by Ed James
Bain screwed his face up. "No, I think he's got a lot of talking to do to get out of that one."
"It was just the words of Gibson and Mulgrew against him," said Cullen. "You've spoken to the bus driver. He picked up Jamie Cook and confirmed that he saw Mandy Gibson alive, going into Mulgrew's cottage. We've got statements covering Cook's movements from then on. Mulgrew seems to have been involved in Mandy's death. We really need to speak to Gibson, now."
"Hold your horses, Sundance," said Bain. "All that the bus driver said was that he saw someone matching Gibson's description carrying Mandy inside. She could have been dead already. Cook could have killed her beforehand."
"What about the teddy bear?"
"Well, exactly."
"Eh?"
Bain shook his head. "Come on, Sundance," said Bain. "She leaves home in the middle of the night, gets abducted by Cook. He kills her, then dumps the body in that lane. Her old man finds her, rushes her to Mulgrew's to see if his exorcism skills stretch to resurrection. Meanwhile, Cook has escaped and is getting the bus to Haddington to lie low. He sees Gibson take his daughter in, points it out to the bus driver so he's got an alibi. Misdirection at its finest."
Cullen shook his head. "Amazing," he said, "and not a single piece of evidence."
"We'll get evidence," said Bain. "There's something I've been reminding Jim Turnbull. This is only day two. We can be lookin' for evidence for months. We've got time."
"You haven't."
"Aye, well, we'll see what Jim has to say when I give him a collar," said Bain. "Cargill can get to fuck." He checked his watch. "Do you want to lead this?"
"Okay," said Cullen, getting a sinking feeling that he was at the centre of Bain's game.
*
Cullen sat in the chair that Bain had previously occupied. Cook looked like he had been asleep. He had his head on the desk and tapped a rhythm out with his fingers. McLintock sat beside him, legs crossed, scribbling away on a notepad which nestled on his briefcase. PC Buxton stood by the door.
"Are you okay, Jamie?" asked Cullen.
"Course he is," muttered Bain.
"My client is ready," said McLintock.
"Aye," said Cook. "Get on with it."
Cullen started recording. "Interview with Jamie Colin Cook," he said. "Interview commenced at 20.10 on Tuesday the 24th January 2012." He listed the attendees.
"Jamie," said Cullen, "can you tell me about your relationship with Seamus Mulgrew?"
Cook bit his lip. "No, I don't want to."
"I understand that there may be personal reasons for not wishing to," said Cullen, "but you are the chief suspect for the murder of Seamus Mulgrew. Can you detail your relationship with Father Mulgrew, please?"
"No."
Cullen looked at Bain, who just shrugged.
"My client does not need to answer that question," said McLintock, looking up from his notepad. His eyes peered over the chunky DKNY-branded glasses he wore.
Cullen took a deep breath then looked at Cook for a few seconds. "Okay, Jamie, let's try again, shall we?" he said. "I just met with Steven Young. He said that you left the pub at around eight o'clock on Monday night."
Cook's eyes lit up. "What?"
"The bar staff at the Pheasant in Haddington backed that up as well."
Cook shared a look with McLintock.
"Well, did you or didn't you?" asked Cullen.
"No comment," said McLintock. He tore his glasses off and stared at Cullen.
"Jamie, where did you go?"
"Who have you spoken to?" asked Cook. "Spider?"
"Not yet, but we will."
"What I'll tell you is that me and Spider went out to get some hash from his mate," said Cook. "We were only gone half an hour, maybe three quarters of an hour."
Cullen glanced at Bain – he was grinding his teeth. "When you say hash, Jamie," said Cullen, "do you mean cannabis?"
Cook sat in silence for a while. "Yes," he eventually said. "Marijuana. Dope. Hash."
"Thank you for your honesty, Jamie," said Cullen.
Bain tapped at the table. Cullen looked at him. Bain gestured to the door. Cullen paused the interview.
Out in the corridor, Bain was rubbing at his moustache. "Think this is right?" he asked.
"No idea," said Cullen. "Sounds plausible."
"Right, right," said Bain, nodding. "Good effort in there, by the way."
