by Ed James
He headed along Harry Lauder Road, powering past the train yards and the low-rent industrial units. He struck lucky at the other end, managing to get on to the A1 with only a single cycle of the new lights. He pulled off at Old Craighall and headed into Musselburgh from the south.
The address Bain had given him was near the railway station, across from the new Queen Margaret's University campus. He drove down streets of post-war terraces before turning into a modern brick-built estate and spotting a panda car parked outside the house.
A stern-faced female PC answered the door.
He showed his warrant card. "DC Cullen."
"PC Campbell."
"I've been asked to take over the case for CID," said Cullen. "Can you bring me up to speed?"
"We got the call from the station," said Campbell. "The lassie's a Gail McBride - her husband called in to report her missing. She was just out for a few drinks with her pal up the town, was supposed to be back on the last train."
"And when did he call it in?"
"Couple of hours ago," said Campbell.
"And she's been missing since last night?"
"Aye."
"MisPer report filed?" said Cullen.
"Aye." Campbell reached into a bag and handed him a copy.
Cullen had a look through. The photo was good - the missing woman was an intense-looking redhead, reasonably attractive. He flicked through the report. It didn't add much to what she'd just told him or to Bain's briefing. "Any other officers here?"
"Just Jimmy McKay," said Campbell. "He's making some tea the now, if you want some?"
"I'm fine."
"They've not wasted much time in getting CID in," said Campbell. "Must be that Caroline Adamson case that's all over the papers."
"And Debi Curtis," said Cullen, unable to help himself.
"Are they linked?"
"Definitely the same killer." Cullen nodded slowly, then exhaled. "Let's go inside."
Campbell led through to the living room. The house was decorated in vibrant colours - strong yellows, oranges, lime greens. The sitting room was a light purple - a pair of orange settees sat to either side of a large LCD TV, mounted on the wall.
"Mr McBride," said Campbell in a patronising tone. "This is DC Cullen from CID. He'll help us search for your wife."
Simon McBride sat on one of the sofas, his eyes red. He was a big man, his head shaved, ginger stubble showing through. He was sharply dressed.
Cullen smiled politely as he sat. "Do you have any idea where your wife might have gone?"
McBride just shrugged.
"Could she maybe have gone to her parents, or visited any friends?" said Cullen.
McBride shrugged again. "Don't think so."
"Who have you tried contacting?" said Cullen.
"Well, her parents," said McBride. "Her brother's in Ayr, but she hadn't heard from him in months."
"Any friends?"
"Not really, no," said McBride. "Just Sian, I suppose. That's who Gail was meeting last night. They often go out on a Friday, usually to one of the pubs in town, but Sian couldn't make it this week so they went out last night instead."
"By town," said Cullen, "do you mean Edinburgh or Musselburgh?"
"Edinburgh."
Cullen jotted it all down. "What's Sian's surname?"
"Saunders. They work together. As I say, they were going out in town. They work out at the Gyle, so it's halfway home, they just get off the train at Waverley. She was in work yesterday on overtime, supposed to be off today."
"What time did they arrange to meet?"
"I can't remember," said McBride. "I think it was the back of six."
"What time did you start to get concerned?" said Cullen.
"I don't know, really." McBride exhaled. "I was watching the game last night, had a couple of cans. When I turned the telly off it was about half ten, so I just went to bed."
"Does your wife often come back after you've gone to bed?"
McBride looked away. "She does, aye."
"So it was only this morning you first noticed she hadn't come home?"
McBride shrugged again. "Aye. About seven. I started calling her mates from work, starting with Sian."
"Have any of her clothes gone?" said Cullen.
"Not that I've noticed."
"What did Sian say happened?"
"She said they got the train back together," said McBride. "Sian stays in the Pans, so she saw her off the train at Musselburgh."
"And that's the last she saw of her?"
"Aye," said McBride. "I spoke to her this morning. She hadn't seen Gail on the train to work, so she was a bit worried. She's managed to swing a half day, see if she could help me find Gail."
Cullen jotted a few more notes. "How have you tried contacting your wife?"
McBride frowned. "I sent her a text."
"A text?" said Cullen. "You didn't try to phone her?"
McBride looked away. "Well, aye, I did after. No answer."
This guy's a tube, thought Cullen. "Did you go out to look for your wife?"
"Well, I had a wee look out on the street," said McBride, "but I didn't want to venture too far in case she came back."
Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you haven't bothered to look for her?"
A tear appeared on McBride's cheek. "Things haven't been great between us. She... She might have left me."
"Do you have an address for Ms Saunders?"
forty-eight
Sian Saunders lived in part of an ex-council block just off the top road in Prestonpans, a short walk to the railway station, two stops down the line from Musselburgh. Cullen parked in the station car park and walked over. He rang the buzzer and waited.
"Hello?" The voice through the intercom system was heavily distorted.
"Ms Saunders? It's DC Cullen of Lothian & Borders police. Can you let me in?"
The door clunked open. The dark hallway was painted red on the lower half, then cream above - Cullen could never understand why they did that. He went upstairs, passing a large window, and was astonished by the change. There were plants on the balcony and the walls were painted a fresh cream shade. Cullen figured the downstairs flats were probably still council-owned, but the upstairs were now private.
