Cross Purpose

by Claire MacLeary

  ‘No dads?’

  ‘Not a one to be seen. What d’you think will happen to the kids now?’

  ‘Most likely get taken into care,’ Wilma slurred, her eyes heavy with fatigue. ‘And once that bunch of bleedin do-gooders from Social Services get involved, there’s no telling where those weans will end up.’

  ‘But it’s not as if the boys did anything wrong. I mean, Lucy was most likely already dead when they found her. The rest you can put down to… Oh, I don’t know, kids do such random things. I suppose they were culpable in not ringing the police straight away, but the poor girl could have been lying there for goodness knows how long. Those kids were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  ‘Well,’ Wilma covered her friend’s free hand with her own, ‘that surveillance practice of yours in Seaton fairly paid off. If you hadn’t acted on your instincts and chased up the drugs angle, you’d never have found out about the other thing and the police might still be going round in circles. Makes you a proper private investigator now, don’t you think?’

  Maggie gave a huge yawn. ‘If you say so. What about you, though, getting Brannigan to own up to perjury?’

  ‘Christ,’ Wilma grinned, ‘that was some sport.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Don’t give me that face.’

  ‘I’m not. You did well, there, Wilma. And we’ve travelled a fair distance together, you and me. But…’ Her face clouded suddenly. ‘There’s a way to go yet, before I’ll get justice for George.’

  No Comment

  ‘Christopher – is it all right if I call you Christopher?’

  The lad they called Fatboy leaned back in his seat. ‘You can call me anything you like,’ he answered with a careless shrug.

  Brian pursed his lips. He could see this was going to be a bummer. Chisolm had wanted to put someone else on it, but Brian had argued his corner. He wanted this one for Maggie.

  ‘Well,’ he responded smoothly, ‘Christopher will do for now. So, Christopher, perhaps you’d care to tell me what you were doing in a seventh-floor flat at Esplanade Court in Seaton?’

  Fatboy eyed the detective. ‘No comment.’

  Inwardly, Brian sighed. ‘How would you respond if I told you that a quantity of drugs and a large sum of money were found in that flat?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Not to mention the implement Brian had been briefed on. X marks the spot. Once again, the words ratcheted through his head. And a mountain of empty Calpol bottles. He wondered if the guy was a kiddie-fiddler and all. ‘OK, then,’ Brian focused his thoughts. ‘Let’s go back to the Castlegate. What have you been up to there?’

  Heavy sigh. ‘No comment.’

  Christ, what are they like? Watching too much telly, the lot of them. ‘Do I take it you’d prefer to wait until your lawyer gets here?’ He threw a meaningful glance at Susan Strachan, whom DI Chisolm had insisted on assigning to the interview for a bit of empathy. ‘For the benefit of the tape, the suspect has been cautioned but has declined his right to have a solicitor present.’

  Fatboy leaned forward. ‘As I’ve already informed your desk sergeant, my father will see to all that.’

  ‘Your father, eh?’

  The big lad sat back. ‘James Gilruth. You do know who he is?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Brian nodded. ‘I know who James Gilruth is all right.’ He paused for a long moment. ‘Only…’

  Fatboy cocked his head.

  ‘We’ve got a wee problem there.’

  ‘A problem?’ A flicker of alarm crossed the young man’s face.

  ‘Yes.’ Brian was beginning to enjoy this. ‘He seems to have disappeared.’ Fatboy started. ‘How d’you mean disappeared?’

  ‘I mean he can’t be reached.’

  Gilruth’s maybe got himself a bidey-in, Brian mused. He felt a stirring in his crotch. Christ knows when Brian last had sex. He folded his hands in his lap to hide his erection.

  ‘But…’

  Brian jerked his head towards his DC.

  ‘We’ve made repeated attempts to contact Mr Gilruth,’ Susan smiled sympathetically, ‘but I’m afraid his phone is switched off.’

  ‘That can’t be right. He never switches it off.’

  She didn’t miss a beat. ‘Somebody has.’

