Windchill (7 page)

"I still think it's a possibility he met someone on his way back to Juniper Green." Methven faced the board again, drawing new connections between the boxes. "We know he left the Living Room on his own at the back of eight but was spotted outside his house with someone at quarter to nine."

"Hang on." Cullen rifled through his notebook. "Alistair Walker said he saw a taxi coming down the hill when he got back around that time."

"So the taxi driver could've seen whoever he was with?"

Cullen folded his arms. "Maybe."

"So what do we know about this companion, Constable?"

"Nothing, sir. That's where the barman's statement runs out. It's possible McCoull got a cab home but we've got nothing confirmed by any means. He could've picked this person up on George Street, somewhere on the way home or met him in Juniper Green."

"Buggering hell." Methven slapped the cap of the pen back on. "We need to find the taxi driver and we're not going to get anything out of them today of all days."

"I'll get someone onto it." Rarity made a note in her pad. "See if we can get
something
."

"Thanks, Catriona." Methven tossed the pen onto the meeting room table. "The sodding press release isn't going out till Friday given the holidays. I'll need to speak to Jim Turnbull about this, see if we can expedite matters."

"Best of luck with that." Cullen shut his notebook, hoping the meeting was over.

Methven looked at the board for a few seconds. "So, given what we have here, what do we reckon?"

Cullen thought it through for a few seconds. "I'm thinking it could be Eric Young. He had an affair with McCoull's wife.
He'll be able to buy out the other half of the business now, I'd imagine."

Methven tapped on
McCoull
on the whiteboard. "Do we know who stands to inherit Mr McCoull's estate?"

Cullen shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, sir."

"Can you look into it?"

"Will do." Cullen leaned back in his chair, tensing himself to stand up. "I take it Evelyn McCoull is still downstairs?"

"She's not been charged with this yet to the best of my knowledge." Methven patted his gauze. "Why do you ask?"

"She's not in the clear for her husband's murder."

"I know that. She's not exactly in the frame, either." Methven fiddled with the tape securing his bandage. "Catriona, can you arrange for someone to interview her again?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

Methven frowned at Angela. "While we're on the subject, how's your investigation into Mrs McCoull going?"

Angela picked up another sheet of paper. "Nothing on house ownership, nothing on the life insurance."

Methven clapped his hands together. "Oh well. Thanks for trying, Constable."

"Anything else you need from us, sir?" Cullen got to his feet, his dry mouth needing at least a litre of water. "We're supposed to be in the pub."

Methven looked past him. "ADC Buxton, I want you to head downstairs to the CCTV suite." He switched to Angela. "You can go once the report from HMRC turns up." Then Rarity. "Catriona, I'll let you decide when you want to leave." Finally, Cullen. "I want a private word with you."

"What about?"

Methven looked at the other officers before scowling at Cullen. "Regarding your appraisal, Constable."

Chapter 13

Cullen sat in Bollocking Corner, looking across the canteen at the darkness outside, white and red lights stationary on Leith Walk. Someone had burnt a pot of filter coffee again. He checked his watch - just after four. Roll on summer or at least a hot island in January.

"Here we go." Methven sat next to him, accidentally jostling his knee as he pushed a coffee across the table to Cullen. "You look like you could do with one."

"Cheers." Cullen lifted off the lid to let it cool. He tried to be subtle as he took a sniff; this wasn't part of the burnt lot.

"We've needed to do a one-to-one for a while now, Constable."

"I don't see why I can't just do it with DS Rarity."

"You're fully cognisant of Superintendent Turnbull asking me to make sure your career development sits with me and not Catriona." Methven took a sip of scalding coffee, gasping as he set the cup back down. "Do I need to go and inform him of the fact we haven't had a single one yet?"

"No, that's fine." Cullen blew on his coffee but didn't take a sip. What a twat. This was as much about Methven's development. "Can we get on with it?"

"Very well. I appreciate we're in the middle of a case, but I'm not aware of any pressing activities currently requiring your attention, so it's important to round off this year ensuring the paperwork is in order."

"Shouldn't we be doing this in an office, sir?"

