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    A Just Punishment
    A Just Punishment
    A Just Punishment
    Ebook233 pages3 hours

    A Just Punishment

    By G R Jordan

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    About this ebook

    A former convict, hung, drawn and quartered. Macleod called by name for his former actions. Can the Lewis detective find the righter of wrongs before the killer executes those close to Macleod?

    As his partner recovers from a devastating accident, Macleod faces a hidden face from his past who is determined to see justice truly done. But as the killer punishes each justifiable victim, Macleod feels the target of the attacks is moving coming closer to home. In a devastating finale, Macleod must rely on his younger Sergeant, Hope McGrath, more than he has ever before.

    The pain you deal will be visited upon you tenfold!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherG R Jordan
    Release dateNov 19, 2020
    ISBN9781914073014
    A Just Punishment
    Author

    G R Jordan

    GR Jordan is a self-published author who finally decided at forty that in order to have an enjoyable lifestyle, his creative beast within would have to be unleashed. His books mirror that conflict in life where acts of decency contend with self-promotion, goodness stares in horror at evil and kindness blind-sides us when we are at our worst. Corrupting our world with his parade of wondrous and horrific characters, he highlights everyday tensions with fresh eyes whilst taking his methodical, intelligent mainstays on a roller-coaster ride of dilemmas, all the while suffering the banter of their provocative sidekicks.A graduate of Loughborough University where he masqueraded as a chemical engineer but ultimately played American football, GR Jordan worked at changing the shape of cereal flakes and pulled a pallet truck for a living. Watching vegetables freeze at -40C was another career highlight and he was also one of the Scottish Highlands blind air traffic controllers. Having flirted with most places in the UK, he is now based in the Isle of Lewis in Scotland where his free time is spent between raising a young family with his wife, writing, figuring out how to work a loom and caring for a small flock of chickens. Luckily his writing is influenced by his varied work and life experience as the chickens have not been the poetical inspiration he had hoped for!

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      Book preview

      A Just Punishment - G R Jordan

      Chapter 1

      Jane hobbled to the front door, barely able to support her own weight. Her hands were flung out on either side of the hall as she rocked from wall to wall, slowly making her way forward. The dressing gown flapped open and she felt the wind from the open door through her light pyjamas.

      ‘Jane, where the hell are you going?’

      ‘I’m fine, Hazel, sit back down and drink that coffee. You’ve done nothing but run after me and I’m grateful, but some things a woman has to do on her own or it just isn’t worth it.’

      Out in the driveway of their house, Macleod stopped and turned back to his front door. He watched as through it came his partner, Jane, her brunette hair and robust figure compromised by the injuries she had received from an accident with a bus over a month ago. She had made better progress than they thought she would, but then, her spirit was undeniable. Together with Hazel Mackintosh, breast cancer survivor and changed woman because of it, Jane had managed to get herself fairly mobile to the point that she could manage five or six steps at a time. But this charge outside the front door was at least three times further than she had managed before.

      As she stumbled up to him, Macleod opened his arms and she fell into them. He held her up and found her beaming at him. ‘You don’t clear off for a day’s work without a goodbye kiss from your babe.’

      Macleod laughed at the word babe. His woman, yes, but babe. Being in his sixties and Jane in her fifties, the word babe was wholly inappropriate but then that was Jane. She could tease just at the right time and he found her at times outrageous, if always endearing.

      ‘It’s my first day back in a month, woman,’ he said. ‘Is there no leaving me alone?’

      ‘Never, not with those younger women trying to get their hands on you.’

      They both laughed and were joined by Hazel Mackintosh, forensic investigator until she had taken time off after her cancer treatment.

      ‘I’ll take care of her, Seoras,’ said Hazel, taking the strain from him.

      ‘Oh yes, time to crack open the gin. Cocktails, that’s what you’re missing.’

      As he drove the car out of his driveway, taking the back roads out of the Black Isle onto the main road into Inverness, Macleod found himself breathing somewhat heavily. His last meaningful contact with his senior officers had been walking off at Fort Augustus and deliberately ignoring DCI Dalwhinnie. His line manager had sent a letter telling him to take a month off on compassionate leave to look after Jane, but he felt it was also a defensive manoeuvre, one to keep him and the offended upper echelons apart. What did he care? Retirement was not that far away.

