by Ed James
Campbell McLintock sat next to Jamie Cook, wearing a turquoise shirt and yellow tie under a dark green suit. It was easily the worst combination that Cullen had ever seen McLintock wear - he usually had some vague trace of sartorial elegance. Cullen and Bain had dealt with him before - he was notorious throughout Lothian & Borders for being disruptive and manipulative. Recent changes to the Scottish legal system as a result of the Cadder case played into McLintock's hands – the appeal case fundamentally changed the Scottish legal system, requiring lawyers present at all interviews.
"Jamie," said Bain.
There was no response from Cook.
McLintock addressed Bain. "Inspector, it is clear to all present that my client is not in a fit state to answer questions. I would suggest that you defer this until such a time as my client is sufficiently recovered."
"I'll be the judge of that," said Bain.
"Jamie," said Bain, louder.
He looked round at them. "Mm?"
"Jamie," said Bain, "do you know why you are here?"
"Police brutality?"
"Inspector," said McLintock, "this is unacceptable. You are breaching several points of the law. This is harming your case more than my client's defence."
Bain ignored McLintock. "Listen, sonny," he snarled at Cook. "I've sat for ten minutes watching you dribble, you need to speak to us now."
Cook had an impudent look on his face. "Aren't you listening to my lawyer?" he slurred.
"We need to ask you some serious questions," said Bain, "and you are going to answer them. Now, are you going to co-operate?"
"Aye, whatever," said Cook, looking bored.
Lamb locked Bain in a steely glare. He turned to Cook. "Jamie, we need you to go through your movements since Sunday morning," he said, "from when you left the police station in Garleton."
"What day is it?" asked Cook.
"It's Tuesday," answered Bain.
"Inspector," said McLintock, "I really must insist that you close this interview down now and we reconvene once my client is more temporaneously aware."
The boy sat there silent, staring into space, still smirking. Bain stared at McLintock, silently fuming.
"Sir," said Cullen.
Bain shot a look at Cullen. Cullen gestured to the door. Bain paused the interview and left the room. Cullen and Lamb followed, leaving Buxton alone with Cook and McLintock.
Outside in the hall, Bain started pacing back and forwards.
"You need to listen to McLintock for once," said Cullen. "Jamie Cook is not in a fit state to be answering these questions. He is clearly off his face."
"Aye, well," said Bain, "we can get a formal statement later."
"Not with his lawyer present," said Cullen. "He'll tear you apart in court. He's right - this is harming us more than it is him. If he confesses now, it'll be on record how out of it the boy is. We need to wait until he is sufficiently sober to actually know what day it is."
Bain punched his fist into the wall, leaving a slight dent in the plasterboard. "We've not got the time, Cullen," he shouted. "I need to get a fuckin' collar and quick."
Cullen felt rage boil up. Bain was on borrowed time - the longer he took to make a formal charge, the more likely it was that Cargill would be put on the case. Turnbull would be under immense pressure from DCS Whitehead and ACC Duffin to make serious progress. The risk they'd taken in assigning the case to Bain was clearly not paying off. Bain was being pressurised into framing someone - regardless of guilt. It amazed Cullen how quickly he'd switched from Mulgrew to Cook as the prime suspect.
"Cullen's right," said Lamb. "This is not the way to do this."
"Right, well, what the fuck do you suggest then, Sergeant?" said Bain.
"We've got him here," said Lamb. "He is being detained. He's not going anywhere."
"You know what McLintock is playing at here, don't you?" said Bain.
"Enlighten me."
"He's playing for a release without charge," said Bain. "The way that boy is out of his face, he's not likely to be sober any time this week, let alone in the next eleven hours."
"You'll know yourself that there are a few ways we can play that game," said Lamb. "If we get him full of Red Bull or coffee, we'll stand a fighting chance."
Bain nodded his head slowly. "I've got a few cans up in my desk drawer," he said.
"Are you going to be allowed to extend the detention period?" asked Lamb.
"What do you fuckin' mean?"
