Windchill (DC Scott Cullen Crime Series Book 6)

by Ed James

  "Wonder if they've cleaned the sink yet."

  "Drop it."

  Smirking, Buxton flashed his warrant card at the bouncers on the door before entering the bar, shaking his head as they crossed the floor. "Can't believe they've got bouncers on already."

  "They'll need them tonight." Cullen looked around the room, the place staffed by a gang of waiters dressed in black uniforms paired with long white aprons. He made for the bar. One of the staff raised an eyebrow and cupped his ear. Cullen flashed his warrant card. "Can we speak to the manager?"

  "I'll just get him." He wandered to the back, tapping a burly man on the shoulder and speaking in his ear.

  Buxton looked Cullen up and down. "Not getting any flashbacks, are you?"

  "Trying to avoid thinking, full stop."

  The bar manager came over, dressed in black. His eyebrows were pockmarked by piercings but he'd left the rings out. "Paul Gellatly. Can I help?"

  "We need to speak to you about some people who were drinking in here last night."

  "What sort of people?"

  "It's relating to a murder inquiry, sir."

  "Of course. I see." Gellatly took a deep breath before smiling. "Just follow me." He led them through the bar into the extension, finding a free table in the window. "Please, have a seat."

  Cullen sat on a long bench and got out his notebook. "We're looking to identify a group of men who were in here last night."

  Gellatly sat opposite them on an armchair, fingers rubbing his palms. "Got anything that'll help narrow that down?"

  Cullen grinned. "They were from Juniper Green rugby club."

  "Oh. Them." Gellatly rolled his eyes. "Aye, they were in. Had a table booking."

  "Do you know who seated them?"

  "I do, aye. Me. We were short-staffed last night so I had to earn my corn on the floor."

  "Can you describe them?"

  "They were pretty rowdy." Gellatly tapped the table. "Sat right here, in fact."

  "How many people are we talking?"

  "I think there were seven of them, maybe eight? I can check the till roll if that would help?"

  "It would." Cullen made a note, the ink in his pen starting to dry up. "What time did they get here?"

  "Booking was for five, I think. We kicked them out at eleven."

  "You mean you set the bouncers on them?"

  "No, it was closing time." Gellatly laughed. "Looked like they were heading to a club or a lappy. There were a few times I almost set the bouncers on them but they were big lads, you know? To be fair, they weren't causing much mischief. They were just being loud and obnoxious. I wish they'd keep that for the rugby club. They can be worse than squaddies."

  Cullen reached into his pocket to retrieve a photo of McCoull, handing it to Gellatly. "Did you see this man?"

  Gellatly took one look at it and nodded. "Aye. I recognise the boy all right."

  Cullen retrieved the photo. "So he was with them?"

  "Definitely."

  "Did you see him leave?"

  Gellatly frowned. "Not sure."

  "Was it with the others?"

  "Can't remember. They left after about the fifteenth rendition of the dirty version of Alouette." Gellatly laughed. "The bigger the cu- Sorry."

  Cullen showed the photo again. "This man definitely left with the others?"

  "Think so, aye."

  "Well, this is Steven McCoull. He was found dead later on last night."

  Gellatly swallowed. "I see."

  "We have statements placing him in Juniper Green at somewhere between eight and nine."

  Gellatly snatched the photo back. "Now you mention it... It was pretty weird."

  "What was?"

  "Well, I was collecting glasses from this table and taking an order. They were being a right bloody nightmare." Gellatly shook his head. "Anyway, your boy there must've seen something cos he just got up and left."

  "How do you mean?"

  "He chucked a twenty on the table and just walked out of the bar."

  "Any idea why?"

  "None, sorry. His mates thought he was off to the gents' but they didn't notice he'd taken his coat with him." Gellatly let out a breath before rubbing his thinning hair and staring out of the window on the darkening George Street. "Actually, the boy had been looking out of the window for a bit."

  "At what?"

  "Don't know. Seemed distracted by something."

  "Any idea what?"

  "No, sorry."

  "Girls walking past on the street?"

  "Don't think so. It's like that thousand yard stare, you know? Like he was thinking hard about something."

