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Authors: Ed James

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BOOK: Bottleneck
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"That you?"

"Honey, I'm home," said Cullen. "Any danger you could get your feral cat out of my way?"

"He's not feral, he's just misunderstood," said DS Sharon McNeill.

Cullen hung up his woolly coat and suit jacket and headed through, carrying his mobile. The cat led the way, as if to keep himself between Cullen and Sharon.

The living room was the largest in the oddly-defined dwelling, effectively comprising the seating area, dining space and kitchen. The lighting was low and ambient, a world away from the all-lights-blazing approach Cullen preferred.

Sharon sat at the dining table intently focused on her laptop, U2 playing on the stereo. Cullen wandered over to his amp and turned the volume down to barely audible.

Sharon looked up. "How's my favourite Acting DS?"

Cullen shrugged as he took off his tie and hung it over the door. "It's just temporary. I'm looking forward to having a weekend off together, even if it's at my parents'."

"You're really lucky having parents like them," said Sharon.

"I suppose so," said Cullen, "but I'll have two days of interrogation from Mum about whether I've got in touch with my sister yet." He sat down beside her, putting his phone on the table. "What are you looking at?"

"Just houses."

"Right."

They'd been over this many times - Sharon wanted a house, Cullen wanted a two-bed flat somewhere in Edinburgh. Even that would be a push financially. Besides, he quite liked staying at Sharon's place in World's End Close. Being just off the Royal Mile was convenient for work and an easy stagger home from pubs, plus there were loads of decent shops nearby.

"There's a couple of nice ones," said Sharon. "A new build in Ravencraig and an old cottage in Garleton."

"I'm
not
moving to Ravencraig," said Cullen.

Sharon pointed at the laptop screen. "Four bedrooms for one eighty."

"There's a reason for that," said Cullen. "It's in Ravencraig. Besides, we don't need four bedrooms unless you're planning on starting a family."

"Very funny," said Sharon. She shut the laptop, reached over and kissed him. "Sorry, I should have shut that when you got back."

"Don't worry about it," said Cullen, kissing her on the neck. "I'll be arsing about on my phone before long, so we'll call it a draw then, right?"

Sharon play-punched him on the shoulder.

Cullen glanced at the table to see a copy of
The List
, half of Expect Delays looking moody on the cover. He picked it up and pointed to the singer. "Is his hair combed forward?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Seriously, is it?" said Cullen. He looked at the magazine - the singer, Mike Roberts, definitely appeared to have grown the hair out at the back and tugged it into a fringe to cover his baldness.

"You're the only one I find sexy," said Sharon, fingers caressing the back of Cullen's neck.

Cullen nodded down at the cat. "What about him?"

Fluffy was sitting to attention, staring up at them.

Sharon reached down to stroke him. "He's just a pussycat."

"Very good," said Cullen. "I'll tell you that next time he scratches me."

"It'll only be because you deserved it."

"They're playing next Wednesday, right?" said Cullen, tapping the magazine.

"Yeah. I'm excited about it."

"I've got bad memories of Hampden from the football. And from that distance, I won't even be able to work out if it's a comb-forward or not."

"I appreciate you coming with me," said Sharon, "and just be thankful you've got a full head of hair." She grinned. "For now."

Cullen's phone started dancing wildly on the table. "Here we go," he said, answering it.

"ADS Cullen, it's DI Methven. I need you to come to Niddry Street. Immediately."

"Can't it wait?" said Cullen. He was knackered and going back out was the last thing he wanted. There was ice cream in the freezer and football on the telly.

"Absolutely not," said Methven. "I need my team out on this, pronto."

"Be there in about five minutes, sir," said Cullen, before hanging up. He tossed his phone on the table.

"Duty calls?" said Sharon.

"Yeah," said Cullen, getting to his feet. "Typical Crystal. He called me ADS Cullen, but referred to himself as DI Methven. No mention of the fact he's Acting as well."

"He's a pompous arse," said Sharon.

"Yeah, but he's my pompous arse," said Cullen. His stomach rumbled. "Got any food before I go out?"

"With my
cooking?" said Sharon.

"Good point," said Cullen.

He decided on a samosa from the shop on the corner.

