Windchill (8 page)

"You still a DI?"

"Mind your own fuckin' business."

"Right." Cullen stepped away from him, craning his neck to see where Barbara had got to with his roll. He could smell the bacon frying.

Bain nudged his shoulder. "You not going to thank me, then?"

Cullen frowned at him. "What for?"

"For saving your fuckin' life, Sundance!"

"That." Cullen sighed. "Cheers."

"Fuck's sake. I was in a fuckin' coma for three days cos of that and I've been signed off for over eight months! If that's all the thanks I get, I might as well have not bothered."

"Right. Aye. Cheers."

Bain shook his head. "You're something else, Sundance. You really are."

"Look, I appreciate it, don't get me wrong. It's just..." Cullen shrugged. "I don't know. It's good to see you. I'm glad you pulled through."

"At least somebody is."

"There you go, precious." Barbara tossed Cullen's roll on the counter, her eyes bulging as she spotted Bain. "I thought I'd banned you from here?"

"Aye, well you're welcome to try chucking me out." Bain handed her exact change for his sandwich before patting Cullen on the arm. "I need to get back through to civilisation, all right? Keep in touch, you grumpy sod."

"Will do." Cullen watched him retreat to the exit, a ghost from his past he didn't need to see again.

Chapter 15

"Here you are." Cullen stood in the doorway to the CCTV suite. "It stinks of Pot Noodle in here."

"Yeah, I got hungry." Buxton paused the tape. "Found a chicken and mushroom one in the corner. Only a month out of date."

"You're a brave man." Cullen sat next to him, the chair crunching with effort. "What have you been up to?"

"Been through the CCTV from the Living Room and I checked it out with these Roger and Tim geezers. The story stacks up - McCoull did just hurry out of the place. Neither of them know why."

"Seems really strange. Did you see a taxi?"

"Sort of." Buxton held up a still, a grainy shot of the bar's front door as a couple in their forties entered the building, a black blur in the background moving off. "You can just make out a taxi."

"Bugger. What about the person he was with?"

"Nope. Nothing outside the bar."

"Can you get onto-"

"Already have, mate. Phoned the CCTV numpties on the Royal Mile just now. No ETA."

"You say numpty like a true native." Cullen picked up the still and examined it. Nothing conclusive, certainly nothing that tightened the timeline around McCoull. He set it down again and sniffed. "The bar manager said there were seven in the group, right?"

"Yeah. Got names of the other three and passed them to Rarity."

"Good." Cullen slumped down in a chair. "What else have you been doing?"

"Watch this." Buxton pressed play on the video app on the screen. "This is footage I did get from the CCTV control team on the Royal Mile. The numpties can do something."

Cullen frowned at the monitor - a series of shots cut across various stretches of motorway, the same BMW in each. "This is Young's car, right?"

"Yeah. Joined the A720 at Juniper Green then onto the M8 at Hermiston Gait as you'd expect. Off the M9 at Linlithgow."

"This is just snapshots, though. How do we know he was in it all the way?"

"The timing for one. It tallies with how long it takes to get up there. While I don't absolutely know he was in the car on the way there, it's pretty tight. Geezer drives slow."

Cullen grinned. "Have you been onto his phone company?"

"I haven't yet. Want me to give Tommy Smith a call?"

"Aye."

"Will do." Buxton made a note.
 

"What about on the way back?"

"We've got this." Buxton opened another video file and hit play.

The screen filled with a petrol forecourt, the BP logo visible. A couple of hatchbacks jerked across the tarmac, pulling up by the pumps, drivers getting out to fill up, one of them struggling as he pulled the nozzle over his Audi's roof to reach the fuel cap.

Buxton tapped the screen. "The automatic number plate stuff said he came off the M9 at Newbridge on the way back and took the A8 to the airport where he doubled back so he could stop at the BP." He raised a hand. "Before you ask, I checked with them. He bought just over sixty quid's worth of diesel, two litres of milk and a bag of biltong."

"What the hell's biltong?"

"Dried beef. Spicy. It's South African, I think. Like beef jerky."

"Whatever." Cullen burped, his bacon roll already starting to repeat on him. "So this shows Young wasn't in Juniper Green when the blaze started, right?"

