by Ed James
The queue shuffled forward one place as the first customer headed off. It was ADC Law. She smiled at Cullen then looked him up and down.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
"Oh, you know, fine," he said.
"Your boss has been swearing his head off in there," she said.
"You've not seen anything yet," he said.
She laughed loudly. "I can imagine."
"What did you go for?" he asked.
"Cajun chicken," she said.
"You like it hot?"
She nodded. "Oh, yes." She raised an eyebrow. "What are you going for?"
"Pastrami, I think."
"Mmm."
Cullen's phone rang. He held it up to her. "Better take this," he said, thinking it would be Jamie Cook.
She tapped his arm and grinned. Cullen felt himself blush. "I'll see you back over the road." He nodded and she walked off.
He checked the display on his phone. It was Sharon. He reddened further. He needed to stop whatever Law was up to.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey. How's it going?"
"Flat out," he said. "Out in East Lothian. Child murder."
"Oh magic, just what you want," said Sharon.
"What about you?"
"Stabbing in Wester Hailes," she said.
"Trying to work out who's the luckier."
She laughed. "Listen, are you coming to mine before the Burn's Supper?"
"If you want me to," he said.
"Is there any chance you can get some cat litter on your way home?"
"I'll try," he said, shuffling forward one in the queue. "Can't promise anything. This isn't looking like it's going to wrap up any time this week."
"We need some," she said. "Fluffy peed in the bath again."
Cullen suddenly had a moment of clarity. In the past six months, his life had changed so much that he wasn't talking about clubbing, but was now talking about cats pissing in baths. Six months ago, it was what he wanted, but now...
"I'll see what I can do," he said.
"Thanks," she said. "Are you okay?"
"Aye, why wouldn't I be?"
"Scott, you're investigating a child murder, it's known as harrowing."
"I'm trying to be a seasoned detective, Sharon," he said, "this stuff has to just wash off me."
She laughed. "I'm serious."
"I know, I know," he said. "Look, it's okay. We'll get to the bottom of this and I'll be fine."
"Just make sure you are," she said. "I'd better go. Love you."
"See you later," he said.
He ended the call, pocketed the phone and wondered why he couldn't say the 'L word' back.
ten
Fifteen minutes later and Cullen sat at the back of the Incident Room, finishing off a foot long sub which had filled his stomach if not satisfied his taste buds. The Cajun chicken might have been the better option.
Bain had managed to obtain upwards of twenty officers, the majority of whom had come from the other East Lothian stations. Law, McLaren, Murray and Lamb sat on office chairs beside Bain, chatting amongst themselves as the great man stared at the newly-installed whiteboard, trying to conjure some leads from it. Cullen was thankful that Law hadn't come over and recommenced flirting. He really needed to nip that in the bud - he'd done nothing and planned to do nothing, but the fact that Caldwell had noticed meant that it would be out in the open sooner rather than later.
Just as Cullen scrunched up his lunch bag, Irvine appeared carrying a Gregg's bag. He handed Bain a sandwich, sausage roll and coffee then sat down across from Lamb as he tucked into his own lunch. He deposited his wad of gum into a tissue and put it on the table.
Cullen's phone rang - the display showed an unknown number. He knew people that never answered those types of calls but to Cullen it could have been anyone. Any number of contacts in West Lothian had his number - snouts, busybodies, gossips - and, while he didn't work there any more, he could pass them onto someone who did.
He answered the call.
He heard music down the line - the rattle of a tambourine and a dirty throbbing bass guitar. He didn't recognise the song - it was the sort of indie rock that Cullen had stood through at countless festivals over the years while his ex-girlfriend tossed her hair from side to side in time with the music, usually before he had to hoist her onto his shoulder. Guitar cut in, choppy chords played on a distorted electric, along with singing in a harsh and guttural Scottish accent, the sort that could have come from either Glasgow or Edinburgh, or any of the myriad towns in between. The voice was singing a mantra - 'Where have you gone?' over and over as the music changed underneath.
