by Ed James
Cullen frowned. ‘Care to enlighten me?’
McCrea folded his arms. ‘This guy’s been out all day and just got back. He’s being ultra-evasive.’
‘So do you need an adult to show you how it’s done?’
‘Shut up.’ McCrea cracked his knuckles, left then right. ‘I’ll let you lead.’ He entered the room.
Cullen followed him into the gloom. Curtains drawn, lights on low, press clippings taped to the walls. He glared at McCrea and stepped back outside. ‘What’s all that on the wall?’
‘You’ll see.’ McCrea smirked as he sat on the only chair, facing the man on the bed, overweight and balding. Dressed in a white hotel dressing gown.
Cullen settled on the edge of the wooden desk, covered in books, newspapers and journals. A Microsoft Surface flashed through its screensaver. He flicked a light switch, casting the room in darkness. Tried another. Full light.
McCrea gave a smile. ‘Mr Porteous, I’d like you to meet one of my colleagues.’
He looked at Cullen and his eyes lit up. ‘Jesus Christ!’ He put a hand to his mouth. ‘You’re Scott Cullen!’
‘That’s right.’ Cullen scowled at McCrea. ‘Why’s that imp—’
‘Oh. My. God. You caught him!’
‘Who?’ Cullen checked out the walls. Schoolbook Killer Caught! Hero Cop Scott Cullen: In Profile. He stifled a groan. ‘Well, I was on the team.’
‘I’m writing a book on the Schoolbook killer. Can I interview you?’
‘Join the queue…’ Cullen held up a hand. ‘I’ll maybe sit down with you if you talk to us.’
‘Okay.’
‘Mr Porteous, were you here last night?’
‘Of course.’ Porteous nibbled his lips. ‘I’d been out in Portobello all afternoon. A kind lady showed me where you’d—’
‘Did you see or hear anything?’
‘Well, I was writing on my laptop and I heard muffled screams through the walls.’
‘When was this?’
‘About half past eleven?’
‘So what did you do?’
‘It was putting me off my stride. I’m not one for writing with headphones on. I need absolute calm and focus to get into the flow state.’
‘So?’
‘I hammered on the door.’ Porteous re-crossed his legs, chunky and shaved smooth. ‘A woman came out into the corridor and apologised. Said she was watching a horror film.’
Cullen let out a breath. ‘Did you believe her?’
‘I saw no reason not to.’
‘Did you see into the room?’
‘She’d pulled the door to behind her.’
‘Did you hear anything after that?’
‘It was deathly quiet.’ Porteous frowned. ‘Well, I heard the door going about an hour later.’
‘Did she leave?’
‘I think so.’ Porteous sniffed. ‘I feel really bad about this. I didn’t know you’d found a body. I’ve been out in Livingston all day. Schoolbook had given me access to—’
‘Yeah, yeah, we get it, pal.’
‘Listen, I only found out what happened when your colleague knocked on the door half an hour ago.’
‘Can you describe the woman you spoke to?’
Porteous shrugged. ‘It was dark.’
Cullen held up his phone and found a photo of Candy. ‘Was this her?’
‘It could’ve been. It was dark in the corridor, you know. The night lights were on.’
Cullen got up. ‘Thanks for your time.’
‘Can I get that interview with you?’
‘Speak to the press office.’
* * *
Bain cracked his knuckles. ‘I need you to open up a wee bit here, darling.’
Candy sniffed, eyes locked on Reynolds. ‘When do I get out of here, Al?’
‘Not my place to decide.’ The lawyer shrugged. ‘I can only point out how close to the wire they’re running.’
Cullen leaned forward to the microphone. ‘Interview paused at nineteen forty-one.’ He got up, nodded at Bain and left the room.
Bain slammed the door behind them and stared down the empty corridor. ‘This is another fuckin’ disaster.’
‘You’re telling me.’ Cullen rested against the wall, cold plaster on his palms. ‘Might be worth cutting down on the oblique questioning. Keep it straight.’
‘Cheeky bastard. How would you fuckin’ handle it?’