"I mean, do you have to go to Turnbull if you want it extended or are you empowered?" asked Lamb.
Bain snorted. "Suppose I'll have to ask Jim."
"And do you think he'll extend it?"
"Doubt it," said Bain.
"You need to get on top of this," said Lamb. "Brian, you need to take charge of this case."
"Are you suggesting I'm not?" asked Bain.
"Shall we go back in and let McLintock know?" asked Cullen, trying to separate them.
Bain stroked his moustache. "Aye," he said. "This boy is involved with what's happened. There is something fishy going on and he is fuckin' stinkin'. He's goin' down for this."
Bain threw the door open and walked back into the interview room.
thirty-six
"Inspector," said Robert Cook, "you are holding our son without charge. You are aware of that?"
"Don't worry, Mr Cook," said Bain, "once your son has sobered up from his underage drinking session, we will continue the questioning and look to charge him forthwith."
Cullen, Bain and Lamb were in an interview room with Robert and Wilma Cook. The digital recorder blinked away.
"I see," said Robert Cook.
"Don't worry," said Bain. "Your lawyer will be present."
"Of course."
"It's somewhat unusual for Mr McLintock to have clients out your way," said Bain. "He's usually Edinburgh only."
"He comes highly recommended," said Cook. "It might not seem it to you but we only want the best for our son."
Bain grinned. "If that's the case, can I ask again why you were unaware of your son's movements over the last two days?" he asked.
Cook looked at Lamb. "Bill, can't you do something to stop this?" he asked, almost pleading.
"I'm afraid I can't," said Lamb. "Your son is the main suspect in a double murder."
"You can't think that Jamie killed Mandy and Seamus, can you?" asked Wilma Cook.
"Mrs Cook," said Bain, "we have sufficient evidence to suggest that your son is the main suspect in this case."
"But why?" asked Wilma.
"We are not at liberty to divulge that at present," said Bain.
"Come on, Bill," said Robert Cook. "Can't you do anything here? This is totally preposterous. You know Jamie. He's not a bad boy."
"His criminal record would suggest that he is," said Bain.
Cook closed his eyes. "Jamie has got himself involved in some mischief, that's all."
"He's got a record longer than my arm," said Bain.
"It's a big difference from underage drinking to murder," said Cook. "I'm begging you to reconsider this." Cullen noticed that Cook was still looking at Lamb.
"Mr Cook," said Bain, "can I request that you direct all questions to myself rather than my subordinate officers, please? I am the Senior Investigating Officer on two murder cases and I am leading this interview, not Sergeant Lamb."
"Very well," said Cook.
"Now, I will repeat the question," said Bain, "and this time I expect you to give me an answer. Why were you unable to assist Sergeant Lamb in tracing your son's movements over the last couple of days?"
"We did all that we could," said Cook. "Please, Bill, tell him."
Bain looked at Lamb. "Is this correct in your estimation, Sergeant?" he asked.
Lamb gave a nod. "I don't have any reason to think that they knew where Jamie has been," he said, "or that he'd gone into Edinburgh."
Cullen noticed Bain grinding his teeth together. "Thank you," he said. He looked a
t Cook. "And neither of you noticed that your son's car had disappeared from your front drive at some point today?"
Wilma Cook gave a sigh. "No, we didn't," she said.
"I already told you that I noticed it last night," said Cook, "but I didn't really think anything of it at the time."
Bain shook his head. "That has been noted."
"You're based in Edinburgh, aren't you?" asked Cook, eyes flicking between Bain and Lamb.
"I am," said Bain.
"So, I could ask the question of you as to why you hadn't identified yourself that Jamie was on your back doorstep?" asked Cook.
"That isn't what we are here to discuss," said Bain.
"Then what is?" asked Cook. "Sergeant Lamb asked us if we knew where Jamie was. We didn't. The so-called evidence that you are using to point him towards murdering two people, as far as I can tell, is the fact that we find it very difficult to know where Jamie is from moment to moment."
"Brian," said Lamb. "We should close this now. They didn't know where Jamie was, let's move on."