"Hello?" he called three times. He hung up before the song went anywhere near a chorus.
Nobody else in the room appeared to have noticed. He was sweating - the room was only just warming up from its long, unused chill, but he was soaked through.
Cullen had never received a crank call before. He didn't know what to do. He could think of a hundred people that would want to get at him but couldn't think of a single one that would have his number. The only likely candidate he could think of was Jamie Cook - he'd phoned him half an hour previously. Why he would phone and leave a message like that was beyond Cullen. He had seen some pretty fucked up people over the years - maybe what Mulgrew and the boy's parents said was true and Cook was so far off the rails that goading the police was something he actively pursued.
Bain finally turned round and called the officers to order. Cullen finally joined Bain and Irvine at the front. Caldwell sat next to Lamb.
Bain had managed to appropriate the station's brand new whiteboard, a large screen mounted on a frame with metal legs ending in castors. Bain was at home, poised by it, his hand pointing and prodding as he went over the case so far - Mandy's body, her parents, God's Rainbow, Seamus Mulgrew and Jamie Cook. He had drawn a rough map of Garleton around the Gibsons' house and a larger scale one which showed Garleton and Balgone Ponds. He used Cullen's investigation in the main, plus bits and pieces gathered by Lamb and his team which was news to Cullen - witness statements from the streets around Gibson, Cook and Mulgrew which hadn't yielded anything - as well as the information that Murray had discovered about Charles Gibson's car heading off. A printed photo of Mandy was stuck in the centre, shots of her parents and brother, Thomas, just beside it. Cullen still wanted to speak to her brother one-on-one, away from his parents. There were boxes drawn on the board which represented the Cooks and the Russells as well as a box for Seamus Mulgrew.
Mandy's teddy bear was represented by a childish-looking drawing. "Cullen found a teddy bear belonging to the deceased," said Bain. "James Anderson has taken the bear into the lab, but he's given us a health warning that we're likely to get nothing from it other than a fuck load of dust mites. It does confirm the likely chain of events - Mandy somehow got out of the house and was on her way to see her friend Susan Russell. It would appear that Mandy was abducted during this trip." Bain stared at Cullen. "DC Cullen," he said, "you've been doing most of the door to door, so can you give us an update on any suspects?"
Cullen looked around at the strange faces and the few familiar ones amongst them. "We have a ... not quite a suspect just yet but someone we need to speak to," he said. "Jamie Cook. You've already mentioned him. His parents are members of the same religious group as Mandy's parents. Nobody can say a good word about him, including his parents. Seamus Mulgrew said that if there was a chief suspect in this case, it's Jamie Cook. We need to bring him in."
"Right," said Bain. He looked straight at Lamb. "Bill, can you use your local colour and get your lot out looking for Cullen's almost suspect?"
Lamb grinned. "Will do."
"I do have Jamie Cook's mobile number," said Cullen, leaving out the phone call he had received. "We should get a trace done on it."
"Fine," said Bain. He looked at Caldwell. "Think you can manage that, princess?"
She nodded but her face flushed with the obvious anger of being
publicly patronised yet again by Bain.
"We need to get background checks done on Charles and Elaine Gibson," said Cullen, "if they haven't already been done, and also on Seamus Mulgrew."
"What sort of name is that, by the way?" asked Bain.
"Irish," said Cullen.
"Aye, very good, Sundance," said Bain. "Don't you get too smart with me, all right?"
Time was that sort of comment from Bain wouldn't have rolled off Cullen so easily.
"What do we know about him?" asked Bain.
"He's Irish, runs a religious group which most of the local community seem to have joined," said Cullen.
"What do we know about this group then?" asked Bain, looking at Lamb, McLaren and Murray.
Lamb answered. "What we do know is that it's called God's Rainbow," he said. "That's pretty much it. We have been getting some checks done on it. It is set up as a charity so the records should be public."