"If there was one free, Constable, yes."

"Okay."

"Excellent. We'll get to the formalities soon, but I want to have a word with you first, if that's okay?"

"As if I've got a choice."

Methven's eyebrows sunk down to almost cover his eyes. "Cullen, we took a huge gamble giving you Acting DS duties late last year."

"And then you busted me back to DC. No need to rub my face in it."

"What's this about?"

Cullen folded his arms. "You know I should be a full DS by now."

"We've been over this. It's up to you to show you're capable of doing it again."

"You know full well I
can
do it again. Give me it now and I'll prove it."

"I remain to be convinced."

"Why?"

"Well, while you've got a very strong arrest record, you don't seem to be much of a team player, shall we say."

"Maybe I need a better team, sir."

"That's something DCI Cargill and I are actively working on with Jim Turnbull. The calibre of officer we inherited left a lot to be desired." Methven took another sip of coffee. "What I mean, Constable, is I need you to show a lot more maturity on duty."

"In what way, sir?"

"For starters, at official functions."

"I don't recall having been invited to any official functions. I'm just a lowly constable, as you keep reminding me."

"Sodding hell." Methven put both hands around his coffee cup. "You made a bit of a tit of yourself at the Christmas party last night, didn't you?"

"That was nothing." Cullen focused on the swirling steam coming from the pitch black surface of his coffee. "Superintendent Turnbull was as bad as I was."

"Superintendent Turnbull didn't do what you did."

Cullen tugged at his hair. "Excuse me?"

"You know full well what you did, Cullen. It's completely unacceptable behaviour."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"You're not sure?" Methven glowered at him. "The state you were in, I'm not surprised. I saw you entering the ladies' toilet."

Cullen nodded slowly, his heart pounding. What was Methven after? How much did he see? "I was drunk, sir. You're right, it shouldn't have happened."

"You're bloody right it shouldn't." Methven took an experimental sip of coffee before wiping his lips with his hands. "I've heard rumours you urinated in a sink."

"Those rumours would be incorrect, sir. I got confused by those symbols on the toilet doors down there, I can't tell them apart."

Methven put the lid back on his cup, eyes locked on Cullen. "I'm afraid you'll need to come in tomorrow to progress this case."

"Are you kidding me?" Cullen raised his eyes to the ceiling. "First, you drag me in on a day of confirmed annual leave and now this?"

"Constable, I'm afraid I've got an unavoidable family commitment."

"How do you know I don't have one?"

"I know you don't, Cullen, because you sodding told me just before you entered the ladies' toilet!" Methven pushed his coffee cup away, eyes narrowed at Cullen. "You were just planning on spending the whole day drinking, weren't you?"

"I was going to spend it with DS McNeill, sir."

Methven shut his eyes for a few seconds. "You and I have had conversations about your drinking before, haven't we?"

Cullen sighed. "We have, yes."

"Well, I don't appreciate cheeky little jokes at briefings about you wanting to head to the pub. You're a police officer. You cannot let alcohol take over your life."

"I know, sir." Cullen nodded with a little more vigour than intended. "Look, I'm not an alcoholic. I'm a social drinker, that's it."

"I'm not convinced. Look at the state of you."

"We've been over this, sir. I took today off so it wouldn't impact my performance in here. It was your decision to bring me in under duress."

"I acknowledge that." Methven put a hand to his coffee then took a sip. "I want to know why you're behaving like this. If you're a senior officer, you'll have impressionable young officers looking at your behaviour. I need to know this is going to stop."

"Okay. I get it." Cullen put his head in his hands. "You know I've had a few things going on in my private life over the last few months, right?"

"We all do, Constable."

"Do you?"

"Of course. I know what happened with yourself and DS McNeill. It's... unfortunate."

Cullen struggled to swallow back a tear in case a torrent burst forth. Put his teeth together. Tongue to the roof of his mouth. "It's been a bit difficult to process, sir."

"We've all got this sort of thing going on in our private lives, Constable. I need to see you rise above it, okay?"

"Will do."

