Dead in the Water: When Cullen met Bain (Cullen and Bain Scottish Crime Thrillers Book 5)

by Ed James

  Falconer was a bloody pulp. Cuts above both eyes, blood running down his cheeks. His mouth was like something from the butcher. ‘Can’t make anyone do anything.’ His eyes were awake, alert. He reached to the side and—

  ‘Knife!’ Cullen pulled Hunter towards the wall and the knife cut through the air.

  Missed.

  Falconer was on his feet now, still holding the knife. He lashed out at Hunter, making Hunter skip out of the way.

  And straight into Cullen, pushing him back. Cullen bounced off a boarded-up window and stumbled forward towards the ledge, and stepped right over.

  The dark sky spun around and Cullen hit something hard, with a dark thud. A car alarm blasted out.

  Cullen couldn’t move. Every bit of his body felt like it’d been through a mincer.

  ‘You little shite!’ Above him, Hunter had Falconer in his arms, turned upside down. Looked like he was going to throw him.

  ‘Craig! No!’ But Cullen’s cry was a feeble squeak.

  And Hunter didn’t pay any attention.

  Falconer sailed through the air, heading right for Cullen.

  Cullen tried to move as much as he could, but he was a broken mess. Falconer landed on his hip. Cullen screamed, but tried to grab hold of him. Falconer bounced off onto the tarmac.

  He was going to get away!

  Cullen tried to get up, tried to follow, but he just couldn’t move.

  Hunter was standing above, up on the balcony. Staring at Cullen, but not seeing him. All he had to do was hop down and he could get Falconer.

  But he was gone, lost to some memory.

  Shepherd raced out of the bookies, baton drawn, then stopped dead, his mouth hanging open. ‘Christ!’

  Cullen rolled forward on the car so he was at least sitting. ‘Arrest him!’

  29

  Hunter

  Hunter stared along the row of shops, all technically open but hidden behind a police cordon. The rain had abated a bit and just left an ice-cold wind. Another two ambulances sat there. A flash of lights, a blast of siren and one shot off along Ferry Road. Maybe he should look down again.

  Just in time to see the paramedic dig a needle into Hunter’s arm and pull the thread through. ‘Usually use staples in a case like this, but your skin’s a bit funny.’

  Hunter tried to bite through the sharp, stinging pain. ‘Funny?’

  ‘Aye, not quite sticking together. Like leather. Has your skin been tanned?’

  ‘Not since Iraq.’

  The paramedic laughed, then snapped off the thread and tied it off. ‘Anyway, that’s you.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Aye, you’ll need to go to your GP in five days.’ He patted Hunter’s arm. ‘And watch what you’re doing around broken glass. Has a tendency to slice open your arms.’ He stared deep into Hunter’s eyes. ‘And you should get a blood test.’

  ‘A test?’

  ‘HIV, hepatitis, the full spectrum.’ He thumbed over at the other ambulance. ‘From what I gather, the lad you were wrestling with up there, he’s a dealer. Heroin. If I was you, I’d assume he uses his product and I’d assume he isn’t very discriminatory about who he shares needles with. Get the test, know the truth. And deal with it.’

  ‘Not my first rodeo.’ Hunter couldn’t look into his eyes so stared up at the ambulance’s roof instead. ‘Not the first time someone’s blood mixed with mine.’ But that was it. He couldn’t share any more.

  ‘Must be tough, but get the test and you’ll be fine. That girlfriend of yours will be okay with it.’

  ‘What girlfriend?’

  ‘Wee Yvonne.’

  Hunter clamped his eyes shut. ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

  He frowned. ‘Saw her just yesterday and she—’

  ‘We split up last night.’

  ‘Oh, sorry to hear that.’ He stepped back. ‘Right, well. You’re good to go, Craig. Be careful out there.’

  ‘Will do. Cheers.’ Hunter grabbed his coat and stepped out into the morning air, just as the rain hit again, coming down like prison bars. It caressed him like a lover, that dirty cold against his cheeks, running its hands through his hair.

  He looked over at the row of shops. Forensics were up on the roof, working away inside too. God knows what they were going to find.

  But at least it wasn’t Falconer’s dead body. No, his live one was heading to the infirmary.

  And Hunter had almost killed him.

  Something had snapped in him. He’d tried to murder him. Thrown him off the roof, head first.