CHAPTER 3

Cullen walked up the High Street, a term he still struggled with - it would always be Royal Mile to him. The wind battered him and he pulled his coat tight. It might be late March, but this year had been unforgiving so far. At least the unseasonal snow had just about gone. Edinburgh was usually moderately temperate, but this spring made it truly feel like it was on the same latitude as Moscow.

He headed down Niddry Street and spotted a couple of squad cars alongside a police van halfway down the hill. A police cordon was set up around a nondescript entrance, guarded by Acting DC Simon Buxton. "Morning, Sarge," he said, his London accent out of place.

"Very funny," said Cullen. He nodded at Buxton's hair, freshly cut into the fashionable style David Beckham had been recently sporting - shaved at the back and sides with longer hair gelled and flicked out. Other footballers were copying and now it was percolating down to the plebs. "Just had that done?"

"Aye," said Buxton. "Needed a change, didn't I?"

Cullen nodded in agreement - his previous cut was the Britpop long fringe and side-lappers combination popular for about three weeks in the mid-nineties. "Definitely needed cut. Not sure about that style, though."

"For someone who's obsessed with other people's hair," said Buxton, "yours is pretty shit, mate."

"Aye, very good," said Cullen. "Anyway, you're keen tonight."

"Was just getting my coat after my haircut when Crystal Methven grabbed me," said Buxton. "Been in since six this morning, as well." He checked his watch. "Fourteen and a half hours. The OT would be good, but he'll no doubt mug me off on it, like always." He sniffed. "Besides, Chantal Jain is supposed to be taking over. Just on her way down now. Crystal didn't want an
Acting
DC manning this post for too long."

Cullen grimaced. "Where is he?"

Buxton handed him the clipboard. "He's downstairs, but you need to sign in."

"Fine," said Cullen, filling out the form. "What is this place?"

"Band rehearsal room," said Buxton. "Usually people pay by the hour, but you can rent these ones by the month. Huge waiting list, mate."

Cullen had never been one for guitar music, but knew Buxton had been in bands before joining the police. "Catch you later."

"That's for sure," said Buxton. "Crystal mentioned you're getting this case."

Cullen wasn't overly disappointed at the prospect of something interesting for a change. "Could do with something to get my teeth stuck into."

As he descended the steps, careful not to catch his coat on the whitewashed walls, Cullen was beginning to feel overworked. Aside from the domestic in Pilton, he had sixteen cases at various stages of completion. They weren't the sort that got the synapses firing, either, just required catching subhuman idiots through one of their many stupid mistakes.

At the foot of the stone steps, three flights down, Cullen put on a scene of crime overall and signed into the inner locus. There was an overpowering sense of damp, thick in the air. Cables ran down the stairs from the top to a series of arc lights just through the door at the bottom.

Cullen stepped into a long tunnel that seemed to stretch into infinity. It was regularly spaced with lanterns, which lit up the mould on the grey stone walls. Occasionally he passed bricked up entrances, which he figured were houses once.

Acting DI Colin Methven stood halfway round a slight kink in the path and nodded recognition.

"Good evening, sir," said Cullen, conscious the superior officer liked to be treated as such, even if his tenure was only Acting like Cullen's. Both of them were filling gaps until a formal Police Scotland structure was announced the following week. "What's happened?"

"There's a set of band rehearsal rooms just back there," said Methven. "Hired out by the ghost tour operator just down Niddry Street. One of the bands decided to go for a little wander under the city. Some sort of sodding dare." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "They found a body."

"Shite," said Cullen.

"Quite," said Methven. "They ran up to street level, dialled 999 and I got the call out. Sodding nightmare, Cullen. I can see this eating up the weekend and I'm doing a triathlon at Pitlochry on Saturday, plus I've got a dinner party."

"You'd better show me, then," said Cullen.

Methven led along the corridor. "This place would have been bustling about a hundred and fifty years ago. It was open to the sky before they built on top of it."

Cullen nodded slowly - he'd heard of the many abandoned streets under the Old Town, just didn't know it was so easy to get in without paying a tenner for the privilege. "Quite the history buff?" he said, thinking he'd stepped onto the set of
Time Team
.

