by Ed James
Bain snorted. "Care to bring me up to speed?"
One of them got up - his hair was dark brown and cut in the same style Paul Weller and Johnny Marr had adhered to since the eighties. "DI Bain, is it?" He had a London accent. "PC Simon Buxton." He held out his hand.
Bain shook his hand. "Hall." He thumbed behind him. "Cullen, with me. McNeill, keep an eye on the suspect."
They went back out into the hall 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 into the station of a domestic in progress at this address," said Buxton. "It was flagged on HOLMES in a murder inquiry."
Cullen thought of Miller 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.
"We're based in Gayfield Square, so this is just round the corner," said Buxton. "Me and Tommy ran round. The first floor tenant let us in. 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?" said Bain.
"Yeah," said Buxton.
"Was she dead?"
"She was by that point, yeah."
"Did he put up much of a fight?" said Cullen.
"Not at all," said Buxton. "I was surprised. Tommy grabbed him and I disarmed him. He just let us. He was crying."
"Guilt." Bain grinned. "Did you get your prints on the knife?"
"No, I was careful," said Buxton. "It's with Jimmy Anderson now. He'll get the prints done quick smart, I'd expect."
"Was there anything else?" said 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. "Same as the others. Oh ye of little faith."
"Did Thomson say anything when you grabbed him?" said Cullen.
"Nothing," said Buxton.
"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."
"They specified the flat?" said Cullen.
"Yeah," said Buxton.
"Have you been round the flats here?" said Cullen.
"Not yet," said Buxton, "we wanted to secure the suspect and wait for you guys to arrive."
"Good work."
Buxton headed back through.
Cullen thought it was odd the call identified the specific flat, but wasn't going to press it with Bain just yet.
"Guess who's going to be doing the flats," said Bain.
Cullen rubbed his face. "Will do."
"Right, let's get in and about Mr Thomson then, shall we?" Bain led through to the living room. He pulled over a chair from the other side of the room - checking the nearest SOCO was finished with it - and sat right in front of Thomson.
Cullen hovered beside him. Buxton 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?" said Bain.
"I've no idea."
"Come on, Mr Thomson, you need to try harder than that," said Bain. "Your bird's dead, you've got her blood all over you and your prints are all over the knife. It's not looking good for you, is it?"
"She was dead when I found her," said Thomson.
"Oh, you found her, did you?" said Bain.
"Came back from work," said Thomson. "When I got in, I couldn't find Kim. She was in the bedroom. Dead."
"Can you tell me why you didn't phone the police when you found her?" said Bain.
"I don't know," said Thomson. "I was going to. They just turned up, didn't they?"
Bain leaned forward, right into Thomson's face. "You're not getting away with this. That's you proper fucked now. Four murders - that makes you a serial killer. You'll be away for a long, long time. They'll write books about you."
He got up, looked at Buxton. "Constable, can you read him his rights 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." He led them from the room, back into the alcove in the hall by the box room door. "I think we've finally cracked it."
McNeill shrugged. "Looks that way."
"It does, it does," said Bain. "Butch - can you go to his work and find out when this fucker left this evening."
"And me?" said Cullen.
"Like I said, Sundance, visit the other flats in this stairwell. I want to speak to whoever called this in."
eighty
Cullen walked into a packed Incident Room an hour and a half later. He stood at the back and leaned against the wall.
Bain was at the front, leading the briefing with the same grin he wore earlier. He pointed at Cullen. "So, just to recap for DC Cullen's benefit, 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 seven, 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 the murder of Kim Milne follows a similar pattern to the others, but this is still to be fully confirmed. We haven't charged Thomson with Gail McBride's murder yet but that's a mere formality I'll iron out with the Procurator Fiscal tomorrow morning."
In Cullen's mind, Gail was the most tenuous connection. The others were definitely linked to each other - Caroline and Debi by the Schoolbook identity of Martin Webb, Kim to Rob's presence. They were all apparently linked by the method of execution. But the only connection between Rob and Gail was they both worked at Alba Bank.