‘Don’t ask stuff like, why did you do it? Why did you kill him? Keep it specific. You’ve not even mentioned Ferguson yet. I thought that was the whole point of us being here.’
‘I’m fuckin’ getting there, Sundance. That punter at the hotel said it was her. I’m just leading her down a path before I catch her in a lie.’
Cullen folded his arms. ‘We’ve nothing linking her to Ferguson.’
Bain ran a hand across his scalp. ‘Look. We’ve got her fuckin’ this banker boy. Might be up the duff to him.’
‘So why kill Ferguson?’
Bain shot his gaze to the door. ‘We need to find that out.’
‘There’s no link.’
‘She was fuckin’ there, Sundance.’
‘Come on. I’m taking over.’
Bain opened the door. ‘Fill your fuckin’ boots.’
Cullen entered the room and sat opposite Candy. He started the recorder. ‘Interview recommenced at nineteen forty-four. Candy, do you know a Martin Ferguson?’
‘Means nothing to me.’
‘That true?’
‘Don’t even know who you’re talking about.’
Bain tossed a photograph of Ferguson across the desk. ‘You don’t recognise him?’
‘He looks like a million guys I’ve shown my tits to.’
‘You didn’t, say, murder him last night?
‘What?’ Candy grabbed her lawyer’s arm. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘A person matching your description was spotted at the hotel crime scene last night between eleven and half past.’
‘I was with Dean.’
‘That’s very convenient, princess. Shame you weren’t dancing or out on an escort gig. You’d have a roomful of reliable witnesses.’
Cullen slumped back in his chair. No winning with Bain.
‘Like they’d come forward for me.’
‘How come we found you at your mate’s flat this morning?’
‘Dean came round. Cleared off after we, you know, made love.’
Bain leaned back in the chair, pulling his left index finger until it cracked. He slid a sheet of paper across the table. ‘This your number?’
Candy checked it. ‘Nope.’
‘Sure about that?’
‘I’ve got one phone and that’s not it.’
‘Let the record state that Ms Broadhurst doesn’t recognise the number in question.’ Bain took the sheet back. ‘You’re saying you never had sex with Mr Ferguson?’
‘I’ve no idea who he is.’
‘Funny, we’ve found yours and his DNA in Mr Van de Merwe’s sex room. Looks like you were there a few times. You definitely don’t know him?’
‘No comment.’
‘You’re sticking to your story, then?’
‘Of course I am.’
Bain lifted a shoulder. ‘Interview terminated at nineteen forty-seven.’ He got up and adjusted his suit jacket. ‘Have a word, Al. See if she wants to confess. It’ll save us all a lot of time.’
Reynolds snapped his document holder shut. ‘I’ll do no such thing.’
‘Charming.’ Bain opened the door, holding it for Cullen before slamming it. ‘What do you think?’
‘Should’ve let me handle it.’
‘Come on, Sundance, you were getting nowhere.’
‘Did Anderson really find Ferguson’s DNA there?’
‘Aye, he did.’
‘Was it at the same time as Candy?’
‘No idea. She’s definitely hiding something, Sundance.’
‘What was that phone number?’<
br />
‘We found a text message on Ferguson’s phone about meeting up in that room.’ Bain gave a shrug. ‘Number wasn’t in his contacts list. Tommy Smith’s confirmed it was a disposable phone.’
‘So someone lured Ferguson to the hotel?’
‘Looks like it.’ Bain stroked his moustache. ‘Let’s have a word with Vardy, see if he tears her story a third arsehole.’
‘Better be quick. I’m supposed to be taking Buxton out for a beer. He got his tenure.’
‘Wonders will never fuckin’ cease.’ Bain shook his head, adjusting the micro-quiff. ‘This you inviting me out?’
‘No.’
‘Cheeky fucker.’ Bain pushed into the adjacent interview room. ‘Evening, Campbell. Surprised you’ve not sent an underling along. Usually turn into a pumpkin at about half six, don’t you?’
McLintock rested his fountain pen on his legal pad. ‘I’m here when my clients need me, Brian. You know that.’
‘When they’re ready and willing to pay through the nose for it, maybe.’
