Devil in the Detail (Scott Cullen Mysteries) (37 page)

Cook sat there with his mouth open.

"Seamus Mulgrew was murdered some time on Monday evening," said Bain.

Cullen spotted tears in Cook's eyes. He didn't speak for a long time.

Bain cleared his throat. "Mandy's time of death was approximately eleven pm on Sunday night," he said.
 

Cook's eyes flicked from Bain to Cullen and back again. "So it wasn't at the same time?"

"Very good," said Bain. "Keep trying."

Cook looked at Cullen then Lamb. "Mandy was killed on Sunday night?"

"That's right."

Cook sat there, silent and unmoving.
 

Cullen took the initiative. "Jamie," he said. Cook looked over to him. "By your own admission, you were in Garleton at approximately the time of Mandy's death. Is that not the case?"

"Well, I was still in the town but, as I said, I got the last bus to Haddington."

"And what time was that exactly?"

"I've told you this," said Cook. "It's at eleven on the dot. Leaves North Berwick at quarter to, I think. Gets to Haddington at ten past."

"And aside from the bus driver, was there anyone else on the bus?" asked Cullen.

"Think it was just me."

"Was there anyone else that could have seen you?"

"No." Cook rubbed his temple. "No."
 

"Nobody else?" asked Cullen.

"No."

"Very convenient, son," said Bain.

Cook burst into tears. "I didn't kill them," he shouted.

Bain leaned forward. "There's no evidence to suggest that you didn't."

Tears slicked Cook's face. He pushed his hair back. It was damp with the sweat and it held in position, standing up.

"You're in a lot of trouble here," said Bain. "You've got a motive and you haven't got an alibi. We need to know what happened."

Cook sighed. "Where was Mandy's body? In her house?"

"Balgone Ponds," said Bain.

Cook screwed his face up. "But that's miles from Garleton."

"Aye," said Bain. "They were both found there."

"And you think I put them there?"

"Didn't you?"

"Of course not," said Cook. "I think you'll find that my car was at the house all day on Sunday. How could I have got them there?"

"Have you got any witnesses that say it was there all the time?" asked Bain.

Cook's eyes suddenly lit up. "You've got nothing on me, have you?"

"We've got something," said Bain.

"What?"

"Motives for killing both victims," said Bain. "Most judges and juries love that stuff."

"I wasn't even in the town when Mulgrew was killed," he shouted, "so how could I have done it?"

"You were in the town when Mandy was killed," said Bain, "then you hurriedly left." His lip curled up. "I'll settle for your conviction on that one."

Cook sat in silence. Cullen thought his skin looked a few shades whiter than when they'd started.

"There's something you should know," said Cook. "I just remembered. I mean, my brain's frazzled with all the Jack I've had but I did see someone when I got on the bus."

"Right," said Bain, "who?"

Cook paused for what seemed like hours to Cullen. "I saw Thomas's Dad take Mandy into Mulgrew's house."

Cullen and Bain sat in the meeting area near their usual office space, Lamb joined them. Cullen could see Sharon plus others from Turnbull's wider team, but tried to avoid eye contact and instead focus on the task at hand.

"What the fuck just happened there?" asked Bain.
 

"He's telling us that he saw Charles Gibson taking his daughter to Mulgrew's on Sunday night," said Cullen.

"It feels to me that he's playing us," said Lamb. "He's a little bastard, always playing tricks like this. The way I see it, he's desperate and is clutching at straws."

"Sundance?"

Cullen had thought through the new development on their way up. To him, it was shades of grey rather than the black or white Bain preferred. "I'd disagree," he said.
 

"How?" said Bain. "The little prick is trying to trip us up, isn't he?"

"Well, what I mean is that I don't think we should immediately assume that he is trying to throw us off," said Cullen. "He might be telling the truth."

"So you're saying that we give him the benefit of the doubt?" asked Bain.

"I'm suggesting that we investigate his claim," said Cullen. "If it's true then it blows all of our assumptions." He looked straight at Bain. "You've got something like forty officers on this case."

"Thirty seven," said Bain.

"I'd suggest you put five or six on checking his story out," said Cullen. "It's that important. It could blow the whole case wide open."

"Fine, let's fuckin' do it," said Bain.

