by Ed James
‘Keep at it.’
‘Where’s it sit in the priority list? Bain had it top.’
Cullen sucked in a deep breath. ‘Put it at the bottom, okay?’
‘You need Methven to sign off on this.’
‘Just do it. Seriously.’
‘Your grave, son.’
‘What about the sex room?’ Cullen smirked. ‘Now you’ve escaped, of course.’
‘Get to fuck.’ Anderson shut his eyes and chuckled. Then cleared his throat. ‘I did a fair amount of work on that before Bain told me to refocus.’
‘And?’
‘Lots of DNA traces to process.’ Anderson reached into a desk drawer, producing a magazine, which flopped open at a page. ‘You see this?’
Cullen snatched it off him. A dark room filled with seats, splashes of purples and light blues. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s a black light test in a San Francisco porn cinema.’
Cullen shut his eyes, his stomach lurching. ‘This is horrific.’
‘Well, you saw what I found at the house. It’s on that scale. Bottom end, mind, but there’s a fuckton of jizz in that place.’
Cullen dropped the magazine on the desk. ‘You’re saying a lot of people have used the room?’
‘Aye.’
‘So, an orgy?’
‘Stands to reason he’d have one there. It’s that or your pal Van de Merwe was at it every night. Boy only took over the place a year and a half ago. That’s a ton of spu—’
‘I get it.’ Cullen got up. ‘Hurry, please. And check reprioritisation with me first, okay?’
‘You’re the boss.’
* * *
Methven dumped his keys on the desk, at least twenty hanging off a silver M stamped with “Iron Man Triathlete”. ‘Thanks for the update, Sergeant. I want her found.’
‘We’re trying, sir. ADC Buxton’s stepped it up.’ Cullen couldn’t take his eyes off the keys. ‘What’ve you been doing?’
‘Bain spoke to that journalist. Your ex-flatmate.’ Methven leaned against the wall, arms folded. ‘He’s cleared him of spying on an active police investigation.’ He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and rattled his keys. ‘We don’t want any more headlines like this morning.’
‘And I’ve said I’m not stupid enough to leak leads to him.’
‘Is there anything else from your team?’
‘We’re struggling with the numbers we’ve got, sir.’
‘You still need more resource?’
‘Stuart Murray’s coming back from his holiday tomorrow. Supporting the rape unit’s a real bottleneck. We didn’t have any big cases when they asked for assistance. Now, we’re swamped.’
Methven frowned. ‘Could we give her ADC Buxton?’
‘We’d have to explain to Sergeant Mullen why we’ve shunted one of his seconded resources onto another investigation.’
‘True.’
‘We could give her DC Jain.’
‘She’s your most senior DC, Sergeant.’
‘Murray’s got more experience. Besides, she’s demonstrated a competency for DS activities. Let her flourish.’
‘Are you suggesting we should make her an Acting DS?’
‘I’m suggesting you second her and see how she gets on.’
‘This is nothing to do with you not getting on with her, is it?’
‘She’ll do a better job on that case than this one, sir. That’s all.’
* * *
Jain crossed her legs, arms folded, eyes darting around the canteen. ‘Is being in Bollocking Corner a bad sign?’
‘We’re here because the meeting rooms are all busy.’ Cullen glanced over at the counter, the early birds of the back shift queuing for all-day breakfasts. The salad bar was empty. ‘I’ve got some good news for you.’
‘Oh aye?’
‘You’re seconded to Sharon’s team.’
‘The rape unit?’ Her forehead twitched. ‘You want rid of me?’
‘It’s nothing to do with that.’
‘Is this an Acting DS position?’
‘No, but if you play your cards right…’ Sweat trickled down Cullen’s back. ‘We deemed it inappropriate to have me support Sharon given our relationship status.’
‘You’ve been doing this all month, though. It’s not like you just started seeing each other.’ She leaned forward. ‘You don’t rate me, do you?’
‘I think you’re a good officer.’
‘Nothing to do with you telling Sharon I’m being a nightmare?’
