Devil in the Detail (Scott Cullen Mysteries)

by Ed James

Spink looked over at his lawyer. He whispered in his ear. They talked back and forth for a few seconds. Finally, Stewart nodded his head slowly.

  "It was skunk," said Spink, slouching back. "Jamie and I went to get skunk. It was for personal use, I can assure you."

  Cullen knew that there was an influx of the super strength cannabis in the Lothians - the dope equivalent of special brew lager.

  "Can you provide the name of the supplier?" asked Cullen.

  Spink shook his head. "There is no chance I'm giving you that," he said. "I've given you what you wanted. Me and Jamie went to someone's house in Haddington and bought some skunk. It was half an ounce which is well within the realms of personal use."

  "Thank you, Mr Spink," said Cullen. "Can I get you to sign a statement with ADC Caldwell, please?"

  forty-four

  "How are you feeling?" asked Sharon.

  Cullen sat at his usual desk, on the phone to Sharon. Bain and Lamb were still in with Turnbull. Cullen had been to find her at her office but the whole team had already left for the evening. He phoned to tell her he would be late but had started unloading all the grisly details of the case. "I don't know," he said. His hands were shaking. His iPhone was on hands-free using the white ear buds.

  "You know you can get counselling for this stuff," she said. "You sound like you need it."

  "Yeah," he said. He always thought he was hard but this stuff was infinitely worse than two scumbags in Bathgate glassing each other.

  "Scott, you've been through a lot in the last six months," she said. "It's okay to get help."

  "I know," he said. "I've been getting help for the other thing."

  "You can say his name, can't you?"

  "Okay, for Keith's death."

  "Good."

  "I don't want to be some basket case," he said, "traumatised by all this shite that's happened to me."

  "It's what will stop you being a basket case," she said.

  "Yeah, you're right," he said. He realised that he'd been crying - fortunately the office was deserted. He wiped away the tears. "I won't be leaving any time soon. This is going to drag and drag."

  "Make sure you're not too tired."

  "Aye well, I've had more coffee than Bain has had Red Bull."

  "Scott..."

  "I know, I know..."

  "Okay, I'll see you when you get here," she said. "I'll keep the bed warm for you."

  "Good," he said. He almost said 'I love you'. He stabbed a finger against the screen and ended the call.

  He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the area as he rolled up the headphone cable. He could see the light in Turnbull's office and saw no sign of Bain and Lamb getting out.

  "Just about done, isn't it?"

  His heart thumped. He spun around. Caldwell.

  "You frightened me," he said.

  She laughed. "You big wimp." She sat down next to him. "What's happening?"

  "Just waiting on Bain and Lamb to get out of Turnbull's office to see what further fun is in store for today," he said. "I called McLaren but they still haven't found Charles Gibson. The lights are off at his house."

  "Do you believe Jamie Cook?" asked Caldwell.

  "I do," said Cullen. "It all makes sense."

  "Do you think he killed Mulgrew?"

  Cullen blinked. "No," he said. "I think Spider is telling the truth. One thing I don't get, though. They went to see some guy that lived over the other side of town according to Spider. They would have walked through the town centre, just the two of them."

  "You mean, how did nobody spot them?" asked Caldwell.

  "Aye," said Cullen. "We had an APB out on him. He just walked through the town centre."

  "Aye, well," she said, "I'm just up from the Incident Room. Watson said they've got a confirmed sighting of Simon Spink at the time we're interested in, walking past the RBS on Haddington High Street just after half eight."

  Cullen sat up on his chair. "Was Cook with him?"

  "Someone matching the description was."

  Cullen leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "That's great," he said. "Thanks for checking it out."

  "No problem," she said. "So what now?"

  "I don't know," he said. "Speak to Charles Gibson, I suppose."

  "Brilliant."

  Cullen nodded slowly, trying to think. "Did Watson say anything about what Jamie Cook was drinking?" he asked.

  She frowned. "He said something, aye."

  He sat forward. "What?"

  "Something like the barman couldn't remember," she said. "He might or might not have been ordering soft drinks."

