Windchill (10 page)

"These must be the last ones left in the city centre." Cullen tapped the first of a row of phone boxes, Waverley station below and the crags just about visible in the east. "I've no idea how he copes."

"You know a lot about it, do you?"

Cullen shrugged. "Me and Budgie saw him earlier. We had a bit of a discussion about it. Poor bastard."

"Maybe he's the ghost of Christmas future?"

"What, because I'm a hard-core drinker?"

"Maybe."

"That's what I hate about all this Christmas shite. It's all about the haves. Fuck the have-nots. That poor guy will have a fucking miserable time."

Chapter 20

Cullen took three goes to hang his suit jacket on the coat rack in the hall. "I'm off for a slash."

"Charming."

He went into the bathroom, lifting the lid and catching sight of himself in the mirror as he started to piss. Lines around his face, eyes struggling to focus. Rough as fuck.

He stared down at the toilet pan, the water barely discoloured by his urine and shook himself off. He put the lid down before flushing, not wanting another bollocking.

As he turned to open the door, he spotted a trail of yellow in the bath. Fluffy. He shook his head before he went through to the living room.

Sharon sat on the sofa, the cat snuggling into her, his yellow eyes glaring at Cullen. She lifted of a bottle of wine and poured him a glass. "It's one of those cheap ones from Aldi. Needs a bit of breathing but it's not too bad."

"Excellent." Cullen sat down with a groan before taking a big slurp of wine. "Your lover there has pissed in the bath."

"What is it about the men in my life urinating against enamel?"

Cullen blushed. "Right. So I take it you're in the mood to talk about it now?"

"I am." Sharon ran a hand across her forehead. "You've got to watch what you're doing, Scott. People still think you're a wild man."

"I'm not that bad."

"You heard what Angela said. You go off on your little cowboy trips and then you piss in the sink. In the
ladies'
."

"I get res-"

"Stop it. I know." She took a drink and slammed the glass down on the coffee table, a bead of wine dribbling down the side. "Scott, with your record, you should've been a DS by now. Six months acting isn't making it."

"This is what Methven was going on about earlier at my appraisal." Cullen took a sniff of wine, his nose way past functioning. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

Sharon looked down at the cat, rubbing his chin as he leaned against her, his paws resting on her breast. "We had a sergeants' meeting today. I shouldn't be telling you this, obviously, but Lamb reckons you should be getting the next Acting DS role."

"Just acting?"

"Scott, drop it. Methven wants it on rotation across you, Chantal and Stuart Murray to build up the team."

"So you're telling me I should go and work for Bill?"

"That's not exactly going to help, is it?"

"How?"

"It's Methven you need to impress. He's the one holding all the cards there. Him and Cargill are like that." She intertwined two fingers.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I think you've maybe got a few ideas."

"Maybe." Cullen nodded as he took a sip of wine, not as sharp as he expected. "I bumped into Bain earlier."

"Jesus. Really?"

"Aye. He took great pains to remind me of my own mortality."

"Charming."

"Made me glad to have Crystal as a DI instead of him."

"Is he still a DI?"

"Mm, not sure." Cullen scowled. "He was a bit cagey about it, shall we say."

"Unbelievable. I heard he was getting demoted to DS."

"What, seriously?"

"Aye."

"In Glasgow, though, right?"

"No idea." Sharon shrugged. "It's one resource pool now, remember?"

"Fucking hell, that's all I need. Competing with him for a DS gig."

"It'll be tough. There's a lot of officers on the way back down these days." Sharon nudged the cat away and leaned over to snuggle into Cullen. "You need to prove to Methven you're capable of leading a team."

"How?"

"Why not think about cutting back on the booze?"

"Are you saying I've got a problem?"

"Don't you think you've been drinking a lot recently?"

"Not really." Cullen poured himself another glass of wine before topping Sharon's up. "Come on, we're in Tenerife soon. The prospect of spending a week drinking with you is what's getting me through working tomorrow."

"Scott, drinking isn't the answer."

"I don't know what is then."

She held his gaze for a few seconds before she looked away. "This is about Becky, isn't it?"

