Heroes and Villains

by Ed James

Oh. Oh, man.

  The door creaked open again and Williams staggered through, clutching a fresh cognac and wearing a fresh dressing gown of purple silk, paired with a lime paisley cravat. ‘Sorry, dear boy.’ He collapsed into the armchair and spilled half the glass down his front. Didn’t seem to notice, or mind if he did. ‘I’d offer you some of the cognac, but I know about your battles with the demon drink.’

  Cullen held his gaze, sweating in the oppressive heat. How the hell do you know that? ‘Right, let’s cut the shit. You and Campbell were personal partners as well as professional?’

  Williams stiffened. For a moment he sat there, his face set in a rictus of that phony smile. ‘If you must know, and I do hope this is of relevance to your investigation, Sergeant, for I will check with your superiors and believe you me, they owe me. If you are merely asking in the hope of shaming me or outing my partner posthumously for some filthy lucre from the gutter press, woe betide you, boy. Woe betide you. I will prosecute you to the full extent of the law.’ He forced his face to relax, and sucked down a glass of five-grand cognac. ‘Now, to answer your question… Yes, Campbell and I were lovers.’ He dwelt on that last word like a final farewell to his one true love.

  Then again, there was a performance element to everything he said or did, so Cullen kept a check on his sympathy. ‘Thank you, Mr Williams.’

  ‘You have no idea how hard that is to confess. Even harder for Campbell. I wish we’d come out years ago.’ Williams struggled to his feet and puffed out his chest, a fat turkey in purple foil and Cullen had ruffled his feathers. ‘I need more cognac.’

  ‘Hamish!’ Cullen motioned for the lawyer to retake his seat. ‘If you want me to find his killer, then I’ll need all relevant details on the nature of your relationship with Mr McLintock.’ He got out his notepad and leafed through it, page by page, until he found a blank one. He took his time with it.

  Sure enough, the air went out of Williams like out of a punctured accordion. He dropped back into his armchair with a deep groan. ‘You know, Campbell wanted to remain a committed bachelor. Even though that’s been code since biblical times, he wanted to keep up the pretence that he hadn’t found the right woman yet. I found that challenging, but those were the terms we’d agreed on back when we first started stepping out together at St Andrews. Of course, we studied at Oxford, separate colleges naturally, then both went to Yale. It was much more liberal in New Haven, but still Campbell insisted on his privacy. When we returned to Edinburgh to set up practice and bought this mansion…’ He waved a tired hand around the room. ‘Well. We split it in two, but there are doors between them, if you know where to look.’

  Cullen didn’t want to risk interrupting his flow, so he waited. And waited.

  Williams nodded forward and jerked back. ‘—not asleep!’ He blinked hard a few times. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, Campbell seemed his normal self the last time I saw him. In fact, he called me up this evening. He’d taken the team out to celebrate Mr Vardy’s verdict. I gather that Mr Vardy was bailed. And you lost your witnesses, didn’t you?’

  ‘One of them.’ Cullen tasted bile in his throat. ‘How did—’

  ‘I gather the other is with the wind, mm?’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who would want your partner out of the picture?’

  ‘Any number of police officers, yourself included, I’m sure.’ Williams took a steadying breath. ‘Well, Mr Vardy wasn’t best pleased with Campbell.’

  ‘Go on?’

  ‘I believe that Campbell and Mr Vardy had a brief discussion in chambers at court while the bail was arranged. Campbell told me that Vardy was yelling about the injustice – about it not being an acquittal. Campbell tried to persuade him that the case was as good as dead, but Mr Vardy was more upset about the injustice of spending eighteen months in custody only for the case to fall apart. He had lost all this time because his lawyer was, and I quote, “a fucking fannybaws who couldn’t get this stinking jobby of a case thrown out last year”. Campbell was protesting that he had done all he could, but Mr Vardy was… Well, he’s an ungrateful bigot and he was incensed.’

  There was no sign of McLintock at Vardy’s shindig at the Debonair that evening. Odd.

  Wait a second…

  Cullen tried to overlay Vardy’s physique with the figure in black. Got a good enough fit.

  ‘Did you get the impression that Vardy might’ve—’

  ‘Sergeant.’ Williams gave him a long hard look. ‘You’ve met Mr Vardy, correct?’

