Windchill (24 page)

Wayne patted her sleeve. "Let me finish up here, sweetheart."

"Fine." She slammed the living room door shut behind her.

"Sorry about that." Wayne sniffed before clearing his throat. "Aye, where was I?"

"Kenny Falconer?"

"Wee cunt nicked my MiniDisc player."

"Right." Cullen smiled. Useless fuckwit. "Have you heard from him since?"

"Tried texting the wee fanny. Cunt's not replying, though, is he?"

"Have you tried calling him?"

"Aye. Like his phone's off."

"But he was definitely here at the time?"

"Aye. Defo." Wayne rummaged around in his nose. "Do I need to file a report or something about the MD?"

"It might help if you want it back."

"Fine. I'll get down there one of these days."

"Thanks for your time." Cullen led back to the car, glaring at the bolted door. "MiniDisc player."

"I know, right?" Buxton opened his door. "What do you reckon?"

"I think we should speak to locals and find out if that pair are on the level."

Chapter 59

"Oh for God's sake, here we go again." PC Duncan West put his head in his hands as he saw Cullen approach. "Cowboy Cullen and his new squire. Got some fresh straw in for your chariot, my liege."

"Charming as ever." Cullen looked around the admin area of Bathgate station, the familiar smells and sounds hitting his brain - Pot Noodle, stale farts, burps, keyboards clicking. "You got a sec?"

West's gaze danced between Cullen and Buxton. "What?"

"Just been to see Wayne and Emily Newall."

"Drove Road, Armadale, right?"

"Aye.

"What of them?"

"Provided an alibi for a murder suspect and we need to know if it's dodgy or not. What's their story?"

"You got an hour or two?"

Cullen frowned. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Right, that place is a party flat." West slumped back in his seat. "We've got about fifteen in our patch, just boozing and whatever else until the wee small hours. All day, every day. Total nightmare. The council needs to get a handle on it and kick them all out."

"And these two? Wayne and Emily?"

"Aye, they're among the worst. We get called out there twice a week. Usually there's a load of people boozed out of their heads. And worse."

"Sounds like fun."

"Aye, and you're saying they've given a murder suspect an alibi?"

"Aye." Cullen tried to weigh it up - a dodgy alibi wouldn't be the worst thing they'd done. "Could they be on the level?"

"Probably. They'll not want to stand up in court, if that's what you're getting at, but they're actually quite trustworthy."

"How?"

"They might play gabba until the wee small hours of the morning, but they turn it off when we pitch up. Wayne's one of our DC's Covert Human Intelligence Sources."

"You're kidding."

"Wish I was."

Cullen felt a hand on his shoulder.

"There you are."

He turned around. Sharon. "Hey." He nodded at Buxton. "Can you investigate with PC West here?"

Buxton nodded. "Sure thing."

West led Buxton off away from them, eyes locked on Sharon's behind. He looked up, scowling at Cullen.

Cullen patted Sharon on the back. "Come on, then, DI McNeill."

Sharon took him towards a meeting room, blinds drawn behind the glass. She slammed the door, making the walls shake.

"Woah, woah." Cullen looked around the vacant room, the floor and table covered with case files, before looking back at Sharon. "You okay?"

"Sit."

"Yes, miss." Cullen sat at the table. The walls were covered in photos and Post-It notes. "Take it your first day isn't going well?"

"Don't get me started." Sharon slumped in a chair, putting her head in her hands. "This is a complete disaster."

"In what way?"

"There's just too much reading to get through." She patted the boxes. "I've no idea what they've been doing, but they need a librarian more than a DI."

"You'll get there."

"Mm." She raised an eyebrow as she let out a breath. "I wish I was back on the beach."

"Aye, me too. I've been pissing Budgie off about it all day." Cullen leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. "Methven's given me your workload."

"Seriously?"

"Aye. I'm not happy about it."

"Well, it's all experience, isn't it?"

"Maybe. We caught Kenny."

"You could've told me."

"I'm telling you now. Sorry. Had a mental morning. He was staying with his mate in Wester Hailes. We got it out of that bookseller you told me about."

"Always a weak link in the chain, isn't there?"

"Aye."

"Do you think you'll get him?"

