Windchill (DC Scott Cullen Crime Series Book 6)

by Ed James

  "What about Pauline?"

  "We got her revised statement last night and let her go."

  "You're serious?"

  "Not my decision, Constable." Methven scowled at Angela. "How are the background checks going?"

  "Slowly."

  "Why's that?"

  "I've got to cover a fair few people and there's a lot of stuff coming back. I'm looking into the financial records next, sir - just got their bank statements through. It'll be a while before I've assimilated it all."

  "Can't you hurry up?"

  "Aye, I'll try." Angela looked at a sheet of paper. "I did get a check done on Dave Weir's flat, though?"

  "And?"

  "It's definitely owned by a company called Dean Bridge Developments. Only shareholder is one Dean Vardy."

  "Oh, sodding, sodding hell." Methven shut his eyes briefly before glaring at Cullen. "Did you know this?"

  Cullen flicked though his notebook. "I didn't know he owned that flat as well."

  "That would mean Weir's entire statement is a load of nonsense, wouldn't it?"

  "Potentially. Not sure how much leverage Vardy could apply to a tenant, though."

  DC Jain opened the meeting room door and snuck in. "Sorry I'm late, sir."

  Methven put his hands on his hips. "Where the sodding hell have you been?"

  Jain smirked. "Downstairs."

  "Downstairs?" Methven was almost purple with rage.

  "Aye. I've just put Dave Weir in an interview room."

  "You found him?"

  "He found me."

  "How?"

  "He called me first thing. That neighbour we spoke to went upstairs this morning before he went to work." Jain grinned. "Turns out he was in the Ghillie Dhu on Rutland Square all night. Pretty much the only pub in Edinburgh I didn't visit last night."

  "I see."

  "He's a bit worse for wear."

  "Is he able to be interviewed?"

  "Duty doctor's just been in with him, sir. He's fine."

  "Sodding, sodding hell." Methven circled Weir/Teuchter's in black pen. "Our whole case is in danger of falling apart here and you're winding me up?"

  "Sorry, sir. I wasn't winding you up, really."

  Cullen raised his hands. "Calm down, we've got him."

  Methven stabbed a finger in Cullen's direction. "You sodding get yourself down there and speak to him, okay?"

  Chapter 78

  "Mr Weir, can you please go over your statement again." Cullen leaned back in the chair, arms folded, fed up with the day already.

  Weir sniffed as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, the stench of stale alcohol seeping out. "Should I not have a lawyer in here?"

  "You're not a suspect. You're a witness. We're just gathering intelligence."

  Weir nodded and cleared his throat. "Right, this was a wee while ago, remember?"

  "I do. I've had a very enjoyable holiday in that time."

  "Right. I've got a wee bit of a hangover so you'll have to bear with me." Weir switched his gaze between Cullen and Jain. "Okay, so that night, I was working in the bar. We were pretty busy, as I'm sure you can imagine."

  "I can."

  "As I told you last week or whenever it was, I was doing table service for them."

  "You never said there were three people at the table, though."

  "Right."

  "Were there?"

  "Aye, there were. Why do you ask?"

  "Well, we've got potentially conflicting statements."

  "Oh aye?"

  "Tell us who you think was there, Mr Weir."

  "Darren Keogh and Dean Vardy, for definite. There was a third boy with them, drinking Deuchars IPA."

  Cullen picked up his phone and unlocked it before selecting a photo - Lyle. He showed it to Weir. "Was it this guy?"

  "You showed me him last time. It wasn't him."

  Cullen flicked to another photo - Falconer. "What about him?"

  "I don't know."

  Cullen dropped his phone to the table - this was playing into their hands. "Have you ever seen this mysterious third person before?"

  "Sort of. I didn't get a great look at the lad and he had a baseball cap on, but I think I know his face from somewhere."

  "Okay." Cullen locked eyes with him - why are you hiding things from us? "Can you tell us who owns your flat?"

  "My flat?"

  "Yes, where you live?"

  "It's rented."

  "I know that. Who owns it?"

  "I don't know."

  Cullen looked at his copy of the information Angela had found. "Looks very much like it's owned by Dean Vardy."

