Blood & Guts

by Ed James

  ‘A dick pic!’ Gary shouted it loud. ‘I sent them a photo of my hard-on!’

  Jane slumped back against the fridge, making the metal rattle. ‘Carly and Teri shared it on social media, and not by accident either. They were cruel witches.’

  ‘Given your son’s age, that would actually be distributing child pornography.’

  ‘Well, you should have a word with your colleagues. The useless sods who didn’t investigate it. Just said it was anonymous.’

  Gary wrapped an arm around his mother. ‘I thought Carly loved me, but she ruined my life.’

  That all made perfect sense. Getting a kid to share a photo like that, shaming him. Ruining his life, or at least making him feel like it was ruined. Certainly enough to warrant an attack, if not outright murder.

  ‘Did you speak to their parents?’

  ‘I didn’t have direct proof, did I? It was all anonymous, they’d been so careful, hadn’t they? But Carly was the one who had the photo. She’s responsible for it.’

  ‘As painful as it is, Gary, you’ll get over this. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.’

  ‘What would you know?’

  Vicky stared hard at him. Nothing, except for a school trip when she was fourteen. Her boyfriend, or so she thought, photographing her breasts. A Polaroid shared with his friends. Nothing like the number of people as if it was on social media, but still. A lot of damage was done.

  Vicky could’ve told them about her dad and a couple of his mates threatening to beat the living shit out of the boy, but she didn’t. She got over it, but it still hurt. She had that acid bubbling in her stomach, like she was walking the halls of Carnoustie High School, with kids joking about her breasts.

  Gary couldn’t look at her.

  Karen grabbed hold of him again. ‘Come on, let’s get you to the station.’ She frogmarched the boy out of the kitchen into the hall.

  Vicky stared at Jane. ‘I know what you’re going through, okay? It’s going to be really tough for you. And I’m really sorry—’

  Gary pushed his head towards Karen.

  She was way too quick for him, ducking inside, then grabbing his throat and choking him against the wall. ‘Come on!’

  Jane shot after her son. ‘Gary! No!’

  Vicky followed outside, the cold air hitting her own burning cheeks.

  ‘NO!’ Jane was over by Karen, her resolve and calm given way to slapping and shouting. ‘LET HIM GO!’

  Karen opened the pool car’s back door and dipped Gary’s head to nudge him inside.

  But he wouldn’t go. He just stood there, resisting Karen’s pushing, staring back at his mother.

  Jane was looking between them. ‘I can get his therapist here! I can get her on the phone!’

  Gary collapsed to his knees, crying. ‘I didn’t do anything!’

  ‘Please!’ Jane was in Vicky’s face. ‘I can get her here. Will it help?’

  ‘We’ll need to speak to his counsellor as part of our investigation.’

  ‘Please, don’t do this. Let me have a Christmas with him.’

  Vicky kept her arms out in case the mother tried to attack her. ‘I suggest you call a lawyer.’

  Jane let a gasp escape her lips. She looked back at the house. Her husband was standing in the doorway, clutching a whisky glass. ‘Mike! Please! You’ve got to help!’

  But Mike just sank the whisky and rested the glass on the side table by the door. He stared at his wife, close to hysteria now, then at his son, sobbing on the pavement, then shut his eyes. ‘It was me. I killed her.’

  17

  Like father like son.

  Mike Wilkie leaned forward, breathing whisky-breath across the table. He was frozen, unable to move or to talk.

  The interview room still reeked of Gary’s earlier sickness – no amount of cleaning fluid could get rid of that so quickly.

  His lawyer sat next to Mike. An overweight man, pushing towards obese. Tidy beard and close-cropped hair. He stood up and thrust out a hand that was bigger than Vicky’s head. ‘Jason Adamson of McLintock and Williams. Pleased to meet you.’

  Vicky shook it with a smile. ‘An Edinburgh firm, right?’

  ‘Well, aye, but I’m a Dundee lad. Well, Monifieth. But I live in Edinburgh now. Just got home for Christmas, and I was deep in a sleep in my old room, when I got the call from him upstairs. Campbell McLintock himself. And you don’t bounce his call, let me tell you. You don’t sleep through it.’

