Windchill (6 page)

"There's already a long queue forming."

"I bet there is." Heald led them outside, a bitter smile on his face. He waved the card. "I'll call if anything else comes to mind, okay?"

"Thanks." Cullen watched the door shut then started off down the path towards the pool car. "Not sure that got us anywhere."

"Yeah, me neither." Buxton unlocked the car. "This is weirdsville, mate. And I don't just mean his slippers."

"Welcome to Edinburgh. Old school tie and all that. It'll only get worse if we vote for independence."

"You reckon?"

"Ach, that's probably my hangover talking."

Buxton laughed as they got in the car. "What do you reckon's going on here?"

"I've absolutely no idea, but I don't like that guy."

"Worse than Young?"

"Maybe. I can't stand rugger buggers."

"So, back to Methven then?"

"Guess so. Much as I'd like to go off on one of my wanders, I don't see where else we can go."

Buxton tapped the steering wheel. "What about going to the Living Room to check the story out?" A shrug. "It's on the way."

"Aye, fuck it." Cullen grinned as he tugged the seatbelt on. "You're starting to sound like me."

"Shit."

Chapter 11

Cullen stood staring at the Living Room, a chunk of George Street townhouse given over to style bar boozing. Don't think about last night. A modern extension jutted out from the old stone, the row of windows reminding him of an American diner. "I hate this place."

Buxton frowned. "Quite like it."

"Not my sort of bar."

"What about Tigerlily?"

"That's definitely the last time Chantal Jain books the Christmas do. Cops shouldn't be drinking somewhere like that."

"Wonder if they've cleaned the sink yet."

"Drop it."

Smirking, Buxton flashed his warrant card at the bouncers on the door before entering the bar, shaking his head as they crossed the floor. "Can't believe they've got bouncers on already."

"They'll need them tonight." Cullen looked around the room, the place staffed by a gang of waiters dressed in black uniforms paired with long white aprons. He made for the bar. One of the staff raised an eyebrow and cupped his ear. Cullen flashed his warrant card. "Can we speak to the manager?"

"I'll just get him." He wandered to the back, tapping a burly man on the shoulder and speaking in his ear.

Buxton looked Cullen up and down. "Not getting any flashbacks, are you?"

"Trying to avoid thinking, full stop."

The bar manager came over, dressed in black. His eyebrows were pockmarked by piercings but he'd left the rings out. "Paul Gellatly. Can I help?"

"We need to speak to you about some people who were drinking in here last night."

"What sort of people?"

"It's relating to a murder inquiry, sir."

"Of course. I see." Gellatly took a deep breath before smiling. "Just follow me." He led them through the bar into the extension, finding a free table in the window. "Please, have a seat."

Cullen sat on a long bench and got out his notebook. "We're looking to identify a group of men who were in here last night."

Gellatly sat opposite them on an armchair, fingers rubbing his palms. "Got anything that'll help narrow that down?"

Cullen grinned. "They were from Juniper Green rugby club."

"Oh. Them." Gellatly rolled his eyes. "Aye, they were in. Had a table booking."

"Do you know who seated them?"

"I do, aye. Me. We were short-staffed last night so I had to earn my corn on the floor."

"Can you describe them?"

"They were pretty rowdy." Gellatly tapped the table. "Sat right here, in fact."

"How many people are we talking?"

"I think there were seven of them, maybe eight? I can check the till roll if that would help?"

"It would." Cullen made a note, the ink in his pen starting to dry up. "What time did they get here?"

"Booking was for five, I think. We kicked them out at eleven."

"You mean you set the bouncers on them?"

"No, it was closing time." Gellatly laughed. "Looked like they were heading to a club or a lappy. There were a few times I almost set the bouncers on them but they were big lads, you know? To be fair, they weren't causing much mischief. They were just being loud and obnoxious. I wish they'd keep that for the rugby club. They can be worse than squaddies."

Cullen reached into his pocket to retrieve a photo of McCoull, handing it to Gellatly. "Did you see this man?"

Gellatly took one look at it and nodded. "Aye. I recognise the boy all right."

Cullen retrieved the photo. "So he was with them?"

