Windchill (4 page)

"You love him, really."

"That's eighteen months I've been working for him."

Buxton laughed. "Better or worse than the last one?"

"Don't even start." Cullen led off in the opposite direction towards the waiting patrol car. "Come on, let's get her down to the station."

The uniformed officer was now in the driver's seat. He was fiddling with his phone, a high-end Samsung. He took his time finishing whatever he was doing before tossing the phone to the passenger seat. Took even longer getting out. He leaned against the side of the car and sighed, arms crossed. "What?"

"You arrested her yet?"

"Aye. Doing her with assault. That said, the boy with the eyebrows had it coming to him."

Cullen checked he was out of earshot before grinning. "Been lording it over you, has he?"

"And then some." The PC shook his head. "Where do you want her?"

"Leith Walk. Get the desk sergeant to process her. We'll be down shortly. Make sure she's got a lawyer by the time we're there."

Chapter 7

Buxton stood in the corridor, arms folded. "Think she might have done it?"

"Either that or she knows something." Cullen checked his watch. Still no sign of the lawyer. "I know a few women who'd happily tear their ex-husband's teeth out with a pair of pliers."

A middle-aged man appeared, clutching more folders than seemed possible. Dark brown hair, black-framed glasses, pinstripe suit and shoes you could see your face in. Tall but slouching. "Scott Cullen?"

Cullen flashed his warrant card, vaguely recognising him. "That's me."

"Michael Nelson of Nelson and Parker. Evelyn's lawyer." He dropped a couple of files and knelt down to pick them up. "Oh, shuffle."

Cullen nodded to the door, trying to avoid laughing. "We'll just be in the room."

Nelson smiled as he got to his feet, getting in Cullen's way. "I know you, don't I?"

"Don't think so?"

"Yes, I've seen you in court a few times. Kenny Falconer case a couple of years back."

"Thanks for reminding me." Cullen felt a vein in his temple throb.

Nelson looked him up and down. "So they're letting you play grown-up these days?"

"I've had my stabilisers off for weeks." Cullen took a step back, recoiling at the coffee breath. "Do you need a few minutes with your client?"

"No, I should be fine. Thanks for the offer, though." Nelson shook his head before creasing his brow. "This is just due process at the moment, isn't it?"

"Hardly. She scratched my DI's face."

"Ah."

"Aye, she'll be getting done with that."

"But she's not under any suspicion over her husband's murder?"

"No comment."

"Well, thank you for waiting for me." Nelson pushed his glasses up his nose. "This way you'll get a solid conviction if she did do it. I gather from my colleagues you're not exactly one for going by the book."

"That's a slight exaggeration." Cullen narrowed his eyes at him. "We'll be a few seconds."

Nelson nodded before entering the room, leaving the door open. He sat down next to his client. Evelyn McCoull tossed her hair from side to side. Looked like she was mid-forties but dressed late twenties.

Cullen glanced at Buxton, hungover brain working out cougar jibes but coming up short.

Buxton rubbed his hands before leaning in to whisper. "That bloke's a clown. Didn't check his shoes - they weren't two foot long, were they?"

"Don't be fooled by the bumbling Clark Kent act. Never dealt with him directly, but Sharon has. He's a total arsehole." Cullen scowled at the door. "Right. I'll lead here." He entered the room and sat opposite Nelson.

He started the digital recorder. "Interview commenced at twelve thirty-two. Present are myself, Detective Constable Scott Cullen, Acting Detective Constable Simon Buxton, Michael Nelson and his client, Evelyn McCoull."

He licked his lips, trying to get some moisture in his mouth. "Mrs McCoull, we're investigating the death of your ex-husband, Mr Steven McCoull. The circumstances surrounding his death appear to be suspicious." He left a pause, just enough to make Evelyn think he was expecting her to speak, before continuing. "Can you confirm your relationship with the deceased?"

"Yes. We were married. We divorced three years ago now."

"So what were you doing at his house this morning?"

"I got a call from his next-door neighbour. Eric.
Our
old neighbour." Evelyn sniffled, the lines around her eyes crinkling. "He called me and told me what happened. The fire. He told me Steven was dead."

"This was the first you'd heard?"

Nelson smiled at him. "Constable, are you implying something?"

"Just trying to establish a concrete timeline. It'll help you as much as us."

