Ghost in the Machine (20 page)

"Aye, it's another dead end." Cullen stroked the back of his neck, thinking. "There might be another way. They could have been chatting from their work computers."

McNeill nodded. "Good idea. I'll get Charlie or Dave on to it. We'll need a RIPSA." She returned to her machine and found the form. They were now experts at filling them in and it took only a couple of minutes before they printed it out. "Let's see if we can get it approved."

They looked over at Bain and Turnbull.

"Right, Jim, I'll get someone onto that," said Bain, arms folded tight.

"Please do, Brian," said Turnbull, "I'm sure there are synergies we can leverage here." He nodded at them and walked off at a pace.
 

"Leveraging bloody synergies." Bain looked up at Cullen and McNeill then got to his feet. "Right, where were we?"

McNeill explained the situation.

"Right, Butch," said Bain, "I want you and a few big ugly bastards in uniforms going round the doors in Caroline's street, see if anybody saw anything when he was swiping her laptop. I'll get Miller to do the usual checks for stolen goods and go through some CCTV."

"Kidd can do some searches on the victims' work PCs," said McNeill.

"Get him on it," said Bain.

McNeill handed him the RIPSA form. "Sign this."

Bain didn't look at the content as he scrawled his signature on the form. "Right, Sundance, what's happened to this stem cell search?"

"Cell site," said Cullen, correcting him. "I got the results back. The call was made from the area around where the body turned up, just before she left the bar in the hotel and went to the room."

"Like I said earlier, big wow," said Bain. "Do you know how much this has cost?"

Cullen shrugged. "No idea."

"Three fuckin' grand," said Bain.

"You know how much the PF loves a clear timeline," said McNeill. "This will help with that."

Bain took a kick at the bin beside him, sending it flying. "Don't talk to me like that. For Christ's sake, Cullen's just spunked a few grand on a waste of fuckin' time here."

"If you'd let us get on with our jobs," said McNeill, "we might-"

Bain's glare stopped her in her tracks. "Sergeant, you do as I say on this case, all right? If I say wash my car, you wash my bloody car, okay?"

McNeill's head bowed.

"I want you to head over to Smith's Place," said Bain, "get those officers going round doors. I want to find out how he got this laptop."

"Fine."

"What about me?" said Cullen, aware he was in grave danger of deflecting Bain's ire onto him.

"Well, Sundance, seeing as how you did such a good job in finding Caroline Adamson before she was killed, I've got another missing person for you to look into."

Cullen's Golf crawled towards the traffic lights in Portobello, the ageing engine rattling slightly. All the squad cars were out, presumably on this particular case, so he'd taken his own car, having left it in the station car park before the previous night's impromptu drinking.

Bain had assigned this investigation to him out of spite. He honestly thought he'd been doing his best - he'd done everything by the book and he'd found leads left, right and centre - and yet he was being side-lined, shunted out to Musselburgh. He wasn't even fit to phone through Caroline Adamson's friends list any more.

He headed along Harry Lauder Road, powering past the train yards and the low-rent industrial units. He struck lucky at the other end, managing to get on to the A1 with only a single cycle of the new lights. He pulled off at Old Craighall and headed into Musselburgh from the south.

The address Bain had given him was near the railway station, across from the new Queen Margaret's University campus. He drove down streets of post-war terraces before turning into a modern brick-built estate and spotting a panda car parked outside the house.

A stern-faced female PC answered the door.

He showed his warrant card. "DC Cullen."

"PC Campbell."

"I've been asked to take over the case for CID," said Cullen. "Can you bring me up to speed?"

"We got the call from the station," said Campbell. "The lassie's a Gail McBride - her husband called in to report her missing. She was just out for a few drinks with her pal up the town, was supposed to be back on the last train."

"And when did he call it in?"

"Couple of hours ago," said Campbell.

"And she's been missing since last night?"

"Aye."

"MisPer report filed?" said Cullen.

"Aye." Campbell reached into a bag and handed him a copy.