"I hope so. He's got an alibi for the whole time in question. That's the reason we're out here."

"I see." Her forehead creased. "Sounds like he'll get off with it again."

"Reckons his prints are on the knife because he sold Andrew Smith a ShivWorks Disciple."

She nodded. "That was in Smith's statement."

"Not had the time to read through the paperwork yet." Cullen cleared his throat. "See when you raided the shop, did you get anything relating to the knife business?"

"Not that I recall. Why?"

"Well, Falconer reckons he's got a journal of transactions proving they were all above board."

"It'd be a very useful thing to have."

"Anyway, that knife was the murder weapon."

"Which closes off the trail against Falconer. Smith was our only witness. Nobody to testify, no conviction."

"Right. So, the only evidence you had was Smith's statement?"

"Correct."

"So, now Smith's dead the case is dead."

"Yup."

"Shite."

"Welcome to my world, lover boy."

Cullen got to his feet. "Right, I'll nail him for this stabbing."

"You do that." Sharon picked up a file and started flicking through it. "When are you finishing tonight?"

"I'll hopefully get off early."

"I've heard that before." She tossed the file back on the desk. "Do you mind if I book another holiday?"

Chapter 60

"Sodding, sodding hell." Methven stood in the corridor outside the interview rooms. "Why did they let Nelson leave?"

Cullen scowled at the closed door, Kenny Falconer safely under guard behind it. "Sergeant Mullen should've known we'd be back in there with him sooner or later."

"Nelson's obviously a busy man." Buxton shrugged, eyes still on his mobile. "Partner at a law firm and all that."

"They're dodgy is what they are."

"I resent that." Nelson brushed past them, standing by the door, glasses halfway down his nose. "Ours is a reputable firm, I'll have you know."

Methven smiled at the lawyer. "Please disregard those comments."

"I shall do my best, sir." Nelson prodded the door with his umbrella. "Do you mind if I have a word with my client before we get started this time?"

"Be my guest." Methven raised his hands. "My officers have had a particularly fruitful morning out in West Lothian."

"West Lothian? Interesting." Nelson smiled. "Thank you." He hefted up his bulging briefcase and entered the room.

Buxton shook his head. "Don't you just love him?"

Methven grimaced. "Like a particularly despicable great aunt."

Cullen took a step towards Methven. "With all due respect, sir, what the hell are you playing at by letting him in there?"

Methven grinned. "I'm afraid you've had a wild goose chase out west."

Cullen scowled at him. "I'm sorry?"

"While you were out there, I attended the post mortem. While it's yet to formally conclude, Deeley confirmed the time of death was sometime on the evening of the thirtieth of December."

Cullen frowned. "You're serious?"

"Do you know me to joke, Constable?"

"So you're saying the only alibi we need from him is the thirtieth?"

"Correct." Methven nodded at the door. "Nelson will be in there prepping a pack of lies for what Falconer was up to in Armadale."

Cullen nodded. "I'm with you now."

"On you go. Let me know how it goes immediately." Methven marched off down the corridor, hand reaching into his pocket.

Cullen watched him retreat. "I don't know who's worse."

"The lawyer, right?" Buxton grinned.

"I meant him or Bain, but you're probably right." Cullen entered the interview room, sitting opposite Nelson.

The lawyer stopped whispering into Falconer's ear and started unpacking his briefcase. The stack of files he'd previously carried were now wedged into compartments, stretching the black leather.

Cullen started the recorder, staring at Falconer, leaning forward to speak into the microphone. "Interview commenced at fourteen oh nine on Thursday the eighth of January 2014. Present are myself, Detective Constable Scott Cullen, and Acting Detective Constable Simon Buxton. Kenneth William Falconer is joined by his solicitor, Michael Nelson."

He waited for Nelson to stop fidgeting with his pens. "Mr Falconer, can you go through your whereabouts on the night of the thirtieth of December?"

Falconer rolled his eyes. "This again?"

"Please."

"I told you. I was in the pub."

"Which one?"

"You must know it." Falconer smirked. "The pub."

"We're going to need to be a bit more precise than that, I'm afraid."

"Really?"

"We are." Cullen nodded - games, games, games. "It turns out Mr Smith was murdered on the thirtieth."

