by Ed James
DS Holdsworth was speaking to Wilkinson near the entrance, arguing about rugby.
"Holdsworth," Cullen called over. They both looked up. "Have you seen Bain or McNeill?"
"Think she went upstairs for a coffee," replied Holdsworth. "Bain's gone off to interview that guy you brought in."
Cullen ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time, clutching the papers in his fist. He burst through into the canteen.
McNeill was in the queue.
"Sharon," he called, out of breath.
She looked back at him. "What is it?"
"I've got something. The Friends lists. There's someone that's on all three of them."
He handed her the sheet of paper, the name circled.
She gasped. "Rob Thomson."
forty
"Sundance, I could fuckin' kiss you."
Bain looked disgustingly happy. They'd tracked him down to the CCTV suite; Irvine was at the controls. The screen was filled with the image of the mobile phone buyer at Tesco. A large laser printer sat in the corner, spitting out prints from the screen.
"Wondered when you'd make your move on Scott," drawled McNeill.
Bain glared at her, but continued. "This is really good work," said Bain. He took a slurp of Red Bull Cola.
"Now, there's some solid irrefutable evidence that's pointing to Rob Thomson," said Bain. "Those bloody alibis were a pack of lies."
"It isn't solid evidence," Cullen stated. "It's a lead, an avenue of investigation."
"It bloody is evidence."
"Rob was a friend of Gail's, that's all."
Bain scowled.
"How did it go with the CCTV footage from Edinburgh Park?" Cullen asked Irvine, hoping to avoid Bain going off the deep end.
"Nothing," replied Irvine. "The only car that Naismith boy found on his search turned up at the Tram car park just across from where the body was found. Keith Miller's doing a search into it."
Cullen nodded. He leaned forward and tapped the screen. "Have you shown any of this to that Jonny Soutar guy that we brought in?" he asked, looking at Bain. "You need some witness statements to back this up."
Bain's left nostril twitched as he stared at Cullen. "I can do what I bloody like - I'm the Senior Investigating Officer here."
"So you haven't shown it to him yet?" asked Cullen. "The only thing he's seen is the photo I showed him?"
"Aye," said Bain.
"He's confirmed that it's the person he saw," said Cullen. "He has not confirmed that it's Rob Thomson."
Bain evaded his gaze. "I've been down prepping him. DS Irvine's just printing off some of these shots for him to peruse." He took another swig of cola. "It could be Rob Thomson."
"It could be anyone, though," said Cullen, his voice raised. "It could be DI Wilkinson, could be Keith Miller in a padded jacket. It's a tall, well-built man, that's all. You've got nothing to prove that it's Rob Thomson."
Cullen thought that the DI was way past the point of obsession. The possibility of promotion was clearly eating away at him.
Bain practically snarled. "Listen, Cullen, it fuckin' is him."
Cullen folded his arms. "There is no way you can say that for definite."
"Butch, back me up here," shouted Bain.
She shook her head. "I'm not saying anything."
Bain glared at Cullen, his little eyes almost searing. "How about those death threats?" asked Bain. "You were supposed to verify them for me."
Cullen looked away from him. "I'll give you an update by seven o'clock."
Bain's nostrils flared again. "Cullen, this is the last fuckin' straw. Can you stop fuckin' about and do what I ask you for once? All you've done today is assault a member of the public instead of getting corroboration of these death threats and then fuck about with McNeill and Jain."
Bain had a habit of lashing out when he was up against it, but Cullen had not seen anything like this before. Cullen didn't say anything, deliberately restraining himself from reminding Bain that it was him that had linked Gail McBride to the other murders just that morning.
Bain squared up to him. "You're fuckin' about here, Constable," he spat. "Every single task you've been set you've not completed. I've found you away with other officers on random trips at least three times today and I still don't have corroboration of the death threats."
Cullen stepped back. He couldn't even look at Bain for fear of punching him.
"I need you to go back to your desk, pick up the phone, dial some numbers, speak to some people and verify those fuckin' death threats. Now," shouted Bain. "Those are the witnesses I want at the trial. I'm away to speak to the Procurator Fiscal, see if I can pull Thomson back in." He pointed a finger at Cullen. "Verify the fuckin' death threats."
Cullen turned the key in the ignition. His pulse was still racing from the confrontation, his hands still shaking.
There was a rap on the passenger side window. He looked over. McNeill.
He took a deep breath, turned the engine off. He reached over and opened the door to let her in.
"Are you on your way home?" she asked.
He nodded. "I just can't take any more of this nonsense from him."
"It was uncalled for," she said. "He's out of order. I don't know what the hell he's playing at."
"I know exactly what he's playing at. It's like you've been saying, they're all playing for Turnbull's job. If Bain can get a quick conviction here then he's a shoo-in for it."
"It's that or the pressure of this case," said McNeill. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Strathclyde murder squad pitches up here soon because we've made such a mess of it."
They sat in silence for a while. Cullen's pulse gradually slowed.
"Am I out of order here?" he finally asked. "I seem to be the only one challenging him."
"I am as well," she said.
