Devil in the Detail (Scott Cullen Mysteries)

by Ed James

  "Mr Gibson may retract that statement later," said Stevens.

  "What happened?" asked Cullen, ignoring the lawyer.

  "I took Mandy around to Father Mulgrew's house." Gibson took a deep breath. "He was going to exorcise her again. He told me that he could get rid of the demon that time." A tear slicked down his face. "Seamus took Mandy upstairs for the ritual."

  "And she died?" asked Cullen.

  He nodded. "She just stopped breathing."

  "Just stopped breathing?" asked Bain, his face screwed up.

  "Father Mulgrew said that the demon had taken her when he left her body," said Gibson.

  "And you believed him?"

  Gibson nodded. "At the time, yes."

  "Did you see this happen?" asked Cullen.

  "No, I was downstairs," said Gibson.

  Bain cleared his throat. "The postmortem report said that she was suffocated," he said. "With a pillow."

  Gibson nodded.

  "Did you try to make it look like Jamie Cook had been responsible?" asked Cullen.

  "We did," said Gibson. "It was Seamus' idea. He wanted to make it look like Mandy had been killed by Jamie Cook. It would leave fewer questions and leave the town free of one of the biggest blights it had seen."

  "So you tried to frame an innocent man for murder?" asked Cullen.

  "Yes," said Gibson.

  "What happened when you met up with Father Mulgrew at Balgone Ponds?"

  Gibson looked away from them. "He was desperate," he said. "His eyes were red. His hands were shaking." He swallowed. "I asked him about the history of abuse in Ireland. I asked him about Mandy having been abused. He blamed it on Jamie. I asked him about how Mandy died, he said it was my fault." He exhaled through his nose. "I exploded with rage. I grabbed hold of him. I asked him again what had happened with Mandy. He told me that he had suffocated her. She was going to tell people about what he had been doing. He told me it would all come out, him and Jamie Cook, him and Mandy. He pleaded with me, said that our faith had to be strong. It was God trying us."

  "What did you do?"

  "I suffocated him."

  "Why?" asked Cullen.

  Gibson sighed. "To make it look like Jamie Cook had done it."

  Cullen shook his head. "What about the teddy bear?"

  Gibson nodded. "I planted that," he said. "I wish I hadn't."

  Cullen looked at Bain. He shrugged his shoulders. Cullen checked his watch. "Interview terminated at ten eighteen."

  Bain stood up. "Get to your feet," he said.

  Gibson slowly stood.

  "Charles Gibson, I am charging you with the murder of Seamus Mulgrew."

  last thing

  Cullen tapped at his computer back in the Leith Walk station. They'd charged and processed Gibson. Cullen didn't think the case would go to a full trial and he hoped that the confession would stick.

  Cullen checked his watch; 11.30pm. He estimated he would need another twenty minutes to finish his part of the case report, then he was off to Sharon's. He had the next day off as part of his shift pattern but knew he would be called at some point.

  For once, they hadn't headed to the pub to celebrate the arrest. Everyone involved with the case seemed badly affected. Cullen had spotted Bain mooching around earlier but he wanted to avoid him. He imagined that Turnbull had designs on Bain's time, anyway.

  Cullen was pleased with the day's work. He'd managed to solve the case. He was astonished by what was festering below the surface in these towns, little details known only to a select few. Cullen wondered what would happen to the Rainbow group - their leader murdered and outed as a child molester, the second-in-command awaiting trial for murder. Some might rejoin the Church of Scotland, others would give up on religion. The Gibson family certainly would not recover - daughter dead, husband a murderer. A single moment of madness was all it had taken.

  Cullen had decided to admit that he had given Gibson the two pieces of information that had tipped him over the edge. Bain had doubted there would be any repercussions, but Cullen did not trust him.

  He stood up and stretched. He needed a break from his report and so had a rummage through his pigeonhole. There were several newsletters and a holiday request form. His heart just about stopped when he looked at the last item, a brown A4 envelope.

  He opened it, hands shaking.