Lamb shrugged. "It's a gamble," he said. "It's your case, Brian."

"Too right it is," said Bain. "Putting that to one side, then, what do we reckon? Cook killed them both?"

"It fits," said Lamb.

"I agree it fits," said Cullen, "I'm not sure that we've enough to be charging him just yet."

"What else do we need to cover, then?" asked Bain.

"We've got that car at the scene of the murder on Monday night for starters," said Cullen.

"We've still got two suspects for that," said Bain. "Charles Gibson and Robert Cook. My money is on Robert Cook, helping his son out."

"Didn't cover his tracks very well," said Cullen.

"These are not cold-blooded killings," said Bain.
 

"You're certain of that?"

"As certain of anything," said Bain.

"Don't forget you've got your eyewitness saying that Cook left his house at the right time," said Lamb, with a wink.

Bain glowered. "That gamble could still pay off, Sergeant," he said.
 

"What about Charles Gibson's alibi?" asked Cullen, trying to keep them from each other's throats. "He was supposed to be waiting outside Mulgrew's cottage at the time of Mulgrew's death three miles away."

"McLaren's been round the houses in that street," said Lamb. "Nobody saw anything but I don't think that's particularly conclusive yet. He needs another two or three passes before he's got complete coverage."

Bain closed his eyes. "I want a full fuckin' team round every house on that street, three fuckin' times over. I want everyone who lives there or was there on Monday night found, even if they're in fuckin' Timbuktu. If one punter has spotted him, it clears Gibson, right?"

"Fair enough," said Lamb.

"Wait a minute," said Cullen. "There are thousands of silver Exec class saloons across East Lothian. That's where the Execs all live, especially North Berwick. That car sighting could be unrelated. It could be..." He shrugged. "I don't know, an exec taking his secretary down a country lane, or a couple from a golf club meeting up so their respective husbands and wives don't find out."

"Might be one that we lose from the file when we hand it to the PF," said Bain.
 

"What else do we need to focus on?" asked Lamb.

"Before we hit Cook again," said Bain, "I want this Stevie interviewed. Cullen, you're doing that."

"Fine," said Cullen. "Is he still here?"

"Think so, aye."

"What about me?" asked Lamb.

"This bus driver," said Bain. "I want him in here giving a statement by eight."

"I get all the great jobs, eh?" said Lamb, smiling.

"Don't push it," said Bain.

"What about these mates of Jamie's?" asked Cullen.

"Spider, Simmo, Dean and Nicky, right?" said Bain. He stroked his moustache. "I'll put Irvine on to that. I should be able to pinch Chantal Jain for a few hours."

"Is Caldwell still around?" asked Lamb.

"She is, aye."

"Can I have her?"

"You'll need to get one of your wee laddies out, I'm afraid," said Bain. "She's with Cullen. Isn't Law here, anyway?"

Cullen saw that the entente cordiale was starting to break. He wondered how long it would be until they were back at each other's throats.

"Fine," said Lamb, stroking the triangle of beard.

"You heard Turnbull up the stairs," said Bain. "I'm on hourly updates from him, so I need half-hourly from you boys, or as near as damn it. I will pull you out of interview rooms for an update as well, so be warned."

*

Steven Young had a face full of metal. He had hoops and studs in his nose, ears and eyebrows and a metal spike coming out of his jawbone. His earlobes rings had cut at least two centimetres out of the flesh. Cullen didn't want to think about what might be pierced beneath his clothes. A big guy, Cullen estimated that he was at least 18 stone. His head was shaved but he had a thick beard below the top of his ears. He was wearing all black, a fiery logo on his t-shirt of some metal band Cullen had never heard of.
 

One thing Cullen noticed was that Young could handle his drink better than Jamie Cook. They'd been drinking the same length of time but Young was practically sober. It was either that or Cook hadn't had the same adrenalin spike when he was picked up by the police.

Caldwell sat next to Cullen, scribbling down everything that was said. She was looking tired, obviously less able to handle school night drinking than Cullen or a few of their colleagues.

"Mr Young," said Cullen, "I believe that you are acquainted with one Jamie Cook."

"Do I not get a lawyer?" asked Young.

"You're not under arrest," said Cullen. "We are taking a witness statement and you therefore do not require access to a solicitor."