Cullen had a look through. The photo was good - the missing woman was an intense-looking redhead, reasonably attractive. He flicked through the report. It didn't add much to what she'd just told him or to Bain's briefing. "Any other officers here?"

"Just Jimmy McKay," said Campbell. "He's making some tea the now, if you want some?"

"I'm fine."

"They've not wasted much time in getting CID in," said Campbell. "Must be that Caroline Adamson case that's all over the papers."

"And Debi Curtis," said Cullen, unable to help himself.
 

"Are they linked?"

"Definitely the same killer." Cullen nodded slowly, then exhaled. "Let's go inside."

Campbell led through to the living room. The house was decorated in vibrant colours - strong yellows, oranges, lime greens. The sitting room was a light purple - a pair of orange settees sat to either side of a large LCD TV, mounted on the wall.
 

"Mr McBride," said Campbell in a patronising tone. "This is DC Cullen from CID. He'll help us search for your wife."

Simon McBride sat on one of the sofas, his eyes red. He was a big man, his head shaved, ginger stubble showing through. He was sharply dressed.

Cullen smiled politely as he sat. "Do you have any idea where your wife might have gone?"

McBride just shrugged.

"Could she maybe have gone to her parents, or visited any friends?" said Cullen.

McBride shrugged again. "Don't think so."

"Who have you tried contacting?" said Cullen.

"Well, her parents," said McBride. "Her brother's in Ayr, but she hadn't heard from him in months."

"Any friends?"

"Not really, no," said McBride. "Just Sian, I suppose. That's who Gail was meeting last night. They often go out on a Friday, usually to one of the pubs in town, but Sian couldn't make it this week so they went out last night instead."

"By town," said Cullen, "do you mean Edinburgh or Musselburgh?"

"Edinburgh."

Cullen jotted it all down. "What's Sian's surname?"

"Saunders. They work together. As I say, they were going out in town. They work out at the Gyle, so it's halfway home, they just get off the train at Waverley. She was in work yesterday on overtime, supposed to be off today."

"What time did they arrange to meet?"

"I can't remember," said McBride. "I think it was the back of six."

"What time did you start to get concerned?" said Cullen.

"I don't know, really." McBride exhaled. "I was watching the game last night, had a couple of cans. When I turned the telly off it was about half ten, so I just went to bed."

"Does your wife often come back after you've gone to bed?"

McBride looked away. "She does, aye."

"So it was only this morning you first noticed she hadn't come home?"

McBride shrugged again. "Aye. About seven. I started calling her mates from work, starting with Sian."

"Have any of her clothes gone?" said Cullen.

"Not that I've noticed."

"What did Sian say happened?"

"She said they got the train back together," said McBride. "Sian stays in the Pans, so she saw her off the train at Musselburgh."

"And that's the last she saw of her?"

"Aye," said McBride. "I spoke to her this morning. She hadn't seen Gail on the train to work, so she was a bit worried. She's managed to swing a half day, see if she could help me find Gail."

Cullen jotted a few more notes. "How have you tried contacting your wife?"

McBride frowned. "I sent her a text."

"A
text?
" said Cullen. "You didn't try to phone her?"

McBride looked away. "Well, aye, I did after. No answer."

This guy's a tube, thought Cullen. "Did you go out to look for your wife?"

"Well, I had a wee look out on the street," said McBride, "but I didn't want to venture too far in case she came back."

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you haven't bothered to look for her?"

A tear appeared on McBride's cheek. "Things haven't been great between us. She... She might have left me."

"Do you have an address for Ms Saunders?"

Sian Saunders lived in part of an ex-council block just off the top road in Prestonpans, a short walk to the railway station, two stops down the line from Musselburgh. Cullen parked in the station car park and walked over. He rang the buzzer and waited.

"Hello?" The voice through the intercom system was heavily distorted.

"Ms Saunders? It's DC Cullen of Lothian & Borders police. Can you let me in?"

The door clunked open. The dark hallway was painted red on the lower half, then cream above - Cullen could never understand why they did that. He went upstairs, passing a large window, and was astonished by the change. There were plants on the balcony and the walls were painted a fresh cream shade. Cullen figured the downstairs flats were probably still council-owned, but the upstairs were now private.