  "Right. Was he singing Alouette with the others?"

  "Up to a point, aye. Then he just didn't. I remember it now. When I took their previous order, he was staring out the window. When I came back twenty minutes later for the next one, he was still at it."

  "What time was this?"

  "Be about ten past, quarter past eight, maybe?" Gellatly shrugged. "Could've been earlier, I suppose."

  "Did you see what he did on the street?"

  "Not really. Well, he might've got in a taxi, I suppose. I went back through to the bar, saw one sweeping past not long after he left and I don't recall seeing him out on the street."

  "Do you have CCTV recording here?"

  "Like you wouldn't believe." Gellatly grinned. "I'll get them sent down to you. Where you pair based?"

  "Leith Walk station. Cheers." Cullen got to his feet, business card out. "Call me if anything comes up, okay?"

  Chapter 12

  Methven stood at the whiteboard, arms folded and eyes shut, scowling as Cullen and Buxton sat. "Thanks for joining us."

  Cullen shrugged. "Sorry, sir."

  Methven snorted. "First things first. The post mortem was par for the course - other than the suspicious items which resulted in us being called out in the first place, there was nothing else to report."

  Buxton frowned. "Did they confirm identity?"

  "Mrs McCoull provided that." Methven raised a hand to his cheek, patting down the gauze. "Due to the presence of carbon particles in Mr McCoull's lungs, Deeley is adamant he was alive during the early stages of the fire. Additionally, there's a high level of carbon monoxide in his blood, pointing to the fact he died as a result of the smoke rather than as a direct result of the injuries. That said, he did confirm the wounds Mr McCoull sustained perimortem would have otherwise been fatal."

  "Was petrol poured on him?" Buxton rocked back in his chair.

  "No accelerant was found on the body, Constable." Methven rubbed a line out on the whiteboard pointing to Forensics. "The only useful information Mr Anderson and his team have put forward is confirming the fire wasn't a result of a chip pan or anything so ordinary."

  "So what did cause it?" Rarity tilted her head to the side.

  "The fire service detected signs of an accelerant being used in different locations in the house, both upstairs and downstairs. Four on each floor. Eight in total."

  "What was the accelerant, sir?"

  "Looks like petrol, though more tests are underway as we speak. Fortunately, the swift actions of the fire service prevented the fire getting out of control and preserved much of the crime scene."

  "That's a positive result." Rarity ran her hand through her hair.

  "Quite." Methven narrowed his eyes at Cullen. "How have you two fared?"

  "Not bad." Cullen flicked open his notebook with a flourish. "We spoke to Eric Young. He reckons it's going to be a bit of a nightmare sorting out the company ownership now McCoull's dead."

  "In what way?"

  "His shares will go to his estate, I'd imagine."

  Methven jotted on the whiteboard - Estate??. "Do you think Young is a suspect?"

  "Possibly." Cullen raised his hands in the air. "Young did sleep with McCoull's wife."

  "I think you're reaching here, Constable." Methven switched his gaze to Angela. "What have you found on the business?"

&nb
sp; "Nothing yet. Companies House not getting back to me is the main reason. Well, the only reason."

  "I see." Methven jangled change in his pocket. "Did you do any further digging on Mr McCoull?"

  Angela got out another sheet of paper. "Still waiting on some reports back from HMRC and Companies House again. I've made myself pretty unpopular on Christmas Eve. Shouldn't be too much longer, mind. I've been chasing them every fifteen minutes."

  "Do you expect it back today?"

  "I hope so." Angela nodded. "Didn't sound like they had much else on so they were happy to help, just not particularly quick."

  "You've earned a good couple of days off." Methven beamed at her. "Leave it with DC Cullen when it turns up."

  "Thanks, sir." Angela rolled her eyes, just enough for Cullen to notice.

  Cullen turned to Rarity. "Have the door-to-doors turned anything up?"

  "Just salacious gossip, really." A shrug. "Nothing we don't already know."

  "Did anyone else confirm the story from the neighbour who reported it? A Mr Walker, wasn't it?"

