Windchill (31 page)

Angela nudged the door shut behind her before waddling over to a seat at the far end of the table. "Who's Mr Jones?"

"Billy's surname's Jones. I texted you."

Angela pointed at a mobile next to a pile of papers on the table. "Sorry, my phone's been in here."

"So what have you been doing?"

"What you asked, sir - background checks on Lyle, Keogh, Falconer and Vardy."

"Anything?"

"Maybe." Angela held up a wad of paper. "I've found recurring payments from both of Vardy and Falconer's bank accounts for a grand each."

"Who to?"

"Needs a bit more digging, sir. I thought you'd be pleased."

"I am. Can you start looking for Billy Jones, please?"

"Will do."

Methven focused on Cullen. "Constable, can I ask you to investigate these transactions for me?"

Cullen rubbed his face - hardly DS duties. "Sure."

Chapter 82

Cullen sat at his desk, trying to tune out the noise from the office around him. He stared at the transactions, the numbers blurring before his eyes.

Sergeant duties did not equal checking bank statements.

Start again.

Cullen put the stacks of paper in front of him - Vardy on the left, Falconer on the right. He marked each of the interesting transactions with an asterisk - the narrative for each transaction read 'D/D WINDCHILL LTD' - the money coming out on the second of each month and both paying exactly one thousand pounds a month.

Were the payments made to the same account? He checked the account number field - they matched.

What the hell was Windchill? He googled it - a few air conditioning companies down south called Windchill Factor or derivatives of it. Nothing that looked like it would accept a grand a month from two dodgy Edinburgh criminals.

Look elsewhere.

He reached for the pile of paper at the back of his desk - Keogh's transactions - and flicked through until he found the most recent page.

Bingo - payment for two grand every month on the twentieth. 'BAC WINDCHILL LTD'.

BAC meant a payment in.

He checked Keogh's balance - just over thirty-six quid overdrawn. Naughty boy. Flicking through the records, Cullen noticed the payments had been made for a couple of years at least. He picked up his phone and dialled. "Angela? It's Scott. Can you get me prints of the older transactions?"

"I'm not sure. I'll see what I can do."

"Cheers."
 

He picked up the final set of paper, Lyle's transactions. Nothing involved Windchill. No transactions above one hundred quid, except for cash withdrawals which would tally with his rent, the cash in hand deal with Vardy.

So Lyle was clear. What next?

He got to his feet and made for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, thinking as he climbed.

Focus - Falconer and Vardy paid a grand a month to a company Keogh received two from. Could only mean one thing.

He stormed across the Forensic Investigation floor, the curtains drawn and the place receiving the bulk of the exhaust from the canteen across the stairwell. He rapped on a desk at the back.

"Oh, it's you." Charlie Kidd slumped back in his chair, one hand tossing his ponytail, the other rubbing the freshly shaved hair round the sides.

Cullen perched on the edge of his desk. "That's no way to greet an old buddy."

"Aye, right. Always get my arse battered after I help you."

"Charming." Cullen dumped the pages on the only empty space, between an empty Peperami Hot and a half-full bottle of Lucozade Sport. "You've been working with DC Caldwell on this, right?"

Kidd picked up the sheets and checked them before nodding. "Aye. Just got the extracts for her, mind. Chasing a paper trail beneath you these days?"

"Wish it was." Cullen pointed to one of his asterisks. "Can you dig into these transactions for me?"

"Can you not do it?"

"We don't have the access downstairs. It's your job, unfortunately."

"Right." Kidd switched a few windows on his screen, bringing up a black and white page. He hovered the mouse over a line. "This one here, right?"

"Aye."

Kidd clicked and it filled with data. "Looks like the account belongs to a limited company called Windchill."

"That's what the transaction said, right?" Cullen drummed his fingers on the desk. "What sort of business is that?"

"Not sure. Let me check." Kidd selected a chunk of text and pasted it into another window. The cursor changed to a fish growing legs, turning into a lizard then reverting.

Cullen tapped the screen. "I like that."

"Good, eh? Don't tell anyone, I'll get pelters for it."