"Fine," said Bain, his glare lingering on Lamb. "Mr Cook, can you confirm your whereabouts last night."
"We've been over this already," said Cook. "We spoke on the phone this morning, didn't we?"
"Aye," said Bain. "Strangely enough, one of your neighbours spotted your car driving off last night, back of eight."
Cook's eyes bulged. "What?"
This was news to Cullen. Lamb's men had been left to do the door-to-door and find out if there had been anything unusual. Cullen sincerely hoped that this was not another example of Bain inventing evidence that he would later retract in the light of real facts. It was a risky gamble and one that had not paid off for him in the past. Bain had to be absolutely sure that Jamie Cook and his father were involved in the murder for it to work.
"I said, and I'm sure that the tape will confirm it," said Bain, "that we have a witness statement from one of your neighbours suggesting that you drove off at the back of eight and didn't return for another hour." Bain paused but Cook didn't fill the space. "As I explained this morning, we have another witness statement from the area near to where Seamus Mulgrew was killed. The statement concerns the description of a car, one that matches your own, driving away from a country lane towards North Berwick."
"Wilma, tell them," said Cook, face red and sweat dripping from his brow. "I was at home all evening."
Wilma Cook looked at her husband and nodded slowly. "He was at home all night," she said. "We watched 'Wall-E' with the twins."
"Mrs Cook," said Bain, "supplying a false alibi is a serious crime, you are aware of that, aren't you?"
"I am aware," she said. "I am not supplying a false alibi. I am telling the God's honest truth."
Bain sat back in his chair, folded his arms and stroked his moustache for a few seconds. "What can you tell us about Jamie's friends?" he asked, eyes quickly shifting to Robert Cook.
"We know next to nothing about the people that he hangs about with," replied Cook.
"Shouldn't you?"
"Inspector," said Cook, "if you've spoken to Father Mulgrew, God rest his soul, then you will have had confirmation that Jamie is possessed by the devil. There is nothing we can do about that."
Cullen could see Bain's hands gripping the edge of the table top. "Mr Cook," he said, his voice calm and level, "we have heard that story from Father Mulgrew but it is unfortunately inadmissible as evidence."
"Why?"
"We would need proof," said Bain, "something like horns growing out of the top of his skull or a big red tail."
"Are you discriminating against me on the grounds of my religion?" asked Cook.
"Perish the thought," said Bain. "I just can't substantiate your claims of a supernatural being having responsibility for two murders."
"Perhaps we should change the line of questioning," said Lamb.
"If the boy has the devil inside him," said Bain, "then surely he's capable of murder, isn't he?"
Cook moved to speak but didn't.
"Brian," said Lamb, "can we discuss this outside?"
Bain stared at him. "DS Lamb, I am not finished questioning Mr and Mrs Cook," said Bain.
"All the same, I would like to discuss this further," said Lamb, getting to his feet. "In private."
Lamb walked out of the door.
Bain terminated the interview. He sat back in his chair. "I will be back here in two minutes," he said to Robert Cook, point his finger at him. "Your story had better change." He left the room. Cullen followed.
Lamb was halfway down the corridor, leaning back against the wall, one foot resting on the wallpaper. "What the hell are you up to in there?" he asked when Bain and Cullen had caught up with him.
"What the fuck do you mean?" asked Bain.
"I have absolutely no idea what the hell you are trying to achieve here," said Lamb.
"I am trying to get to the bottom of what their fuckin' son has been doing," said Bain, "and who the fuck he's been killing."
"They clearly don't know where he's been or what he's been up to," said Lamb.
"This shite about the devil can go fuck itself," said Bain. "They are talking utter bollocks."
"That's as maybe, Brian," said Lamb, "but I don't think it's a good idea for a Detective Inspector to be criticising their religion. If this gets out into the press, you'll know all about it."
Bain took a deep breath. "All I'm trying to do is work out why they didn't know where their son was," he said. "Is that too hard to understand?"
"I'm not sure it's too clear from your approach," said Lamb. "It feels like you're accusing me of not doing my job properly."
