by Ed James
‘Oh, Scott, you’re like an open book, mate.’ Alan folded his arm. ‘You tracked down Isobel’s lover?’
‘Her lover?’
‘Aye. Young-ish guy, built like a tank. No, three tanks stuck end-to-end. He’s massive. No idea who he is, mind.’
‘Shame.’
‘Scott, I’m giving you solid info here. Least you could do is return the favour.’
‘No way.’
Alan gave him a hard look, then glanced over at Rich. ‘That’s disappointing.’
‘I’m not disappointed.’ Cullen felt his mobile thrum in his pocket. He checked it. A text from Methven:
At Lauder. Get over here now.
He looked round, ready to attack Alan again, but the Mondeo was already driving off, heading south towards Galashiels. Looked like they were following Shepherd and Bain. No doubt there would be a story in the morning’s paper about two of Police Scotland’s finest burning some clothes in the Borders…
Lauder nick was a strange place, a modern-ish building stuck next to a much more recent housing development on the town’s southern tip. Well, what used to be it, as it stretched another half a mile south on the A68.
Cullen got out of his car onto the street. A blast of horn came from the parking bay a few over.
Methven’s Range Rover tore into the world’s worst parallel park.
Cullen’s grin was torn off his face when he saw who was in the passenger seat.
DI Ally Davenport, his old boss. Great. ‘Scott, Scott, Scott.’ He thrust out a fist, ready to be bumped. ‘How the devil are you, my man?’
‘Okay, Ally. Okay.’
‘Long time, no see.’
Cullen shrugged. ‘Been busy.’
‘Last I saw you, Scott, you were a green-around-the-gills Acting DC. Now look at you. Methven’s little prince.’
‘Almost ten years, Ally. Lot can happen in that time.’
‘Sure can. And now you’re a peer. Very, very strange.’ Davenport looked back the way, but Methven was still in his car, fussing over his phone. ‘Spoken to Luke Shepherd, and he says you know this Big Rob guy?’
‘You do too, Ally. That case in Rock Hard Gym.’
‘Christ. That takes me back. Bloody hell. That was him?’
‘No, he just happened to be there at the time.’
‘Well, you should be leading the interview, Scott, if you’ve already built the rapport.’
‘Craig knows him too.’
‘Craig Hunter? Christ… He still around?’
‘Why wouldn’t he be?’
‘No reason.’
‘Ally, I’ll have a team meeting to discuss the interview strategy once Hunter and Bain—’
‘Bain?’ Davenport’s mouth hung open. ‘Thought he was in Glasgow?’
‘That was years ago. He’s a DC now.’
‘Well, a scumbag like that still being a cop really gets my goat. Only time I dealt with him, he was out of control. You worked for him, didn’t you? How could you cope with that?’
Cullen wanted to defend Bain, to say that he wasn’t as bad as all that. But the truth was, he was as bad as all that, and worse. And it wasn’t like he had some redeeming qualities, he’d just managed to solve a few cases recently. Either blind luck or just experience. And Cullen had chucked away more than one opportunity to bin him.
No, Cullen needed a different tack. ‘Sometimes people learn because of, sometimes people learn in spite of… You’re jealous that I chose him over you, aren’t you?’
‘Aye, good one.’ Davenport laughed. ‘Any idea where Shepherd is?’
‘Had a slight wardrobe malfunction.’
‘Sounds like something I really don’t want to know.’ Davenport folded his arms. ‘Scott, whatever. Craig can interview Rob, but I’d like it to be under Shepherd’s supervision. Okay?’
Cullen still hated feeling subordinate to him. He might have a longer record, but they were the same grade. ‘That was my plan all along.’
12
Christ, it still stinks of shite in here.
The root of all the ming is this Rob Woodhead boy. It’s like when I went to one of my boy’s parents’ nights when he was in primary and you see all these tiny wee chairs. He’s like that, but these are adult chairs.
I remember him from that case a few years back, where Cullen thought he was a vigilante. Nonsense, of course. No way this boy could hurt anything, he’s way too big and slow. I mean, sure, if he connects you’re gonna know all about it, but that’s a very big if.
