Dyed in the Wool (13 page)

"And he beat you up?"

"No." Tait avoided Cullen's eyes. "It was about four weeks later. I'd been out in Edinburgh and got the last bus home, gets into Ravencraig at three. I'd been in CC's all night, had a wonderful time and I was walking home from the bus stop. Kenny jumped me. He hit me on the side of the head then pushed me over. A couple of other gorillas held me down as he kicked me."

"How did they know you'd be there?"

"Xander was on the night bus. He must have called ahead."

Cullen frowned as he made a note of it. He flicked back a few pages, finding the statement from Xander's workmate, the supposition that he'd get the bus back to Ravencraig. "And this was at three a.m.?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then, so what happened after they attacked you?"

"They left me in the street, covered head to toe in bruises. I probably cracked a rib - it still hurts. I somehow managed to crawl home. I didn't leave the house for weeks. Kelly-Marie was a saint, she nursed me and got me back to full health."

"So what happened?"

"I'd had enough of that place. It was like a bomb waiting to go off. I'd get killed if I stayed there. I'd had abuse in the street, don't get me wrong, but nothing like that. Now that those boys knew what I was, they'd not stop until either I left or they killed me."

"So you left the town?"

Tait nodded. "I had friends up here. My landlord's a good man. He helps me out. I really should have moved earlier."

Cullen tapped his finger on his notebook. He'd nailed another one. Still needed some shoe leather, but he reckoned he almost had Tait for Souness. Hopefully, the murder of Xander Aitken would quickly follow. "Okay, let me just ask you straight out. Did you kill Kenny Souness?"

Tait narrowed his eyes. "No. No way."

"Mr Tait, you've a motive. We can always find means and opportunity. We're very resourceful like that. I want to know your whereabouts from Monday morning to Thursday morning."

"I was in Edinburgh."

"That's very convenient."

Tait leaned forward on the settee. "I was. I work Thursday to Monday here, then I go and play. Mostly in Stirling, sometimes Glasgow, sometimes London but quite often in Edinburgh."

"And what do you do for a living?"

"I'd incriminate myself if I told you that."

"I'm here on my own, Gavin. I've no means of corroboration. I'd need to get you on the record in front of your lawyer."

Tait laughed. "Are you trying to buy my trust or something?"

"I'm trying to get you to talk. I don't care what you do. I'd imagine it involves meeting married businessmen here and lying on your front a lot."

"You'd not be a million miles away."

"Edinburgh. Where were you? I want names, addresses, places."

"I stayed with Tim and Colin, two very good friends of mine. They live just off Broughton Street."

Cullen knew it well - it was one of Edinburgh's two gay streets. "And what did you get up to?"

Tait smirked. "What didn't we get up to?"

"Mr Tait, you're a suspect in a murder enquiry. The only suspect. You better make sure you're keeping me onside here."

"Right, so you're threatening me now?"

"Places."

"Fine. We'd mainly been in CC Blooms but we went to Planet Out, Cafe Habana and some bars on Broughton Street I can't remember the names of."

"Were you with them all the time?"

"All the time. We weren't apart the whole three days. Even at night."

"Thank you." Cullen tried to avoid thinking what three consenting adults could get up to. "I'm going to verify your story. If I find anything out of place, you'll be giving a formal statement and probably facing charges."

"I've nothing to worry about then." Tait grinned. "I'll see you around."

Cullen glared at him. "I'd advise you don't leave the country. We'll be monitoring your movements."

"Good. I hope you'll help me avoid another kicking."

Cullen got up and left the flat. He walked back to his car, certain Tait had done it. A revenge killing - he'd killed Souness because of the beating. He'd been with his friends all the time, never a moment apart. Convenient.

At some point, he'd have to log it in the case file with Holdsworth. First he needed to visit Tim and Colin, either at home or at work, then go to each of the bars to look for holes in the story Tait had spun.

He turned the ignition just as his phone rang. Bain. Shite. "Where the fuck are you, Sundance?"

"Stirling."

"Stirling?"

"I'm working a lead."

"Right. Anything I should know about?"

"Not yet."