‘I charge a competitive rate, Inspector.’ McLintock raised his hands, his mouth forming an O. ‘Sorry, I should have said Sergeant.’ He grinned.
Cullen sat next to Bain and cleared his throat. ‘Shall we get this started?’
McLintock whispered something in Vardy’s ear, getting a nod. ‘We’re good to go.’
Cullen leaned across the table and started the digital recorder. ‘Interview commenced at twenty oh two on Friday the twenty-second of May, 2014. Present are DS Scott Cullen and DS Brian Bain. Also present is Dean Malcolm Vardy, with his legal representative, Campbell McLintock.’ He held Vardy’s gaze for a few seconds. ‘Do you know a Martin Ferguson?’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘That the truth?’
‘Calling me a liar?’
‘Mr Ferguson was murdered last night.’
‘No idea who you’re talking about.’ Vardy snorted and folded his arms. ‘Campbell, I don’t have to stay here, do I?’
‘This is entirely at your discretion.’
Vardy got to his feet. ‘Cheers, lads. It’s been—’
‘We found DNA traces from Mr Ferguson and your bird in Van de Merwe’s sex room.’ Bain drummed his thumbs on the table. ‘Looks like they’d been—’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ Vardy rested against the chair back.
‘I want to—’
Cullen raised a hand to Bain. ‘Dean, can we talk about the burner?’
‘What, CDs and that?’
‘Don’t get cute. You know what I’m talking about.’
Vardy smirked at McLintock. ‘Boy here’s watched The Wire and thinks he’s an expert on the criminal underworld.’
‘You’ve never used a disposable mobile?’
‘Got a Nokia Lumia. Suits my needs.’
‘That the only phone you’ve got?’
‘Not answering that.’
‘Mr Vardy, someone in your line of work has a lot of use for anonymity, right?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Discretion. Secrecy. Whatever you want to call it. You try to distance yourself from your illicit activities.’
‘Back to this shit, is it? Listen to me — I’ve no idea who this guy was.’
‘Martin Ferguson.’
‘Aye, him. Never met the boy.’
‘Doesn’t mean you didn’t have someone kill him, does it?’
‘Only guy I ever heard of in relation to Candy was Van de Merwe.’
Bain leaned forward. ‘Going to open up about that, are you?’
‘There’s nothing here. You boys know me. At least this one does.’ Vardy flicked a hand at Cullen. ‘I never attach myself to a bit of skirt. Soon as they’ve served their purpose, that’s it. Move on. Get the fuck out of Dodge.’
Cullen got in first. ‘Like with Pauline Quigley?’
Vardy looked away. ‘Aye, like her.’
‘So you’ll just move on from Candy?’
‘Of course.’
‘If you think so little of our female friends, why did you ask Candy to move in with you?’
‘Eh?’
‘That’s very caring for someone who just wants out of Dodge.’
‘Piss off.’
‘Has a girl ever got that close to you before, Dean?’
‘No comment.’
‘Never melted your heart?’
‘No. Comment.’
‘Come on, we were getting on so well there.’
‘Where were you last night between half past eight and midnight?’
‘With Candy. At her mate’s flat. Had a nice night in. Got a Chinese in, watched a film.
‘Which one?’
‘I can’t remember. Candy’d bought it in the Co-op. It had Matthew McConaughey in it.’
‘You knew we were looking for her, didn’t you?’
‘News to me, pal. Listen, I’ve given her the week off cos her back’s been sore.’ Vardy looked over at McLintock. ‘Get me out of here, Cammy.’
Cullen glanced over at Bain and got a shrug. ‘Interview terminated at eight fifteen.’
Forty-Four
Murray stood up and belched. ‘Sorry, boys. I’ll have to love you and leave you. Got to get back to Garleton to see the other half’s old dear.’
Buxton raised his empty glass. ‘Cheers for coming, Stu.’
‘If you’d told me earlier, I could’ve got a late pass.’ Murray did up his coat. ‘Don’t stay too late, boys.’ He gave a mock salute and left the bar.