  "What, about him seeing Mr McCoull with someone?" Rarity tapped her pen on the tabletop. "Nothing concrete, I'm afraid. A curtain twitcher across the road saw someone with him, but she's not given us anything like a concrete description."

  "So we still don't have an ID of his companion?"

  "No."

  "Okay." Cullen looked at Methven. "Could it be Young?"

  Methven frowned. "Doesn't he have an alibi?"

  "He does." Cullen raised his shoulders. "He could be lying, though. It's been known to happen."

  "What is the alibi?"

  "Says he was visiting friends in Linlithgow."

  Rarity got out another sheet of paper. "I think we had a statement saying the Young family left home about six o'clock last night."

  "That tallies with his story. Said McCoull dropped some Christmas presents off for his kids."

  Rarity scowled at her own notebook. "I don't have that."

  "Interesting." Cullen checked over the page. "What about coming back from Linlithgow?"

  "Their car turned up later on, as per the other statements."

  "Okay." Methven added another box to the board, Young alibi?. "Let's check it out. Catriona, can you get some of the street team reallocated to checking the CCTV?"

  "Will do."

  Buxton exhaled. "Thank God it's not me."

  "It might be." Rarity winked at him. "Let's just say it's in your best interests to get down to the CCTV suite after this."

  "Bloody hell." Buxton stabbed his pen against his notebook. "Sure thing, sarge. I was already heading down there anyway."

  Methven jotted an action on the board then stared at Cullen. "What else did you two do? You've been gone a while."

  "We spoke to one of the guys McCoull was out drinking with last night. Bloke called Robert Heald. We backed up his statement with a visit to the Living Room afterwards to validate."

  Methven scowled. "You mean you went to the pub?"

  "We didn't drink anything, sir." Cullen ground his teeth. Cheeky bastard. "Anyway, he left halfway through the evening, quite suddenly according to the guy serving them. He reckons McCoull might've seen something out of the window. We need to speak to the other people he was with."

  Buxton raised a hand. "I'll do it."

  "Thanks, Simon." Methven drew a box and labelled it Leaving Bar. "So he just upped and left last night?"

  "That's the exact phrase they used."

  "That certainly sounds odd." Methven made another note. Trigger for leaving? "So he could've met a random guy in the street and invited him home?"

  Cullen frowned. "Are you suggesting this is a gay thing?"

  "I wasn't, no." Methven smoothed down his eyebrows for a few seconds. "I was thinking it was maybe one of his friends he'd just bumped into?"

  "Not that we know." Buxton flipped forward a few pages. "Yeah, found it. He reckons he left on his own."

  "He could've seen someone he knew in the street and invited them back for a few nips of whisky."

  Cullen scowled at him. "Why would anyone do that?"

  "Used to happen a lot, Constable."

  Cullen shrugged. "Must be a generational thing."

  Methven gave him a withering look. "Yes, we all know you're usually not particularly compos mentis by the time you're instructed to head home."

  Cullen clenched his fists under the table. "Look, the guy in the bar said he didn't leave with anyone."

  "I still think it's a possibility he met someone on his way back to Juniper Green." Methven faced the board again, drawing new connections between the boxes. "We know he left the Living Room on his own at the back of eight but was spotted outside his house with someone at quarter to nine."

  "Hang on." Cullen rifled through his notebook. "Alistair Walker said he saw a taxi coming down the hill when he got back around that time."

  "So the taxi driver could've seen whoever he was with?"

  Cullen folded his arms. "Maybe."

  "So what do we know about this companion, Constable?"

  "Nothing, sir. That's where the barman's statement runs out. It's possible McCoull got a cab home but we've got nothing confirmed by any means. He could've picked this person up on George Street, somewhere on the way home or met him in Juniper Green."

  "Buggering hell." Methven slapped the cap of the pen back on. "We need to find the taxi driver and we're not going to get anything out of them today of all days."

  "I'll get someone onto it." Rarity made a note in her pad. "See if we can get something."

  "Thanks, Catriona." Methven tossed the pen onto the meeting room table. "The sodding press release isn't going out till Friday given the holidays. I'll need to speak to Jim Turnbull about this, see if we can expedite matters."

