by Ed James
"Do you ever speak to him?" asked Cullen.
The boy shook his head. "Mum told me not to," he said. "He's a weirdo."
"In what way?"
The boy shrugged. "She wouldn't say. I think it's the bible stuff."
"What bible stuff is this?" asked Lamb.
"He used to put things through our letter box," said the boy. "Books and papers and things like that. Mum just shoved them straight in the bin."
"Does he ever speak to you?"
The boy shook his head even more vigorously than before. "The only time that I heard him speaking was when he was out shouting at Dean and Kieron."
"Who are they?" asked Lamb.
"They live round here."
"Are they the boys that don't go to school?" asked Cullen.
The boy nodded.
"Thanks," said Cullen. He doubted he'd do anything with it, but it was good to have names for the kids he spoke to earlier.
The boy smiled. "Can I ride in a police car?" he asked.
Cullen laughed. "Even I don't get to ride in a police car," he said. "I have to use my own." He pointed to his Golf. "See, that's my car."
The boy frowned. "Is it GTI?"
Cullen shook his head. "Just a standard one."
"Can't you afford a better car?"
Lamb laughed. "Time to get on home to your mother," he said.
The boy smiled and walked off, heading down the path to the last house before Mulgrew's.
"I feel positively enlightened," said Lamb.
"How?"
"Even a little ned from the worst bit of this town thinks your car is crap."
*
"Gather round," called Bain, standing at the front of the room, hands in his pockets. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened off, his suit jacket casually hanging from the back of a chair. Cullen thought that his skin looked whiter than its usual grey pallor.
They were in the Incident Room - Bain, Irvine, Lamb, Murray, McLaren, Law and a couple of uniforms, including PC Watson, the one who had been keeping guard at Balgone Ponds. Cullen was standing near Bain.
Bain waited till everyone was looking at him. Most were leaning against walls or furniture. Lamb rocked slowly back and forth on a desk chair, his legs crossed. Bain took a sip of his Red Bull clone. He had lain off the Red Bull of late, just the one can a day, but Cullen saw him drink one that morning. He had experienced first hand what happened when Bain was all caffeined out of his head.
"Right," said Bain, "I've just got the results of the PM just now. It's not looking too good, I'm afraid." He held up a thick wad of paper, at least fifty sheets of A4 - some sections had already been highlighted in yellow. "Jimmy Deeley's secretary has just faxed over a copy of the transcript. Fortunately, the fax machine is the one thing that works in this station." He pulled cheap-looking reading glasses out of his top pocket and put them on - Cullen had never seen him wear them before. He squinted at the paper as he read aloud.
"The cause of death is asphyxiation," read Bain. "Several signs point to suffocation - there are a couple of Tardieu Spots on the victim's liver, consistent with death by suffocation. Additionally, there are minor contusions to the wrists but not to the throat or face which could point to signs of struggling. From the shape and size of the bruising, we can tell that these contusions were inflicted perimortem, i.e. around the time of death. From this I deduce that the most likely method of suffocation is with a pillow, though I would look to forensic confirmation from the scene of crime officers. Initial analysis points to white cotton being present in her gums, which confirms the theory. We have not found any traces under the fingernails but samples will be analysed."
Bain took his glasses off and looked around the room. "For those of you who aren't as well-versed in the arts of the post-mortem as myself," he said, looking directly at Lamb, "what that translates to is that she was suffocated with a pillow and it looks like she had been held down while it happened."
He put the glasses on again. "Time of death is hard to pin down, due to the environmental circumstances surrounding the discovery of the body, but I would put it as any time between ten PM on Sunday night and four AM this morning."
Bain leaned back against the desk and put his glasses down on the table beside a yellow highlighter. "Believe you me," he said, "I will be up James Anderson's trouser leg like a fuckin' ferret to get some of the forensic analysis accelerated. We may be able to get samples of the pillow used or some trace evidence from the fingernails."
