Cross Purpose: Epsiode 82

He’d seen it too often, how something that started off quite innocent suddenly took a darker turn

Brian explained: “The Ewen woman was in the habit of doping them up: huge quantities of Calpol, if the empties are anything to go by. God knows what else. But the suspect maintains his presence there was perfectly innocent. “Says he’d ballsed up his final year exams at Gordon’s. His old man was hell-bent on him getting into uni. Had organised some sort of tutor. All got a bit heavy. Christopher moved out of the family home into a flat. He maintains he went down there – to Kym’s place – to get away from it all.”

“Let me get this straight, DS Burnett. You’re telling me he went from a pile in Rubislaw Den, via some flat, to a high rise in Seaton ‘to get away from it all’?”

“That’s what he’s saying, sir. According to Christopher, he has a pretty fractured relationship with his old man, and the mother’s out and about doing her thing.

“Hardly ever on the scene, so, the way I see it, the lad’s sitting in this pad of his the whole day, looking at God knows what on the internet.”

“Doesn’t he have any friends?”

“Only one from what I can gather: Torquil somebody or other. Except he’s already gone up to uni and it’s Torquil who’s the supposed tutor so…”

“Our Christopher has had a bellyful of his mate Torquil.”

Relationship

“Exactly. And when Willie Meston comes looking, and wangles him into Kym’s flat in Seaton, Christopher begins to build up a relationship.”

Chisolm knitted his eyebrows. “I’m not following you, Burnett.”

“I think the lad was lonely, sir.”

“Lonely?”

“Well, maybe not so much lonely,” Brian hesitated, “so much as isolated. Christopher seems to spend hours on his computer.”

“That’s hardly unusual.”

“No, sir. But judging from what he’s told us, he lives in a virtual world, as it were. Divorced from his family. And we’ve already established he has no friends.” “So?”

“I think Christopher Gilruth saw these kids as a surrogate family.”

“But,” the inspector steepled his fingers, “I understand Gilruth took that boy…” He broke off. “The one you and the Laird woman brought in.” “Kyle, sir?”

“That’s the one. I understand Gilruth took that boy into the bedroom on a number of occasions. That would suggest there was some level of sexual activity going on.”

“Christopher insists it was only horsing around.” “I think he’s having you on.”

“According to him, sir, it wasn’t like that. He insists there was no sexual assault.”

Chisolm splayed his fingers on the desktop. He’d seen it too often, how something that started off quite innocent suddenly took a darker turn. He’d speculated time and again over what prompted it, that tipping point.

“Speaking of assault…” The inspector spoke from beneath angry brows. “What’s this I hear about some implement?”

“It would seem, sir, that when Christopher Gilruth was apprehended he was in possession of some sort of screwdriver. Only…” Brian rolled his eyes. “There was this cross on the end.”

X marks the spot. Once again, the words ratcheted through his head. “Continue.” “Well, sir, it looked suspiciously like a branding iron.”

“A what?”

Blurred

“Sir, I know it sounds sick. But they watch such a lot of sicko stuff, these young guys. Live in such an unreal world. The lines must get blurred sometimes. I think this branding iron, if you could call it that, was just another example of the guy acting out his fantasies.”

“And where does this implement come into the equation?”

“We haven’t discovered that yet, sir.”

“Do you think the Child Abuse Unit needs to be involved?”

“I don’t think so. From what I’ve observed today, Christopher Gilruth is emotionally immature, but would like to come across as a hard man.

“I think he looked at Willie Meston, saw how his gang look up to him. Thought he could emulate that. Make these little kids into a kind of club.” “Club?” Chisolm’s eyes stood out on his cheeks. “Sir, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I honestly think Gilruth cares about those children: the wee boy, Kyle, in particular.”

“And this branding iron. Has Gilruth given an indication of where he intended to apply it?”

Sweat stood out on Brian’s brow. “God only knows.”

Unseen presence

The bell rang, one staccato buzz. Maggie opened the door. Allan Chisolm stood on the doorstep. He was wearing a pin-striped suit, white shirt, red tie.

“Inspector Chisolm.” She determined not to look cowed. She could still remember how angry she’d been that last time he came calling. “Come in.”

The inspector followed her through to the sitting room. Maggie took up position facing him. At her back, the big chair spoke George’s unseen presence.

“Have a seat.” She made an effort to sound cordial. Behind her unruffled exterior her heart was beating fit to kill.

The DI perched stiffly on the edge of the settee. She waited for what was coming. The silence between them seemed to last for hours, though it could only have been a few minutes at most. Finally, it was Maggie who spoke.

“I know why you’ve come,” she began cautiously. Take your time. She’d need to be chary if she were to bring her plan to fruition. Even with Brannigan cornered and a confession on tape, Chisolm might be reluctant to help her get the case reopened.

He might not have forgotten that last time she’d kept him standing in the hall with the rain dripping out of him.

Apology

He cut her short. “Before you say anything, Mrs Laird…” He gazed intently into Maggie’s good eye. “I’d like to apologise.”

Wow! There’s a turn-up for the books.

“We may not have seen eye to eye…” Colour suffused the DI’s face as his faux pas dawned. “That so?” She responded drily.

“Don’t get me wrong…”

Maggie could sense a “but” coming. Typical. Not like a man to offer an unqualified apology.

“I was riled, I admit, the last time I came here. The investigation into Lucy Simmons’ death was running on. Six weeks and we still didn’t have a cause of death,” the inspector broke off. “My team was taking flak from all directions: the press, the parents, not to mention the fifth floor.”

Oh, yes. Let’s not forget the fifth floor. There was no way Maggie was going to go down that road.

“It was all we needed,” Chisolm continued, “you getting up Gilruth’s nose, stirring it up with the drugs boys. Not to mention other…” He cleared his throat, “…matters that have been brought to my notice. Nonetheless,” the inspector fingered his lapel, “I feel that perhaps I didn’t handle it as I might have – our last meeting.”

Maggie felt her face flush. She hadn’t exactly handled it well either. Still…

More tomorrow.