Must be steroids. Meaning his wanger must be miniscule. Bless him.
Hunter’s a big lad too, but nothing on the scale of him. ‘So why were you down in that dungeon?’
Rob laughs. ‘A dungeon, eh? Oh you cheeky so-and-so. Craig, mate. It’s a complex matter.’
‘And you’re a complex man, Rob. How about you try and tell me how it got so complicated?’
‘It’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?’
‘Sharing is caring, Rob. Sure you’ve got a tattoo to that effect.’
‘Aye.’ He laughs at Hunter’s patter. ‘On my thigh. Good memory.’
‘Hard to scratch it off my cerebellum, isn’t it?’ Hunter splays his paws on the table. Bloody things are covered in scar tissue around the joints. Christ knows what he’s been up to.
God, this is getting us nowhere.
Hunter’s supposed to have this rapport with the lad. Even sat in here with the big lump while I drove that clown to Gala Tesco’s and bought him a new suit. Picked the most stupid one they had, of course. Beige. I mean, Shepherd looks like he’s on safari now. But whatever Hunter thinks he’s got with this boy, he clearly hasn’t. There’s rapport and there’s talking shite to a fanny in the gym.
Sod it.
I lean over the table. ‘Here, Rob. Must be pretty emasculating for you.’
‘What must?’
‘Being tied up like that.’
‘Don’t know what you mean.’
‘Well, I assume this is some kink you’ve got? Get tied up and left for hours. Cheeky wee bit of high jinks, right? Problem is, you couldn’t free yourself.’
‘Listen, I’m thankful you guys arrived when you did.’
‘Thankful, eh?’ I sit there, nodding. ‘Right. So, I’m going to put my cards on the table, Rob. You’re a straight-talking guy. I’m the same. Way I see it, you’re into some kinky stuff with Isobel. I’m not judging you. Consenting adults and all that. Trouble is, Isobel’s missing.’
He’s frowning at us. ‘What?’
‘Didn’t turn up at her work today. Further complicated by the paper running a story about her this morning.’
Boy looks away and scratches his Desperate Dan chin. ‘She knew they were onto her a few weeks ago.’
‘And it didn’t stop her?’
‘Nope. She figured she was damned anyway, so…’ Rob shrugs. ‘Just got on with it.’
‘Now.’ I hold up a finger. ‘Most people would start to think she’d run away from all her trouble and strife.’
‘Aye?’
‘Thing is, Rob.’ I pretend to tug at something round my neck. ‘The manacles you were tied up with, they were locked.’
Boy knows he’s gubbed here. Can’t make eye contact. ‘Right.’
‘Now’s the time, son. You talk, we listen.’
He looks right at us. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘When was the last time you saw Isobel?’
He gives the deepest sigh in the world. ‘I haven’t seen her since she tied me up on Friday night.’
‘So three days ago?’
‘Three days?’
‘Son, it’s Monday lunchtime.’
‘Christ. I could’ve died in that cage! Holy fuck!’ He’s shaking his head. ‘This was her game, okay? Playing me, edging me, building up the teasing until I can’t handle it any more, then the sex would be like two wild animals.’
‘Only you were covered in your own shite.’
‘Aye. Th
at’s not her thing. She’d have hosed me down, good and proper.’
‘So where was she going when she tied you up?’
Rob stares at the ceiling. Looking at me and Hunter must seem like the worst thing ever. Seeing that shame and anger and fear in his eyes. ‘You just told me you found her purse.’
‘Need to hear it from you.’
‘She was going to Gore Glen.’
‘Not for a walk, I presume?’
‘No, it was … She’d told me all about it. She was going to what she called a gathering. You’d call it dogging. She was going to watch a cleaner get her back doors smashed in by a builder and a bus driver in the woods, then she was going to come back and let me go.’
‘That turn you on?’
‘A bit.’ He shakes his head again, like he’s denying it even to himself. ‘Maybe more than a bit.’
‘So you weren’t at Gore Glen?’
‘No, she didn’t let me go.’
‘This a long-term thing between you?’