  "Best of luck with that." Cullen shut his notebook, hoping the meeting was over.

  Methven looked at the board for a few seconds. "So, given what we have here, what do we reckon?"

  Cullen thought it through for a few seconds. "I'm thinking it could be Eric Young. He had an affair with McCoull's wife. He'll be able to buy out the other half of the business now, I'd imagine."

  Methven tapped on McCoull on the whiteboard. "Do we know who stands to inherit Mr McCoull's estate?"

  Cullen shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, sir."

  "Can you look into it?"

  "Will do." Cullen leaned back in his chair, tensing himself to stand up. "I take it Evelyn McCoull is still downstairs?"

  "She's not been charged with this yet to the best of my knowledge." Methven patted his gauze. "Why do you ask?"

  "She's not in the clear for her husband's murder."

  "I know that. She's not exactly in the frame, either." Methven fiddled with the tape securing his bandage. "Catriona, can you arrange for someone to interview her again?"

  "I'll see what I can do, sir."

  Methven frowned at Angela. "While we're on the subject, how's your investigation into Mrs McCoull going?"

  Angela picked up another sheet of paper. "Nothing on house ownership, nothing on the life insurance."

  Methven clapped his hands together. "Oh well. Thanks for trying, Constable."

  "Anything else you need from us, sir?" Cullen got to his feet, his dry mouth needing at least a litre of water. "We're supposed to be in the pub."

  Methven looked past him. "ADC Buxton, I want you to head downstairs to the CCTV suite." He switched to Angela. "You can go once the report from HMRC turns up." Then Rarity. "Catriona, I'll let you decide when you want to leave." Finally, Cullen. "I want a private word with you."

  "What about?"

  Methven looked at the other officers before scowling at Cullen. "Regarding your appraisal, Constable."

  Chapter 13

  Cullen sat in Bollocking Corner, looking across the canteen at the darkness outside, white and red lights stationary on Leith Walk. Someone had burnt a pot of filter coffee again. He checked his watch - just after fou
r. Roll on summer or at least a hot island in January.

  "Here we go." Methven sat next to him, accidentally jostling his knee as he pushed a coffee across the table to Cullen. "You look like you could do with one."

  "Cheers." Cullen lifted off the lid to let it cool. He tried to be subtle as he took a sniff; this wasn't part of the burnt lot.

  "We've needed to do a one-to-one for a while now, Constable."

  "I don't see why I can't just do it with DS Rarity."

  "You're fully cognisant of Superintendent Turnbull asking me to make sure your career development sits with me and not Catriona." Methven took a sip of scalding coffee, gasping as he set the cup back down. "Do I need to go and inform him of the fact we haven't had a single one yet?"

  "No, that's fine." Cullen blew on his coffee but didn't take a sip. What a twat. This was as much about Methven's development. "Can we get on with it?"

  "Very well. I appreciate we're in the middle of a case, but I'm not aware of any pressing activities currently requiring your attention, so it's important to round off this year ensuring the paperwork is in order."

  "Shouldn't we be doing this in an office, sir?"

  "If there was one free, Constable, yes."

  "Okay."

  "Excellent. We'll get to the formalities soon, but I want to have a word with you first, if that's okay?"

  "As if I've got a choice."

  Methven's eyebrows sunk down to almost cover his eyes. "Cullen, we took a huge gamble giving you Acting DS duties late last year."

  "And then you busted me back to DC. No need to rub my face in it."

  "What's this about?"

  Cullen folded his arms. "You know I should be a full DS by now."

  "We've been over this. It's up to you to show you're capable of doing it again."

  "You know full well I can do it again. Give me it now and I'll prove it."

  "I remain to be convinced."

  "Why?"

  "Well, while you've got a very strong arrest record, you don't seem to be much of a team player, shall we say."

  "Maybe I need a better team, sir."

  "That's something DCI Cargill and I are actively working on with Jim Turnbull. The calibre of officer we inherited left a lot to be desired." Methven took another sip of coffee. "What I mean, Constable, is I need you to show a lot more maturity on duty."