of the first vehicle and Drummond walked quickly to meet her. This was the dangerous time. If Angus McLeod saw them now, he would run. 'We need to get a couple of bodies round the back,' he ordered.

  Joey made some hand gestures to the officers with her as two others got out of the second vehicle. They waited for Joey and Drummond to approach the front door before following them up the path and round to the back of the property.

  The blonde woman who opened the door was heavily pregnant and they could hear a child crying from somewhere inside the house. The commotion started before she had even raised a surprised eyebrow at them. Behind her McLeod was racing across the hall and through the back of the house.

  'The back door!' Drummond shouted, flying past the DCI. 'Grab him!' he yelled. 'Don't lose him.'

  'But he needn't have worried. One of the two burly officers who had stationed themselves at the rear of the property had pinned Angus to the ground while the other grabbed his arms behind his back and was slapping handcuffs on him. They yanked him back up to his feet.

  'Is this what you're after, guv?' The stout PC grinned, giving McLeod a little push.

  Drummond stopped, catching his breath. He gave McLeod an icy smile. 'Yes,' he said. 'He's the one.'

  Angus McLeod's face was contorted with rage, but he'd stopped struggling. 'You'll pay for this, Drummond,' he hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits.

  'Put him in the car,' Drummond said, turning his back on the man and walking back to the house.

  The pregnant woman was standing on the path and beginning to whimper. 'What's happening? I don't unders
tand.' She sounded dazed as she wrapped protective arms around her bulge.

  Drummond took her arm and gently led her back into the house. The neighbours behind the twitching curtains had had enough entertainment for one day.

  She shook off his hold. 'Why are you arresting my husband?'

  'Angus McLeod is your husband?' Drummond stared at her.

  'No!' she screeched back at him. 'You've got the wrong man. My husband is Alan Rogers. You've got the wrong man!'

  Drummond screwed up his face. Alan Rogers! McLeod was calling himself Alan Rogers? Why would he want to connect himself to the Stornoway banker who had tried to abuse him all those years ago? The criminal psychologists would have a whale of a time with this. Drummond could still visualize that picture of the banker's body dangling from the end of a rope. He shook his head slowly. Angus McLeod was a piece of work.

  The woman made another attempt to push past him to get to McLeod, but Drummond blocked her way. He could still hear a child was crying. 'Shouldn't we check on that bairn?' he said.

  Judy Meadows turned back and he followed her into a front room where a screaming toddler had hauled itself up the bars of a playpen. She ignored the child, turning furious blue eyes on Drummond. 'You'll have a lot of apologizing to do when you see you've arrested the wrong man.' She was pulling a phone from her apron pocket and was tapping at it. 'Mum? It's Judy. Look, something's happened. Can you come over?'

  Drummond could see she was trying to stay calm. 'Yes, the police. They've arrested Alan and they won't tell me why.' She nodded at the phone. 'Thanks, Mum,' she said, ending the call before turning her fury back on Drummond. 'You've got the wrong man. You do know that, don't you?'

  'That's a chance we'll have to take but if you want to help your husband, I should contact your solicitor.'

  Judy's eyes filled with tears again as she shook her head. 'I don't understand any of this. It's all a mistake. Why won't you believe me.'

  'How long have you been married?' Drummond asked.

  'What? What does that matter?'

  Drummond held her stare as he waited for a response. 'Almost a year,' she said, going to the crying child. She bent over the wooden rail and picked her up, holding her close, murmuring soothing words as she patted the child's back. Gradually the crying stopped, and the woman carried the baby back to her chair.

  'What kind of business is your husband in?'

  The woman looked up sharply. 'Stop trying to quiz me. I'm sure you know quite well that he's an insurance executive.'

  'Does that mean he travels a lot?'

  She nodded and drew the child closer. 'We don't see much of him during the week. He has to drive all over the country staying overnight in Travelodges, but he phones regularly.'

  'That must be difficult,' Drummond said, forcing himself to control his rising temper. Angus McLeod had totally deceived this poor woman. While she lived here looking after his child and preparing for the arrival of another, he was strutting around Inverness acting out the farce of being the respectable bank manager and God-fearing churchman. He wondered what the man's staff, never mind Rachel, would say if they knew about the little set up he had here. He was living a second life as husband and father to a totally different family. Could this have been why Emily left home? Had she discovered her stepfather's little secret? Had she told Rachel? He turned away; his expression grim. They still weren't sure if Emily had been another victim of the strangler. If that was true and the man Joey was currently holding in a cell really was the killer then it let McLeod off the hook, for that at least.

  They still didn't know for sure that the solicitor, Dalrymple was their man. Drummond was keeping an open mind.

  His eye was taken to a picture of Angus McLeod in a frame on a bookcase on the far wall. Drummond stared at it. They knew the man was responsible for beating up Rachel. Could he also have killed Emily?

  His train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the front door. The caller hadn't waited for it to be opened. The woman rushed in and flew across the room, throwing her arms around Judy and the baby. Her appearance sent Judy into more floods of tears.

  'Everything is fine, darling. We'll sort this,' the woman soothed, stroking Judy's hair and glaring at Drummond. 'You'd better have a good excuse for this. What are you doing here?'

  'It's no good, Mum,' Judy said. 'He won't tell you. They've taken Alan away and they won't explain why.'

