in 2011.’
‘The same year?’
‘His father didn’t last long after his mother passed.’
Jain cleared her throat, eyes narrowed. ‘Ms Van de Merwe, we found your ex-husband wearing only his underpants.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ She sipped more wine and tugged her hair. ‘Bloody bitch.’
Jain scowled. ‘Excuse me?’
Elsbeth’s eyes clamped shut. ‘Not you.’
‘Who?’
‘Amber.’ Elsbeth topped up her glass. ‘Jon was having an affair. It’s why we divorced.’
‘That must’ve been hard to take.’
‘You don’t know the half of it. It broke my heart. She’s eighteen . Traded me in for a younger model. Such a cliché.’
‘Was he still seeing her?’
‘To my knowledge, yes.’
‘Why did you say “bloody bitch”? Think she could’ve killed him?’
‘I wouldn’t put anything past her.’
‘Do you know her surname?’
* * *
‘Jesus.’
‘What’s up?’ Jain pushed past Cullen. ‘Sudden urge for a drink?’
‘Hardly. This place has changed a hell of a lot.’ He waved around the Southern’s bar area, stripped back from a rugger-bugger hellhole to a modern style bar. White walls filled with framed photos — black and white film stills, fifties noir book covers. Burgers served on wooden chopping boards. Craft beer on tap. Just like the Elm. ‘Big change since my student days.’
‘I’ll leave you to reminisce, while I do some work.’ Jain sashayed over, winking at a pair of muscle men near the bar. She nodded at a barman, thin face lost beneath a wiry beard. ‘Looking for an Amber Turner.’
‘Who’s asking?’
A flash of her warrant card. ‘DC Chantal Jain.’
‘Sit over in the snug, hen. I’ll just fetch her.’
Cullen followed Jain over to the small area at the far side, shaking his head as she bumped into one of the muscle boys. He settled into a booth and waited for her to finish apologising with a business card. ‘Nice work.’
‘Always on the lookout for a pretty boy like that.’
‘You’ll eat him alive.’
‘That’s part of the fun.’
‘What’s wrong with Buxton?’
Jain burst into laughter. ‘Aye, right.’
‘Not your type?’
‘Looks the part but I try not to shit where I eat.’
‘Charming.’
A girl leaned into the small room. Blonde hair, girl’s face, woman’s body — cut-off denim shorts and a Ramones T-shirt, ripped to show cleavage, tied off to show a flat stomach. ‘Chantelle?’
‘Chantal.’ Jain smiled. ‘Amber?’
‘Aye.’
Cullen made space for her. ‘Here you go.’
‘Cheers.’ She sat, her bare thigh brushing against his leg. ‘What do youse want to know?’ Niddrie accent, with a snarl to go with it.
‘Do you know a Jonathan van de Merwe?’
Her mouth hung open. Braces covered her teeth. ‘Right, I’ll see youse later.’ She got up.
Cullen grabbed her arm. ‘Here or at the station. We’re not far from St Leonard’s.’
‘Youse arresting me?’
‘Have you done something?’
‘No.’
‘Then why leave us when we mention his name?’
‘Because I’m not speaking about that arsehole. Haven’t heard from him in months, anyway. What’s this about?’
‘He’s dead.’
Amber blinked hard and collapsed back onto the bench. ‘What?’
‘We found his body this morning.’
‘Shite.’
‘Where were you last night?’
‘I was working. Here.’
‘So your mate at the bar’ll confirm it?’
‘He wasn’t in. Shug was. He’s not in tonight.’
‘Tell us about your relationship with Mr Van de Merwe.’
‘Met him about a year ago. Thought he was my white knight, you know?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I met him on sugardaddies dot com. It’s a site where young girls like me can hook up with older guys like him.’ She ran her hands down her torso. ‘You know how long I spend in the gym every day to look this good?’
‘I can imagine. What happened?’
‘Met up with him a few times. He took me for dinner each time.’