Lamb appeared from behind Bain. "What's going on?" he asked
"We have a gap in Jamie Cook's statement," said Bain. "Funnily enough it's when he could have killed Mulgrew."
"Jesus Christ," said Cullen.
"We need to speak to some mate of Steven Young's called Spider," said Cullen.
"Spider?" asked Lamb. "Simon Spink?"
"That's the one," said Cullen. "Cook is claiming that he and Spider went off somewhere to get hash."
Lamb nodded. "Murray's just found him," he said.
forty-one
Spider had just left his office when DC Murray caught up with him.
To Cullen, this was their first real break. Simon Spink - Spider - worked at the Scottish Gas call centre in Granton. He did compressed hours - his thirty-five split across four days rather than five, making a three day weekend starting Friday nights. His shifts were ten till eight thirty, covering everyone else's post-work calls.
Murray had driven over from Garleton and brought him up to Leith Walk. They were in the room they had interviewed Jamie Cook's parents in, Cullen and Murray sitting across from Spink.
Cullen could see why he was nicknamed Spider - he had incredibly long arms and legs and a short torso. He was skinny - skeletal - head shaved and a silver hoop in one ear. Spink spoke very fluently and eloquently, years of call centre training reprogramming the guttural Haddington accent.
"Mr Spink," said Cullen, "I believe that you are acquainted with one Steven Young of Haddington. Is that right?"
"That is correct," said Spink.
"And a Jamie Cook of Garleton," said Cullen.
"We're acquainted," said Spink, "but I wouldn't say that we know each other, if you catch my drift."
"We have reason to believe that you were drinking with Mr Young and Mr Cook in Haddington on Monday night," said Cullen.
"Aye, at the Pheasant," said Spink. "It isn't my favourite bar in the town but it's one of the few that'll let those two over the threshold."
"We are investigating a murder case for which Jamie Cook is the primary suspect," said Cullen, "so I would like to point out the seriousness of this investigation. We would like you to recount your movements on Monday night from when you met up with Mr Young and Mr Cook."
"Can I have my lawyer in here, please?"
"You are not under police caution, Mr Spink," said Cullen, "and therefore you do not need a lawyer present. Can I ask why you want one?"
Spink looked away. "No reason," he said.
"I will ask again," said Cullen, "can you go through your movements from meeting at the Pheasant."
"Fine," said Spink. He sat forward and cradled his fingers on the table top. "I'd arranged to meet Stevie at the back of four for a couple of pints. You know that I don't work Mondays. It was the end of my weekend and I wanted a few beers to get through the night - I usually don't sleep well before I go back in after the weekend. I got to the pub at the back of four and had a pint on my own while I waited. They pitched up at about twenty past."
"And how did they appear?" asked Cullen.
"They didn't look too good," said Spink. "They looked like they'd already been out drinking all day."
"And had they?"
"I think they'd been out the night before."
"You think?" asked Cullen.
"Aye, well, they said they had been up till stupid o'clock drinking, if that's what you mean."
"Thank you," said Cullen. "Please go on."
"So they appeared at the back of four," said Spink. "After that we got into some pretty crazy drinking. Stevie was firing into the pint
s at a rate of knots."
"What about Jamie?" asked Cullen.
"Jamie was drinking a fair amount."
"Can I ask who was buying?"
"We had a kitty going," said Spink. "Started off with a tenner each, think I spent thirty in total."
"Who was going to the bar?" asked Cullen.
Spink thought it through for a few seconds. "We all were," he said. "Jamie was going the most."
Cullen realised that Bain's pet theory about lager tops was starting to look likely.
"We believe that Jamie left the pub at about eight o'clock," said Cullen. "Can you confirm or deny that?"
"No comment," said Spink.
"I'm sorry?"
"No comment."
"Mr Spink," said Cullen, his voice rising like Bain's would, "can I remind you that we are investigating a double murder here and Mr Cook's whereabouts are of the utmost importance."
"And I said no comment."
"Mr Cook said that he went to procure cannabis," said Cullen. "Is that correct?"
"If you want anything out of me," said Spink, "I want a lawyer present."
Cullen sighed. "Interview terminated at 20.32."
