Windchill (27 page)

"Driving's fine."

"Lazy fucker." Buxton chuckled. "So, why do you want to speak to Pauline again?"

"Fifty per cent chance Vardy's up there, right?"

"Suppose. You hoping to catch them at it?"

"Fuck off." Cullen shook his head as he laughed.

The intercom crackled. "Hello?"

Buxton leaned in. "Ms Armstrong, it's the police. Is Pauline there?"

"Aye. She's in the shower just now."

"All the same, can we come up?"

A pause. "Okay." The buzzer sounded.

Buxton pushed open the door and led up the stairs. "What's she still doing here?"

"Would you let a friend stay where her flatmate's just been murdered?"

"Maybe not."

Cullen followed, climbing slowly, phone still to his ear.

"Hey, Scott?" Angela sounded out of breath.

Cullen stopped on the second floor, watching Buxton head up. "You got the journal?"

"Aye, just found it. I thought Simon was supposed to have gone through this?"

"He did. I wanted you to have another look."

"Okay. So...?"

"Look for the initials QP or the phrase Quine Pal. Start at the back."
 

"Okay." Riffling of papers. "Got it. Last entry is for the thirtieth." Long pause. "Bloody hell, this is some dark shit."

"In what way?"

"It's all about blood and knives and dragons and tits."

"About killing someone?"

"Aye. 'The Dark Lord' is the target."

"That's got to be Vardy." Cullen got out his notebook and wrote it down. "What about earlier? Is it always this dark?"

"Okay. Middle of October..." Angela clicked her tongue. "It's all sweetness and light. Stuff about escape with QP."

"That's what Buxton said."

"Right." Pages flipped near the mic. "The death stuff seems to start in December. Actually, the first."

"What's the previous entry?"

"The thirtieth of November. Just says 'Tonight's the night'."

Cullen leaned against the banister and swapped hands. "So something happened then, right?"

"Right. St Andrew's Night."

"The thirtieth? So it is." Cullen stared at the green door opposite. What happened on the thirtieth? Something so bad it changed Keith Lyle's hope into despair, rage and anger, most likely at Dean Vardy. "Did Vardy batter him?"

"Scott, he might've done. What's in this book is flowery gibberish. It's like all writing stuff, you know? Paragraphs of havering nonsense. One of them has 'like something' three times."

"Like a simile?"

"Aye. It hurts my head to read it."

"I feel your pain. I did a degree in English, remember?"

"You poor sod." Angela snorted. "Anything else you want?"

"No, that's cool. I'll see you back at the station."

"I take it you've not found Vardy then?"

"No comment." Cullen hung up the call and started up the stairs again. At the top, the flat door was open, a sliver of light creeping onto the red tiles. He entered. "Hello?"

"Through here." Beth's voice came from the kitchen.

Cullen went through, Buxton sitting opposite her, again leaving Cullen to stand. "You said she's in the shower?"

"Aye. Sounds like she's just got out now." Beth folded her arms. "I was telling your colleague here - she's due into work this evening. I was going to give her a lift."

Buxton smiled as he got out his notebook. "While we're waiting, are you okay to answer some questions?"

"Sure." Beth let her shoulders relax again.

"For starters, how has she been?"

Beth looked outside, dinner preparation activities going on in both bay windows opposite. "Pauline's taken Keith's death pretty bad. I've been looking after her a bit. Driving her to work, listening, that sort of thing. I work at the Deb too, so I can be flexible when I go in."

"She's still staying here, though?"

"She is." Beth took a deep breath. "My flatmate's in Ireland for a month, so it's kind of convenient."

"Has Pauline talked about moving out?"

Beth nodded. "It's on the cards. She asked Dean to see what other flats he's got available."

"How many has he got?"

"I'm not sure."

"So she's not going to move in with him, then?"

"Hardly."

Buxton frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"They've not got that sort of relationship yet, have they?" Beth bit her lip. "Don't get me wrong, Dean comes round a lot and they go out together a fair amount, but he likes his own space. Always has."

"Isn't there anyone else she can stay with? Parents, maybe?"

Beth shrugged. "That's even less likely."

"Was there anything going on between her and Keith?"

