Monster: The Jack Drummond Thrillers, #6

By Rena George

In the depths of Loch Ness, a man's body is discovered, reigniting beliefs in the legendary monster lurking beneath the waves. The deceased is a scientist employed by a secretive Highland laboratory known for producing the highly sought-after Gigi Christner cosmetics.

Detective Jack Drummond faces two intriguing possibilities: Was the scientist's death connected to his obsession with the Loch Ness monster? Or was he silenced to protect the lab's top secret experiment, aimed at discovering a life-prolonging ingredient for their exclusive skincare line?

Journalist Ellie Bruce senses a sensational scoop and relentlessly pursues the story. However, Drummond suspects her true motives might be to undermine his investigation. As Ellie's meddling leads her to a second murder scene, she finds herself arrested.

Has Drummond finally apprehended the killer? Or is there still an elusive culprit on the loose, plotting another deadly act?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosmorna
• Release date: Oct 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223806363

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jack Drummond stood on the small wooden landing, gazing out over the dark waters of the loch. He was watching a low mist creeping in, shrouding the far bank from view. The dreary morning matched his sombre mood. Murder scenes were never cheerful affairs.

The pathologist had come and gone, and the scenes of crime team were packing away their equipment. Normally, the evidence collected would be crucial in piecing together events leading up to a brutal crime. In this case, however, when the body was in the water, evidence could be in short supply.

The eerie stillness of the loch filled Drummond with a sense of foreboding. Something was telling him the road ahead might be long and difficult, not least because of his unexpected promotion to Acting Detective Chief Inspector.

It was his fault Frankie had gone. He should have known better than to mix business with pleasure, especially with his senior officer. But he couldn't resist her charms. He’d let his arrogance take over, eager for yet another conquest. How was he to know she'd take it so seriously? Commitment wasn't in his nature, and he couldn't understand why women always wanted it. But she had, and he couldn't give it to her.

He'd tried to convince her to stay, but it was too late. DCI Francine Mitchell had put in for a transfer.

Now here he was doing her job and allowing the guilt to replace what should have been a sense of achievement.

DS Nick Rougvie's appearance by his side jarred him back to the present.

'The body could have entered the loch anywhere,' the sergeant remarked, his eyes scanning the shoreline. 'My guess would be Castle Urquhart.'

Drummond frowned. 'It's crawling with tourists. Don't you think someone would have spotted our victim going into the drink?'

'Not if he went in at night when they'd all gone home,' Rougvie countered.

Drummond considered this for a moment. 'He could have fallen from a boat,' he mused.

'Or maybe pushed off one,' Rougvie suggested, his tone darkening.

'We need to speak to the companies that hire boats. Can you organize it, Nick?'

Rougvie nodded, his mind already working through the logistics. 'There's a club of wild swimmers who go into the loch every Saturday. Total madness, I'd say, but there's no accounting for taste. We need to speak to them too.'

Drummond's gaze flickered to the glass-fronted hotel behind them. 'Could he have come from there?'

Rougvie nodded again. 'I suppose he could have been a guest. He didn't have any ID on him.'

'It would have been easy enough to stroll across the road and go through the underpass to the loch-side,' Rougvie said. 'He might have had a boat moored up at the landing.'

'We haven't found a boat,' Drummond pointed out.

'Well, not yet, but it doesn't mean it's not out there,' Rougvie said.

Drummond turned away, his thoughts already racing ahead. 'Let's have a word with this hotel manager.'

---

The Loch Hotel, on the shores of Loch Ness, was a popular accommodation choice for Nessie-hunting tourists. As Drummond stepped into the plush reception area, it crossed his mind that having a body wash up on the hotel's private mooring would actually improve business. However, judging by the number of guests already milling about, he suspected they had no shortage of patrons.

As they walked in, the man who met them flashed a professional smile and introduced himself as hotel manager, Owen MacAndrew. Drummond and Rougvie produced their ID cards.

The man nodded. 'This will be about the poor soul who drowned in the loch. One of our guests found him when she was out running early this morning.' He shook his head. 'Shocking thing. I was by the reception desk when she came rushing in. Poor girl, she wasn't expecting to find something like that. It gave her quite a turn.'

Drummond cut him off. 'What's this guest's name?'

'Miss Bruce.' He gave a little cough. 'I think her first name is Ellie.'

'And what exactly did she tell you?'

---

MacAndrew hesitated, remembering how white-faced Ellie Bruce had been when she’d rushed into the hotel. She'd turned, pointing out to the loch, stuttering as she said she'd found a body.