  It was from Tommy Smith - the trace on the phone calls. The first sheet referred to the two Gibson numbers - Cullen thought it would have been useful to have had them a few hours earlier, but it would go in the report.

  He looked at the second sheet - it was the unknown caller.

  He read the name and his eyes widened.

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Wednesday, 25th January, 2012

  Cullen sat in the car and waited, listening to the early evening January rain thunder down on the roof and watching it pour down the windscreen. He looked at the house, the warm glow of lights from behind the curtains, and decided to wait another few minutes until the rain quietened down. He'd been procrastinating for the last twenty minutes, reluctant to make the decision to move.

  He picked up the envelope from the passenger seat, the one from his pigeonhole and opened it again. He read the memo for the umpteenth time that day. On his day off, he had only had to deal with Sharon's cat and Bain chasing him for the report that he had already submitted. He had attended a counselling session - they were down to once a month now - and had started talking about the case, about Mandy and Mulgrew, about Jamie Cook and Charles Gibson, about Kirsty-Jane Platt and her father. He knew there was more to deal with but he felt good to talk about something other than Keith Miller's stabbing and his guilt. His counsellor suggested meeting once a week for a month or so to see how it went.

  He folded the sheet in quarter and put it in his jacket pocket. He rehearsed all of the things he wanted to say. The rain had slowed enough for him to finally consider going to the door. He locked his car and ran across the path to the house. He sheltered under the eaves as he waited.

  "What the fuck do you want?" asked Derek Miller.

  "I want to know why you've been crank calling me, Derek," said Cullen.

  Miller looked Cullen up and down. "You fuckin' what?"

  Cullen took the letter out. "You weren't very smart, Derek," he said. "You used your own mobile."

  Miller shrugged. "So what do you want to do, eh?"

  "Can I come in?" asked Cullen. "It's pissing down."

  Miller leaned back and gestured for Cullen to come in. Miller led Cullen through to the living room, where they had met with Bain, Sharon and Miller's parents

  "My parents are out," he said.

  "I know."

  Miller sat on a reclining armchair, suddenly looking small and worried. "What are you going to do with your information then, eh?"

  Cullen chose the armchair he'd sat in all those months before. "I could press charges," said Cullen.

  "I could deny it," said Miller. "My phone got nicked, eh? Some wee bastard fae Wester Hailes choried it fae a club on Saturday night."

  Cullen held up the report. "I got a trace done, Derek," he said. "Seems like the wee bastard lives in this exact house, not Wester Hailes."

  "Aye, very good," said Miller.

  "Why were you doing it?"

  Miller looked Cullen in the eye. "Who says I've stopped?"

  "You've stopped," said Cullen. "There's a bar put on your phone. I can get it lifted if I want."

  "Fuck sake, man," said Miller, "I've no had any texts for fuckin' hours 'cos of you!"

  "And I had been considering the possibility that a murder suspect on a case I was working on was making those calls," said Cullen. "I spent a lot of public money doing the traces. I didn't consider that it would be you. That is evidence related to the case, that I should really submit. My DI would be interested in having a word about why he's spent a few grand on a phone search."

  "Is your DI that Bain prick?" asked Miller.

&n
bsp; "Aye."

  "Let him come at me," said Miller. "I'll sort him out."

  "Quite the hard man, aren't you?"

  "Harder than my fuckin' brother."

  "Is that what you really think, Derek?" asked Cullen.

  Miller looked at the floor for a few seconds. "No, it isn't," he said.

  "You were calling me because you are angry at me for his death," said Cullen, "isn't that right?"

  Miller rubbed the tears out of his eyes. "It was his fuckin' birthday on Monday," he said. "That's where my parents are. Off to the fuckin' cemetery with a bunch of flowers. We should be going to the fuckin' football tonight, me and Keith. It's Dundee in the League Cup at Easter Road tonight. We should be watchin' the boys turnin' those pricks over but you fuckin' got him killed."

  Cullen held his gaze. "Derek, I didn't get your brother killed," he said.

  "Aye, you did," he said. "Youse werenae supposed to be in that flat."