"Very well." Nelson sat back in his seat, leaning one arm on the back. "If that's the case, I'd appreciate a bit more directness with the questions. I don't want you playing games with my client."

Cullen ignored him. "Mrs McCoull, was this the first you'd heard?"

"It was, yes. Eric said some officers had been round asking about Steven. He called me when they left."

"Any reason why Eric would let you know?"

Evelyn played with her necklace. "Just that I used to be married to Steven?"

"Constable..." Nelson adjusted his glasses. "Can you please quit with the innuendo?"

"I wasn't aware I was using innuendo."

"You are." Nelson peered over the frames of his glasses. "Please keep your questions informational."

"Okay." Cullen glared at him.

Nelson lifted up a sheet of paper and read it. "I'd appreciate some facts to be presented in support of such an accusation."

Buxton looked up from his notebook. "Do you and Mr McCoull have any children?"

"We don't have children." Evelyn twisted her mouth into a smile, eyes remaining frosty. "My husband wanted kids, but I didn't."

Cullen exhaled through his nostrils as he focused on Evelyn. "Please tell us about your divorce."

"We split up three years ago."

"So you said." Cullen folded his arms. "Who divorced who?"

Evelyn looked away. "He divorced me."

"But you kept his name?"

"I still loved him."

Cullen frowned. "Then why the divorce?"

Nelson tugged his glasses off his face. "Is this strictly necessary?"

"This is a murder inquiry, Mr Nelson. Your client may have had motive to kill the victim."

Evelyn swallowed hard, her eyes bulging. "You think someone's killed Steven?"

"We believe that may be the case, yes."

"Jesus."

"Did you kill your husband?"

"No!" Evelyn blinked back tears. "No way did I kill him. How could I?"

Cullen gave her a few seconds. "What did your husband do for a living, Mrs McCoull?"

"He ran a company. JG Markets & Investments. Managed assets and so on. Gave advice on how to invest. It was something to do with stocks and shares. Dealing them, that sort of thing. I don't know the ins and outs of it."

"We'll need to speak to his colleagues."

"You'll need to find that information yourself, I'm afraid." Nelson put his glasses back on, fingers resting on the legs for a few seconds. "My client has been divorced from Mr McCoull for quite some time and has no active role in his affairs."

"Very well." Cullen turned his focus back to Evelyn, her eyes twitching. "Do you know if Mr McCoull was involved with anyone since your divorce?"

"Believe me, I'm the last person who'd know."

"Any family you can think of?"

"Steven was an only child and his parents are both dead. I think he had a couple of cousins in Canada and one down south. St Albans maybe."

"So nobody local?"

"No."

"And nobody with any antagonism towards him?"

"Not that I know." Evelyn shrugged. "It might've changed."

Cullen thought it through for a few seconds. "Mrs McCoull, why did you and Mr McCoull divorce if you still loved him?"

Evelyn tugged at her necklace, the metal links tautening. "Because I had an affair."

"And your husband found out?"

"He did."

"Any idea how?"

"He received a note one day."

"A note?" Cullen clasped his hands behind his head. "What sort of note?"

"I never saw it. It was hand delivered, I think."

"Who by?"

"I suspect it was from Eric."

"Your neighbour?"

"Aye. Eric Young." Evelyn closed her eyes and gave a slight nod. "The man I had the affair with."

Christ on a bike. Cullen scribbled it down. "Why would Mr Young have done that?"

Evelyn shrugged. "Guilt?"

"Are you still with Mr Young?"

"No." Evelyn rubbed a hand across her shoulder. "We didn't last that long. Just long enough for Steven to find out, really."

Buxton cleared his throat. "Could this fella have killed your ex-husband?"

"Eric?" Evelyn checked her fingernails. "They're still good friends."

"They're still mates even after your affair?"

"Indeed." Evelyn looked away. "Steven chose his friend over me. He forgave Eric but he never forgave me."

"Any idea why?"

"Steven could be like that." Evelyn stretched out her hands, the fingers pushed as far apart as they'd go. "Eric's in Steven's rugby club. They were thick as thieves, that lot."

"Which club's this?"

"Juniper Green RFC."

"Did either of them still play?"

"No. Steven just wanted to help young kids out, really. He was the treasurer of the club. Last I heard, Eric was the president. Might've been the other way round."