'The loch's a strange place,' he said. 'The currents out there can produce disturbances on the surface of the water. Many visitors – locals too, sometimes – get fooled into believing they are seeing something that's not actually there.'

Drummond couldn't resist the sneer in his voice as he said, 'Like a monster?'

'If you're asking me to actually say Nessie doesn't exist, then you'll be waiting a long time, Chief Inspector. Most of the guests we have here come hoping to see the creature.'

Drummond didn't have time for this. 'But a body washing up in front of your hotel is a far cry from a mythical sea creature. So, tell us. Did you go with this guest to check what she saw?'

MacAndrew nodded. 'I did. It was a body all right. It had got tangled in the weeds on the edge of the loch and was trapped in the corner by the side of the landing.'

Drummond frowned. 'What time was this?'

'I didn't check the time, but we had just started to serve breakfast, so it must have been around seven o'clock.'

'It's pretty murky out there this morning,' Drummond mused. 'Didn't it surprise you that this guest was able to spot the body?'

MacAndrew shook his head. 'There's a light in the underpass and it stays on all night.'

'Did you recognize the body?' Drummond asked.

'Well, hardly. The poor man was face down in the water.'

'Could he have been one of your guests?' Rougvie interrupted.

The hotel manager's eyebrows went up in alarm. 'I understood he fell off a boat.'

Drummond ignored the comment. 'If you could check your guest register it would help us tick off another box,' he said.

MacAndrew appeared distracted, his brow furrowed. 'Most guests will be in the dining room having breakfast, but I'll get my staff to check all the rooms, anyway.'

Drummond had one last question. 'Where can we find this Miss Bruce?'

'She's through there in the lounge.' MacAndrew nodded to a door on the far side of the reception area. 'I took her a pot of coffee just before you came in.'

Chapter 2

The young woman sitting by the window lifted her head and regarded the two detectives with interest as they entered the room. She closed the laptop she'd been typing into and got to her feet. 'Ellie Bruce,' she said, offering her hand. 'I've been expecting you.'

'Mr MacAndrew told us it was you who found the body,' Drummond said. His mind had conjured up a middle-aged woman in a tweed suit, sturdy brogues and sensible spectacles. Ellie Bruce was none of these things. He estimated her age to be early twenties as he took in the trendy black tracksuit and long chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail. She was returning his assessing look with intelligent green eyes.

'Yes, I found him,' she said. 'I like to go out early. It's more about appreciating the atmosphere before the day gets going, rather than taking exercise.'

'But wasn't it dark?' Rougvie cut in.

'No, it was misty, not that I mind the dark. It's all part of the experience. The loch is different in the early hours. You can't imagine how exhilarating it is to stand by the edge of the water when no one else is about and be enveloped by all those sounds and smells before the new day gets going.'

Drummond's expression was non-committal, but he was no stranger to what this young woman had just described. When life was challenging, and his head buzzed with the twists and turns of his latest case, he often left his cottage in the early hours to walk by the edge of the firth and let the peace of the place seep through him.

It was a far cry from the thundering traffic noises of the Glasgow streets where he'd been brought up.

He grimaced, blanking out the uninvited images. 'Tell us about finding this body, Miss Bruce.'

'Call me Ellie.' She pulled a face. 'Like I said, I'd gone out early and jogged maybe a half mile along the road before turning back. There was no traffic. Nothing passed me as I headed back to the hotel. The light in the underpass caught my eye and I walked over there and down to the shore. As I said, it's good standing by the side of the loch when no one else is about.' She paused, a shudder sweeping through her. 'Except this time there was somebody else there…the dead man in the water.'

'Did you recognize him?' Drummond asked, already anticipating the answer as the body was face down in the loch. But to his surprise, Ellie hesitated.

He raised an eyebrow and repeated his question. 'Did you recognize him?'

'I'm not sure. I've probably got this all wrong.'

The detectives shared a look, waiting for her to continue.

Her brow creased. 'I didn't see his face, but the dragon on the back of his jacket was quite distinctive. I interviewed a bloke a couple of days ago who was wearing the same jacket.'

'Interviewed? So you're a journalist?'

'I'm a writer. Didn't Owen tell you?' She gave them a surprised look. 'I'm writing a book about the Loch Ness Monster.'

'No, he didn't,' Drummond said. 'Tell us about this man you interviewed.'