  "Keith died apprehending a suspect who was later convicted of four murders," said Cullen. "And he had the bravery to hold that suspect on his own while I liberated a hostage."

  "You're all the fuckin' same," said Miller, his voice raised. "Total pricks."

  "That's as maybe," said Cullen. "It's a risky business being in the police. Keith knew that risk, accepted that risk. You know, I once had a conversation with Keith about why we joined the police. We had both worked for insurance companies in jobs we hated. Being a police officer is about doing something more than serving yourself."

  "Is this my fuckin' brother you're talking about?" asked Miller, his face screwed up.

  "Keith wanted to do the right thing," said Cullen. "He could be quite wild and it didn't always seem like he was committed, but he was desperately trying to get made a full-time DC when he died. It's a tough job. There are easier jobs in the police force - he could have become a desk sergeant in a quiet place in the country, for instance. But he tried to do the hardest thing."

  "Aye, good on him," said Miller.

  "Derek, I've had a lot of counselling to try and get over his," said Cullen. "I might not always have seen eye-to-eye with your brother on every aspect of every case but I got on reasonably well with him. As you say, I was responsible for his death. It was me that led us both in there. We should have waited for back-up but we didn't. I have to live with that every day." He paused for a few moments, letting the words sink in. "I have a new Acting DC working with me every day. She's very good and everything, but every time I see her, I'm reminded of Keith Miller and the fact that she's there because Keith isn't."

  "So what are you sayin' then?" asked Miller.

  "Derek, I can press charges against you," said Cullen, "you'll get a fine and maybe a court order. They might be harder than that."

  Miller laughed at Cullen. "They're not going to chuck me in jail 'cos I made some calls."

  "They might," said Cullen. "They're against a police officer. They might want to make an example of you."

  "I'm shakin' here, eh?" said Miller. "You're really frightening me, man."

  "Derek, I'm serious," said Cullen. "I'm offering you a way out of it."

  "What?"

  "I think we could both do with someone to speak to about your brother and what happened," said Cullen. "You look like you're still hurt. I can help. And I need help, too. I need to feel forgiveness. I need to come to terms with what happened."

  "And what do you want from me?"

  "I want you to listen," said Cullen. "On the 25th of every month, we will meet up somewhere and talk. If there's a Hibs match on then we'll go and see it."

  "Is that it?" asked Miller. "You're not a poof, are you?"

  Cullen laughed. "No, I'm not," he said. "I just think you need help."

  Miller sat in silence for a few minutes. Cullen let him think. "Fine," said Miller, eventually.

  "Thanks," said Cullen.

  "So how will this work then?" asked Miller.

  "I'll call you," said Cullen. "I've got your number."

  SCOTT CULLEN WILL RETURN IN

  "FIRE IN THE BLOOD"

  OUT NOW

  Dunpender Distillery in East Lothian is steeped in the traditions of whisky-making. Approaching the distillery's centenary, a special edition is being readied for blending when something unexpected is found - one of the two barrels contains a male human body, battered and unrecognisable.

  Detective Constable Scott Cullen, caught up in the maelstrom of managerial positioning surrounding the impending merger of Lothian & Borders into the Scottish Police Service, is sent out east again. Cullen is soon delving into the ancient history of the Crombie family, owners of the distillery, and investigating the disappearances of the owner's son, Iain Crombie, and an employee, Paddy Kavanagh, who both went missing around the time the whisky was distilled. Cullen is soon contending with the skeletons in the closets at the Distillery, DI Bain's desire for a quick collar and too many suspects with plausible motives, and finds himself hunting for a killer with fire in the blood.

  Amazon UKhttp://bit.ly/EJDevl

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  Other territories and formats are available.

  OTHER BOOKS BY ED JAMES

  THE SCOTT CULLEN SERIES

  1GHOST IN THE MACHINE

  2DEVIL IN THE DETAIL

  3FIRE IN THE BLOOD

  4DYED IN THE WOOL

  5BOTTLENECK (coming 2014)

  SUPERNATURE SERIES -

  1SHOT THROUGH THE HEART

  2CRASH INTO MY ARMS (coming 2014)

  eBOOKS AVAILABLE NOW FROM AMAZON, BARNES & NOBLE, KOBO, iBOOKS, SONY eREADER AND OTHERS.