"The call was made at ten p.m. This was half past. I followed his movements at that petrol station, he just goes in and out. No swapping cars, nothing like that. The car didn't leave the motorway till Newbridge, so it doesn't look like he swapped beforehand either."

"So it's him, right?"

"Yeah. I'll get the mobile records to back it up."

"Fine." Cullen got to his feet. "Come on, let's go tell Crystal."

"Been looking forward to that. Not." Buxton led out, locking the door behind them before setting off for the stairs. "Where have you been anyway?"

"Crystal toasted my nuts at my appraisal." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "Then I bumped into someone."

"Bain, right?"

"Aye."

"Right. He popped into the CCTV room. Gave me the fright of my life, mate. I heard he died."

"Rumours of his death were greatly exaggerated, sadly."

Buxton shook his head as they walked. "What did he want?"

"The usual." Cullen started up the stairs. "Saving my life, all that shit."

"You shouldn't be too much of a wanker about that. My jaw still clicks when I eat because of the fucker we were after."

"Maybe you're right." Cullen opened the meeting room door.

Methven was putting his coat on, phone to ear, scowling as he waved to them. "Bye, dear. Yes, I'll see what I can get at this hour." He glowered at them. "What?"

"Simon's closed off Young's alibi."

Methven flared his nostrils. "I'm very pleased for you."

"So, do you mind if we leave?"

"I don't particularly care. I'm heading home after I speak to Jim Turnbull. I'll see you both on Boxing Day." Methven dashed off, leaving the door stuck open.

"Thank God for that." Cullen slumped against the table, watching the DI jog across the office. "Right, then, where we headed?"

"Doubt Tigerlily will let you back in."

"No." Cullen clenched his jaw. "The Elm?"

"It's pretty much the only boozer that'll not be really busy tonight."

"Good. I'll text Sharon."

Chapter 16

Cullen sat at the window table, watching the pedestrians battle against the wind and the rain, just as they'd done. He took a gulp of lager and gasped. "Fuck me, that feels better."

"I'll pass on the kind offer, if it's all the same." Buxton sat next to him, clenching a bottle of Peroni. "Glad to be out of there for a few days."

"That's what you think."

"What?"

"Methven's dragging us both in tomorrow."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Buxton grimaced as he took a pull on his lager, the fizz rising up in the bottle. "My mate's invited me round to his place tomorrow. His bird's cooking for all their friends. I'll be popular."

"Look, we're going to have to play it by ear. He's put me in charge so I ca-"

"He's put you in charge?" Buxton laughed, the bottle poised in front of his lips. "Seriously?"

"Aye. So I can make sure we get out sharpish."

"That's cool, I suppose." Buxton took another drink of lager.

"He's got me with the carrot and the stick this time." Cullen took a sip, eyes tracking a ned as he staggered up the Walk, hoodie pulled up. He sighed, watching a black cab pull up outside the pub, wipers on full, a crowd of tarted-up young men getting out. "I just have to keep him sweet."

"Tell me you weren't going on about getting a DS gig then?"

Cullen nodded. "That's the carrot he's got me with."

"Anything specific?"

"Never is with him."

Buxton finished his bottle. "Reckon Sharon'll be pissed off at you being in?"

"Maybe. We were just having Christmas to ourselves. She'll be wanting to watch
The Wire
box set I'm giving her."

"Buying a copper a police TV series. Classy."

"She loves it." Cullen shrugged and took another drink, almost down to the bottom. "My folks are with Michelle and Sharon's are with her sister in East Linton. It was going to be absolute bliss." He tapped Buxton's bottle. "Another?"

"Aye."

Cullen walked over to the bar and dumped the empties on the counter.

The barman looked up from his newspaper. "Same again?"

"Aye." He spotted a few familiar faces playing pool in the back room. Best avoid them. He checked his phone, still no reply from Sharon.

The front door opened, a gust of wind sucking the heat out of the pub. He paid for the drinks and took them back to the table. "Here you go."

"Cheers." Buxton took a slug of beer. "You definitely coming to my birthday next month, Scott?"

That was when he and Sharon... Last year. Becky. Cullen swallowed hard. "When is it again?"

"My birthday's the thirtieth of January, but we're going down on the first. That's a Saturday. Will get pretty messy."