"Well, I need you in Ravencraig. I want to speak to this Craig Smith boy whose car was pinched. You spoke to him earlier, I want us back there."

"Why me? I thought Chantal Jain was looking into that."

"Aye, well, Cargill's pulled her off it."

"Has my time been approved?"

"Quit with the games. Yes, it's been approved."

"I've got my car up here."

"Right, I'll meet you at Bathgate station, okay?"

Cullen felt Tait disappear from his grasp.

"Fuckin' Chelsea tractors." Bain got out of his car and zapped the central locking. "Don't know when proper cars went out of fashion."

"Is a Mondeo a proper car?"

"You of all people shouldn't be commenting on another man's car, Sundance."

"What's the drill here, then?"

"Just sit there and look pretty. Sure you can manage it?"

Bain led over, the glass front giving way to a large room filled with Range Rovers and Land Rovers of varying styles. There were a few customers inside, though Cullen couldn't work out why anyone would spend their lunch hour in a Range Rover showroom.

Craig Smith was in the middle of the showroom, talking to a customer beside an orange Evoque, a carbon copy of the vehicle Xander Aitken was found in.

Cullen wave over. "That's him."

"Let's give him a minute."

They waited beside another car, Bain leaning against it and folding his arms.

Cullen copied Bain's pose. "What are you thinking about DI Cargill then?"

Bain glared at him. "She can go fuck herself. Swanning in here and stealing my investigation like that. And she can take that twat Methven with her - useless fucker. Sometimes I wonder what I did to Jim Turnbull to upset him so much. Then I remember the fact I keep solving cases and showing him up. He's fuckin' jealous."

Cullen didn't quite follow the logic. "DCI Turnbull asked what I thought of Bill Lamb."

Bain scowled. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

"Damn straight."

"That giant-shagging twat?"

"I wouldn't put it that way but Caldwell's boyfriend, aye."

"Fuck's sake. That's all I fuckin' need. If it's not him, it'll be Methven trying for my job. Got to watch your back in this game, Sundance, I'll tell you that for nothing."

Smith walked over, hand casually in a trouser pocket of his three-piece pinstripe suit. "Cullen, isn't it?"

Cullen held up his warrant card. "This is Detective Inspector Bain."

Bain flashed his own card.

Cullen pointed at the orange Range Rover. "I see you've replaced it already."

"Oh, that's not a patch on my previous car."

Bain grunted at him. "Have you got an office?"

"Certainly." Smith grinned before leading them across the showroom to a glass-fronted office, the heels on his polished brogues clicking all the way. He gestured for them to take the seats in front of his clear glass desk, largely empty except for a Moleskine notebook and a preposterously large Apple iMac. He made a bridge with his hands and looked across the desk at them. "Now, how can I help?"

Bain got out his notebooks, loudly clicking his pen. "Mr Smith, your car was found at the bottom of a shale bing near Winchburgh. Inside the car was the body of a young man from Ravencraig, an Alexander Aitken."

"Your colleagues have been over this with me already."

"Were you acquainted with Mr Aitken?"

Smith leaned back in his chair. "We've been through this."

"Right, you have no idea who Mr Aitken is?"

"None whatsoever. I probably passed him in the street or saw him in the Tesco but I've never knowingly met him."

"And you're sure about that?"

Smith leaned forward. "Inspector, if you've got some evidence to suggest I knew Mr Aitken, then please share it with me. Until your colleague and DS McNeill appeared the other night, I'd no idea he even existed."

"What about Kenny Souness?"

"Never heard of him either. Sorry."

Bain scribbled something down. "Have you started the insurance claim yet?"

Smith leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. "My insurer wrote it off and a claim's now in progress."

"I see. How much is the car worth?"

"That particular beast cost me eighty grand." Smith reached into a desk drawer to retrieve a paper folder. "A like-for-like replacement will be in the region of ninety. The custom engine's risen significantly since." He tossed the folder onto the desktop. "Have a look, if you want. In case you think I may benefit in any way, I won't. That car was personally tuned by my mechanic here and ran like clockwork. I'm going to have to go through it all again, which will be a royal pain in the arse."

Bain flicked through the file. "Take me through the events surrounding the theft."

