The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Seems your intel was spot on, Sergeant.” “Looks like it, sir.” Brian tried not to look smug
Colin sighed. “Mu-um. Are you listening to me?” “Sorry, Col, what were you saying?” Wilma had gone home and Maggie and her son were sitting at the dining table. “I was saying, d’you remember way back, when you went for that what-doyou-call-it?”
“No.”
“The hair thing.”
“Oh,” she chuckled, “you mean my makeover?” “Right. Well, you asked me about some guy at Gordon’s – Chris something or other.” “Christopher Gilruth.”
“And I didn’t give you an answer.”
“No. Not that that’s unusual.”
“Name didn’t click at the time.” Colin scraped the last of the food from his plate. “Chris left over a year ago.”
“That’s OK. Doesn’t matter now.”
“But, Mum…”
“Mmmm?”
“I remembered right after, only I forgot to say.” He frowned. “You know how we call one another by our nicknames at school?”
“Ye-es?”
“Well, Christopher Gilruth, the guy you were asking about… His nickname – it was Fatboy.”
Result
“Well,” Chisolm fixed his sergeant with a stare, “did you get a result?” Brian Burnett edged in the door. Dropped onto a chair. “No, sir. Not to begin with, anyhow. Suspect went ‘no comment’ at the start.” “Lawyer?”
“Lad was read his rights when he was booked in. Didn’t want to know. Mother was in bits when Drugs broke the news. Looked like she’d already done a couple of rounds in the ring, mind.” “Domestic?”
“Looks like it.”
“Likely to be pressing charges?”
“In Rubislaw Den? Fat chance.”
“The Den? So what I’ve heard is correct?”
“On the nail, sir. Got positive identification not long since: one Christopher James Gilruth.”
“Jes-us,” the inspector whistled through his teeth. “James Gilruth Junior. Who’d ever have believed we’d get one over on Gilruth?”
“Not ‘over’ exactly, sir.”
Chisolm shrugged. “Near as. Where is he, anyway, our James? From what I’ve heard of the man, I assumed he’d be in here like a bullet, with a line-up of the legal profession’s finest as long as your arm.” “Can’t be reached, sir. So we’ve been told.” “Out of town?”
“Not according to the wife. But his phone’s switched off.”
“That’s not like Gilruth. If ever there was a man who likes to be in control…”
“Mebbe he’s got himself a bidey-in.”
The inspector scoffed. “Why would he do that, Sergeant? I understand he’s got a ready supply.”
“All those hairdressers.” Brian rolled his eyes. “A free massage any time you fancy, never mind a bit of ‘personal service’ when the notion takes you.”
“Enough of that.” Chisolm changed tack. “At the start, you said? So the suspect didn’t manage to keep it up, then, the ‘no comment’?”
“You have to be joking, sir. Once that wee lassie of yours came on with her sympathy routine, he wanted to tell her his life story.” Brian smirked. “Still going, last I heard.”
“You haven’t left her in there on her own, Burnett? Once James Gilruth gets wind, our man will be down here like the bloody proverbial. Need I remind you that interview room protocol needs to be strictly adhered to? More so since…”
Problems
“Understood.” Brian didn’t need reminding. Hadn’t Maggie Laird’s problems sprung from just such a breach? “Once I’ve given you the update I’ll get back down there pronto. In the meantime I’ve somebody keeping an eye via the camera link.”
“Good man. The suspect, has he admitted to pushing the drugs? That’s what matters.”
“Yes sir. He’s owned up to the drugs. Pretty low level, from what he’s said so far. Says he’s been using since second year at school. Started supplying to friends. Went from there.”
“So why would a…” “Said he did it because he was bored.” “Bored?” Brian shrugged. “That’s what the fella said.”
“So how come this Christopher Gilruth was running that young boy? Meston, isn’t it?”
“Da’s in the nick, sir. Kid volunteered, allegedly. Wanted to maintain an income stream for his ma.”
“And this high-rise flat, what was Gilruth doing there?” “Passing the time, according to him, while his runner did trades elsewhere.”
“So,” Chisolm countered, “what’s stopping our Christopher doing the trades himself, did you manage to establish that?”
“Yes, sir. Fella thinks he’s Mister Big.”
“How old did you say this guy was?” “Nineteen.”
“Way to go. In Aberdeen, anyhow, from what I’ve heard.” “You’re right there. If the serious players get a handle on him, he’ll be mincemeat. Drugs tell me they turned up a load of B-class stuff and a heap of cash when they searched the place.”
“Hadn’t got that.”
“They’ve been watching the place for days. Seems your intel was spot on, Sergeant. Looks like it, sir.” Brian tried not to look smug. “What about the other stuff? There’s usually a bunch of kids in that flat.” “Teenagers?”
“No, sir. Little kids. Three…four…pre-school, anyhow.” The DI fingered his stubble. “I see. And have we managed to establish how the suspect got an intro to the flat in the first place?”
Custody
“Through young Meston, sir. One of the boys we’re interviewing, Ryan Brebner, the wee brother Kyle goes there. Willie Meston gets sent to pick the child up once in a while.”
“And the woman?”
“Kymberley Ewen. Single parent. Three of the children living at the locus are hers. Apparently she’s been childminding on the sly for a couple of years. Drugs got that from the neighbours. Not that she’ll be registered,” Brian sniffed. “History of abuse there too: alcohol, prescription drugs.”
“Do we have Ewen in custody?”
“No, sir. Kym was AWOL when the raid took place. They’ve put out a shout for her. She’ll be steamin’ somewhere. Apparently Gilruth was in the habit of slipping her a few quid for a bevvy.”
“Leaving him alone in the flat with the kids.” Chisolm frowned.
“By his account, he was just passing the time.” “In a high rise in Seaton with a bunch of under fives?” He snorted. “That’ll be right. Brian scratched his head. “Suspect told us he was ‘holding the fort’.” “Who for?”
“The childminder. Alleges he was just ‘giving Kym a wee break.’ Then, when she tootles off, he keeps the kids occupied. Plays party games.”
“And you’d swallow that?” Brian shrugged. “Probably not.”
“And all the while this happy-clappy’s going on upstairs, the Meston kid’s off trading round the tower blocks?”
“So it’s alleged. Doesn’t look good, does it, sir?” “It certainly does not. Plus, if it was all so Blue Peter in there,” Chisolm folded his arms across his chest, “how come they’re running toxicology tests on those kids?”
More tomorrow.