The Harlequin by Sinclair Macleod

Author:Sinclair Macleod [Macleod, Sinclair]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780993130700
Publisher: Marplesi
Published: 2020-03-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Russell’s phone rang at quarter to seven the next morning and he knew what he was going to hear before he even looked at the display to see who was calling. Ellen Clarkson’s name on the screen only confirmed his fears.

“Sorry to disturb you sir, but a body’s been found in Ruchill Park.”

“You didn’t disturb me, Ellen. I’ve been waiting on the call most of the night. Hastings?”

“Looks like it. The chief super’s on his way to the scene, will I tell him you’ll get him there?”

“Aye. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“It’s at the flagpole, so you should come in off the Benview Street entrance.”

“Cheers.”

For Russell the drive to the park was filled with dread. Another death meant another layer of remorse and regret for him. Life as a detective was only satisfying when he was getting justice for the victim of a crime, but failing to catch the person responsible always brought a feeling of failure, and when the culprit used his freedom to continue killing it was even worse. In his career, Russell had never come across anything quite like this. There was obviously a motive, revenge was indeed a strong one but the cold way that he had gone about it made this a very strange murderer. Revenge was normally about raging passion not clinical calculation.

He arrived at the park twenty-five minutes after Clarkson’s call. He drove through the gates and up to where the blue and white tape fluttered in a strong breeze. The park sat on a hill that left it exposed to the elements and a squally shower was drenching everyone when Russell drew to a halt just outside the cordon. He suited up and walked in the direction of yet another body.

The flagpole was situated on a mound that offered a view across the whole city. A spiral path led up to it and at the top an inner cordon had been established. McLelland was waiting for Russell when he ducked under the tape.

“Good morning, Tom,” the chief super greeted him with a grim look.

“What’s the story?” Russell asked.

“The park ranger found him this morning during his first patrol of the day. It’s another level of freakishness.”

The situation of the body made it difficult to erect a tent around it and instead the technicians had surrounded the pole with screens. When the two detectives arrived a female technician stepped out of the screened off area to allow them to look at the body.

Gregor Hastings had been tied to the bottom of the flagpole; a rope had pulled his head back, revealing a line of crimson death that was traced across his throat. His eyelids appeared to have been stitched to his forehead, leaving his eyes open and staring off into the distance. He was dressed in one of the harlequin suits that had been used during the performance in George Square; it hung loosely on his angular frame and it appeared he was naked under it.

“Bloody hell,” Russell muttered in disgust as he took in the terrible sight.

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