"I don't want us to go in two-footed on some group like this," said Bain. "We're investigating a murder, not a mass suicide. Keep focused on that." He took a deep breath. "Before we get too much on them, I'd like you to dig up any further local gen that you can."
"We're not going in too aggressively, Brian," said Lamb, his voice hard and forceful. "Us simple country hick officers are only used to investigating housebreakings, not infiltrating religious groups. I will defer to your authority."
There was a stifled laugh from Lamb's officers plus a few of the uniforms. Cullen himself had to look away.
"Okay," called Bain, trying to regain control. "Angela, can you do some digging into this Mulgrew's background while you're getting the trace done? Same with Mandy's folks."
Caldwell nodded. "Will do."
"Cheers," said Bain. He looked at the wider group again. "We have interviewed the parents, though we didn't get much. Scene of Crime have been through Mandy's room, but haven't completed their investigation yet. We need a connection between Mandy and Jamie Cook, other than this religious group."
"Jamie Cook's parents told us that Jamie used to have sleepovers at his friends' houses," said Cullen. "Those friends are Thomas Gibson and Malcolm Thornton."
"Wait, how old is this boy?" asked Bain.
"Seventeen."
"And the other two?"
"They're seventeen as well," said Lamb.
"So you're saying that Jamie Cook had the opportunity to get at Mandy?" asked Bain.
Cullen shrugged. "It's possible."
Bain shook his head and closed his eyes. "What the fuck are these lot up to at these sleepovers?"
"They're probably too pissed to go home so they crash out at the house of the most lenient one."
"And you're saying that's Charles Gibson?"
"Malcolm Thornton's parents, as well," said Cullen. "They don't seem to have stayed at Jamie Cook's house too often."
"Fine."
"One last thing about the family," said Cullen. "You know that Mandy Gibson had severe learning difficulties and brain damage from an accident with a bus in Edinburgh a few years ago. It instigated the family moving here."
"Aye, we've been over that, Sundance," said Bain, "if you'd actually bothered listening."
"What I mean is that they might have run away from something."
Bain squinted and focused on Lamb and his team. "Bill, thoughts?"
It was Lamb's turn to screw his face up. "I'd say this is more like running to, than running from, Brian," he said.
Cullen had noticed that Lamb kept addressing Bain by his first name which would no doubt be grating on the DI already.
"They have come here to restart their lives," continued Lamb, "in a nice small town with a good school. Do you live in Edinburgh yourself?"
Bain raised an eyebrow. "Bathgate."
"There you go, Brian," said Lamb. "You've escaped the city for a quieter life."
Bain didn't seem to want to labour the point. "Bathgate is hardly quiet," he muttered. "Right, Cullen, anything else?"
"I'm not going to mention the possibility of abduction because of Charles Gibson's job," said Cullen, "but-"
"Good for you," said Bain, cutting him off.
"But we need to spend some time working out how Mandy escaped from her house last night," said Cullen. "The Gibsons' statements had Elaine Gibson putting her daughter to bed at about nine. Then it turns out that Charles Gibson left in the evening to see Mulgrew. Could he have left the door open when he got back?"
Bain nodded slowly. "I see what you're saying," he said. "It's a bit of a blunder if he did, to say the least. I'll have a think about it." He stroked his moustache. "Right, are you done now?"
"For now," said Cullen.
"So what next for you and Batgirl, then?" he asked.
"I'd like to speak to Malcolm Thornton and his parents about these sleepovers," he said. "It would be useful if we could speak to someone at the school."
"Speak to the Thorntons and report back here," said Bain. He took a deep breath. "Right, DS Irvine, what's been going on up at the crime scene."
Irvine snorted. "I'll be honest and say that nothing much has," he said, his jaws pounding and his lips smacking together. "Of the four cottages, we've now spoken to all the residents. Two key things to note. The first is that the elderly couple that DC Cullen told us about saw nothing. The wife has a cold so they didn't walk the dog at the usual time." He was looking at Cullen, as if blaming him for wasting his time speaking to them. "The second thing is closing out whether the gatehouse owners saw anything - they didn't. We spoke to the couple in cottage number two - they're both teachers in Haddington - and they confirmed that the owners of the gatehouse are in France skiing. I can't even spell the name of the resort, so I won't try to pronounce it."