---

Ellie sat back, her eyes rising to the ceiling as she tried to recall the details. 'He contacted me after the local newspaper published a story about my writing this book. I wanted the publicity to encourage folk like him to get in touch, even if it meant having to sift through a bunch of time wasters.' She sighed. 'People who claim to know all about the monster come out of the woodwork when they think they have a public platform, but I still needed those responses. This particular guy sounded like he might be helpful, so I agreed to meet him in a town centre pub.

'He was sitting there when I arrived. I was actually pleasantly surprised at how well-heeled he looked. His clothes were expensive, designer gear I thought. And I doubt if he'd got much change from £1,000 for that jacket.'

'Did he give you a name?' Drummond scowled, trying to quell his impatience.

Ellie nodded. 'He said he was Michael Jensen, but I didn't believe him. I didn't push it because I was intrigued to know what he had to say.'

'And what did he have to say?'

She frowned. 'It was quite strange, really. I got the impression he was sounding me out, deciding if he could trust me enough to share the information he had.'

'He must have told you something,' Rougvie interrupted.

'He said he could prove the existence of the monster and the people who knew about it were already abusing the creature.'

'You surely didn't believe this?'

'He believed it, and that's the point. I didn't think the man was mad, and he wasn't asking for cash for his story, but he was definitely wary about how much he should say. I got the impression he was scared.'

Drummond was still scowling. 'Scared of what, exactly?'

'I don't think it was what, more like who. I think he was frightened of the people he claimed were abusing this creature… The ones he mentioned. He wouldn't give me a contact number, only said he would try to get back be in touch with me.' She glanced out across the grey, sulky-looking water. 'That was almost a week ago.'

---

Drummond's eyes narrowed as he listened to the girl's story. The whole thing sounded too far-fetched for his liking. Were they really expected to believe this story of the man who claimed the non-existent Nessie was in danger? And by coincidence, the same man was lying dead on a mortuary slab having been discovered in the loch by the young woman in front of them. Drummond didn't believe in coincidence, and judging by Rougvie's expression his sergeant had been thinking the same thing.

---

Ellie Bruce was looking from one officer to the other. 'What happens now?'

Drummond got to his feet. 'We need to get this body identified, so your help would be appreciated.'

'But it might not be the man I told you about.'

Drummond nodded. 'We know, but until we have an identity for this body, he will remain a John Doe. This man deserves better. If he's not the person you interviewed, then we can rule him out of our enquiries. Either way, it's helpful.'

Ellie Bruce shrugged. 'I'll do whatever you think helps.' She turned large, concerned eyes on him. 'But what if it is him, and he was killed because he spoke to me?'

'It's very unlikely,' Drummond said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but he could see where she was going with the thought. 'I'll have a car sent for you.'

'No need.' She stood up with them. 'I'll drive myself. Just tell me where to go and I'll see you later.'

Chapter 3

'A re you thinking what I'm thinking?' Rougvie asked as they left the hotel.

'That would depend on me knowing what you're thinking,' Drummond said.

'You know what I mean. The young woman was right about our victim's jacket being distinctive. I don't imagine there are many like that in Inverness.'

'Possibly not, let's see if she can identify the body first before we jump to any conclusions. We'll still circulate a photo of the jacket and see what it throws up.'

'There's another thing,' Rougvie continued, his brow wrinkling as he thought more about this. 'When this jacket was so recognizable, why didn't the killer strip it off before dumping this poor devil's body in the loch?'

'Exactly what I was wondering,' Drummond said, pointing his car key and unlocking his old Honda Civic. He got in and fired up the engine as the sergeant slid into the passenger seat.

'He could have panicked, I suppose, and just wanted to get rid of the body as fast as he could,' Rougvie suggested.

'Maybe,' Drummond said slowly. 'Or he, or she – or them. We don't know our killer is a man, or whether he, she or they worked alone. The jacket could have been deliberately left because they wanted us to identify him. It could be important to them that we know who we're dealing with.'

Rougvie's nod was thoughtful. 'What about the other things Ellie Bruce said? All the stuff about the victim having exclusive information about the monster. Are we really supposed to take it seriously?'

'You didn't believe her?'

Rougvie turned a surprised look on Drummond. 'Did you?'

Drummond pulled a face. 'I did, actually. What reason would she have for spinning a tale like that?'

'I'd say publicity is a good enough reason. She's writing a book about Nessie and maybe she sees this as the perfect opportunity to exploit the situation. And let's be honest, Jack. It wouldn't be the first time you'd been taken in by a pretty face.'

He was aware of Drummond's rigid profile and immediately regretted his words. It had been a stupid, thoughtless remark. 'I'm sorry, Jack. That was uncalled for. It wasn't your fault DCI Mitchell decided to move on.'

