Devil in the Detail (Scott Cullen Mysteries) (16 page)

"What the fuck's that?" asked Irvine.

"I didn't know what that meant either, so I looked it up on the internet," she said. "It says it means that he was defrocked, chucked out of the church."

"What for?" asked Bain.

"It says in the report that he had substantial gambling debts," she said.

"And that's it?" asked Bain, his face like thunder.

"Thought you'd like to know," said Caldwell.

"Something doesn't tie up with this boy," said Bain. "I've got some contacts in the Garda that I'll tap up, see what I can find." He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood there, stock still for what felt to Cullen like minutes. "Right," he said, eventually. He took a deep breath. "There's two possibilities for Mandy's death that I can think of. First, the parents are involved, so I don't want to go directly to them just yet, not until we have some more evidence. Second, Jamie Cook's been at her."

"Do you want me to raise any other possibilities?" asked Cullen.

"No," said Bain, eyes aflame. "Forget about going to see Gibson, we'll do that later. Right now, I want you and Lamb to go and see Mulgrew and see if you can find out more about this exorcism business."

*

The God's Rainbow building looked to Cullen like it was once a shop. At some point the entire front had been painted bright yellow, except for a rainbow band the full width of the building. Up close, the rainbow looked cheap and badly painted. There was no advertising outside - Cullen had never seen a religious organisation that hadn't tried to spread the word through aggressive street marketing. The door had an elaborate security system which Lamb circumvented by hammering his fist against the door.

They waited almost thirty seconds, Lamb hammering twice more, before Mulgrew finally opened the door.

He beamed at them. "Officers, how can I help you?"

Lamb pushed him aside and entered the building.
 

They were in the main part of the church. It was obviously a chapel, with a wooden pulpit at the far end, though it was not grand in any sense - rather than oak, flagstones and gold, the room had instead been furnished with MDF, concrete and steel. The room was surprisingly bright, given that the windows on the front had been painted over. It was open to the rafters in the roof and the back half was a large window, drowning the room in sunlight. There was space for about forty people at a push, Cullen figured.

Lamb stopped in the middle of the room and turned around.
 

"It's not such a nice day out, is it?" asked Mulgrew, catching up.

"We need to ask you some questions," said Cullen, before Lamb could start.

"Please, come into my office," said Mulgrew, gesturing them through a door to the side of the pulpit.
 

They followed him into a small, dark room. The walls were a mixture of old wallpaper and bare plaster. In the middle sat a reasonably large white desk with enough space for two people to sit across from Mulgrew. The desk had copies of the Bible, the Torah and the Koran, all heavily read, with place marks protruding out. The wall behind Mulgrew was shelved, with the left half crammed with old books. The right half of the shelf was taken up with multiple copies of glossy pamphlets with titles such as 'Teenage Abortion' and 'Immigration'.
 

"Fire away, then," said Mulgrew, now sitting at his desk.

"We believe that you weren't entirely honest with us this morning," said Cullen.

"Oh?" Mulgrew's face was set in a serious frown.

"We have some information that suggests that you conducted an exorcism on Mandy Gibson yesterday at your religious ceremony."

Mulgrew rubbed his temples. He didn't say anything for at least thirty seconds.

"Father Mulgrew," said Cullen.

"Yes," he said, finally. "Her parents asked me not to mention this to anyone. It's a private matter."

"Doesn't sound like a private matter if it happened in a public place," said Cullen, "and the victim of the exorcism then turns up dead."

Mulgrew squinted his eyes at Cullen. "She was not a victim of an exorcism; she was the beneficiary. She was the victim of demonic possession."

"She was not possessed," snapped Cullen. "She was mentally handicapped. She was hit by a bus."

"We discussed this earlier," said Mulgrew.
 

"You said that you could perform an exorcism," said Cullen. "Somehow, it slipped your mind that you had performed one on Mandy."

Mulgrew smiled. He grumbled to his feet and retrieved a pamphlet. "Listen to me," he said in a patronising tone, "the Catholic Church shies away from it nowadays, but it is something that still absolutely needs to happen, especially in this day and age."

