Cowboys and Indians (15 page)

‘Two years and he didn’t fuckin’ make it, though.’ Bain laughed. ‘Your boyfriend’s shite, Sundance.’

‘Times have been tough. They didn’t replace me when I got this DS gig.’

‘Aye, that’s cos that prick Turnbull nicked it off McCrea.’

‘It’s not all bad. He took a stripe off you.’

‘Shut it.’ Bain sneered at him. ‘Buxton’s your mate. How are you going to handle that?’

‘I’ll treat everyone fairly.’

‘Can’t believe he’s getting away with pulling this sort of clown shite.’

‘Take it you’re not getting on well with him?’

‘Methven’s a fuckin’ arsehole, pure and simple. Running around pretending he knows what he’s fuckin’ doing. Told him last night I’ve got fifteen years as a DI if he wants any coaching.’

‘How’d he take that?’

Bain picked up his coin. ‘Told me to go home.’

‘How do you feel about your demotion?’

‘Shut it.’

‘Come on. He was behind it, not Turnbull.’

‘I asked for it, you know.’

‘Bollocks.’

‘I’m fed up of the politics, Sundance. I just want to solve cases. Likes of Methven are welcome to play
Game of fuckin’ Thrones
.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘DS wage plus overtime’s enough for me. Got my pension locked in at the DI rate and got them to include my OT.’

‘Wonders’ll never cease.’

Bain looked at the counter. ‘Right, that fuckin’ battleaxe’s gone on her break.’

*
 
*
 
*

Donna Nichols looked up from her interview pack, eyes lined. Hair in a bun, trouser suit. ‘Can you describe a time when you’ve had to take on a leadership position?’

PC Helen Armitage let her eyes wander around the room. Dark hair, severe glare. Clenched jaw. Perfume, something generic. Lots of it. ‘Okay. I worked six months as ADC in DS McMann’s team. There were a few times when he asked me to give the status update at DI Lamb’s morning briefing.’

Cullen jotted down a few words.
No leadership skills shown.
‘I see on your record how you were arrest—’

‘I’m asking the questions, Sergeant.’ Donna smiled at Armitage. ‘How often was this?’

*
 
*
 
*

Cullen drummed his fingers on the table. ‘PC Buxton, why aren’t you wearing your uniform?’

Buxton flashed a frown. ‘Because I’ve been seconded to work plainclothes in the MIT.’

‘Before we go through the competency-based part of the interview, can you tell us why you think you’re suited for the DC role?’

‘I had two years as an ADC in DSI Turnbull’s Edinburgh Major Investigation Team.’

‘But that’s only been in operation since April last year.’

‘That’s right. Nine months in the MIT. Fifteen in Lothian and Borders CID.’

‘Why didn’t you get a full tenure?’

‘There was a reorganisation and austerity cuts.’ Buxton cleared his throat, the frown deepening. ‘My record’s solid.’

*
 
*
 
*

Donna smiled across the table, eyes cold. ‘PC Allison, can you outline how working for traffic makes you suitable for a detective role?’

‘Aye, eh.’ Ginger-haired, mouth slack and open with his tongue hanging out. A few spots dotted around his acne scars. He coughed. Sniffed. ‘I deal with a lot of crimes and, eh, manage my caseload.’

*
 
*
 
*

Will Traynor was barely twenty but stubble dotted his bald skull. At least six foot six. ‘Does that answer the question?’

Cullen sat back in his chair and glanced at Donna, shaking her head. He smiled at Traynor. ‘That’s fine. Do you have any questions for us?’

Traynor got to his feet. ‘That’s good, eh?’

Cullen nodded. ‘Thanks for your time.’ The door wobbled shut. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Donna clicked her pen and dropped it on her interview pack. ‘What a shower.’

‘Buxton’s the clear favourite.’

‘You think?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I’m not sure about his record. Two years as ADC is a long period without full tenure.’

‘It’s a lot of valid experience in a trying time. Shows commitment.’

‘The first one impressed me the most.’ Donna shuffled through the papers. ‘PC Armitage.’

‘She’s got a criminal record.’

‘Which we addressed when she joined the force eight years ago.’

‘I don’t think she even passed the interview, let alone deserves a full tenure. Can’t imagine having her in my team.’

‘PC Buxton worked for you, didn’t he?’

‘That doesn’t stop me recommending him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll send an email to the board when I get back to my desk.’

‘Sergeant, we’re interviewing three more candidates tomorrow.’

