Ghost in the Machine (Scott Cullen)

by Ed James

Cullen noted it down. "Kim Milne?"

  "Yes. I think she is Rob Thomson's girlfriend."

  "And how do you know her?"

  There was another pause. "We worked together a few years ago. We were good friends."

  "Where was this?"

  "At Alba Bank."

  "You worked at Alba Bank?" asked Cullen, suddenly confused.

  "Yeah, till May last year. That was before I went contracting."

  "I see," said Cullen. "And you're sure that this came from Kim."

  "Yes, I'd stake my life on it."

  "Is there anyone else who may have told you?"

  There was a pause. "Now you mention it, there was someone else. Can't quite think who."

  If Cullen had been in the same room as him, someone would have had to have held him back.

  "Mr Wilson," he snapped, "I want you to report to Leith Walk station at 8am tomorrow to give a formal statement, otherwise I will be bringing you in for questioning regarding wasting police time."

  "Okay, okay," he said. "I'll be there."

  Cullen ended the call. He had been in half a mind to get him in that evening but wanted him to fester overnight. A sleepless night could work wonders.

  He picked up his phone and called Miller to tell him that he could come back in or go home. There was no answer.

  He leaned back in his chair and stared up, several air conditioning units dotted the ceiling at irregular intervals.

  He decided that he needed to speak to Kim Milne. He wondered if she had known that Rob had made death threats against Caroline. If she hadn't, then it called their relationship into question - something they could potentially exploit. If she had, then she must have been covering for him when they interviewed her. It threw the validity of her alibis into doubt. Shite, thought Cullen, maybe Bain was right.

  He felt a hand grip his shoulder tightly.

  "Sundance, Sundance, Sundance."

  He spun around. Bain had a shit-eating grin on his face.

  "What?" asked Cullen.

  "Case closed," he said.

  "Eh?"

  "Come with me, need you at the crime scene," said Bain. "Rob Thomson has killed again."

  "Who?"

  Bain paused, his grin widening. "Kim Milne."

  forty-three

  Cullen walked up the stairs following Bain's entourage, eventually catching up with McNeill on the second floor landing. The flat door had been smashed in and was loosely propped up against the hall wall. There were already SOCOs getting into their suits.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  She nodded recognition at him. "Anonymous 999 call. Someone heard banging and shouting from the flat and called it in. Some uniform from Gayfield Square ran round, burst open the door, and caught him in the bedroom with the body. She'd had her throat cut with a knife, just like the others. She was already dead."

  "Holy shit," said Cullen, entering the flat. "So Thomson really did it then?"

  "Certainly looks that way."

  "Bain seemed pleased."

  "Of course he is," she said. "He's just solved four murders. Better get used to calling him DCI Bain. Where is he by the way?"

  "Just coming up," said Cullen. "He was speaking to Wilkinson and Irvine downstairs."

  They heard a call from behind. They turned to face Bain, with the other two following in his wake. "Butch, Sundance, come with me," he called as he passed them. "Wilko, have a look in the bedroom."

  Cullen and McNeill followed Bain through to the living room, while Wilkinson and Irvine went into the bedroom.

  Rob Thomson was on the red leather sofa, his head in his hands. A uniformed officer sat on either side of him, both looking late 20s and athletic, both wearing full protective uniform.

  "Care to bring me up to speed?" asked Bain, gesturing to the hall.

  One of them got up. "DI Bain, is it?" he asked with a broad English accent. "PC Simon Buxton."

  "Corridor," said Bain, thumbing behind him. "Cullen, with me. McNeill, keep an eye on the suspect."

  They went back out into the corridor and slipped into the recess just outside the box room, out of the way of the officers milling around.

  "So then, PC Buxton," said Bain, "tell me what happened here?"

  "We got a call in to the station that there was a domestic in progress at this address," he said. "They saw that it had been flagged on HOLMES in a murder inquiry."

  Cullen suddenly thought of Miller sitting keying all the information into the system, everyone else treating it as a frivolity, a piece of procedure to be delegated to a junior officer like Miller.

