Dyed in the Wool (24 page)

"Just knowing exactly what happened will be a start. I can work things out now." She reached into her bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. She tossed them across the table to him.

Cullen looked through them - print-outs of Schoolbook messages between his account and hers. "I didn't send any of these."

"I know." Alison took them back. "I was such a naive little bitch. There was always this discrepancy between what you'd say in your messages and what you'd say when we spoke on the phone or in person. I can't believe I fell for it."

"Don't beat yourself up. Another four women fell for his tricks."

"I'm the lucky one. Left to survive and rot while they're all dead."

"You've got a second chance." He reached over and grabbed her hand. "You know he'd been hacking into all your messages, right? That's how he did it. He knew what you were saying to people, he could second guess you. It's not your fault."

She took a sip of tea. "Most days I wish I hadn't been saved. This just tore me apart."

Cullen's nostrils flared. "One of my colleagues died saving you. You should be grateful."

"Grateful? I should be grateful?"

"Keith died saving you."

"His brother says it was you who saved me, not him."

She knew Derek? "What do you mean?"

"Ever since I started with this new counsellor, I've been meeting up with Derek every couple of weeks. It's helped me."

Why had Derek kept this from him? "But you're feeling better, right?"

"Scott, my life's a living hell. I'll forever be the one who got away from the Schoolbook Killer. I keep getting phone calls from people, asking for titbits for articles or books on my story. I hate living through that."

"I understand."

"Do you? Every night I wake up screaming. He's about to kill me." She finished her tea. "I just want to be held by someone during the night, told it's all right."

*
*
*

Cullen parked on Easter Road. He looked up at Derek Miller's flat. Lying shit.

He got out. The front door was open. He entered and climbed the stairs, clocking the fact there was a light on inside flat four. He rapped on the door.

Derek opened the door a sliver. "Scotty?"

"Got a couple of things I wouldn't mind talking to you about."

"I've not done nothing."

"Relax, this is personal." Mostly personal.

Derek eased a little. "Have you reported the fight to the pigs?"

"We're called police officers."

"Aye, whatever. Have you?"

"Not yet. Can I come in?"

Derek widened the door. "Aye, all right. Dean and Kyle are out."

The flat was even worse than any Cullen had stayed in as a student. Giant posters decorated the wall in the hall - Hibs, Trainspotting, Taxi Driver, a band called The Enemy.

Derek led him into the cramped kitchen area, basically a few decaying units and doors. They sat on a pair of tatty grey sofas at right angles to a forty-two inch TV, Playstation controllers resting on the scarred wooden coffee table. The room stank of cigarette smoke.

Cullen pointed at the TV. "Sticks out like a sore thumb."

"It's mine. Got it from my parents for Christmas."

"So I wouldn't find it matching any burglary reports?"

"Look, what is this?"

"I want to talk about a couple of things. Alison Carnegie for starters."

"Fine." Derek stood up again. "You want a coffee?"

"Got anything sweet?"

"Got a big bottle of Irn Bru in the fridge I've not opened yet. Kyle drinks out of the bottle too."

"Irn Bru would be good." Cullen settled into the settee. The TV showed the latest FIFA game on it, paused. Hibs vs Barcelona. "I don't have to guess which team you're playing as."

"Aye. Getting spanked four one, though."

"Surely the one is a miracle."

"Aye, probably just my natural flair showing through." Derek came over with two pint glasses of Irn Bru.

"Classy." Cullen took a sip.

"I'd give you a Stella but you're on duty."

"I'm off duty."

"Whatever, here's cheers." Derek took a big drink.

Cullen followed suit - the ice cold drink took another layer off the hangover.

Derek put his glass down and switched off the TV. "You going to report that wee skirmish?"

"I might."

"Been a couple of days now. That not a bit suspicious?"

"I've been busy."

"You look like shite."

"Had a bit too much to drink last night."

Derek laughed. "Drinking isn't the answer."

Cullen took a drink of Irn Bru. "Okay, tell me about Alison Carnegie?"

Derek frowned. "Alison? What's she been saying?"

"That you met up with her to discuss Keith's death."