  "Fine." Cullen looked at her. She was biting her lip. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Eh?" Her eyes darted up too quickly for there to be nothing.

  "I know something is up," he said. "What is it?"

  "There's nothing," she said, shaking her head.

  He suddenly thought of Lamb - looking her up and down the previous morning, the comment about a Wonderbra, asking Cullen that morning if she was single. "It's Lamb, isn't it?" he asked.

  She rubbed her face. "How did you know?"

  He smiled. "Despite what Bain might say, I am actually a detective," he said. "I know when someone's lying, most of the time, and I am good at picking up on signs, especially when they're as unsubtle as Lamb's have been."

  "He's asked me out for a drink," she said.

  "Thought there was nothing going on," he said. "That's what you told me earlier."

  "Aye, very good."

  "So?"

  "So, I'm married, Scott," she said.

  "So was Lamb," he said. "Are you tempted?"

  "He's a nice guy," she said. She bit her lip again. "Things haven't been that great with Rod, recently. He's pressuring me to have kids."

  "Don't you want them?"

  She shook her head violently. "No fucking way," she said. "He knew this when we got together. I've just got this job, the last thing I want to do is drop some kids."

  "Have you told him this?"

  She looked at the floor. "Not in so many words, no."

  "Maybe you should," he said. "What are you going to say to Lamb?"

  "Let him down gently, I suppose."

  "Probably for the best."

  She nodded at Cullen. "Got your little infatuation sorted out?"

  He rolled his eyes. "She hasn't spoken to me since this morning," he said. "I'm leaving it like that."

  "That's probably for the best," she said. "Sounds like your broke her poor wee heart."

  Cullen shook his head. "How do I keep attracting them?"

  "I've no idea," she said. "You're a twat when it comes to girls. I've no idea why Sharon puts up with you."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  Just then, Cullen spotted Bain and Lamb leaving Turnbull's office, neither of them looking happy. Cullen marched over, Caldwell following. Cullen clocked Lamb winking at Caldwell.

  "Have you found him yet?" asked Bain.

  "Who?"

  "Gibson?"

  "No we haven't," said Cullen. "He's not at home, McLaren can't find him."

  "Jesus fuckin' Christ," said Bain. "How come every fucker in East Lothian has a habit of fuckin' disappearing when I need to speak to them?"

  "Jim wants us to focus on Gibson as a priority," said Lamb.

  "Aye, well, it looks like Cook is in the clear," said Cullen. "His alibi is confirmed by two sources, one of them police."

  "Right," said Bain, "we're heading back to Garleton."

  "We've no idea where Gibson is," said Lamb.

  Cullen remembered speaking through the letterbox to Susan Russell. She had told them that her parents were away, at a vigil for Seamus Mulgrew. He wondered if it was still going on, hours later.

  "I think I know," said Cullen.

  *

  The lights were on inside the Rainbow Group building. The door had been patched up since Bain's forced entrance.

  Cullen banged on the door. Bain and Lamb were wi
th him. Caldwell, Watson and Law had gone down the lane to the back door. Irvine and Murray remained in separate cars.

  William Thornton answered the door. He frowned immediately. "Can I help you?"

  "We need to speak to Charles Gibson," said Cullen.

  Thornton smiled. "I'm afraid that's impossible just now," he said. "He's in the middle of a service. And this is a private religious building."

  "Bollocks it is," snapped Bain, squaring up to him. "We're grabbing him now for questioning."

  The tall accountant tried to spread himself across the door. "I'm afraid you will just have to wait," he said. "Charles is delivering an important service. His daughter has died and our spiritual leader has been murdered. Our congregation needs to heal."

  Bain grabbed him by the shirt collar. "Listen, pal," he said. "I'm speaking to him now. Okay?"

  Cath Russell appeared behind the door. "What is going on here?" she asked.

  "Charles Gibson," said Lamb. "Where is he?"

  "I'm afraid you can't just-"

  "Shut it," said Bain, and he charged inside the church, brushing her to the side.

  Gibson stood in the pulpit, a ceremonial robe over his clothes. His voice boomed out in the packed church.

