World's End (Cullen & Bain Book 2)

by Ed James

  ‘So, what do we do now?’

  Cullen checked for traffic then jogged across the road. A row of cottages with big front gardens, out of place on a teeming high street. Certainly no signs of life in the flat above the butcher’s. He crossed back over.

  ‘Doesn’t look like he’s inside.’ Hunter looked round at Cullen. ‘You want to break in?’

  ‘I’ll get annihilated if we do.’

  ‘You don’t think she’s got him in there?’

  ‘Sod it.’ Cullen got out his phone and called Tommy Smith. It just rang and rang. Christ, he’d gone home for the evening. Cullen sifted through his emails and found the invite to Tommy’s impending retirement bash. Bingo — mobile number for RSVPing.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’ Sounded like he was in a bathroom.

  ‘Charming.’ Cullen tried to keep his voice level. ‘Tommy, I need a trace on that mobile number for Jenny Black.’

  ‘Told you, she’s in Spain.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, her phone is.’

  Cullen stared at the butcher’s again, trying to tell himself that this wasn’t just another policeman’s hunch. No — even if Richard Turnbull wasn’t in there, he was still under threat. ‘Can you run a check on another number for me? Richard Turnbull?’

  ‘That the Richard Turnbull that wee Elvis was asking about?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Cullen had no idea what Elvis was up to. Probably crap for Bain.

  ‘Give me a sec, then.’ Sounded like water splashing.

  ‘Are you on the toilet?’

  ‘I’m in the bath. Got it set up so I can play Football Manager on my laptop, resting on a stand.’ He sighed. ‘Or so I can deal with your last-minute nonsense. Okay, I’ve got Turnbull’s mobile on just now and it’s hitting two cell sites in Gilmerton. I’d say it’s the high street there.’

  Cullen swung around, desperately searching for nearby phone masts. ‘There’s a high street here?’

  ‘Alright, what passes for one. Gilmerton Road. You see the Domino’s Pizza?’

  ‘Right.’ And Cullen could see the other mobile mast in the park over the road. Meaning the phone was there. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘What’s this about, Scott?’

  ‘Just make sure that trace goes in my inbox tonight.’

  ‘You still haven’t sent me that RIPSA you’re due me.’

  ‘I’ll do it tonight with another one.’

  ‘Such a chancer.’

  ‘Good luck keeping Hearts up, Tommy.’

  ‘Swirling round the plughole, mate. Bye.’ And he was gone.

  Cullen tried to process it all. Turnbull was here. No way of knowing if Jenny Black was. Assuming she was behind this. ‘Think we should go in?’

  ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘Me working for Bain again.’ Cullen tried a smile, but it felt forced. ‘The worst that happens is we break in on a man asleep. Or on the toilet.’

  ‘Or having sex.’

  ‘Done all three before. Once with two of the three.’

  ‘Shagging on the bog?’

  ‘No, sleeping.’ Cullen didn’t see any other options here. ‘Okay, let’s do this.’

  ‘Just like old times.’

  ‘I’m not your Acting DC, Craig, so you’re busting that door down. I still have a sore shoulder from that gym case.’

  ‘That was a long time ago, mate. You should strengthen up.’ Hunter grabbed the handle and twisted. The door opened. ‘Well, that’ll save wear and tear on your old man’s body.’

  Cullen gestured for him to go first.

  Like stepping into a freezer. It had that meaty sawdusty smell, mixed with industrial cleaners. The meat was all covered up for the night under plastic sheeting. Two doors at the back, one marked “Bathroom”, the other one led to the flat Cullen and Angela had been to that morning. He opened the door and held it. The stairs led up, but there was another room, marked “Store”.

  Hunter stopped dead. ‘You hear that?’

  All Cullen could pick up was the hum of the fridges and the blue fly zapper on the wall. ‘Hear what?’

  ‘People talking.’

  Cullen heard someone say, ‘eat it’.

  ‘Come on.’ Hunter snapped out his baton. Always looked so much cooler than when Cullen did it. Then again, he’d actually killed people so maybe it wasn’t so cool.

  Cullen followed suit, but his baton cracked loud.