  Cullen gripped the arms of the chair. ‘Several times.’

  ‘Listen, while Campbell was out celebrating, I had a business dinner and didn’t come home until late. And we have an… agreement. If Sade’s playing in Campbell’s bedroom, that means Campbell is entertaining on his own.’

  ‘You mean?’

  ‘Christ, do I need to spell it out for you?’ Williams hugged his arms tight. ‘Having sex with another man. I don’t like it, but I love Campbell, so I’ve always left him to it.’ He gave a scornful snort. ‘Now, it’s getting rather late and—’

  ‘And do know who Mr McLintock was enjoying a spot of Sade with?’

  Williams drew a sharp breath, and held it. But after a tense silence he deflated. ‘Touché, Detective. I see we can both hit below the belt. As for Campbell’s companion for the night, I can only hazard a guess. How shall I put this? Campbell had certain sexual appetites I found it impossible to satisfy.’ He averted his eyes and with a bashful wave indicated his flabby physique. ‘Campbell had rather extreme muscle-boy fantasies which he fulfilled by calling on a local escort agency. Very tasteful establishment, I assure you. All above board and the rent boys are regularly screened for STDs and…’ He fell silent, staring into the fire, perfectly still, nothing stirring but the flames dancing in his wet eyes.

  Cullen leaned forward on his chair. ‘Did Campbell have a regular rent boy?’

  Williams gave him the smallest of nods. Then he closed his eyes. And kept them closed. Seemed to never want to open them again.

  Cullen couldn’t blame him. He let the silence sit between them for another moment. Then he nudged it aside with a quiet cough. ‘Did Campbell ever mention this man’s name to you?’

  ‘This is none of your business.’

  And just like that, I’ve lost him.

  Christ, this man’s lover had his throat cut right in front of me. Jesus.

  Focus. The gimp suit.

  ‘Hamish, was Campbell into cosplay?’

  A leer settled on Williams’s face. ‘Cos-what?’

  ‘Cosplay, short for costume play. The man who killed him was dressed like Batman.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘I saw it.’ Cullen got up and wheeled round to lean on the back of his chair. The room’s cold air nibbled at his scratched cheek even though he was standing right by the fire. ‘I was in the room when it happened. A man in a black costume. A big man. And he’d been torturing Campbell, maybe for hours.’

  Williams stared into his glass. ‘Campbell had a superhero phase a few years ago. Don’t judge him, Mr Cullen. Everybody has their kink, and I won’t apologise for Campbell’s.’ His eyes started flickering, like he was watching a highlight reel of McLintock’s adventures in spandex. ‘Truth be told, it brought out the best in me. We used to dress up as various heroes and there wasn’t a dry cleaner in the city that would clean up my Robin costume. Campbell had such formidable control that he kept his Batman one spotless. What a man…’ His hand dropped into his lap and he started an absentminded rub.

  ‘Mr Williams.’

  The hand froze and a puzzled frown appeared on his forehead. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Did anybody else know of this?’

  ‘Not especially, no. We had a Superman join us once—’

  ‘Do you remember his name?’

  ‘I…’ Williams pursed his lips, his eyes flickering again. ‘Campbell arranged it. Sorry.’

  ‘Come on, we’re trying to find your pa
rtner’s murderer.’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Hamish, I know you. We’ve sat across meeting room tables hundreds of times. You’ve got a mind like a steel trap. You know. I know you know.’

  After a few seconds, Williams looked back at Cullen. ‘Campbell called him Big Rob.’

  Cullen grabbed the chair back tight.

  Him? That idiot with biceps like thighs?

  I haven’t seen him since…

  Crap. That day. When Xena Farley was shot. Big Rob, sluicing water on the pavement.

  And I have no idea where to find him.

  The night hit Cullen in the face like a wet towel, followed by the kind of rain you could hardly see but which soaked your clothes in an instant. He turned up his collar and slouched down the driveway to the dark gate.

  Out on the road, a car flashed its headlights.

  He legged it across the slippery cobbles and got into the dry of the back seat, slicking his sodden hair as he slammed the door.

  ‘What kept you so long?’ Bain twisted around in the passenger seat. ‘Were you sucking his co—?’