  ‘Well, you were in the right place at the right time.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Adamson sat down and clicked his pen, ready to write on the yellow legal pad in front of him. His lips quivered, like he was stifling a yawn. ‘I’m just here to make sure our client’s confession is duly noted.’ He gave in to the yawn now.

  ‘Of course.’ Vicky hoped that was the last exchange she’d have with him. But then again, she didn’t believe the sudden flash of honesty from Mike Wilkie, especially with his son in cuffs by a police car, mid-arrest. ‘I need you to go over your confession again, for the record.’

  Mike nodded. ‘You know why I did it. Why I killed Carly Johnston. I mean, it was an accident, but…’ He sighed. ‘But you know why, right?’

  ‘It’s important to get it on the record.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mike gripped his thighs, head forward, almost touching the desk. ‘My son had shared a… a… a photo of his penis with Carly. It somehow ended up on Schoolbook and other social networks, shared among his supposed friends at school.’

  ‘And you believe Carly was responsible.’

  ‘Who else? My son deleted the image from his phone and she was supposed to, but… but she didn’t. Next thing I know, my son is crying about how it’s ruined his life. And it did, at least for a while. He’s only just recovering. All that therapy doesn’t come cheap, and…’

  ‘Did you report it to the police?’

  ‘That’s the trouble. They couldn’t prove it was Carly who shared it. Or Teresa Ennis.’

  And that made a modicum of sense. Still proved nothing either way. ‘So why is that the trouble?’

  ‘Because I know her father. Ryan.’ Mike looked around the room. ‘He’s… he’s… he’s a police officer.’

  ‘So you thought he’d use his contacts to keep a lid on it?’

  ‘Stands to reason, doesn’t it?’

  ‘There are procedures in place for reporting police corruption.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I’m serious. If you think that “we investigate our own” and it’s all covered up, well that’s a very outdated view. We have officers from other divisions to investigate. If you had reported the matter to the authorities, a full and proper investigation would’ve occurred in the event of any corruption. Did you speak to Teresa’s family?’

  ‘My wife went into the local station, but she got stonewalled.’

  ‘I see.’

  Adamson sat back, mirroring his client’s body language. ‘A shared dick pic is pretty common nowadays, though, right?’

  Mike was blushing, eyes shut.

  ‘What. Don’t tell me—’

  ‘My son has a very unusually shaped penis.’ Mike shook his head. ‘But the image was clearly of my son with… with… with his penis on display. And everyone at the school was going on about it. Calling him names. So, anyway, after my work night out yesterday, I—’

  ‘Hold on a second.’ Vicky raised a hand. ‘You had a night out?’

  ‘Correct. I’m an accountant at Hunt and Ward in town. We usually have our night out at the start of the month, but places had booked up, so we could only get the twenty-third. Town was busy and they all went on to a nightclub, so I got a cab home.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Just after midnight.’

  Which tallied with Alan Kettles and his sneaky GPS tracker. ‘Did you call for it?’

  ‘No, it was from the rank at the Overgate.’

  ‘You know the driver?’

  ‘No.’ Mike let his
arms go, hanging by his side. ‘But he seemed to know me. The friendly sort. Name of Dougie McLean.’

  It hit Vicky like a sledgehammer. After tying up Catriona Gordon, McLean had gone back to work. Maybe McLean was innocent of Carly’s murder, but he had raped Catriona. And left her tied up. And eaten some beans on toast.

  ‘This McLean chap started chatting to me in the cab, you know how it is. He was talking about snaring young lassies on an app. “Poggr. Without the e, ken.” Right?’ Mike’s refined accent slipped to Dundonian for the fairly accurate impression. ‘Then he told me that one of these “young lassies” lived nearby.’

  ‘Where was this?’

  ‘Near my home.’

  ‘Adelaide Place?’

