The Complaints

‘You married?’

‘Girlfriend.’

‘How serious?’

‘Only a couple of months – she’s not moved in yet. How about you?’

‘I used to be married,’ Fox replied.

‘Family life’s tough when you’re a cop,’ Breck decided.

‘Yes, it is,’ Fox agreed. He was thinking about the girlfriend. Plenty of abusers and offenders had partners. It made for good cover – ‘the quiet family man’. Only a tiny part of their everyday life was given over to their secret self. On the other hand, there were probably lots of men out there who’d stumbled upon websites they wished they hadn’t, then had lingered… not altogether sure why. Drawn in by something.

How many, though, ended up handing over their credit card?

‘Is that what you’ve got so far?’ Fox asked. ‘Marooned and some Welsh rugby fans?’

‘That’s about it.’

‘No sightings Sunday or Monday?’

‘It’s early days, Inspector.’

Fox nodded and thought of something. ‘Where did he work?’ ‘You don’t know?’

‘I know he was a labourer…’

‘He was on a short-term contract at Salamander Point.’

‘I thought it had gone bust?’

‘Not quite.’ They had almost reached the end of Dewar Place Lane. Breck touched Fox on the shoulder. ‘Best if we split up here.’

Fox nodded. ‘Thanks for the chat.’

Breck smiled and stuck out his hand. The two men shook.

7

Fox called Lauder Lodge from the car. They asked if he wanted to speak to his father, but he told them just to pass on the message. He couldn’t take Mitch to Jude’s today. Maybe tomorrow.

Marooned was about halfway between Torphichen Place and Saughtonhall. It was down a side street, not far from the Heart of Midlothian stadium. Fox didn’t get out of the car, just sat there long enough to get an idea of the place. The single-storey brick building dated back to the seventies. Must have been a gap site at one time, maybe a garage or builder’s yard before that. Four-storey tenements flanked it, with another across the street. A chalkboard to the left of the main door promised quiz nights, karaoke and hot food. There was a double-measure/single-price deal on spirits. Just the one CCTV camera, bolted high up on the wall and protected by a wire cage. Fox knew he could go inside and flash his warrant card, ask to see the footage, but what good would it do? And if word got back to Billy Giles that he’d been there… Instead, he executed a three-point turn and got back on to the road to Saughtonhall.

The door was answered by a woman he didn’t know. He introduced himself as Jude’s brother.

‘I’m Sandra,’ the woman said. ‘Sandra Hendry.’ She was around Jude’s age, with dark, tired eyes and a blotchy face. The outfit – artfully ripped and patched denims; top trimmed to show her midriff – would have suited someone half her age and forty pounds lighter. Her hair resembled candyfloss, begi

‘In a minute.’ They were in the living room by now. The place looked relatively tidy. The woman called Sandra had retreated to the armchair and was crossing one leg over the other. The TV was on, but with the sound just audible. A ta

‘Love this,’ Sandra commented. Fox noticed that one of her ankles sported a tattoo of a scorpion.

‘How’s she doing?’ Fox asked, commencing a circuit of the room.

‘Just got back from the Gestapo…’ She broke off and stared at him, eyes widening as she remembered what Jude’s brother did for a living.

‘I’ve heard worse,’ he reassured her.

‘She was shattered, reckoned a nap might help.’

Fox nodded his understanding. Flipping open the lid of the kitchen bin, he saw that its i

‘I appreciate you looking after her.’

Sandra shrugged. ‘My shift doesn’t start till four.’

‘Where do you work?’

‘The Asda on Chesser Avenue.’ She offered him a stick of gum, but he shook his head. The empty bottles and cans had gone. Ashtrays had been cleaned. The breakfast bar now boasted only a couple of dirty mugs and a pizza carton.

‘Did you ever meet Vince?’ Fox asked.

‘Four of us used to go out.’

‘You and your partner?’

‘He works with Vince.’ She paused, stopped chewing. ‘Past tense, I suppose.’

‘He’s in construction, then?’

She nodded. ‘Foreman – Vince’s boss, I suppose.’

‘So was it your partner who took Vince on?’

She shrugged. ‘Husband, not partner. Sixteen years – you’d get less for murdering someone, that’s what Ro

‘He’s probably right. You and Ro

‘Suppose so.’

‘Ever end up at a place called Marooned?’

‘That shit-hole? Not if we could help it. In the better weather, the boys liked the Golf Tavern – meant they could play pitch ’n’ putt on Bruntsfield Links.’

‘You and Jude didn’t play?’

‘Di

‘Which casino?’

‘The Oliver.’

‘At Ocean Terminal?’ He’d finished looking around and was standing in the middle of the room, facing her as she stared at the TV.

‘That’s the one.’

‘Not far from Salamander Point, then.’

‘Within staggering distance.’

Fox nodded to himself. ‘What did you make of him, Sandra?’

At mention of her name, she peered up at him. ‘Vince, you mean?’ She considered his question. ‘He was all right – bit of a laugh when you got him in the right mood.’

‘Meaning he sometimes wasn’t?’

‘I knew he had a temper – but Jude’s not exactly lacking in that department either.’

‘What do you think about him breaking her arm?’

‘She says she fell.’

‘But we both know she didn’t.’

‘My motto is: don’t get involved. Just leads to more grief.’ Her interest in him had waned. Onscreen, the dog-handler was making obvious progress.

‘But you’re her friend… you must’ve…’ Fox broke off, thinking to himself: you’re her brother, and you didn’t. ‘I’m going to go upstairs, ’ he said instead.

Sandra nodded distractedly. ‘I’d offer to make you a cuppa, but we’re all out.’

The door to Vince’s den was wide open and Fox saw that his computer had been removed by the investigators. Jude’s bedroom door was ajar. He knocked and pushed it all the way open. His sister was sitting on the bed, surrounded by piles of clothes. The fitted wardrobe had been half emptied, along with the chest of drawers. It was all Faulkner’s stuff – his jeans and T-shirts, socks and pants. Jude was holding a short-sleeved shirt in her good hand, working at the cloth with her fingers. She was sniffing back tears.

‘I can still smell him – on the sheets, the pillows… Part of him’s still here.’ She paused for a moment and gave her brother a look. ‘Know what they told me, Malcolm? They said we can’t have the funeral. They need to hold on to his body. Might take weeks, they said. Nobody knows how long.’

There was a corner of the bed going spare, so Fox rested his weight there, but stayed silent.

‘Sandra says we need to start cancelling stuff and telling the proper authorities. But what’s left of him after that?’ She sniffed again, and rubbed her forearm across her eyes. ‘They kept asking me all these questions. They think I did it…’

‘They don’t.’ Fox assured her, reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.

‘That man… Giles, his name was… he kept on at me about Vince being an abuser – that’s the word he used, “abuser”. He said Vince had past convictions. He said they were for violence. Told me no one would blame me for getting my own back. But that’s not what happened, Malcolm.’

‘Giles knows that, Jude – they all do.’