"Definitely."

"Did you see him leave?"

Gellatly frowned. "Not sure."

"Was it with the others?"

"Can't remember. They left after about the fifteenth rendition of the dirty version of
Alouette
." Gellatly laughed. "
The bigger the cu-
Sorry."

Cullen showed the photo again. "This man definitely left with the others?"

"Think so, aye."

"Well, this is Steven McCoull. He was found dead later on last night."

Gellatly swallowed. "I see."

"We have statements placing him in Juniper Green at somewhere between eight and nine."

Gellatly snatched the photo back. "Now you mention it... It was pretty weird."

"What was?"

"Well, I was collecting glasses from this table and taking an order. They were being a right bloody nightmare." Gellatly shook his head. "Anyway, your boy there must've seen something cos he just got up and left."

"How do you mean?"

"He chucked a twenty on the table and just walked out of the bar."

"Any idea why?"

"None, sorry. His mates thought he was off to the gents' but they didn't notice he'd taken his coat with him." Gellatly let out a breath before rubbing his thinning hair and staring out of the window on the darkening George Street. "Actually, the boy had been looking out of the window for a bit."

"At what?"

"Don't know. Seemed distracted by something."

"Any idea what?"

"No, sorry."

"Girls walking past on the street?"

"Don't think so. It's like that thousand yard stare, you know? Like he was thinking hard about something."

"Right. Was he singing
Alouette
with the others?"

"Up to a point, aye. Then he just didn't. I remember it now. When I took their previous order, he was staring out the window. When I came back twenty minutes later for the next one, he was still at it."

"What time was this?"

"Be about ten past, quarter past eight, maybe?" Gellatly shrugged. "Could've been earlier, I suppose."

"Did you see what he did on the street?"

"Not really. Well, he might've got in a taxi, I suppose. I went back through to the bar, saw one sweeping past not long after he left and I don't recall seeing him out on the street."

"Do you have CCTV recording here?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Gellatly grinned. "I'll get them sent down to you. Where you pair based?"

"Leith Walk station. Cheers." Cullen got to his feet, business card out. "Call me if anything comes up, okay?"

Chapter 12

Methven stood at the whiteboard, arms folded and eyes shut, scowling as Cullen and Buxton sat. "Thanks for joining us."

Cullen shrugged. "Sorry, sir."

Methven snorted. "First things first. The post mortem was par for the course - other than the suspicious items which resulted in us being called out in the first place, there was nothing else to report."

Buxton frowned. "Did they confirm identity?"

"Mrs McCoull provided that." Methven raised a hand to his cheek, patting down the gauze. "Due to the presence of carbon particles in Mr McCoull's lungs, Deeley is adamant he was alive during the early stages of the fire. Additionally, there's a high level of carbon monoxide in his blood, pointing to the fact he died as a result of the smoke rather than as a direct result of the injuries. That said, he did confirm the wounds Mr McCoull sustained perimortem would have otherwise been fatal."

"Was petrol poured on him?" Buxton rocked back in his chair.

"No accelerant was found on the body, Constable." Methven rubbed a line out on the whiteboard pointing to
Forensics
. "The only useful information Mr Anderson and his team have put forward is confirming the fire wasn't a result of a chip pan or anything so ordinary."

"So what did cause it?" Rarity tilted her head to the side.

"The fire service detected signs of an accelerant being used in different locations in the house, both upstairs and downstairs. Four on each floor. Eight in total."

"What was the accelerant, sir?"

"Looks like petrol, though more tests are underway as we speak. Fortunately, the swift actions of the fire service prevented the fire getting out of control and preserved much of the crime scene."

"That's a positive result." Rarity ran her hand through her hair.

"Quite." Methven narrowed his eyes at Cullen. "How have you two fared?"

"Not bad." Cullen flicked open his notebook with a flourish. "We spoke to Eric Young. He reckons it's going to be a bit of a nightmare sorting out the company ownership now McCoull's dead."

"In what way?"

"His shares will go to his estate, I'd imagine."

Methven jotted on the whiteboard -
Estate??
. "Do you think Young is a suspect?"