  Bain marched up the middle of the room, heading straight for Gibson. Cullen followed. Lamb stayed at the door, guarding the exit.

  "What is going on here?" shouted Gibson.

  Bain stopped in front of him. "I really need to speak to you."

  "You'll have to wait," said Gibson. "We have suffered two great losses to our flock. We need to mourn."

  People were on their feet now.

  "Aye, and you're maybe responsible for them," called Bain, as he approached the front.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Just stop it, Gibson," said Bain. "Come and speak to me at the station."

  Jamie Cook's parents were advancing on Bain. Cullen was surprised that they'd be there - he'd last seen them in an interview room at Leith Walk.

  "Charles has done nothing," called Robert Cook.

  "How can you be here when your son is sitting in a police cell in Edinburgh accused of murder?" asked Bain.

  "We were there," said Robert Cook. "We gave Jamie our solicitor."

  "That's big of you," said Bain.

  "It's probably the most that Jamie deserves."

  "That's very Christian," said Bain.

  Gibson looked around the room at the bedlam. "Will you please leave?" he called.

  "Mr Gibson," said Bain, "do you want me to tell your friends here about the information you hid from them concerning Father Mulgrew?"

  Gibson hung his head. His eyes burned. "Okay, I'll come and speak to you."

  "Charles!" called Robert Cook. "You can't let them do this!"

  "I know I'm innocent," said Gibson, "as does the Lord. I will prove it to the officers here."

  forty-five

  "Mr Gibson," said Cullen. "You need to start answering my questions. You are facing serious accusations."

  They were back in Garleton police station in the same interview room as earlier. Gibson sat across the table from Bain, Lamb and Cullen. Alistair Stevens, his solicitor, sat next to him. He was an associate of Campbell McLintock at Williams, McLintock & Partners. He was in his early 30s and wore a black suit with a dark grey shirt and tie. Cullen didn't doubt that the recommendation to Gibson came from Robert Cook.

  Gibson had been defiant - his tactics had been denial and refusal to co-operate. Every single question met with a response of 'No comment'.

  "Mr Gibson," said Cullen. "Can you confirm that your daughter had two sessions a week with Father Mulgrew?"

  "No comment."

  "If you want to play it that way," said Cullen, "I can certainly speak to your son or your wife, who I'm sure-"

  "All right," snapped Gibson. He snorted. "Mandy did have two sessions a week with Mulgrew."

  "And you know that Mandy had signs of sexual abuse," said Cullen.

  Gibson nodded. "Not until you..." He shut up immediately.

  It hit Cullen like a hammer - Gibson had not been aware of the abuse, or of Mulgrew's history, until Cullen had told him. Cullen felt like the room started spinning. In one instant, he cracked the case and fucked it up. He searched through his notebook.

  "Can you confirm that the first you knew about Father Mulgrew's history was when I informed you at 5.30pm yesterday afternoon?" asked Cullen.

  "No comment," said Gibson.

  "Mr Gibson," said Cullen, his voice loud, "you need to confirm this."

  "Constable, my client has already given a no comment," said Stevens. "I refer you back to that answer."

  Cullen could see Gibson slipping between his fingers. He almost had him but the more that he grabbed, the less he had. He looked at Bain, who just shrugged. Gibson's eyes were focused on the desk. Stevens sat tapping a propelling pencil off his own notebook.

  Cullen knew there was something that he could use, something at the back of his head that Gibson had said. He hadn't registered it fully at the time.

  Cullen leafed through his notes - they'd spoken to Gibson a fair few times, at least four according to Cullen's notes. He couldn't quite find it. Then it struck him - the alibi for the car. He found that page - Gibson's alibi had been Mulgrew, which was very convenient as they now knew that he was dead by that point. Nobody in the street had confirmed the sighting. Cullen had written some of it down verbatim. One sentence stuck out.

  'I now know the reason why Seamus didn't turn up'.

  The alibi he'd given was for just after nine. They interviewed Gibson at ten thirty that morning about Mulgrew's death and they hadn't told him when Mulgrew had been killed.