  ‘Correct. And it was Carly. He described her as a “tidy piece” and said he’d been “banging her for over six months now, but had to break it off because she was too eager”. I was still angry with Carly, but… When I asked for a receipt for the taxi, it irked McLean. He said he’d text me it. But I sensed he was up to something, so I insisted he do it there and then, sending me a receipt to my email. So he started to. And I saw that he didn’t have a passcode on his phone. Schoolboy error. I realised that phone could be useful. So I made myself sick in the back of the car. And it certainly pissed him off. And cost me fifty pounds. But it allowed me to steal his phone. And I saw a plan. I could take the phone, see if he had photos of her on it. But there was nothing… Whatever McLean was doing to her was in person not on camera … but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. So I wanted to scare the life out of her and enact revenge for my son’s ordeal.’

  ‘By killing her?’

  ‘God no. Just… Just kidnap her, take some nude photos and videos, then share them. Give her a taste of her own medicine. And if I could frame Douglas McLean for the crime? All the better.’

  ‘Why frame him? What had he done?’

  ‘Well, I initially wasn’t going to, but when I found that app, Poggr, well. Let’s just say that when Mr McLean said he found “young lassies” on there, he had a taste for very young.’

  ‘How young?’

  ‘Hard to say. I saw a girl who said she was 41, but she would never pass for that.’

  Vicky felt her stomach go. She caught the same look of revulsion in Karen. Forty-one when she was fourteen. And Dougie McLean must’ve known. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t there for that. But I found the messages he’d sent to Carly. A lot of them, until he broke it off with her by text. So I used it to snare her, promising that he’d made a mistake. And I arranged a meeting the following night, with the promise of a fancy hotel room. That place down where the V&A is going.’

  ‘And she thought you were him?’

  ‘Douglas had let her down. Dumped her, so it took a bit of persuading. And Carly was playing it cool. She said she was going to a party with her friend, Teresa, who was meeting her boyfriend who worked in Ashworth’s afterwards. I suggested picking Carly up at the Ashworth’s car park, and we could go to the hotel room I booked for some sexy fun. She agreed. Carly turned up, but Teresa had given her a lift there.’ Mike smiled. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck. Both my son’s tormentors in one place.’

  ‘Wait a second. She’d know what car Mr McLean drove.’

  ‘Correct. A silver Skoda Octavia, the one I’d seen dropping her off so many times.’

  ‘Did you buy one?’

  ‘Didn’t have to.’ Mike leaned forward again. ‘Dougie called me on his phone. I pretended to be someone who had found it. I arranged to hand him the phone in the car park at the top of the Law, said I’d be driving a BMW 3-series.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘No. I waited for Dougie, for a lot longer than I expected, but he turned up. Then I had to wait for a young couple to leave. He phoned me back, and I said I’d been held up with work. But when the couple left, I went over.’

  ‘Did he recognise you?’

  ‘Didn’t give him a chance. I knocked on the window and he started to get out. I wrapped my arms around him.’ Mike enacted it on his lawyer, applying a sleeper hold. ‘I’ve seen this in films and the wrestling on TV. I found a few videos on YouTube. It cuts off the flow of blood to the brain and knocks people out.’

  ‘You did this to Mr McLean?’

  ‘About half an hour before I was due to meet Carly. I tied him up in the bushes and drove off.’

  This was all fitting together too well. Vicky didn’t know whether his son had told him it all, but… But it felt more likely that Mike Wilkie had killed her.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I drove over to Ashworth’s. Carly and Teresa weren’t there, so I was relieved. Then I waited, and started to worry that I’d missed them. But I saw them approach, in that old thing Teresa was driving. I let them see the car, left it in a cone of light, then waited in the darkness. They drove up and got out. I pulled a knife and forced Teresa into the boot of the Skoda.’

  ‘And Carly?’

  ‘She resisted me. She wasn’t going to run. I had her friend’s life in my hands. But she grabbed my mask and pulled it free. She saw who it was. And she ran. I chased, but I fell over.’

  ‘On her?’

  ‘No. On the ice. The knife scattered. I lost it under a car. And she was shouting at me, calling me boomerang man’s dad. Asking if I had the same deformed penis. Kicking me. And saying what he was wearing in the video.’

  ‘The video?’

