Windchill (DC Scott Cullen Crime Series Book 6)

by Ed James

  "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.

  The door opened and Vardy peered out. "That you, babes?"

  Cullen flashed his warrant card. "We need to ask you some que-"

  Vardy slammed the door.

  Buxton raised an eyebrow. "Great plan, mate."

  "Mr Vardy! It's the police!"

  An eye appeared at the spy glass. "I've said all I'm saying to you lot!"

  "We need to ask you some further questions."

  "You been in touch with my lawyer?"

  Cullen frowned at Buxton, who shrugged. "Aye, we have. He said to speak to you directly."

  "Well, this door's staying shut until I hear from him, okay?"

  "We can get a warrant, you know?"

  "Be my guest, pal."

  "Let us in!"

  Silence.

  Cullen glanced at Buxton. "The cheeky bastard's just left us."

  "What are we going to do?"

  "I've got an idea." Cullen hammered the door. "Mr Vardy, we understand why you killed Keith Lyle!"

  The spyhole darkened again before the door opened a crack, a sliver of Vardy's face peering out. "You fucking what?"

  "You've got means and motive."

  "Fuck off, I haven't killed anyone."

  "You found out about Mr Lyle sleeping with Pauline, didn't you?"

  "Now, wait a fucking minute." The door shot open and Vardy stormed out, hand reaching for Cullen's throat and slamming him against the wall tiles. "You shut your fucking face!"

  Cullen choked, his fingers trying to grip Vardy's hand, feet lashing out but missing.

  Buxton lurched forward, tugging at Vardy's shoulders.

  Vardy elbowed him in the stomach, Buxton collapsing to his knees and coughing. "Nobody but me was riding Pauline! You hear me? Nobody!"

  Cullen twisted his head from side to side, trying to wriggle free. The thumbs around his throat released.

  Vardy pulled Cullen back by the collar, before smacking his head against the wall.

  Cullen heard the crunch of the tiles as they cracked with the impact. His skull felt like someone had carved it open. "You fucker!"

  Buxton snapped out his baton, one hand on his abdomen. "Come here, you!"

  Vardy dodged the blow from the baton, catching it on the downswing. He slugged Buxton square in the stomach, sending him down again.

  Vardy grabbed Cullen by the chin, pushing his head back against the wall. "Stop making shit up!"

  "It's not made up." Cullen got an inch of freedom and lashed out, knee crunching into Vardy's groin.

  Vardy blocked the blow, both hands going to Cullen's throat, elbows pinning him back. "You fucking pig scum! You can't do this shit to people!" />
  Cullen struggled to breathe, but managed to croak. "Come down to the station with us."

  "Fuck off!" Vardy swiped out, taking Cullen's legs from under him. He collapsed into a heap and could only watch as Vardy put the boot in on Buxton. "You fucking pair of fucking cunts!"

  Cullen swept his leg round, catching Vardy below his right knee. He stumbled forward, smacking his face off the wooden banister, his head snapping back as he collapsed on top of a groaning Buxton.

  Cullen reached into his pocket for his Airwave. "This is DC Scott Cullen requesting backup."

  Chapter 71

  Methven lay his hands flat on the tabletop, looking across the interview room at Dean Vardy. "Mr Vardy, you assaulted two of my officers just over an hour ago."

  Vardy switched his gaze to Cullen. "This prick here was trying to get into my house. That's unlawful entry."

  Cullen took a deep breath, his throat still rasping from the encounter, the back of his head aching. "We simply wanted to speak to you."

  "You were spreading a load of shite about my girlfriend."

  "We were, were we?"

  "Aye, you were." Vardy scowled at them. "She'd never have let Keith Lyle anywhere near her."

  "Is that so?"

  "Aye."

  "If that's the case, why did you threaten to kill him?"

  "Watch your mouth, pal."

  "You're denying it?"

  "Of course I am."

  "You knew Keith Lyle and Pauline Quigley had been intimate, didn't you?"

  "No comment."

  "You saw it on the CCTV tapes."

