Ghost in the Machine (17 page)

"Eh?"

"Come on, what's the matter with you?" said Bain. "Make it clearer."

"That sort of stuff only happens in films," said Cullen.

Bain's grey skin flared purple at the cheeks. "Right." He cleared his throat.
 

As far as Cullen knew, only he and Miller had actually met Rob Thomson. "Have you even seen him in person?"

"Aye," said Bain. "He's downstairs."

"You've spoken to him?" said Cullen.

"Aye," said Bain. "I went in and had a wee chat then I left him to stew in his own juice, waiting for his lawyer to turn up. Wait till I show him this."

Cullen shook his head. "I can't see this being admissible as evidence."

Bain glared at Cullen. "Miller, show him the other bit."

Miller skipped forward to 11.30am. The view switched to a self-service till, people looking bored, one middle-aged woman getting progressively angry with the machine. Cullen's limited experience of the machines made him sympathise.

"If he's using self-service," said Cullen, "you won't get a witness statement from a checkout operator."

Bain growled at Miller. "Next bit."

Miller skipped forward again - the screen now showed 11.32am. The same man they'd seen earlier was now waiting in the queue. Gradually, he moved through, scanned the phone then paid with cash. Miller paused the video.

"That's certainly the time it was bought," said Cullen.

"Right." Bain leaned in. "And it
is
him."

"Is there any more?" said Cullen.

Miller pressed play. The man walked away from the till towards the front of the shop. Again, the display switched showing the same man walking across the car park.
 

All the while, Bain stayed silent until the clip finished. "That's our man."

"Yes," said Cullen.
 

"Rob Thomson," said Bain.

Cullen looked at the screen. "You can't see him clearly enough."

Bain glared at him.

Cullen took a big gulp of his coffee.
 

McNeill joined them, tapping Cullen's cup. "Could have got me one."

"Here, Butch," said Bain, "have a look at this."

Miller repeated the playback. Bain watched her reaction throughout.

"And?" she said, hand on hip.

"Oh, for Christ sake," said Bain. "I need to speak to Jim about getting some proper bloody coppers in, you pair are fuckin' useless."

"What am I supposed to see here?" said McNeill. "Big man in baseball cap buys mobile phone."

Bain held his hands out. "It's Rob Thomson."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't know, I've never met him."

Bain cracked open another can of Red Bull. "So, what have you been up to, Butch?"

"Apart from wasting another half tank of fuel getting stuck in traffic on a Sunday, Chantal and I have been out interviewing people who knew both Caroline and Debi."

"And not Rob Thomson?" said Bain.

"No, I left that to you," said McNeill. "I need to get a whole load of witness statements taken."

She looked at Miller, who swore.

"Anything else?" said Bain.

"I've got another suspect for you," said McNeill.

Bain scowled. "Who?"
 

"Alistair Cruikshank. He used to work with Caroline and Debi in the Linguistics Department. Chantal ferreted it out of them. I gather he's now training as a minister in some sect up north. Bit of a religious nut by all accounts and he made some comments to Caroline Adamson when she was getting divorced from Rob."

"And when was this?" said Bain.

"Last March," said McNeill. "Cruikshank was in his third year of a divinity degree, mature student. He needed the cash and his job mainly involved sending prospectuses out. He kept going on about how it was unlawful in the eyes of God to get divorced. He went on and on about it to anyone who'd listen. Caroline eventually made a formal complaint, backed up by Debi. He got the push."

"And who told you this?" said Bain.

"Margaret Armstrong," said McNeill.

"Caroline's boss, right?" Bain downed the rest of the can then looked at Cullen. "Did she mention any of this when you went round, Sundance?"

"I would've told you if she had."

Bain nodded. "Did anything else happen? Any threats? This seems pretty shaky stuff."

"He dropped out of his course, I believe," said McNeill. "Then he joined this sect."

"So this guy joined a cult?" said Bain. "That's your evidence?"

McNeill smiled. "He has previous. Control gave me his record. An ex-girlfriend had a restraining order taken out on him. He also made some phone calls to a girl on his course."

Bain closed his eyes. "For Christ's sake."

"He has a clear grievance against Caroline and Debi," said McNeill. "He's a strong suspect."

