The Law Killers by Alexander McGregor Page B

once more and at around 4.45 p.m. Shepherd and Sharon come back without the other youngster, who has gone home for tea. Sharon is even more elated. Shepherd has bought her a bag of butternut sweets. Politely, she offers them to her parents. The mood in the house is jovial, even though the football international has ended with a 3–1 defeat for Scotland.
    Half an hour later, with the excitement of her previous journeys on the scooter still the main topic of the little redhead’s conversation, Shepherd volunteers to give her one more ride on the Lambretta. The pair set off from the flat once again and as Sharon disappears down the tenement stairs her bubbling laughter rings in her parents’ ears.
    It is 5.15 p.m. It is also the last time they would hear the joyous sound and the last time they would ever see her alive.
    At around 6 p.m. Shepherd returns to the house. He is alone and, in answer to the Smiths’ questions about their daughter’s whereabouts, he casually explains that he had dropped her off at nearby newsagent’s shop where she met up with a chum. He is relaxed and converses freely.
    But 34-year-old Mrs Smith is alarmed after noting that his clothing is dishevelled and his shirt is stained with what appears to be blood. Anxiously, she suggests to her husband that the police should be called.
    He, too, is apprehensive but in order not to alarm his wife further, conceals his fears and attempts to play down Sharon’s non-arrival. Mrs Smith is not appeased and her husband finally accedes to her plea. Eager to be of assistance, Shepherd offers to take Mr Smith round to the nearest police box on the Lambretta. They set off with Mr Smith on the pillion seat his stepdaughter had occupied less than an hour earlier. As events of the next 17 hours start to unfold, that seemingly natural occurrence takes on a surreal aspect.
    After he has dropped his passenger off at the police box, Shepherd says he will tour the neighbourhood for Sharon and drives off. Meanwhile, Mr Smith and the officer he’s spoken to agree to delay an official search for half an hour to allow the missing girl more time to return home.
    Back at the house, Mrs Smith is even more fearful but reluctantly accepts the proposal to defer the launch of the search. When Shepherd shows up at the flat again to say he can find no trace of Sharon, the air of despondency in the house deepens. At exactly 6.30 p.m. Mr Smith returns to the police box to ask for the search to commence.
    Bizarrely, almost immediately it becomes a double hunt. As the last known person to have seen Sharon, police are anxious to speak to Shepherd. But he, too, has vanished. A general alert goes out to every officer on duty in the city to look out for him and his red and white Lambretta, registration number 69 BSR.
    Two hours after the launch of the search, a constable radios in to headquarters to say he has located the scooter in Robertson Street, less than half a mile from Sharon’s home. Detectives hurry to the scene and examine the Lambretta. They lift the saddle and check the toolbox stored underneath. What they discover is as unexpected as it is grim. The first thing they see is an old-fashioned open razor – and it is blood-stained.
    The inferences are obvious and efforts to locate Shepherd and little Sharon are intensified. While other officers scour the area, a special plain-clothes team lie in wait near the scooter which has been left in place. Some two hours later, their patience is rewarded when Shepherd arrives and prepares to drive off. He is immediately detained and when detectives note he smells strongly of alcohol the 24-year-old confesses to have been drinking most of the evening. It is the only admission he makes. Held at headquarters, he is questioned at length but says he has no knowledge of the whereabouts of the pretty child he’d taken for scooter rides that late afternoon.
    At midnight, the head of CID, Superintendent William Melville, contacts the media to issue