  "No comment."

  "And you had a word with Mr Lyle about it, threatened to kill him."

  "No comment, pal."

  Cullen clenched his fists - getting nowhere with this approach. He leaned across the table. "Can you detail your movements on the evening of the thirtieth of December, please?"

  "This again?" Vardy rubbed the back of his neck, his right bicep bulging with the movement. "I've told you a load of times. I was at the pub with Darren Keogh."

  "You're adamant?"

  "Whatever that means."

  "You were definitely there?"

  "I fucking was."

  Cullen folded his arms. "Really?"

  "Aye." Vardy smirked at his lawyer, Neil Parker. "We know he's checked this out, right, and yet he still asks. Why's that, Neil?"

  Parker smiled at Cullen. "You're wasting my client's time here. He's innocent and you're holding him for entirely spurious reasons."

  "He's a murder suspect."

  "He's an innocent man with an alibi." Parker adjusted his tie. "I suggest you let him go."

  Methven ran his tongue over his lips. "Mr Vardy assaulted two of my officers."

  "So?" Parker gave a laugh. "Your officers went in gangbusters on my client. You've been harassing him when he's given a perfectly credible alibi and one backed up by a number of sources, I believe."

  Methven snorted. "We've got a missing hour in your client's statement where he could've killed Mr Lyle."

  "We've been over this." Parker gave a final tug to the knot then let it go. "Mr Vardy bought some chips. At the time of the initial interview, he couldn't remember where but we know you've sent out a squad of officers up there to find which chip shop it was. D'Monte's on Bread Street, correct?"

  "That's correct, yes."

  "Thanks. It's been a great help to our case."

  Methven switched back to glaring at Vardy. "What happened after you bought the chips, Mr Vardy?"

  "I ate them."

  "Then?"

  "I staggered home. I'd had a lot of booze."

  "You didn't pay a visit to Ms Quigley's flat?"

  "No. She was working that night. Didn't want to force myself on her when she was tired, did I? I'm a gentleman."

  Cullen glared at Vardy - enough chicanery. "Who else was in the pub with you and Mr Keogh that night?"

  Vardy gave a chuckle. "I can't remember. Sorry."

  "That's very convenient." Cullen shook his head. "Just the two of you, was it?"

  "My client was under the influence that night, unfortunately."

  "Your client's going to get charged with murder." Methven shut his eyes as he spoke. "It'll be very difficult for him to manage his many businesses from a custody cell."

  Vardy sniffed. "There was another boy with us."

  Cullen cracked his knuckles. "Name, now."

  "Didn't really know the boy, right?"

  Cullen grimaced - it was going to be Falconer, he just knew it. "What was his name, Mr Vardy?"

  "My client is unwilling to divu-"

  "Like fuck I am. I want out of here, right fucking now." Vardy shook his head at Parker.

  "You're going nowhere." Methven gripped the edge of the table. "Except for a cell downstairs."

  Vardy stared at him for a few seconds before nodding at Cullen. "The boy's name was Billy."

  Cullen frowned. "Billy?"

  "Aye. Dazza knows him. It was his mate."

  "It was definitely Billy?"

  "Mr Vardy, I think you shou-"

  Vardy prodded Parker in the chest. "Listen, pal, I'm paying you for legal advice. I'm not asking you anything right now, okay? Just fucking sit there and look pretty." He smiled at Cullen. "Aye. The boy was definitely called Billy."

  Cullen frowned. "Not Kenneth?"

  "Kenneth?" Vardy screwed up his face. "Eh?"

  "Maybe Kenny?"

  "No, it was Billy, as in short for William."

  "Inspector, please ensure your subordinate desists from this line of questioning."

  Vardy pointed at Parker. "I said shut it, okay?"

  Cullen waited till Vardy stared back at him. "Do you know this Billy's surname?"

  "Afraid not, pal. As I said, Dazza'll know. Why don't you check with him?"

  Cullen wrote it down. "Do you know a Kenny Falconer?"

