Dyed in the Wool (22 page)

"No idea."

The barman put the drinks on the bar top, along with the change.

Cullen nodded towards the booth. "Want a seat?"

Katie grinned mischievously as she pounced on the bench.

Cullen sat alongside her rather than opposite. Avoid eye contact. He put the drinks on the table.

"Is that for me?"

"Sure," He pushed one of the drinks over.

She leaned forward, cleavage pushed up by her arms. She put her hands around the glass and raised an eyebrow. "After three, then… one, two, three."

Cullen tipped the drink up, the shots and the Red Bull mixing when they hit his mouth, before slamming the glass down on the table at the same time as Katie. "That was good."

"Yeah. Was that a Jaegerbomb."

"A slag bomb."

She laughed. "Never heard of that before."

"Where are you based, Katie?"

"The Royal Infirmary."

"Right."

"You've not said what you do."

"I'm a police officer." He'd been tempted to lie but fuck it.

"Oh, are you off tomorrow?"

"No. Like I told you earlier, I'm a piss head."

She laughed again. "My round. Jaegerbomb this time?"

"Go for it."

She sashayed to the bar.

Cullen admired the wiggle. Her legs were pretty well toned - must be all the walking she did in the hospital.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Skinky, we need to go."

Rich stood there, face bloody, dabbing at his nose with some toilet paper, his white shirt stained red.

Cullen jerked backwards. "What happened?"

"That Ewan McGregor boy nutted me."

"Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right. Turns out he wasn't gay after all."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me."

"Aye, well, he did fool me."

Katie reappeared, holding two tumblers with shot glasses inside. She smiled at Cullen then stared at Rich, open-mouthed. "Oh my God! What happened?"

"Got head-butted."

"I'm a nurse, I can sort this out." She put the glasses down on the table. "Let me have a look."

Rich let his hand go.

Katie prodded around with his nose, causing him to squeal twice.

Rich motioned his head towards Cullen then Katie then the Jaegerbombs, a frown etched on his forehead.

Cullen looked away.

Katie patted his shoulder. "I don't think there's any lasting damage. You'd better go to the doctor, though. I'd be tempted to recommend A&E but I don't want you to take this hunk away from me."

"This hunk is my flatmate and he's going to take me home." Rich's legs buckled and he had to support himself. "I'm in no fit state."

Katie's eyebrows arched up. "I could come with you."

Rich smiled. "I hope Scott hasn't been leading you on. He's just broken up with his long-term girlfriend and I wouldn't want him giving you any ideas."

She turned to face Cullen. "Is this true?"

Cullen rolled his shoulders. "I wasn't leading you on. I was just talking to you."

"Fucking men." Katie downed her shot. "If you're a policeman then I suggest you arrest the guy who attacked your pal. As for me, I'm going. Nice speaking to you, Scott." She took Cullen's drink with her.

"Bloody hell." Cullen looked up at Rich. "I'm lucky to have got away without a slap, right?"

Rich slumped down in the booth across from him, tentatively rubbing his nose. "Where's my drink?"

"Are you kidding? We should go."

Rich's eyes danced around the bar. "The night's still young."

"Aye, well, you're not going to trap any blokes looking like that."

Rich looked down at his shirt. "I can wash it."

"You said we need to go. You were right." Cullen led out of the bar, making for the cloakroom to retrieve Rich's overcoat.

While they waited, Ewan McGregor headed their way, accompanied by a guy who looked like a young John Hannah.

Cullen nudged Rich. "There's your boyfriend."

"Fuck off."

"His mate looks like John Hannah."

"He looks fuck all like him." Rich grabbed his jacket. "Maybe the eyebrows."

The two men were smoking outside. Ewan McGregor squared up to Rich. "Here's that fucking poof."

"I'm a police officer and I'm not above arresting you for assault."

"Just fucking try it. I can get the CCTV tapes of what your boyfriend was trying to do to me in there."

"Let's just leave it. We've all had a fair amount to drink."

Rich pointed a finger at him. "I don't think I'm finished with this one. I don't know whether to kick the shit out of him or fuck him."