  And there was a huge part of him that wished he’d succeeded.

  Not least as repayment for what that little worm did to Angus. Happened when Hunter was abroad, fighting the good fight. Falconer and his mates, bullying the local weirdo. Not knowing the traumas Angus had endured, the abuse. And Hunter wasn’t around to protect him.

  Still, Falconer was going to prison for a good stretch. Once they started digging, they might pin those two murders on him, the ones Chantal couldn’t.

  Either way, Kenny Falconer wasn’t going to be anybody’s problem for a very long time.

  ‘Craig.’

  Hunter swung around.

  Shepherd was huddling under an Alba Bank golf brolly. ‘You okay?’

  Hunter held out his arm, but his bandage was hidden by his jacket. ‘Got off pretty lightly.’

  ‘Saw the other guy. Saw what you did to him.’ Shepherd stomped over to Hunter, his lips smacking as he chewed gum. Hunter could taste his peppermint in the damp air. ‘Stupid, stupid bastard.’ He waved a hand at the spot the other ambulance had been in. ‘What were you thinking, battering him like that?’

  ‘Trust me, I got the worst of it.’

  ‘Aye? Because you look like you’ve just got out of the sauna or steam room, whereas he looks like a mine’s exploded on him. A six foot four mine.’

  Hunter took a deep breath. ‘Sarge, he pulled a knife on me. Knocked my baton to the ground below… knife versus fists is not usually a winning combination, eh?’

  Shepherd barked out a laugh. ‘Sorry, I forgot that gives you an excuse for trying to kill him.’

  ‘I didn’t try to—’

  ‘Tossing someone off a balcony isn’t trying to kill someone?’

  Hunter held his glare. ‘He slipped.’

  ‘DC Gordon saw it, you daft sod. You threw him.’ Shepherd shook his head. ‘Craig, Ally wants to do you for going over the score here. Okay, so we caught Falconer, but you almost killed him when you arrested him. Any lawyer worth his salt will get this thrown out of court.’

  ‘It wasn’t that way at all.’ Cullen, limping like he was missing one or both testicles. Or had grown a third one. He pointed up at the roof and winced with the effort. ‘I was up there with them, trying to help arrest the suspect. The truth was, Falconer would’ve killed either of us. Maybe both. He was going to slit Craig’s throat. Then Falconer threw me down onto the car.’

  Shepherd looked over at the squad car, the roof crumpled from the impact of two idiots hitting it. ‘So why does DC Gordon think that’s not what happened?’

  Cullen shrugged. ‘Search me, Sarge. But Craig wouldn’t do that.’

  Hunter folded his arms, but the searing burn up his arm stopped him. ‘The way I saw it, Falconer was going for his knife, which he’d spilled. Then he slipped, I tried to grab him and he fell.’

  Shepherd stared hard at Cullen for a few seconds. ‘If you’re lying to me, Scott, I swear to God… So help me, but being back in uniform will be the least of your worries.’

  ‘Clear off, Luke.’ DI Bain was leaning against the side of the ambulance, hand resting on a hip. ‘They’re telling the truth.’

  ‘You saw it?’

  Bain nodded. ‘I was up there with DS McNeill, making sure Becky Crawford was alright.’

  ‘That was in the other room.’

  ‘Aye.’ Bain held his gaze. ‘But I saw it all happen through the window. Exactly like they said. Knifey-knifey, thwa
cky baton, punchy, elbow-y, slippy slippy. Cullen looked like a bit of a clown as he fell, but Falconer pushed him. And I thought the Sundance Kid here was dead. Then he slipped as he was away to stab Hunter.’

  Shepherd stared at his shoes, his fist clenching around his umbrella. He shifted his gaze between them. ‘I don’t believe any of you, but it’s not like I’ve got a choice. This isn’t for me to get to the bottom of. It’s a Professional Standards case. DI Bain, as commanding officer here, it’s going to be on you to defend your actions.’

  Bain shrugged. ‘Nothing to defend, Luke.’

  Shepherd narrowed his eyes at him, then glared at Cullen, giving him a full blast of the ire reserved for Bain.

  Bain jerked into action and stepped over to stand near Cullen. ‘Cullen, are you fit to serve?’

  ‘Slight bruising, but paramedic let me go. So, aye.’