Cullen stared across the room, eyes burning, gut lurching. He set the glass down on the table and rubbed his eyes. "We shouldn't have named her. We really shouldn't."

"We did it because you weren't talking about losing our baby."

"I never wanted her in the first place."

"I know, but we had her and now she's gone. You need to talk to me or your mum or Dr Byrne or whoever. Just talk to someone other than a pint glass."

"Why?"

"Because you're drinking your career away. You and Buxton really aren't good for each other."

"It's not that bad."

"Scott, it might not be yet but it's getting that way, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Just deal with it. Okay?"

Cullen nodded. "I'll think about it."

Christmas Day

Wednesday

25th December 2013

Chapter 21

"Your Christmas breakfast is waiting for you." Sharon leaned against the door frame, wearing just her bedclothes - cotton shorts and a vest top.

Cullen blinked at the light as he propped himself up on his elbows, feeling the sweat ooze from his pores, booze seeping out. The heating was on high, the radiator at his head blasting out heat. Cooking smells hit his nostrils. "Is that bacon?"

"Aye. Bacon roll with brown sauce."

"Anyone ever tell you how much of a legend you are?"

"Fluffy does."

Cullen laughed as he tossed the duvet to the side and staggered to his feet. "Why are you up so early?"

"Just trying to get on with things. I've got a long day to fill with you at work."

Cullen kissed her on the lips. "Nothing to do with you not being able to sleep?"

"Maybe." She tugged him by the hand through to the living area. On the table, two rolls sat on plates, steam wafting up from the mugs of tea. "Ta-da!"

"Looks great." Cullen sat down and tore into his, the bacon crisp and the butter melted from the heat. "This is bloody good."

Sharon sat opposite, squeezing tomato ketchup onto her roll. "I went down to Crombie's at lunchtime yesterday to get some decent bacon."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Cullen took a glug of tea, washing his breakfast down. "Surprised the little big guy's not been ratting at it."

"I got him a tin of special food."

"For special cats?" Cullen spotted Fluffy hunched over his food bowl, purring as he violently chewed, a couple of splodges already dropped on the floor. "Don't you want to get him a bow tie as well?"

"I thought of a little sailor outfit."

"It'll need to be full-size one. He's a big boy." Cullen finished and pushed the plate away. "That was brilliant."

"That's all the cooking I'm doing today. An organic chicken isn't going to be lovely once I've burnt it."

"You'll be fine. I can just show up and do the tatties?"

"No."

"Great." Cullen took a deep breath, scowling at his empty plate. "At least Crystal won't be in. I'll try and fuck off early."

"Come and open your presents." Sharon got to her feet and padded over to the small inflatable Christmas tree in the corner.

Cullen took his mug and sat on the sofa, only just catching the parcel wrapped in purple paper. "What's this?"

"Open it and you'll find out."

He took a few seconds to slowly unwrap the paper, easing it open and keeping it intact. A Nintendo 3DS. Eh? "What's this for?"

"Tom told me you used to play computer games at uni. It might stop your drinking a bit."

"Fucking Tom."

"Don't you like it?"

"No, it's good. Cheers. I'd been thinking of getting something like that."

"I haven't got you any games but we could go to that shop up the road tomorrow?"

"Aye." Cullen put it down and went over to kiss her. "Just disappointed I can't get stuck into a Zelda game right now."

"What's Zelda?"

"Never mind."

"You've no time for games. You need to get to work soon."

Cullen reached down to pick up her presents, heart thudding. "Here you go."

"Thanks." She tore open the first one, chucked the wrapping on the floor. "Oh, it's that perfume? Brilliant." She opened the next with even more haste. "And that necklace?"

"What can I say? I'm observant. I saw you looking at them in the shops just up the road."

She tore open the last one,
The Wire
season two. "Oh, thank God. Something decent to watch."

"Hope you don't mind me watching it with you."

"As if I could." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks. I love them."

"We didn't stop by a petrol station last night, so sorry for the lack of flowers."

"I love them." She kissed him on the forehead. "You'd better get to work."

"It's just Buxton in today."

"But you told him to get there in twenty minutes time. You're the boss now."