  PAPERBACKS AVAILABLE NOW FROM AMAZON.

  "FIRE IN THE BLOOD"

  Excerpt -

  Doug Strachan stood by a sherry oak barrel mounted on a rack in the damp, cold basement storage room of Dunpender Distillery. He checked the date on the bottom, and lost himself in reminiscence to eighteen years previously when the barrel had been filled with immature whisky.

  Eventually, he set to work and tapped the bung - the stout wooden stopper that kept the barrel whisky-tight - with a large mallet and eased it out slowly, placing it in the pocket of his overcoat for safe-keeping. He then lowered the dog - a long copper cylinder on a chain - deep into the barrel and allowed it to fill. Retrieving the dog, he poured the contents into a clear glass bottle and spent a few minutes swirling the bottle and examining the golden liquid. It looked nice and clean to him, with no noticeable impurities. It had taken on the lighter colour of the sherry oak cask it had sat in for the last eighteen years and was a worthy candidate for the blend of the centenary edition. Ready to drink, if anything, thought Strachan. He took a sniff of it and drank in the aroma of the unblended spirit for perhaps a bit too long.

  Replacing the bung, he moved over to the second barrel of the pair – this one a darker bourbon cask to compliment the softer sherry oak of its sibling when they were blended together. He tried to remove its bung but it was stuck fast. A good few hits with the mallet and it finally slackened off. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief - he shouldn't be sweating in the room given how cold it was, but he hadn't expect any form of exertion and he was dressed in a few layers. He dipped a second dog into the barrel.

  It hit something hard.

  Frowning, he retrieved the dog - it had only filled a fraction. It danced about on the chain and spilled its contents onto the cracked flagstones of the floor. He picked the torch up and shone it into the barrel, angling the light to cut through the liquid.

  The torch shone on an object which he struggled to make out. He shifted the torch's light about, trying to get a better view of it.

  Eventually, he identified a human ear.

  Afterword

  Many, many thanks for buying and reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it.

  This is my second book and I've been lucky and not had "second album blues" - it's probably something to do with the fact that I'd originally written this in October 2010.
It was a brave decision, I think to take a 20,000 word novella and turn it into a full novel, but I think it has worked and I hope you agree. That's not to say that it has been easy - it was a lot easier than GHOST IN THE MACHINE - but it's taken a lot of blood, sweat and tears as I've pounded away on a dying netbook on the train every morning and evening.

  Scott Cullen will be back. There will be a sequel novel called DYED IN THE WOOL, of which I've written no words as it stands but I'm confident it will be out early summer next year. There will also be two novellas bridging the gap - WHISKY IN THE JAR followed by ALL IN A NAME. Keep an eye on my blog or subscribe to my newsletter to keep up-to-date.

  As with GHOST, many of the settings in this book are entirely fictional. There is no Garleton except in my imagination (and hopefully yours now) - it's a lovely range of hills between Drem and Haddington, and you can go for a lovely walk along the ridge if you turn off the A199 at Barney Mains. The Pheasant pub in Haddington is currently boarded up and being turned into a style bar but it has a history in keeping with Jamie Cook and his mates. The band Expect Delays doesn't exist. Don't go shopping for Likely Laddie or Dunpender Distillery whisky. Finally, the town of Ravencraig in West Lothian is a fictional creation that may appear in DYED IN THE WOOL.

  Things that are real, though, include Balgone Ponds which is a really nice place for a walk, just hope you don't find a body in amongst the bushes or in the shack. The Burns poem is true (http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/robertburns/works/comin_thro_the_rye_alternate_version/) though Tommy Smith shares some of my theories which are just theories. The Clash song 'Police On My Back' is mentioned, a cover of an Eddie Grant track off their much-maligned 'Sandanista' album, though I prefer the live version on the late Joe Strummer's 'Acton Town Hall' bootleg, soon to be officially released.