  Weir swallowed hard. "Is it?"

  "Very much so. Owned by a business called Dean Bridge Developments. Director and shareholder? One Dean Vardy."

  "Sure I shouldn't have a lawyer in here?"

  "Not unless you've given us a false statement."

  "I swear I haven't. I'd no idea Dean owned the flat." Weir tugged the collar of his polo shirt. "All the money goes through one of my flatmates, Brian."

  "Does Brian work at the Debonair, perchance?"

  "Aye."

  "As did you?"

  "I did, aye."

  "But you fell out with Mr Vardy?"

  Weir shook his head. "That was before Dean owned the place outright."

  "But he was involved?"

  "Aye. I could see the lay of the land. I didn't like the punter one bit so I got out of there."

  "Why?"

  Weir shrugged. "Seemed dodgy, like."

  "In what way?"

  "Shifty. Just knew he was up to something."

  "Like what?"

  "Nothing specific. Look, I've spent time inside, mate, okay?"

  "We know." Cullen checked the PNC print. "Actual Bodily Harm. Two counts. A hefty fine the first time, two-year stretch for the second."

  Weir looked away, one hand clamped to his neck. "Great."

  "I'm not sure I follow your reasoning. Mr Vardy wasn't trying to get you to beat people up for him, was he?"

  "Look, I don't want anything at all to do with punters like that. They're bad news."

  "You're on the level here?"

  "Aye." Weir shut his eyes. "Look, I've not done anything dodgy, okay? I'm just trying to keep my head above water."

  "Fine. I'm not trying to implicate you here but you've got to start playing ball with us. Let's try again, shall we? How many people were there in the group?"

  "Three."

  "Three. And who was amongst this number?"

  "Darren Keogh and Dean Vardy. Like I told you before."

  "We believe the third person may've been called Billy."

  "Billy?" Weir clicked his fingers before pointing at Cullen. "That's who it was."

  "You know who Billy is?"

  "Aye. Billy Jones."

  Chapter 79

  "Let's recap where we've got to." Methven gripped the edge of the whiteboard, his left hand jangling keys and change. "We've got two murders and a suspect for each. Both suspects have means, motive and opportunity but also have alibis. The same alibi. Darren Keogh."

  Cullen nodded. "Correct."

  "And now you're telling me we've got a conflicting witness statement?"

  "We do. As I've been saying all along, sir, someone's lying. I don't take Dave Weir to be a liar."

  "But his flat's owned by Mr Vardy?"

  "That's true but it was news to him. Says it's all done through his flatmate. Wasn't aware of Dean Vardy owning it."

  "News to him or convenient?"

  "Not convenient, sir. He disagrees with him - he's backed up Vardy's initial statement - Billy Jones was with them."

  "Interesting." Methven glared at him for a few seconds, the dark eyebrows almost covering his eyes. "I don't like this one bit."

  "Nobody does, sir." Cullen shrugged before sitting in a chair. "It's called police work, right? It's shit, it's boring, it's frustrating. We'll get there, though."

  Jain tried to smile. "So wha
t do you want us to do, sir?"

  "DC Jain, you and I are going to find this Billy Jones." Methven shifted his gaze to Cullen and Buxton. "Can you two speak to Mr Keogh again?"

  "Will do, sir. Control were having him brought in."

  Chapter 80

  Cullen glanced over the table, the recorder blinking, then back at Buxton. "Mr Keogh, when we spoke to you yesterday, you told us you were with Mr Kenneth Falconer and Mr Dean Vardy on the evening of the thirtieth of December?"

  Keogh swallowed. "That's correct. Kenneth was with us."

  Cullen reached into a docket on the table in front of him, producing a long receipt. "Here's a till roll of your drinks that night, time-stamped with each round." He handed a photocopy to Keogh. "You'll notice each round has two pints of Brewdog plus a Deuchars IPA. Three drinks. Three people."

  "There you go. My statement's been backed up."

  "Who was drinking what?"

  "I was on the Brewdog. I think Kenneth was as well."

  "Oh, really? We've got him on the record saying his was the Deuchars."

  "Sorry. You're right. Dean would go for the craft beer over the real ale. Sorry. Kenneth was on the IPA, that's correct."