Bain took a long deep breath. "One of the things that we didn't expect Deeley to find, however, was that the girl was not a virgin."
fifteen
"You what?" said Lamb, suddenly sitting forward in his seat. "She wasn't a virgin?"
Cullen was stunned. He felt dizzy - this case was taking a turn for the worse. So far, he'd been in information-gathering mode and now they were dealing with something even worse than child murder; child rape and murder.
"Her hymen was not intact," said Bain, "which is not conclusive in and of itself. However, Deeley found several factors pointing to the fact that she had been penetrated, most likely by a penis."
"That's a pretty bold statement for Deeley to make," said Lamb, still sitting bolt upright. "I've seen that sort of stuff before and it can fall apart in court."
Bain gave a sharp nod. "I know," he said. "Believe me, I've given him a pretty thorough grilling on this. I dealt with a fuckin' mercy killing in Glasgow about fifteen years ago where an Indian lassie was killed 'cos she wasn't a virgin. Similar shite happened there as here. It turned out that the lassie had burst it while riding a horse." He fixed Lamb with a glare. "Deeley is pretty certain on this one. There are sufficient physical deformations to suggest that she had been sexually active."
"Hang on," said Cullen, "are you saying that she was sexually assaulted before or after she was killed?"
Bain shook his head. "It doesn't look like she was," he said. "Deeley only said that she showed signs of having been sexually active. There was no trace evidence pointing to the potential of her being raped last night, no pubic hairs, semen, blood, anything like that."
"What do you want us to do, gaffer?" asked Irvine, casually pounding away on gum.
Bain stroked his moustache. "I want to speak to the parents," he said. "I want Cullen and Lamb with me. I want the rest of you to do some digging in the town, speak to people and get some more info on this." He looked at Law. "What about that behavioural psychologist?" he asked. "Did you get anywhere with it?"
Law nodded. "Finally managed to speak to her," she said. "She said that they didn't find anything conclusive that caused Mandy to try to run away. She put it down to a result of the trauma she'd suffered in the accident. I've asked for a copy of the report but..."
"Sounds like you'd be wasting your time," said Bain, finishing her sentence for her.
The room sat in silence, all of the officers avoiding each others' gazes. Caldwell appeared through the door to the Incident Room and nervously looked around at the faces. She clutched a wad of papers tightly to her chest.
"Sir," said Caldwell.
"Here she is," said Bain, looking at Cullen, "Batgirl coming in to save the day despite Batman telling her to stay in the Batmobile."
Caldwell rolled her eyes. "That's going to get you into trouble one of these days," she said.
Normally there would have been laughter at Bain being taken down a peg or two by an ADC but there was little or no reaction, given the circumstances.
"I've done some digging into police records like you asked," she said.
"Go on," said Bain. "You might as well tell half of East Lothian so I don't have to."
She started reading from the first sheet. "For the Gibsons, there's not much," she said. "There's a report about Mandy being involved in an accident with a bus in Edinburgh by the looks of it."
"That ties in with what we were told," said Cullen.
"This better be going somewhere," said Bain, slowly
shaking his head.
"Now, Seamus Mulgrew," she said, ignoring Bain. "I got an email through just now about him from the Garda."
"The Garda?" echoed Irvine. "Eh?"
"Mulgrew came across to Scotland nine years ago," she said, "he lived in Ireland before."
"What were you bothering them about?" asked Irvine.
"Something funny happened," she said. "Mulgrew had said he was in the Roman Catholic Church. I tracked him down to a town just outside Cork. I asked the local Garda if they knew anything about the circumstances of his departure."
Cullen was beginning to be impressed by Caldwell - Irvine was being a cock but she was keeping professional, avoiding rising to the bait.
"You found something?" asked Bain.
"Aye," said Caldwell. "The email says that he was laicized."
"What the fuck's that?" asked Irvine.
"I didn't know what that meant either, so I looked it up on the internet," she said. "It says it means that he was defrocked, chucked out of the church."
"What for?" asked Bain.
"It says in the report that he had substantial gambling debts," she said.