  Judy's mother kept up her hostile stance. 'Is that right?' she demanded. 'Have you arrested Alan?'

  'He's helping us with enquiries.'

  'I'll take that as a yes, then. What's he done?'

  Drummond kept his voice even. 'Like I said, he's helping us with enquiries.'

  'And you're not going to tell us what they are?'

  'I've told you as much as I can.'

  'In that case, if you have nothing more to tell us why are you still here? I want to talk to my daughter in private.' She began to shoo him to the door.

  Drummond took a card from his pocket and put it on a nearby table. 'This is where you can reach me if you need to get in touch.'

  'Don't hold your breath,' Judy called after him as he left the room.

  Back in his car Drummond tried to collect his thoughts. He felt bad that this poor young woman had been caught up in the mess made by Angus. None of it was her fault.

  He frowned, going over his conversation with her. Why had McLeod used the name Alan Rogers? Could he have taken on Rogers' identity as well as his name? Was this some kind of twisted obsession to keep the deceased banker alive?

  It crossed Drummond's mind that Angus McLeod could be on some kind of guilt trip. Had he murdered Rogers? He still believed his father, the dubiously respectable Free Church minister of Stornoway, the Rev Murdo McLeod, had also been involved. He was convinced this had been what Sarah Duff was referring to when she said how much Murdo had done for his son.

  He rubbed his hands over his face trying to clear his mind. He had to focus. If all this had really happened and Angus had killed before, he might not think twice about silencing Emily, especially if she had been threatening to expose him.

  Drummond felt the nausea heave in the pit of his stomach. Why did this stuff still affect him so much? He was a highly trained Glasgow cop. He was supposed to be a hard man. The villains who rubbed him up the wrong way certainly thought so. It was the women that got to him…the vulnerable women. He couldn't deal with men who treated women badly.

  He was already thinking about Angus's mother, Mary Ann, and her lover, James Shaw. Where were they now? Were they even alive? Had McLeod killed them and buried their bodies somewhere? He shuddered. He hardly dared think about that.

  Angus could only have been about ten years old when his mother left, but who knew what kind of twisted evil the old minister had filled the boy's head with. Drummond swallowed.

  He was trying to imagine the minister's shame and fury when his wife's infidelity was so publicly revealed. Could the man have persuaded the young Angus to help him murder his mother? A shudder went through him. He'd been convinced that Angus was their serial killer, the one who had strangled all those sex workers. But then James Mortimer Dalrymple had crawled out of the woodwork.

  It looked pretty conclusive given the strangler's latest victim, Joanna Flugg, had identified him. All they were waiting for was the DNA confirmation.

  Angus McLeod may not be the strangler, but he could still be a serial killer. Drummond narrowed his eyes at the road ahead as he fired up the car engine.

  Joey Buchan was waiting for Drummond outside the interview room. He had briefed her on the phone about Angus McLeod's background and his suspicions about the man, but he had to keep reminding himself that they were only suspicions. At the very least, McLeod would be charged with the assault on Rachel, possibly attempted murder. And then, if he really had gone through a marriage ceremony with Judy Meadows, there was the possible bigamy. But Drummond wanted more than that. He wished it was Nick Rougvie he had with him, he c
ould do with the DS's insight, but Joey was pretty savvy too. He knew he could depend on her.

  Angus McLeod sat bolt upright as they entered the interview room. He fixed his attention on Drummond, totally ignoring Joey.

  The officers settled themselves in front of the man as he was informed the interview was being recorded.

  'What's your name?' Drummond asked.

  The man's eyes slid away, but Drummond persisted. 'Your name please.'

  'You know my name.'

  'For the recording,' Joey Buchan said.

  Drummond saw the muscles in the man's jaw twitch. 'Angus McLeod,' he said.

  Drummond waited a beat, his eyes still on McLeod's face. 'You haven't asked how your wife, Rachel, is. Why would that be?'

  McLeod looked up, frowning. 'Rachel? What's wrong with Rachel? Has something happened?'

  Drummond could hardly believe the man's gall. 'She was badly beaten and left for dead,' he said coldly. 'You left her for dead, Angus.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about. How is my wife? I need to go to her.' He attempted to stand up, but the uniformed officer behind him pushed him back into his chair.

  Drummond sighed. 'I hope you're not planning to deny this, Angus. We have a witness who saw you running from the house.'

  'Did this witness say they saw me attack my wife?'

  'No, but…'

  'Then you have no witness,' McLeod cut in, sitting back, arms folded, as Drummond and Joey exchanged a glance.

  'Do you want to know how your wife is?'

  'How is she?' Angus frowned.

  'Not great, but she is alive.' Drummond gave the man a slow smile. 'Rachel is in hospital and I'm told she can't wait to tell us what you did to her.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about. Rachel isn't well, ask anyone. She makes things up. You can't trust her.'

  Drummond could feel his fists clenching. He so wanted to smash one of them into the man's smug face. What kind of sick bastard brutally attacks the pregnant mother of his children leaving her bloody and semi-conscious on the kitchen floor? How could any man do that and feel no remorse? The blood was pumping through his veins. He knew Joey was giving him a concerned look. She was right. He must not allow his feelings about this man to cloud his judgement.