‘Did you sleep with
‘The same year?’
‘His father didn’t last long after his mother passed.’
Jain cleared her throat, eyes narrowed. ‘Ms Van de Merwe, we found your ex-husband wearing only his underpants.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ She sipped more wine and tugged her hair. ‘Bloody bitch.’
Jain scowled. ‘Excuse me?’
Elsbeth’s eyes clamped shut. ‘Not you.’
‘Who?’
‘Amber.’ Elsbeth topped up her glass. ‘Jon was having an affair. It’s why we divorced.’
‘That must’ve been hard to take.’
‘You don’t know the half of it. It broke my heart. She’s eighteen . Traded me in for a younger model. Such a cliché.’
‘Was he still seeing her?’
‘To my knowledge, yes.’
‘Why did you say “bloody bitch”? Think she could’ve killed him?’
‘I wouldn’t put anything past her.’
‘Do you know her surname?’
* * *
‘Jesus.’
‘What’s up?’ Jain pushed past Cullen. ‘Sudden urge for a drink?’
‘Hardly. This place has changed a hell of a lot.’ He waved around the Southern’s bar area, stripped back from a rugger-bugger hellhole to a modern style bar. White walls filled with framed photos — black and white film stills, fifties noir book covers. Burgers served on wooden chopping boards. Craft beer on tap. Just like the Elm. ‘Big change since my student days.’
‘I’ll leave you to reminisce, while I do some work.’ Jain sashayed over, winking at a pair of muscle men near the bar. She nodded at a barman, thin face lost beneath a wiry beard. ‘Looking for an Amber Turner.’
‘Who’s asking?’
A flash of her warrant card. ‘DC Chantal Jain.’
‘Sit over in the snug, hen. I’ll just fetch her.’
Cullen followed Jain over to the small area at the far side, shaking his head as she bumped into one of the muscle boys. He settled into a booth and waited for her to finish apologising with a business card. ‘Nice work.’
‘Always on the lookout for a pretty boy like that.’
‘You’ll eat him alive.’
‘That’s part of the fun.’
‘What’s wrong with Buxton?’
Jain burst into laughter. ‘Aye, right.’
‘Not your type?’
‘Looks the part but I try not to shit where I eat.’
‘Charming.’
A girl leaned into the small room. Blonde hair, girl’s face, woman’s body — cut-off denim shorts and a Ramones T-shirt, ripped to show cleavage, tied off to show a flat stomach. ‘Chantelle?’
‘Chantal.’ Jain smiled. ‘Amber?’
‘Aye.’
Cullen made space for her. ‘Here you go.’
‘Cheers.’ She sat, her bare thigh brushing against his leg. ‘What do youse want to know?’ Niddrie accent, with a snarl to go with it.
‘Do you know a Jonathan van de Merwe?’
Her mouth hung open. Braces covered her teeth. ‘Right, I’ll see youse later.’ She got up.
Cullen grabbed her arm. ‘Here or at the station. We’re not far from St Leonard’s.’
‘Youse arresting me?’
‘Have you done something?’
‘No.’
‘Then why leave us when we mention his name?’
‘Because I’m not speaking about that arsehole. Haven’t heard from him in months, anyway. What’s this about?’
‘He’s dead.’
Amber blinked hard and collapsed back onto the bench. ‘What?’
‘We found his body this morning.’
‘Shite.’
‘Where were you last night?’
‘I was working. Here.’
‘So your mate at the bar’ll confirm it?’
‘He wasn’t in. Shug was. He’s not in tonight.’
‘Tell us about your relationship with Mr Van de Merwe.’
‘Met him about a year ago. Thought he was my white knight, you know?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I met him on sugardaddies dot com. It’s a site where young girls like me can hook up with older guys like him.’ She ran her hands down her torso. ‘You know how long I spend in the gym every day to look this good?’
‘I can imagine. What happened?’
‘Met up with him a few times. He took me for dinner each time.’
‘Did you sleep with
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