"Your secret's safe with me."

Kidd switched to another data view, this time in classic Windows grey. He selected a row, turning the text white and the background blue. "This might help you."

"What is it?"

"It's the company ID number. You could give Companies House a call."

"I could?"

Kidd raised his hands. "Aye, that's my bit done."

"Seriously? What about getting me a list of people who've received money from them? Or paid them?"

"Well... Okay. Fine."

Chapter 83

"Cheers, Charlie." Cullen ended the call as he pushed into the meeting room.

Methven was jabbing hard at the whiteboard. "Where the sodding hell is Billy Jones?"

Cullen shut the door behind him, Caldwell and Buxton looking up. "You not found him yet?"

"No, Constable, we haven't."

"Well, I think I have." Cullen held up a sheet of paper.

Methven snatched it from him. "What the sodding hell is this?"

"That is a list of all the payments received by Windchill, the company Vardy and Falconer have been paying. That's over a hundred and fifty payments received every month." Cullen handed him another sheet, taken with as much aggression. "This is the twenty who are paid. Darren Keogh is on there, as is Billy Jones."

"Who are Windchill when they're at home?"

"I don't know, sir. Companies House aren't returning my calls yet. I can get onto them after this. Think we've got a liaison in the City of London police."

"You say that like I might want you to get onto something else."

Cullen handed him another sheet of paper. "Kidd did manage to find a registered address for the company. It's the same address as Nelson and Parker."

Methven grabbed the sheet. "What, Dean Vardy's lawyer?"

"And Falconer's, remember. Among others. We checked - Windchill's company address is the same unit."

"So it's them?"

"Well, we don't know yet. That's why we need to speak to Companies House."

Methven scowled at Angela. "DC Caldwell, can you work with Charlie Kidd on this?"

"Will do, sir."

Methven cleared the bottom left corner of the whiteboard. "Tell me about this business."

"Well, they've received payments from two suspects in our case and paid the idiot who's provided an alibi to both of them."

"This is looking sodding dodgy."

"Damn right. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking if they've half a brain cell between them they'll have shredded everything." Methven shook his head at the whiteboard as he scribbled. "Get out there, Constable. Bring the pair of them in here. Let's see what they've got to say for themselves."

"We'll need support."

"Get some officers from the West End. I'll get a warrant arranged."

Chapter 84

Cullen pulled in on Torphichen Street, just around the corner from the West End police station. He looked across the road at Nelson and Parker's office, the gleaming tower block incongruous with the rest of central Edinburgh. "Cheeky buggers have been doing it right under our noses."

Buxton opened his door and got out, the street crowded with pedestrians in business suits, snuggling under thick winter jackets and carrying briefcases. "What exactly have they been doing, though?"

"Good point. I'm not sure." Cullen locked the pool car and set off across the street, stopping outside the office block and leaning against a street light to wait for support. His phone rang - Caldwell.

"Hey, Scott. Just got an inch forward with Companies House."

"Go on."

"Michael Nelson and Neil Parker are both listed as directors of Windchill."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope."

"Tell Crystal."

"Told him a few minutes ago. You've not been answering your phone."

"I've been driving."

"Okay. Look, I'd better go."

"Cheers." Cullen hung up and checked his mobile - there was a text from Methven.
Approved; West End officers have it.
"Looks like Crystal's somehow got the search warrant approved."

"How the hell has he swung that?"

Cullen tapped his nose. "Not what you know, Simon."

"Ha, yeah." Buxton looked up and down the street. "Shall we?"

"We're waiting on back-up, remember. I don't want anyone slipping through here."

"Acting like the big boy now, aren't you?"

"Maybe I've just had too many idiots run from me over the years." Cullen clocked a team of uniform trotting up the lane from the station.

"Here we go." Buxton started off.

Cullen waved at the oncoming officers, one of them lugging the Enforcer battering ram. "As much as I think he's a wanker, Methven's pulled out all the stops here."

Buxton nodded. "Getting access to the Torphichen Place big key isn't bad, is it?"

