Devil in the Detail (Scott Cullen Mysteries) (40 page)

Cullen hadn't expected that. Bain's eyes were wide. Lamb swore under his breath. McLintock tried to cover how rattled he was by writing in his pad but his bulging eyes betrayed the shock. The light on the recorder blinked away in the silence of the room.

"Can you elaborate?" asked Cullen.

A Red Bull can was still on the table. Cook fiddled with the ring pull, bending it back and forth. "He fucked me every week for two and a half years," he said.
 

Tears were coming thick and fast. Cullen thought Cook looked defenceless, innocent and appeared younger, closer to his actual age.
 

"This tuition or counselling or whatever it was that Mulgrew ran," continued Cook, "that was when he fucked me. He'd sometimes take me to this shack by the ponds and he'd fuck me there."

Mulgrew had said that Jamie Cook fantasised about abusing children in the shack. Cullen had found Mulgrew's body in it and Mulgrew had abused Cook there.

"He used to take me there some times, put me on the mattress," said Cook. "I tried to blot it out but it's impossible."

"Father Mulgrew told us that you told him about fantasies of abusing children in a shack," said Cullen.

"Did he?" Cook shook his head. "Sick bastard. He took my virginity there, took my future away as well."

"Did you not say anything to your parents?" asked Cullen.

"How the hell could I?" said Cook. "Mulgrew was like Jesus to the pair of them. They'd never believe me."

"There would be evidence," said Cullen.

Cook looked at him, eyes hard. He glanced at Lamb then looked away. "The police wouldn't have believed me," he said, out of the corner of his mouth. "Who would you have listened to? Pillar of the community or tearaway rebel? What a difficult choice that is. It would just be his word against mine."

"What did he do to you?" asked Lamb.

"He fucked me up the arse," said Cook.

Lamb spoke in a quiet, soft voice. "Jamie, there would have been evidence against him. You would be surprised what can be done."

Cook shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"You weren't always a tearaway," said Lamb.

"I was fourteen when he started this," said Cook. "I couldn't say anything. He just destroyed my life in so many ways. All the rumours - Jamie is a bad boy, Jamie is possessed by the fucking devil. He was a master."

"You didn't exactly help your case," said Bain. "Underage drinking, fighting, drugs, pissing against churches, God knows what else."

Cook shrugged. "It was just a reaction to it," he said. "It just played into Mulgrew's hands, though, didn't it?"

"I'm prepared to believe you," said Cullen, "but I need you to confirm something for me."

Cook looked up. Cullen caught a glimpse of what might be hope in the boy's eye. "What?"

"What happened with Kirsty-Jane?" asked Cullen.

Cook slammed the can down on the table. "Nothing happened."

"Jamie, you were charged with rape."

"She consented," said Cook.

"Did she?"

"She did, aye."

"That's not what her old man thought," said Cullen.

Cook clenched his fists. "Don't mention him."

"Jamie, what happened when you were taken in for questioning?" asked Cullen.

Cook looked over at McLintock. The solicitor had been quietly listening for the last few minutes - Cullen couldn't decide whether he felt Cook's statement would help his case or he was just too stunned.
 

Cook leaned over and whispered into McLintock's ear. McLintock thoughtfully tapped his pen against the paper for a few seconds. Eventually, he whispered something back.

"He beat me up," said Cook.

"Who beat you up?"

"Kirsty's Dad," said Cook. "There were a couple of others who watched."

"Thanks, Jamie," said Cullen. "Did you at any point pressurise her into having sex with you?"

Cook took a long deep breath. "I might have done," he said.
 

"Can you elaborate?"

"I wanted to prove that I was normal," said Cook. "I wanted to have sex with a girl, try to show that I could. I felt so much pressure. I didn't want to be a fucking poof."

"There's nothing wrong with being homosexual," said Cullen.

Cook glared at him. "Aye, but I'm not."

"Did you feel like you weren't normal?" asked Cullen.

"No, I didn't," said Cook.
 

"You can get counselling, you know," said Cullen.
 

"That's no fucking use," said Cook. "My life is over. I've got no future." Spit flecked his mouth. He stared at Bain. "You want to know what I was thinking about in that park on Sunday night. You were joking about me being Stephen Hawking. I was thinking about killing myself."

