Lost Souls

50

Douglas Galbraith sat calmly in the interview room waiting for the police officers to start his second interview in the last two days. He wasn‘t in the least bit concerned as to what information they had or could try and fabricate. He was more than confident he would escape any charges they were thinking about sending his way.

    Today he was wearing one of his best navy blue Armani suits, and his hair had been cut and styled that morning. He wore an expensive Rolex watch, and 24ct Gold cufflinks in his pale cream silk Italian shirt. On his feet he wore real crocodile cowboy boots, and his attire was completed by a a bright red and silver silk tie. He looked like everyone’s ideal of a stereo-typical gangster from the movies.

    Beside him in complete contrast sat his solicitor. Barry Bull was aptly named. His neck looked like a tree trunk, and several folds of loose skin hung over his overly tight white shirt. His pea green suit struggled to keep his giant bulk from overflowing, and filling the small room with lard. His grey hair hung limply down to his shoulders, and there was enough grease on it to keep a fish and chip shop supplied for weeks.

    Despite his shoddy appearance, and the strong smell of stale body odour that emanated from deep within his pores, Galbraith loved the man. Not for his dress sense or sparkling wit, but because he was brilliant at his job, and had never let Galbraith down in all the years he’s used him.

    Barry Bull turned to him and smiled, showing a row of crooked teeth. Galbraith was sure he could find most of the man’s breakfast still stuck between the gaps. “Don’t say anything to them unless I nod first, okay?” Barry asked.

    “I know the drill by now Barry,” Galbraith smiled.

    “Yeah, suppose you do,” Barry responded, as Mullins and Frazier entered the interview room.

    “Morning gentlemen,” Galbraith said happily. “I do hope we’ll get this done quickly. I’m sure you’ll both appreciate my need to return home as soon as is possible?”

    Frazier pulled out the two chairs opposite Galbraith and Bull, and he and Mullins sat down. “Let’s cut all the crap Douglas. We know, and you know how these children died. If you admit to killing them, I’m sure after all these years the courts will be kind to you.”

    “After all, you’re not a young man anymore,” Mullins added sarcastically.

    Galbraith leant back in his chair, linked his hands behind his head, and smiled broadly.

    Barry Bull sifted through some papers quickly, and then made a note in red pen across one of the sheets of A4 documents. “Just adding psychic ability to your list of powers detective,” he said sarcastically. “You know squat, other than there is a pile of kids bones in a big hole in the rear garden of Dovecot Manor. You have no idea who put them there, and no idea when. Yes, you can identify a time frame for when they died, but the bodies could easily have been moved from elsewhere. My client hasn’t set foot in the house for decades apart from a flying visit to welcome his new tenants, the family Rusk I believe.”

    Mullins took a sip from a white plastic beaker he’d brought into the room with him. “We have identified the male body found in the barn. Turns out it’s your father Mr. Galbraith.”

    Barry Bull glanced at Galbraith to silence him, but Galbraith raised a hand dripping in gold rings to let him know he thought it was alright to reply.

    “I can’t see how that’s possible. My father emigrated to Australia as you’re well aware.”

    “We managed to take a DNA sample, and match it with yours.”

    Galbraith sniffed loudly. “That’s impossible. I’ve never given a sample of my DNA.”

    “Oh, but you have. I don’t suppose you recall the occasion seeing as you don’t really care for socialization with your fellow men, but you kindly provided us with a sample in 2003 at the request of local officers investigating a serial sex offender. You’d called in to give Christmas presents to some of the officers, and they told you they were trying to obtain as many DNA samples from local men as possible to rule them out of their investigations. I guess seeing as you were clearly in the festive spirit, you didn’t mind helping them out.”

    Barry Bull sucked air through his teeth. “Doesn’t mean my client had anything to do with his father’s body being in the barn though does it?”

    “No, not really,” Mullins replied, before adding, “However, it rises suspicions as to why for all these years Mr. Galbraith has persisted with his story that his father emigrated though.”

    “He did, and I drove him to the airport myself. Why would I lie about that?”

    “Maybe because you murdered him?” Frazier barked.

    “That’s ludicrous. I loved my father,” Galbraith yelled back.

    “Oh I doubt a man like you can love anyone Douglas,” Mullins said softly, making his words seem even more significant.

    “I think we’ve taken enough of this harassment for today. Unless you’re going to charge my client with his own father’s death or with anything to do with the children’s deaths. I suggest this interview is over,” Barry Bull informed them, as he closed his files, and started to place them carefully into an old battered black leather briefcase.

    “We have enough suspicious information to charge your client, Mr. Bull, but I’m sure you’re very well aware that there isn’t really enough for us to get a conviction without concrete proof of his involvement,” Mullins admitted ruefully.

    “That’s what I thought. Now Douglas, let’s go and have a bite to eat in town. I’m famished.”

    Galbraith loudly pushed his chair away, and stood up. He braced himself against the table and lent forward. “I’m sorry you’re not going to win this one, and let me save you some time in your investigation. Nobody will tell you anything, especially that silly mare MacDonald. She loves me you see?”

    “What’s not to love?” Frazier muttered sarcastically.

    “I suggest you bury the kids in the churchyard, and leave my father to me.”

    “You may be smart Galbraith, and think you’ve got everyone, and everything tied up locally, but let me assure you, I will keep digging until I find someone or something that puts you away for the rest of your miserable life,” Frazier threatened.

    Galbraith laughed loudly. “You’re nothing to me officer. I can handle anything you throw in my direction.”

    Frazier’s body tensed. He felt Mullins grab his thigh, and squeeze hard. He knew he was close to losing it, and doing something that would not only end the policeman’s career, but would jeopardize the investigation.  

    Frazier took a deep breath to calm himself. “Get out of my sight,” he ordered, Galbraith and Bull. Both men were smiling broadly as they exited the interview room.

    “We can’t charge him with anything yet. We need something substantial.”

    “I know. I know,” Mullins agreed. “So far all we’ve got is a pile of children’s bones in his back garden, and his father’s skeleton in the barn. There’s nothing to connect him to either site apart from the fact he owns the house.”

    “He’s as guilty as hell,” Frazier pointed out angrily.

    “He is, but we can’t prove it.”

    “Not yet we can’t,” Frazier muttered, as he gathered his paperwork and stormed out the room.