"There are opportunities forming here. If you want to grasp them, you need to demonstrate you've grown up a bit."

"You know I'm better than most of the sergeants you've got."

"I don't doubt you are. The good thing with Catriona Rarity or Brian McMann is they don't show themselves up to be complete idiots every so often. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Cullen nodded, his teeth clamped together. "I understand where you're coming from, sir."

"And especially not on police nights out." Methven downed the rest of his coffee then crumpled the cup, pushing it to the side. "I'm not in tomorrow and Catriona will have her hands full with the street team so I'm leaving you in charge."

"Oh, come on..."

"Listen, Constable, I'm fed up to the back teeth with you complaining about lack of opportunities. Here's one. Take it. Demonstrate you're not all mouth and no trousers, okay?"

Cullen looked around the room. Hoist by my own petard. He nodded at Methven. "Fine."

"Make sure your little friend Buxton comes in as well. Show me you can lead an investigation."

Cullen felt his guts churn. Happiness or excitement, maybe. Or coffee. "Thanks, sir. Will do."

Methven tugged his chair closer to the table. "Now, have you brought your appraisal form?"

Chapter 14

"There we go." Methven pushed the form back across the table. "Let's have another one of these in three months, okay? I'm not best pleased with having to do this at half past seven on Christmas Eve, but you've left me no choice."

"Okay." Cullen leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "You know I've tried to get time in your diary."

"Drop it, Constable."

"Fine. Are we done here?"

Methven got to his feet. "Yes."

"Happy Christmas, sir."

"You too."

Cullen watched Methven race across the canteen, hand in pocket. He let out a sigh. Glad that's finally over. Two hours he won't get back. He headed to the fridge, looking for a sandwich. Nothing much tempted him. He looked at the counter.

Barbara stood there, fingers dancing across a calculator. She glanced at Cullen. "I've got some bacon in if you don't mind waiting?"

"You're a lifesaver." Cullen grinned as he walked over, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "Surprised you're in today."

"Got to provide Christmas cover, don't we? Mind you, there are still rumours about shutting this place down."

"That'd be a disaster."

"Tell me about it." She glanced to Cullen's right. "I'll just make your roll. Got to cook the bacon from scratch."

"Long as you don't have to kill the pig as well."

"You're one of my favourites." She smiled before wandering off into the kitchen.

"That your next conquest, Sundance?"

Cullen swung round.

DI Brian Bain stood there, arms folded, leaning against the counter. He sniffed, his top lip still bereft of his moustache.

Cullen tightened his grip on his wallet. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Charming." Bain dumped a sandwich on the counter and crossed his arms. "First day back."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"My choice." Bain shrugged. "They're desperate for cover tomorrow and Boxing Day, so I thought fuck it."

"Tell me you're not based through here again?"

"Aye. I am."

"Shite."

Bain laughed. "Should see your face, Sundance."

"You aren't, though, are you?"

Bain looked away. "Bloody DCS Soutar made me come through here to apologise to that fat bastard."

"Who?"

"Don't fuckin' play that game with me, Sundance." Bain ran a hand across his scalp, the salt and pepper stubble now more white than black. "Jim fuckin' Turnbull. Should've seen the state of him - looked like he'd been going pint for pint with you. Fucker was acting like I'm five years of age."

"Right. Well, you were kind of out of order in March."

"No, I fuckin' wasn't. I was cleared of any wrongdoing and you know it."

Cullen nibbled at his bottom lip. "I wish I'd told them the truth about what you were doing."

Bain got in his face. "I was just taking a leaf out of your book, Sundance. Your nice wee cowboy streak always gets results, or so you keep telling people."

"Don't start."

Bain nodded over to Bollocking Corner. "That what Crystal Methven was speaking at you for?"

"You saw that?"

"Been here a while. Found your wee boyfriend downstairs watching home movies, asked him where you were. Told me you'd be up here."

Cullen took a step back, Bain's acrid breath getting too much. "You glad to be back?"

"Beats lying in a fuckin' hospital bed, Sundance." Bain laughed. "Anyway, got out of the whole thing alive. Can't really complain, can I?"