  ‘Well, my mother…’

  ‘Oh…’ Tumescence subsided, Brian clutched a hand dramatically to his head, ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Christopher…’

  Fatboy eyed Brian. He didn’t look nearly so nonchalant now.

  ‘Your mum’s in Accident & Emergency. Up at ARI,’ he added for good effect.

  ‘But how could she…?’

  ‘What do you mean, Christopher?’ Answer a question with a question. If the bastard was hell-bent on going ‘no comment’, two could play that game.

  ‘I don’t understand what…’

  ‘Seems there was a wee altercation.”

  ‘An altercation?’ Fatboy echoed. ‘Who with?’

  Brian adopted a po face. ‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

  ‘When did this happen? Can you tell me that?’

  ‘Earlier this evening, so I’ve been informed.’

  ‘Where?’

  Brian leaned forward across the table. He lowered his voice. ‘At your parents’ home. Rubislaw Den, that right?’

  Fatboy blanched.

  Brian grinned. ‘Why don’t we start again?’

  I Forgot to Say

  ‘What are you two doing up there?’ Maggie shouted up the stairs.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Colin Laird, you’ve been doing “nothing” for the past two hours. I need Wilma down here to help me with some billing.’

  Colin stuck his head round the bedroom door. ‘Chill, Mum.’

  ‘I’ll “chill” you, you big lump.’ Maggie marched up the stairs. ‘And take that thing off your head.’

  ‘It’s not a thing. It’s a beanie, Mum.’

  No! Maggie’s heart skipped a beat. Please God, no! When the kids had owned up to moving Lucy’s body she’d assumed no one else could have been involved. She made to push past into Colin’s room. Dispel for good and all the notion that had been burning a hole in her head.

  ‘Mu-um…’ He barred the way. ‘You can’t come in here.’

  Oh, Lord! Her chest tightened. ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘Because me’n Wilma are working on a project.’

  Her whole body sagged in relief. ‘A school project?’

  Colin shuffled his feet. ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Well…’ Suddenly, Maggie felt the need to sit down. ‘If it isn’t homework, Wilma needs to come downstairs and give me a hand. We are supposed to be running a business.’

  ‘Give us five minutes, Mum.’

  ‘Colin.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need Wilma now.’

  x

  ‘Well, if it isn’t Mrs Harcus.’ Maggie looked up from her billing.

  ‘And if it isn’t Missus Laird.’ Wilma responded with a cheeky grin.

  Maggie set her chin.

  ‘Oh, come on, don’t be so sarky.’

  ‘Sarky? You’ve got a nerve. I’ve been wading through this billing for an hour or more while you’ve been upstairs playing computer games with Colin.’

  ‘Tough titty.’

  Maggie winced.

  ‘And we weren’t playing computer games.’

  ‘What were you doing, then?’

  Wilma threw her a sideways look. ‘Research, if you must know.’

  ‘Research?’ Maggie hooted. ‘You?’

  ‘Just because I never went to college.’

  ‘Oh, Wilma,’ her expression was crestfallen, ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  Wilma laughed.
‘Just taking the piss.’

  ‘Well, don’t. We’ve got a mountain of stuff to get through, and enough time’s been wasted already.’

  ‘Fine.’ Wounded voice. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘Research, you said?’ Maggie moved to make amends.

  ‘Yes. Colin was showing me how you can use a RAT. Remote Access Tool, to you. Enables you to access other folk’s computers.’

  ‘Spare me the details. All I want to know is are they legal, these things?’

  Wilma deliberated for a moment. ‘Depends. The tools themselves are legal.’ She flashed a wicked grin. ‘It’s what you use them for.’

  She changed the subject. ‘Have you heard any more out of Queen Street?’

  ‘No.’ Maggie shuffled envelopes into a neat pile. ‘I expect Brian’s up to his neck, what with the boys and…’

  ‘It was thon drug dealer I had in mind,’ Wilma mused. ‘Wonder who he is? Fair gave you a fright, by all accounts.’

  ‘When will tea be ready?’ Colin ambled into the dining room.

  Maggie looked up from the table. ‘Half an hour.’