Sian Saunders was standing in the doorway, tall and thin with bright ginger hair tied back in a long ponytail, an intense look in her eyes. "Come in. I've just got back." She turned around and went into the flat.
The inside was roasting - it felt like the heating was on full blast, despite it being the middle of summer.
"I'm through here," said Sian.
Cullen followed the voice through to the kitchen.
She was distractedly mashing a teabag against the side of the cup. There was a half-empty bottle of red wine on the counter, beside a takeaway pizza box. "I'm just back from work. Simon told me Gail's disappeared, so I've taken a half day. I was just going to head over to their house after I've had a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?"
"Tea," said Cullen. "Just milk, thanks."
Sian made him a cup of tea, tipping in milk from a carton sitting on the counter. She put their cups on a tray and led the way through to the living room. She sat in the armchair, folding her legs up under her, Cullen sitting on the settee opposite. There was a good view out of the window, across the railway line looking up to Tranent perched on the hill the other side of the dual carriageway.
Cullen took out his notebook. "Can you tell me about your movements last night? You and Mrs McBride."
"We were at a bar in town," said Sian.
"Which bar was this?"
"The one on the corner of George Street, at the St Andrews Square end," said Sian. "Grape, I think it's called."
"Is this a regular meeting on a Sunday?" said Cullen.
"No," said Sian. "I was away at the weekend, so we didn't go out on Friday. We were both in work yesterday, so we went out last night instead."
"And you left the bar together?"
"Aye, we got the last train home. We'd only meant to have a couple of glasses, but ended up getting sloshed."
"What time was the last train?"
"Just after eleven," said Sian. "Five past, I think."
"So the last time you saw Mrs McBride was when she got off the train?"
Sian blew on her tea. "I watched her walk up the path to the road, but aye."
"Did you see anyone suspicious get off the train?" said Cullen. "Anyone lurking at the station?"
"No," said Sian, quickly. "I wasn't looking, mind."
Cullen took a mouthful of tea, far too weak for him. "Did Simon McBride call you this morning?"
"Aye, back of eight." She sat back and folded her arms. "I was just getting to work. He said she'd not come home. He didn't seem too bothered. Things haven't been great between them."
From the way Simon McBride seemed earlier, Cullen could understand why. "How do you mean, not great?"
"Well, she was pretty fed up with him," said Sian.
"Had she talked about leaving him?"
"A couple of times," said Sian. "She was talking about it last night."
"Do you have any reason to suspect her husband of foul play?"
"No." Sian shook her head. "Simon's not the sharpest card in the deck."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, he's good at his job," said Sian. "He sells pensions, but all he's into is football and rugby. He's not got a bad bone in his body, really. I know him fairly well, he'd never harm her."
"I see," said Cullen. "Do you think he had any suspicions Gail was thinking of leaving him?"
"I doubt it," said Sian. "They barely talked."
"How do you think he would react if she did?"
"Gail's his life," said Sian. "He'd just fall to pieces. He'd struggle to cope. She practically babies him, does all the cooking, washing and cleaning and that. He loves her to bits, but she's... Well."
Cullen handed her his card. "I'll be in touch."
forty-nine
Cullen leaned against the side of his car and called Bain.
"Hello there, Sundance," said Bain. "How's sunny Musselburgh?"
"I'm in Prestonpans now," said Cullen.
"Okay, how's sunny Prestonpans then?"
"Yeah, great," said Cullen. "I'm pretty much done here. I've just been speaking to the friend she was out with."
"Oh aye?"
"Gail McBride was out in Edinburgh with a friend last night," said Cullen. "The friend says she saw her off the North Berwick train at Musselburgh. She's gone missing in the three hundred metres between the train station and her house. Her husband went to bed after the football last night. She didn't come back."
"I see." Bain sounded disinterested. "And you believe him?"
"I've no reason not to."
"And this pal said she saw her off the train and that's it?" said Bain.
"That's what she just told me," said Cullen. "I'll maybe re-interview her later."
"Take it you've confirmed all this, aye?"
"With the friend anyway," said Cullen. "We could probably do with checking a few other sources."
"What do you think happened?"
Cullen stood up and started pacing along the pavement. "I think there are probably three possibilities. One, she was attacked on the way home from the station. Two, she's run away. Three, the husband's killed her when she got home."
"Go on."
"The friend confirmed there have been problems between Gail and the husband," said Cullen. "Gail's talked about leaving him. I'd say it's most likely she's run away. The husband seems like he's a bit dim and I'm not sure it's an act. I'm struggling to imagine him planning to kill her, or anything like that. Could have been a spur of the moment thing, I suppose, but it's not like there's a dismembered body in a ditch. If he did kill her, he's done a good job of covering up and he just doesn't seem capable."
"Right. So basically, any one of your three could have happened?"
Cullen took a deep breath and thought it through. "I suppose so."
Bain paused. "Do you think it could be linked to Caroline and Debi?"
