Windchill (12 page)

Buxton grinned. "See, he's not too bad."

"Whatever." Cullen switched his laptop on and logged onto the PNC, executing a check on McCoull. Nothing jumped out at him. Except for the latest entry. He nudged at Buxton. "Have you seen this?"

Buxton wheeled over. "What's this?"

"The PNC."

"I was just in there myself. That's the burglary at McCoull's house in June, right?"

"You knew about it?"

"Just found out, mate. Don't go off the deep end, okay?"

"Have you done anything with it?"

"Just off the blower with the investigating officer."

"What was taken?"

"That's the thing. Doesn't look like anything was missing. Just rearranged."

"That's odd."

"Tell me about it. What do you think it means?"

"No idea." Cullen leaned back in his seat. Why rob a house and not take anything? He stared at the screen, the pixels shifting in and out of focus. The line above it looked odd. He tapped the screen. "Action Fraud is that hotline for grassing people up, right?"

"Yeah. What's it mean?"

Cullen selected the row and accessed the full data view. "Looks like there's an action pending by the National Fraud Intelligence Bureau."

"That's City of London police, right?"

"Think so." Cullen read through the text, the last update by
Det Insp Jeremy Atherton
. "Looks like McCoull was being investigated for tax 'irregularities'."

"Shall we call him?"

"We can try." Cullen locked the laptop and got to his feet. "Come on, grab your coat."

"What about my roll?"

Chapter 28

"That DI Atherton's definitely away. Just got through to his guv'nor. Three weeks in Australia." Buxton rang the bell and waited. "But, of course, you reckon Young knows something."

"If he doesn't, we're waiting till DI Atherton's back from the beach and barbecues." Cullen looked around the street, the front windows of the houses lit up in the mid-morning gloom. A few kids cycled around, presumably on their main presents, while others used scooters or radio controlled cars. "I used to love Christmas morning. Seeing what my mates got, playing with my own new gear."

"I thought you were all Scrooge about Christmas."

Cullen shrugged. "Give me a Super Nintendo and I'm anyone's."

"I was more of a Playstation kid." Buxton smirked as the front door opened.

"Officers." Young stood there, wearing the same apron as the previous day. "What is it this time?"

"Need to ask you a few supplementary questions, sir."

Young shook his head. "Not today, I'm afraid."

"It's important."

"I'm sure it is. But it can wait. I'm just about to get the turkey in the oven then I have to drive to North Berwick to collect my in-laws."

"We can do this down the station, if you'd prefer?"

"Very well." Young flared his nostrils as he showed them inside, the house filled with the reek of the oven as it heated burnt-on grease. He led them into the study and sat, arms crossed, feet tapping. "Well, what is it?"

Cullen took his time getting out his notebook. Let's throw a curve ball first. "Mr Young, do you know who stands to inherit Mr McCoull's estate?"

"I'm not privy to that sort of information, I'm afraid."

"Do you know who his lawyers are?"

"McLintock or something. Why?"

"Thanks." Cullen sighed. Campbell McLintock was the last person he wanted to speak to. "We understand you were being investigated by HMRC?"

"
We
weren't. It was just Steven."

"Go on."

"It was nothing. Really."

"I'm not sure they'd agree with you. A DI in City of London police was investigating."

Young steepled his fingers, flexing them in a quick rhythm. "Listen, somebody got carried away about Steven putting his golf club membership through the company. It was a fair whack of cash, admittedly, but nothing too bad, you know?"

"Why would he do that in the first place?"

"Because otherwise you're paying it net."

"How much are we talking about here?"

"It cost him about ten thousand pounds."

Cullen noted it down. That's a good chunk of McCoull's income. "So why not just pay it?"

"Because, if he didn't, he'd have been paying it out of his net receipts from the business. I'm not sure how mathematical you are."

Cullen shrugged. "Not very."

"Fine." Young leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. "If Steven paid the ten grand out of his own pocket, he was effectively adding the tax onto it. Assume he's taxed at twenty-five per cent. That ten grand has another two and a half grand on it. Or, alternatively, if it's paid out of the business, it's effectively twenty per cent
lower
. It only costs him eight grand."

