by Ed James
The female cop, Elena, sat next to him in her full uniform, focusing on the interview.
Tulloch was opposite them, leaning back in his chair to stretch out the maroon HARVARD shirt he wore. He gave Elena his full attention, his gleaming eyes trained on her. ‘So, do you fancy a drink? After this is over, we’ll go somewhere, I’ll get you a nice steak or something?’
She looked away.
Hunter felt that pang of spent energy in his muscles. A slight ache.
Tulloch was finally here, under lock and key. Secure. Unable to rape anyone else. It’ll be even better when he’s on the plane, heading for a nice, warm cell in Edinburgh.
Hunter glanced up at the camera, no idea who was at the other end. Quaresma said it was recording, but… ‘Can you state for the record that you do not wish to have a lawyer represent you?’
Tulloch kept his focus on Elena, running a tongue over his lips. ‘Told you pal, I don’t need a lawyer. You’ve got hee-haw on me.’
‘Right.’ Hunter sat back in his chair. ‘Mr Tulloch, I need you to outline your movements today, if you don’t mind?’
‘I don’t need to speak to you, do I?’
Hunter rested on his elbows. ‘You know why you’re here, right?’
Tulloch smirked at him. ‘Because you fancy me?’
Keep calm. Keep calm.
Hunter leaned back and cracked his knuckles. ‘Why do you think we picked you up in that apartment?’
Another leer at Elena. ‘To check out my penis?’
Hunter cracked his knuckles, popping them in the sockets, trying to keep the rage from his face. ‘You were sexually assaulting a woman. Luisa Oliveira.’
‘Never done nothing to anyone in that flat except make sweet, sweet love to Luisa.’ Tulloch drilled his gaze into Elena. Strong as she seemed, she couldn’t help but look away. ‘Pretty sure he’s after me, don’t you think?’
Elena jerked her chair back, scraping it across the floor, and thumbed at the door. ‘Mr Tulloch, you were sexually assaulting Luisa Oliveira, weren’t you?’
Tulloch tilted his head to the side, giving her the full matinee idol look. ‘You think that’s what happened, do you?’
‘You put GHB in her drink.’ Elena held up an evidence bag containing the tub of pills. ‘And then you raped her.’
Tulloch frowned at the bag. ‘That’s not mine.’
‘We found it in a pair of your jeans.’
Tulloch smacked his lips together. ‘See if I spiked this lassie’s drinks, how come you’ve got the drugs, not me?’
‘Because you took some pills with you.’ Elena rested the bag down on the table and started smoothing out the plastic. ‘You’re stupid, but you’re not going to carry that bottle with you, are you?’
‘Listen, this guy here is a lying bastard.’ Tulloch nodded slowly at her. ‘He’s trying to fit me up for God knows what reason. Tell you, though, I bet you’d be pretty hot in a bikini.’
Elena’s cheeks flushed. ‘You…’
This is all I bloody need.
Hunter leaned forward, distracting Tulloch from his prey. ‘Did you use GHB on Luisa Oliveira?’
‘No, I never.’ Tulloch slumped back in his chair, his hairy hands clasping his bald knees. ‘Never used it on anyone.’
‘She’s undergoing a blood test, so I’d advise against lying.’
Tulloch just laughed.
Hunter set out the photos of Tulloch and his mates in the bar. ‘On Friday morning, you raped one Heather Latimer.’
‘Here we go.’ Tulloch shuffled through the photos. ‘Take it you’ve kept the shots of me with the python out in that bar for your collection, aye?’
Hunter put another photo down on the table and prodded it. ‘You raped her yesterday morning.’
‘Just another lassie who wanted my portion, mate.’ Tulloch started drumming on his knees, grinning. ‘Sure you don’t get what I’m saying here?’
Hunter banged the table. ‘You raped her.’
Tulloch grinned at Hunter. ‘This is hilarious.’
‘As well as Heather Latimer, you raped Luisa Oliveira, didn’t you?’
Tulloch was still ignoring Hunter, eyes trained on Elena.
Hunter leaned back in the chair. Need to turn the tables somehow, anyhow. Fight fire with fire. Just… how?