"It's just a pub night, right?"

"Fuck's sake, mate. It's down in Newcastle. My mate's wangled tickets for the Tyne-Wear derby, man."

"I forgot."

"Listen, I need to pay the accommodation or cancel it. You said you were definitely coming."

"Aye, I'll be there."

"Not Sharon?"

"Doubt she'll come to a boys' weekend at the football." Cullen took a drink.

Buxton finished his bottle and set it down. "I need to move onto pints. You want a top up?"

"No, I'm good."

"Back in a sec." Buxton went over to the bar.

Cullen watched the stream of traffic heading up and down Leith Walk, letting it blur as his eyes lost focus. He took another sip, starting to feel woozy. Pissing in a sink in the ladies. A new low for him. Why was he doing it?

Oh, he knew all right.

Buxton set a pint down on the table and chucked a bag of Kettle Chips across to Cullen. "There's your bird."

Cullen focused on the front door, seeing Sharon shaking off her umbrella. She gave the universal signal for 'pint'. He held up his full pint and shook his head.

Angela waddled over, settling on the seat next to Buxton. "Evening, gents. Sharon caught me in the meeting room. Don't mind if I crash your party?"

Cullen smiled. "By all means. Thought you'd have been away back to your love nest in Garleton ahead of a busy Christmas."

"I wish." Angela gripped the edge of the table. "Bill's stuck in a meeting with Turnbull and Cargill. He's going to pick me up when he's finished. Didn't fancy getting the train home and Stuart Murray's already left, so I thought I'd come for a Coke with you lot."

"It's good to catch up without Crystal listening in to everything." Buxton took a gulp of his pint.

"He's doing my head in." Angela scowled back over the road, the police station just visible.

Cullen nodded at her. "Did you finish your homework for Crystal?"

"Aye." Angela lifted up a thick financial report and dropped it to the table. "Their company accounts for the last year on record. 2011/12. Didn't want to leave it lying around."

"Great, now I've got to do something with it." Cullen flicked through, heading straight for the director's remuneration section. "Have you read it?"

"Aye. They show a decent profit. Looks like they took well over a hundred grand out of the company in dividends and salary, plus they each made massive pension contributions."

Cullen took a sip of lager as he scanned down the page. Young took ninety thousand in dividends, McCoull seventy-eight. "Hang on. Says here they're not taking the same amount out of the business."

Angela grabbed the report back. "There's other dividends of twelve grand."

"That doesn't make sense, though." Cullen took a sip. "Neither of them could've taken that without disclosing it."

"You're saying there's a third shareholder?" Buxton was frowning.

"I think so. Hang on." Cullen got out his phone and went into the calculator app, battering the screen. "The way that stacks up, there's a fifty per cent ownership to Young and only forty to McCoull."

"What about the other ten?"

"I don't know."

Angela frowned. "You only have to disclose shareholders above twenty-five per cent, I think."

Cullen focused on Buxton. "I've got a shitty feeling Evelyn McCoull is the other shareholder."

Chapter 17

"Thanks for doing this. I appreciate it." Cullen ended the call and crunched on the mint, savouring the burn. He breathed into his hand and smelled it for alcohol. Clear. "Give us that Lynx, would you?"

"Sure." Buxton tossed the can over.

Cullen caught it and sprayed himself, twice round for good measure. "That was the woman from Companies House Angela's been dealing with. Evelyn does own ten per cent."

Buxton stared down the corridor. "Why the fuck didn't she mention this before?"

"Let's find out. I just need to catch Crystal again."

"Want me to start the interview?"

"Please." Cullen dialled Methven's number again as he watched Buxton enter the room. Nelson and Evelyn sat in conference on the opposite side of the table, the lawyer doing most of the talking.

The call rang through to voicemail. Cullen turned away as he started speaking. "Sir, it's Cullen. We've got a lead on the McCoull case. Give me a call back, please." He pocketed the phone, popped another mint in his mouth and entered the room, sitting next to Buxton, gesturing for him to lead.

Buxton nodded. "Mrs McCoull, we've discov-"

"Why is my client still here?" Nelson pushed his glasses back up his face.

Cullen tapped at his watch. "Mr Nelson, we've got until ten o'clock until we have to release your client from detention."

"She's not done anything."