  ‘She’d recorded my son on a video call. Got him to wear my wife’s bra and pants. And I lost it. I grabbed her leg and pulled her over. She might’ve slipped on the ice, but she kept calling me “boomerang dad” and I lost it. I strangled her with my gloved hands. And she was dead.’

  Vicky sat in the cool silence, just Adamson’s pen making any sound. ‘Then what?’

  ‘What do you think? I panicked, of course. I drove off.’

  ‘With Teresa in the boot.’

  ‘Right. I’d forgotten about her. And I drove around the town, trying to figure out a plan. Then I got a call from you, Victoria, saying that my son was a suspect in Carly’s murder. It all hit home. It was getting worse. You’d found her body. You’d linked my son to her. But you let him go when he told you about Dougie McLean, didn’t you? So I drove him home, and left him with Jane. I told her I was going to have a word with Ryan Ennis.’

  ‘You were trying to frame McLean for your crime.’

  ‘He was a guilty man, so what was one more crime?’

  Brutal.

  ‘I found some videos on his phone. A young girl being raped. Screaming as he tied her up. Pleading. I realised I was dealing with someone who deserved what they were getting.’

  ‘You should’ve handed that over to the police.’

  ‘Well, I did the next best thing. I switched the phone on and ran. My car was down the hill. I saw the blue lights as I got in and drove off. Listen, when I met him and he was asking for his phone back, I told him I’d found a website open, with that video, marked as Catriona. I got him to strip off, told him to stay there. Get in his car and phone back in two hours. And I came back. I drove them up to the Law. It was harder to knock him out than Teresa, but I put him in the car, sleeping, with Teresa in the boot, and I switched his phone on. I knew you’d find him quickly, or he’d wake up. So he was a guilty man. What harm was there in adding murder to it? It might help you secure his conviction.’

  ‘But it wasn’t him.’

  ‘No. The guilt ate at me. I’d killed someone. A young girl, her whole life ahead of her. She’d wronged my son, but I’d taken her life. I was just trying to help my son.’

  18

  Dougie McLean looked tired, but was clearly trying to hide it with his usual bluster and confidence. Still, he wouldn’t make eye contact with Vicky. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  She sat back enough to make the chair creak. ‘You do.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about my life.’

  ‘I know about the t
hree or so hours where you were knocked out and held in captivity naked at the monument.’

  Now he made eye contact. ‘Right.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Maybe.’ McLean stared up at the ceiling. ‘I mean… Aye. I was attacked at the Law. And you woke us up there. But…’ He frowned. ‘I woke up in the bushes, some boy was there. Asking me loads of questions.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘This and that.’

  ‘Come on. What was he asking?’

  ‘Nothing much. Shite about Carly. About Teresa.’

  ‘Did you see him?’

  ‘Hardly. It was pitch black. He’d tied me up, so I couldn’t move.’

  ‘That’s how you left Catriona Gordon.’

  ‘Come on, you’re still on about that?’

  ‘Your fingerprints are all over the crime scene.’

  ‘Keep telling you, that lassie had this fantasy about—’

  ‘Don’t.’ Vicky’s glare shut him down. ‘It wasn’t some sex game gone wrong. You raped her. And you left her tied up. You ate beans on toast in her kitchen. Then you collected another fare on the street. She would have died if we hadn’t found her.’

  McLean sat there, arms wrapped tight around his torso. ‘What’s my help worth?’

  ‘It’ll give you a clean conscience.’

  McLean laughed.

  ‘It’ll help prosecute the man who attacked you. The man who stole your car, stole your phone, who knocked you out, tied you up and left you in the bushes.’

  McLean exhaled slowly, then nodded fast. ‘So what do you want to know?’

  ‘Just anything about this place you were in.’

  ‘Okay. Well, like I told you in my interview and you didn’t believe me, I went to the Law, to meet the boy who’d nicked my phone. Right? Only, someone attacked me. Grabbed me from behind, wrapped his arms around my throat and the next thing I know, I wake up in the bushes.’

  ‘Did you see anything that might—?’

  ‘Pitch black, like I said. And my head was full of mince.’

  Which backed up Mike Wilkie’s story. ‘You were very evasive about your location at the time of Carly’s murder. And with Catriona’s rape.’