Tulloch rested his arms on the table. ‘So, I’m thinking that as soon as you let me out of here, we go get a drink?’
Elena smiled at him. ‘You’re staying here.’
‘Listen, darling.’ Tulloch thumbed over at Hunter, his eyes twinkling in the spotlights. ‘Whatever he’s telling you, it’s bullshit, okay? I’ve not raped anyone. And this prick thinks he’s all smart, but he’s jealous of me.’
Elena tapped at her page, keeping her focus away from Tulloch. ‘You raped Luisa Oliveira, didn’t you?’
‘This again…’ Tulloch shook his head at her. ‘Luisa consented to everything we did. She wanted more. Like a wild horse, I swear.’
Hunter waved at Elena to stop. ‘It didn’t look like it to me.’
‘Aye?’ Tulloch shuffled his chair to the side. ‘The lassie was drinking with us. Then she wanted a length of pipe.’
‘You were raping her.’
‘No, mate. She was gagging for it. You know how the song goes.’ Tulloch ran his fingers down the bulge on his shorts again. ‘She wanted every inch of my love.’
‘You raped her.’
‘I never. Now, why don’t you fuck off out of here. Leave me and Elena to get better acquainted while you check with Luisa what actually happened, eh?’
62
CHANTAL
* * *
Luisa rubbed at her bare arms, gooseflesh puckering the skin all the way down to her elbows. Her ponytail was gone, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders.
Chantal shuddered as well. The interview room was freezing, the air conditioning turned up to make it feel like Christmas in Lapland. She got up and started walking around, passing behind Quaresma, sitting there with a stupid look on his face, like this was all such a laugh. ‘So, let’s go back to the start, shall we? You were working at the bar, correct?’
Luisa nodded. ‘We had some breakfasts, but they left.’ She nibbled at her nails. ‘Then John walked in.’
‘John?’
‘John.’ Luisa frowned, then cradled her head in her hands. ‘Sean.’
Chantal leaned across Quaresma to reach into an evidence pouch on the desk. She got out a photo of Tulloch. ‘Is this him?’
‘That’s him.’ Luisa snatched the photo off and ran a finger across Tulloch’s face. ‘That’s him.’
‘Was he on his own?’
‘He was with Matty.’
Chantal frowned at her. ‘You know Matty?’
Luisa cleared her throat and stroked the photo again. ‘He’s been in before.’ She rested it on the table. ‘There was someone else. Keith, maybe?’ She shrugged. ‘But he left. His eyes were stinging.’
‘How did they seem?’
‘Typical tourists. Drunk at ten o’clock in the morning.’
‘Did you serve them anything?’
Luisa nodded. ‘A bottle of absinthe.’
‘A bottle of spirits at that time?’
‘It happens.’ Another shrug. ‘Cheaper for them, we get lot of money. And they stay there, buy food. Maybe.’
‘And did they?’
She looked away. ‘No.’
‘So, the three of them sat around and tucked into the bottle of absinthe?’
‘They drank about a quarter of it by the time—’ She ran a hand through her hair. Clammed up.
Chantal tilted her head to the side. ‘By what time?’
Luisa nibbled at her bottom lip. ‘In off-season, the boss lets us go early. We can drink with customers. Sean let me have a drink.’
‘Did he try and put anything in your drink?’
‘What?’
‘Like a drug?’
‘Hardly.’ Luisa shook her head
. ‘I like him. I said I lived close. We went to my apartment.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Like what? I liked him.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, he’s my type.’
A chill shot up Chantal’s spine. ‘You chose to go?’
‘Yeah?’ Luisa chewed at more of her lip. ‘I like him. We were kissing each other on the stairs.’
‘Did you consent to having sex with Mr Tulloch?’
‘Yes.’ Her expression darkened and she waved a hand at Quaresma. ‘Then he pulled him out of me.’
Quaresma levered himself up to standing and buttoned up his long coat. ‘Sergeant, we should have a chat.’
63
HUNTER
* * *
Hunter leaned back into the tiny window space and rested his arms on the concrete. ‘Mr Brownlee, I need to go through your movements on Thursday night.’