"Not twenty-five per cent lower?"

"No."

Cullen scribbled it in his pad. Need to check that out. "How come?"

"Because he'd have to take the tax amount as well to get the same. I can write this up for you, if you wish."

"It's okay, I believe you."

"Additionally, the membership was offset against tax as a business expenses so it came off our liability for Corporation Tax. That's why he did it."

"Did you do it as well?"

Young smiled. "I don't play golf, I'm afraid."

"How do you feel about the fact he's putting a big chunk of a personal expense through your company?"

"I was fine with it."

"Why?"

"A number of our business leads came from the nineteenth hole, as it were. Chaps with a few grand sitting around who wanted it working for them rather than losing value."

"So it was in your accounts as a golf club membership?"

"Well, not quite." Young snorted. "We managed it as 'Business Entertainment' and a few other expenses, I think. Our accountants were comfortable about that treatment. As were the Revenue for a few years until they got wind of what it was."

"Any idea how HMRC found out?"

"No idea. Steven did ask them. An anonymous tip-off was about as specific as he got." Young held up his hands. "Happens all the time. And, believe you me, it's not in my best interests to get a business partner in the shit with the bloody tax man."

"I can imagine. Who would want to get him into difficulty?"

"No idea." Young sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "Look, it's nothing like when Steven went bankrupt."

A jolt went up Cullen's spine. "Excuse me?"

"You must surely have heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Steven was bankrupt ten years ago. 2003, I believe."

Cullen narrowed his eyes. "No, we haven't heard about this."

"I see." Young looked away.

"Do you what happened?"

"All I know is the business he owned at the time went to the wall. He was eventually discharged by Companies House and was allowed to become a company director again, hence us starting up JG Investments." Young unfastened his apron and tugged it over his head. "The receivers really went for him over it. HMRC was the main one. Inland Revenue as was."

"So why did he play silly buggers with them this time round?"

"He honestly thought he wasn't doing anything wrong. I swear."

"Was it just Mr McCoull involved in this business?"

"I think there was another man, but I don't know his name."

"We'll need it."

"Look, I'm sorry. This is before I moved here. I simply don't know. I've heard anecdotes after fifteen pints down the rugby club, that's it. Nothing concrete."

"Who would know?"

"Donald Ingram might."

"Really? Was he involved?"

"I can't remember. All I know about Donald is he just got fed up of whatever business he was in, sold up and moved to Spain." Young got to his feet. "Now, do you mind if I get back to watching my kids open their presents?"

"One last thing." Cullen held up a finger. "Do you know anything about a burglary at Mr McCoull's house in June?"

"Afraid not, no."

Chapter 29

"Look, officer, it's
Christmas Day
."

Cullen swapped his mobile to the other ear, eyes scanning down the street as he leaned back in the car seat. "I understand that, Mr Ingram, I just need to spe-"

"Look, I'm sorry, son, but I've got a busy day here. I've not got time for this."

"Mr Ingram, as I've mentioned before, we're dealing with a murder. I'm really sorry to have to drag you away from the pool or wherever but there's something we need to discuss with you."

Ingram paused for a few seconds. "Right. What is it?"

"We understand Mr McCoull was declared bankrupt ten years ago."

"That's correct. 2003."

"Why didn't you disclose it to me last night?"

"Is it pertinent to your investigation?"

"It could be. Another witness just mentioned it to us."

"Right. And?"

"He said you'd know about it."

"Did he?" Ingram sighed. "Okay. So what? Ten years ago, Steven was declared bankrupt. The business he had at the time went to the wall."

"Do you know why?"

"Not really. I only know from chatting to Steven or stuff I've heard from others. I wasn't involved myself, of course. I was more into conveyancing. Property law."

"We understand there was another party in the business."

"That's correct. I think Steven's business partner was called Richard. I don't know his surname. Sorry."

"Do you have a number for him?"

"Sorry, mate. I just knew he was called Richard. Do you mind if I go?"

"Fine. Give me a call if anything comes up."