"I love that name." Cullen smirked. "Just hope we don't have to use it." He looked around the squad of six officers, not recognising any. Cleared his throat. "Okay, I want two of you to cover the front door and the rest to accompany us inside. Two take the downstairs, covering the lifts, stairs and rear exits. The other two accompany myself and ADC Buxton up. Okay?"

General agreement. One of them handed Cullen a print of the search warrant.

"Good. Come on." Cullen jogged to the building, accidentally pushing the revolving door and having to wait till it unjammed. He entered a large atrium area leading into the bowels of the building, filled with people in meetings or drinking coffee while talking on phones. The space was artfully lit, just some coloured lights at the sides giving illumination while relying heavily on daylight. The place stank of harsh cleaning chemicals but there was no sign of cleaning staff.

Cullen headed to the rear, a set of six glass-fronted lifts climbing to the heavens. A wide desk sat in front, a security guard sitting in a chair staring into space. Dark grey uniform, logo of a local security firm; looked very much like ex-services, though a good few years ago.

Cullen got his warrant card out and coughed. "Excuse me?"

The guard jolted forward, eyes wide. "Can I help you, son?"

"We need access to unit four."

"Okay." He peered at Cullen's ID. "That's Nelson and Parker, right?"

"It is, aye."

The guard leaned over the desk, reaching for a phone. "I'll just call up."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I see."

"Is there anyone in?"

"Think so."

"How many?"

"Just a sec." The guard looked down at a screen. "Got thirty-seven employees. Oh hang on - looks like only two of them have swiped in this morning."

"What about either Michael Nelson or Neil Parker?"

"Aye, that's them." The guard pressed a button opening the security gate. "Third floor, on the left."

"Cheers." Cullen walked toward the lifts, gesturing for one of the uniformed officers to stay, another to mark the stairs and the other pair to follow. He waited for the Enforcer to be dumped in the lift before hammering the 3 button and waiting for the doors. "Let's see if they're answering."

"You'll be glad not to have to take the stairs, right?"

"Aye. I really need to get back in shape." As the two uniforms laughed, Cullen looked out of the window. The lift cleared the top of the townhouses opposite, the giant wheel on Princes Street Gardens becoming visible through the glass.

The lift shuddered to a halt, waiting a few seconds before its doors opened into the bright corridor.

"Finally." Cullen got out first, squinting in the half-light at the Nelson and Parker logo and an arrow pointing left. He trotted down the hallway to the dark wooden entrance. He tried the handle. "It's bloody locked."

Buxton glanced back at the two uniforms lugging the Enforcer. "Want to use the big key?"

"Might have to." Cullen hammered on the door. "Got a delivery here for Mr Parker!"

Buxton leaned in close. "What are you playing at?"

Cullen stepped off to the side. "We need to get their computers. If they think it's the police, they'll set them on fire or something."

"Hello?" A voice called out from behind the door. "We're not expecting anything."

"Not my problem, pal. I need you to sign for a package!"

A key turned and the door opened. Neil Parker stuck his head through.

Cullen flashed up his warrant card in one hand, the search warrant in the other. "Mr Parker, we have a warrant to search these premises."

"Shite." Parker tried to push the door shut.

Cullen led with his shoulder, taking a few seconds to prise it out of Parker's grip. He gave another push, the door flying open and knocking the lawyer over.

"Mike! It's the police!"

Cullen glanced at Buxton as he stepped over Parker. "Cuff him!"

Buxton slapped a handcuff around each of Parker's wrists. "Got you!"

"You can't do this!"

"Mr Parker, we've a warrant to obtain any and all documentation pertaining to Windchill."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

Cullen stared at the uniformed officers. "One of you stay with him, the other come with me." He marched off, heading for the open door behind the vacant reception desk.

He entered a wide corridor, eyes blinking in the strong light. The rooms leading off were in darkness, two offices at the far end were lit up. "Come on."

Buxton followed him down the corridor, snapping out his baton. "These geezers are definitely up to something dodgy."

"Tell me about it." Cullen crept up and looked in the first office. Empty. He held up a hand to halt the other two and sneaked a view into the second. Nelson sat at a desk, fingers hammering on a laptop.