*
"You fuckin' beauty," said Bain.
They were back in the Incident room. Watson was on tea duty again and the kettle had just boiled - a fresh carton of milk had appeared. Cullen was briefing Bain, Lamb, Irvine and Caldwell on the interview with Simon Spink - at no point referring to him as Spider.
"Steady," said Cullen. "He's refused to co-operate. It isn't the case that he's told us Cook's alibi was a pack of lies."
"It's not that bit I'm worried about," said Bain, "it's the soft drinks that Cook could have been buying."
"Spink told us that Cook had been buying some of their rounds, that's all," said Cullen. "We don't know that he drank soft drinks to stay sober."
Bain had that look - Cullen knew it too well - eyes flicking around and nostrils flared out wide. He took a deep breath. "We've interviewed the bar staff, right?" he asked.
"My boys did it," said Lamb.
"Christ, that's all we need," muttered Bain. "They'll have made a total arse of it."
Lamb stood and looked at Bain for a few seconds. Cullen thought that they were going to explode again.
Lamb looked around the room - Watson was standing by the sink, staring into space and mashing a teabag.
"Watson," called Lamb. The junior officer looked over.
Watson hurried over. "What is it, sir?"
"Come here," barked Bain.
Watson looked nervously at Cullen. "I thought that Murray had found Simon Spink?"
"Relax," said Lamb, "he found him."
"You interviewed the bar staff at the Pheasant, isn't that right?" asked Lamb.
Watson nodded.
"What we want to know, sonny," said Bain, "is if you asked the bar staff what Jamie Cook had been drinking?"
"Don't think we did," said Watson. "We found out that he hadn't been there for about an hour."
Bain repeated the look. "Right, Constable," he said, "can you get your arse back out there and speak to them again. I want confirmation that Jamie Cook bought a soft drink in every round and I count lager tops in that."
"What's lager tops?" asked Watson.
"A fuckin' shandy," shouted Bain.
Just then, Bain's mobile rang. He swore when he looked at the display. "Just on my way up, Jim," said Bain, marching out of the room. "Think we've just about got him for Mulgrew."
*
"I heard Bain's up to his usual tricks," said Charlie Kidd.
"How have you heard that?" asked Cullen.
"Word travels fast in this place, ken?" said Kidd. He smiled. "Especially if everyone's favourite DI is involved."
Cullen smiled.
They were sitting at Kidd's desk on the top floor of the Leith Walk station. Kidd was an Analyst in the Technical Investigation Unit, primarily responsible for all IT-related investigation. Kidd was one of two officers allocated to Turnbull and his three teams. The part of the floor devoted to Technical Investigation was continuing its steady decline into the entropy of chaos that always seemed to follow IT departments. Kidd's large desk, in addition to the large desktop PC and associated peripherals, was covered in the carcasses and innards of various PCs and laptops. Cullen recognised the Dell desktop they had removed from Jamie Cook's bedroom. The hard drive was connected up to Kidd's own PC.
"What have you been hearing, then?" asked Cullen.
Kidd played with his ponytail for a few seconds. "Heard that a new DI is supposed to be on the case as of tomorrow," he said.
"Bad news travels faster than the speed of light," said Cullen.
"Tell me about it," said Kidd. "I'm just getting used to how Bain operates. Christ knows that we don't need another Bain running around with different stupid questions."
"I'm with you there," said Cullen. "Have you not had any dealings with Cargill, then?"
Kidd shook his head. "Not had the pleasure yet," he said. "It's usually one of her cronies." He looked hard at Cullen. "If you're here chasing me up about that Mulgrew's PC, then I told Bain that it's so old that it can't connect to the internet and it doesn't have any pictures on it."
Cullen raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know that Mulgrew's PC had been taken in."
"Aye, doesn't even have Windows XP on it, man," said Kidd. "Can't believe that it still turns on."
Cullen nodded. "Fine." He gestured at the desk. "Jamie Cook's PC?"
"It is, aye," said Kidd. "Been a bloody nightmare, ken?"
"We could have done with some leads while we were still looking for him."
"Very good, Cullen," said Kidd. "The problem is that it's not like he's been sleekit with his data, just that he doesn't seem to do much on the computer."