‘Think I’ve stretched my stomach.’ Cullen pushed his plate away across the table, red lasagna grease glistening, and nudged the china against the hard wood tray. ‘That was too much for lunch.’

Sharon looked up from her own plate as she speared a shard of iceberg with her fork. ‘You could’ve had a salad.’

‘Should’ve done.’

She bit into the lettuce. ‘How’s your morning been?’

‘Interviews. Buxton was the best candidate by a country mile, but—’

‘But you’re sponsoring him and you need to be impartial?’

‘That.’

‘I’m sure you’ll sort something out.’ She chewed on the iceberg. ‘Methven’s given me some more of your time. Another victim interview at three o’clock.’

‘Jesus Christ. I’ve got my own caseload as well as these bloody interviews.’

‘He didn’t seem to mind.’

‘Why me?’

‘Rhona’s in hospital. Maternity check. She did get clattered on Saturday night.’

Cullen reached across the table to caress her hand. ‘You okay about that?’

‘She’s had more sexual offences interview training than you, so of course I’m not happy.’

‘I meant about her going for a check on her baby.’

She sipped her coffee. ‘I’ll talk when I’m ready, Scott.’

‘You used to get on at me for not talking about what happened with Keith and Mandy and … Alison.’

‘And you talked. Well done. You don’t have to change Fluffy’s cat litter for the next month. Happy?’

He glanced around the canteen at the healthy-eating slogans, then at her blouse, arms lost in baggy fabric. ‘We should’ve swapped lunches.’

Sharon’s fork clunked to the plate. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You’re getting too thin.’

‘Is that why you don’t want to fuck me?’

He shut his eyes and rubbed them. Then stared at her. ‘Of course I still want to … make love to you.’

‘You sound like a Barry White B-side.’

‘I want to make love
with
you.’ Another glance at her arms. ‘It’s just … I’m worried about you.’

‘I’m glad somebody is.’

‘Look, I’m being serious. I want you to talk about losing a baby.’

‘It’s not that, Scott.’ Water welled in her eyes. ‘That’s not all there is.’

‘Are you keeping something from me?’

She looked away, gasping against the tears. ‘No.’

‘Come on, Sharon. Be honest with me.’

She wiped the back of her hand across her face. ‘Not here.’

‘Let’s get a meeting room. Or go to a pub or sit in your car.’

‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘Look. I want to talk to you about what’s going on. We
need
to.’

She grabbed his hands, wrapping her fingers around them, cold and clammy. ‘Let’s go out for dinner tonight.’

Cullen frowned. ‘Like a date night?’

She laughed. ‘I hate the term, but aye.’

‘It’s a deal.’

‘Remember, room three at three.’ She checked her watch, the face rattling round to the back of her wrist. ‘You’ve got an hour.’

*
 
*
 
*

‘Let me get this straight.’ Cullen leaned back in the chair and stared at the meeting room ceiling. Not one of Leith Walk’s best rooms. He shut his eyes for a second, let out a breath, and looked at the team, one by one. Eva, Buxton, Jain. ‘I’ve been flat out all morning and you’re telling me we’re no further on?’

Jain undid her scrunchy, her hair dropping to her shoulders. She ran a hand through it. ‘We can’t all be super cops like you, Scott.’

‘It looks like you’ve waited till teacher’s out of the room to start mucking about.’

‘We’ve been busy all morning,
Sarge
.’ Jain glanced at Eva, then Buxton. ‘Everything on this case is blocked. One wee step forward, then we can’t get any further forward for a week. You know how it is.’

‘Do I?’ Cullen folded his arms. ‘Right, what’s your biggest problem?’

Eva gave a smile. ‘Charlie sent me the Schoolbook stuff. There’s no fresh leads from any of it.’

‘What are you telling me?’

‘Here we go again.’ Jain tossed her pen on the table with a clatter. ‘The only thing we got is a Google+ account. It’s a stub because of his Gmail account.’

‘Have you requested the Gmail account?’

‘Need a warrant for it.’

‘So, have you asked for one?’

‘I was waiting for you.’

‘Chantal, can you take it up with DI Methven for me?’

She picked up the pen, clicking it and scrawling a note. ‘Fine.’

Cullen focused on Eva, mainly to avoid looking at Jain, his ears burning. ‘What else?’

‘I’ve got the mobile bills from Tommy Smith. Started going through them, but there’s nothing of note so far.’

