Dyed in the Wool (2 page)

Cullen shrugged. "I went up a couple when I was in uniform."

"And he's got detectives for someone taking a tumble off one?"

"Reckons it's fishy. You know what he's like. Playing it defensive before Police Scotland. He needs to make sure that everything is done to the letter, by the book. Turnbull's orders, anyway."

"He's not in a good place. Things will keep changing. And Cargill is pretty much running the show now."

"Don't I know it." Cullen pulled up at the lights by Morrisons. "She's busting Irvine's balls and he's busting mine."

"You can bust Buxton's balls, then. That's how it works."

"The only reason Bain's got this case is because Cargill's on leave, right?"

"Aye. Not due back in till tomorrow." She finished the coffee. "What else did he say?"

"Just head to Winchburgh. Mobile incident room. We'll get driven over. Blah blah blah."

"I hope he's interrupted a family dinner for something important."

"Don't tell me you're not glad to get away."

"In future, let's only do one set of parents at a time."

"Agreed." Cullen pulled off from the traffic lights. "Mad Alison phoned me again."

Sharon looked round, eyebrows arched. "What did she want?"

"To meet up. She's got a new counsellor and he said it would be good to get closure on us."

She gritted her teeth. "There was no us, was there?"

"I told her to stop calling me. Hopefully this time she'll actually listen."

"Thanks for telling me." She sounded anything but thankful.

*
*
*

The police Range Rover broke the cover of the light wood as it trundled over from Winchburgh.

"When you get up close they're actually covered with trees and bushes."

"They're still pretty red."

Cullen shrugged. "I suppose."

The Range Rover stopped at the bottom of one of the bings.

Cullen waved thanks to the uniform as they got out, watching him do a three-pointer before heading back.

Sharon led them towards the tent Scenes of Crime Officers had set up, a network of arc lights giving some detail to the pitch black.

Cullen looked up. "You can almost see the stars tonight, even though we're not that far from Edinburgh."

"I'll get you a telescope for Christmas, shall I?"

"Maybe not."

An outer cordon had been established at the base, a familiar face in full uniform stood there, clipboard in hand.

Cullen chuckled to himself. "It's Shagger."

"Shagger? Him?"

"PC Paul Green. Aye. Same way you'd call a tall guy Shorty."

"You'll get caught out with your nicknames one day, Scott."

"Yeah, probably." Cullen waved as they approached.

Green held up the clipboard. "We're all safe now that Detective Constable Scott Cullen has shown up!"

Cullen walked up and shook hands. "Been a long time, Paul."

"You've forgotten us, Scotty, now you're a big city cop."

Cullen laughed. "This is DS Sharon McNeill."

Green looked her up and down. "Paul Green."

Cullen snatched the clipboard off him and signed them both in. "PC Green and I used to work out of Bathgate."

"Back in the dim and distant."

Cullen handed him the clipboard. "You been here long?"

"Was second here. You know how it is - blue lights, yellow tape. Been here three hours and it's getting colder." Green held up the clipboard. "Some nightmare of a DI put me on crime scene management duties."

Cullen looked around. "I'd put money on knowing which DI it was. Bain?"

"Aye."

"So, what's happened? I just got a 'get your arse out here' message."

Green pointed behind them. "A Range Rover was spotted in a the field. Looks like it's rolled down the side of the bing. It's practically a munro. No chance anyone's going to survive that, no matter how good their four-by-four is."

Sharon folded her arms. "Why's CID here?"

Green gave a shrug. "You know how it is. Everybody's so scared of Police Scotland they're taking no chances. Anything that looks slightly suspicious is going to you guys first. Ask me, it's people keeping themselves in jobs."

"Couldn't Livingston have handled this?"

Green grinned. "This is just inside Edinburgh City. Half a mile that way and it's West Lothian."

Sharon smiled at Cullen. "Come on, we'd better get over."

Cullen nodded. "I'll be a few minutes."

Green watched Sharon trudge up the path to the crime scene. "That your DS?"

"Used to be."

"Wouldn't mind a go up that."

"She's my girlfriend now."

"Fuck's sake. Sorry, Scotty."

"You're not any less of a dirty bastard these days, then, Shagger?"