‘It’s not love, if that’s what you mean.’
‘So you’re just letting her put you in a cage?’
‘I’m a filthy animal. Why are you interested?’
‘Because Isobel’s dead.’
Big Rob nods. Guy like that, emotions are hard to feel, let alone process. Everything is handled by a quip or a barb or a joke. Except for the rage he’d get from those ’roids. Lucky Hunter’s here with all his Bruce Lee stuff.
But Big Rob clearly does feel it, right in his heart. And I would know, I’m exactly the same. Deep down, the pain is so raw you just don’t know what to do with it.
He looks right at us through damp eyes. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Friday night.’
‘Huh. That explains it.’
And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he just doesn’t care. Maybe he’s a sociopath who can only feel emotions when someone shoves him in a cage and treats him like a dog.
‘You didn’t kill her, did you?’
‘I was in a cage!’
‘We found you in a cage on Monday. We have no way of establishing whether you were in that cage on Friday night, or you just locked yourself away ten minutes before we found you.’
‘What about the key?’
‘Aye, they never make more than one for these things, do they?’
‘I was covered in my own shit!’
I shake my head at the boy, show him I’m denying him his truth. ‘Let’s just go with you not killing her. Can you think of anyone who might have?’
‘Nope.’
‘What about this bus driver or builder up at the glen?’
‘They don’t know who she is.’
‘Oh?’
‘She wears a mask there. Even naked.’
‘Powerful woman like that. Got to make you wonder what she’d see in a boy like you.’
‘It’s because I’m the opposite of her ex-husband. He’s a needledick top.’
‘And you’re a bottom?’
Big Rob shrugs.
‘And you’re not a needledick, eh?’
‘That’s my business.’
I end the recording, then sit back and fold my arms. ‘Know this boy, cock like a stallion. Should see it, man.’
Rob’s lips twist up. Managed to get through to him now. He is actually disgusted by this chat.
But not as much as Hunter. Arsehole grabs my arm and Christ it hurts. ‘Stop.’ His whisper is a hiss, but he lets go and leans over the table and restarts the recording. ‘Rob, remember back in the day, when me and Scotty used to work out with you at that gym?’
‘Rock Hard. Right?’
‘Right. Not there any more. You go to Ultraman now?’
‘Well, I did. Lockdown’s buggered it all up. Got a bar at home and some kick-ass weights. Saves me a packet. Why you asking?’
‘Well, you weren’t exactly backwards in coming forwards, were you? Thought you were definitely a giver.’
‘Ach, that’s all stories for the locker room, Craig. I had a kink. And it’s grown, big style.’
‘Being tied up?’
‘And then some. See, when I work out or I’m out cutting trees.’ Boy looks right at us. ‘I’m a tree surgeon.’ Then back at Hunter. ‘I’m doing it all, working away. And I have this need to be taken care of. Not so much looked after as absolutely dominated.’
‘And that’s Isobel?’
‘Right.’
I pick up my tea ready for a sip. ‘How did you meet her?’
‘Moved to Stow a year back, trying to get closer to nature, you know? Hills here are great for walking, and the mountain biking trails? Amazing. Anyway, one day I’m picking my boy up from school.’
Almost spray my tea over the boy. ‘You’ve got a kid?’
‘Four of them. My youngest two aren’t even at primary. Oldest is at university.’
Well bugger me with a tree trunk. This boy has lived a life. ‘Are you married?’
‘Not married married, but I live with someone. Sure.’
‘She’s not going to be worried about your whereabouts?’
‘We have an understanding. She went away to Corfu last November with the girls, got absolutely smashed in by these rugby lads.’ He snarls. ‘Anyway, I was going to pick up my boy from school, and I take the long way round. Strap on two twenty-eight kilo kettlebells and walk up the hills. Best way to burn fat and lose hydration. Supposed to be doing some photos for a magazine next week.’
‘A porno?’
He scowls at us. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter. No, it’s called Bold and Beautiful.’
‘Which are you?’
