Fire in the Blood (Scott Cullen Mysteries) (7 page)

Bain's eyes settled on Cullen. "How's it goin' in the National Library of Scotland there?" he asked, pointing at the ancient ledgers.

Cullen had taken the full collection from Crombie, stretching back to the pre-Dunpender illicit still days. He had only had to focus on the last two, but he wanted to make it appear like he'd been busier than he actually was.

"Tough going," said Cullen. "The system they used was pretty weird. Took me about an hour to get my head around it, and I had to look back to the earliest ledgers. At some point in the forties, they decided to make the system indecipherable to the common man, but I think I've cracked it."

"You think?"

"Well, I spoke to both Fraser Crombie and Doug Strachan about it," said Cullen. "They did most of the data entry in the computerisation, so they know how the system works."

"Long and short of it, Sundance," said Bain, visibly losing patience.

"First things first," said Cullen, "there is no trace of the two barrels. They're not in any records in 1994."

"What about earlier or later?"

Cullen ignored him. "Second, I found a loss of 780 litres of whisky in 1994," he said. "In response to your question, I'd say it's unlikely that the barrels were from earlier than 94 as there wasn't the whisky to fill them with."

"And this 780 litres would do it?" asked Bain.

"Strachan told me that a barrel would contain 650 litres," said Cullen. "Having a body in there would only need about a hundred to a hundred and fifty litres to fill it, according to Anderson."

"But we don't know that it was actually filled in 1994?" asked Bain.

"It's highly likely," said Cullen, "but it's only an assumption at this point. We've got the distinct possibility that the whisky was stored somewhere and then used before they discovered it. It's less likely but not something we should get rid of."

Bain grinned. "Good effort for once, Sundance," he said. "Were there any suspicious splashes of whisky at any point?"

"Nobody's mentioned any," said Cullen.

"Have you asked?"

"Not directly," admitted Cullen.

"Well, let's ask tomorrow," said Bain. "I'll get one of those two Haddington jokers onto it." He checked his watch. "Either of you two fancy a pint?"

Caldwell shook her head. "Some megalomaniac has asked me to finish looking through some files by 9am tomorrow," she said.

Bain laughed. "Who said 9am?" he asked. "Briefing is at eight in Garleton."

"Great," she muttered.

Bain looked at Cullen. "Wee swally, Sundance?" he asked.

"I wanted to write up my report from today," said Cullen, "keep on top of the paperwork."

"Fine," said Bain, sounding a bit pissed off. "Bottle of Peroni out of Tesco it is, then."

He got up and slowly walked towards the central stairwell. Once he was out of sight, Caldwell looked over at Cullen.

"Thought you'd already written your notes up?" she asked.

Cullen laughed. "Of course I have," he said, "but there's no way I'm going for a pint with him. Besides, I might be able to catch the second half of Poland-Russia in the Euros."

"
He
's been talking all year about spending three weeks watching football," she said, referring to her husband Rod, who she never referred to by name, just
he
or
him
.

"You not heading back out to East Lothian to see lover boy then?" asked Cullen.

"That's not even funny," she said, scowling. "I'll see you out there tomorrow, first thing. No need to pick me up."

"Very convenient," he said, getting to his feet.

"Scott, I'm serious," she said, "stop joking about this. It's not funny."

Cullen suddenly felt bad. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

She gave a deep breath. "It's not going well, put it that way," she said.

"Are you talking about the promotion?"

She closed her eyes. "Yes, Scott," she said. "Think of it that way."

Cullen was sitting in the hall in the shared flat he lived in, sipping from a can of Staropramen, a string of adverts filling the wall-mounted TV screen. Rather than have a living room, the flat had a large open area in the hall that they used as a living room, with TV and hi-fi and a large dining table. It wasn't how Cullen would choose to furnish a flat, but he'd got used to it over the years he'd lived there.

His flatmate, Tom Jameson sat next to him, fiddling with his iPad.

"More comics, is it?" asked Cullen.

Tom let out a sigh. "Wish I'd never told you," he said. "I'd kept it a secret long enough…"

"It's not healthy keeping secrets, comic boy," said Cullen.