Falconer swallowed. "How do you know that?"

"We've got a man called James Deeley who works with us. He's the city's chief pathologist. He's had to look at the bodies of two of your previous victims, Kenny."

"Shut it."

"Did you say the thirtieth?" Nelson blinked a few times as his glasses slipped down his nose.

"Aye, that's when we understand Andrew Smith was stabbed by your client."

"I see." Nelson sifted through some paperwork.

"I didn't kill him!"

Cullen ran his tongue over his teeth, eyes boring into Falconer. "Mr Nelson, your client needs to provide his whereabouts for the time in question."

Nelson looked up from his paperwork and held his gaze for a few seconds. "Very well." He leaned over and whispered in Falconer's ear.

"Aye?" Falconer shrugged then focused on Cullen, his mouth twisting up into a smirk. "We were in Teuchter's in town. Wee bar on William Street."

Cullen frowned - Dean Vardy was there that night. "Who were you with?"

"No comment."

Cullen scowled. "If you don't want to be marched into a custody cell just now, you'll tell me who you were with. Sitting in a pub on your own isn't much of an alibi."

Falconer sniffed then glanced round at Nelson. He reached over and whispered in the lawyer's ear, getting a short response. "Fine. Decent idea." He nodded and focused on Cullen. "I was there with a friend."

"A friend?"

"Aye."

"And who's your friend, Kenny?"

"My mate's called Darren Keogh."

Chapter 61

Cullen lurched away from the table - what the hell was going on? "Did you say Darren Keogh?"

"Aye. Dazza's a good buddy of mine."

"You're sure you were with him?"

"Positive."

"On the thirtieth of December, you were in Teuchter's with Darren Keogh?"

"Aye."

Cullen glared at him. "Were you with anyone else?"

"Aye. There was this other boy there."

"What did he look like?"

"Just a bloke. Nothing special."

"How old was he?"

"I'm not good with punters' ages. Give me a bird and I can tell you right down to the month." Falconer winked at him. "It's all about the elbows."

Cullen stared at him for a few seconds, his brain reeling. "Did he have any distinguishing features?"

"Aye, he had a wooden leg and a hunchback." Falconer shook his head. "Of course he fucking didn't. He's just some bloke."

"Any tattoos?"

"Not in the habit of checking out boys' tats, I'm afraid. Girls, aye. Of course."

"Was he muscular or like you?"

"What are you saying, pal?"

"Did he have big arms, like he goes to the gym?"

"Might've done."

"And you were with them for a few hours, right?"

"Aye. It'll be about four hours, all in. From about half seven till closing."

"And you don't have any idea of this man's name?"

"No comment."

Cullen gripped the edge of the table, the laminate cracking further. "I'm finding this hard to believe." He reached into his pocket for his phone, flicking through pages of holiday photos.

Nelson cleared his throat. "Constable, I'd appreciate if you check the news when you get home."

Cullen finally found one of Dean Vardy. He held the phone up, shooting a look at Nelson. "Is this the man you were with?"

Falconer whispered into Nelson's ear, who whispered back, nodding. He cleared his throat. "Aye, it was Dean."

Cullen sighed. "You're sure? This is an incredibly serious matter."

"Aye, it was him. Sorry, it was a wee while ago, pal."

"You were there for a long time. You must've drunk a lot of beer."

"About eight pints of IPA, I reckon."

"What brand?"

"Deuchars."

"Deuchars?" Cullen frowned - this was making less sense. "I thought you'd be a lager man, Kenny."

"Why, cos I'm a scumbag?" Falconer winked again.

"Aye."

"My old boy was into his real ale. Wouldn't let me drink anything else when I was growing up. I mean, when I was eighteen and went to the boozer with him."

"So, you're in there for four hours and you had eight pints of Deuchars IPA." Cullen tossed his head from side to side, eyes on the ceiling, to show the mental arithmetic going on. "It's what, four quid a pint in there?"

"Thereabouts, aye."

"So you spent thirty-two quid?"

"I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Deano paid for it."

"That's very generous of him. Paying for a guy he barely even knows to get hammered."

"If you had a clue you'd know IPA's piss weak, man. It's a proper session ale."

"All the same, that's a lot of cash to spend on a virtual stranger."