  "Inspector," said Stevens, "my client is being detained here for absolutely no purpose that I can determine. Your underling here is doing some admin while we sit here. This is not effective use of mine or my client's time."

  Cullen looked at Bain. "I need a word," he whispered.

  Bain leaned over and paused the interview. He pointed a finger at Lamb. "You stay here," he said.

  Bain marched into the corridor. He stood, arms folded, glaring at Cullen. "This better be fuckin' good, Sundance."

  "I think I've got him."

  "How?"

  Cullen showed Bain his notebook. "He's slipped up," he said. "He didn't know that Mulgrew was dead last night until this morning." He read out the quote.

  "This is it?"

  "Trust me," said Cullen, "I can get him."

  "Fill your fuckin' boots, Sundance."

  They went back in and Bain resumed the interview. Lamb was frowning at Cullen.

  "Mr Gibson," said Cullen, "I will give you a quote from your statement earlier today which related to an alibi you were asked to give for your whereabouts last night. You said that you 'now knew the reason why Seamus didn't turn up'. Mr Gibson, can you confirm that?"

  "If that's what you wrote down then that's what I said," said Gibson.

  "We had asked for your whereabouts last night," said Cullen, "but we hadn't told you why we were looking."

  Gibson gulped. "I'm sure you said..."

  "Mr Gibson, how did you know that Father Mulgrew had been killed last night?" asked Cullen.

  "He was killed last night, you found the body."

  "You didn't know the time of death," said Cullen. "In fact, you shouldn't know it now."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Why did you say that you knew the real reason that Mulgrew hadn't turned up?" asked Cullen.

  "I don't know."

  "You made it clear that it was related to the death of Father Mulgrew," said Cullen. "You didn't know when he died."

  "I'm not sure that you can get that from my statement," said Gibson. He was visibly rattled, his hands shook and sweat poured down his brow.

  "Mr Gibson, I go back to my previous question," said Cullen, "the first you knew about Father Mulgrew's child abuse was when I informed you at 5.30pm yesterday afternoon, wasn't it?"r />
  "Seamus had told me before."

  "Is that true?" asked Cullen. "You entrusted your daughter's care to a known sex offender?"

  "We had no secrets between us..."

  "Mr Gibson, was the first you knew of Father Mulgrew's history when I told you?"

  Gibson looked around the room. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes."

  "Did you take any further action?" asked Cullen.

  Gibson started crying. "I didn't know... I..."

  "Mr Gibson, can you confirm what happened in that shack by Balgone Ponds?" asked Cullen.

  "Seamus called me," said Gibson. "He was frightened. He thought the police would be after him and..."

  Cullen was sure the phone calls that Gibson had been taking all day were from Mulgrew.

  "Had you been in regular contact with Father Mulgrew throughout the day?" asked Cullen.

  "I had."

  "What about?"

  "Church matters," said Gibson.

  "Are you sure that's the answer that you want to give?"

  "No comment," said Gibson.

  "What did you do when Father Mulgrew phoned you?"

  "I arranged to meet him," said Gibson. "I didn't know what he'd been doing to Mandy. It was only when you told me that I began to put two and two together. Jesus."

  Cullen caught Bain looking at him, frowning.

  "Did Seamus attack you when you got there?"

  "No comment."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  "Did you attack him?"

  "No comment."

  Cullen sighed. He sat and looked at Gibson. "Does any of this have anything to do with the exorcism?" he eventually asked.

  "Which one?"

  Cullen was thrown. "What do you mean 'which one'?"

  Gibson grimaced. "Well, of course, you mean at the service," he said. "That's the only exorcism."

  "She shouted 'Fuck! No!' over and over, I believe," said Cullen. "That was a cry for help."

  Gibson swallowed, tried to wiped away tears. "I know that now."

  "Mr Gibson," said Cullen, "we have a verified witness report that places you at Father Mulgrew's cottage with Mandy at exactly 11pm on Sunday night. This is the approximate time of death for your daughter."

  "What?"

  "You heard," snapped Bain.

  Gibson put his head on the table. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he said. He slumped back on his chair.