---

Drummond stared at the road ahead. But it was his fault. He was totally responsible for Frankie leaving. It was another notch in his track record with women. When they'd been together, he could put into a box the disturbing memories of what another woman – Saffron Dunbar – did to him.

Saffron had deserved to be locked away for all the lives she'd damaged. At the back of his mind was the constant fear that one day she would be back on the streets. He just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

He kept his eyes on the road. 'Did you know she was out?' he said flatly.

'What?' Rougvie stared at him, looking like he hadn't wanted to believe what he was hearing.

'Saffron,' Drummond said. 'She's been released.' He could feel his blood run cold as he spoke. It was the one thing he'd been dreading. He knew the woman who had tried to destroy him would one day be released from the medium secure unit, but he hadn't expected it would happen quite so soon.

She'd been sent to the unit by the court after she'd been found guilty of attempting to murder her adopted father, drugging and falsely imprisoning Drummond's colleague and friend, DC Kes Crombie, and other charges.

The woman had also set Drummond up so it had appeared he had murdered her.

He was still bitter about those months he'd spent on remand before finally being released by the court on a not proven verdict.

It had been part of Saffron's vindictive campaign to punish him because he'd had the audacity to suggest their relationship wasn't working. Drummond also suspected she'd had a hand in two other unsolved murders.

He shook his head. Saffron was no more cured of the evil running through her than she was capable of any remorse. Drummond could still see the smile she had fired at him across the courtroom that day. It had been a chilling promise she would be back. And now she was. Who knew what chaos she'd be planning.

'You don't think she'll try to contact you?' Rougvie asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Drummond's expression was grim. 'I don't know,' he said quietly. 'But if she does, I'll be ready for her.'

---

It was an hour before the pathologist, Dr Amos Duncannon, joined Drummond and Rougvie in his office. He sat down at his desk with a sigh, squinting at the two officers. 'I suppose you want to know if he was murdered?'

'We didn't realize there was any doubt about it,' Rougvie said. 'He had a big enough gash on the back of his head.'

'You're ruling out his head could have struck a boulder at the side of the loch.'

Drummond sat forward, staring at the man. 'So it's not murder?'

'Aye, it is. I just didn't want you two making assumptions before I gave you the evidence.'

Rougvie looked away, shaking his head, but Drummond could see he was grinning.

'All right, Amos,' he said. 'Now you've made your point, can we get on with this?'

The big Nigerian checked his file. 'Our victim didn't have any water in his lungs, which points to the fact that he was dead before going into the loch. It was the trauma to the back of his head that caused his death.'

'So definitely murder?' Drummond said.

'Well, unless our victim whacked himself on the head before diving, already dead, into the loch, then yes, I would say you have a murder on your hands.'

Drummond ignored the mocking remarks. 'What about his injuries?' he asked. 'Can you elaborate?'

'Actually yes, we've had a bit of luck there. We found slivers of red brick and sandstone in the wound. Samples have been sent for analysis, so there's a chance we may be able to pinpoint an area where bricks like this are used.' He shrugged. 'I say may because I'm not confident. So don't hold out too much hope.'

'What about time of death?' Drummond asked.

Amos grinned. 'Well, his watch stopped at 8.35 last evening, which ties in with my estimated time of death.'

'But definitely last night?'

'Yes, he hadn't been in the water for more than twelve hours.' He paused, scanning the printed pages in front of him. 'His last meal was some time ago, probably breakfast. Bacon, egg, tomato and toast. He had also consumed rather a lot of whisky.'

'The jacket he was wearing,' Drummond ventured. 'Could we have it as soon as possible? We need to circulate a photo of the logo on the back.'

'It's not a logo. It's a design, a dragon breathing fire. It was made by a rather pricey fashion company that specializes in items like this. And like the rest of the clothes he was wearing, it was quite expensive.'

'You know a lot about this company?' Rougvie raised an eyebrow.

'Not a lot, just some things,' Amos corrected. 'I've bought shoes from them online, and they weren't cheap.'

He grinned at Drummond. 'I hear congratulations are in order.'

Drummond gave him a blank stare.

'Acting Detective Chief Inspector?' He put the emphasis on the word 'chief'.

Drummond sighed. 'I'll celebrate later. You were about to tell us about this website.'

Rougvie had already pulled out his notebook.

'Kline-Line Fashions,' Amos said. 'You'll have to google them. I don't see how they can help though, they must have thousands of customers.'

'Leave it with us, Amos,' Drummond said. 'When will the