Cullen grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away. "Come on." He led him up Hanover Street, towards George Street and hopefully some taxis.

Rich shrugged away from Cullen. He turned to face back down Hanover Street and grabbed his crotch. "I'm going to fuck you, pal! Right up your fucking arsehole!"

The Ewan McGregor lookalike tossed his cigarette aside and started up the street towards them.

Cullen flagged down the first available taxi.

Tuesday

9th October 2012

Cullen lay in bed, bursting for a piss, sunlight penetrating his eyelids. His head was thumping, his mouth bone dry.

His dream still lingered. He'd starred in a film with John Hannah and Ewan McGregor, a cross between The Mummy and Trainspotting.

Rich was in it as well, kissing Ewan.

John Hannah laughing at Cullen.

Occasionally, the other Katie would appear - Cullen's ex - but she acted like Sharon, kissed Caldwell and got off with Ewan McGregor.

He opened his eyes. The sunlight had crept from the open curtains right up to his bed. He glanced at the alarm clock.

9.03.

Shite.

*
*
*

Cullen staggered into the Incident Room having broken at least two laws on his way in.

He sniffed his armpits - the quick blast of Lynx in the car at the traffic lights on Leith Walk would sort him out.

He spotted Buxton swearing at a laptop and made a beeline for him. "Seen Methven?"

"Not since the briefing. He was looking for you, though. What did you think of it? You seemed to get off without that many actions."

"Well, I'll be in the CCTV suite if he's looking for me."

"Awake or asleep? You fucking stink of booze, mate."

"Must be the new aftershave."

"You haven't shaved, you cheeky fucker."

Cullen left the Incident Room and headed to the canteen. He was tempted to try Bain's hangover cure again but he couldn't honestly say it had any effect on Saturday. The only thing that would help would be more lager. He made eye contact with Barbara and picked up a stick of chewing gum.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. Methven. He tugged Cullen off towards bollocking corner. "You can forget about getting a sodding bacon butty." He pushed Cullen to sit opposite him. "Why weren't you at the briefing this morning?"

"I was out in West Lothian speaking to a CHIS."

"At seven in the morning?" Methven's hands jangled away in his pocket. He held Cullen's gaze for ten or so seconds before Cullen had to break off. "I can sodding smell the booze off you from here, Cullen. You were out drinking last night, weren't you?"

Cullen looked away then gave a slight nod. "Yes."

Methven shook his head. "When did you get home?"

"After one. I slept in. The alarm didn't go off."

"Cullen, can I just sodding remind you we're working a double murder investigation here. You get to go drinking when we've brought someone in and charged them, not when we're in the middle of it. Especially when you've just taken two days off."

"They were after nine days back-to-back."

"You look like crap."

"I just broke up with my girlfriend. It goes with the territory."

"DS McNeill?"

Cullen nodded.

Methven gripped the edge of the table. "I really don't like it when officers get involved with each other. It always ends up like this. It's no excuse, you know? DC Caldwell's going through a divorce. I don't see her out on the town in sodding nightclubs or what have you."

Cullen looked away, across the canteen. "I'm sorry."

Methven closed his eyes, hand jangling. "Before I took you on, I'd heard a lot about you. You were promising, you got results, but you might be out of control. Well, I've confirmed it now. I don't think DI Cargill or DCI Turnbull realise how out of control you are, Cullen."

"I'm not out of control, I'm just going through a rough patch."

"Alcohol abuse isn't the best way to deal with rough patches."

"I'm not an alcoholic."

Methven's large eyebrows furrowed. "Did I say you were?"

"No." Cullen grimaced.

"We all like a drink, don't get me wrong, but there's a time and a place for everything. Don't let it dominate you."

"Okay."

Methven pointed a finger at him. "I covered for you at the briefing this morning. It'll be the first and only time, okay? If you don't buck your ideas up, DI Cargill and DCI Turnbull will be told about this. It's all documented."

"This will be the last time."

"It better be. Given the state you're in, I assume you're not fit for normal duties."

"I can do my job. Besides, I think I need something to take my mind off it. I'll be fine once I've got a coffee in me."