  A sharp ‘shhhh’ came from inside the back room.

  Hunter pushed against the wall at the other side of the door.

  Cullen took the handle and yanked, then eased the door open.

  Inside, a woman was sitting on a chair, reaching around Richard Turnbull, propped up, his back resting against her knees. She was stuffing glistening meat into his mouth, smearing it around his lips. ‘Eat it!’

  ‘Stop!’ Cullen rushed forward, branding his baton like a club.

  She dropped the packet of meat onto the floor and a blade flashed in her other hand. A butcher’s knife, pressed against Turnbull’s throat.

  ‘Jenny Black?’

  She nodded.

  Cullen held up his hands, but didn’t drop the baton. ‘Just play this cool, okay? Nobody has to die here.’

  Her eyes darted around the room. She was trapped and she knew it. Cullen followed her gaze, needing to know if there was anything that might spook her. No sign of Hunter. Good.

  ‘Let him go then we can have a nice chat instead. Okay?’

  She grabbed Turnbull’s hair with her free hand and pulled his head back. God knows what she’d done to him, but he was out of it. Blood poured down his face, covering his eyes. ‘You know what he did to me?’

  ‘Let’s talk about it elsewhere, Jenny. Okay?’

  ‘He killed my daughter!’

  ‘Jenny, it’s okay. Just let him go and this will all be fine.’

  ‘How can it be fine? He poisoned the meat I fed to Kayleigh. She died because of him.’

  ‘If he did it, we’ll—’

  ‘HE DID IT!’

  ‘Okay, but let’s do this sensibly.’

  Her free hand lashed out and something slopped against Cullen’s cheek, then slid down and splatted off the floor. Looked like raw pork.

  ‘You feed similar stuff to his son?’

  ‘I wanted this animal to see what it was like to lose a child. I wish he could’ve seen the lights go out behind his eyes, like I did with Kayleigh.’

  ‘Put the knife down and it’ll all be—’

  ‘No!’ She pulled the knife back and drove the blade towards Turnbull’s throat.

  Another flash of steel and a loud clatter.

  Then sixteen stone of monster flew past Cullen. Hunter took her down, grabbing her throat and driving her hard against the wall.

  Cullen rushed into action. He grabbed Turnbull and pulled him up onto the seat, then opened his lips wide and clawed at the meat. It was lodged into his throat. God knows if he’d swallowed any. Cullen clawed at it, pulling the meat out.

  But Turnbull wasn’t breathing.

  He reached into his pocket for his phone and hit dial.

  23

  BAIN

  Simon Mowat won’t even look at us. Prize chump, this boy. He’s tracing a knot on the tabletop with his fingernails. One’s really long, like he bumps coke with it. ‘I need to see my mother.’ Got to take pity on the boy.

  I look over at Elvis but he’s perplexed. Only way to describe it. ‘She’s in great care.’ I hold the boy’s gaze, but those are dead eyes. ‘DC Caldwell is one of my finest officers.’

  ‘I don’t care. It needs to be me there. I need to make sure she takes her meds.’

  Sounds like the boy’s missed a dose of his own. I chuck the CCTV still on the table. ‘Son, we know what you were up to at the shop. Some really shady business.’

  ‘I bought six cans of energy drink.’ Christ and it looks like he’s tanned the lot of them. Is that what I look like when I do the same? Fuck. �
��That’s not a crime!’

  ‘No, you tried to mis-price a steak. It’s fraud.’

  ‘You’ve got no proof.’

  ‘It’s all on CCTV.’ I tap the victim on the page. Time was, I’d have been in the PM to see Deeley cut him up, but now it’s fuckin’ Sundance’s job, isn’t it? ‘This boy was murdered.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘I didn’t do it!’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing. I was buying a steak for my mother. She needs lots of iron and protein because of her condition. Usually I give her poached eggs, but she’s getting fed up of them.’

  ‘You speak to this boy?’

  ‘Just to ask when they’re reducing stuff.’

  ‘So you can thieve another sirloin?’

  ‘No!’

  I lean over to the mic and check my watch. ‘Interview paused at eighteen oh seven.’ I stay standing. ‘We’re away for a cup of coffee. You might want to think about talking here because, as I see it, you’re up to your oxters in this.’