"Man's got to have a passion," said Methven. "We're not sure, but we think these run for miles under here."

"Where to?"

"Probably a good way down the Royal Mile," said Methven. "Past the High Street, down the Canongate. But they'd go either side, as well. There are probably pub cellars abutting this path. It might even join up with Mary King's Close."

Jimmy Deeley, the city's pathologist, headed their way.

"Good evening, young Skywalker," said Deeley, stopping just shy of the body.

"No new names, please," said Cullen.

"Have it your way," said Deeley, a cheeky glint in his eye.

Cullen could see James Anderson, the usual SOCO he had to contend with, on his hands and knees examining the crime scene. He moved aside, giving Cullen a view of the corpse. It was just a skeleton propped up against the wall, pieces of flesh hanging off the skull. From the clothes, it looked like a man - jeans, t-shirt and big work boots.

Cullen was reminded of another case he'd worked where a body had been stashed in a barrel of whisky - this was worse. There was nothing left.

Cullen noticed Buxton appear behind Methven, conspicuously avoiding eye contact.

"Any idea who it is?" said Cullen.

"Nope," said Deeley.

"His wallet and phone are gone," said Methven.

Cullen stroked his chin. "Given we think he had a phone, he can't have been down here that long, right? Must have been years to get like that, mind."

"He's wearing a Jeff Buckley t-shirt," said Methven, "so it's not like he's from the Victorian era."

"How long, then?" said Cullen.

"Eighteen months by my reckoning," said Deeley.

Cullen couldn't believe it - there was barely any flesh left. "Is that all? It's a skeleton."

Deeley nodded. "It's very moist down here. A body would just rot, much quicker than being in a coffin, that's for certain." He grinned. "I've declared death, obviously, but anything else will have to wait until I get the body back to my lair."

"When will that be?" said Methven.

Deeley gave a chuckle and winked at Cullen. "At least I could ignore Colin's predecessor. This boy is dangerously competent."

"Quit with the charm offensive," said Methven. "When do we get answers?"

Deeley raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid you're more likely to get more questions. I've got so little to be going on with. Still, at least we know how he died."

Cullen frowned. "How?"

Anderson got up and handed Cullen a bag containing a screwdriver. "This. Still got blood on it, though it's very dry and in danger of flaking off. Doubt I'll find any fingerprints."

Methven turned to Cullen. "Sergeant, I want someone on this immediately. I want a list of all screwdrivers sold in the Central Belt meeting that description."

Cullen nodded, looking at Buxton. "I'll get DC Jain on it," he said, though it had 'wild goose chase' written all over it.

"That's a blessed relief," said Buxton.

Methven wagged a finger at Cullen. "No favouritism here, Sergeant."

"Hardly," said Cullen, irritated by Methven. "Chantal's just a much better cop, that's all."

"Piss off," said Buxton, laughing.

Cullen grinned and turned back to Methven. "Who found the body?"

Methven jerked his thumb back in the direction they had come. "Bunch of students. Three boys, a band calling themselves Public Right of Way."

Cullen shook his head. "What a shite name."

"I've been in worse," said Buxton.

Cullen looked at Methven. "Are they still around?"

Methven nodded.

"I want to speak to them," said Cullen.

CHAPTER 4

Cullen relieved DC Chantal Jain from her crime scene management duties at the front door, ensuring another competent officer took over.

"Great," said Chantal, as they walked down the first flight of steps, "I get to work for you again."

"It's as weird for me as it is you."

"You only got that job because your old boss was kicked off the force."

"That's not the only reason."

"Scott, you're just like all the rest as soon as you get a bit of power."

Cullen stopped outside the room, his blood burning. "I am not."

"Prove it," said Chantal, as she entered the band's room.

Two thirds of Public Right of Way sat around, posing like they were in a jeans advert. The third member leaned against the wall, appearing to be at least ten years older than the others who were clearly students. They all looked stunned.

The walls were the same whitewash as the corridor. Though it was only four metres by five, it was filled with equipment - Cullen figured there was barely enough room for the pretty boys to make rock star shapes with their instruments.

They got to their feet. "Is there any news?" said the first, dyed blonde hair in a long fringe tugged backwards.

BOOK: Bottleneck
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