He clenched his fists. ‘That’s one of your more positive traits, Chantal.’
‘Right. Bullshit.’
‘Don’t talk to me like that. You need to remember I’m your line manager, not your mate down the pub.’
‘After the way you spoke to Bain over the last few years?’
‘Do as I say, not as I do.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ve been losing time supporting a case not on the MIT books.’
‘Jesus, you’re sounding more and more like Crystal.’
‘Makes an improvement on sounding like Bain.’ Cullen fluffed up his shirt, now soaked through. ‘Come on, this is good for you. These task forces are high priority just now. If you do a good job here, well…’
‘Dangling a carrot, eh? Remember how much of a bitch you were about that, Scott?’
‘Chantal…’
‘Wouldn’t stop moaning about it. All the shite me and Angela had to put up with.’ She made hand puppets and screwed up her face. ‘All that, “I passed my sergeant’s exams and caught a million serial killers and they didn’t promote me.” Fuck sake, Scott, it was boring. And annoying.’
Cullen nibbled his lip, drawing blood. ‘Look, this is a development opportunity.’
‘Piss off. This is me doing your dirty work while you take the glory on this case.’
‘Stuart Murray’s back tomorrow morning. Want me to give it to him?’
Jain scraped the chair across the lino and got to her feet. ‘I’ll give Sharon a call, okay?’
Twenty-Three
‘And here’s yours, sir.’
‘Thanks.’ Cullen sucked in the smell of the spicy meat of his pizza, trying to drown out the drone of the restaurant. ‘Looks good.’
Sharon sighed at her plate and smiled at the waiter, eyes cold. ‘I ordered the chicken Caesar salad without the dressing.’
The waiter frowned. Then nodded. ‘Why, of course.’ He whisked her plate away.
‘I hate it when that happens.’ Sharon took a sip of wine. ‘Worse if they turn up with non-decaf coffee, I suppose.’
‘I don’t get the point in decaf coffee.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ Sharon pushed the wine glass across the table’s pale wood. ‘Don’t wait for me.’
‘You sure?’
‘Go for it.’
Cullen sliced into the edge of the pizza, snaring two pepperoni slices and some onion. He bit into it. ‘This is good.’
Sharon stared at a point between them. ‘I’m glad.’
His fork hovered in the air. ‘Do you want some?’
She focused on him. ‘No, I’m fine.’
‘What’s up?’
‘Just distracted by my case, I suppose.’
‘You get anywhere with our friend Mr Graham?’ Cullen took another bite.
‘Not as such. His hospital story checks out.’
Cullen winced. ‘Poor guy.’
‘Doctor couldn’t say whether he’d done it to himself or not. Definitely had Rohypnol in his system.’
‘Jesus Christ. You’ve still got his wife’s alibis for the other assaults, though, yeah?’
‘Aye.’ She smiled over Cullen’s left shoulder.
The waiter presented her replacement salad.
‘Thanks.’ She speared a chunk of chicken and ate it, chewing slowly. ‘He’s in the clear on the other ones. I’ve got two DCs looking into his movements over the last week and interviewing the bar staff again.’
>
‘Reckon you’ll get anything?’
‘We’ll see.’
‘You could thank me for giving you Chantal, you know.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
‘Seriously? I gave you my best officer and you say “whatever”?’
‘You’ve given me her because she’s a pain in the hoop. I’ve got to manage her.’
‘At least she’s your mate.’
‘Never manage friends. Worst time in my career was when you worked for me.’
‘You reported to Bain, though.’
She laughed. ‘True.’
He folded up a wedge of pizza and took a bite, swallowing it down with some lemonade. ‘What’s happening to us?’
‘I don’t know, Scott. Has something happened?’
‘I’m struggling with all this.’ Cullen dropped his cutlery. ‘You’re just so cold these days.’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘Deny it.’
‘What about the other night? When you came back from work?’
‘That’s because I guilted you into it.’
‘You honestly believe that?’