"And that's it?" asked Bain, his face like thunder.
"Thought you'd like to know," said Caldwell.
"Something doesn't tie up with this boy," said Bain. "I've got some contacts in the Garda that I'll tap up, see what I can find." He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood there, stock still for what felt to Cullen like minutes. "Right," he said, eventually. He took a deep breath. "There's two possibilities for Mandy's death that I can think of. First, the parents are involved, so I don't want to go directly to them just yet, not until we have some more evidence. Second, Jamie Cook's been at her."
"Do you want me to raise any other possibilities?" asked Cullen.
"No," said Bain, eyes aflame. "Forget about going to see Gibson, we'll do that later. Right now, I want you and Lamb to go and see Mulgrew and see if you can find out more about this exorcism business."
*
The God's Rainbow building looked to Cullen like it was once a shop. At some point the entire front had been painted bright yellow, except for a rainbow band the full width of the building. Up close, the rainbow looked cheap and badly painted. There was no advertising outside - Cullen had never seen a religious organisation that hadn't tried to spread the word through aggressive street marketing. The door had an elaborate security system which Lamb circumvented by hammering his fist against the door.
They waited almost thirty seconds, Lamb hammering twice more, before Mulgrew finally opened the door.
He beamed at them. "Officers, how can I help you?"
Lamb pushed him aside and entered the building.
They were in the main part of the church. It was obviously a chapel, with a wooden pulpit at the far end, though it was not grand in any sense - rather than oak, flagstones and gold, the room had instead been furnished with MDF, concrete and steel. The room was surprisingly bright, given that the windows on the front had been painted over. It was open to the rafters in the roof and the back half was a large window, drowning the room in sunlight. There was space for about forty people at a push, Cullen figured.
Lamb stopped in the middle of the room and turned around.
"It's not such a nice day out, is it?" asked Mulgrew, catching up.
"We need to ask you some questions," said Cullen, before Lamb could start.
"Please, come into my office," said Mulgrew, gesturing them through a door to the side of the pulpit.
They followed him into a small, dark room. The walls were a mixture of old wallpaper and bare plaster. In the middle sat a reasonably large white desk with enough space for two people to sit across from Mulgrew. The desk had copies of the Bible, the Torah and the Koran, all heavily read, with place marks protruding out. The wall behind Mulgrew was shelved, with the left half crammed with old books. The right half of the shelf was taken up with multiple copies of glossy pamphlets with titles such as 'Teenage Abortion' and 'Immigration'.
"Fire away, then," said Mulgrew, now sitting at his desk.
"We believe that you weren't entirely honest with us this morning," said Cullen.
"Oh?" Mulgrew's face was set in a serious frown.
"We have some information that suggests that you conducted an exorcism on Mandy Gibson yesterday at your religious ceremony."
Mulgrew rubbed his temples. He didn't say anything for at least thirty seconds.
"Father Mulgrew," said Cullen.
"Yes," he said, finally. "Her parents asked me not to mention this to anyone. It's a private matter."
"Doesn't sound like a private matter if it happened in a public place," said Cullen, "and the victim of the exorcism then turns up dead."
Mulgrew squinted his eyes at Cullen. "She was not a victim of an exorcism; she was the beneficiary. She was the victim of demonic possession."
"She was not possessed," snapped Cullen. "She was mentally handicapped. She was hit by a bus."
"We discussed this earlier," said Mulgrew.
"You said that you could perform an exorcism," said Cullen. "Somehow, it slipped your mind that you had performed one on Mandy."
Mulgrew smiled. He grumbled to his feet and retrieved a pamphlet. "Listen to me," he said in a patronising tone, "the Catholic Church shies away from it nowadays, but it is something that still absolutely needs to happen, especially in this day and age."
He tossed the pamphlet on the table between them. Cullen picked it up and looked at it; 'Demonic Possession & Exorcism: Cure All of Your Ills'. It looked very shoddy - typos and poor layout - though the paper stock was of a high quality.