  ‘Half an hour? I’m starving, Mum.’

  ‘Well, if you hadn’t kept Wilma upstairs…’ She broke off. ‘How do you know about these RAT things anyway?’

  ‘Oh,’ he shrugged, ‘everybody knows about those. Everybody my age, anyway,’ he added.

  ‘Kirsty texted. She’s coming home in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Thought she had a summer job.’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘Why’s she coming home, then?’

  ‘The project she’s been working on is going to finish early. Isn’t that great?’

  No response.

  ‘Colin.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Oh, damn and blast!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can never get a word out of you.’

  Colin looked blank. ‘I just said a word.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Very funny,’ Maggie spat.

  ‘Just kidding.’ Colin returned a beatific smile.

  Her heart melted. She’d been so hard-pressed since she took on the business, she realised, that she hadn’t stopped to count her blessings. Her son had such a sweet nature, and in no time at all she’d have both her children back home. Maggie started mapping out in her head the things the three of them would do together.

  x

  ‘Mu-um. Are you listening to me?’

  ‘Sorry, Col, what were you saying?’

  Wilma had gone home and Maggie and her son were sitting at the dining table.

  ‘I was saying, d’you remember way back, when you went for that what-do-you-call-it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The hair thing.’

  ‘Oh,’ she chuckled, ‘you mean my makeover?’

  ‘Right. Well, you asked me about some guy at Gordon’s – Chris something or other.’

  ‘Christopher Gilruth.’

  ‘And I didn’t give you an answer.’

  ‘No. Not that that’s unusual.’

  ‘Name didn’t click at the time.’ Colin scraped the last of the food from his plate. ‘Chris left over a year ago.’

  ‘That’s OK. Doesn’t matter now.’

  ‘But, Mum…’

  ‘Mmmm?’

  ‘I remembered right after, only I forgot to say.’ He frowned. ‘You know how we call one another by our nicknames at school?’

  ‘Ye-es?’

  ‘Well, Christopher Gilruth, the guy you were asking about… His nickname – it was Fatboy.’

  A Result

  ‘Well,’ Chisolm fixed his sergeant with a hard stare, ‘did you get a result?’

  Brian Burnett edged in the door. Dropped onto a chair. ‘No, sir. Not to begin with, anyhow. Suspect went “no comment” at the start.’

  ‘Lawyer?’

  ‘Lad was read his rights when he was booked in. Didn’t want to know. My father will see to it, sez he. Mother was in bits when Drugs broke the news. Looked like she’d already done a couple of rounds in the ring, mind.’

  ‘Domestic?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘Likely to be pressing charges?’

  ‘In Rubislaw Den? Fat chance.’

  ‘The Den? So what I’ve heard is correct?’

  ‘On the nail, sir. Got positive identification not long since: one Christopher James Gilruth.’

  ‘Jes-us,’ the inspector whistled through his teeth. ‘James Gilruth Junior. Who’d ever have believed we’d get one over on Gilruth?’

  ‘Not “over” exactly, sir.’

  Chisolm shrugged. ‘Near as. Where is he, anyway, our James? From what I’ve heard of the man, I assumed he’d be in here like a bullet, with a line-up of the legal profession’s finest as long as your arm.’

  ‘Can’t be reached, sir. So we’ve been told.’

  ‘Out of town?’

  ‘Not according to the wife. But his phone’s switched off.’

  ‘That’s not like Gilruth. If ever there was a man who likes to be in control…’

  ‘Mebbe he’s got himself a bidey-in.’

  The inspector scoffed. ‘Why would he do that, Sergeant? I understand he’s got a ready supply.’

  ‘All those hairdressers.’ Brian rolled his eyes. ‘A free massage any time you fancy, never mind a bit of “personal service” when the notion takes you.’

  ‘Enough of that.’ Chisolm changed tack. ‘At the start, you said? So the suspect didn’t manage to keep it up, then, the “no comment”?’

  ‘You have to be joking, sir. Once that wee lassie of yours came on with her sympathy routine, he wanted to tell her his life story.’ Brian smirked. ‘Still going, last I heard.’