"You what?"
"You heard."
Bain started laughing. "That's a classic," he said. "Poor wee Lamb, everybody's out to get him."
Cullen could see Lamb's nostrils flare. He suspected that Lamb would have heard had that particular jibe from the age of five through to eighteen every single day.
"Where did that stuff about the car come from?" asked Lamb.
Bain shrugged his shoulders. "A little bit of creative policing," he said, grinning.
"Brian, you've had my men out trying to ascertain his whereabouts," said Lamb. "The last thing we need is you putting yourself on the record stating that we have evidence that doesn't exist against someone."
Bain laughed. "There are many ways to cover that one up," he said. "That inexperienced wee ADC you've got, Law I think her name is, she could have written something down incorrectly and we didn't realise the error until later on."
Lamb held his gaze. "What are you trying to achieve here?"
Bain folded his arms and tilted his head to the side. "I am trying to glean information from the suspect's parents," he said.
"Okay, then," said Lamb, "what have you learned from them?"
"I've learned that they don't know what their son is up to half the time," said Bain, "and I know that they can't give him an alibi when I finally speak to him."
"Fair enough," said Lamb, slouching back against the wall and shaking his head.
Bain's nostrils flared. "I want to ask you something," he said. "What's all this 'Please, Bill' shite that's coming from Robert Cook there? Pretty close to him are you?"
"He's played golf with my brother a couple of times," said Lamb. "I met him once in the clubhouse at Archerfield. That's it. I've spoken to him more in the last day than I have in my life."
"For fuck's sake, Lamb," shouted Bain. "That sort of nonsense can get this thrown out of court."
"There's no need to register it," said Lamb, his voice calm.
"I'll let the procurator fiscal be the judge of that."
"Brian, I barely know the guy," said Lamb. "I have nothing to hide."
"I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't trying to protect your mate here," said Bain.
Lamb stood upright. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, it stands to reason," said Bain. He looked at Cullen. "Here, Sundance, how does this sound?"
"Leave me out of this," said Cullen.
"Oh come on, Sundance," said Bain. "Bill here is keeping the big, bad Bain away from his mate's son. It looks exactly like incompetence to anyone else but it's actually corruption."
"You fucking twat."
Lamb pushed Bain against the opposite wall, hand grabbing his throat. Bain choked. They struggled for a few seconds, then suddenly Bain wriggled free of Lamb's grip. He got behind Lamb, pulled his forearm around Lamb's throat.
Cullen tried to squeeze between them but received a kick in the knee from Lamb, as he elbowed Bain in the stomach. Bain loosened his grip on Lamb and bounced back off the wall.
Cullen put himself between them. "Stop it!" he shouted. He felt arms coming in from front and back. He was facing Lamb - he pushed him backwards, towards the wall. He started coming forward, trying to punch Bain.
"What is going on here?" boomed a voice from behind Bain.
They all turned around to see DCI Turnbull marching towards them.
"You three, my office, now!"
thirty-seven
They sat in Turnbull's office, the DCI bouncing his fountain pen on his desk. The door was shut but Cullen predicted it would keep nothing from Turnbull's secretary. Turnbull had led them upstairs without a word, head down as he marched on. Cullen had kept himself between Bain and Lamb all the way.
"What the hell was going on down there?" asked Turnbull, his voice loud.
No one answered.
"I do not expect to see that sort of behaviour in this station from criminals," he said, "let alone from three of my supposedly better officers."
He stared at each of them in turn. Cullen could feel his career going down the toilet.
"I want a drains up on what's going on out in Garleton," said Turnbull. "I keep hearing mixed messages from one of you every few minutes. Brian's doing this, Bill's doing that. You're both coming to me with problems and I need solutions. I want a helicopter view on this. I need to be able to drill down through the noise and understand what agenda points I need to pull into a meeting with the pair of you once we've achieved closure on this case. But I just can't. It's chaos." Turnbull took a deep breath. "And then I find out from Sergeant Mullen downstairs that you have a suspect in questioning here. I haven't been apprised of the situation."