Cullen watched Bain. He saw his Adam's apple rise and fall.

"And you didn't rape her?" asked Cullen.

"As my client said, Kirsty-Jane Platt gave consent for penetrative intercourse," said McLintock. "There is no insinuation of rape."

Cook laughed. "You know something?" he said. "If I had topped myself, you'd have had three deaths. You'd have nailed Mulgrew for killing Mandy earlier as well. He would have had no-one to pin Mandy's death on if I was gone."

"Jamie," said Cullen, leaning across the desk, "why would Mulgrew kill Mandy?"

Cook wiped his eyes. "She got the same treatment as I had once I left," he said. "She had a fucking devil inside her, didn't she? A few months ago, Thomas told me she was away twice a week with him after I left the group." He crushed the can in his hand. "I feel sick. Me leaving that group meant that he picked on her."

Cullen looked at Bain for guidance; he looked shell-shocked.

"You know what has kept me up at night for the last few months?" asked Cook. "It was the thought of Mulgrew moving on to my brother and sister when he became fed up of Mandy. He had experience of both sexes, didn't he? He could have no end of twisted fucking games with them."

"Right," said Bain, "interview terminated at 9.03pm."

They sat in silence. Cullen didn't know what to say.

Lamb spoke up finally. "Jamie, you need counselling."

*

"So do you believe him?" asked Bain.

They were back in the Incident Room. Bain kicked Caldwell and two other officers out so they could have a private conversation.

"Not sure," said Lamb.

"I believe him," said Cullen. "It's whether you think that this puts him in the clear for killing Mulgrew or puts him in the frame."

Bain screwed his face up. "Eh?"

"If we believe that Mulgrew had been abusing him," said Cullen, "which seems likely. We've got statements pointing to the fact that Mulgrew was a known paedophile and, it would appear, had been abusing Mandy Gibson as well." Cullen took a pause. "What I'm thinking is that this means one of two things - either Jamie Cook had nothing to do with the killing of Seamus Mulgrew or it was some sort of revenge or vigilante action."

"You keep changing your fuckin' tune, Cullen," said Bain. "One minute, he's innocent, the next he's guilty. Which is it?"

"This is a tough case," said Cullen. "We have very little in the way of hard evidence. We will need a confession to secure this one. All I'm doing is trying to do is keep an open mind about it and let the facts speak for themselves."

Bain scowled at Cullen. "I've warned you before about you and your fuckin' games."

Cullen shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not playing any games," he said. "We have the very real possibility that Jamie Cook killed Mulgrew."

"How's that alibi checking out?" asked Bain.

"We were waiting on his solicitor coming in," said Cullen.

"Fuck sake," said Bain. "That fuckin' Cadder case has really fucked our procedures up. Every little toe rag we bring in thinks they're on NYPD fuckin' Blue and they get a phone call and a fuckin' lawyer." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me know when he's in, right?"

"Will do."

Bain looked at Lamb. "What do you think, Sergeant?" he asked.

Lamb took a deep breath, all the time looking at Cullen. "I think Scott's right," he said. "We need to keep an open mind on this."

"Fuckin' pair of you," muttered Bain.
 

"Have you brought Gibson in?" asked Cullen.

Bain paused. "No."

"No?" shouted Cullen. "Why not? We've got two statements that imply that he is involved in the death of his daughter. We really need to speak to him."

"Cullen, this is the last warning," snapped Bain. "Shut it. Until you are the SIO on a case then you don't get to call the fuckin' shots, all right?"

Cullen shook his head. "You're making a mistake."

Bain stroked his moustache for a few seconds. "We can't find him."

Lamb laughed hard. "This gets better, doesn't it?"

"I'm going to tolerate no more of your nonsense, Bill," said Bain.

"You need to bring Charles Gibson in," said Lamb.

Bain took a deep breath. "I will, once we find him."
 

"Shouldn't we get out to Garleton and look for him?" asked Cullen.
 

"I'll let Lamb's boys sort that one out," said Bain. He stroked his moustache for a few seconds, lost in thought. "It feels like we're grasping at things. I want us to get some hard evidence against someone."

"Chance would be a fine thing," said Lamb.