Beth scowled at Buxton. "You're kidding, right? Keith and Pauline? No danger, son. Dean would go apeshit if he even got the whiff of any funny business going on. Besides, she was well out of Keith's league. Not to speak ill of the dead, of course."

"Did Mr Lyle see it that way?"

Beth sniffed. "Maybe not."

The kitchen door snuck open and Pauline entered, wearing a dressing gown, her hair damp. She froze when she saw them. "Oh."

Cullen smiled at her. "We wouldn't mind a word with you, if that's okay."

Pauline nodded. "Okay." She squinted at the clock on the microwave. "I've got to get off to my work soon. Beth's taking me."

"We can give you a lift."

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same."

Beth got to her feet and padded over, patting Pauline on the arm. "There's a chilli in the micro for you, Pauls. It just beeped before these two arrived."

Pauline gave a slight smile. "Cheers, babes."

"I'll give you a lift, okay? I'll be in my room." Beth left them to it, leaving the kitchen door wide open.

Cullen waited until the bedroom door clicked shut before starting. "Ms Quigley, we need to speak to Dean Vardy."

Pauline slumped down in the vacated seat, tugging at the long sleeve of her robe. "He's not at the pub?"

"He's not, no."

"Have you tried his flat?"

"We have. No answer."

Pauline ran a hand through her hair. Looked like she'd lost weight over the last week or so, not that she was heavy to start with. Her cheeks had started to sink in and the skin beneath her eyes was dark and blotchy.

Cullen moved so he was between Pauline and the kitchen door, barring her exit. "We wanted to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Mr Lyle."

"We've been over and over this." She looked at the table, bunching her fists up in the fabric of her dressing gown. "There was nothing going on. I swear."

"From your perspective?"

"Of course."

"What about from Keith's?"

"Eh?"

"Did Keith think there might've been anything?"

"No!"

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes!"

Cullen returned to the cooker, leaning against it, the appliance stone cold. "Did you know anything about Keith's journal?"

Pauline sat forward, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I knew he was writing something."

"Did he ever show you it?"

"No."

"Okay. So, you'll know we found it in his room and took it into evidence." Cullen waved over at Buxton. "My colleague here has been through it, you know?"

Buxton smiled at her. "It's quite interesting. It goes from being a very hopeful thing to suddenly full of despair. Seems to change around about St Andrew's Night."

Pauline swallowed, her eyes blinking. "Does it?"

"It does." Cullen clenched his jaw. "Pauline, what happened on St Andrew's Night?"

"Nothing."

"You're sticking to that story, are you?"

"It's the truth!"

"Let's agree something, shall we?" Cullen knelt down in front of her. "If you tell us the whole story, we'll consider dropping any charges regarding you not telling us. Deal?"

Pauline nodded as she shifted even further back in her seat, trying to push herself away. She stared up at the strip light on the ceiling. "Keith tried it on with me on St Andrew's Night."

Cullen got up and pointed a finger at her. "This is the sort of thing I'd have appreciated knowing a week ago."

Pauline shut her eyes. "Look, I'm really sorry."

Cullen nodded at Buxton. "Cuff her."

"No!" Pauline raised her hands. "I swear I didn't mean anything by it!"

"I'm thinking we could do you with perverting the course of justice. What about you, Simon?"

"I'm thinking we could add in withholding evidence."

"Agreed. That's probably enough for a custodial sentence."

Pauline cowered back in the chair, pushing her body tight to the wall, the dressing gown riding up. "Look, please! I didn't think! That's all!"

Cullen screwed up his face, tilting his head to the side. "Really?"

"When I spoke to you, I'd just found Keith's body! I was upset!"

"I'm listening. St Andrew's Night."

Pauline dusted herself off. "Right, Keith tried it on with me that night after closing. We were alone in the bar."

"The Debonair?"

"Aye. We had some drinks to celebrate – it was a good night. Keith set up a promo with a whisky chain. Dunpender or something, I can't remember. It was just me and him left. That's when he made a move on me."

"What sort of thing?"

"He tried to kiss me."

"Did you reciprocate?"

Pauline swallowed. "Maybe."

"You maybe reciprocated?"

"Okay, so I did. But it was just kissing. That's all. I swear. We got a taxi on Lothian Road and came back here, hands all over each other. I went to the toilet and had second thoughts. I told Keith it wasn't a good idea to take things any further. Things have been... strained since then."

