Lay Her Down To Die

By Lesley Price

A crime story set in Glasgow.

The hunt is on to find a serial killer who has already claimed the lives of several women. He works at night, carefully selecting his victims from the dark and noisy confines of Glasgow’s nightclubs.

“He liked to target the shyer ones sometimes; they were so susceptible to flattery. He leaned forward to get a better look. Out of the shadows, his face glowed.”

Cathy Stewart, a divorced, 40-something mother-of-two, is also a private investigator. She’s been hired to find the killer but the bodies keep piling up. With her make-shift team of helpers, she’s determined to get to the truth before DCI Goodfellow, a former colleague whom Cathy both mistrusts and dislikes. What does he have to do with present-day events? And what is he hiding about the past?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lesley Price
• Release date: May 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9782960255904

Lesley Price

Born on the outskirts of London in the swinging sixties, Lesley Price is Scottish by blood and tradition. Moving abroad at an early age, Lesley was educated in international schools in Belgium then returned to finish secondary school in the UK. She enrolled to study languages and mathematics at Glasgow University but, realising that it was not for her, she returned abroad to take up a temping role for a multinational company in the Netherlands.Lesley enjoyed a long and successful career within IT before co-founding her own coaching and training company in Luxembourg. Although writing is not her day job, it was her childhood dream and occupies much of her spare time. She lives with her three children, her French partner, his son and two demanding cats in an eighteenth-century farmhouse in the south of Belgium.

Book preview

Cathy lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as she read the letter once again. The man who’d written it was due to arrive any minute. The letter was formal and advised Cathy of a lucrative proposition, hopefully one of those offers she couldn’t afford to refuse. The writer politely instructed Cathy to make herself available at ten o’clock this Saturday morning. And here she was obeying the summons, albeit a little annoyed at having given in to her curiosity and financial necessity. Her twin daughters were down south for a few weeks, so she certainly had time to spare. Cathy stubbed out her cigarette and checked her watch, smothering a yawn.

There was a light knock on the office door that Cathy had left standing open. A man stood in the doorway, looking hesitantly into the room.

Cathy stood up and held out her hand. ‘Cathy Stewart. You must be Joseph Templeton.’

The welcoming smile that accompanied this seemed to put her visitor at his ease. He smiled back, entered and closed the door behind him. Stepping forward, he grasped Cathy’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. ‘Please. Call me Joe. Everyone does.’

Joe was younger than Cathy had expected from the style of the letter and less sure of himself in person. A little shy, even. Well-dressed, good-looking and with a decidedly charming smile. She motioned for him to sit down. He did so, taking one of two armchairs facing her desk, placing his folded coat over the other and setting his leather briefcase on the floor between his feet. Cathy sat down in her own high-backed chair, picked up her packet of cigarettes, took one out and offered the packet to Joe. He shook his head. She sat forward expectantly, her elbows on the desk, cigarette in one hand and lighter in the other.

‘What can I do for you, Joe?’ Cathy raised her eyebrows questioningly as she lit up. ‘I hope the smoke won’t bother you.’

Joe shook his head again, took a deep breath and burst into speech.

‘I’m Amanda’s brother. Well, half-brother actually. You know, that killer out there, he got Amanda first.’ His voice broke and he dropped his head into his hands for a moment. Then he looked up at Cathy, pain and sadness clouding his eyes. ‘Poor Amanda. It’s so hard to believe. It’s been weeks now and the police don’t even have a lead, or not one they’ll talk to us about. And there have been two more victims since. We’re sure it must be the same person who’s responsible.’

Cathy was intrigued. ‘Are you proposing to hire me? To find your sister’s murderer? Do you know anything about me or what my rates are? A case like this can take a lot of time.’

‘We’ll double your rates, plus expenses. Even if you don’t get anywhere. We want your exclusive attention,’ Joe replied. ‘I’m acting on behalf of Amanda’s mother, as well as myself. Amanda had no other family. We realise it will be difficult but at least we’ll feel we’re doing something. It’s so hard just to wait for news. I can even help you if you need it. I can take some time off.’

He seemed desperate and the idea of working on a real case was certainly tempting. Since setting up on her own as a private investigator, Cathy’s cases had involved proving, or disproving, adultery, performing background checks or finding undeclared income for acrimonious divorce settlements, certainly not murder.

‘Why me?’

‘My step-mother asked me to hire a woman. It’s rather delicate, what with the way Amanda died. There aren’t many in the business so I made some enquiries. You have a good reputation and people say you’re honest. We need someone we can trust and, you know, feel comfortable with.’