Tom clicked his iPad screen off. "And here was me thinking that it was good to actually be able to spend time with my oldest buddy," he said.

Cullen smiled and took another drink. He and Sharon had been talking about moving in together but he'd not mentioned it to Tom - he decided to keep it quiet until it was definitely going to happen. A school friend of Cullen's - Richard McAlpine - had moved in just before Christmas, but Tom and Rich didn't get on. Cullen felt guilty, but they were all in their 30s now, so it was their own responsibility.

The TV went back to the studio, four middle-aged men in open-necked shirts and casual suits sitting vaguely near a football stadium that was virtually two countries away from the stadium that was actually hosting the match they'd just watched. Tom put the volume back on and listened to the chat for a few minutes.

"Did you see all the press at the weekend?" asked Tom. "They were saying that Arshavin was having a great tournament but it was
just one game
. He was pish tonight."

He was referring to the Russia - what? Midfielder? Attacker? Striker? Winger? Cullen struggled to place the small Arsenal player in a particular position, something that his club and country managers struggled with. He'd been poor that evening, remarkably different to his form against … Cullen couldn't remember who Russia had played in the first match. "Who was it they were playing the other night?" he asked.

Tom scowled at him. "Very funny," he said.

"Eh?"

"You know full well not to mention that."

Cullen held up his hands. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Russia beat the Czech Republic," said Tom.

"Oh," said Cullen, suddenly realising his mistake. Tom had got into a diatribe the other night about how Scotland should have qualified in their place, which they would have done except for one infamous night in Prague where the Scotland manager fielded no attacking players.

"Tell you, Scotty," said Tom, "if it wasn't for that bloody 4-6-0 formation, we'd have been there."

"
You
wouldn't," said Cullen.

"Course I would," said Tom. "I'd have loved seeing the boys at a national final."

"I don't think you'd have bothered your arse," said Cullen.

Tom sighed. "Whatever."

"If you'd gone," said Cullen, "it would have been Scotland getting turned over by Russia, not the Czech Republic."

The TV switched to a trailer for the Spain vs Ireland match on Thursday.

"Odds on favourites now," said Tom. "Spain by a country mile."

Cullen let out a breath. "I'm so
bored
of them, though," he said. "I hope Germany or Italy tear them apart. This tiki taka shite is so boring."

"Eh?"

"Come on, Tom," said Cullen. "Their first match they copied Craig Levein's favourite philosophy of no strikers. All they do is pass the ball five yards. I'm so fed up of it."

"You are such a cynical bastard," said Tom, shaking his head. "It's beautiful."

Cullen finished his can. "Aye, well," he said, "it's a better way to be."

Tom got up and walked over to his room. He returned a moment later carrying a bottle of whisky.

Cullen only realised as Tom sat it down that it was a bottle of Dunpender. He got up. "I'm off to bed," he said. "Early start."

"Suit yourself," said Tom, pouring a healthy measure into a glass he'd drunk water from earlier.

Cullen went to his room wishing that Sharon wasn't working that night.

 
Wednesday
13
^th
June 2012

Cullen parked on the high street just outside Garleton police station.

Garleton was a small town just south of Haddington in East Lothian. Cullen had been based there for a couple of days just under six months earlier and knew it a bit too well. It was the closest town to Dunpender that had a working police station, and so Bain had gone there to acquire an Incident Room. Cullen speculated that Bain would try for as much E Division resource that he could grab before the local DI caught up with him.

The car in front of him - another, newer Golf - flashed its headlights at him. Cullen clocked DC Murray and waved. He turned off the engine and got out, hoping that the central locking behaved itself again. Cullen spotted Caldwell's Fiesta over the other side of the road - he constantly wondered how she managed to fit in it. He knew that he would be struggling, and she was at least two inches taller than him.

"Morning," said Cullen.

"Glad I didn't have to drive out here from town," said Murray.

"Well, hopefully someday soon the tables will be turned," said Cullen.

"I seriously hope that we nail this today," said Murray. "I cannot be arsed with Bain for much longer."

Murray led them in, signing Cullen in at the front desk. While Murray was based in nearby Haddington, his remit, and that of his DS, covered Garleton as well.

"I've been thinking," said Murray.

