Dyed in the Wool (18 page)

"Understood." Cullen got to his feet. "Cheers."

"Not so fast." Wilkinson stood up and grabbed the sleeve of Cullen's polo shirt. "Bain's been in my bloody ear asking about the press release you put out. Reckons he's been trying to get hold of you all day."

Cullen looked at his phone's display. Four missed calls from Bain. "Must have come in when I was out for a jog. What was it about?"

"Something to do with a sighting of a car in Ravencraig. Wanted you to head out there."

"Can you get him to speak to ADC Buxton about it?"

"Right, I'll get Britpop onto it." Wilkinson grabbed a bunch of his top. "Remember, if you speak to the Miller boy, you go through me, right?"

"Fine." Cullen headed off, not really knowing what he was going to do about it.

*
*
*

"Here you go." Dawn returned to the table carrying a tray with two large Americanos. "You going to register a note of interest in that flat?"

"The Gorgie one?" Cullen blew on the coffee. "I don't know if I can be bothered."

"Typical Scott."

"How's Johnny doing?" Cullen took an exploratory sip.

"He's good. Away on a stag do this weekend, hence me being so happy to get out of the flat and watch you depress yourself in a series of shoeboxes. Surprised you boys haven't been out more."

"You know how it is, out of sight, out of mind. I've been really busy. And I've spent a lot of time with Sharon."

Dawn smiled. "That's the first time you've mentioned her."

"Is it?"

"I wondered why you were looking for a flat on your own. You've split up, haven't you?"

Cullen took a deep breath. "She lied to me."

"What about?"

"She's bisexual." Saying it out loud made it feel real. The jolt of pain hit Cullen in the heart again.

"Is that a crime?"

"She had an affair with the woman who's now our DI."

"Recently?"

Cullen shook his head. "Ten or eleven years ago."

"How did you find out?"

"The arsehole sergeant I work for blurted it out. Turns out half the bloody station knows."

"And she didn't tell you?"

"No. She didn't."

"How do you feel?"

Cullen looked around the busy cafe, full of young professional couples drinking coffee over the Sunday papers. That would have been him and Sharon. Could have been. Should have been. "I feel fucking angry. I feel let down. Betrayed. Humiliated."

He took a big gulp of coffee, almost burning his mouth. "Our parents met up the other night, you know? I was ready to commit my future to her. I don't mean get married, or any shit like that. I just wanted to be with her."

"Did you tell her how you felt about what she'd done?"

"She got it both barrels, put it that way."

"I meant how you felt, not shouting at her."

He'd told her it was over. He'd shouted at her. Told her he was angry. He hadn't explained. "Not really."

"Maybe you should call her."

*
*
*

Cullen sat on the reclining chair in his bedroom, tossing his phone in the air. Seven p.m. on Sunday. Monday morning weighed heavily on his mind. Mostly the first meeting with Sharon.

He'd call in sick. The worst thing was he couldn't - everyone would know why he wasn't in and he'd find it too hard to come back. How long would he leave it? He could be a right fucking coward at times. Tackle it head on.

He'd deleted her from his contacts and deleted all her texts. He had to dial voicemail and write down her number. A lump formed in his throat as he listened to the first snatch of the very first message on Friday. He pressed dial.

"You've finally decided to answer my calls?"

"It's over, Sharon."

"How can you say it's over?"

"Because you lied to me. You were shacked up with Cargill and you never told me." Cullen sighed. "As it stands, I've no trust left in you and I'm the laughing stock in the station."

"That's what it's all about, then? How the great Scott Cullen can stand in the queue in the canteen and not get jeered at about his girlfriend?"

"What makes you think I'm like that?"

"All this shit about why you're not getting promoted, why Turnbull doesn't rate you. It's all the Scott Cullen show."

"I just want to get what I deserve. I'm pretty much doing DS duties and I'm not getting paid for it. I'm making clowns like Bain look good and he's taking all the glory."

"Whatever. If they don't see you as DS, who will?"

"I've got other irons in the fire."

"I doubt it."

Cullen took a deep breath. "It's over. I can't trust anything you say. All that shit I took over Alison. At least I'm honest. At least I say how I feel."