He tossed the pamphlet on the table between them. Cullen picked it up and looked at it; 'Demonic Possession & Exorcism: Cure All of Your Ills'. It looked very shoddy - typos and poor layout - though the paper stock was of a high quality.

"I believe that you have one-on-one counselling sessions with your Parishioners," said Cullen. "Does this include exorcism?"

Mulgrew closed his eyes. "Only in exceptional circumstances," he said, "like with Mandy and only with absolute agreement with any parents or guardians."

"So this counselling includes only the younger members?" asked Lamb.

"No, it's the full Parish," replied Mulgrew.

"How many exorcisms have you carried out in your time here?" asked Cullen.

"Not a single one until yesterday, unfortunately," said Mulgrew.

"What about on Jamie Cook?" asked Cullen, flicking through his notebook. "This morning you told me that he had the devil himself inside him. Isn't that enough for an exorcism?"

Mulgrew looked away. "I have a strong faith," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. Cullen and Lamb both leaned in close. "I know that I have the good Lord on my side but I am just one man. I need my word to spread if I am to be able to take on Lucifer himself."

Lamb had been rolling his fingers on the table in a repeating pattern, seemingly growing increasingly frustrated with Mulgrew. "Mandy's postmortem has been completed," he said. "There were signs of sexual abuse."

Mulgrew almost spat. "Abuse?"

"As I said," said Lamb, slowly and calmly.

"What are you saying?" asked Mulgrew.

"I'm wondering if you knew anything about it," said Cullen.

Mulgrew leaned across the table, his left hand pointing at Lamb. "Just because I'm a religious man, you can't come in accusing me of being a child molester," roared Mulgrew. Spittle dribbled down the side of his mouth. He looked at Cullen. "Both times I've met you, Mr Cullen, you have attacked my faith. I know your sort. You try to undermine that which we children of God hold dear, like that bus in London, or that infernal Dawkins man. Come judgment day, you will all burn in Hell."

Cullen smiled. He felt that something wasn't quite right. "Father, I was asking if you knew anything about it, not whether you'd done it."

"I'm afraid there's not much I can add," said Mulgrew.

"Nothing at all?"

Mulgrew rubbed his forehead then let out a deep sigh. "Have you spoken to Jamie Cook yet?"

Lamb was looking at the table. "Not yet," he said. Cullen thought that he looked reluctant to admit that they couldn't find him.

"Right you are." Mulgrew scratched the back of his head for at least ten seconds. "I really should not be doing this but I suppose I have to." He took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling and whispered something to himself or his God. "Earlier, you alluded to my counselling sessions. These sessions were supposed to be confidential, as you can imagine. However, in cases where I have information that might... help, or assist, with something... And I suppose a murder investigation would fit. Then I suppose... I have to... part with the information and deal with the sin in my personal correspondence with the Lord."

"Spit it out, Seamus," snapped Lamb.

"In the sessions with Jamie Cook," he said, "he would talk about the troubles which constantly plagued him. From the age of about... 14, maybe 15, he had fantasies of molesting children."

"And Jamie Cook told you this?" asked Cullen.

Mulgrew hung his head heavily in his hands, his elbows dropping on the desk. "Yes," he said, with a whimper.

"And did he mention Mandy Gibson?"

Mulgrew took a deep breath. "Just the once."

Lamb had a look of abject disgust on his face. "What did he say, Seamus?" he asked.

"It was a fantasy about taking her to a shack somewhere," said Mulgrew, "away from everyone and doing what he wanted to her."

"Have you any idea where this shack is?" asked Cullen.

"No," said Mulgrew, his voice a croak.

"Did you suggest any action that he might take?" asked Lamb.

Mulgrew took a deep breath. "I suggested that he refrain from masturbation," he said, "and to have no contact with any children."

"Did he heed the advice, do you know?"

"As to the first, who knows," said Mulgrew. "I would very much doubt it. The second, well, he flagrantly violated that. He has a brother and sister - the poor things are eleven. The Lord alone knows what he did to them."

"Have you had any counselling with them?" asked Cullen.