"Aye, well, got to live up to my nickname, somehow."

Cullen laughed.

"Evening, Cullen." James Anderson, one of the lead SOCOs, grabbed the clipboard from Green.

"Evening, James."

Anderson headed over to the group.

Cullen recognised most of them but couldn't place the uniformed male officer chatting to DS Alan Irvine, his current boss and long-term adversary. "Enough banter. Give me a blow-by-blow of what's happened here. Any eyewitnesses?"

"Nope. Local farmer called it in at about half five. Heard a big thump from over this way. We headed out and found the wreckage." Green pointed to a tent, an orange car nestling beneath the canvas.

Bain stood there, arms folded, staring at it.

"Bastard luck, though, Scotty. I was seeing some boy in Kirkliston about a drug deal when I got the call through."

"You still in Bathgate?"

"Aye, for my sins."

"I'll need to pop out." Cullen pointed at Irvine. "Any idea who that is?"

"Some wanker DS from out your way."

"That is my DS. I meant the other guy."

"Fuck's sake, man. Didn't mean anything by it."

"It's okay, he is a wanker." Cullen patted his shoulder. "Any idea who the other one is?"

"Kieron something. First Attending Officer. He's based out at Bathgate, but he covers your old patch of Ravencraig. Seems like a bit of a cock."

Cullen laughed. "So everyone's still a cock, a wanker or a bit of skirt?"

"Aye, well, can't help it if I'm perfect."

"Anything else I should know?"

"Nope."

"I'll pop in and see you sometime, maybe go for a pint?"

"Sounds good." Green looked over Cullen's shoulder at some newcomers.

Cullen headed through the light rain and mud towards the wreckage. The inner cordon was guarded by another uniformed officer. It should have been CID officers managing the process. Maybe Bain wanted continuity from when it had been established.

"Here, wait up."

Cullen looked behind him.

Irvine had finished his chat and was on his way over. He started to jog, his feet splashing in the dirty puddles. "Bain call you out?"

Cullen nodded. "We were at Sharon's parents."

"Christ, it's getting serious."

"Aye." Cullen quickened the pace.

"He caught me just as I was leaving, was going to catch up with you, but you'd already left."

"Had my counselling."

Irvine laughed. "Aye, good one. What a skive that is."

Cullen ignored him as they approached Bain and Sharon.

Bain stretched out. "Here's my dream team. Cannon and Ball."

Cullen smiled, desperate to disarm him. "I'm not going to ask who's who."

"Best leave it that way, Sundance, you don't want another nickname."

Irvine reached into his pocket and retrieved a tub of chewing gum. "I better not be Ball, by the way."

Bain laughed. "Last thing you are is on the ball."

"Speaking of which, who've Rangers got in the next round of the Glenmorangie Camanachd Cup? Is it Forres Mechanics?"

Bain rubbed his moustache. "That's a fuckin' shinty tournament for teuchters like Sundance here, you cheeky bastard."

Cullen grimaced. "We don't play shinty in Angus."

Bain glared at Irvine. "Football is off limits for the next three years, you know that. Besides, a Jambo like you shouldn't talk about the financial difficulties of another club. Paid the wages this month?"

Irvine shrugged his shoulders. "Still in the SPL, though."

"For now." Bain grinned.

Sharon put a hand on her hip. "Shall I leave you boys to talk about football all night?"

Bain held her gaze for a few seconds then smiled. "Right, I'm SIO on this case. We've got Scene of Crime here and Deeley's just been signed into the inner cordon. Thank fuck the pathologist isn't going to hold us up for once." He turned and faced the wreckage of the car. "From what we can tell, the Range Rover rolled off the top. The thing is totally battered."

Cullen glanced over at the car. "What about the victim?"

"No idea who he is. The science boys will be a fuckin' week digging the body out at this rate. From the brief glance I've had through what's left of the windscreen, we've got an IC1 male in his early twenties. Light build, dark hair. Not much blood or brains left."

"So why are we involved?" Sharon flicked her hair over. "This feels like a pretty run-of-the-mill case. Some local ned steals a car and takes it for a run down the bing, ends up getting himself killed."

Bain creased his forehead. "Who said anything about it being stolen?"