  "We're based in Gayfield Square, so this is just round the corner," continued Buxton. "Me and Tommy ran round. We got let in by the first floor tenant. We came up to the flat, tried the door. Nobody answered so we broke it down. We found the suspect in the bedroom, bent over the body with a knife in his hands."

  "He was just standing there, with the knife in his hands?" asked Bain.

  "Yes," said Buxton.

  "Was she dead?"

  "She was by that point, yes."

  "So did he put up much of a fight?" asked Cullen.

  "Not at all," said Buxton. "I was surprised. Tommy grabbed him and I disarmed him. He just let us grab him. He was crying."

  "Guilt," said Bain. "Did you get your prints on the knife?"

  "Nah, I was careful. It's with Jimmy Anderson now. He'll get the prints done quick smart, I'd expect."

  "Was there anything else?" asked Cullen.

  "There was a blue rope round her throat," said Buxton. "Like you'd use camping, you know? Jimmy's sent it off to the lab as well."

  Bain nodded at Cullen. "See, same as the others."

  "Did Thomson say anything when you grabbed him?" Cullen asked Buxton.

  "Nothing."

  "A sure sign," said Bain.

  Cullen looked around the flat at the busy crime scene, thinking hard. Something nagged at his brain. "You said you came up to the flat. Did the 999 specify which flat it was?"

  Buxton frowned. "Think so, yeah. I mean I didn't take it. Someone out in Bilston got it from the OAC in Inverness. They'd flagged it with your murder inquiry on HOLMES but it got put through to us as well, being the nearest station."

  "Have you been round the flats here?" asked Cullen.

  "Not yet," replied Buxton, "we wanted to secure the suspect and wait for you guys to arrive."

  "Good work," said Bain. Buxton headed back through.

  Cullen thought it was odd that the call identified the specific flat, but wasn't prepared to mention it to Bain just yet.

  "Guess who's going to be doing the flats," said Bain.

  "Will do," said Cullen, grudgingly.

  "Right," said Bain, "let's get in and about Mr Thomson then, shall we?"

  Bain led through to the living room. He pulled over an upright chair from the other side of the room and sat right in front of Thomson. Cullen hovered beside him. Buxton had returned to his position beside Thomson on the sofa and McNeill was now leaning against the wall with her arms folded.

  "Mr Thomson," said Bain. "Can you hear me?"

  Thomson looked up. "Yes I can." His voice was deep and staccato, but he appeared lucid enough.

  "Can you explain what happened here?" asked Bain.

  "I've no idea."

  "Come on, Mr Thomson, you need to try harder than that. Your bird has turned up dead, you've got her blood all over you, your prints are all over the knife. It's not looking good for you, is it?"

  "She was dead when I found her."

  "Oh, you found her, did you?" asked Bain.

  "Came back from work," said Thomson. "When I got in, I couldn't find Kim at first. She was in the bedroom. Dead."

  "Can you tell me why you didn't phone the police when you found her?" asked Bain.

  "I don't know. I mean, I was going to."

  Bain leaned forward, right into Thomson's face. "You're not getting away with this, son. That's you fucked. Four murders - that makes y
ou a serial killer. You'll be away for a long, long time."

  Bain got up, looked at Buxton. "Constable, can you read him his rights and then take him to Leith Walk for questioning, please?" He looked at Cullen and McNeill and pointed out of the room. "You two, come with me."

  Bain led them from the room, back into the alcove in the hall by the box room door.

  "I think we've finally cracked it," he said.

  McNeill shrugged. "Looks that way."

  "It does, it does. Butch - can you go to his work and find out when this fucker left this evening."

  "And me?" asked Cullen.

  "Like I said, visit the other flats in this stairwell. I want to speak to whoever called this in."

  Cullen walked in on a packed Incident Room an hour and a half later. He stood at the back and leaned against the wall. Bain was standing at the front, wearing the same grin he wore earlier.

  "So, just to recap for DC Cullen's benefit," he said, gesturing at Cullen, "we've charged Rob Thomson with the murders of Caroline Adamson, Debi Curtis and Kim Milne. DS McNeill has managed to ascertain that Mr Thomson left the Alba Bank office at the back of 7pm, which fits with the timeline we've established. The initial round of questioning by DI Wilkinson and DS Irvine has yielded no further information, as you would expect."

