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thought through the facts they'd just learnt - Caldwell had found two likely disappearances. With Iain Crombie, the owner's son disappearing was as much a mystery as nobody mentioning it in connection with the investigation so far. Everyone had pointed at Paddy Kavanagh, but not at Iain.
    "What do you want us to do?" asked Cullen.
    "Angie, sorry, Angela ," said Bain, "can you get the original case files for both cases?"
    "Already requested," she said. "All six are getting delivered to Leith Walk over night."
    " Over night ?" said Bain.
    "You know how it is," she said.
    "I usually find out how it is and then work out how to fuckin' do it properly," said Bain. "Can you not get out there?"
    "Tried that," she said. "I've not got the security clearance to get through the front door. Needs an Inspector or above."
    Bain's moustache danced on his top lip. "Well, tomorrow will have to do," he said.
    "Fine," said Caldwell, grinning.
    Bain wheeled round to point his glaring eyes at Cullen. "Right, Sundance, what are we going to do with you?" he asked, folding his arms.
    "I want to speak to Alec Crombie about the original paper ledgers," said Cullen, "and this news that his son is dead."
    "I've already grilled him," said Bain. "I don't want a complaint from him."
    "Did you ask him about his son's disappearance?" asked Cullen.
    "No, I didn't," snapped Bain. "Fine, grab Murray if you need any support."
    "Isn't he looking into Paddy's disappearance?" asked Cullen.
    "Aye, but he's just waiting on some boy in Ireland to call him back," said Bain. "If you could make him useful for once, rather than standin' around scratchin' his nuts, I'd appreciate it. Got to keep an eye on these regional boys, Cullen. You saw that shite in January that we had to put up with - abject ineptitude writ fuckin' large." He pointed a finger at Cullen. "Murray and his master can get up to some tricks so keep at least one of those beady eyes of yours on him. He was downstairs chatting up the Receptionist last I saw of him."
    "Will do," said Cullen. "What about you?"
    "Going to get us an Incident Room at Garleton nick," said Bain. "Need to get a bit of a structure around this case." His phone rang. "First thing's first, though, we need to get a fuckin' postmortem done on this body." He answered the phone. "Jimmy Deeley, you'd better fuckin' be outside."

eight

    Alec Crombie lived in Gullane, a small town roughly four miles north west of the distillery, on the coast. The Crombie house was at the top of the hill at the Edinburgh side of the town - the Gillen end. It was part of an old Victorian mansion, with high stone walls and well-kept gardens - Cullen imagined that Crombie's grandfather had done more than well from the early whisky business.
    After Bain had finished with him earlier, Crombie had headed home so Cullen had given him a call. Crombie had promised to retrieve the ledgers ahead of Cullen's visit - a local historian had been through them in the last few months to produce a history of the distillery as part of the centenary of the distillery. He told Cullen that the reason he had left earlier was that he was upset about losing his precious centenary edition, but Cullen couldn't help but wonder whether the real reason was the shock of a body being found in his distillery - potentially his son. Cullen thought that Crombie saw himself as the robust type, but there seemed to be some sort of personal trauma lurking behind the facade.
    Murray had driven, leaving Cullen's car parked at the distillery - he would need to head back there later on which would be a pain in the arse.
    Cullen looked north down the street as they went over the top of the hill - there was a thin sliver of car park at the end which led down to Gullane Bents, an expansive sandy beach that was part of a continuous strip of sand from Aberlady right round to North Berwick. Cullen had taken Sharon out for a walk there a few weeks previously, on a rare day when they were both off, defending