"Are you?" he retorted. "It feels like it's just me. And Bain's giving me a total kicking for it."
"That's just Bain being Bain," she said.
"Yeah, well, if it wasn't just me shouting about it, he'd maybe listen to some sense. I need you to back me up."
She glared at him. "Scott, you're lashing out."
"I'm not. I'm in at the deep end here."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you have an alternative suspect?"
"No," he said, after a pause. He realised that he didn't. "Do I have to? Bain is going after Rob Thomson with very little evidence."
"And he's under pressure to get someone. I'm not defending his behaviour but unless we've got a credible alternative, then Bain will not listen to you."
He looked out of the driver's window, across the car park past the rows of cars, to the ramp up to street level at the end. He thought about what she said. He didn't have an alternative, she was right.
"Are you still going to go home?" she asked.
"I'm not exactly doing much good here, am I?"
"Just because Bain doesn't appreciate your efforts, doesn't mean that you're not helping. You are probably the only one finding leads."
"Thanks," he said.
"Why do you think it's not Rob Thomson?" she asked.
"I don't know whether he did it or not," he said, after thinking about it. "But I do know we don't have any solid evidence against him. Everything we've got is just circumstantial, hypothetical, supposition. Bain needs a collar. Thomson looks like he fits the bill. That CCTV footage is the clincher for me. It's inconclusive - all that he can say definitively is that it is a big man in a hoodie. And those death threats are just hearsay as far as I can tell. We've got nobody backing it up. No corroboration at all."
"Has anyone denied them?" she asked.
He frowned. "Just Rob Thomson, I suppose."
"And who else have you tried?" she asked.
"Her friends on Schoolbook."
They sat in silence. Cullen thought it through. Caldwell had contacted more people than he had, but neither of them had found anyone who'd heard of the threats.
; He punched the steering wheel. "I've been a total idiot."
"Eh?"
"You've just given me a good idea."
Cullen knocked on the door. After a few seconds, it was answered.
Amy Cousens looked awful, her eyes circled with dark rings. This was the first time Cullen had seen her since Caroline's body had been found.
His realisation in the car was that they'd been focusing all their efforts on Schoolbook - that there was a real world out there that they could consult. Real people he could speak to.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I need to speak to you about a couple of things."
"Come in, then," she said, somewhat reluctantly.
He followed her inside. Jack was sitting playing with his Doctor Who dolls, though he appeared even quieter than before. Cullen was surprised that the boy was still there. He wondered if he knew what had happened to his mother.
Cullen reached into the pocket of his overcoat and retrieved the memory stick. "Thanks for this," he said. "Hopefully we'll get something soon."
She looked round. "Hopefully." She sat down. "I take it there's been nothing?"
He grimaced. "Not yet, I'm afraid."
"Jesus." Cullen noticed that she had a hanky in her hand, clenching it tightly. "I hope they catch..." She just left the sentence hanging.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
She sniffed back a tear. "It's hard. I'm not coping too well. I can't believe she's... Jack is keeping my mind off it."
To Cullen it was the opposite reaction to that of Caroline's parents the other day. No stoic Calvinist 'get on with it', just a tidal wave of emotion.
He gestured towards Jack. "How's he doing?"
"Not great. He keeps asking where his Mummy is. Caz's Dad came through this morning. He's clearing out her flat. He's taking Jack back to Carnoustie this evening."
"How's Rob taking that?" asked Cullen.
"From what I hear," she said, "he's fine with it. So long as he can see him every so often, he said he doesn't mind."
Cullen noted that down.
"Why are you here?" she asked. "I don't need you to babysit me, you know."
"I'm not attempting to," he said. "Tell me, did Caroline ever say anything about Rob making death threats against her?"
She sat forward in the chair. "Death threats?"
"Yes," he said. "After they divorced. Someone that knew Caroline told us that it was common knowledge in Carnoustie."
She shrugged. "Caroline didn't have much to do with that place after she left University. Obviously she still saw her parents, but she didn't go back to see her pals or anything. I'm not surprised there were rumours like that going round, though."
"Not surprised?"
"Well, you know what small towns are like. People make up shite and, before you know, it's spread all around the place."
"Do you know if Rob kept in touch with people there?" he asked.
"Don't think so."
"Okay." The rumours would have had to come from Caroline's friends if there was any truth to them, Cullen figured. Rob Thomson wasn't likely to go around bragging about them. "Can you give me a little bit more about the sort of relationship Caroline and Rob had after the divorce?"
She thought it through slowly, her eyes locked on the coffee table. "From what I remember, Rob really backed off after, just let it go through. I don't think he even saw Jack from that night till the divorce papers had been signed."
"How long would that have been?" he asked.
"Couple of months?"
"And after the divorce, how often did he see him?"
"Afterwards, it was just Rob picking Jack up for his paternal visits. And not exactly every time he was supposed to, either. I think Rob and Caroline didn't speak about anything other than Rob having Jack for the day."
"You mention that he wasn't reliable," said Cullen. "Did Caroline give him a hard time about it? Did she make anything of it?"
"Hardly. She figured they were better off without him in their lives. She didn't push it. She'd bitch to me about it, but it was more about having to change her plans last minute when he didn't show up."