  But he’s back to tracing his imaginary faces on the desk.

  ‘Come on.’ I open the door for Elvis, then follow him out. ‘For fuckin’ crying out loud.’

  ‘You can’t think he’s killed the lad over some reduced steak?’

  ‘I’ve seen dafter things.’

  I’m fucked here. Thought this was our boy, but he’s just a poor sap with a sick mother. Join the fuckin’ club. Sundance and Crystal will be all over us for this. My moby has missed calls from the pair of them. Shite almighty indeed.

  ‘Right, let’s go back to first principles.’ I stare at the CCTV still of that Simon Mowat boy arguing with Philip Turnbull, our victim.

  ‘Bri, no matter how desperate you are to prove that he’s our killer, if he isn’t, he just isn’t.’

  Elvis has a point but I’m not giving him the satisfaction.

  So I stare at the image again. The boy’s standing there, and it’s like he clocks Turnbull approaching, which is what makes him fuck off in a few frames time. Got a basket with some tins of drink in them, fine, but… ‘What’s he holding in his other hand?’

  Elvis takes the sheet and squints at it. ‘No idea.’ And he’s off, charging down the corridor, then into the meeting room he’s block booked all day.

  Have to fuckin’ jog to catch him. ‘What’s up?’

  But Elvis is in the fuckin’ zone, doing that weird focus thing. Legs kinked around the legs of the chair, fingers battering the keyboard. Then he looks up at us with wide eyes. ‘Check this out.’

  I can’t see fuck all, just the light shining off his screen. I crouch down and, aha, he’s playing the CCTV of the supermarket. Pretty much paused on the frame we’d printed, maybe a few seconds later.

  ‘Bri, it looks like a bag.’

  ‘A bag?’

  ‘A tote bag.’ He zooms in and blows up a pixelly mess. ‘Says Bloody Scotland 2019.’

  ‘What the fuck is that?’

  ‘A crime writing festival.’

  ‘I see. And why’s that good for us?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ The idiot’s blushing, but he’s back in the zone, working that laptop like my old man in the factory he worked in for his whole puff. ‘Right, what the fuck is that?’ He leans back and lets us at the screen again.

  The boy, Simon fuckin’ Mowat, is up to some shady shite, that’s for sure.

  24

  CULLEN

  Alistair Reynolds still looked like he needed a babysitter—all smooth skin, baby-blue eyes and perfectly weighted dark hair—and yet he was defending Jenny Black. Not that he was actively doing much, just sitting there and scribbling on a notepad with a cracked biro. ‘Is Mr Turnbull going to live?’ He didn’t look up.

  ‘We don’t know yet.’ Cullen shrugged. ‘He’s at the hospital just now.’

  Jenny Black sat there, arms folded. She wore a T-shirt like she was actually going to Spain, and not staying in grim, dark Gilmerton. Hard to believe she was Adam Searle’s wife and not his daughter, but her record showed she was actually older than him. ‘I see.’

  ‘That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give us?’

  ‘You found me. You must know what that vermin did to me and my family.’

  ‘Your husband told us quite a lot of things.’ Cullen narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You might want to thank him, though, as he’s done a fantastic job of covering for you. Despite speaking to us on several occasions, he didn’t think to tell us about your daughter.’

  That just bounced off her. She’d internalised the trauma so much that the mention of it didn’t affect her. It just motivated her to murder.

  ‘If you’ve got it all from Adam, why are you even talking to me?’

  ‘You’ve got a right to a fair trial.’

  ‘Doesn’t feel very fair if he can just kill my daughter and get away with it.’

  ‘How about you share the proof with us?’

  ‘What proof?’

  ‘That he was responsible for the poisoning that killed your daughter.’

  She looked away, eyes narrowing.

  ‘If you’ve got evidence that Mr Turnbull was behind the poisoning, then now’s the time to share it.’

  She pounded her fists off the table. The din echoed round the room, but nobody said anything. She rubbed at her wrists, bruised from where Hunter’s baton had disarmed her.