Cathy thought it through for a moment. She hadn’t dealt with anything like this before. Maybe she would have, if she’d actually got that promotion to the Specialist Crime Division. But that was the past; this was now.

‘Right,’ she decided. ‘I accept. We’ll make the contract out in both your names. You can send back the signed copy with the first advance.’

Joe looked relieved. ‘I’m so glad you’ve said yes.’

‘Honestly, how could I refuse? Although you should know that I’ve no previous experience of catching suspected serial killers. There haven’t been too many in Glasgow to practice on.’

She turned away to her laptop and started modifying the details in her standard contract. It was certainly nice to be able to double the rate. On a regular basis, that type of money would hire her an assistant. In the meantime, she might well take Joe up on his offer of help.

‘What are your step-mother’s full name and contact details?’ Cathy asked.

‘Clare Templeton-Smyth. With a y. She stays in Darnley Gardens near where the Crossmyloof Ice Rink used to be.’ Joe gave the full address.

Cathy completed and saved the document before printing two copies. She signed both and handed them to Joe to read through. As he did so, Cathy got out a large brown envelope and wrote her name and office address on the front. She handed this to Joe as he finished reading. He put the two copies in the envelope and bent down to put that inside his briefcase.

Cathy leaned back in her chair, another cigarette already burning in her right hand. She watched Joe as he stored the envelope to his satisfaction.

‘Do you work in finance?’

‘I do. How did you guess? I’m with Murray & Monroe Asset Management.’ Joe handed her a business card. ‘Shall I take some time off, then?’

Cathy noted the Vice-President title on Joe’s card. It sounded like a very senior role although he couldn’t be more than thirty-two or thirty-three. That explained the aura of a well-off lifestyle but presumably also meant he had a brain to go with it. ‘Yes. You do just that. Come back as soon as you’re free, and we’ll see what you can do. But first I need some information about your sister.’ She got a clean notebook out of her desk drawer and waited, pen poised, looking at Joe intently.

‘Yes, of course. Where do I start?’ Joe thought for a moment. ‘I hardly knew her, you know, not really. My mother died when I was eight and I was packed off to boarding school soon after. My father remarried after a while and Amanda was born a couple of years later. She was much younger than me and we saw very little of each other. After graduating from Oxford, I moved to London and took a job in the City. It was only when I was relocated to Glasgow that we got together a bit more frequently. She was at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, as it was called at the time. She got her BA in acting and graduated a couple of years ago.’ Joe opened his briefcase, took out a sheet of printed paper and handed it to Cathy. ‘I prepared this for you with some of Amanda’s details. She was twenty-four and shared a flat with a girl called Karen. She had a boyfriend, too. They’d been seeing each other for a while, I think, but I don’t know how serious it was. He’s a nice chap. Seemed pretty shaken up about the whole thing, as you would expect. What else?’

‘Did Amanda have a job at the time of her death?’

‘Yes. Between acting roles, she worked at the local Farnbury’s supermarket. Her big break hadn’t happened yet but she was always hoping.’ Joe’s face clouded over again. ‘She was my only sister, you know.’

Cathy checked the neatly typed sheet. ‘I suppose Karen’s still at the same flat?’

Joe nodded.

‘I see you’ve given me the supermarket details too. That’s useful. Timmy Walden is the boyfriend, I assume. I’ll talk to him, of course. I would also like to talk to your father and step-mother. Do you think you can arrange that?’

‘My father’s no longer with us, he died of a stroke about ten years ago. And Clare’s taken Amanda’s death very hard. She was her only child. But of course, we’ll sort something out as soon as possible. Clare finds it a struggle to talk about any of this. To be honest, she can barely get out of bed most days.’

‘I can only imagine how difficult this must be for her. Let me know. I’ll start with Karen and Timmy for the time being. Is there anything else you can tell me?’

‘Well, I can’t think of anything right now,’ Joe replied. ‘I do realise there isn’t a lot to go on and our chances of getting anywhere are slim.’

‘Yes, they are. But I’ll do my very best,’ said Cathy. She stood up to indicate the meeting was over. ‘Keep in touch,’ she added as she held out her hand.

Joe stood up, shook her hand, met her eyes briefly and turned to leave. ‘Thank you,’ he said as he closed the door behind him.

Cathy sat down again. This would certainly be a challenge. Something to really get her teeth into. First, she needed more information about the events. She had followed the headlines in the news but hadn’t dwelt on any of the gory details. She turned back to her laptop and got started with the Glasgow Herald’s website. She knew she would get a fairly objective and factual report from that paper. Of course, Glasgow had been dropped from the title years ago but Cathy still hadn’t got used to that. Then she would look through some of the tabloid websites, Express, Record, Mirror and not to forget the Sun to get the juicier aspects of the murders.