"I see." Cullen nodded, looking around the kitchen, his mind whirring. "So why didn't he make his move here at some other time?"

"I don't know, do I?" Pauline shrugged. "We were both drunk at the bar. We don't really drink together here."

"And Mr Vardy found out?" Cullen stood up, his knees creaking.

"Aye. He must've seen the CCTV from the pub." Pauline stared out the kitchen window. "Dean threatened to kill Keith."

Chapter 69

"So why the hell didn't you tell us?" Cullen turned around in a slow circle - she better have a really good reason.

Pauline chewed her cheek and tugged her gown tighter. "Can I get dressed?"

"No, you can't." Cullen got in front of her. "This is serious, Pauline. You withheld information in a murder inquiry pertaining to a threat made to the victim."

"And I'm really, really sorry." Pauline buried her head in her hands, fingers clenching the sleeves of her gown. "I don't know why I did it."

"Nothing to do with covering up for Dean, is it?"

"How?"

Cullen folded his arms - take it slow here. "Ms Quigley, I'll go through the facts as I see them." He counted on his thumb. "One, you're romantically involved with Mr Vardy." Forefinger. "Two, Mr Lyle - your flatmate - was found dead in this flat. Murdered. Only prints in that room are his, yours and Mr Dean Vardy." Middle finger. "Three, Mr Vardy has a gap in his alibi." Ring finger. "Finally, Mr Vardy has a reason to kill Mr Lyle."

"I told you I'm sorry."

"Did it just slip your mind?"

"No, I-"

"This should've been mentioned when we spoke to you last Tuesday. You know that, right?"

"I'm sorry. Yes, I-"

"You've withheld information before."

"What?"

"The fact Mr Lyle owed a significant sum to Mr Vardy."

"I swear I never knew it."

"Really? What about Mr Vardy being your boyfriend?"

She looked away. "Sorry."

"Why did you do it?"

Pauline nibbled her lip for a few seconds before she flicked her damp hair over. "Dean made me."

"Really? You expect me to believe that?"

"I do." Pauline swallowed and got to her feet. She opened her dressing gown on the right, left hand raising her small breast. Her ribs were black and blue. "Dean batters the fuck out of me."

Cullen pursed his lips - this was getting worse. "You can put yourself away."

She sat down, shoulders hunched forward. "So you believe me?"

"I'm wondering what else you're not telling us."

"I swear it's the truth."

Cullen sniffed - how do we deal with this? He nodded at Buxton. "Simon, can you call Control and get a squad car out here, please?"

"Sure." Buxton got up and walked to the hall, speaking into his Airwave.

Pauline looked up at him, her head almost on the table. "Are you arresting me?"

"Not yet. We'll get you to make a statement covering everything relating to Dean Vardy - the information he's made you withhold, the beatings, how his mother didn't truly love him, whatever."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll arrest you."

She nodded. "Okay. Fine."

Cullen sat opposite her, the chair still warm. "There's something else of course."

"What?"

"We need to speak to Mr Vardy."

"I told you. I don't know where he is."

"Can you phone him and find out, please?"

She nodded. "Okay." She walked over to the counter, picking up a giant smartphone and fiddling with the screen. Placed it to her ear and stared at Cullen. "Dean? Aye, it's Pauline. No, it's fine. Aye. Aye. I'm not sure I can do my shift tonight. Aye, Keith. Aye. Can I see you?" Eyes moved to the floor. "Where are you? Aye, I'll come round. Be about fifteen minutes. Okay, love you too." She ended the call, putting the phone back on the counter. "He's at his flat."

Buxton entered the room, clutching his Airwave. "There's a car about two minutes away."

Cullen nodded at Pauline. "You can get dressed now."

She picked up the phone and made for the door.

Cullen intercepted her. "Leave the phone."

Chapter 70

"Thank you." Cullen waited for the door to buzz before entering the stairwell and crossing the marble tiles.

"Think that old dear likes you."

"She's just lonely." Cullen looked up the spiral staircase, the lights flickering, before trotting up, two at a time. The flat on the right at the top had
D. Vardy
stencilled on the door. He rapped, making sure Buxton and he stood either side of the spy glass.