Bain nodded slowly. "Maybe. Any idea where he is now?"

"Up north somewhere," said McNeill. "Inverness, Forres, Nairn, someplace like that. Armstrong couldn't remember."

"Get Chantal on this," said Bain. "I don't care what Wilko or Irvine say, this is the highest priority. We need to discredit him as a suspect pretty fuckin' quickly."

"You what?" said Cullen.

"Well, now we've got two suspects," said Bain. "And this punter looks like he's got something against the two victims. Our man is clearly Rob Thomson, so we need to eliminate this second guy."

"Why's Sharon finding another suspect a problem?" said Cullen. "This could be your AN Other."

Bain gritted his teeth. "It's a problem because I've got this video footage against Rob Thomson and I'm away downstairs to give him a fuckin' doing about it."

He stood up, buttoned up his suit jacket and tightened his tie.

"Sundance, you can see how this is done."

They walked down to the ground floor in silence.

Bain held the stair door open. "Right, Sundance, I'm going to lead this, okay?"

Cullen nodded - he had no intention of trying to lead over a DI.

They turned the corner to the interview suites. Bain stopped in his tracks. "Oh, for Christ's sake."

"Hello, Inspector."

Outside the interview suite was Campbell McLintock, Edinburgh criminal defence lawyer and notorious pain in the arse. He was a thin man, wearing a purple suit, black shirt and matching purple tie. He was eye-catching, if nothing else.

"Mr McLintock," said Bain.

"I hope you don't mind me sitting in on my client's interview, Inspector?"

Bain's eyes narrowed to a slit. "Rob Thomson?"

"The same," said McLintock.

"Since when has he been your client?" said Bain.

McLintock gestured at Cullen. "Since about three o'clock on Friday when your gorilla here started prodding around at my client's workplace."

Bain sighed. "And if I refuse to let you sit in?"

McLintock raised an eyebrow. "I shall remind you of the Cadder case, Inspector."

Cullen knew it well. The case had changed everything in criminal law in Scotland. Previously, the police had six hours grace with a suspect before a lawyer got involved. Now, they had to be in from the start of the first interview, like in England. Since October, Cullen had seen outright obstruction in some interviews, with every answer "no comment". McLintock was already a specialist.

"Even if you get a judge and jury favourable to whichever distorted view of the world you're peddling this time, Inspector, I seriously doubt you'll get a conviction."

Bain just pushed past him into the interview room.

Bain and Cullen faced Rob Thomson whose hands gripped the wood of the tabletop tightly. McLintock sat next to him. The digital recorder had silently recorded the interview for more than twenty minutes.

Bain sneered. "Mr Thomson, I'll ask you one more time. Did you, as several witnesses have informed us, threaten to kill your late ex-wife, Caroline Adamson?"

Thomson slammed his hand on the table.

"For the purposes of the tape," said Bain, "that was the interviewee's hand hitting the table."

"I refer you to my client's previous response." McLintock had used that trick all along, referring back to an initial "no comment". It probably looked marginally better on a transcript, Cullen figured. They had nothing out of Thomson so far.

"What's wrong with you?" said Thomson. "I've not done anything."

"Mr Thomson," said McLintock, "please remain calm."

Bain ignored the lawyer. "You not doing anything wouldn't appear to be the case, Mr Thomson. We've heard you made death threats."

"I was at work when Caroline went missing. I've got alibis for the rest of the time. And I know you've checked them out."

"Mr McLintock, I hope your client hasn't been monitoring an active police investigation," said Bain. "As you know, the courts take a very dim view of that."

McLintock glared at his client. "Mr Thomson, can I remind you not to be goaded by the aggression shown by these police officers?"

"Okay, let's change tack shall we?" said Bain. "Where were you on Saturday evening?"

McLintock raised his hands.

"As I already told you," said Thomson, "me and Kim watched some telly, had a takeaway then went to bed early. Just ask her."

"At what point did you sneak out and kill Debi Curtis?" said Bain.

"That is not appropriate and I insist you strike this entire conversation from the record," said McLintock.

"Did you leave your flat on Saturday evening?" said Bain.

"No, I was watching TV," said Thomson. "I know Kim will back me up on this."