‘We’ve been through this in detail.’ Brownlee scowled back at him. ‘What’s the point in her writing this down if you keep asking me to repeat it, eh?’
Elena was sitting opposite Brownlee.
Nice to have someone working for me for once. Someone who wasn’t Elvis.
‘You said you were drinking at a bar near the hotel, then down the Strip.’ Hunter pressed his arms against the cool wall. ‘What was the name of the bar?’
Brownlee exhaled slowly through his nostrils, his focus locked on the desk. ‘Something like Cheap and Cheerful.’
‘And you were doing karaoke in there?’
‘Sean was. That shite he always does.’ Brownlee smirked. ‘Hall and Oates.’
‘And you said you left?’
Brownlee looked up. ‘Aye.’
‘You weren’t thrown out?’
‘Sean was.’ Brownlee scratched at his neck, lobster red around the T-shirt collar. ‘Like I told you, we went back to the hotel to meet up with some of the other boys. Then we headed down the Strip.’
Hunter nodded slowly, leaving space for Brownlee to swim in. ‘Where did you end up?’
‘Couldn’t tell you.’
‘Wouldn’t be Mambo, would it?’
Brownlee shrugged. ‘Take your word for it.’
‘That’s where you…’ Hunter leaned over Elena’s shoulder to read her notes. In bloody Portuguese. He coughed. ‘Where you met the “Irish birds”.’
‘Well, aye, but I didn’t call them “birds”. It’s demeaning. Ladies, I think I said.’
Hunter almost laughed. Caught himself in time. ‘Did you chat to any of them?’
‘No.’
‘Did Sean chat up any of these girls?’
‘No.’
Hunter pulled out a photo of Heather Latimer. ‘What about her?’
Brownlee took it and stared at it. He flapped it in the air, like he was weighing up the decision to tell the truth or not. ‘Never seen her in my life.’
‘Sure about that?’
Brownlee put the photo back on the table. ‘Don’t recognise her.’
Hunter held it up and gave Brownlee one last look. ‘So, what happened next?’
‘Some of the boys were heading off to the ti—’ Brownlee coughed and cleared his throat. ‘They were heading to a lap dancing bar.’
‘And did you go?’
‘Not my scene, dude.’
‘You told me earlier that you were at “the tits” till four.’
Brownlee let out a deep sigh. ‘Fine. I was in there. Had a few dances. Then I went back to my crib.’
‘Which you share with Sean Tulloch?’
‘Well the room, aye.’
Hunter got out the bottle of pills. ‘Have you ever seen this?’
Brownlee raised his hands. ‘Nothing to do with me.’
Elena put down her pen. ‘We found that in your hotel room, Mr Brownlee.’
‘Well, it’s not mine. Sorry.’
Hunter rested it on the table. ‘Is it Sean Tulloch’s?’
‘Never seen it in my puff, pal.’
Hunter passed the pills to Elena. ‘So, you got back to your room and you went to sleep, right?’
‘That’s what I told you.’
‘When did you wake up?’
‘In time for breakfast. Always make sure I have a proper breakfast, you know? Sets you up for the day.’
‘Was Mr Tulloch in the room when you roused yourself?’
‘Might’ve been. Can’t remember. Had a stinking hangover. All I could think about was coffee and bacon.’
Hunter grimaced. ‘And was he alone?’
‘Look, pal, I can’t even remember if he was there, let alone whether he’d pulled.’
‘Heather Latimer wasn’t there, was she?’ Hunter tapped the photo.
Brownlee didn’t even look at it. ‘What is this?’ He threw it over his shoulder. ‘I never saw the girl.’
‘Ms Latimer says you were looking at her as Mr Tulloch raped her.’
‘Not me.’
‘Staring at her while he—’
‘Not me, pal. Must’ve been in a different room. Have you spoken to Matty?’
‘She identified you from a photograph. You’re pretty distinct, you know that?’
Brownlee rubbed at his ears. ‘Shut up.’
Hunter snorted out a sigh. ‘What sort of person lies there watching someone being raped?’
‘You tell me.’
‘Sean raped that girl. You saw him do it. If you had an ounce of human decency, you’d tell us what happened.’
Brownlee sat there and folded his arms. ‘You’re getting nothing more out of me.’