  Cullen couldn't tell if the comment referred to Thomson's reticence or Wilkinson's incompetence.

  "Jimmy Deeley's initial findings show that the murder of Kim Milne shows a similar pattern to the others, but this is still to be fully confirmed. We have not charged Thomson with Gail McBride's murder yet but that is a mere formality which I will iron out with the Procurator Fiscal tomorrow morning."

  To Cullen, Gail was the most tenuous connection. The others were definitely linked to each other - Gail and Debi by the Schoolbook identity, Kim to Rob's presence. They were all seemingly linked by the method of execution. But the only connection between Rob and Gail that they knew about was that they both worked at Alba Bank.

  Bain held up an envelope. "I've also just got the forensic report on the threads that were found in the wounds of both Caroline and Debi. They were from the same rope. The strands from Debi's body had traces of Caroline's blood on them." He paused for a moment then grinned. "Finally, we found the actual rope around Kim Milne's neck and the knife that killed her at the scene. Forensics should confirm that, hopefully, the same knife was used on all four killings."

  Bain took a sip from a mug of coffee. "Now, Cullen, can you give us an update on the 999 call?"

  Every officer in the room turned to face him. He felt himself redden slightly. He moved away from the wall and cleared his throat.

  "I visited every flat in the stairwell and the two adjacent stairs," he said, his voice unsteady. "Where there was no-one present, I managed to get a contact number from neighbours, or I crossed them off if they were away on holiday. I've not found anyone who will own up to making the call."

  Bain scowled. "Typical."

  "It is allowed to be anonymous," said Cullen.

  Bain laughed. "Looks like it was a passer-by then," he said.

  "How could a passer-by point us to a specific flat?" asked Cullen.

  Bain made a show of shaking his head. "Aye, well, anyway," he said, "DCI Turnbull has offered to buy everyone a drink across the road. And we've agreed to a late start tomorrow - turn up at 9am rather than the usual. We're not finished with this case, but we're on the home straight." He clapped his hands together. "Right, off you go to the pub."

  The room emptied, accompanied by a bustle of chatter.

  Cullen made a beeline for Bain.

  "So you found nothing then, Sundance?" Bain stroked his moustache. "Still leaves a hole in this bloody case," he said.

  "Just the one then?" asked Cullen.

  "Leave it out, Sundance," said Bain. "How's it going with the guy that told us about the death threats? We need that nailed down soon."

  "Well, he was through in Glasgow when the murder happened tonight, according to him and his neighbour."

  "See, there you go," said Bain, "he's got an alibi. Stop looking."

  "Nobody's actually confirmed the death threats yet."

  Bain shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. We've nailed Thomson to these murders."

  "I'm not one hundred percent convinced yet," said Cullen.

  Bain raised his arms aloft. "You need to lighten up, Cullen. This is a big moment. This'll look good on your record, you know, playing a key role in solving a multiple murder case."

  "Do you honestly think this will get a conviction?" asked Cullen. "Our evidence linking the crimes together is circumstantial at best. Anything else we've got is sketchy."

  "I'm confident," said Bain, slowly nodding his head. "The Fiscal is as well. And this was before we caught him red-handed. We've got plenty of time to consolidate the other evidence we need before it gets anywhere near a jury."

  "Fine, whatever," said Cullen with a sigh. "I'm just sceptical, that's all. I think we're putting all of our eggs in one basket."

  "No," said Bain. "We've found four eggs in one basket," said Bain. "There's a world of difference."

  Cullen just shrugged his shoulders.

  "Are you going to come for a pint?" asked Bain.

  "Aye, I'll see you over there. I just want to write up my door-to-door."

  Bain raised an eyebrow. "If you're not desperate to get fired into the lager, could you do me a favour?"

  "Depends what it is."

  "I've had to put Wilkinson and Irvine in with Rob Thomson at DCI Turnbull's insistence, to ensure independence or some such shite. I want you to sit in, as I could do with Wilkinson over at the boozer."