Cullen made a note. Eric Young was worthy of more detailed attention than the cursory checks of the street team. "Anyone else at this rugby club?"

Evelyn stared into space for a few seconds. "There's Donald Ingram, I suppose. He was president or something a few years ago." She rummaged in her purse, getting out her phone. "Here are their numbers."

Cullen noted them both down. "That's all you can think of?"

"Listen, I suggest you speak to Eric."

"Fine." Cullen glanced at Nelson, now lost in the contents of a document.

Evelyn picked at her sleeve. "Steven and Eric weren't just rugby club mates. They ran a business together."

Cullen rolled his eyes. What the hell? "Why didn't tell us that earlier?"

"I'm not thinking straight. Steven's dead!"

"How long have they been in business?"

"Five years, I think. At least."

"So before your divorce?"

"Aye."

"Is it possible Mr Young could've killed Steven?"

Evelyn twisted her head to the side, her eyebrows raised. "I don't see why he would."

Cullen took a deep breath. Why indeed. "Okay. That's all for now."

"I can go?"

"Not yet. DI Methven will want someone else to speak to you about the attack on him."

Chapter 8

"Give me a call. Thanks." Cullen pocketed his phone. "No answer from Ingram."

Buxton collected their coffees and led away from the counter, handing one to Cullen, before making for the stairwell. "You think she's involved in this?"

"Evelyn? Doubt it." Cullen started down the stairs, careful not to spill the coffee. "I doubt she'd be capable of tearing out the guy's fingernails. Might chip her own."

"Good point." Buxton took a sip through the lid. "Why does Methven need another update from us? We just saw him out in Juniper Green."

"You know what Crystal's like, right? Micromanagement to the nth degree."

"Don't I just."

"Let's get this update done before we head out to speak to this Young boy, okay?"

Buxton nodded. "How's the hangover?"

"Fucking shite."

"Watch it with the swearing, Sundance."

"Stop it,
Budgie
."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Just a shame I can't call you Britpop since you lost the Weller coconut." Cullen waited inside the door at the bottom of the stairs. He reached over and ruffled Buxton's hair, rock hard from the tub or so of gel he'd used to cement the side parting.

Buxton dodged away from his hands, putting a few paces between them. "Fuck off!"

Cullen tried to rub the gel off his fingers. Failed. "That's a Hitler hairdo." He put his finger to his top lip. "You just need a toothbrush moustache and you'd look like Hitler."

"Shit. The barber called it a 'disconnected pompadour'." Buxton messed up the side parting, the long hair falling down the front, almost touching his eyebrows. "Fucking hell. I'll need to get a bloody haircut after work. Go back to the skinhead."

"You'll be lucky - it's Christmas Eve."

"Yeah, right. It'll have to be a set of clippers out of Argos." Buxton opened the door to their floor and walked through the open plan area.

As they approached, Cullen spotted Methven in the glass-fronted meeting room. Buxton entered first, leaving the door for Cullen.

Methven stood at the whiteboard, DS Rarity and DC Angela Caldwell were sitting at the meeting room table. The place reeked of marker pen and the heating was at full volume.

Cullen sat next to Angela, smiling at her before looking at Methven. "Thought you were at the post mortem, sir?"

"It's not started yet. Means I've had time to get this applied." Methven patted the large pack of white gauze taped to his cheek as he jangled change in his pocket. "I'm throwing the sodding book at her for this. I doubt she'll get a custodial sentence but a healthy fine would be ideal." He sat at the head of the table and handed out some photographs of Steven McCoull. "These are from the street team, should come in handy. Now, what happened in the interview?"

Cullen got out his notebook, shoving a couple of photos in the flap at the back. "Got a couple of leads for you, sir. First, they were divorced and it looks like it was her fault. Had an affair with his mate from the rugby, who also happens to be their next-door neighbour. Guy called Eric Young."

Methven stared at Rarity. "Has the street team been in with him?"

Rarity nodded slowly. "They have."

Cullen smiled. "And did he say anything to them?"

"Nothing of note." Rarity went through a set of papers, a skinny hand brushing back her mousy brown hair to reveal grey roots. "Said they were friends. Didn't see anything last night. Nothing about sleeping with his wife."