  ‘Stop!’ Lamb stared through the windscreen, gripping the steering wheel.

  ‘I was going to say cognac!’ Bain held up his hands. ‘Heard he’s got a bottle that cost double my month’s salary.’

  Lamb sighed like he just wanted to go to sleep. Or slap that look off Bain’s face. ‘Did you get anything, Scott?’

  ‘He offered me some of his five-grand cognac.’

  ‘See?’ Bain swivelled round to focus on Cullen. ‘Bet that’s not all he offered, eh? Pretty boy like you, Sundance.’

  Cullen shrugged it off. ‘Not far off. McLintock and Williams were lovers.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Bain’s mouth hung open. ‘What, Campbell was a bummer?’

  ‘Brian, would you—’

  ‘So they did share this house.’ Bain gasped. ‘And with a hammer the size of McLintcock’s, I dare say he was doing the pounding.’ His eyes went out of focus.

  ‘Would you just shut the fuck up?’ Lamb put a hand over Bain’s mouth. ‘Scott, did you get anything else?’

  ‘Campbell had muscle-boy fantasies, satisfied by rentboys.’

  Lamb let Bain’s mouth go. ‘How the hell did we not know?’

  ‘Because any indiscretion might’ve fucked big Campbell in the arse, him being a respected lawyer and all.’ Bain shook his head. ‘One thing being a bummer, quite another seeking out rent boys, eh? But those itches, eh, they scream out to be scratched long and hard. Good old Campbell had the cash, didn’t he? If I were him, I’d call an escort agency and have my pick of the finest crop, get a contract, stick to one or two regulars... The opposite of Williams. Young and virile muscle boys, like sex toys fresh from the box.’ He blinked. ‘How am I doing so far?’

  Cullen stared at him, dumbfounded.

  Bain started laughing. ‘I’m on the money, right?’

  ‘Aye, you are, actually.’

  Lamb turned round. ‘What? He’s right about—?’

  Cullen nodded. ‘Aye, and—’

  ‘Course I am!’ Bain clapped his hands with delight. ‘And Williams was a bottom.’ He gave Lamb a leering look. ‘That means receiver, sir.’

  ‘I know what—’

  ‘And given the size of McLintcock’s plonker, it’s fair to assume Williams isn’t such a tight arse as—’

  ‘Enough!’ Lamb’s shout hit Bain like a punch in the mouth. ‘Sergeant, we’re investigating a man’s murder, and all you can think of is the size of his penis?’

  Bain turned back to Cullen with a petulant frown. ‘McLintock had a much better weapon—’

  ‘Get out!’ Lamb was trembling with rage, wringing the steering wheel as though picturing his hands around Bain’s neck. ‘Now! And fucking grow up or I’ll have you on a disciplinary before you bring up McLintock’s—’

  ‘Aye, aye.’ Bain stepped out into the rainy night, chuckling. But then he leaned back in to peer at Cullen over the head rest. ‘Little birdie tells me you checked into the Tulliallan Ritz, Sundance.’

  ‘You heard him, Brian. Piss off.’

  ‘Fuckin’ charming. I’ll wait in your motor, Sundance.’

  Lamb reached over, but Bain slammed the door shut, hard enough to rock the car. Lamb watched him go, counting to ten under his breath. ‘Have you got any leads?’

  ‘Well, my number one suspect is Vardy. He’s pissed off with McLintock for spending eighteen months on remand.’

  ‘Even though the case is falling apart?’

  ‘Even so. Maybe especially so. Pissed off that he was inside for so long.’

  ‘I don’t buy it.’ Lamb turned around and fixed Cullen with an unreadable stare. ‘Who’s number two?’

  ‘Bain’s rent boy theory. It was like him and Williams were singing from the same hymn sheet.’ Cullen stared at the dark gate. ‘I got a name for the rent boy.’

  ‘Someone we know?’

  ‘Big Rob.’

  Lamb drew a sharp breath. ‘Him…’ A tense silence settled between them, until Lamb took another breath, this one short and sharp. ‘You think he’s this Batman figure?’

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

  ‘I don’t, Scott. Sorry. It just seems…’

  Through the rain, the other car’s lights flashed. Bain, impatient to get going.

