Dyed in the Wool (DC Scott Cullen Crime Series Book 4)

by Ed James

  "Few guys from work. Maybe my flatmate Dean."

  "Dean and Derek? You sound like a sixties folk band."

  Derek laughed. "I tell you, I'll be folking some bird tonight." He gave a leery grin. "Got two hundred quid in my wallet and I'm getting ripped before I rip into some cheeky bit of skirt."

  Cullen chuckled. "I'll leave it for another time."

  "Who says I'll invite you again?"

  "I'll take my chances."

  "Come on, Scotty, even just for a couple."

  "I need to get home."

  The match restarted and Hibs immediately had a break down the right. The ball ping-ponged back and forth before breaking to one of their midfielders who hit a curving shot into the far corner. The fans around them got to their feet and even Cullen had to stand up and applaud.

  Derek nudged him with his elbow. "There will be birds there."

  "No."

  "You might just stop me from getting mugged again."

  "All right. I'll come out for a couple." Cullen pointed to his jeans and trainers. "I'm not dressed for a night on George Street, mind."

  ***

  "Reckon they start pouring them at half time?" Cullen pointed at the bar, completely filled with pints of lager and the occasional Guinness.

  "Probably, aye." Derek got two from the barman. "Be lucky if these have any fizz left."

  Cullen took a long draught, his hangover disappearing into the middle distance as they tanned their pints in the crowded pub. "Decent match."

  "Always decent when the Leith boys batter someone. Four nil. Man." Derek checked his watch before making another large dent in his pint. "You ever work the football?"

  "A few times. Mostly the Almondvale in Livvy and Tynecastle but occasionally Easter Road." Cullen took a big drink, instantly regretting it. The two pies he'd wolfed down before the match had mated with the third he'd added at halftime and they were seriously repeating on him. "Easter Road was always the worst. Especially against Rangers."

  "Fuckin' Hun bastards."

  "You could put it that way, but the Hibs casuals were really bad."

  "We're still really bad." Derek grinned.

  Cullen pointed at the black eye. "That's not from a football fight, is it?"

  "It's a mugging." Derek pointed at Cullen's pint. "Come on." He zipped up his jacket while Cullen struggled through the rest of his pint.

  They left the busy pub, Derek smiling and waving at a few people.

  Seeing him in his element really brought home how well-connected Derek was.

  They walked away from the stadium down Albion Terrace towards Easter Road itself. The tenements on both sides quickly gave way to an open expanse and they crossed a railway bridge. The street was solid with rubbish - burger cartons, bottles of cider and Buckfast, cans of lager.

  "Gettin' quite cold." Derek tied his thick scarf in Hibs green and purple over in a loop.

  "Nice Take That scarf."

  "Eh?"

  "That's the sort of scarf Take That wore when they did their comeback."

  "Fuck off."

  "It is. Still, it's quite a difference from the ned clothes you wore when I first met you."

  "I've got cash now." Derek uncoiled the scarf. "Better take this off before we head into George Street, anyway."

  As they crossed the railway line, Cullen realised he'd no idea where the rails went. "Is this still a live station?"

  "Think so, aye. Freight. The station in Leith was knocked down years ago."

  "Right?"

  "Fancy getting a cheeky one in at Pivo by the Waverley?"

  "Aye, that would be good. I like it in there."

  Derek led them down a side street towards Easter Road.

  Cullen heard heavy footsteps from behind them. He spun around as quickly as he could.

  Four men in tracksuits approached them. Cullen relaxed - they were just out for a jog. He turned back and kept walking.

  He was hit on the back of the head and sent sprawling.

  "You fucking Hibs cunts!"

  Cullen tried to get up. He was kicked from behind and fell forward, before taking another kick in the side, then in the shoulder. He groaned then rolled over, lashing out with his foot.

  He connected with someone. A voice screamed out and a body tumbled to the ground.

  Cullen struggled to his feet and headed over to the man he'd knocked down. A swift kick from behind caught him and sent him falling forward again.

  He was winded. His stomach ached. He pulled himself into a ball, wary of any more kicks. He heard footsteps again.

  "We'll fucking get you again, Miller!"

  Cullen looked around.

  Derek was in a similar pose on the opposite pavement.

  Their assailants were gone.

  Cullen got to his feet and walked over to Derek. He crouched down and placed a hand on his head. Derek flinched.

  "They've gone, Derek."

  Derek spun round quickly. His jacket had been ripped open. He lay on his back, breathing quickly.

  "Was that your muggers?"

  "Fuck knows."

  "They seem to know you."

  "Think one of them knew my flatmate." Derek sat up, breath misting in the air.

  "Charming."

  "Don't worry, I'll shove his toothbrush up my arse."