‘It’s the truth. I can count on one hand how many times we’ve had sex this year.’
‘So it’s having sex now, is it?’ She ate a clump of lettuce. ‘At lunchtime, it was making love.’
‘That’s almost three years we’ve been together. I’m wondering if we’ve run out of track.’
‘I don’t know. Have we?’
‘Do you still love me?’
‘Of course I—’
‘I mean it, Sharon. Don’t just say you do, okay? At least give me that.’
‘I still love you, Scott.’ She stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken, shutting her eyes as she exhaled through her nostrils. ‘It’s just … hard.’
‘What is?’
‘I thought you’d say “not my cock” there.’
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ He sipped some more lemonade, the ice cube tinkling in the glass. ‘I want to help. Whatever it is. However you feel. You’re not alone.’
She took a big dent out of her wine. ‘Last year, I went to the—’
Her phone rang. The Velvet Underground, Sweet Jane.
‘Sorry.’ She picked it up and answered. ‘DI McNeill.’ Stared across the restaurant.
Cullen ate a wedge of pizza in one go.
What the hell was happening to them? She couldn’t even talk to him.
Sharon pushed her plate away and stood, chucking her mobile in her purse. ‘There’s been another rape.’
* * *
Cullen drove on, rumbling over the cobbles on the Leith Shore, coming to a halt outside Fisher’s. A rounded turret climbed four floors out of the ground-floor restaurant. The car sucked in the aroma of fish frying in butter and garlic. ‘It’s up there?’
‘So she said.’ Sharon glanced over at him and hiccuped. ‘Shouldn’t have drunk that wine.’
‘You were off duty.’
‘And now I’m not.’ She let the seatbelt ride up and dug out her phone. ‘Can’t see her anywhere.’
The light had a thundery feel to it, sunlight bleaching the old Malmaison building, the next-door yuppie flats set in a deep gloom.
‘Must cost a pretty packet.’ He looked over as Sharon stuffed the phone in her purse. ‘Anything?’
She stumbled out of the car. ‘Flat six.’
Cullen followed her across to the stairwell door, cream frame surrounding the black-painted wood. He hit the buzzer marked six. C. Egan. Gazed at the tables outside the pub. A couple near them tucked into posh burgers, foaming pints of Peroni making him salivate.
‘Up you come.’
Cullen let Sharon go up first.
The flat door hung open. Jain came out into the stairwell, a grim expression on her face as she pulled the door to. ‘Wish I was still on Scott’s case, Shaz. This is brutal.’
‘Nobody said it was going to be pretty.’ Sharon covered her mouth with her fist and yawned. ‘What’ve we got?’
‘Guy says he was date raped.’ Jain thumbed into the flat. ‘Come on.’
Cullen waited by the living room door near the kitchen area, looking like it was the only room in the flat. Expensive stereo, wall-mounted flatscreen, Apple laptop. The bedsit for the twenty-first century.
Jain sat on the edge of the sofa by the cooker. ‘Callum, we’re going to need you to go through your statement again. Is that okay?’
Egan sat on the four-poster bed, kneading his temples. A long fringe swept across his forehead. Blue gingham shirt, the top four buttons open. Navy jeans and dark sandals. His hands shook as he nodded. ‘That’s fine.’
‘You believe you were raped?’
Egan took his fingers off his skin. ‘Last Friday.’
‘Where were you?’
‘I was out for a drink after work. Guy I sit next to. Turned into a pretty heavy night and we ended up in the Liquid Lounge on George Street.’
Jain exchanged a look with Sharon. ‘What happened?’
‘Someone spiked my drink. I don’t remember anything after a Jägerbomb. That’s usually the sign, right?’
‘What happened after?’
‘Someone brought me back here and raped me.’
‘You didn’t consent?’
‘Look, the state I was in, there’s no way I could’ve.’ Egan nibbled at a fingernail. ‘I’m in a relationship. My boyfriend’s in Singapore on business.’
Sharon glanced at Cullen, a frown on her face. ‘You’re homosexual?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Were you flirting with any men in the club?’