      Driving over the Kessock Bridge, he looked down on the football stadium to his left. The season had started and soon the place would be filled on Saturdays. Life just rolled on. There was the usual delay in crossing the bridge as the cars congregated at the roundabout beyond the stadium until the traffic lights let everyone move on. There was talk of bypass lanes and that, but there was always talk.

      The day was cool but crisp, autumn making its bid to oust summer and Macleod was delighted that the heat was going. He was happier in the cold, at home with the snow which was something for a man from Lewis. Twenty minutes later, he pulled the car up into a spot in the car park at the Inverness police station.

      Rather than enter via the main door, Macleod skirted around to the rear and past someone smoking discreetly by a car. There was a time when you would have sat in the canteen and puffed away, but he was glad that these days smokers had to take their filthy habit outside. He had never smoked, nor drank for that matter, and maybe that was why he was in as good a shape as he was in his sixties.

      Sneaking in quietly, he managed to avoid anyone and even tiptoed his way across the empty office that usually hosted his team, making his way into his own office. On the desk was a large cardboard box and Macleod looked at the front of it, seeing it had been delivered by a courier. He thought nothing of it and lifted the box to take it to his round desk where he held his more intimate team briefings.

      He felt his shoulders give a little cry as he lifted it and fought hard to carry the box over to the round table where he unceremoniously dumped it. That was a bit much for a first action, he thought. I hope they still have some decent coffee.

      There was a rap at the door. Through the frosted glass, he saw a figure he recognised.

      ‘Come in.’

      ‘You ready to go?’ said a female voice. He turned fully now to look at the new arrival. A crisp and tight white t-shirt had an open leather jacket over it and was set off by a dark leather belt with some flashes on it. There was a pair of black jeans and boots with a flat heel.

      ‘You look good, Hope. It’s good to see you dressing your way and not to fit in.’

      Hope McGrath, Macleod’s DS, smiled broadly and then pointed at his tie and shirt. ‘You still fitting in?’

      ‘This is my style,’ he retorted. ‘From a classier era, you see.’

      The pair laughed and then embraced. ‘Good to have you back, Seoras. We’re not flavour of the month after your cold shoulder of Dalwhinnie, but the DCI has kept most of it off our backs.’

      ‘Well, you only have me part-time for the next two months, Hope, so you’d better be ready to keep carrying the can.’

      There was another knock on the door and two faces looked in. One pushed a pair of thick-rimmed glasses up her nose while the man stepped forward and extended a hand towards Macleod.

      ‘Good to see you back, sir,’ said Ross and shook hands vigorously. He was rather shocked when Macleod stepped forward and embraced him.

      ‘Thanks for everything, Ross; you did good down in Fort William. And so did you, Kirsten.’ Macleod embraced the short blonde woman. ‘You’ve all been more than colleagues, so I thank you. But it’s back to the grindstone. So, five minutes time, McGrath, I want a briefing on what I’ve missed and then let’s all get in here at ten for a plan of what we have before us.’

      ‘There’s nothing juicy on, Boss,’ said Hope, ‘only routine matters to look into. Thankfully, we’ve had no one with such brutal agendas this month.

      As they cleared the room, Macleod looked at the box but left it and instead opened some mail. After a briefing from Hope, he then saw his team and planned out the day. A call from the DCI took care of another hour and after he had shot through a backlog of emails, he finally got round to looking at his box. With a pair of scissors, he cut through the packaging tape holding the lid down and carefully pulled back the cardboard flaps before looking inside. When he did, Macleod froze for a moment, staring at the contents, then he walked calmly to the telephone on his desk and rang an internal number.

      ‘Miss Nakamura, yes, thank you for your kind wishes but I rather need you right now in my office. Yes, it’s urgent. And Jona, bring a suit and gloves.’

      Macleod held himself up against his desk, a distance from the box which was sitting opened on the round conference desk. Thoughts raced through his mind about who would have sent him such a package, but he was struggling to think of anyone who would give enough of a damn about him to bother. He had arrested plenty of people in his time, had some tough cases with really nasty individuals, but no one would send something like this.