Methven looked him up and down. "You might want to wash your face and brush your hair while you're at it." He got out his notebook and flipped back a couple of pages. "Your actions for the day, assuming you're actually capable of working, are as follows. The door-to-door in the street came in and it looks like Aitken didn't return home on Tuesday night. We've backed that up with the forensics."

"So he was abducted?"

"We don't know that. What I need is for you and Buxton to do some digging. Find out if he disappeared or ran away. The last sighting was at work on Tuesday."

Cullen jotted it down in his notebook. "I'll get onto it."

Methven pointed at him. "I'm serious about this, this is the last sodding time I ever cover for you. You'll be dropped in the muck so sodding fast, you won't know what's hit you."

Cullen filled up his desk with prints of phone records over the previous fortnight - Aitken on the left and Souness on the right.

He cross-traced their contact, noticing they'd made a number of calls to each other, mainly Aitken to Souness. There was a spike in frequency on Tuesday, starting about ten a.m., but which came to a sudden stop just after five. He looked through the previous weeks that he had in a loose pile and noticed their regular phone contact was two or three times a day.

There were two mobile numbers he couldn't square off against contacts. He called Tommy Smith in the Phone Squad, an old acquaintance.

"All right, buddy? How can I help?"

"Morning, Tommy. How do you know I'm looking for help?"

"I don't think you're interested in my Lothian & Borders poetry club."

"No, you've got me." Cullen laughed.

"You sound a bit rough. Been hitting the whisky?"

"Jaegermeister and Red Bull."

"Oh dear. My youngest is a fiend for the old Jaegerbomb."

"Tommy, I've got some phone numbers I need to trace. I've come up empty on my own searches, so I was wondering if you could help."

"Sure thing, buddy."

Cullen read out the two numbers.

"Give me a minute there, I need to stick this on mute, all right?"

Cullen leaned back on his chair. His eyes were stinging. His head was throbbing. He still felt pissed. He knew well enough 'never again' meant 'until the weekend', but this time he might actually mean it.

"All right, buddy? Got something back. They're Pay As You Go SIM cards, delivered to a shop in Ravencraig, imaginatively enough called Ravencraig News."

Cullen sat forward in the seat. "Both of them were?"

"That's right. Consecutive serial numbers, but they only acquire the network number when they connect first time. Definitely bought at the same time, though."

*
*
*

"You shouldn't be working if you're too pissed to drive." Buxton pulled into the kerb outside the shop, just off the main drag in Ravencraig.

"Relax, Budgie."

"Would you stop it with that? You're becoming a right bloody hypocrite, mate. You're pissed off with Bain calling you Sundance, but you've got a million and one names for people. Budgie, Britpop, Shagger, God knows what else."

"Sorry. I must seem like a dick."

"You do. I'm sorry but that's the God's honest truth."

"Okay."

"Now, are you sure you're okay to do this?"

"Relax, I'm fine." Cullen felt anything but.

"Don't think Methven thought that way. He was still raging when he came back to the Incident Room."

"Was he?" Cullen stared out of the window. "Let's go and see what this shop's got to say."

Cullen hadn't phoned ahead for fear of warning the proprietor. They trudged into the shop and joined a queue.

The guy behind the till looked Polish - he had dark hair and the classic Slavic look. He screwed his eyes up at an old lady at the front. "That's the seventh time in the last month my paper's not turned up."

Cullen grabbed a bottle of Lucozade as they waited.

The next two customers quickly bought stuff with exact change.

Cullen paid for the Lucozade then held out his warrant card. His hand was shaking, so he put it back in his pocket.

"How I help, Officers?"

"You can start by giving your name."

"Sure, it is Marcin Wdowski."

"We've got two phone numbers we've traced to Pay As You Go SIM cards delivered to this address. Do you keep a record of sales?"

"I not." Wdowski tapped his head. "I have steel trap mind."

"How many do you sell each month?"

"Maybe five."

"Do you ever sell more than one at a time?"

Wdowski nodded. "It happen. Time to time."

Cullen got out his notebook, flipping through to the notes he'd taken on the call records. The first phone was calling Aitken three weeks previously - he could assume the card was bought that week. "What about around about the eighteenth of September?"