A Pound of Flesh

Chapter 37





Sunday afternoons in Kelvingrove Park were becoming something of a regular event, Solly thought, pushing the pram along the path, Rosie walking quietly by his side. Abigail was sleeping now, the motion from the pram having soothed her at last and the two parents were enjoying a little respite from the baby’s crying. It had not been a good Saturday night. Abby had woken them both around midnight and, despite feeds and changes of nappies, she had wailed incessantly for hours, Solly and Rosie taking turns to walk her up and down, wearied and anxious, looking for any signs that would explain the child’s malaise. One little red cheek had Rosie suggesting that the baby might have begun teething, but since it was impossible to ask Abigail herself, Solly had simply nodded, letting his wife rub some gel on the little one’s gums.

Now they were walking side by side and it was a considerable relief to them both that the baby was sleeping soundly.

‘Remember when we used to go over there for breakfast?’ Rosie murmured, pointing at a riverside cafe.

Solly nodded. The carefree days when they had risen late at weekends and made the day their own seemed like another life altogether. Rosie’s tone was wistful and he knew that, just for a moment, she longed for that freedom again.

‘We can all go when she’s a bit older,’ he suggested gently, taking one hand off the handle of the pram to reach out and squeeze his wife’s gloved hand.

Rosie smiled and nodded. ‘Aye, if she gets to be a bit older,’ she threatened, jokingly. Then her face took on a tenderness that never failed to touch Solly’s heart. ‘Poor wee mite,’ she whispered, ‘no wonder she’s so sound; must be as tired as we are by now.’

They continued to walk along the path, heading in their usual direction towards the pond where a resident grey heron could usually be found.

‘Look,’ Rosie said. ‘The bird man. He’s got a load of people with him today.’

As they drew nearer, they could see the tall, slim figure of a man surrounded by a couple of families, all looking up as he spoke to them about the different birds in the park. As Solly and Rosie slowed down, the bird man took out a tin of seed then placed a little into the hands of each of the children. They watched and waited as the children stretched out their palms, standing stock still offering the seed to any little birds that might be brave enough to venture from their perches in the bushes and trees that surrounded the pond.

Sure enough, a great tit appeared, landed on one of the girls’ hands, pecked then flew off again. A low murmur of pleasure came from the families and Solly and Rosie exchanged glances.

‘That’ll be us one of these days,’ Solly murmured, moving past the little group. Rosie caught his arm and gave him a hug. Things might have changed for ever with the arrival of their daughter in their lives but there was so much to look forward to and Abby wouldn’t always be a little baby whose every need seemed a mystery to him. As he glanced back at the families, Solly saw the little girl who had fed the bird taking her father’s hand and smiling up at him. That would be him, one day, he thought again. And the child’s innocence gladdened his heart.

Smiling still as they made their way along the narrow path, Solly’s mind was blissfully free from any thought of the police cases that had commanded so much of his time and energy.

There was no premonition of danger, no hint on this peaceful Sunday afternoon that the man whose profile he had helped develop was at this very moment threatening the life of another young woman.


Barbara woke, wondering why she felt so thirsty and why everything hurt so much. Just as the darkness refused to turn to light, Barbara remembered where she was. It was at that same moment her bladder decided to release its contents, warmth flooding her trousers and with it came a sense of helplessness that made her weep. Then the events of the Sunday afternoon began to come back to her.

Stepping down into the chilled interior of that garage space, everything in the detective constable’s head had screamed out that she should turn around, call this in at once and wait for backup. She had been trained to follow certain procedures when facing a potentially dangerous situation. Hadn’t she? So why had she meekly followed the suspect down to the basement? Why had she asked such obviously pointed questions?

He’d sussed her pretty quickly for a cop, hadn’t he? Yet there were some moments that Barbara simply could not remember, like that blow to her head as she’d turned away, still pretending to examine the white Mercedes car. Now she was closer to that vehicle than she had ever wanted to be, her body crushed into its boot, legs and arms fastened tightly, duct tape preventing her from crying out. Barbara’s head throbbed as she tried to make out any sounds that could give her a clue as to where she was being held captive, but there were none.

The cold was intense and her body, already rigid from its enforced position in the car boot, was probably suffering from a mild case of hypothermia. Wetting herself wouldn’t help any, either, she thought gloomily. Was she still in the garage then? Not knowing how long she had lain unconscious in the dark made Barbara unsure whether it was still Sunday or not. The lack of any noise from the premises upstairs suggested it could be night-time. She tried to remember if the opening times had been listed anywhere on the front door but thinking only made her head ache and she gave up, concentrating instead on her immediate needs. She wanted desperately to get out of her enforced imprisonment. And her throat ached with thirst. How long ago had she drunk that coffee in the reception area? It was impossible to tell.

For a moment Barbara considered her situation.

Why was she still alive, trussed up like a big fat turkey? The mechanic had bumped off several women with impunity, hadn’t he? So why spare a single policewoman, especially when Barbara had posed a threat to him? Did he imagine that one more corpse would change his life sentence? Perhaps, she thought. Maybe he reckoned that killing a cop would bring down the whole weight of the law upon him.

Cling to that thought, she told herself, blinking away the tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. Don’t give in to despair.

She recalled the intensity of those dark eyes boring into her own. He had known in an instant that the policewoman had identified him.

Would he already have fled the country, she wondered? Or, a more hideous thought, was he going to come back for her?