"Is it?"

Bain got out his notebook. "Got one of the laddies to run a PNC check on the number plate, even though it was in about seven bits and scattered half across this field. Turns out it was stolen off a boy in Ravencraig."

Cullen winced. "Ravencraig used to be my beat when I was in Bathgate."

"Lovely place." Bain smiled. "Right, well there's a whole heap of fuck all going on here just now." He nodded at Cullen and Sharon. "Can you pair go and speak to this boy?"

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Be just like old times, Butch, before you let Sundance here into your knickers."

"I'm not living here." Cullen pulled in outside the address Bain had given them. A large, modern detached house with the barest of gardens.

"It's cheap."

"For a reason. Most other places I'll consider. I'm practically public enemy number one out here."

"We'll never afford anywhere at this rate." Sharon got out and stormed off up the drive.

Cullen followed, clocking another Range Rover as he walked, before waiting beside Sharon as she rang the bell.

Craig Smith answered the door, frowning at Sharon's warrant card. "Have you found it?"

Sharon pocketed her card. "Can we come in?"

Smith led them inside through the sprawling hall into a large living room, occupying the space of three or four rooms in a standard house. Pride of place was given to a large reclining armchair in front of a flat-screen TV that Cullen guessed must be in excess of sixty inches. A football match filled the screen, the sound muted.

Smith sat and switched off the screen then swivelled the chair round to face Cullen and Sharon on the sofa. "When can I get my car back?"

"I'm afraid it is almost certainly written off." Sharon got out her notebook. "It rolled down one of the shale bings by the M9."

"That's a bloody shame. It's a one-off." Smith's face twisted into a smile. "And not just the paintwork."

Cullen nodded. "The orange?"

"I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Rangers fan." Smith pointed at the wall behind them - a Rangers shirt from the McEwen's Lager days hung above the mantelpiece. "Signed by Mark Hately the day we beat Aberdeen to win the title in ninety-two."

Cullen stabbed his pen into his notebook, not needing reminded of that day. "What can you tell us about the vehicle, Mr Smith?"

"That car cost me eighty grand. Custom suspension, custom body work. I won't bore you with the engine specs."

"I can see why someone would want to steal it, then."

"Aye, well, you'd think it would have been easy for you lot to find a bright orange Range Rover, but no."

"Were you at work when the car was stolen?"

"I was. I've got three Range Rovers. I use that one for the occasional weekend trip up north or something. It was just sitting on the drive outside. I should have locked it away."

Sharon cleared her throat. "What do you do for a living?"

"I own a garage in Ravencraig. Ranger Rover."

"Could the theft be in any way linked to your job?"

Smith rolled his shoulders. "You tell me."

Sharon leaned forward. "When we found the car, there was a body behind the wheel."

Smith gasped. "You're joking."

"Wish I was. A young man, white, early twenties. Any idea who it might be?"

Smith stared into space for a few seconds before shaking his head. "None at all, I'm afraid. Must be the person who stole it. I went through this with your colleague the other day. He said there'd been a spate of car thefts in West Lothian."

Cullen looked at Sharon - he had nothing further. Neither did she.

*
*
*

Cullen stopped outside the mobile Incident Room in Winchburgh, a police caravan at the edge of a muddy football pitch. He pointed at Bain through the window, going mental at someone. "Better give it a minute."

"Who's that?"

Cullen peered in. "I think it's the First Attending Officer."

Sharon leaned back against the caravan. "What do you think of Smith, then?"

"I think he's dodgy."

She laughed. "Is that based on anything he said, or what he had hanging over his mantelpiece?"

"Aye well, never trust a car salesman, especially in Ravencraig."

"Especially a Rangers fan?"

"It's nothing to do with that. It's the fact he's selling cars."

"I can see why you don't trust them." She grinned. "It's time you got a new car."

"We need to have a proper chat about this. Am I saving for our mortgage or spending money on cars?"

The pool Range Rover appeared from the bottom of the bing.

The Edinburgh City Pathologist, Jimmy Deeley, almost dropped his bulging medical bag as he get out. He smiled at them as he approached. "Where's the prince of darkness at this hour?"

Cullen pointed in the window. "Giving some poor uniform a shoeing."