Bain held up an envelope. "I've just got the forensic report on the threads found in the wounds of both Caroline and Debi. They were from the very same rope. The strands from Debi's body had traces of Caroline's blood on them."
He paused for a moment then grinned. "At the scene, we found the actual rope around Kim Milne's neck along with the knife that killed her. Forensics should confirm the same knife was used in all four murders." He 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 Cullen. 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. 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'll own up to making the call."
Bain scowled. "Typical."
"It's allowed to be anonymous," said Cullen.
Bain laughed. "Looks like it was a passer-by then."
"How could a passer-by point us to a specific flat?" said Cullen.
Bain shook his head. "Anyway, DCI Turnbull has offered to buy everyone a drink across the road. We've agreed to a late start tomorrow - turn up at nine 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 fo
und nothing then, Sundance?" Bain stroked his moustache. "Still leaves a hole in this bloody case."
"Just the one?"
"Leave it out, Sundance," said Bain. "How's it going with the guy who told us about the death threats? We need that nailed down soon."
"He was through in Glasgow when the murder happened tonight, according to him and his neighbour," said Cullen.
"See, there you go," said Bain, "he's got an alibi. Stop looking."
"Nobody's actually confirmed the death threats yet," said Cullen.
Bain shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. We've nailed Thomson to these murders."
"I'm not one hundred per cent convinced," said Cullen.
Bain raised his arms. "You need to lighten up, Sundance. This is a big moment. This'll look good on your record, you know, playing a key role in solving a multiple murder."
"Do you honestly think this will get a conviction?" said Cullen. "Our evidence linking the crimes together is circumstantial at best."
"I'm confident." Bain slowly nodded 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." Cullen sighed. "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. There's a world of difference."
Cullen just shrugged his shoulders.
"Are you going to come for a pint?" said 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 Turnbull's insistence to ensure independence or some such shite," said Bain. "I want you to sit in, as I could do with Wilkinson over at the boozer."
"Why?"
Bain looked away from Cullen. "Need the superior officers to show a proper thank you to the junior officers."
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."
Bain patted him on the shoulder. "That's my boy."
Anyway, Cullen wanted the opportunity to ask Rob Thomson some questions about Gail McBride.
eighty-one
Thomson slouched in his chair across the table from Cullen and Irvine. He looked terrible, his white shirt soaked through with sweat and 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 entered.
"I'll ask you again." Irvine's mouth was pounding on the contents of a pack of chewing gum when he wasn't speaking. "Where did the knife come from?"
Thomson continued to stare at the table. He and McLintock had obviously practiced their hand-offs since the earlier interview. Thomson was mute throughout, deferring to the lawyer.
"I will refer you to my client's previous comment," said McLintock.
Irvine glowered - he'd 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. Bain's fears were obviously unfounded - Cullen couldn't imagine 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 they had used her name. "Gail?"
"Please refrain from any further comment," said McLintock.
"Wait a minute," said Thomson. "Why are you asking me about Gail?"
"Can you confirm you know a Gail McBride?" said Cullen.
"No further comment," said McLintock.
Cullen sighed. "I'll take it from your response you know Gail. She was murdered on Sunday night."
Thomson snapped forward in his chair. "Gail's dead?"
"Yes," said Cullen.
Thomson closed his eyes. "Fine, yes, I know Gail. Knew her. Christ."
McLintock slapped his fountain pen on the desk.
"Thank you, Mr Thomson," said Cullen. "Can you elaborate on your relationship with Mrs McBride?"
"I worked with her for a while," said Thomson. "She works at Alba Bank too. I'm running the project to integrate Eire Finance 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. I was in Dublin for about nine months. Gail was there for two or three."
"I imagine being away must have been pretty hard on your marriage," said Cullen.
"Of course it was," said Thomson. "I was over there, flying back every weekend. Sometimes we had stuff going in at the weekends as well, so I had to stay there."
"And during this period your marriage fell apart, am I right?" said Cullen.