‘Both. So I’m running up the hill out of the village on the Earlston road, then I clear the last houses, go round the bend and I see a car’s broken down. Foxy lady like that, couldn’t help myself. I used to work as a mechanic, so I got her back up and running.’
‘And you say you’re a tree surgeon now?’
‘Aye. So she thanked me by taking me out for a meal in Melrose. At a hotel. Where she’d booked a room upstairs too. It wasn’t an Indian, but things ended up getting pretty spicy.’
‘Quite like being treated like that?’
‘Way of the world now, my friend. Equality has a lot of opportunities for boys like me.’
‘And this became a thing, then?’
‘Oh, aye. Isobel’s ex wasn’t really into getting tied up and all that. And she liked to take charge. And she preferred a bigger man. I’m so strong that I could carry her while we… While we made love. She loved it.’
‘This is all very entertaining, son, and I can see there’s a deep connection there. But did she ever talk about her job?’
‘Strictly verboten.’
But I’m clutching at straws here. Plastic ones too, not organic natural ones. This boy might just be her Dick On Legs, just some vessel for her depravations, and he’s not the sharpest tool in the box, either, so I’ll clutch those straws and see if there’s any long ones left. ‘You got any idea who might want her dead?’
‘Search me.’
Just what this filthy pervert wants, isn’t it? My stubby wee fingers all over him. ‘Look, I’ll be honest with you here, son. We’re struggling a bit. Last we know of Isobel is she might’ve been at this dogging thing at Gore Glen. You ever go to one?’
‘Nope.’
‘She ever talk about the people who did?’
‘No.’
‘What about the bus driver, the cleaner—’
‘They’re all made up. Listen, this one time, Isobel made me have a foursome with this freaky couple at their house in Gorebridge.’
13
Cullen carried his coffee cup and led Buxton down the short corridor in Gorebridge police station. The pale walls were splashed with tea and coffee stains. Somehow. And the place still had that strange cheesy smell, like someone had caught athlete’s foot years ago and passed it on to all their colleagues. ‘You let Big Rob go?’
‘Yeah.’ Buxton was
biting down on his bottom lip with those big falsers of his. ‘His work van was searched but we found nothing.’
A uniform guarded the interview room, leaning against the door jamb, checking his phone. He looked over at Cullen with bloodshot eyes. ‘He’s ready for you, sir.’
‘Perfect, thanks.’ But Cullen stayed in the corridor, sipping from his mug. Somehow the coffee from the filter machine here tasted really good, even with powdered milk. ‘I feel like a bit of an idiot.’
Buxton grinned at him. ‘Not like you to admit that.’
‘No.’ Cullen had to look away. Buxton’s false teeth were starting to unsettle him. ‘These were the same case. Should’ve seen it earlier.’
‘Wise man once taught me that it’s better to assume they’re separate than the alternative.’ Buxton slurped tea through his teeth, splashing some on the carpet tiles. ‘Unpicking connections that weren’t there is much harder than making them.’
‘This wise man sounds like a good cop.’
‘Nah, he’s a dickhead.’ Buxton laughed. ‘It was Bain.’
‘Oh God.’
‘Why is he still around, Scott?’
‘Si, is this you trying to explain what he’s done this time?’
‘Nah, it’s… Never mind.’
Cullen knew there was something. And the more Buxton didn’t seem to want to share it, the more he wanted to dig. ‘Si, what is it?’
‘Seriously, it’s fine.’
Cullen also knew when to leave it like that. But he couldn’t help himself. ‘What’s he done?’
‘Joking about…’ Buxton looked down at his groin ‘… my cock.’
‘Where does he get off? Always laughing at monster ones in post mortems.’
Buxton was blushing.
Cullen decided he’d pushed it far enough. ‘How are you getting on with Shepherd?’
‘He’s annoying but good. Got Bain in his little box. Lets him make enough of his little quips to feel useful and important, but not enough that he’s got a formal complaint yet.’
‘Look, Si, I won’t pry, but you can always talk to me when you’re ready.’
Buxton fidgeted with his teeth. ‘Shepherd was asking about you.’
That made Cullen tingle in a place he didn’t like tingling. ‘What kind of thing?’