Smith smiled at Cullen. "I can get my assistant to make you a coffee if you want to sit this one out again."

Bain tossed the file on the desk, sending a few sheets spilling out. "Mr Smith, I want a detailed statement of what happened. We can do that at the station if you'd prefer but I don't imagine a busy man like yourself can spare the time."

"I'm just mindful of how many times I've told this story." Smith put the folder away. "There was DC Cullen and DS McNeill the other night. Before that, there was the young constable who took the initial call."

"I'm not in the mood." Bain folded his arms. "Here or the station?"

"Fine." Smith threw his hands up in the air. "It was stolen on Tuesday. I took the Defender into work - I do that every Tuesday just to keep it roadworthy. I've got a problem with collecting cars, you see."

"Not a problem I've got." Bain scribbled a note down. "When did you notice that car was missing?"

"We were pretty quiet on Tuesday, so I left Alistair in charge and went home early. There were football internationals on the telly and I had some legal documents to get through. The car wasn't there when I got home. It usually occupies pride of place in the drive. That's when I called the police in."

"Fine." Bain scribbled something down in his pad then pocketed his notebook. "That's all from me."

Cullen frowned - he'd been expecting another twenty minutes or so of grilling.

Bain got to his feet. "Thanks for your time." He handed him a card. "Give me a shout if anything else comes up."

*
*
*

"What was that all about?" Cullen gripped the grab handle above the door.

"All what about?" Bain hit the national speed limit sign already at sixty as they left Ravencraig, heading back towards Bathgate.

"You were giving him a doing and then you just stopped."

"He's not our boy."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Fuckin' Cargill just had me running a little insurance policy. Only people who'd spoken to this boy were you and your bird, before we found out about Souness. She just wanted to make sure there's nothing dodgy about him. Only fingerprints we've got in that motor are his and Aitken's. As far as I'm aware, that's him out of our enquiry."

"And you needed me for it?"

"Continuity of investigation." Bain passed over two roundabouts at reckless speed. "Doubt Craig Smith's involved. What have you been up to, anyway, Sundance?"

"This and that."

"What?"

"Been speaking to some snouts, if you must know."

"Oh aye," said Bain, suddenly sounding interested. "What about?"

"Nothing. Background."

They entered Bathgate from the north, past rows of new-build housing, all erected in the last fifteen years.

"Fuck of a lot of background. Nobody's got any idea what you've been doing."

"I'm digging into Xander Aitken as Cargill asked."

"So it's not just me you don't tell anything to?"

"No comment."

Bain looked over at him as they stopped at a set of traffic lights. "Don't hold anything back from me, Cullen."

"As if I would."

"You've got previous." Bain winced. "You bastard, you."

"You okay?"

"I'm bursting for a shite." The lights changed and Bain floored it, heading into the forest of new builds.

"Can't you go at the station?"

"I've got better bog roll at home."

Bain pulled into the drive of a two-storey semi-detached house, getting out before the handbrake was even on. "Get us a coffee while I do this?"

"I wonder if the amount of caffeine you consume has anything to do with the state your guts are in."

"Just get me one, Sundance." Bain trotted off up his drive, legs dancing as he struggled with his keys.

Cullen followed him, retrieving the keys still hanging from the lock. He went inside, surprised at the decor in the hall - white walls with sensitive artworks in strong colours.

He tried a door. Living room. Same paint job, huge TV, stack of DVDs.

He tried another door. Kitchen. A large Batman poster on the wall - Cullen recognised it from his flatmate Tom's collection, the cover to The Dark Knight Returns graphic novel. He took a photo on his phone and sent it to Caldwell. Bain's house - the root of all his shit Batman + Robin jokes.

On the black granite counter sat a Nespresso coffee maker. Cullen didn't know what he was doing but he hoped it worked. He got a mug off the tree and put it under the nozzle. He pushed a cartridge in and pressed the button for Americano. The silver machine clicked and started rattling, before hissing for a few seconds. It flashed up 'Enjoy your drink!'

Cullen opened a few of the matte black cabinets, eventually finding the fridge. He reached down and took out a pint of milk. He sniffed it, trying to work out if it was still okay.