‘No way. I’m not the type to have no-strings sex while he’s away.’
‘When did you realise you’d been raped?’
‘That morning. I know what it feels like to have an injury … there.’ Egan crossed his arms. ‘I went to A & E.’
‘You didn’t report rape?’
‘I was embarrassed enough.’
‘So why report it now?’
He waved over at his laptop. ‘I was looking at my Feedly and saw a news story.’
Cullen frowned. ‘What’s Fee—’
Sharon raised a hand. ‘You realised you fit the pattern?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Okay.’ Sharon led out into the corridor, Cullen and Jain following. ‘What do you think, Scott?’
‘Time for another alibi from Kyle Graham.’
‘Agreed. Chantal?’
‘I’m with Scott on that. We should check with the hospital.’
‘Taxis.’ Cullen sniffed. ‘Someone’s brought him here. I’d find out if it was in a cab.’ Cullen glanced back at Egan, now tapping on his iPhone. ‘I think you need to have another word with the Procurator Fiscal about shutting that place down. The CCTV search isn’t getting us anywhere.’
‘We’ve not identified a suspect yet who spoke to any of the victims and was there more than once. It’s got to be an inside job.’
‘So we’ve no proof any of these guys were picked up there?’ Jain scowled at Cullen. ‘I can see why you dumped this onto me.’
Sharon rummaged through her bag for her phone. ‘Okay, Chantal, let’s wrap up his statement, then meet the team at Leith Walk.’
Jain approached Egan, notebook out.
Cullen leaned against the wall. ‘Take it you don’t need me?’
Sharon shook her head. ‘You’ll be a spare part.’
‘What about that chat?’
‘Think I’ll be in till all hours. When I get in.’
‘Right, I’ll catch the bus. Need to get into the car, though.’
‘Why?’
‘My pizza’s in a doggy bag on the back seat.’
Wednesday
21st May 2014
Twenty-Four
Cullen entered the busy Incident Room carrying his morning coffee, blinking against the bright lights as he collapsed into a spare seat. His phone buzzed. He reached into his poc
ket and checked it.
Text from Sharon. Wanted to talk but didn’t get in till two. You were sound asleep. C U tonight. Luv S
Look forward to it. He sighed and pocketed his mobile.
‘That’s the mother of all sighs, Cullen.’ DC Stuart Murray reached down to brush his polished brogues, stamped with an elaborate pattern. He stood up and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.
‘You’ve stopped calling me “Sarge”?’
‘Better start again.’ Murray slumped against the wall. ‘Crystal says I’m reporting to you on this banker case.’
‘Shuffling the deckchairs on the Titanic.’ Cullen caught himself before he sighed again. ‘How was your holiday?’
‘A distant memory now. But aye, Menorca was—’
Shouting came from the opposite side of the room.
‘Listen to me, princess, I don’t fuckin’ care who you work for, okay? You tell me. Now!’
Murray frowned. ‘Is that Bain?’
‘And then some.’ Cullen jogged over to the centre of the storm. ‘What’s going on?’
Bain swung round and focused on Cullen. Then Murray. He snorted. ‘Ho ho! Look what the fuckin’ cat’s dragged in. Not seen you since you made a mess of that case out in banjo country.’
‘Banjo country?’
‘East fuckin’ Lothian. Still can’t get the sound of pigs squealing out of my fuckin’ head, pal. Where’s your boyf—’
‘Brian.’ Cullen stepped between them. ‘What are you doing?’
Bain frowned at Cullen. ‘Eh?’
‘Why are you shouting at one of my officers?’
‘You’re not progressing anything, so I need to find out what the fuck your team are up to.’
‘We’ve got a briefing in ten minutes to go over that.’
‘And you think I’m waiting? Fuckin’ pull the other one, it’s got—’
‘Quit hassling my team and let me speak to them. Okay?’
Bain got in his face, sickly breath washing over Cullen’s skin. He licked his lips. ‘We’re not fuckin’ done here.’