  "Mr Vardy, I mu-"

  "Shut it." Vardy's mouth twitched slightly. "Aye. I know Kenny. We did some business transactions a while back."

  "You mean you bought knives off him?"

  "No comment."

  "Was Mr Falconer with you in Teuchter's on the night of the thirtieth?"

  "Just a second." Parker whispered into Vardy's ear, the Custody and Security Officer out of earshot.

  Cullen leaned over to Methven. "What the fuck's he up to?"

  "No idea." Methven scowled across the table. "That is some decidedly odd behaviour."

  Parker nodded then raised a bony finger and indicated for them to return. "My client's ready."

  Methven folded his arms. "Well?"

  Vardy stared up at the ceiling. "I've just remembered something."

  Methven gave a deep sigh. "So what is it?"

  Vardy lowered his eyes from the ceiling, locking onto Cullen. "Kenny Falconer was with me and Dazza that night."

  Parker smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "For the record, he was with both Mr Keogh and Mr Falconer."

  Cullen frowned. "And not with this 'Billy'?"

  Vardy snorted, eyes flickering shut. "Correct."

  "I'm not following you."

  "I was drunk." Vardy laughed as he rolled his shoulders. "It's an easy mistake to make. Brewdog make strong beer, you know?"

  "Not really." Cullen held his gaze. "No matter how drunk I get, I'm usually still aware of who I'm with. Especially if someone's trying to pin a murder on me." He looked away, rubbing his hands together. "You've just changed your statement."

  "I remembered something." Vardy thumbed at Parker. "Something my brief reminded me I told him the next day."

  "But you knew Falconer and you were adamant he wasn't there."

  "Aye. I got confused." Vardy sniffed. "Thought he wasn't there cos I'd been out with the boy Falconer the night before. It was the same night, right?"

  "And what about Billy?"

  "I'm thinking of another night. Sorry."

  "So he wasn't there?"

  "No. Just the three
of us."

  "You expect us to believe this?"

  "I'm trying to play fair with you boys. I don't want to lead you up the garden path or anything. Now can you let me go?"

  Methven stood up. "Very well." He leaned over and spoke into the recorder, his voice wavering. "Interview terminated at eighteen seventeen."

  Chapter 72

  "Purple sodding buggery." Methven opened the meeting room door and entered, shaking it on its frame. "Sodding, sodding hell."

  Chantal Jain looked up from her laptop. "I take it that went well?"

  "Give me a sodding minute." Methven went over to the whiteboard, tearing off the marker's lid.

  Jain pushed a coffee over the table. "Here you go, Scott. Just got it for you. Sorry about earlier."

  Cullen picked up the cup. "This isn't like you." He took a sniff. "Is there salt in it or something?"

  "No it's clean. Simon guilted me into getting it."

  Buxton shrugged, his eyes still red raw from the fight. "I'd never hear the end of it, would I?"

  Methven turned from the board, arms folded, and scowled at Cullen. "DC Cullen does like to go on a tad, doesn't he?"

  "Cheers." Cullen shook his head - charming fucker.

  Buxton rubbed his left eye. "So I take it the interview with Vardy didn't go very well?"

  "It's still a closed door, Constable." Methven put his hands in his pockets. "Albeit a very strange one. Vardy said there was just one other person with them and it was definitely not Falconer."

  "Right? So?"

  Methven frowned at the whiteboard. "The strange thing is, after a word with his lawyer, he corrected the statement, insisting Falconer was with them."

  Buxton scowled. "How can Vardy be sure it was Falconer?"

  Methven scribbled on the whiteboard. "They're acquainted of old, Constable. Sounds like Vardy bought a knife or knives from Falconer a few years ago."

  "Bloody hell." Buxton stood up, hand delicately patting his stomach as he winced. "Why did he change the story?"

  "I don't know. What I do know is I don't like it." Methven scribbled on the whiteboard - Vardy, Falconer, Keogh. This is a motley crew if ever I saw one."

  Cullen joined Methven at the whiteboard, tapping the section devoted to the pub visit. "You need to add in Billy, sir."