"I believe that you have one-on-one counselling sessions with your Parishioners," said Cullen. "Does this include exorcism?"
Mulgrew closed his eyes. "Only in exceptional circumstances," he said, "like with Mandy and only with absolute agreement with any parents or guardians."
"So this counselling includes only the younger members?" asked Lamb.
"No, it's the full Parish," replied Mulgrew.
"How many exorcisms have you carried out in your time here?" asked Cullen.
"Not a single one until yesterday, unfortunately," said Mulgrew.
"What about on Jamie Cook?" asked Cullen, flicking through his notebook. "This morning you told me that he had the devil himself inside him. Isn't that enough for an exorcism?"
Mulgrew looked away. "I have a strong faith," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. Cullen and Lamb both leaned in close. "I know that I have the good Lord on my side but I am just one man. I need my word to spread if I am to be able to take on Lucifer himself."
Lamb had been rolling his fingers on the table in a repeating pattern, seemingly growing increasingly frustrated with Mulgrew. "Mandy's postmortem has been completed," he said. "There were signs of sexual abuse."
Mulgrew almost spat. "Abuse?"
"As I said," said Lamb, slowly and calmly.
"What are you saying?" asked Mulgrew.
"I'm wondering if you knew anything about it," said Cullen.
Mulgrew leaned across the table, his left hand pointing at Lamb. "Just because I'm a religious man, you can't come in accusing me of being a child molester," roared Mulgrew. Spittle dribbled down the side of his mouth. He looked at Cullen. "Both times I've met you, Mr Cullen, you have attacked my faith. I know your sort. You try to undermine that which we children of God hold dear, like that bus in London, or that infernal Dawkins man. Come judgment day, you will all burn in Hell."
Cullen smiled. He felt that something wasn't quite right. "Father, I was asking if you knew anything about it, not whether you'd done it."
"I'm afraid there's not much I can add," said Mulgrew.
"Nothing at all?"
Mulgrew rubbed his forehead then let out a deep sigh. "Have you spoken to Jamie Cook yet?"
Lamb was looking at the table. "Not yet," he said. Cullen thought that he looked reluctant to admit that they couldn't find him.
>
"Right you are." Mulgrew scratched the back of his head for at least ten seconds. "I really should not be doing this but I suppose I have to." He took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling and whispered something to himself or his God. "Earlier, you alluded to my counselling sessions. These sessions were supposed to be confidential, as you can imagine. However, in cases where I have information that might... help, or assist, with something... And I suppose a murder investigation would fit. Then I suppose... I have to... part with the information and deal with the sin in my personal correspondence with the Lord."
"Spit it out, Seamus," snapped Lamb.
"In the sessions with Jamie Cook," he said, "he would talk about the troubles which constantly plagued him. From the age of about... 14, maybe 15, he had fantasies of molesting children."
sixteen
"And Jamie Cook told you this?" asked Cullen.
Mulgrew hung his head heavily in his hands, his elbows dropping on the desk. "Yes," he said, with a whimper.
"And did he mention Mandy Gibson?"
Mulgrew took a deep breath. "Just the once."
Lamb had a look of abject disgust on his face. "What did he say, Seamus?" he asked.
"It was a fantasy about taking her to a shack somewhere," said Mulgrew, "away from everyone and doing what he wanted to her."
"Have you any idea where this shack is?" asked Cullen.
"No," said Mulgrew, his voice a croak.
"Did you suggest any action that he might take?" asked Lamb.
Mulgrew took a deep breath. "I suggested that he refrain from masturbation," he said, "and to have no contact with any children."
"Did he heed the advice, do you know?"
"As to the first, who knows," said Mulgrew. "I would very much doubt it. The second, well, he flagrantly violated that. He has a brother and sister - the poor things are eleven. The Lord alone knows what he did to them."
"Have you had any counselling with them?" asked Cullen.
"I do," said Mulgrew, "on a monthly basis for the moment. Neither of them has mentioned anything, though, and they seem perfectly balanced. That's not to say that it hasn't happened to them..."