"Me and Cargill happened when you were still at university. Besides, I didn't lie, I just didn't tell you. Have you told me every girl you've had sex with?"

"I'll get my stuff from your flat next weekend."

A long pause. "That's it? Fourteen months of the best relationship either of us has had and you end it just like that?"

"I had to find out about your love-in with Cargill from Alan fucking Irvine."

"Fine." She sounded ready to hang up.

Cullen looked around his bedroom, his prison for the foreseeable future. The Aberdeen scarf hanging up, the swiped nightclub posters, the view out of the back across the Forth to East Lothian. "We need to act professionally at work. We have to be cordial."

"I'll see what I can do." Sharon ended the call.

Cullen leaned back in his IKEA chair. That went as well as he'd hoped. It was over and she recognised that. They both just needed to move on.

Tears slipped down his face. He rubbed his eyes, trying to stop them flowing. He gave up and gave in to it.

He saw his future disappear - the years he'd planned with her were now gone. He didn't want kids and neither did she. They were a perfect match.

Lying was the worst. Anything else Cullen could bring himself to forgive - if she'd told him, they could have worked it out.

He'd mentioned the shit he'd had to put up with about Alison as a way of scoring more points but it dug into him. All that hassle for nothing in the end.

She'd called him the other day, needing to get things sorted out. He'd acted like such a dick. His brain flooded with the times they'd met up - flirting in his ex-girlfriend's kitchen, going on a date, her turning up at his flat convinced they were an item, finding her in the Schoolbook Killer's bedroom.

Shit.

She wouldn't have been caught up in the case if he hadn't flirted with her and pulled her into his fucked up life.

He called her.

"Alison Carnegie."

"Alison, it's Scott Cullen."

"Why are you calling me?"

He bit his lip. "I was a bit short with you the other day. I was totally out of order. Because of me, you went through hell and you're lucky to be alive. I just wanted to say I'm truly sorry for what happened."

"Okay." She paused. "I'd still like to meet up with you. I need to hear it from you face to face."

He should keep her at arm's length. "Okay."

"How about Tuesday night at six?"

"See you there."

He put the phone down on the bed. Shite.

Monday

8th October 2012

Monday morning, seven a.m.

Back to the new reality.

Cullen stood in the Incident Room, arms folded, one of roughly forty officers in the early briefing.

Cargill was holding court, though it sounded like nothing much had happened over the weekend. "The street team has put in hundreds of man hours over the weekend. So far, we've identified only ten acquaintances of Souness or Aitken. Nobody has seen anything relating to either of their murders."

Across the busy room, Cullen couldn't help but make eye contact with Sharon. She smiled. Cullen looked away.

"Key activity in the Aitken search is for DC Cullen to dig into what happened with the Range Rover theft. That's still a glaring hole in the investigation." Cargill narrowed her eyes as a thin smile spread across her lips. "I hope you're sufficiently refreshed to pick it up and deliver. Everyone else, please report to DS Methven or DS Rarity for actions. Dismissed."

Cullen took a deep breath. Taking a weekend off during a major inquiry hadn't gone down well with the brass. The room burst into action, queues starting to form around the named DSs as they awaited their allocation of tasks.

Cullen found a desk and called Giles Naismith from the CCTV office on the Royal Mile to chase him up for the CCTV records. No answer.

DS Holdsworth headed his way. "DC Cullen, I know you're busy with this case but the Procurator Fiscal's office has been ringing me. Your paperwork on that stabbing in Pilton is overdue."

"Bryan, I gave you the paperwork last week. I don't know what you've done with it since then."

Holdsworth frowned at him. "It's not logged on the system."

"Well, that's not my fault. Papers were given to you on Monday last week. I can certainly try to keep it secret from DCI Turnbull if you've lost them."

Cullen hadn't given him the files. He'd have to look the documentation out and finalise it for submission to Holdsworth and his labyrinthine admin processes.

"I'll have to check through my inbox to make sure the papers were appropriately lodged." Holdsworth waddled off, clipboard in hand.

"Scott, I've been thinking."

Cullen turned around.

Sharon.

He took a deep breath. "What about?"

"I think it would be more appropriate if we swapped Angela for Simon. That way, a DS can have a DC, and a DC can have an ADC."