  "I'm going to have to report this."

  "There's no need for that, it's just harmless fun."

  "It's assault. My shoulder's fucked at the best of times."

  "The one who hit you wasn't Dean's mate, anyway."

  "Still, Dean or his mate will know who did it."

  Cullen helped Derek to his feet.

  "Still fancy that pint?" Derek dusted his jacket.

  "Fuck that, I'm going home. I suggest you do the same."

  They walked up Easter Road, Cullen intent on heading to the bus stops at the top, just on London Road.

  "Might take your advice, Scotty. This is my flat here." Derek had stopped outside a tenement. "You serious about reporting it"

  "I'll think about it. I don't know if I can be arsed with the admin."

  Sunday

  7th October 2012

  CHAPTER 24

  "Thought you were off today, Curran." Wilkinson folded his arms and put his feet up on his office desk.

  "I am." Cullen sat opposite him. "Meeting someone, but I wanted to check something out."

  Wilkinson looked away. "Still haven't got approval to go to Schoolbook, if that's what you're thinking."

  "Nothing like that. You're looking into football hooligans, right?"

  "Right."

  "I've got a CHIS I'm concerned is in a gang and isn't one hundred per cent reliable. He could be feeding me false information."

  "We've got all that stuff on HOLMES, I'll have a look for you. What's the name?"

  "Can I look at it myself?"

  "No chance, Curran. This is top secret stuff. I shouldn't be looking for you, but I suspect I'll want to have a favour in my pocket."

  "The name is Derek Miller."

  Wilkinson frowned. "Isn't that Keith Miller's brother?"

  "It is."

  Wilkinson exhaled. "Better make that two favours, then, cos I don't believe he's a CHIS."

  "He is and he isn't."

  "Well, I don't even need to look. I put him on there myself. Last week. The boy's involved in a Hibs casuals group."

  Cullen bit his lip. "Thanks."

  "What are you going to do with it, like?"

  "I don't know, but I doubt I'll confront him about it, if that's what's worrying you."

  "If you do, then it goes through me, understand?"

  "Understood." Cullen got to his feet. "Cheers."

  "Not so fast." Wilkinson stood up and grabbed the sleeve of Cullen's polo shirt. "Bain's been in my bloody ear asking about the press release you put out. Reckons he's been trying to get hold of you all day."

  Cullen looked at his phone's display. Four missed calls from Bain. "Must have come
in when I was out for a jog. What was it about?"

  "Something to do with a sighting of a car in Ravencraig. Wanted you to head out there."

  "Can you get him to speak to ADC Buxton about it?"

  "Right, I'll get Britpop onto it." Wilkinson grabbed a bunch of his top. "Remember, if you speak to the Miller boy, you go through me, right?"

  "Fine." Cullen headed off, not really knowing what he was going to do about it.

  ***

  "Here you go." Dawn returned to the table carrying a tray with two large Americanos. "You going to register a note of interest in that flat?"

  "The Gorgie one?" Cullen blew on the coffee. "I don't know if I can be bothered."

  "Typical Scott."

  "How's Johnny doing?" Cullen took an exploratory sip.

  "He's good. Away on a stag do this weekend, hence me being so happy to get out of the flat and watch you depress yourself in a series of shoeboxes. Surprised you boys haven't been out more."

  "You know how it is, out of sight, out of mind. I've been really busy. And I've spent a lot of time with Sharon."

  Dawn smiled. "That's the first time you've mentioned her."

  "Is it?"

  "I wondered why you were looking for a flat on your own. You've split up, haven't you?"

  Cullen took a deep breath. "She lied to me."

  "What about?"

  "She's bisexual." Saying it out loud made it feel real. The jolt of pain hit Cullen in the heart again.

  "Is that a crime?"

  "She had an affair with the woman who's now our DI."

  "Recently?"

  Cullen shook his head. "Ten or eleven years ago."

  "How did you find out?"

  "The arsehole sergeant I work for blurted it out. Turns out half the bloody station knows."

  "And she didn't tell you?"

  "No. She didn't."

  "How do you feel?"

  Cullen looked around the busy cafe, full of young professional couples drinking coffee over the Sunday papers. That would have been him and Sharon. Could have been. Should have been. "I feel fucking angry. I feel let down. Betrayed. Humiliated."

  He took a big gulp of coffee, almost burning his mouth. "Our parents met up the other night, you know? I was ready to commit my future to her. I don't mean get married, or any shit like that. I just wanted to be with her."

  "Did you tell her how you felt about what she'd done?"

  "She got it both barrels, put it that way."

  "I meant how you felt, not shouting at her."

  He'd told her it was over. He'd shouted at her. Told her he was angry. He hadn't explained. "Not really."