      The door was rapped lightly.

      ‘Come in, Miss Nakamura. The item is on the round desk.’

      Jona Nakamura was dressed in a white coverall and wore gloves. The hood hid her black ponytail, but Macleod saw the bulge. The woman who was from Asian descent, had a petite frame but she gave off such a positive ambience that Macleod often thought she should be employed to simply hang around depressed people who would then magically come back to a more positive frame of mind.

      As she looked inside the box, Jona gave a small whimper and reeled back slightly before looking more deeply inside. ‘Do you get a lot of these sorts of deliveries, Inspector?’

      ‘No, in fact, never, if you can believe that. Can you identify the parts?’

      Jona nodded and then stepped away for a moment. She walked to the window and opened it, sucking in a large draught of air. Having satisfied herself she was okay, Jona returned to the package.

      ‘It’s been broken several times to fit the box but that is a right leg of someone. Given the hair on the leg, most likely male, and given the genitalia that’s been split in half, definitely male. Inspector, this is a quarter of a person.’

      ‘I thought as much but why send a quarter of a person to me?’

      There was a rap at the door. ‘Come in,’ said Macleod, ‘but stay away from the conference desk.’

      Hope walked in and stared over at Jona, her head over the box. Hope turned to Macleod. ‘Sir, I have just received a call from a Detective Inspector Dalrimple in Wales. He received a package today and inside were parts of a body.’

      ‘What parts?’ snapped Macleod.

      ‘Shoulder, arm, part of a head. Pretty barbaric. But he said there was a piece of paper inside and it had a name on it.’

      ‘Really? Jona, is there a card in that box?’

      ‘I think so, Inspector, I’ll try and fish it out.’

      Hope stepped forward closer to Macleod. ‘My colleague said it was your name on the card?’

      ‘Just my name?’

      ‘Yes, just your name?’

      Macleod walked over to Jona. ‘What’s on this card?’

      ‘Hang on, I’ll just get it.’ Using a pair of tweezers, Jona lifted the card and placed it in an evidence bag. Then she laid it on the table beside the box. There was dried blood on the card, but it stated one name on it: DI Seoras Macleod.

      ‘Flip it over, Jona, check if there’s anything on the other side.’

      Jona used a pair of tweezers to flip the card and there were words on the other side. The writing was small, so tiny that Macleod could not read it, but Jona stared at it closely.

      ‘Justice that does not require punishment, or a punishment that is not appropriate, is no justice at all. You were meant to be our saviour, Macleod, not theirs.’

      Chapter 2

      Macleod looked through the frosted glass of his office wall from the side his team usually sat on. He had been pushed out to their office by Jona Nakamura who insisted on everyone getting out of the Macleod’s office until she had completed forensics on the box. Feeling a little put out by this, although he knew it was the right decision, Macleod now sat in Ross’s chair waiting for Hope to finish her present phone call. Stewart was busy on the computer already searching up links between Macleod and DI Dalrymple in Wales—cases they had worked, criminals arrested, places they had worked.

      Hope set the receiver down and looked at Macleod with heavy eyes. There was a silence in the room which Macleod felt was unhealthy, but he knew where it was coming from. The team felt he was under attack in some way and that was giving the investigation a sense of foreboding.

      ‘That was DS Lachlan in Kent, sir. He received an arm and another side of the head in the post. Again, your name was on a piece of card and no other message. The pathologist down there is looking at the pieces of the body and I have asked him to co-ordinate with Jona. I think you should make a call to the DCI and make sure we get to run this case as it’s beginning in four different parts of the UK.’

      ‘Four?’ queried Macleod.

      ‘Yes, sir. Just heard from Lachlan that a DS Munroe in Northern Ireland, Belfast to be exact, has received a similar item but this time the other leg and hip. With where they are, they had thought some of the dissident paramilitaries, but I’ll ring them and advise what we know. But we need to bring this case to a central point. With your name and the fact that we are the only ones to have received a message, it should be us to take the case.’

      ‘Of course, it should. I’ll make that call. Ross, get onto our colleagues in Northern Ireland and get all the details about their delivery that you can.’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Ross. ‘By the way, do you know any of these officers who have also received packages?’