  ‘I want to listen to your side of this, Ms Black. Please.’

  She shook her head. ‘After we lost Kayleigh, I was a complete mess. Everything was black. It was all ruined. And then… I got therapy. Started to see the light. But I just couldn’t speak to Adam and we were so far apart, and it was so raw being in that flat. So I moved out of our old home. And I started to pull everything together. Went back to work.’

  ‘Was that when you met Philip Turnbull?’

  ‘Right.’ She leaned back, eyes shut. ‘I blame him.’

  ‘You think Philip was involved?’

  ‘I never had any proof, but of course I knew. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Phil was put up to it by his father. His business was collapsing due to the aggressive price war going on. Ashworth’s were trying to force local businesses to close. Happens a lot.’

  ‘Turned around since then.’

  ‘Exactly. Richard Turnbull was getting his son to poison the meat when he was alone in the store to put out the bread in the morning.’

  ‘Your husband tell you this?’

  ‘Might as well have.’

  ‘Did Phil?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘We know that you two were an item.’

  ‘Right.’ She sighed. ‘This is before I realised. One day, he came in to the office at work, trying to change his director of studies. I recognised him from the store, got chatting to him. Went for a drink, and one thing led to another.’

  ‘You went to his place.’

  ‘A couple of times. Flat on World’s End Close. Didn’t want to take him to mine because, well. The neighbours. I was on the rebound from what happened with Adam, but I ruined my career. That little shit stole my key, broke into the office and photocopied the exam paper. And he was stupid enough to get caught.’

  Cullen realised it all came down to keys. ‘And you stole the cleaner’s key?’

  ‘Not exactly difficult. He was so baked, I just walked in there while he watched some stupid video on YouTube. Thought I was a ghost.’

  ‘How did you get hold of my locker key?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘You’ve not got a friendly cop in here?’

  ‘No. Listen, I killed Philip because his father is responsible for my daughter’s death. I killed his son and now he’s going to die. Good riddance.’

  ‘Mr Turnbull is going to pull through.’

  She deflated. All the fire in her eyes snuffed out in an instant.

 
25

  BAIN

  What in the name of side-saddle fucknuttery has happened here?

  Sundance and Crystal are standing by the window, chatting under their breaths about something or other. Behind them, a nurse is checking out Turnbull senior’s drip. Crystal looks fucking raging though. At quite what, I couldn’t possibly even begin to wonder.

  Cough, bollocks.

  Shite, did that out loud. Pair of them are now looking at us.

  Sundance slips inside the room, but Crystal comes over to us. ‘Brian, what are you doing here?’

  I lean against the wall and fold my arms, trying to act all casual. ‘Catching up with you pair.’

  Methven stares hard right at us. Snide prick. ‘I’ve been calling you.’

  I get out my mobile. ‘Beauty of these bad boys is they tell who who’s been calling you.’

  ‘And yet you didn’t return the call?’

  ‘Been busy.’

  ‘Do you know anything about the meat?’

  ‘The meat that Anderson lost?’

  ‘That. It turned up in DI Cullen’s locker.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me! Why would I take it?’

  ‘You have a well-documented axe to grind with DI Cullen.’

  ‘Used to, maybe. I’m a changed man, Col. Can see he’s going to be a good DI. Harsh that you’re roasting him for losing the meat in the first place, mind.’

  ‘We were lucky to obtain a confession from the perpetrator.’ Crystal points through the glass to where Richard Turnbull is being tended to. ‘And we were incredibly lucky he didn’t lose his life.’

  ‘Nah, Col. That’s not lucky, that’s good policing. Solid work.’

  He looks at us like I’m up to something. Maybe I am, but I’m the fuckin’ master here. He’s just a useless fanny who thinks he’s the Boy.

  Sundance comes back out. ‘They think they’ve got all the meat out of his guts.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Pork.’

  ‘Not the meat, the fuckin’ poison!’

  ‘Oh, strychnine.’

  ‘How the fuck does someone get hold of that?’

  Crystal’s doing that fuckin’ annoying thing where he shuts his eyes and makes the lids flutter. ‘In this day and age, you can get anything you want from anywhere, anytime you want.’