"How do you mean?"
"The only emails I found were pretty uninteresting," said Kidd. "Updates to Schoolbook and Twitter, feedback requests from Amazon or eBay."
"Nothing more interesting than my own account," said Cullen.
Kidd laughed. "Aye," he said. "Trouble is, though, this is a teenager in the middle of nowhere. He must be bored out of his fuckin' heid."
"Have you been in his Schoolbook account?" asked Cullen, recalling what his mother told him.
Kidd didn't reply for a few seconds. "I'm not going back in there without Bain and the PF sitting next to me," he said, referring to the Schoolbook case the previous summer. "I've managed to get some info by trawling his emails. Got some leads for you." Kidd handed Cullen a print-out. "Here."
Cullen read through the list of ten or so names - it would have been useful earlier but they'd since spoken to them all. Kirsty-Jane Platt, Steven Young, Keith Green, Alan McArthur as well as others from Garleton, such as Thomas Gibson and Malcolm Thornton, had already been interviewed.
Cullen leaned back in the chair and folded up the sheet. "Thanks," he said. "If nothing else it means that there aren't any last minute surprises."
"Aye, your speciality," said Kidd.
Cullen stood up. "Better head back down and see what sort of arse-kicking Bain got off Turnbull."
*
Just after Cullen reached the Incident Room, Bain returned from Turnbull's office wearing a smile. It was the last thing Cullen expected, given the circumstances of the afternoon. He grabbed Cullen and Lamb and led them to the Interview room. "Jim is impressed with our progress," he said.
"You did give him the warnings that I gave you twenty minutes ago, right?" said Cullen.
Bain glared at him as they walked down the stairs. "Jim's not a detail man," he said. "When you get to my position, you'll appreciate how to manage upwards."
"So what are we doing now then?" asked Cullen.
"We need to find out what the fuck happened here, Sundance," said Bain. "This is a real fuckin' mess. Can you probe him on Mulgrew?"
"He totally blocked us off last time," said Cullen.
"I fuckin' know he did," sai
d Bain. "This is your big chance to shine. You might make a passable 'good cop'."
"Cheers," said Cullen, hoping Bain caught the sarcasm in his voice.
They entered the room and sat down, Cullen and Bain across from Cook and McLintock, Lamb off to the side, Buxton standing by the door. Cullen started the interview.
"Jamie," said Cullen, "I need to ask you about Seamus Mulgrew."
"Fuck him," said Cook. "He's better off dead."
"What my client means," said McLintock, "is that there was no love lost between him and the deceased but that the antagonism was all from the deceased's perspective."
"How would pissing against the wall of the deceased's church fit into that?" asked Bain.
"If I can please continue the line of questioning," said Cullen.
Bain raised his hands in mock defeat. "Fire away."
Cullen smiled at Cook, trying to buy into his favour. "You seem to have had a history with Father Mulgrew," he said. "He told me yesterday that you had the devil in you."
Cook said nothing.
"No comment from my client," said McLintock. "I would like that to be formally recorded."
"Jamie, you need to speak here," said Cullen. "DI Bain is quite keen on charging you with the murder of Father Mulgrew. I think it's in your best interests to speak to us right now and clear up any ambiguity."
"No comment," said Cook.
Cullen lay his hands face up on the table. "You need to realise how much trouble you are in here," he said. "If you are convicted for murder, you are looking at a minimum of twelve years imprisonment with good behaviour. Given your age, you might be put in a young offenders' for a couple of years if you're lucky. But I'd expect at least ten years in mainstream prisons. I've been inside them, as have DI Bain and DS Lamb. These are not nice places - a boy like you from a well-off background will be popular in there."
"Can you please stop with the clichés?" asked McLintock. "You are threatening my client with a sentence when you have not presented us with one shred of accredited evidence so far."
"Jamie," said Cullen, ignoring McLintock. "You are taking a big risk here with your future and your life. Mr McLintock is only taking a financial risk here."
"I do not appreciate the insinuation that I am a 'No Win, No Fee' lawyer," said McLintock. "The terms and conditions of my engagement are confidential to myself, my client and his parents."