  ‘You haven’t left her in there on her own, Burnett? Once James Gilruth gets wind, our man will be down here like the bloody proverbial. Need I remind you that interview room protocol needs to be strictly adhered to? More so since…’

  ‘Understood.’ Brian didn’t need reminding. Hadn’t Maggie Laird’s problems sprung from just such a breach? ‘Once I’ve given you the update I’ll get back down there pronto. In the meantime I’ve somebody keeping an eye via the camera link.’

  ‘Good man. The suspect, has he admitted to pushing the drugs? That’s what matters.’

  ‘Yes sir. He’s owned up to the drugs. All pretty low level, from what he’s told us so far. Says he’s been using since second year at school. Started supplying to friends. Went from there.’

  ‘So why would a…’

  ‘Arrogant bastard. Said he did it because he was bored.’

  ‘Bored?’

  Brian shrugged. ‘That’s what the fella said.’

  ‘So how come this Christopher Gilruth was running that young boy? Meston, isn’t it?’

  ‘Da’s in the nick, sir. Kid volunteered, allegedly. Wanted to maintain an income stream for his ma.’

  ‘And this high-rise flat, what was Gilruth doing there?’

  ‘Passing the time, according to him, while his runner did trades elsewhere.’

  ‘So,’ Chisolm countered, ‘what’s stopping our Christopher doing the trades himself, did you manage to establish that?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Fella thinks he’s Mister Big.’

  ‘How old did you say this guy was?’

  ‘Nineteen.’

  ‘Way to go. In Aberdeen, anyhow, from what I’ve heard.’

  ‘You’re right there. If the serious players get a handle on him, he’ll be mincemeat.’

  ‘Drugs tell me they turned up a load of B-class stuff and a heap of cash when they searched the place.’

  ‘Hadn’t got that.’

  ‘They’ve been watching t
he place for days. Seems your intel was spot on, Sergeant.’

  ‘Looks like it, sir.’ Brian tried not to look smug.

  ‘What about the other stuff?’

  ‘There’s usually a bunch of kids in that flat, we’ve been told.’

  ‘Teenagers?’

  ‘No, sir. Little kids. Three…four…Pre-school, anyhow.’

  The DI fingered his stubble. ‘I see. And have we managed to establish how the suspect got an intro to the flat in the first place?’

  ‘Through young Meston, sir. One of the boys we’re interviewing, Ryan Brebner, the wee brother Kyle goes there. Willie Meston gets sent to pick the child up once in a while.’

  ‘And the woman?’

  ‘Kymberley Ewen. Single parent. Three of the children living at the locus are hers. Apparently she’s been child minding on the sly for a couple of years. Drugs got that from the neighbours. Not that she’ll be registered,’ Brian sniffed. ‘History of abuse there too: alcohol, prescription drugs.’

  ‘Do we have Ewen in custody?’

  ‘No, sir. Kym was AWOL when the raid took place. They’ve put out a shout for her. She’ll be steamin fu somewhere. Can’t have got far. Apparently Gilruth was in the habit of slipping her a few quid so she could go off and have a bevvy.’

  ‘Leaving him alone in the flat with the kids.’ Chisolm frowned. ‘Our Christopher a kiddy-fiddler?’

  ‘Says not. By his account, he was just passing the time.’

  ‘In a high rise in Seaton with a bunch of under fives?’ He snorted. ‘That’ll be right.’

  Brian scratched his head. ‘Suspect told us he was ‘holding the fort’.’

  ‘Who for?’

  ‘The child minder. Alleges he was just “giving Kym a wee break”. Then, when she tootles off, he keeps the kids occupied. Plays party games.’

  ‘And you’d swallow that?’

  Brian shrugged. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘And all the while this happy-clappy’s going on upstairs, the Meston kid’s off trading round the tower blocks?’

  ‘So it’s alleged. Doesn’t look good, does it, sir?’

  ‘It certainly does not. Plus, if it was all so fucking Blue Peter in there,’ Chisolm folded his arms across his chest, ‘how come they’re running toxicology tests on those kids?’