Bain glared at him. "It's time we visited the lair of Jimmy Deeley," he said. "I want to twist the knife in on Mulgrew's postmortem."

Bain, Cullen and Lamb were in the basement of the station in Deeley's mortuary office. Cullen thought that Deeley looked like a 70s horror star in the dim light of his office, still wearing the medical gown that would protect him and his subject. Deeley would fit well in one of those weird horror films Cullen's Dad liked - Steve Martin had been in one he could remember - camply cutting up bodies, dead or alive, before unleashing a barrage of quips.

"You've seen the report, Brian," said Deeley, rocking back on his chair. "What else do you need me to spell out for you?"

"Aye, very good, Jimmy," said Bain. "Let me know if you ever get good at catching criminals."

"You, too," said Deeley, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

"If we both stick to what we're good at then we might get there with this case," said Bain, trying for once to add some gravitas. "So can you please spell it out for us?"

Deeley sighed loudly. "Fine," he said. He opened the report and leafed through the pages until he found the summary. "It's very similar to your other body. There are more contusions to the wrists which show more struggling. Again, the bruising was perimortem, as with Mandy Gibson. I didn't find any similar artefacts on the lungs but then the victim is much older and had clearly been a smoker so that's within the realms of possibility."

"Is it homicidal?"

"Most definitely," said Deeley.

"Suffocation?" asked Bain.

"Absolutely," said Deeley.

"With a pillow?"

Cullen knew they hadn't managed to find the pillow used to suffocate Mandy. He doubted that it would ever turn up.

Deeley scanned along a line in the paperwork with his finger. "Hmm, not sure," he said. "With Mandy, we found small traces of white cotton in her gums, in keeping with suffocation by a pillow."

"But for Mulgrew?"

"Let me see," said Deeley. He took a large A4 photographic print from the folder and picked up a magnifying glass from his desk. He inspected the photo and then gave up. "Since they made us go digital it's made this that much bloody harder." He put the file down then stood up.

He led them from his office, into the morgue itself. The icy cold room contained stacked lockers which held the bodies waiting for autopsy or, like Mulgrew and Mandy Gibson, waiting while investigation into their deaths concluded. Deeley pulled two racks out, one after the other, first Mulgrew and then Mandy.

"Here we go," said Deeley. "You boys have a look at Mandy. I need to have another check on Mulgrew."

Cullen could feel his stomach churn. Mandy lay there, her skin ice white. She looked a lot younger than her thirteen years. He focused himself, determined not to lose the contents of his stomach as he had so infamously done the previous summer.
 

"Gentlemen," said Deeley. The three officers turned to face him. He was on tiptoes, leaning across the body, using some metal medical tool to prise Mulgrew's mouth open. "There are no traces of cotton, synthetic fibre, duck down, or anything of the sort. No traces of anything at all, other than some bread, which was consistent with the victim's last meal of soup and bread." He fiddled around with Mulgrew's lips and paused. "Oh, bloody hell."

"What is it, Jimmy?" asked Bain.

Deeley pointed at Mulgrew's top lip. "Look at that."
 

"You must think I'm younger than I actually am, Jimmy," said Bain, "but my eyesight isn't as good as it used to be."

Cullen leaned in close. He could just make out small blotches. "Bruises," he said.

"Five points to Gryffindor," said Deeley. "There are small contusions on the victim's lips."

"And?" asked Bain. From the way that Bain barked the word out, it was obvious to Cullen that Bain was growing tired of Deeley's showboating.

Deeley rolled his eyes. "It is a tell-tale sign of manual strangulation," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This." Deeley walked over and grabbed Bain. He put him in a choke hold and put his free hand over Bain's mouth and nose. Bain struggled manically. Deeley eventually let go, but to Cullen it seemed maybe a bit later than was strictly necessary.
 

"The killer didn't use a pillow," said Deeley, "he used his hands."

Bain dusted himself down. "Right, cheers, Jimmy." He stood looking at Mulgrew for a few seconds. Deeley started putting the racks back in the lockers.
 

Bain turned to Cullen and Lamb. "Where does that lead us, then?"

"We know that the killer knew the MO of Mandy's death," said Cullen, "and that he tried to make them look the same."

"You could be right," said Bain. "What about the fact that one was done with a pillow and the other with hands?"