"Aye." Derek's eyes shifted about. "I'm not a poofter or anything but I thought it would help to talk about… Keith."

"I'm not saying you are. How have you found it?"

"Not bad." Derek avoided Cullen's eyes. "Talking with you was kind of useful but speaking to that lassie was good. She's pretty fucked up by what happened."

"You should have told me."

"Why?"

"Because."

"She told me you porked her once." Derek grinned. "Couldn't get out of her if it touched both sides at the same time, but I guess she must've been pissed."

"Very good." Cullen took a sip. "I know about the gang."

"What gang?"

"You were spotted in a quarry in West Lothian last Monday night. There was a big fight."

Derek took another big gulp of Irn Bru. "So? I wasn't there."

"Did you really get mugged?"

"Got into a fight. Didn't want you to go running to your mates."

"Lying about it is much more likely to make me dig into it, Derek. What happened?"

"Just a wee pagger on Leith Walk."

"Like Saturday?"

"Kind of. I punched some boy, he socked us one back, so I booted fuck out of him. All good fun."

"When was this?"

"Last Monday night."

"Not in West Lothian on Tuesday?"

"I swear I wasn't there, Scotty."

"Two people died in that quarry."

"Aye. So I heard." Derek drummed his fingers against the glass. "Saw it in the paper."

"Really?"

"I know people, Scotty. A lot of people are a bit worried about it. I wasn't there."

"I don't believe you. If you know anything, you should really tell me. Who are these people, Derek?"

"I'm not telling you that."

The flat door opened. Footsteps came through the hall into the kitchen. "All right, Derek?"

"All right, Dean. This is my pal, Scotty."

Cullen looked round. It was the ned who stole Rich's phone.

Cullen got to his feet. "See you, Derek."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Do I know you, pal?"

"Don't think so." Cullen left the flat, hurrying down the stairs, mobile clamped to his ear.

"Sundance." Buxton yawned. "What do you want?"

"You still in the station?"

"Aye."

"Can you get over to Easter Road. Number twelve."

"What have you done now?"

"Got a suspect. Bring as many uniform as you can find."

"Like how many? Ten?"

"Two will do."

"Be there in five."

Cullen pocketed his phone. He checked there wasn't a back entrance. It was locked. He walked over to the front door and leaned against it, heart thumping.

Dean. That little shit. Getting the bastard might make something good happen today.

A squad car pulled up on the double yellow line.

Cullen jogged towards them. He heard the door slam behind him and footsteps race off. Spinning round, he saw Dean running down Easter Road towards Leith.

"Shite."

Cullen set off after him, hearing the others behind him take off.

Dean ran across the street, almost being hit by a car.

Cullen followed him, watching as he bolted down a side street by a Polish shop, quickly losing sight of him.

At the end, the street forked. Cullen looked around.

Dean had gone left.

Cullen crossed the road, running past a pub before turning left again, doubling back towards the Hibs stadium.

Dean crossed the footbridge over the railway line.

Buxton and one of the uniforms crossed the bridge from the other side.

Dean stopped in the middle. "I'll jump!"

"Go ahead." Buxton held out his baton. "I doubt there'll be a train there for another fifty years."

Cullen started sneaking up behind him.

"This is police brutality, man!"

Cullen stepped forward and grabbed hold of Dean, pulled his right arm up behind his back. He put a choke hold on. "I'm arresting you on suspicion of mobile phone theft."

*
*
*

"This is a joke." Cullen stood in Leith Walk station, watching Dean Richardson make his phone call in the secure room.

Buxton nodded. "Tell me about it."

"That bloody Cadder fucked everything up. Used to be able to just bung them in a room and interview them, now it's worse than your system."

"I might be English but I'm not responsible for the English judicial system. Is the Scottish one your fault?"

"I suppose not." Cullen laughed. "This is such a pain in the arse. Having to watch the suspect making the call but not listen to what they say."

"You still haven't told me what he's done."

"Nicked my mate's phone."

"Taking the law into your own hands."

Cullen grinned. "If I was doing that, I'd not have called."

"That's some progress, I suppose."

"Don't you start."

Richardson hung up the call and sauntered over to Cullen. "Lawyer's on his way."