"I do," said Mulgrew, "on a monthly basis for the moment. Neither of them has mentioned anything, though, and they seem perfectly balanced. That's not to say that it hasn't happened to them..."

"When was the last time Jamie talked to you about any of this?" asked Lamb.

"Well, our sessions became more and more tense right up to when he decided to leave my church."

"Did you ever tell his parents?" asked Cullen.

Mulgrew scowled. "There was no way I could have told them," he said. "Not directly, anyway."

"And you definitely did not try and exorcise him?"

Mulgrew grimaced. "I would have needed parental approval," he said, quickly. "They knew the boy was troubled, just not how much. The boy has the devil in him, as I said. Dealing with Satan himself is way out of my remit. You would need a Bishop to even contemplate such an undertaking, if not the Pope himself, and even then... My little church does not have the resources or the number of believers. One day, hopefully."

Cullen couldn't help shake the image of Mulgrew's church as some sort of 'Britain's Got Talent' show, aiming for a golden number of followers that would allow him to vote off the devil.

"Did you not feel you should have gone to them with this?" asked Lamb. "Especially in light of what has just happened?"

"Perhaps," said Mulgrew. "Hindsight is a blessed thing, though. One can only atone for one's sins in hindsight. And besides, I have been trying to tell you to focus on Jamie Cook."

"Do you have any way of corroborating any of this?" asked Cullen.

"Not directly, no," said Mulgrew. "Sergeant Lamb here will tell you how often he has to pick the boy up for some petty crime or other."

Cullen rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure how much of a correlation there is between paedophilia and youthful criminality."

"Listen, I suggest that you speak to Jamie Cook about this," said Mulgrew.

*

The Church of Scotland building next door to God's Rainbow towered over its neighbour. Cullen thought it looked older than the rest of the town, as if it had grown up around the church. It fascinated him how so many of the congregation had headed to the smaller affair next door.

Cullen stood in the middle of the cavernous room, listening to Lamb asking questions of the minister, their voices echoing around the space. Andrew Pask was a round man in his mid-50s, a dark beard offsetting the baldness on top, with dark curly hair at the sides only slightly streaked with grey. Cullen himself had more than his share of grey hair already, and he wasn't even thirty.
 

As he spoke about his neighbour, Pask seemed to Cullen to be increasingly angry. He had started being placatory, trying for a shrug of the shoulders and a reluctant acknowledgement of the best man winning, but also that he expected to welcome them back into the fold. As Lamb had probed further and deeper, he'd unseated a welt of rage. "The man is a fraud," said Pask. "He is telling a pack of lies, selling religion like a Pastor in some Southern US state. I'm astonished he's not bought TV adverts yet."

"Why do you say he's a fraud?" asked Lamb.

"Look, just before he started, I would have in the region of one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty people on a Sunday," said Pask. "That may seem like a lot, but it barely filled this place. I still get seventy on a good week, but you need to look at the people who have left. He hasn't taken those most in need of salvation and redemption, you know. He's taken the bank managers, the accountants, the doctors, the lawyers. We don't charge a tithe in the Church of Scotland but I know that he does." He started stabbing his finger in the air. "Seamus Mulgrew does not have a Vatican City to pay for, does not have a network of churches to pay for. He is taking that money for his own means. Renting that building next door will not be cheap, I tell you."

"So what is he doing with it?" asked Cullen. "I've seen where he lives, I've seen the car he drives."

"I should not have to tell you that fraudsters do not always wantonly display their gains."

"So what do you think he is doing with this money?" asked Cullen.

"I hear rumours of expansion," said Pask. "I fear that my colleagues in the surrounding area may soon face the same battle that I am just now."

*

"You think he's on the level?" asked Cullen.

They were walking back to the police station, at the crossroads between the High Street and Queen Street, as it began its climb up the Garleton Hills towards the ridge at the top and the row of ancient cottages that sat atop the hill range, now worth well over half a million each.

"Mulgrew?" asked Lamb.
 

Cullen nodded in response.
 

"Could be, I suppose," said Lamb. "The story sort of tallies. According to everyone you speak to, Jamie has been a bloody nightmare since he was about 15 years old which tallies with these supposed fantasies."