"So I can just leave, right?"

Cullen paused. "Not yet," he said. "If you leave, there are some nice charges that we could throw at you." He shuffled some papers on the table. "Can you confirm that you are acquainted with Jamie Cook?"

"Aye, I ken Jamie."

"And he came to your flat in Haddington on Sunday night," said Cullen. "Is that right?"

"He did, aye."

"When did he arrive?" asked Cullen.

"About quarter past eleven."

"And what were you doing at the time?"

"I was on my decks," said Young.

"Decks?"

"Record decks," said Young. "For music. DJing."

"Are you a DJ?" he asked.

"Aye," said Young.
 

Cullen left a gap, trying to force Young to fill them. Caldwell wasn't getting much to write down.
 

"In Prestonpans," continued Young, after a pause. "At the Goth Tavern. Every Saturday."

"What did you and Mr Cook do once he arrived?"

"I'd got in some bottles of the Jack Daniels stuff from Aldi and we just started firing into that."

"Did you go to sleep at any point?"

"We did, aye," said Young. "I stayed up later than Jamie. Got to my scratcher at about eight in the morning."

"When did you get up?"

"We got up at the back of two," said Young. "I was shattered but then we went to pick up Jamie's car. We went back to mine and met up with my pal, Spider."

"Does Spider have a name?" asked Cullen.

"Aye, it's Simon Spink."

"Does he live in Haddington?"

"He does, aye." Young gave an address on the west side of Haddington, the part closest to Edinburgh.

"And what time was it that you met up with him?"

"Just after half four," said Young.
 

"And you were there all night?"

Young rubbed his eyes. "Aye, we were," he said. "Right through till we got chucked out."

"Was there anyone else with you?"

"Just us three."

"Did Mr Cook leave at any point?" asked Cullen.

Young played with the spike through his chin. "He did, aye."

Cullen's heart started hammering. "When?"

"It was late on," said Young, "back of eight, maybe. I can't remember. I was pretty trashed. I was playing darts with some old boy."

"And he came back?"

"He did, aye," said Young.
 

"When did he come back?"

"No idea," said Young. "Could have been an hour, could have been ten minutes. Sorry."

Cullen flicked through his notebook. Mulgrew died between 7pm and midnight, according to the interim postmortem. Cook had a window of opportunity - he had to drive to Balgone Ponds, kill Mulgrew and then return to the pub. It was eminently possible. He was lucky he wasn't pulled over for drink driving but then these weren't heavily policed roads.

"Do you know where he went?" asked Cullen.

"Think he went for some food," said Young. "We'd just had crisps all day."

"When did you leave the pub?"

"Back of midnight, as I said," said Young. "They were chucking everyone out. We got fired into some more drink at my flat but we crashed out not long after, maybe the back of three."

"And was Spider with you back at your flat?"

"He was, aye," said Young. "He got up at six for his work this morning."

"Do you know where he works?"

"Just some call centre in Granton," said Young. "That's all I ken, eh?"

Cullen sighed. He could think of at least five. "And what did you and Mr Cook do when you got up this morning?" he asked.

"We drove into Edinburgh," said Young, "to meet up with my mate Simmo."

"And this is Tommy Simpson?"

"It is." Young took a deep breath. "His mate Nicky was round. We went to the pub round the corner, The Shore, and bumped into Dean."

"And you drank in there all day?"

"We did, aye." He snorted.
 

"Can you give me the names and addresses of Dean, Nicky and Simmo, please," said Cullen.
 

"I only ken where Tommy lives, eh?" said Young. He gave the address on Seafield Road, where Cook's car had been found.
 

"What about Nicky or Dean?" asked Cullen.

Young shrugged his shoulders. "No idea."

"Do you know anything about them?"

Young shook his head. "Maybe Simmo can help, eh?"

"What time did you go to the pub today?"

"Back of twelve," said Young.

"And you were there all day after that point?"

"Aye, until that copper came and grabbed us."

"Okay." Cullen stroked his temple, trying to think through the fatigue. He focused on the chain of events - the previous night, when Mulgrew was killed, Jamie had left the pub. He had to have been pretty coherent to have carried it out. "How was Mr Cook both days?" he asked.