  ‘Okay, well I want you to get the docs to check you out. While you’re waiting, can you and DC Gordon guard Kenny Falconer’s ward? I don’t want him getting out or anyone getting in until myself or DS Shepherd here turn up. Okay?’

  ‘Sure thing, sir.’

  A finger almost touched Cullen’s nose. ‘Just keep an eye on Kenny while he’s treated, okay?’ Bain waited for a nod then focused on Hunter. ‘Meanwhile, Craig, I’m not letting you out of my sight. You and me are going to interview Becky Crawford.’ He leaned in to whisper. ‘Just try not to kill anyone else, aye?’

  30

  Bain

  Not sure if I should’ve put up more of a fight back there in the pissing rain, but sometimes you’ve got to keep your powder dry. Unlike my clothes. Christ, it stinks of wet dog in here, probably from laughing boy Hunter.

  Did I do the right thing? Told a porkie pie the size of Alaska and for what? To protect those two fannies. Cullen and Hunter

  Of course I didn’t see anything, I was inside and helping that wee Elvis fud tuck into Snickers. Fuckin’ starving this morning. No haggis roll, just a can of WakeyWakey and tearing into that daft sod Ricky, then over here. Stomach’s rumbling something rotten — told Elvis those bars were out of date. No doubt repeat on me all day.

  Still. Here we are, fresh from saving the damsel in distress. That wee lassie. Becky Crawford. Fringe so low it shouldn’t be possible to see through it. Not that she’s looking at us. Her chair’s pushed back and she’s focused on the floor, like she dropped her keys there.

  Glad Hunter is here, because I’m not exactly paying attention.

  Who does that fanny Shepherd think he is? Telling me what to do? Suppose it’s his boss’s case and the pair of them dropped a sufficiently big bollock that it required me and Butch to come on and pick it up.

  Christ, I love that nickname. That’s got legs, I tell you.

  ‘Becky.’ Hunter leans forward, not that she’s looking at him. ‘You want to talk to me. Really, you do.’

  She shakes her head. No lawyer, but she’s been schooled by someone, and someone good.

  ‘See, Becky, you were supposed to be in court to testify. A lot of people would understand why it’s hard to do that. Facing the man who raped you. Must be close to impossible. But you’d been really strong, Becky. You’d assured us you would stand up there and tell the truth. You knew it wasn’t just for yourself, but for the other victims of your attacker.’

  More head shaking.

  Hunter runs a chunky finger down the length of the dressing on his arm. ‘When we caught Kenny, I got my arm sliced open.’ He’s omitting the fact that he did that by clambering through a broken window, not by Falconer’s fair hand, but hey ho. I saw the wound and it looked ripe. Amazing what they can do, eh? ‘Thing I don’t get, Becky, is why run to Kenny?’

  She looks up at him now, eyes wide.

  ‘Why go to him, Becky?’

  ‘He owns the shop where I work.’

  ‘Right. Sure. You work in Boab’s Books?’

  ‘Morning shift, aye.’ She nibbles at her lips. ‘Got a pub job at night. Had to get someone to cover my shift yesterday cos I was in court.’

  ‘Kenny use that place for money laundering?’

  ‘What? No!’

  ‘Sure about that?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure. Why would you think that?’

  ‘Stands to reason. Selling second-hand books is a cash business. Makes it very easy for people like Kenny to run their ill-gotten gains through the till. Lets them turn very dirty money into nice clean cash.’

  She shrugs and maybe the lassie actually doesn’t have a scoobie about money laundering. ‘It’s just a bookshop.’

  ‘Aye. Suspect if we look into the books of the place, it’ll—’

  ‘The books of a bookshop?’

  ‘You know what I mean! The accounts. The books. Not the novels. I suspect it’s a very lucrative business. Probably sell more than Waterstones on George Street.’

  ‘Look, I don’t know anything about that.’ And it’s a long shot. Another thing we could’ve added to the pile of charges against Kenny Falconer. Keep that wee bastard locked up as long as we can.

  ‘But you will be able to answer questions on the boo— accounts, right? I mean, if you work there every morning then you’ll put a lot of cash through the till.’

  Another shrug. ‘Whatever.’

  And Hunter was doing so well, wasn’t he? Almost had me believing in him! Christ.

  Fuck it.