Some time later, Cathy switched her laptop off and sat back rubbing her eyes. The ashtray was full, the room cloudy with smoke. She opened a window to let in some air and thought about trying to give up again. A thought quickly dismissed; now wasn’t the right time. She gathered all her notes and printouts into a manageable pile. She hadn’t even had a coffee all day, Cathy realised, so absorbed had she been by her research. Putting on her jacket, she shut the window, picked up the pile of papers and her bag and left her office out through the GoWin shop floor.

The betting shop manager was standing by the counter.

‘Good meeting, Cathy?’ he said with a smile. ‘Nice looking guy.’ He rubbed his fingers together. ‘Maybe a bit of money there,’ he added.

Cathy smiled back. ‘You could be right, Bill. Tell you about it next week.’

Unusually, the sun was shining, which was a pleasant surprise as Cathy hadn’t brought her car. Her two-storey terraced house in Kelvinside Gardens had been part of a generous divorce settlement and was only a twenty-minute walk from her office going towards Maryhill. Cathy pulled her jacket round her as she strode off home, deep in thought about her new case.

CHAPTER 2

He looked himself over again in the mirror. Blonde hair suited him, he thought. Wavy, slightly tousled. Blue eyes tonight. Close-shaven and well-dressed. Surely irresistible. He smiled at his reflection.

It was late Saturday evening and he felt the thrill of anticipation. He enjoyed the feeling almost as much as the final act itself. He would return to a club he’d visited before. He hadn’t been blonde there last time.

A short walk later, the doorman was ushering him through a curtained entrance. The place was filling up. Inside he found darkness, loud music and anonymity.

He went straight to the heart of things. To the dance floor. Not to dance. Just to check things out from the side-lines. He spent some time assessing possibilities, then moved away to the bar and ordered a drink. He needed something ordinary. A whisky to set him up, downed quickly, then a lager. He found a dark area with a good view. Time to wait until he spotted his prey.

A group of women soon drew his attention. They were getting merry and shouts of laughter rang out. It looked like a hen party when even the shyest let their hair down. He liked to target the shyer ones sometimes; they were so susceptible to flattery.

He leaned forward to get a better look. Out of the shadows, his face glowed. At that moment he spotted her. She was not one of the party animals, but her quiet prettiness attracted him. As if to confirm his choice, she looked around, caught him smiling and smiled back before turning away.

Now it was time to be extra careful. The excitement rippled through him and he shivered involuntarily. He leaned back again to finish his drink. The women’s table was on the way to the bar. He set his glass down and got up. As he did so, she glanced over. He moved forward and a group of people in his path made it easy for him to press against her as he squeezed past. She started at that and looked directly at him. He smiled, his eyes sparkling.

‘Sorry,’ he bent down and whispered in her ear.

‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed back.

He carried on to the bar. They simply exchanged smiles on his way back to his seat. Things were going well and it was early still. It wasn’t good to appear too keen too soon.

Soon the whole group got up to dance. He waited to see if she would stay behind or go with the others. She went. The floor was so crowded, they couldn’t all stay together. She danced a little apart.

He joined her, a questioning look on his face, as if to ask for permission. She nodded her agreement. Her friends hadn’t paid much attention and that was how he wanted it. When the other women returned to their table, he pressed her hand and smiled, at his most charming.

‘Thank you. I enjoyed that.’ He didn’t wait for a reply before walking away.

She returned to her table and he took his time. Wandering around the club. Stopping for a drink, another whisky this time. Watching her. She looked over at where he’d been sitting a few times.

The group started to break up and two of the women left. The others obviously wanted to dance some more. She hesitated. Time to move. He appeared near her and she sat down again, on her own at the table this time.

‘May I offer you a drink?’ He was well-spoken and polite. He knew it disarmed them.

She accepted. He got a gin-less tonic for himself and a double vodka and coke for her. They sat together with their drinks and chatted, as well as they could with all the noise. She told him her name was Stacey. He couldn’t care less. She was fit enough and would look good on camera.

As soon as he saw her friends coming back, he asked her to dance. A slow one. He wouldn’t get too close, not yet. He didn’t let go when the song finished, waiting for another to start. He held her closer then, gently stroking her back. Then he led her back to the table. Her friends were getting ready to leave. He asked her to stay on. She did.

Another round of drinks. He asked where she lived, what she did. He liked to seem interested. And he gave her some details about himself too. Mostly false.