"Possibly." Cullen raised his hands in the air. "Young did sleep with McCoull's wife."

"I think you're reaching here, Constable." Methven switched his gaze to Angela. "What have you found on the business?"

"Nothing yet. Companies House not getting back to me is the main reason. Well, the only reason."

"I see." Methven jangled change in his pocket. "Did you do any further digging on Mr McCoull?"

Angela got out another sheet of paper. "Still waiting on some reports back from HMRC and Companies House again. I've made myself pretty unpopular on Christmas Eve. Shouldn't be too much longer, mind. I've been chasing them every fifteen minutes."

"Do you expect it back today?"

"I hope so." Angela nodded. "Didn't sound like they had much else on so they were happy to help, just not particularly quick."

"You've earned a good couple of days off." Methven beamed at her. "Leave it with DC Cullen when it turns up."

"Thanks, sir." Angela rolled her eyes, just enough for Cullen to notice.

Cullen turned to Rarity. "Have the door-to-doors turned anything up?"

"Just salacious gossip, really." A shrug. "Nothing we don't already know."

"Did anyone else confirm the story from the neighbour who reported it? A Mr Walker, wasn't it?"

"What, about him seeing Mr McCoull with someone?" Rarity tapped her pen on the tabletop. "Nothing concrete, I'm afraid. A curtain twitcher across the road saw someone with him, but she's not given us anything like a concrete description."

"So we still don't have an ID of his companion?"

"No."

"Okay." Cullen looked at Methven. "Could it be Young?"

Methven frowned. "Doesn't he have an alibi?"

"He does." Cullen raised his shoulders. "He could be lying, though. It's been known to happen."

"What is the alibi?"

"Says he was visiting friends in Linlithgow."

Rarity got out another sheet of paper. "I think we had a statement saying the Young family left home about six o'clock last night."

"That tallies with his story. Said McCoull dropped some Christmas presents off for his kids."

Rarity scowled at her own notebook. "I don't have that."

"Interesting." Cullen checked over the page. "What about coming back from Linlithgow?"

"Their car turned up later on, as per the other statements."

"Okay." Methven added another box to the board,
Young alibi?
. "Let's check it out. Catriona, can you get some of the street team reallocated to checking the CCTV?"

"Will do."

Buxton exhaled. "Thank God it's not me."

"It might be." Rarity winked at him. "Let's just say it's in your best interests to get down to the CCTV suite after this."

"Bloody hell." Buxton stabbed his pen against his notebook. "Sure thing, sarge. I was already heading down there anyway."

Methven jotted an action on the board then stared at Cullen. "What else did you two do? You've been gone a while."

"We spoke to one of the guys McCoull was out drinking with last night. Bloke called Robert Heald. We backed up his statement with a visit to the Living Room afterwards to validate."

Methven scowled. "You mean you went to the pub?"

"We didn't drink anything, sir." Cullen ground his teeth. Cheeky bastard. "Anyway, he left halfway through the evening, quite suddenly according to the guy serving them. He reckons McCoull might've seen something out of the window. We need to speak to the other people he was with."

Buxton raised a hand. "I'll do it."

"Thanks, Simon." Methven drew a box and labelled it
Leaving Bar
. "So he just upped and left last night?"

"That's the exact phrase they used."

"That certainly sounds odd." Methven made another note.
Trigger for leaving?
"So he could've met a random guy in the street and invited him home?"

Cullen frowned. "Are you suggesting this is a gay thing?"

"I wasn't, no." Methven smoothed down his eyebrows for a few seconds. "I was thinking it was maybe one of his friends he'd just bumped into?"

"Not that we know." Buxton flipped forward a few pages. "Yeah, found it. He reckons he left on his own."

"He could've seen someone he knew in the street and invited them back for a few nips of whisky."

Cullen scowled at him. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Used to happen a lot, Constable."

Cullen shrugged. "Must be a generational thing."

Methven gave him a withering look. "Yes, we all know you're usually not particularly
compos mentis
by the time you're instructed to head home."

Cullen clenched his fists under the table. "Look, the guy in the bar said he didn't leave with anyone."