"I wouldn't do that," said Cullen, "it's over-rated."

Murray laughed. "Do you think that it is Iain Crombie in the barrel?" he asked, as they walked along the decrepit ground floor corridor.

"Doesn't look like it's him," said Cullen. "The dates don't match and his old man insists it's not him."

"The thing is, the only other option is this Paddy boy," said Murray, "and that's all gone quiet. They were supposed to get back to me but they haven't."

"Who were?"

"That's the thing," said Murray. "Got a couple of prospects in Strathclyde and Grampian and some over in Ireland, but I'm getting nowhere with it. Do you think Bain would let me go pay a visit?"

"Not to Ireland," said Cullen, smiling.

"I meant Glasgow or Aberdeen," said Murray.

"You might not get a choice in the matter," said Cullen.

They climbed the stairs and spotted a friendly face at the top. Leaning against the wall, chatting to Caldwell, was Murray's DS, Bill Lamb. Lamb had been firing into Caldwell during Cullen's previous stint in Garleton and she had been cagey over the matter ever since. Cullen couldn't quite remember the detail, but he recalled that Lamb had asked her out and she'd declined, given her marital status of
married
.

The pair of them quickly separated when they spotted Cullen and Murray approach.

"What's going on here, then?" asked Cullen, smiling.

"Nothing," said Caldwell, blushing.

"Aye, right," said Cullen. He offered his hand to Lamb. "Nice to see you, Bill. Tell me they've not paired you up with Bain again?"

"No such luck," said Lamb, shaking Cullen's hand. "Got a new DC started in the station, supposed to focus on North Berwick, Garleton, Gullane and the surrounding area. I'm just helping him do the rounds and introduce him to the usual faces."

"Strangely enough you managed to do the rounds when ADC Caldwell was in the station," said Cullen.

Lamb laughed it off but Caldwell's eyes were burning into him. "One of those things," he said. "I lost Eva Law recently, you know. She's gone to St Leonard's."

Cullen felt a pang of guilt - she'd been all over him at one time. He'd had to let her down, and not particularly gently. She was attractive and seemed to be at the more competent end of the spectrum - he just hoped that he wasn't to blame for her decision, or worse that she was heading into Edinburgh to be nearer him. He tried to keep calm and not blush.

"My Acting DC tenure was at St Leonard's," said Cullen. "I'll put in a good word for her."

"Oh, I'm sure she'd
really
appreciate that," said Caldwell.

"Did she make full DC?" asked Cullen, ignoring Caldwell.

Lamb smiled. "She did," he said, stroking his moustache with his fingers, while his thumb rubbed at the triangle of beard below his lips. "She was too good for us, though, good luck to her."

"Hey, watch it," said Murray.

"You know what I mean," said Lamb, laughing. He looked at Murray. "I need an update from you on that assault in Gullane, by the way. Webster's after an update."

Lamb's DI - Sandra Webster - was notorious throughout the force.

"Aye, well," said Murray, "I'm a bit caught up with this. You'll need to get her to speak with Bain."

"Like that's going to happen," said Lamb, grimacing. He looked at Cullen. "Remember that Stuart's got his own caseload."

"Don't we all," said Cullen. "We'd best get on. I don't want you and Bain seeing each other in the corridor."

Lamb laughed. "I've heard his voice already," he said, "and that's the closest that I'm getting."

"I'll catch you up," said Caldwell, raising an eyebrow.

Cullen and Murray went along the corridor, leaving Lamb and Caldwell to finish their chat.

"Bill is obsessed with her," said Murray.

"Not as obsessed as her husband," said Cullen.

"That's not what Bill says," said Murray.

Cullen stopped outside the Incident Room that Bain's text message had pointed them to. He glanced backwards - Caldwell had moved closer to Lamb. "Has he been seeing her, do you know?" he whispered.

"He wouldn't really say," said Murray. "He can be quite cagey about that sort of thing."

"Either way," said Cullen, "he better watch what he's doing."

Murray grinned. "Are you jealous?"

Cullen laughed it off. "Hardly," he said. "I'm in a relationship. Trouble is that Angela is my responsibility for the next month until she's a full DC. I want to stop her making a big mistake."