Vicky felt her eyebrows lift. Sometimes the odd ones surprised you.
‘Oh, and Sarge, I’ve just been around to that restaurant?’
‘The hotel one?’
‘Aye, it’s called the Chez Mal Brasserie.’ Considine said it with a fairly authentic French accent, all rolling Rs. ‘In there eight till nine.’
‘On the dot?’
‘Pretty much, aye.’
‘Okay, thank you.’ Vicky killed the call and tried the front desk downstairs. ‘Marko, do you know where the duty doctor has—’
‘Aye, aye, aye. He’s busy. Six-man brawl on Reform Street. The two arseholes not in hospital look like a Tarantino film, so he’s a bit busy.’
‘It’s just a quick one. Can you ask him if Dougie—’
‘Aye, he’s okayed him for interview.’
‘Not that. Ask him to call me.’
‘Sure, sure. Here! You can’t do that in here! Oh for—’ And he was gone.
Vicky put her phone away, sighed, then entered the interview room. ‘Thanks for attending so swiftly, Mr Watson.’ She took her seat and got a nod from Karen – everything was up and running. ‘I appreciate it’s Christmas Eve, so I’m hoping you will just give us a full confession and we can all go back home to our families.’ She paused. ‘I mean, except you, Mr McLean.’
He ran a hand down his face. ‘I’m innocent.’
‘Sure about that?’
‘You’re restraining my client on some trumped-up charges, which are frankly ridiculous.’
‘Mr McLean, do you know a Catriona Gordon?’
He frowned. ‘You mean Catriona?’
‘So you do know her?’
‘Well, aye. I mean, I met her on an app.’
‘Which one?’
‘Can’t mind.’
‘That because you’re doing the same trick on so many services?’
‘What trick’s that, sugar?’
The brass neck on him… ‘We’re talking about Poggr.’
‘Right, aye.’
‘You meet a lot of girls on there?’
‘It’s not as good as others, but aye. Sure. I’m popular.’
‘Did you meet her in person?’
‘Met her for a drink. I mean, I was driving, so I just had a Coke.’
‘And then?’
‘Went for a nice meal. Chicken and chorizo thing at that place down on Dock Street. She had some pasta thing, I think.’
‘And then?’
‘I dropped her at home. She wasn’t giving me any signs, likes.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You know, asking me in for a coffee. Leaning over for a kiss. None of that.’
‘So, you just dropped her off?’
‘Sure did.’
‘Quite the gentleman.’
‘Hey, being gentle is one of my best traits.’
‘Sure it is.’
‘What time was this?’
‘I’d need to check, wouldn’t I?’
‘When did you meet for that drink.’
‘Half six.’
‘Early.’
‘Both busy people.’
‘And then dinner?’
‘Erm, about an hour and a half later.’
‘So eight?’
‘Sounds right.’
‘When did you leave to take her home?’
‘Weren’t in there long. She seemed to be up for it, so suggested going.’
‘Okay, so nine?’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. We’ve got evidence of it.’
‘So why are you asking me?’
‘It’s all part of the process.’
‘Sure it is.’
‘The next movement we’ve got for you is collecting a fare opposite Miss Gordon’s flat.’
‘That so?’
‘Half past eleven.’
‘So? I was working.’
‘Just so happened to come back there?’
‘Nature of the beast, isn’t it? End up back where you started sometimes.’
‘You turn the meter and radio off then?’
He brushed a hand on his neck. ‘Must’ve done, aye.’
‘Then you turned the radio back on and just so happened to be there.’
‘If you say so.’
‘See, that’s one way of looking at events. Another is that you left Miss Gordon’s home, waited, maybe even drove around the block, then walked back, rang her doorbell, punched her, raped her, tied her up and left her. Then you returned to your car and took the fare.’
McLean pinched his nose. ‘That right, aye?’
‘But not only that, while Miss Gordon was tied up in her bedroom, you made yourself beans on toast. But you didn’t finish it. Why?’
‘Not saying anything.’
‘Your chicken and chorizo dish not too filling after all?’
‘No comment.’
‘So, that’s it? That’s all you’re giving us?’
McLean sat back, folding his skinny arms over his chest. ‘Would need to check with the boss what I did next.’
‘You left the cable behind.’
McLean’s eyes bulged. ‘Cable?’
‘The laptop power cable you choked her with. A Dell, I believe. It’s being run for prints. And the washing twine you bound her with, but that’ll be harder to trace.’
He was blushing now. Looking at his lawyer, eyes darting everywhere. ‘It was something she asked me to do.’
‘What was?’
‘Break into her house, tie her up and rape her.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
‘Tell you, it was. Some lassies are really into kinky shit and straight off the bat. We were talking about it in the restaurant, about how she had fantasies about a filthy cabbie. So I enacted them.’
Vicky just knew this would happen. The lying, the victim blaming. ‘Mr McLean, the good news is that, now you’ve been arrested, your prints are on the system, along with your DNA. We can match you with the assault on her. You’ll be off the streets for years.’
‘This is complete bollocks.’
‘Is it? Because from what I can see, we’ve got you. Just admit it. Please. Let us get home.’
‘I haven’t done a thing to any lassies. Just gone about my business like an honest man.’
‘Like one. But not one.’
‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘Okay, let’s talk about the young girl tied up in the trunk of your car.’
‘What?’
‘Come on, you saw her. Did she have a fantasy about a filthy cabbie too, aye?’
‘You planted her.’
‘We planted a teenager in your boot? Right. Did we clonk her on the head too?’
McLean let out a sigh. He had nothing.
‘Okay, so how about you tell us about Carly Johnston?’
‘No idea who you’re talking about.’
‘Really? Because you’ve been chatting to her on Poggr.’
‘Oh, Carly? Wait.’
‘You know her?’
‘Aye. Dated for a bit.’
‘Were you intimate?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Why did you kill her?’
McLean frowned. ‘She’s dead?’
‘Very good. You know she is.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Come on, son. Your car was seen leaving the scene in a hurry. Did she not have fantasies about a dirty cabbie, is that why you killed her?’
‘This is bullshit.’
Vicky stared at Watson. ‘These theatrics aren’t helping his case any.’
Watson leaned over to whisper in McLean’s ear for a good few seconds, then McLean nodded. He sat forward, scratching at his neck. ‘Look, the truth of it is