Sian Saunders was standing in the doorway, tall and thin with bright ginger hair tied back in a long ponytail, an intense look in her eyes. "Come in. I've just got back." She turned around and went into the flat.

The inside was roasting - it felt like the heating was on full blast, despite it being the middle of summer.
 

"I'm through here," said Sian.

Cullen followed the voice through to the kitchen.

She was distractedly mashing a teabag against the side of the cup. There was a half-empty bottle of red wine on the counter, beside a takeaway pizza box. "I'm just back from work. Simon told me Gail's disappeared, so I've taken a half day. I was just going to head over to their house after I've had a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?"

"Tea," said Cullen. "Just milk, thanks."

Sian made him a cup of tea, tipping in milk from a carton sitting on the counter. She put their cups on a tray and led the way through to the living room. She sat in the armchair, folding her legs up under her, Cullen sitting on the settee opposite. There was a good view out of the window, across the railway line looking up to Tranent perched on the hill the other side of the dual carriageway.

Cullen took out his notebook. "Can you tell me about your movements last night? You and Mrs McBride."

"We were at a bar in town," said Sian.

"Which bar was this?"

"The one on the corner of George Street, at the St Andrews Square end," said Sian. "Grape, I think it's called."

"Is this a regular meeting on a Sunday?" said Cullen.

"No," said Sian. "I was away at the weekend, so we didn't go out on Friday. We were both in work yesterday, so we went out last night instead."

"And you left the bar together?"

"Aye, we got the last train home. We'd only meant to have a couple of glasses, but ended up getting sloshed."

"What time was the last train?"

"Just after eleven," said Sian. "Five past, I think."

"So the last time you saw Mrs McBride was when she got off the train?"

Sian blew on her tea. "I watched her walk up the path to the road, but aye."

"Did you see anyone suspicious get off the train?" said Cullen. "Anyone lurking at the station?"

"No," said Sian, quickly. "I wasn't looking, mind."

Cullen took a mouthful of tea, far too weak for him. "Did Simon McBride call you this morning?"

"Aye, back of eight." She sat back and folded her arms. "I was just getting to work. He said she'd not come home. He didn't seem too bothered. Things haven't been great between them."

From the way Simon McBride seemed earlier, Cullen could understand why. "How do you mean, not great?"

"Well, she was pretty fed up with him," said Sian.

"Had she talked about leaving him?"

"A couple of times," said Sian. "She was talking about it last night."

"Do you have any reason to suspect her husband of foul play?"

"No." Sian shook her head. "Simon's not the sharpest card in the deck."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, he's good at his job," said Sian. "He sells pensions, but all he's into is football and rugby. He's not got a bad bone in his body, really. I know him fairly well, he'd never harm her."

"I see," said Cullen. "Do you think he had any suspicions Gail was thinking of leaving him?"

"I doubt it," said Sian. "They barely talked."

"How do you think he would react if she did?"

"Gail's his life," said Sian. "He'd just fall to pieces. He'd struggle to cope. She practically babies him, does all the cooking, washing and cleaning and that. He loves her to bits, but she's... Well."

Cullen handed her his card. "I'll be in touch."

Cullen leaned against the side of his car and called Bain.

"Hello there, Sundance," said Bain. "How's sunny Musselburgh?"

"I'm in Prestonpans now," said Cullen.

"Okay, how's sunny Prestonpans then?"

"Yeah, great," said Cullen. "I'm pretty much done here. I've just been speaking to the friend she was out with."

"Oh aye?"

"Gail McBride was out in Edinburgh with a friend last night," said Cullen. "The friend says she saw her off the North Berwick train at Musselburgh. She's gone missing in the three hundred metres between the train station and her house. Her husband went to bed after the football last night. She didn't come back."

"I see." Bain sounded disinterested. "And you believe him?"

"I've no reason not to."

"And this pal said she saw her off the train and that's it?" said Bain.