Cullen sank back in his armchair, looked around the Elm and took another glug of Punk IPA, bitter and hoppy as fuck, already zapping his brain. The bright lights stung his eyes. ‘This is lovely stuff.’
‘Tell me about it, mate.’ Buxton held up his glass, the liquid inside fizzing away. ‘Good enough to grow a beard for.’
‘That didn’t suit you.’ Cullen swallowed more beer, the tension in his shoulders slackening off. ‘I’ve missed this stuff.’
‘Can’t believe you lasted that long on the wagon. This you off for good?’
‘We’ll see.’ Cullen took another sip, the liquid just below halfway. ‘Two pints is my limit tonight.’
‘Sharon’s got you on a tight lead these days.’
‘Self-imposed, Si.’
‘Impressive. If you stick to it.’
‘Course I will.’ Cullen pinged the edge of the glass. ‘Then it’s home for some more Super Mario 3D Land.’
‘You’re such a child.’ Buxton paused and cleared his throat. ‘Thanks for getting me the tenure, mate.’
‘Nothing to do with me. Well, not much.’
‘All right. Piss off, then.’
Cullen laughed. ‘You should be thanking Cargill.’
‘I did. She wasn’t interested in a pint with you and Stuart. Eva and Chantal weren’t up for it, either.’
‘Your reputation precedes you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re a booze hound.’
‘Like you’re any better.’
‘I’ve knocked it on the head.’
‘Says the man who’s arsed half a pint of five point six per cent craft beer.’
‘Shite.’ Cullen looked at his glass. ‘It’s not that strong, is it?’
‘Stronger than Stella. You know how bad you are on that.’
‘See, you are a liability.’
‘How’s this my fault?’
‘You’re pressuring me into drinking.’
‘You don’t have to go along with it.’
‘Alcohol-free beer just doesn’t cut it.’ Cullen took another drink. ‘So. How do you feel about your tenure?’
‘I’m okay.’ A deep sigh. ‘Now the monkey’s off my back, I can think more about what I should be doing.’
‘Leaving the police?’
‘No, mate. Finding a girl and settling down.’
‘What about your flatmate?’
‘Bugger off, I mean it.�
��
‘Seriously, there’s nothing there?’
‘Just friends.’ Buxton drank some beer and grimaced. ‘You know I shagged Chantal, right?’
‘She might’ve let it slip.’
‘I think she’s the one.’
‘She’s way out of your league, Si.’
‘I’m fed up of being single. I want what you’ve got with Sharon.’
‘You can’t have her.’
‘Very good. You know what I mean. Just want a nice girl who puts up with my nonsense.’
‘That’s how you see it?’
‘Isn’t that how it is? You’re an idiot like me. She’s really good for you.’
‘I know that.’ Cullen folded his arms. ‘We’ve had some tough times recently.’
‘The baby stuff?’
‘And others.’
‘But it’s behind you?’
Cullen tightened his grip on the glass. ‘Early days.’
‘See, that’s what I want. A girl who’ll put up with my shit.’
‘She has to exist first.’
‘Very funny.’ Buxton drained his glass and slammed it on the table. ‘Do you mind if I partake in another, kind sir?’
‘Be my guest.’ Cullen watched him wander over to the bar, fishing for change and burping into his other hand. He took another swig and checked his phone for messages. Just a couple of texts.
Rich. Not going to make it along, mate. Got a front page to run.
He tapped out a reply. Remember our deal…
He checked the message from Tom. Won’t get down there. Say hi from me. Heading to Liquid Lounge soon if you fancy it…
Cullen replied. Keep your eyes peeled there, mate. Blokes have been getting raped there.
His phone rattled again. Doubt they’ll be after my fat arse.
Buxton dumped his fresh glass on the table and tossed a tub of wasabi peas at Cullen. He waved his phone in the air. ‘Murray’s just missed his train. He’s coming back.’
‘Sounds like trouble.’
* * *
The bouncer nodded. ‘In you go, gentlemen.’ Thumbed behind him into the Liquid Lounge. ‘Have a good night.’
Cullen strutted inside. ‘Not done this in a while.’
Buxton grinned at him. ‘Shame you’ve hit your limit already.’