Campbell let me take in the scene for several moments before speaking. “I know that it’s nigh on impossible to tell from the state of the room, but do you notice anything missing?”
I could only manage a shake of my head.
“Follow me then, and please stay close to the wall. We’ve cleared a wee path through the mess.”
Campbell led me into the kitchen. Everything there looked pretty well as I’d seen it last. On the stove stood a half-cooked dinner its chef would never eat. A bottle of Scotch on the table had the cork out, although the glass next to it was empty. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought Angus had just stepped out for a moment.
I became aware of sounds from Angus’s bedroom, directly above us. “What’s going on up there?” I asked.
“Scene of Crime lads. They have to go over the whole house. You never know what you might find, although I’m not holding out much hope in this case. You being here is a good thing for us, since you knew MacDougall well, and you were here recently. Anything missing or out of place in this room?”
“No. It looks much as it always did.”
Campbell took me through the entire house, including the basement which I’d never seen, a place filled with junk pre-dating Angus’s tenure. I felt distinctly uncomfortable when we went into the bedroom I’d last used and saw the bed I’d shared with Regina. The sheets and blankets had been removed, making it appear even more forlorn.
We stood in the doorway for several moments longer than was necessary. “You say the linens were fresh when you went to sleep the last evening you were here?” he finally asked.
I almost fell into it, realizing only when my mouth had actually started to form the word “yes” that I hadn’t said anything about bed linens. Only then did I realize what even a forensic buffoon would have known: two obvious sets of hair in the bed, since Regina’s was chestnut to my light brown and a lot longer.
“Ah, no, they weren’t,” I answered casually. “I’m afraid Angus wasn’t much into housekeeping, and I was far too shagged from the drive north to even begin to think about changing them myself.”
Campbell hid his disappointment quite well, and as we went on to another room, I looked heavenward and said a silent, “Thank you!”
In the bathroom, I found out that I’d been correct in my assumption when Campbell asked, “Did MacDougall have any lady friends who might have visited him recently?”
I pretended to think for a minute. “Not that I remember him mentioning. The last lady friend I knew about was probably two years back. That wouldn’t have stopped him picking up someone down at the boozer, though, in all likelihood. Why do you ask?”
“We found hair samples in the shower here and also back in the bed in which you slept. Anything you’d like to add to what you’ve told me, Mr. Quinn?” Campbell asked with raised eyebrows.
“No.”
Campbell shook his head and turned towards the stairs. As we headed back outside, I asked him, “You said earlier that you thought there were three men. How did you figure that out?”
He turned to face me. “Certainly it would have taken at least two strapping lads to subdue a man the size and apparent strength of MacDougall. In my experience, these people prefer to work in groups of three. Two to hold the person, and one to soften him up. You’ll be happy to know that at least one of the intruders got what looks like a very bloody nose, and one may have cracked his head on the bookcase before it fell down. We won’t know for certain until the laboratory results come back, but that’s my feeling based on the evidence collected so far.”
“And so these three bastards burst in on my friend,” I said carefully as we stared out at the sunlight reflecting off the loch below. “What could they have wanted?”
“That’s why I asked about money or drug problems. This is the approach used by people such as those mixed up in the drug trade when they want something. Send some lads over to scare the person, hurt him enough to let him know they mean business. The average victim crumbles pretty quickly under that sort of treatment and soon coughs up what’s wanted. Occasionally, I’ve seen them do something like this when they don’t get what they want, or to send a strong message through to someone else.” Campbell again peered at me in that uncomfortable way of his. “Any idea who that might be?”
I wasn’t about to tell him anything more at that point. Possibly later. I’d have to see how things shook down. It’s not that I wanted to hinder the investigation and see the bastards get away with it. I wanted to see them get the full measure of the law, but I did feel I had to protect Regina—for the moment at least.
“So they pounded Angus around then slit his throat?”
“As I said earlier, he was tortured. That’s why I think they wanted to know something.”
“How did they torture him?”
“Cigarette burns. The poor sod’s body was covered with them. MacDougall was either very stubborn, had a terribly high pain threshold—or didn’t know what they wanted to hear.”
I hoped poor Angus had been all three in this case.
Campbell next went to the largest of the two outbuildings on the property, this one located west of the house and slightly further down the hill.
I’d only been in it once when Angus had first moved in, and it had been in pretty rough shape. The walls, probably stones cleared from the surrounding fields, had been well constructed and were still sound, but the roof had holes, the doors leaned at crazy angles, and the building had contained rusted farm implements, doves and cobwebs.
As we approached it now, I noticed that it had a new roof, and the wide doors had been rehung. A large, shiny padlock now kept the world at bay. Odd for Angus to lock this when he didn’t lock his house.
On finding the padlock secured, Campbell, with some irritation, turned and bellowed up the hill, “Dickson! Some idiot has locked this bloody thing again. Fetch the key!”
Dickson and her comrade held a hurried discussion, with the result that they trotted off to the house and returned shortly with a large ring of keys. “Here they are, sir,” she said. “Would you like me to open it?”
Campbell snatched them out of her hands. “I think I’m capable of opening a padlock!”
With the number of keys, though, it took him nearly a minute to find the right one.
As he worked, I asked, “What is it you want to show me?”
The detective ignored my question, and Dickson started to speak when Campbell glared at her over his shoulder. Her mouth shut with an almost audible snap.
The padlock didn’t give up the fight until only the last few keys remained. Campbell grabbed one door, Dickson took the other, and they swung them back. Sunlight flooded into the room.
It took my eyes a few moments to adjust. The room gradually revealing itself was completely different from the wreck I remembered. Even though everything was covered with sheets to keep dust out, it was easy to see that Angus had built a rehearsal hall.
He’d cut two large windows (curtains closed at the moment) into one of the long walls. They’d have fine views of Loch Striven. The ceiling had been closed in (no more open rafters and roosting doves), and the floor had been carpeted. Scattered in a rough circle around the walls, I could see what looked like a complete band set-up: three amplifier stacks, a large drum kit, mics, a fair-sized mixing desk, monitor speakers. But it was something at the far end of the room that caught my attention.
I threaded my way around the drum kit and crossed the open area, barely avoiding tripping over