"Will do."

The call ended.

Cullen looked across at Buxton, still on the phone himself. He stared up at the dark flat, lit up by the blue light of a TV.

His phone rang. Sharon. "How's it going?"

Cullen sighed. "Getting somewhere, I think."

"Right. I'm not getting my roast chicken, am I?"

"I doubt it."

"Shall I threaten you with my cooking?"

"The bacon roll was good this morning."

"It's a bit harder doing a chicken."

"That Delia Smith book flops open at the roast chicken recipe."

"Mm."

"Look, we'll sort something out."

"Mum's been on the phone. We're welcome over there."

"I'd rather just have a packet of crisps than hear your dad and your uncle Brian talk Hibs and Celtic."

"At least you can talk that language."

Buxton tapped his shoulder. "Got something."

Cullen glanced over at Buxton, the sunlight shining from behind and silhouetting him. "Better go."

"Right, please get home in time. Love you."

"Will do. Love you, too." Cullen pocketed his phone.
 

"Mwah, mwah, love you." Buxton blew kisses into the air.

"Piss off." Cullen scowled at him. "And you want to listen to me talk seriously about stuff?"

"Offer still stands, mate." Buxton stared straight ahead. He held up his own phone. "That was Tommy Smith in the Phone Squad. He's pinned four calls on her and the GPS shows the phone stayed in the flat apart from a sojourn to Waitrose. His words not mine."

"Right, I just spoke with Ingram." Cullen nodded up at Evelyn McCoull's flat. "I reckon your little cougar might know something."

"Piss off."

Chapter 30

Evelyn McCoull collapsed into her sofa, a glass of white wine in front of her, the TV paused halfway through a film with Sandra Bullock. "Should I get my lawyer in here?"

Cullen nudged himself down on the armchair opposite, waiting for Buxton to do the same. "This isn't related to the matter we discussed during your detention last night, Mrs McCoull."

"What is it then?"

Cullen tried to drag his eyes away from the TV. "We understand your husband was made bankrupt in 2003."

A frown flickered onto her forehead. "And what of it?"

"You didn't think to tell us?"

"It didn't seem relevant."

Cullen sighed. "Mrs McCoull, a lot of people lost money as a result of your ex-husband's actions. That's a lot of people we should be speaking to as potential suspects."

"I'm sorry."

"I seem to say this a lot, but I'd much rather exclude facts at a later date than not include them at the start."

"I said I'm sorry."

Cullen took a breath, just about calm. "What happened to your husband after the bankruptcy?"

"Steven got a job on George Street at Standard Life Investments. Earned a decent amount and it kept his hand in. He saved up over that time. He used to talk about how obsessed with failure the British were. It's different in America. The whole thing just made him more determined than ever."

"I assume his bankruptcy was discharged if he went on to own another company?"

"It was. It took ages, though."

Cullen frowned as he recalled a previous case he'd worked with a bankruptcy. "I thought it was usually just a year."

"The receiver didn't like what he found."

"Which was?"

"Well, the business wasn't doing so well and our house was secured against the company."

"So they extended Steven's discharge period?"

"They did. They were trying to get the house sold and it took a long time. There were loads of new builds hitting the market and there was a wee scare about flooding in the street. Nobody wants a not-quite new build, do they? The bank wasn't exactly pleased with the contract we'd used to secure the business against it, either, but then their lawyers should have been more thorough first time, I suppose."

"And you and Mr McCoull still lived in this house?"

"We did, yes. Steven managed to re-secure the mortgage once he'd got on his feet again. That allowed them to accelerate getting the discharge."

"And you co-owned the property?"

"I did, yes. Once we'd unpicked the legalities, we managed to buy the house back by paying off the Revenue. Of course, when Steven and I divorced, he paid me."

"And this shareholding in JG Investments?"

"Aye, well. That was part of the settlement." Evelyn took a sip of white wine, leaving a red mark on the rim.

"Donald Ingram mentioned a Richard."

"Richard Airth." Evelyn nodded. "He was Steven's business partner. He was going to sell his house to prop up the company."