‘Keep going.’

‘The drugs are still stalled.’ Jain stared at her notebook. ‘I spoke to Owen and we agreed you and Anderson still need to have a chat.’

‘I’ll get round to it. What about the bank accounts?’

Eva shrugged. ‘Still waiting for the details from the City cops.’

‘“Details” is a bit vague.’

‘He’s got a list of possibles. Needs me to get security clearance so I can look at them.’

‘So do it.’ Cullen waited for Jain to look at him. ‘Chantal, can you help out with that?’

‘Right,
Sarge
.’

Cullen nodded at Buxton. ‘You’ve been quiet.’

‘Had something to do this morning, as you know.’

Cullen switched his focus between them, sucking in a deep breath. ‘Come on, guys. I need more application from the three of you.’

Jain arched a plucked eyebrow. ‘Is that us dismissed?’

Cullen let out a sigh. ‘Fine.’

Jain stormed off, Eva following close behind.

Buxton stayed. ‘You should’ve warned me.’

Cullen looked over at him. ‘About me interviewing you?’

‘No, about Chantal and Eva having a lesbian fling.’ Buxton shook his head. ‘Of course I meant about the interview. Why didn’t you tell me it was with you?’

Cullen ground his teeth, one of the molars spearing pain. He winced. ‘Because Crystal threw me into it.’

‘This morning?’

‘Last night.’

Buxton folded his arms. ‘You definitely should’ve told me, mate.’

‘Look, Si, I’ve got to be professional here, okay? He told me to make sure the right candidate gets in.’

‘So it’s not me. Great.’

‘I didn’t say that. I need to show complete impartiality.’

‘It’s going to be that bird in McMann’s team, right? Helen.’

‘I’m recommending you.’ Cullen leaned across the table. ‘The other three were bloody awful.’

Buxton exhaled, smiling. ‘Thanks, mate. That’s great to hear.’

‘There are more interviews tomorrow.’

‘Hope they’re all shit.’ Buxton stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘You coming?’

Cullen winked. ‘Just the way I’m sitting.’

‘Jesus Christ, you sound more and more like Bain by the day.’ Buxton left the room, shoving the door open.

‘Just a sec, Si.’

‘What?’

‘Are you getting anywhere with Candy?’

‘Picked it up again after the interview. Halfway through all ten lappies in Edinburgh city centre. No sign of her.’

‘Let me know as soon as you find anything.’

‘Of course.’ Buxton stormed off down the corridor.

The joys of rank.

Cullen felt the flutter of his phone in his pocket and fished it out. Text from Rich.
Who’s the barbarian you sent after me?

Cullen replied.
You’ve got to stop printing this stuff. I’m in the shit here.

His phone buzzed again.
I’m saving my job, mate. Desperate times and all that.

Bloody hell. He tapped out another text —
Who’s your source?
— And waited for a reply, eyes locked on the mobile. He gave up after thirty seconds.

Who was giving him this stuff?

*
 
*
 
*

Sharon stopped outside interview room three, the light above flickering. ‘I’m leading here, okay? You’re just supporting.’

Cullen squinted against the broken strip light. ‘You sure you need a DS for this?’

‘I need someone competent. DC Lindsay hasn’t proven himself yet. Don’t start me on McKeown.’

‘You can have Chantal Jain.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘She’s getting right on my tits.’

‘Don’t make that formal, because I will take her.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ Cullen opened the door and stopped, frowning.

Kyle Graham hunched over the side of the table, hugging his arms around his torso.

Cullen spun round. ‘Thought you let him go?’

‘We did.’ Sharon entered the room, taking the chair opposite Graham. She pressed record. ‘Interview commenced at fifteen oh four on Tuesday the twentieth of May, 2014. Present are myself, Acting DI Sharon McNeill, and DS Scott Cullen. Also present is Kyle Graham.’

Graham didn’t look up, staying focused on the table. ‘I don’t need a lawyer for this, right?’

‘Mr Graham, this is an interview to determine the events of last night. Thanks for agreeing to meet us.’

‘I want you to catch this guy.’

Sharon smiled at Graham, eyebrows inverted. ‘We’re trying our hardest.’

Wasted on him, his eyes now shut.

‘Please take us through what happened last night.’

‘After you let me go, Beth and I went for a meal. I bumped into a couple of my mates.’

Cullen looked up from his notebook. ‘What were their names?’

‘Brian Craig and Will Hart.’