Cullen thought about it for a few seconds. "Doesn't look likely, but there are a few things I'd like to look into."
"And if you were a gambling man?"
"I am one," said Cullen. "If I had to put money on it, I would say she left him. It's the likeliest scenario, I'd say."
Bain sighed with relief. "Jim's shitting himself we've got another one. Good work. I'll get some officers on to it. I've palmed this off onto Wilko. I've got my fuckin' plate full with this case as it is and he's doing bugger all other than get in my way."
"What about me?"
"Wilko's on his way out," said Bain. "Get back over to Musselburgh. He'll meet you at this boy's house."
"So I'm one of his officers then?" said Cullen.
"Try not to use your initiative till Wilko gets there, Sundance."
fifty
Cullen spotted Wilkinson sitting in a panda car around the corner from Musselburgh train station. He parked along the road and went over. The window in the car was wound down, Wilkinson smoking an untipped cigarette, TalkSport blaring out, a Scouser railing against Liverpool's pre-season form. Cullen slid into the passenger seat.
Wilkinson ignored him, taking a long drag on his cigarette then laughing at what the caller was saying. "There's no way they'll finish top four this season. They've had their time."
"Thought you'd be more a Rugby League guy," said Cullen.
"What, you mean cos I'm a fat bastard?" Wilkinson laughed. "Can't stand either flavour of bloody rugby. I'm Leeds United through and through."
"Bain asked me to report to you," said Cullen.
Wilkinson laughed. "So he did." He took another drag, taking his time exhaling. He held up the Evening News, the still of Martin Webb at the supermarket beneath the headline Caroline Killer: Photo. "She's still the main story. Poor Debi's not getting the coverage she deserves. And Caroline's a single mother, too." He tutted.
"What do you want me to do?" said Cullen.
"Need another body to go door-to-door," said Wilkinson. "And Bain sent you."
As Cullen was formulating an objection, Wilkinson reached over and picked up an Airwave, the latest generation police radio, and called for PC Campbell. "I want you to pair up with Vicky Campbell. She's a good cop and no mistaking."
Cullen wasn't too chuffed by being paired up with her.
Wilkinson gestured round the crescent. "You pair are to do the houses leading away from the McBride's on that side."
"Anything specific you want to know?" said Cullen.
"Just use the initiative DI Bain praises you for." Wilkinson turned up the radio. "Now, out you get."
Cullen got out and walked back to his car. He reached in and retrieved the roll he'd bought from a petrol station on the way back over. He leaned against the side of his car and ate it as he waited, pissed off at Bain, Wilkinson and pretty much everyone else.
***
It was just after one and they'd managed to visit eighteen houses. Campbell agreed she would make some return visits that evening, then went back inside Simon McBride's house to check on any updates at that end.
Cullen got in the squad car and informed Wilkinson of the lack of progress they'd made, having no idea what he had been doing all that time, other than sitting on his arse.
"So that's it?" said Wilkinson. "Nothing at all?"
"Afraid so," said Cullen. "I'm going to head back to the station. I don't think you need a DC for this, not when I've got other actions Bain wants me to close down."
Wilkinson grunted. "Go and see McAllister before you leave."
Cullen deflated. "McAllister?"
"Aye, lad," said Wilkinson. "I've had him looking for anyone who was on the last train yesterday. He's on the platform, bottom of the hill."
"What's he doing down there?"
"Speaking to people getting off the train, what do you think?"
"And what do you want me to do?"
Wilkinson looked at him for a few seconds. "See what he's found, then tell me."
"Can't you do that?"
"No," said Wilkinson. "I'm supervising everything."
Cullen reluctantly headed off for the train station, checking out the new Queen Margaret's University campus sprawled on the other side of the tracks. Looking down he saw a train pulling off, a group of about twenty people starting the march up the hill. He moved out of the way at the top to let them past.
As he waited he spotted McAllister with a young PC, standing in the middle of the path up from the platform. They were talking to a woman who looked mid-thirties, but dressed mid-twenties. Cullen started down towards them, the woman walking off as he approached.
"DC Cullen," said McAllister. "Heard you'd be sniffing around."
McAllister's protégé moved away towards the platform.
"Wilkinson's asked me to see how you were doing," said Cullen.
McAllister got into Cullen's face. "Snooping around, are you? Going to grass me up to Bain again?"
Cullen stepped back and sighed. "Not unless you've been messing about again. I'm just doing DI Wilkinson's job for him."
McAllister actually laughed. "He's like that."
"Well? Have you made any progress?"
McAllister shrugged. "Spoken to five people now who were on the last train. That lassie I was just speaking to was one of them. None of them saw anything. A couple actually recognised this Gail lassie, mainly by her face, not her name. They didn't see her on the train last night."
Cullen frowned. "Really? So it doesn't look like she was on it?"
McAllister raised his hands in the air. "Christ knows. I'm wasting my bloody time here. Most of them would've been pissed, wouldn't remember if their husband or wife was sitting next to them on that train. I mean this is bloody Musselburgh, hardly the smartest bit of the Lothians." He yawned. "I doubt I'll get anything until later on when the commuter crowd start heading home."