‘You let her be raped. Just lay there, playing with yourself.’
‘You’ve got my statement.’ Brownlee pushed his chair back and got up. ‘Now, if you don’t mind? I’m supposed to be on holiday.’
64
CHANTAL
* * *
Quaresma led Chantal down a long corridor and opened a door at the end, holding it for her.
Classic ID parade. A room with a wide window running down the side, looking onto another one. Two women stood silhouetted against it, a local female uniform, and Heather Latimer.
Chantal followed Quaresma over, stopping behind them.
Heather nodded at her, though her eyebrows were squashed together.
Five giants loomed behind the glass, Tulloch fourth from the left.
‘Ms Latimer, thanks for your assistance.’ Quaresma licked his lips slowly. ‘Now I know how difficult this must be, but can you identify your attacker?’
Heather huffed out a breath and shrugged. ‘Sorry.’
‘You can take your time.’ Quaresma gave her his full smarmy charm bottled in a smile. ‘Do you recognise any of them?’
‘They all seem familiar.’ Heather blinked hard like she needed some glasses. ‘It’s… I can’t remember. That stuff they put in my drink.’
Chantal let out a groan. Shite.
Heather turned round and frowned at Quaresma. ‘Sorry.’
Chantal tried a smile, but it wasn’t happening. ‘You don’t recognise any of them?’
Heather took another look. Long, slow, one by one. Focusing hard, her fingers twitching. She settled on Tulloch and locked eyes with him. He snorted. Then she shook her head. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Take your time, if you need it.’ Chantal wanted to shake her. Grab her by the shoulders and make her point at Tulloch. ‘One more—’
‘Ms Latimer, you can leave now.’ Quaresma smiled at the uniform. ‘My colleague will show you out.’
Heather followed the uniform out of the room, her head bowed.
‘This isn’t the way to do it.’ Chantal glowered at Quaresma. ‘We use a system called VIPER at home. It’s proven to give better results by not letting the suspect see—’
‘You’re not at home, Sergeant.’ Quaresma got in her face, blowing coffee breath over her. ‘This is how we do things here.’
65
HUNTER
* * *
Quaresma held the door for them. Hunter follo
wed Chantal in and slumped in the corner.
The observation suite was a broom cupboard filled with a big computer monitor, the display split in four, the bottom half empty. Tulloch was in the top-left, Luisa top-right.
‘Then we have no choice.’ Quaresma hauled himself up to standing. ‘Elena, please let Mr Tulloch go.’
‘What?’ Hunter’s gaze darted around the room, his heart thudding. ‘You can’t let him go!’
Quaresma folded his arms and lowered his eyes. ‘Constable, we don’t have any grounds to hold him. Therefore, we are letting him go.’ He waved a hand at Elena. ‘Now.’
She left the room.
‘This is complete bullshit!’
‘I can’t keep him here, Constable. He hasn’t committed any crime in this country.’
Hunter held his gaze for a few seconds until Quaresma looked away. ‘He raped someone.’
‘We haven’t got any evidence of assault on Ms Latimer. Your witness isn’t testifying and there’s no proof that the GHB found in Mr Tulloch’s room was even used, let alone to rape any of these women.’
‘That’s your fault.’ Hunter’s voice felt hoarse, sounded like it was a million miles away. ‘If you’d—’
‘Constable, we had an agreement to discuss this operation at fourteen hundred hours today. It’s not even thirteen hundred now.’ Quaresma held up his watch, the gold glinting in the light like an Aztec pyramid. ‘I was going to allocate two of my officers to you, but not now. I won’t be disrespected like this. If you move on him, I will arrest you.’
‘What’s your problem?’ Hunter locked eyes with him. ‘Are you getting a backhander from someone?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Every step of the way, you’ve blocked us. Our suspect landed here, what, forty hours ago? You could’ve arrested him and sent him back to Scotland. Or you could’ve kept him in a holding cell until we got here yesterday morning. But no, you’ve let him run wild, raping.’
‘Constable, I know your country. I worked there. It is a degenerate land filled with people of low morals. Men like this Sean Tulloch are everywhere in Scotland.’