      Macleod pondered the names. ‘Dalrymple may have walked the beat with me. Lachlan is familiar, as is Monroe, but there’s plenty of officers with these names. Get me a breakdown of their career paths and I’ll see if there’s a crossover.’

      Macleod spent the next half hour briefing the DCI and discussing options before letting her go to organise a pulling together of the resources and evidence they had. By this time, Jona Nakamura had finished in Macleod’s office and had retreated with her two assistants allowing the Inspector to once again take ownership of his room. Macleod instantly called a meeting at his round table and sent a request for Jona Nakamura to join them as soon as she could.

      ‘Did we get the career records for the other recipients?’ asked Macleod.

      ‘Yes sir,’ replied Ross, ‘and I cross-referenced them, but it was not hard. You started off in Glasgow with these officers on the beat. At the time you were all patrolling officers but two worked in a different station to you, sir, which is why they might not be so familiar. Dalrymple worked with you but the other two were at separate but nearby stations.’

      ‘Seems a bit random,’ said Hope.

      ‘It does until you look at arrest records. It was not easy, but I managed to get a list of who were called to arrests at the time,’ said Stewart. ‘What I mean is I looked at large arrests where you might have expected a pool of constables from several stations to attend in the area. I narrowed it down and by process of elimination, I think—’

      A rap came on the door and Macleod asked the caller to come in. Jona Nakamura appeared, now without her white coverall and instead in a smart pair of green trousers with a quiet orange shirt.

      ‘Join us, please,’ said Macleod and offered Jona a seat.

      Jona was slightly out of breath but she smiled at Macleod. ‘I have a name for the victim,’ she said delightedly.

      ‘Kyle McAvoy,’ said Stewart.

      Jona looked shocked. ‘How did you know?’

      ‘The Inspector helped arrest him along with constables Dalrymple, Lachlan and Munroe. The arresting officer was a DI Forrester, but the report says that several constables carried the suspect out.’

      ‘Who was he, Stewart?’ asked Hope.

      Macleod held his hand up to Stewart. Standing up, he walked away from the round table and stood at his desk looking out of the window to the station car park. ‘Kyle McAvoy was one of the sickest individuals I have ever dealt with and I was fortunate enough to just be running the basics as a constable. I didn’t have to investigate him properly, just assist. He was a child abuser and a killer.’

      ‘How long ago?’ asked Hope.

      ‘What is it, Stewart, thirty years?’

      ‘Record says twenty-eight, sir.’

      ‘Really, that long. I suppose I had only been down in Glasgow three years after my wife had died. Still very green around the gills. McAvoy evaded capture for over six months after he had been identified as the killer behind a string of child and adult victims. When I say adult, they were usually under twenty-one.’

      ‘Boys or girls, sir?’ asked Hope.

      ‘Both. Utter bastard. One of life’s devils. The ones who make you think that there’s no place for compassion in this world. Putting him down would be best, that’s what they said. But after we arrested him, it went to trial; he was convicted and as far as I knew, he was still in prison.’

      ‘Actually, he was released six months ago, sir. Was all done very quietly and under a new name.’

      Macleod looked at the tablet in front of Stewart and scowled. These machines took away all the drama of memory. ‘Well, he’s God’s to deal with now. May He have mercy.’

      ‘That doesn’t seem to be how our sender of the packages sees it,’ said Jona. The Asian woman had sat quietly after being upstaged.

      ‘Sorry, Jona, we kind of cut you off, didn’t we. Please, what have you learnt?’

      ‘Well, the fingerprints confirm that the body is indeed Kyle McAvoy and having spoken to my colleagues around the UK, I think we can safely say the man was hung, drawn, and then quartered.’

      ‘What, like in olden times?’ said Hope disbelievingly.

      ‘Very much so. There are intestines missing. I believe the practice was to hang the victim but not in the drop fashion that we imagine. If you simply drop into the noose, the neck can break, and many died straight away in that fashion. Instead, you gently lowered them into the noose where they slowly choked and when they were close to dying, they were taken down and placed on a slab or a wooden frame. At this point they were pulled apart by the arms and legs.

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