Chapter 22

"Today was the first in ages I missed my old car." Cullen slumped behind a desk in their office space, Caldwell's report stacked neatly in the corner. "I usually love walking in but it's bloody freezing."

"At least the streets are empty, mate." Buxton tucked into a scone, smeared with butter and jam.

"Hardly. It was full of street cleaners dealing with last night's mess."

"Until I moved up here, I thought mental drinking on Christmas Eve was just an English thing."

"What, us 'sweaty socks' are all about tins of shortbread on Hogmanay?"

"Something like that."

"Not any more. Hogmanay's shite these days, anyway. It's just loads of schemies and neds trying to get off with each other on Princes Street. My Gran used to tell me about how her and my Grandad would wander round Dundee and go into random houses where there were parties on."

"Seriously?"

"Aye. They called it first footing or some bollocks. Something about a lump of coal, as well." Cullen took a sip of coffee. "You'd get stabbed for doing that these days."

Buxton chuckled before taking a bite. "Barbara was doing her nut about how busy the station is."

"I can imagine." Cullen took another sip of the coffee. "You didn't get to Argos, then?"

"Argos?" Buxton patted his hair, now flattened down and almost touching his eyes. "No, didn't get the clippers. I'll be in there tomorrow first thing, Boxing Day sales or not."

"What time did you leave last night?"

"Late."

"Late enough to get off with a schemie?"

"Hardly. Ended up getting mashed with Wilkinson after you guys left. Don't feel too bad, mind."

"The youth of today." Cullen shook his head. "Can't believe Methven forced all this on me. I'm such an idiot."

"You love it, really." Buxton crumpled his cup and tossed it towards the bin, just about getting it in. "Sharon didn't seem too happy about you working today."

"No, she wasn't."

"Nightmare. Not sure how much we'll get done today, either."

"I've got that report from Angela to check through. Can you type up the notes from yesterday?"

"Getting double time for doing that? Superb."

"That's not all you're sodding doing, Constable." Methven hung his coat up on the rack.

Cullen got to his feet. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"I want to get a result on this today. You're both going to be busy."

"Okay." Cullen let out a deep breath. "I thought you were putting me in charge?"

"I don't care about that. Come on, I want a briefing. Meeting room, now."

Chapter 23

"And I finally spoke to Donald Ingram last night." Cullen shut his notebook. "He's lived in Spain for the last two years."

Methven nodded. "Did he have anything to add?"

"Afraid not."

"So it's out-of-date info?"

"Right." Buxton sniffed. "Doesn't mean he didn't have anything to do with McCoull's death, though, does it?"

"No." Methven shut his eyes, lifting his head up. "Simon, please add investigating him to your list of tasks."

Buxton shook his head lightly as he scribbled a note. "Will do, sir."

"I want you two busting your sodding bollocks today, okay?" Methven shifted his gaze between them. "None of this 'let's milk the OT and bugger off early', okay? We're here to do a job."

Cullen rested on his elbows. "Look, we've told you about the CCTV proving the alibi, which Simon's backed up with Young's phone records, and I'm going to follow up on the report DC Caldwell got us. What else is there?"

"Just get on with it. I haven't forgotten our discussion yesterday." Methven grinned, dead eyes boring into Cullen. "I've sat here and listened to your update and you've missed two key aspects."

Rage burnt in the pit of Cullen's stomach. "What?"

"First, there's the taxi Mr Walker spotted on McCoull's street. We're nowhere with that, are we?"

"You tell me, sir." Cullen folded his arms. "DS Rarity was looking into it."

"Well, I'm sodding asking you two to investigate, okay?"

"Fine." Cullen unfolded his notebook and made a note, underscoring
taxi
twice. "What was the other thing?"

"Mr McCoull was in a party of seven at the Living Room. You've interviewed three of them, leaving another three. Am I correct?"

"You are." Cullen glanced at Buxton. "Simon?"

"I gave the names to DS Rarity before she left last night." Buxton switched his focus from Cullen to Methven. "She said she was going to mobilise some of her team. Her words."

"Very well. She's not in today so I'm telling you, Constable." Methven gave a dismissive wave to Buxton. "Off you go."