  Cullen patted Lamb on the shoulder and cracked the door open. ‘I know Big Rob from a case me and Craig Hunter worked back in the dim and distant. Guy looks like he’s chiselled from marble.’

  ‘You know where to find him?’

  ‘Know where to start, anyway.’

  ‘Get on it, first thing tomorrow. Forget about Tulliallan. Okay? You’re on this full-time. Need you in bright and early.’

  Tuesday

  14th February

  18

  A phone rang somewhere.

  Cullen opened his bleary eyes and scanned around the bright room looking for the bastard thing. Things weren’t where they usually were. And neither was he. He was in a room at Tulliallan, lying on the luminous white sheet, still wearing his crumpled suit from the night before. Alone. Hadn’t even managed to turn off the light before he passed out.

  And his phone was still ringing and ringing and ringing and nowhere in sight.

  He felt a sharp tingle in his chest and a thick vibration, drilling into his ribs. He fumbled his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and answered the call. ‘Cullen.’ His voice sounded like he’d been shitfaced the night before.

  Just silence in his ear. ‘Scott?’ Buxton’s voice. ‘Did I wake you?’

  Cullen glanced at his watch. Six oh one. ‘I’ll forgive you. What’s up?’

  ‘You seen Lamb?’

  Cullen sat up on the bed and caught sight of himself in the wall mirror. He looked as rough as he felt. He yawned into his fist. ‘The only Lamb I’ve seen is a load of sheep jumping over stiles in my dreams.’

  ‘Right. Well, tell him I’m looking for him.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m up at Morningside. Some big mansion. Big group of us and no sign of Lamb.’ A pause. ‘Oh, here he comes now. Catch you later.’ Click and he was gone.

  Cullen shook his head, then sat up and yawned again. Too bloody early. And I’ve got to find Big Rob. Could be anywhere. Could be nowhere.

  He kicked open his suitcase and picked up a fresh shirt, badly crumpled. No sign of an iron in the room.

  He lay back on the bed and yawned again.

  I wish I could go back a year and a half. Sort Vardy out once and for all. Stop him getting in that flat, in that bedroom. Take the gun off him and shoot him. Stop all this bullshit.

  And while I’m at it, I could sort myself out as well. Keep my mouth shut, instead of proposing to Sharon in a panic to patch up a broken relationship.

  Or I’d grow a pair and go through with it, but this time I’d go for broke. No hanging about, no holding back, no backing out. Be a differe
nt person.

  Shite, I’ve no idea know what I want.

  He caught a pong of stale sweat.

  But a shower would be a good place to start.

  ‘Sorry, sir.’ The gym receptionist focused on his computer screen, the cross trainers grinding behind him as early-morning mentalists sweated pints. The receptionist’s University of Edinburgh polo shirt was soaked through with sweat already. Roasting in there. ‘Robert hasn’t swiped in for a few months now.’

  Cullen yawned into his fist, spraying saliva. ‘But he is a member here, right?’

  ‘That’s correct. Robert has been a member since, oh, 2011.’

  Right after we shut down his previous place.

  ‘Does he still pay the monthly membership?’

  ‘Annual, I’m afraid.’

  Cullen used the desk to push up to standing. ‘Can you give me an address or—’

  ‘Sorry, sir, we don’t hold that information. You need to check with the university.’

  ‘Right.’ University gym meant the membership database was held centrally. Meaning a warrant. ‘Okay, thanks for your time.’ Cullen stepped out into the cold morning.

  So he’s been here, but isn’t here at the moment.

  I know Big Rob – spends all day in the gym. Well, when he’s not posing for some muscle magazine.

  A parking attendant was taking an interest in his Golf. ‘Police!’

  That got a nod, making the wee nyaff scamper off like a rat down a drainpipe.

  So, where now?

  No idea.

  Cullen slowed behind the bus, pulling out to peer round. A solid queue of traffic barred him from overtaking. An even thicker queue waited to get on the bus.

  Bloody hell. He leaned back in the seat. Be quicker walking. Not that there’s anywhere to park.

  His phone rang. The dashboard display read Budgie calling. He hit the answer button on the wheel. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Just spoken to a neighbour who claims she saw a man fight some superhero in McLintock’s garden last night. That was you, wasn’t it?’