  I lean forward, clunking my elbows hard off the table. Makes her look over at us. Makes me wince. That was a bit too hard, likes. ‘Why didn’t you show up for court, Becky?’

  ‘Couldn’t do it.’

  ‘Right. Because Alexander Drake threatened you, right?’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘No, I bet. But somebody did. Eh?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, Becky. You were raped. That must’ve been horrific. Then to have the bravery to speak to my colleagues, to go through all the tests and the statements. And to agree to stand up in court and testify. Takes a lot of guts. And you had it. But you didn’t show up. Meaning someone got to you, eh?’

  But she’s keeping shtum. Clever girl. See what I mean about whoever’s schooling her being good?

  ‘Thing is, when you didn’t show, they brought me in to find you. Okay? I’m not like a bounty hunter or anything, but I do my job pretty well. Trouble is, Mr Drake had a second passport. When he walked out of court on bail, he buggered off to Newcastle. Got on a flight to South America via Amsterdam. He’s escaped. He won’t face justice for what he did to you.’

  The tension in her shoulders slipped away.

  ‘Becky, he’s in Argentina. No extradition. Clever guy. All he had to do was get his mates to put the fear of death into you, then wait for you to not show up. And he could bugger off on bail. But maybe they kidnapped you?’

  She won’t look at us.

  ‘A case like that, they can be hard when it’s just he said, she said. But we know Drake raped you, right? It wasn’t just a case of your word against his. We had your statement backed up by forensics. Juries love forensics. It’s science. It’s facts. It’s truth. But we needed both that lovely evidence and your testimony. Drake was on trial, going down for five years, plus whatever else we can get to stick to him. And anything from whatever he spills on the drugs case we’ve got against him. But your absence threw it all into chaos. Let him escape the country. Escape justice.’

  Still nothing from her. Christ, this is like interviewing a rock.

  Wait. Her fingers are twitching.

  There we fuckin’ go.

  ‘Thing is, Becky, you were in Kenny’s building, weren’t you? Keep coming back to it, but what were you doing there?’

  Becky looks up, first at me, then at Hunter, then back at me. She’s blinking, hard, then fast, those eyelashes like wee butterflies. Tears flood her cheeks, dragging her stale mascara down her face.

  ‘Why, Becky? Why did you go there? Did he take you there?’

  ‘I didn’t go there by choice.’ She digs th
e heels of her palms into her eye sockets. ‘I was on the phone to DS Shepherd. On my way to the bus stop. Had to take two buses to get to court. But they got me.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘Kenny and this… This arsehole who works for him. Doug or Dean or Davie or something. They picked me up on the street. I had no choice. Then they drove me to that place. Kept me there overnight.’ She swallows hard. ‘All they gave me to eat were these dodgy Snickers bars.’

  Christ. ‘Dodgy, how?’

  She shrugs. ‘But when I said I was hungry, Kenny put the box next to me. And I was so hungry.’

  ‘Becky, why are they dodgy?’

  ‘I don’t know. They’re fakes from South America, I think. The milk in them is dodgy.’

  ‘Dodgy how?’

  ‘Laced with drugs.’

  Oh, fuckin’ hell. That’s another lost afternoon to the toilet.

  ‘Supposed to be a new drug on the street but it never took off.’

  Fuck sake. I ate one! I’ll be high as a fuckin’ kite!

  She hauls her hair back, pulling the bangs from out of her eyes. ‘You want the truth? Kenny… He…’ She swallows hard, then looks around the room at a collection of blokes. ‘He sexually assaulted me.’

  I sit back in my seat and fold my arms. Well, well, well. Didn’t expect that. ‘Kenny? But we—’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say.’ She nods, lips pursed together. ‘I was at work in the shop, right? Kenny came in, shut the door and took me upstairs.’

  And that matches the tale she’d told us. Trouble is, the names had been changed to protect the guilty. ‘Becky, we did a rape kit on you. The DNA matched Drake’s.’

  She shrugs.

  ‘Becky, we’ve got evidence against Drake. His semen. His blood. He raped you. You were going to testify against him. Not Kenny.’

  ‘Kenny raped me too.’ She grits her teeth so hard it looks like her jaw might break. ‘After Kenny raped me. Wore a condom. He got me to have a shower. Then he made Drake do it too.’

  ‘Made him?’

  ‘At knifepoint.’

  ‘He raped you when Kenny had a knife to his neck?’