People were beginning to leave. He had to get out before the club became too empty.

‘Will you come back to my place? Only if you want to, of course,’ he asked, holding her hand tenderly.

She hesitated. He was sure she didn’t often get the chance.

‘I shouldn’t have asked,’ he said, pulling his hand away. ‘It’s too fast for you.’

‘No, no,’ she said, ‘I mean, yes, I will.’ She held on to his hand. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

His eyes gleamed.

He held her tightly, kissing and caressing her on the way back. Once inside the flat, she went straight to the bathroom. He headed for the bedroom and had time to hit the record button on the remote before she joined him.

Undressing himself quickly, he took his time with her clothes. She reached down and began to stroke him. He felt himself go harder and almost came too soon. Pulling himself away, he pushed her gently onto her back and began to explore her with his hands and tongue, taking his time. He wanted her to be gasping for him. She was.

She didn’t ask for a condom but he used one anyway. It would no longer matter to her but it did to him. He slid on top of her and entered her in one swift movement. He took his time to begin with, sensual and caressing. Then he started moving faster, quickening his pace in tune with her. Soon he could feel himself peaking. The stocking was already in place. Her climax neared. He had to focus or he would miss the moment. She closed her eyes and he took hold of the stocking ends, crossing them over her throat. As he pulled the ends tighter and tighter, her eyes flickered open, full of shocked horror. Her hands tugged futilely at the nylon around her throat. He felt the wonderful, explosive, heady rush as he came inside her, her body convulsing with his.

She didn’t scream.

He rolled off her onto his back, closing his eyes and catching his breath for a moment. Then he sat up and looked at her. Her wide-open eyes stared at him, unseeing. He pressed stop on the remote control, closed her eyes and removed his wig. He felt peaceful, satiated. All excitement spent.

Now he had to clear up. The only part he disliked. He glanced at the clock. Just after three. He got dressed again in dark, unobtrusive clothes. Removing the SD card from the camcorder, he slipped it into his pocket. Then, after putting on a pair of disposable gloves, he untied the stocking from her throat and used fresh ones to bind her hands and feet. This made her body easier to transport. He gathered her belongings together. She had brought a large shoulder bag and he managed to squeeze everything inside it. He took her cash first, of course, although there wasn’t a great deal. It would just cover his expenses in drinks. He took a blanket out of the wardrobe and wrapped it around her, tying it securely with a luggage strap. He slung her body over one shoulder, her bag over the other and walked slowly to the front door. Despite appearances, this one was no lightweight.

He opened the door a little and listened carefully. Nothing. He didn’t put the hall light on. No need. He went softly down the stairs, feeling his way, into the basement garage. He opened the boot of his car, dumped the body and bag inside, shut the boot quietly and listened again for sounds of anyone. Still nothing. He got in, started the engine, switched on the lights and drove up the ramp. The street was deserted. He wasn’t sure where to get rid of this one so he drove for a while, looking for likely spots.

On the road through Kelvingrove Park, well away from the flat, he pulled to a stop. Nobody about. Nearby was a huddle of bushes. He switched off his lights, got out and moved quickly to the boot. Opening it, he undid the luggage strap, lifted the bundle out and, in a now practised movement, rolled the body out of the blanket and onto the ground. He pushed the body further under the bushes and dumped the bag beside it. He shook out the blanket, threw it back in the boot and drove off. There were still no other signs of activity.

He headed straight home for a hot shower before slipping into bed. He wouldn’t have long to sleep, but that didn’t matter. It was worth it.

CHAPTER 3

After a quick breakfast on Sunday morning, Cathy headed straight for her office. It made more sense for her to work there and, with the house empty, she had no reason to stay at home. She had sorted through all her research the evening before and now set about consolidating all the important information on to her whiteboards. She’d bought three of them when she’d first set herself up, but they’d hardly been used until today.

Using her plentiful supply of magnets, Cathy arranged photos of each victim on the largest board and wrote their names, ages and final locations underneath. Amanda had been found down by the River Kelvin; the second victim, Carrie Maddock, twenty-eight, in an underground car park; and thirty-two year-old Lisa Mulgrave in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. Cathy thought that where the bodies were left might be unimportant. Where they were last seen alive seemed less so. She rummaged through her notes and cuttings to check the facts. All had last been seen at nightclubs. She added the name of each club to the whiteboard. Three different ones. How many were there in the vicinity, she wondered. Maybe Joe Templeton could help look into the club scene for her, if he were really serious about helping.

All three women had been murdered in the same way. Strangled with stockings, their bodies abandoned naked. Handbags and other belongings were all found nearby. Any cash had