"And you never heard of any death threats?" Cullen repeated.
"No way," she said. "Caroline would have told me."
Cullen talked as he walked, turning onto Leith Walk.
"Mr Allen," he said, "It's DC Cullen again. We spoke on Friday about Caroline."
"I remember," said Allen. He sounded torn up.
"Are you okay?" asked Cullen.
"No, I'm not doing too good," he said. "I suppose I'll cope. Eventually. Have you made any progress?"
"We're making good progress," said Cullen. "I wanted to ask you some more questions, if that's okay. Let me know if it's not."
"Please, if it will help you in any way at all."
"Okay. Mr Allen, you'd been friends with Caroline from your Carnoustie days, that's correct, isn't it?"
"It is."
"We recently received some information from an acquaintance of Caroline's that Rob Thomson had made death threats to her after their divorce."
"Who told you that?" asked Allen.
"I'm not at liberty to divulge that."
Allen exhaled down the line. "I was one of Caroline's closest friends," he said. "She never told me anything like that. And believe me, she would have. We shared things with each other that we wouldn't with other people. And neither of us would blab. And certainly not to anyone from Carnoustie." He almost spat the last words out.
"So just to confirm you've never heard anything about death threats?" asked Cullen.
"That's correct."
"Thank you for your time, Mr Allen," said Cullen. "I'll be in touch if I need to."
He ended the call.
He was outside Caroline's flat now. He pressed the flat buzzer.
David Adamson clutched the cup of tea in his hand. "So you've heard that we're taking the boy up to Carnoustie today?"
Cullen nodded as he put his empty mug down on the floor of Caroline Adamson's living room.
Most of the furniture had gone, the flat an empty shell. The living room in the flat was piled high with boxes and bin bags. Most of her possessions were now stowed away, the walls with lines of dirt around now vacant pictures. Just getting on with it appeared to be the Adamson way of coping.
"It's for the best," continued Adamson. "He's a lovely wee laddie. He doesnae deserve what's happened to him. None of us do." He took another sip of tea. "Are you any closer to finding this animal?"
He spoke in a measured tone, no rage or accent evident in the strong words.
"I can assure you that we're doing all that we can. We are still progressing a few leads. We're confident we'll find whoever did this to your daughter."
"I hear that he did this to other girls. Is that right?"
Cullen nodded slowly. "There have been some other murders in the city over the last couple of days and we're investigating any links, as we are with any murders over the last few years."
Adamson gripped the cup in his hand. "Why haven't you got him yet?"
"There's nothing I can confirm yet, Mr Adamson, but I can assure you that this case has the highest priority in Lothian and Borders just now."
Adamson put his cup onto the coffee table.
"Mr Adamson, we received a report that your son-in-law made some death threats against Caroline."
Adamson frowned at him.
"I take it you weren't aware of this?" asked Cullen.
"No. No, I wasn't."
"Was it likely that you wouldn't have heard?"
He paused for a few seconds. "My daughter was very headstrong, didn't want to share much with either myself or my wife."
His eyes welled up. Cullen thought that his own parents didn't know much about his private life either.
"No, I'm sure there was nothing like that, understand?" said Adamson. "I ken his father very well, still play golf with him. We were both very disappointed with wh
at happened between Caroline and Rob, you know? But it happened."
"How would you describe their relationship after the divorce?"
"After the divorce?" Adamson sat forward on the sofa, leaned in towards Cullen. "I don't know. Things seemed to improve between them, ken? It was fairly amicable. And believe you me, if I'd had wind of anything like these threats, I would have battered him, regardless of how big he is."
forty-one
Half an hour later, Cullen sat in the station canteen at a table in the corner, keeping away from everyone. In truth, he was hiding out, trying to avoid another confrontation with Bain. The information he'd just gained was bound to kick off another fight, especially if Bain was trying to get the PF to sign up to charging Rob Thomson.
The canteen was open pretty much all day, though the selection available varied. There was, however, a constant supply of strong coffee and sub-standard sandwiches. He took the final bite of his chicken salad sandwich and crumpled the bag into a ball. He drank the last of the Dr Pepper. He was still exhausted but at least now he wasn't hungry any more.
It was after half six in the evening and he was messing about with his iPhone, currently checking the Aberdeen football news on the BBC. There were rumours that they were signing some guy who had played for Hearts a few years previously. He didn't have any great expectations for the coming season. When Craig Brown became Aberdeen manager, Cullen's flatmate Tom reckoned that he would make them hard to beat. To Cullen, all he'd done was make them unable to win.
A notification pinged up from the Schoolbook app. Another message from Alison. "Looking forward to meeting tonight. See you at eight." He couldn't remember arranging to meet her. It must have been something he said the previous evening as he rushed off. He replied "Not likely to get away tonight. Will call." He had no intention of calling.
He ran a search for Martin Webb again, to see if anything had changed with the account. It was still exactly the same, the same chiselled model face. Schoolbook had not removed the profile yet.
After a moment's hesitation, he tapped on the button to add Martin Webb as a friend.