  Cullen frowned. "Why do you keep calling him Kenneth? Everyone else calls him Kenny."

  "It's however I'm introduced to people." Keogh licked his top lip, removing some of the sweat sheen. "That's how I remember them."

  "So you're sticking to your story then?"

  Keogh nodded. "I am. There were three of us that night. Kenny, Dean and myself."

  "See, that's quite interesting." Cullen flicked through his notebook, eyes locked on Keogh. "Mr Vardy let something slip. He was adamant Mr Falconer wasn't with you. He said this person was called Billy."

  Keogh swallowed again before staring at the clock on the wall, his breath coming hard and fast. "Billy?"

  "Yes, Billy. Said you'd know his surname."

  "Well, I don't."

  "Wouldn't be Jones, would it?"

  "I don't know." Keogh shifted in his seat. "You said he was adamant. I take it he changed the story?"

  "He did." Cullen smiled at Keogh. "The thing is, Mr Vardy knows Mr Falconer. Quite well it turns out. They've done business together in the past. Seems odd not to recognise an old acquaintance."

  Keogh wiped sweat from his forehead. "I've told you, we were with Kenneth."

  "You're one hundred per cent sure about that?"

  "I am!" Keogh clenched his jaw, fingers massaging his temples. "You said Dean told you he was mistaken. I'm backing that up. Kenneth was with us. Please drop it."

  "Even in the light of a conflicting statement?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "We have another statement placing Billy Jones with you, not Kenny Falconer."

  "I want a lawyer in here."

  Chapter 81

  "The fucker's lying his arse off, sir." Cullen slammed the glass door behind him, causing the wall to vibrate.

  Methven looked up from a pile of paperwork. "I presume the interview with Mr Keogh didn't go to plan?"

  "Aye." Cullen scowled. "Lying bastard's lawyering up right now. That's all we're getting out of him."

  "He's sticking to his story, guv." Buxton went over to the whiteboard. "Can I scrawl 'Darren Keogh is a lying bastard' all over this?"

  Methven scowled. "I presume you've got evidence to support that statement?"

  "It's the truth, though, right?"

  "The truth is he's lying?"

  "Yeah, something like that."

  "He's got to be lying." Cullen perched on the edge of the desk, the hard wooden edge digging into the back of his leg. "Weir reckons Billy Jones was there, not Kenny Falconer. Why would he lie about it?"

  "Mr Vardy owns his flat?"

  "Like I said earlier, sir, Weir disagrees with Vardy's statement."

  "Well, what do you propose to do, Constable?"

  "We could kick the shit out of Keogh until he confesses?"

  Methven nodded. "I've thought of doing that a few times. Not going to stand up in court, I'm afraid."

  "More's the pity." Cullen stood up and focused on the whiteboard. "Did Angela get anywhere finding him?"

  "I've not had a chance to catch her sin- Ah." Methven flared his nostrils before his gaze switched to the door. "DC Caldwell, I hope you've got some good news for us regarding Mr Jones."

  Angela nudged the door shut behind her before waddling over to a seat at the far end of the table. "Who's Mr Jones?"

  "Billy's surname's Jones. I texted you."

  Angela pointed at a mobile next to a pile of papers on the table. "Sorry, my phone's been in here."

  "So what have you been doing?"

  "What you asked, sir - background checks on Lyle, Keogh, Falconer and Vardy."

  "Anything?"

  "Maybe." Angela held up a wad of paper. "I've found recurring payments from both of Vardy and Falconer's bank accounts for a grand each."

  "Who to?"

  "Needs a bit more digging, sir. I thought you'd be pleased."

  "I am. Can you start looking for Billy Jones, please?"

  "Will do."

  Methven focused on Cullen. "Constable, can I ask you to investigate these transactions for me?"

  Cullen rubbed his face - hardly DS duties. "Sure."

  Chapter 82

  Cullen sat at his desk, trying to tune out the noise from the office around him. He stared at the transactions, the numbers blurring before his eyes.

  Sergeant duties did not equal checking bank statements.

  Start again.