Cullen tugged him by the arm and led him back to the cells.

*
*
*

"What charges are you levelling at my client?" Alistair Reynolds looked barely out of high school, let alone a qualified lawyer. His face was covered in acne, but he carried himself with an assured manner.

"Mobile phone theft." Cullen sat opposite him in the interview room. "I'd like to get Mr Richardson on tape. We've gone to the hassle of getting you in, so I'd appreciate if you'd get him to speak."

"My client's not in a fit state to communicate."

"Bollocks."

"He's been subject to police brutality."

"He was evading arrest. He was out of that flat as soon as the squad car arrived. Didn't even have the lights on." Cullen spun the file he had over and pointed at the charge sheet. "This is the crime he committed. We've already retrieved the mobile phone from his bedroom. I just need to get a statement from him and I'd appreciate it if we could have it documented on tape."

"Fine, fine."

"Good. I'll get him in." Cullen got to his feet and wrapped on the door. "We're ready."

Cullen's least favourite PCSO showed Dean Richardson in before standing at the back of the room.

Cullen waited until he was settling before leaning over and starting the interview. "Mr Richardson, can you please confirm your whereabouts on Friday night?"

"No comment."

Cullen looked at the lawyer. "Mr Reynolds, can I inform you and your client that silence doesn't imply innocence, especially when the phone in question was discovered in his possession?"

Richardson slouched back in the chair, a smug grin on his face. "I know my rights and I'm saying nothing."

"I was there when you stole the phone."

"Mr Cullen, while my client's been accused of a crime, he will not partake in further discussion on this subject with yourself or any other officer."

"Fine. I've charged him and he's in court tomorrow morning." Cullen picked up Richardson's report. "Not a first time offender, either. Judges are going pretty heavy on mobile theft just now. Just wondered if you fancied clarifying your statement. Maybe save the taxpayer some time and money?"

"I'm saying nothing."

Cullen ended the interview and got to his feet. He nodded for the PCSO to take Richardson back down to the custody suite before leaving the room himself.

Buxton followed. "I see what you mean. It's getting like London."

"Tell me about it. No comment this, no comment that. Fed up with it. I saw him steal the phone, it was in his bedroom. He's going down for this."

"Thought you'd foxtrot oscared for the evening?"

"I had. Then I found that little scumbag. I've just given myself a shitload more paperwork to do."

Buxton grinned. "Methven will love that when he hears about it."

*
*
*

Cullen got home at quarter to ten, totally broken. He barrelled into the kitchen and dumped his twelve inch pizza on the counter.

Rich was cooking an omelette. "That stinks."

Cullen opened the lid. "Jalapeños, spicy mince, onion and extra mozzarella."

"That'll really settle your stomach." Rich swirled the egg round in the pan. "Captain Swordsman."

Cullen laughed. "You can talk." He picked up a slice. "Last time I saw you, you were trying to shag Renton out of Trainspotting."

Rich flipped the omelette over and threw cheese, peppers and mushrooms on the top. "Let's call it a score draw." He folded the omelette in half.

"I've got your phone."

"What?"

"Your S3. Managed to retrieve it."

Rich rolled his eyes. "Fuck's sake. I've just ordered an iPhone 5."

Cullen laughed. "Thought the S3 was a much better phone?"

Rich took the omelette off the heat and slid it on a plate. "Yeah, well, the Samsung was getting on my tits. It's just too big."

"Never thought I'd hear you say those words."

"Whatever." Rich got cutlery out of the drawer then led Cullen through to the dining table in the hall, pizza box in hand. "So, what happened?"

"Funny story. You know the brother of the guy I worked with that died? Well, his flatmate stole it. Guy called Dean Richardson."

"Good work." Rich took a mouthful of egg.

"It's a coincidence, that's all. Stroke of luck. Besides, you can cancel the iPhone."

Rich chewed another mouthful. "Do I need to report it?"

"Aye. I've got a crime on the system but if you could pop into a station tomorrow, I'd appreciate it." Cullen took another bite, feeling the chilli heat build up. "You know you said someone at your paper's doing a book on the Schoolbook Killer?"