"Whatever. If you've got a thing for Angela, you just need to say. Of course, you don't like telling me about your lesbian relationships."

"Scott, if you can't be civil, then keep your mouth shut. Do you disagree with swapping them?"

"Sorry. You're probably right. Fine, I'll take Budgie, you have Angela. She's been a bloody nightmare anyway."

"Good." Sharon turned around and left the Incident Room.

Cullen counted to ten. He logged onto the laptop on the desk and found the overdue paperwork. It had been sent. He sent it again, pointing out the error and CCing Turnbull. Ram it, Holdsworth.

Buxton sat down next to him. "Your bird says you've swapped me for Caldwell. That right?"

"It is. You had breakfast?"

"No."

"Come on." Cullen led them out of the emptying room, taking the stairs two at a time. "Good weekend?"

"In here, wasn't I?"

"Desperate to get your full DC stripes, aren't you?" Cullen pushed open the door to the canteen. "Was it busy?"

"Yeah, mate it was. Crystal shoved me out to West Lothian all day yesterday. Bloody nightmare."

Barbara nodded as Cullen joined the queue, only three officers in it.

Buxton picked up a fruit scone and two butter portions. "Why weren't you in?"

"I'll tell you when we sit down."

"Secret bloody squirrel, you."

Cullen paid for his breakfast and went over to bollocking corner, getting stuck into his standard BLT with brown sauce.

"That's fucking unnatural." Buxton pointed at Cullen's roll as he sat, face screwed up. "Brown sauce has no fucking business going anywhere near a tomato."

"What about bacon?"

"Yeah, I'll give you that but it's still a freaky sandwich."

"We call them rolls up here."

"Yeah, whatever." Buxton tucked into his scone. "Don't even start on how I pronounce one of these."

"Truce." Cullen put his roll down, a half-eaten slice of tomato flopping out and smearing the plate with brown. "Sharon and I broke up."

"Bad luck."

"I broke up with her, Budgie."

"Don't call me that, Sundance."

"Fine, fine, I was the one doing the breaking up."

"Not cos you couldn't get it up?"

Cullen laughed. "That was the least of our problems. Twice a night, at least."

"What happened, then?"

"I found out she had an affair with DI Cargill."

Buxton almost fell off his chair. "What, recently?"

"Ten years ago."

"I don't get it, mate."

"The trouble is she didn't tell me."

"Nightmare."

Cullen's phone rang.

"It's Mr Naismith, I've got your tapes."

"That was quick."

"We've got an increased service level agreement. Have to turn things around for the police in minutes these days."

"Glad to hear it."

Naismith sniffed. "I'll leave them at reception."

"Thanks." Cullen ended the call. He looked at Buxton, tucking into his scone. "Got a great errand to run."

"What is it?"

Cullen couldn't bring himself to ask Buxton to get the tapes. He glanced at the serving area and caught Irvine heading over with his usual fry-up. "Great." He munched the rest of his roll and put the lid on his coffee.

Irvine sat down alongside them. "Good result for your boys at the weekend there, Cullen. Three one away to Killie isn't bad."

Cullen grabbed his coffee and got to his feet.

Irvine frowned. "Was it something I said?"

"It was, aye."

*
*
*

Cullen entered the Incident Room to fetch his jacket for the walk to the Royal Mile and immediately regretted it.

"DC Curran, not so fast." Wilkinson was in the middle of the room, standing beside Bain.

Cullen grabbed his coat.

"Curran!" Wilkinson walked over, arms folded.

"What is it? I've got an urgent task for DI Cargill."

"I bet you do, lad. It's about your buddy, Derek Miller."

"What about him?"

"Well, since you spoke to me yesterday, I did a bit of digging. Turns out he's involved in my case. One of the few witnesses that we do have reckons young Miller was at the quarry for the fight. I'm sure I bloody mentioned it to you the other day."

Cullen tried to look mystified.

Wilkinson sighed. "There was a hooligan fight in West Lothian, at a place called Ginty's Quarry. Two deaths. If I can crack this one, then I'm a bloody DCI."

Cullen nodded. Two and two together. Derek Miller's black eye was definitely not from a mugging, but the result of a hooligan fight. "Thanks for letting me know. Do you want me to have a chat with him about it?"