"That's fine," said Bain. "Tying up loose ends is good."
"Thanks," said Irvine.
"Okay," said Bain, "time for actions for the rest of the afternoon. Bill, can you and your boys get on top of finding Jamie Cook?"
Lamb gave a reluctant nod.
"Take as many uniform as you need," he said. He looked at Cullen. "Sundance, you and Caldwell get over to speak to the Thorntons."
"Fine."
"The rest of you, please speak to DS Irvine," said Bain. "And last but not least, Irvine and I will attend the postmortem." He checked his watch. "It should be kicking off just now. Anything else?"
Nobody had anything.
eleven
The Thornton family lived on Dunpender Loan, around the tight corner at the junction with Hopetoun Street with Dunpender Road. From the relative positions of the Thornton and Gibson houses, Cullen figured that the gardens would have pretty much bordered at the back. The house was to the same spec and plan as the Gibsons but occupied a larger plot and had a much more impressive garden.
They sat in the living room, Cullen and Caldwell across from Rebecca Thornton on matching leather settees. The room was full of generic neutral tones, equipped like a show home. The place was spotless, not a magazine or newspaper out of place. There were wooden side tables beside the sofas, both of which had iPads sitting on top. Aside from that, there was an absence of much furniture - the place reminded Cullen of a Danish furniture showroom Sharon had dragged him to the last time they were through in Glasgow for the day.
Rebecca wasn't the trophy wife that Gibson and Cook had. She looked harassed and drawn - her skin was red and blotchy, her dark hair grey at the roots and she seemed a good ten or twelve years older than the others. She had an expression on her face as if the world was out to get her.
Cullen had let Caldwell lead the conversation. She had asked the same questions that Cullen had the others and received roughly the same responses. Rebecca trotted out pretty much the same junk about God's Rainbow. Again, they attended the ceremony as usual the previous day, Mandy was a lovely girl but troubled, it was a strain on her family, etcetera, etcetera. Cullen found himself wanting to jump in and ask them about Jamie Cook and the sleepovers, but he held himself back, hoping
that Caldwell would eventually ask about it.
Cullen noticed a silver Mercedes park outside the house.
"That'll be my husband," said Rebecca, getting to her feet.
"Were you expecting him?" asked Caldwell.
"It can be fairly sporadic when he comes home for lunch."
She left the room and went into the hall.
"How am I doing?" asked Caldwell.
"Fine," said Cullen. "Just focus on why we are here."
She nodded. "The sleepovers."
"Aye."
"I'm leading up to that."
"Good."
William Thornton barrelled into the room, a flood of blurring energy. He shook hands with Cullen and Caldwell and then stood there, hands on hips, seemingly waiting for a cue from the officers. Cullen thought he was late fifties, at least ten years older than his wife, and it looked like they'd waited years to start a family. He was tall and lean, well over six foot, and his eyes jumped all over the place, like he was on amphetamines. He was dressed in a three piece pinstripe suit with shiny patterned brogues on his feet. As his wife had told them, he was the local Chartered Accountant, a Partner in Thornton & McCulloch, a company that had six offices spanning East Lothian.
"One of the advantages of being one of the big cheeses locally is that I can come home for lunch every day," said Thornton. "I had a client meeting today, a young couple looking to buy a house locally. You're lucky to catch me."
Cullen thought God's Rainbow certainly attracted the more affluent local residents - of the families they'd met that day; all of the women had been housewives, all of the husbands had been successful professionals – Bank Manager, Company Director and now Chartered Accountant.
Thornton sat next to his wife on the sofa.
Caldwell glanced at Cullen and he responded with a nod. "Mr Thornton," he said, "I believe you have a son, Malcolm?"
"Yes," he replied. "We're very proud of him. Sits his Highers in the summer."