  Cullen put the stacks of paper in front of him - Vardy on the left, Falconer on the right. He marked each of the interesting transactions with an asterisk - the narrative for each transaction read 'D/D WINDCHILL LTD' - the money coming out on the second of each month and both paying exactly one thousand pounds a month.

  Were the payments made to the same account? He checked the account number field - they matched.

  What the hell was Windchill? He googled it - a few air conditioning companies down south called Windchill Factor or derivatives of it. Nothing that looked like it would accept a grand a month from two dodgy Edinburgh criminals.

  Look elsewhere.

  He reached for the pile of paper at the back of his desk - Keogh's transactions - and flicked through until he found the most recent page.

  Bingo - payment for two grand every month on the twentieth. 'BAC WINDCHILL LTD'.

  BAC meant a payment in.

  He checked Keogh's balance - just over thirty-six quid overdrawn. Naughty boy. Flicking through the records, Cullen noticed the payments had been made for a couple of years at least. He picked up his phone and dialled. "Angela? It's Scott. Can you get me prints of the older transactions?"

  "I'm not sure. I'll see what I can do."

  "Cheers."

  He picked up the final set of paper, Lyle's transactions. Nothing involved Windchill. No transactions above one hundred quid, except for cash withdrawals which would tally with his rent, the cash in hand deal with Vardy.

  So Lyle was clear. What next?

  He got to his feet and made for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, thinking as he climbed.

  Focus - Falconer and Vardy paid a grand a month to a company Keogh received two from. Could only mean one thing.

  He stormed across the Forensic Investigation floor, the curtains drawn and the place receiving the bulk of the exhaust from the canteen across the stairwell. He rapped on a desk at the back.

  "Oh, it's you." Charlie Kidd slumped back in his chair, one hand tossing his ponytail, the other rubbing the freshly shaved hair round the sides.

  Cullen perched on the edge of his desk. "That's no way to greet an old buddy."

  "Aye, right. Always get my arse battered after I help you."

  "Charming." Cullen dumped the pages on the only empty space, between an empty Peperami Hot and a half-full bottle of Lucozade Sport. "You've been working with DC Caldwell on this
, right?"

  Kidd picked up the sheets and checked them before nodding. "Aye. Just got the extracts for her, mind. Chasing a paper trail beneath you these days?"

  "Wish it was." Cullen pointed to one of his asterisks. "Can you dig into these transactions for me?"

  "Can you not do it?"

  "We don't have the access downstairs. It's your job, unfortunately."

  "Right." Kidd switched a few windows on his screen, bringing up a black and white page. He hovered the mouse over a line. "This one here, right?"

  "Aye."

  Kidd clicked and it filled with data. "Looks like the account belongs to a limited company called Windchill."

  "That's what the transaction said, right?" Cullen drummed his fingers on the desk. "What sort of business is that?"

  "Not sure. Let me check." Kidd selected a chunk of text and pasted it into another window. The cursor changed to a fish growing legs, turning into a lizard then reverting.

  Cullen tapped the screen. "I like that."

  "Good, eh? Don't tell anyone, I'll get pelters for it."

  "Your secret's safe with me."

  Kidd switched to another data view, this time in classic Windows grey. He selected a row, turning the text white and the background blue. "This might help you."

  "What is it?"

  "It's the company ID number. You could give Companies House a call."

  "I could?"

  Kidd raised his hands. "Aye, that's my bit done."

  "Seriously? What about getting me a list of people who've received money from them? Or paid them?"

  "Well... Okay. Fine."

  Chapter 83

  "Cheers, Charlie." Cullen ended the call as he pushed into the meeting room.

  Methven was jabbing hard at the whiteboard. "Where the sodding hell is Billy Jones?"

  Cullen shut the door behind him, Caldwell and Buxton looking up. "You not found him yet?"

  "No, Constable, we haven't."

  "Well, I think I have." Cullen held up a sheet of paper.

  Methven snatched it from him. "What the sodding hell is this?"

  "That is a list of all the payments received by Windchill, the company Vardy and Falconer have been paying. That's over a hundred and fifty payments received every month." Cullen handed him another sheet, taken with as much aggression. "This is the twenty who are paid. Darren Keogh is on there, as is Billy Jones."