  "Why?" asked Cullen.

  "Need the senior officers to show a proper thank you to the junior officers," said Bain, looking away from Cullen.

  Cullen clocked it immediately - Bain didn't want Wilkinson gaining any ground on him in the promotion stakes, so he was using some sort of solidarity with the junior officers as a ruse to prevent him uncovering anything before Bain.

  "Fine," said Cullen.

  "That's my boy," said Bain, patting him on the shoulder.

  Besides, Cullen wanted the opportunity to ask Rob Thomson some questions about Gail McBride.

  Rob Thomson sat across the table from Cullen and Irvine. He looked terrible, slouching in his chair, head bowed. His white shirt was soaked through with sweat, and he had dark rings under his eyes. A brown leather jacket was draped over the back of his chair. Campbell McLintock once again sat in, and had done all of the talking since Cullen had entered.

  "I'll ask you again then," said Irvine, in a poor facsimile of Bain. As ever, his mouth was pounding away on the contents of a pack of chewing gum when he wasn't speaking. "Where did the knife come from?"

  Thomson continued to stare down at the table. He and McLintock had obviously practiced their hand-offs since the earlier interview. Thomson had been mute throughout, deferring to the lawyer.

  "I will refer you to my client's previous comment," said McLintock.

  Irvine glowered. He had made no progress with the case since Cullen had arrived, only eliciting a stream of 'no comment' responses. The only thing he was in danger of doing was getting a punch in the face from McLintock. To Cullen, Bain's fears were obviously unfounded - Cullen couldn't imagine that Wilkinson had somehow raised the bar before being relieved.

  "Mr Thomson," said Cullen, "can you please explain how you know Gail McBride."

  Thomson frowned; it was obviously the first time that they had used her name. "Gail?"

  "Mr Thomson," said McLintock, "please refrain from any further comment."

  "Wait a minute," snapped Thomson. "Why are you asking me about Gail?"

  "Can you confirm that you know a Gail McBride?" asked Cullen.

  "Mr Thomson," boomed McLintock. "No further comment."

  Cullen sighed. "I'll take it from your response that you know Gail. Gail McBride was murdered on Sunday night."

  Th
omson snapped forward in his chair. "Gail's dead?"

  "Yes."

  Thomson closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose.

  "Fine, yes. I know Gail. Knew her. Christ."

  McLintock rolled his eyes. He slapped his fountain pen on the desk.

  "Thank you, Mr Thomson," said Cullen. "Can you elaborate on your relationship with Mrs McBride?"

  "I just worked with her for a while," said Thomson. "She's at Alba Bank too. We've just bought a bank over in Ireland; Eire Finance. I'm running the project to integrate them with our systems. Gail worked in operations and used the system all the time. She was on the project as a subject matter expert on the first phase of the project. I was in Dublin for about nine months. Gail was there for two or three."

  "I imagine that being away must have been pretty hard on your marriage," said Cullen.

  "Of course it was. I was over there, flying back every weekend. Sometimes we had stuff going in at the weekend, so I had to stay over there."

  "And during this period your marriage fell apart, am I right?" asked Cullen.

  "Yes. Caroline was nippin' my head all the time; Jack this, Jack that."

  "And this was when you started seeing Kim Milne?"

  "Aye. I didn't mean for anything to happen. The three of us were out – me, Gail and Kim – along with a big group of us. We had an expensive meal, few bottles of nice wine, all on expenses. Then we went on to a club."

  "I thought you were supposed to be working out there?" asked Irvine.

  "Aye, well, not all the time."

  "This night out, this was when you got together with Kim Milne?" asked Cullen.

  "Aye. Can't remember the name of the club. Kim was dancing on the tables, we almost got chucked out. Gail was embarrassed, kept telling her to stop it, but..."

  He suddenly broke down in tears, muttering "Kim".

  "Detective Constable," said McLintock, "I must insist that we terminate this interview until my client is in a more receptive frame of mind."

  "Okay," said Cullen. "Interview terminated at 22 26 hours," he said into the recorder.

  Cullen realised that he'd just made yet another connection.

  forty-four