Bain stroked his moustache. "Back to the monitoring."

"I didn't kill Caroline or Debi," said Thomson.

"But you did threaten to kill Caroline?" said Bain.

"Inspector," said McLintock.

"I didn't," said Thomson.

"Then why would people tell us you threatened her?" said Bain.

"Inspector."

Thomson jumped to his feet and roared at them. "Why would I? Eh? Ask yourself that. I wanted out of our marriage. We both did. It was dead. When the divorce came through, I got shot of Caroline and Jack. I wanted to be with Kim. I'm
sorry
about what happened. I can't believe she's gone."

He slumped over the table, his head cradled in his arms, his shoulders heaving with sobs.
 

Bain rolled his eyes at Cullen. "Stop with the histrionics, pal. You're the number one suspect in this case."

Thomson looked up, his face damp. "This isn't right." He stabbed his finger in the air, punctuating each word. "I didn't kill her." He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, sniffing deeply. "You're wasting your time speaking to me. You should be out there finding the bastard that did this."

"Seems to me we've found the bastard," said Bain.

"Inspector."

Mucus dripped from Thomson's nose. "I told you. I was with Kim both times."

"According to you," said Bain, "and according to your bird. But for now, I'd really like to know what happened
after
you divorced your wife."

McLintock's face was almost as purple as his suit jacket. "This has absolutely nothing to do with this current investigation."

"Nothing?" said Bain. "I think it's got everything to do with it."

"I told you," said Thomson. "
Nothing
happened." He smacked his fist off the tabletop again. "Who said I did?"

Bain had a relaxed smile on his face. "Mr Thomson, you know I can't tell you that."

Thomson got his feet again. "Who told you? Eh? It's a pack of lies. All lies."

"Mr Thomson, could you sit down please?" said McLintock.

Thomson glared at Bain then did as he was told.

"Like I've already said, we have it on very good authority you made a succession of death threats against Ms Adamson," said Bain. "Apparently it's common knowledge in your home town."

Thomson ground his teeth, but didn't speak.

McLintock looked rattled. "My client would like to make no further statement on this matter."

Bain ignored the solicitor again. "How did you access Schoolbook?"

Thomson screwed his face up. "What?"

Cullen glared at Bain - what was he playing at?

"Come on, tell me," said Bain. "This account you've got on there."

"My client has no wish to comment on any accounts he has on any website," said McLintock.

"Do you use the website Schoolbook?" said Bain.

Thomson nodded slowly. "I'm on Schoolbook, aye."

"And were you friends with Ms Adamson on the site?" said Bain.

Thomson sighed, the despair and tears echoed in his breath. "I think she added me. Maybe it was the other way round, I can't remember."

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Bain. "Why did you choose the name Martin Webb?"

Thomson frowned. "
Sorry?
"

"Inspector Bain," said McLintock in a low tone, "can you please desist from these blatant accusations against my client."

"Mr McLintock," said Bain, "I'll ask the questions that I, the Senior Investigating Officer, deem relevant to the case. It's up to you to decide how you and your client respond to them."

McLintock glared at Bain and folded his arms.

"Martin Webb's the name you adopted on Schoolbook," said Bain. "The name you used while hunting down Caroline and Debi."

"Nonsense. I'm Rob Thomson on Schoolbook."

Bain raised his eyebrows. "So you say. You can have two profiles quite easily, though, I believe?"

"My client refers you to his previous answer, Inspector," said McLintock. "He has one account and one account only, in his own name."

"Can you tell us your movements on the twenty-fifth of July between eleven am and twelve noon," said Bain.

"What?"

"Answer the question," said Bain.

"I'll need my Blackberry back," said Thomson.

"Why?"

"I'll need to have a look at the calendar, won't I?"

Bain looked at Cullen. "DC Cullen, can you give Mr Thomson evidence item A, please?"

Cullen reached across and handed the bagged Blackberry over. Thomson tried opening it.

"Type through the bag, please," said Bain.

Thomson swore under his breath. Cullen watched him opening the calendar app and scrolling to the date. "Twenty-fifth of July, I was at the Alba Bank Mortgage Centre most of the morning, went back to HQ for a meeting at half twelve."