"Yes," said Thomson. "Caroline was nipping 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?" said Irvine.
Thomson shrugged his shoulders. "Not all the time."
"This night out," said Cullen, "this was when you got together with Kim Milne?"
"Aye," said Thomson. "I can't remember the name of the club. Kim was dancing on the tables and we almost got chucked out. Gail was embarrassed, kept telling her to stop it, but..." He broke down in tears, muttering "Kim".
"I must insist we terminate this interview until my client is in a more receptive frame of mind," said McLintock.
"Okay," said Cullen. "Interview terminated at twenty-two twenty-six hours.
Cullen didn't know how Bain would interpret this new connection.
eighty-two
As Cullen pushed open the Elm's front door, his phone rang - Alison. He let it ring out. He couldn't be bothered with that just now.
The Elm was absolutely rammed. Cullen recognised a few faces at various tables, but his attention was drawn to the bar. Bain was holding court - Irvine, Wilkinson and Holdsworth all hanging on his every word, along with an irritated-looking McNeill. Miller was at a table with McAllister.
Cullen's phone buzzed with a new text - Alison left a voicemail.
"Sundance." Bain was already three sheets to the wind - he held up his glass in toast. "Well done, Scott Cullen, you cracked the case."
Wilkinson looked bemused as he raised his glass.
Bain turned round to the barman and ordered a pint of Stella.
"How have I cracked the case?" said Cullen.
"You just linked him to Gail McBride," said Bain. "That's fuckin' good work."
"How did you find out?" said Cullen.
"Irvine just told me," said Bain. "Really good effort there, Sundance. Think I can charge Thomson with killing Gail McBride as well."
"You know my thoughts on that," said Cullen.
"None of that, Sundance," said Bain. "We're celebrating. It's not often we catch the fucker in the act and this time we have."
Bain handed him his pint.
"Where's DCI Turnbull?" said McNeill.
"Updating the Chief Constable just now," said Bain. "Should be over here soon. It's his card behind the bar and Miller's already been taking liberties."
McNeill took a sip of wine. "I take it you're pleased, then?"
Bain grinned. "Oh, fuck aye." He turned round and started chatting to Irvine about the Rangers match.
Cullen backed away from the bar and started on his pint, sinking half of it in two quick gulps.
; McNeill moved over to join him. "You've done well."
Cullen shrugged. "I don't think I have."
"If Jim's on a conference call with the Chief Constable, you'll be getting credit at that level. There's not many of us get that sort of attention."
She was close to him, her eyes locked on his. Cullen wasn't sure what to do.
"Come on, Sharon, I've just made sure the wrong man is tried for this. Well, maybe not even the wrong man. Someone's going to be tried for the murders without real evidence. And I'm the one that's given Bain most of the stuff he's using. That he's misusing, even abusing."
"He was caught red handed," said McNeill.
"Have we got any witnesses to him stabbing her?" said Cullen. "No. He left work at the back of seven, right?"
"Aye. Got it on CCTV backed up with his security pass."
"We arrived at the flat at eight o'clock," said Cullen. "That's a hell of a lot of activity for one hour. He walked home from work, killed his girlfriend, then we get a 999, our boys pop round, catch him."
McNeill closed her eyes. "I don't have the energy for this, Scott. If you're right, the best we can hope for is it gets thrown out of court."
Cullen took a sip of beer. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was pushing this too hard. Maybe he needed a break. He sighed. "I'm not happy about it."
"Me neither. Just try and enjoy the limelight for now. We'll sort something out tomorrow."
"I finally got hold of Duncan Wilson," said Cullen. "He told me he heard about the death threats from Kim Milne."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, he used to work with her at Alba Bank."
McNeill stared into space. "The plot thickens."
Cullen held up his glass and clinked it with hers. "Well, here's cheers."
McNeill raised an eyebrow. "This doesn't get you off that drink, by the way."
"I'd hoped it hadn't," said Cullen. "Let's set a date and time."
"Tomorrow after work?" said McNeill. "Whenever that is."