  "Maybe you should call her."

  ***

  Cullen sat on the reclining chair in his bedroom, tossing his phone in the air. Seven p.m. on Sunday. Monday morning weighed heavily on his mind. Mostly the first meeting with Sharon.

  He'd call in sick. The worst thing was he couldn't - everyone would know why he wasn't in and he'd find it too hard to come back. How long would he leave it? He could be a right fucking coward at times. Tackle it head on.

  He'd deleted her from his contacts and deleted all her texts. He had to dial voicemail and write down her number. A lump formed in his throat as he listened to the first snatch of the very first message on Friday. He pressed dial.

  "You've finally decided to answer my calls?"

  "It's over, Sharon."

  "How can you say it's over?"

  "Because you lied to me. You were shacked up with Cargill and you never told me." Cullen sighed. "As it stands, I've no trust left in you and I'm the laughing stock in the station."

  "That's what it's all about, then? How the great Scott Cullen can stand in the queue in the canteen and not get jeered at about his girlfriend?"

  "What makes you think I'm like that?"

  "All this shit about why you're not getting promoted, why Turnbull doesn't rate you. It's all the Scott Cullen show."

  "I just want to get what I deserve. I'm pretty much doing DS duties and I'm not getting paid for it. I'm making clowns like Bain look good and he's taking all the glory."

  "Whatever. If they don't see you as DS, who will?"

  "I've got other irons in the fire."

  "I doubt it."

  Cullen took a deep breath. "It's over. I can't trust anything you say. All that shit I took over Alison. At least I'm honest. At least I say how I feel."

  "Me and Cargill happened when you were still at university. Besides, I didn't lie, I just didn't tell you. Have you told me every girl you've had sex with?"

  "I'll get my stuff from your flat next weekend."

  A long pause. "That's it? Fourteen months of the best relationship either of us has had and you end it just like that?"

  "I had to find out about your love-in with Cargill from Alan fucking Irvine."

  "Fine." She sounded ready to hang up.

  Cullen looked around his bedroom, his prison for the foreseeable future. The Aberdeen scarf hanging up, the swiped nightclub posters, the view out of the back across the Forth to East Lothian. "We need to act professionally at work. We have to be cordial."

  "I'll see what I can do." Sharon ended the call.

  Cullen leaned back in his IKEA chair. That went as well as he'd hoped. It was over and she recognised that. They both just needed to move on.

  Tears slipped down his face. He rubbed his eyes, trying to stop them flowing. He gave up and gave in to it.

  He saw his future disappear - the years he'd planned with her were now gone. He didn't want kids and neither did she. They were a perfect match.

  Lying was the worst. Anything else Cullen could bring himself to forgive - if she'd told him, they could have worked it out.

  He'd mentioned the shit he'd had to put up with about Alison as a way of scoring more points but it dug into him. All that hassle for nothing in the end.

  She'd called him the other day, needing to get things sorted out. He'd acted like such a dick. His brain flooded with the times they'd met up - flirting in his ex-girlfriend's kitchen, going on a date, her turning up at his flat convinced they were an item, finding her in the Schoolbook Killer's bedroom.

  Shit.

  She wouldn't have been caught up in the case if he hadn't flirted with her and pulled her into his fucked up life.

  He called her.

  "Alison Carnegie."

  "Alison, it's Scott Cullen."

  "Why are you calling me?"

  He bit his lip. "I was a bit short with you the other day. I was totally out of order. Because of me, you went through hell and you're lucky to be alive. I just wanted to say I'm truly sorry for what happened."

  "Okay." She paused. "I'd still like to meet up with you. I need to hear it from you face to face."

  He should keep her at arm's length. "Okay."

  "How about Tuesday night at six?"

  "See you there."

  He put the phone down on the bed. Shite.

  Monday

  8th October 2012

  CHAPTER 25

  Monday morning, seven a.m.

  Back to the new reality.

  Cullen stood in the Incident Room, arms folded, one of roughly forty officers in the early briefing.

  Cargill was holding court, though it sounded like nothing much had happened over the weekend. "The street team has put in hundreds of man hours over the weekend. So far, we've identified only ten acquaintances of Souness or Aitken. Nobody has seen anything relating to either of their murders."

  Across the busy room, Cullen couldn't help but make eye contact with Sharon. She smiled. Cullen looked away.

  "Key activity in the Aitken search is for DC Cullen to dig into what happened with the Range Rover theft. That's still a glaring hole in the investigation." Cargill narrowed her eyes as a thin smile spread across her lips. "I hope you're sufficiently refreshed to pick it up and deliver. Everyone else, please report to DS Methven or DS Rarity for actions. Dismissed."

  Cullen took a
deep breath. Taking a weekend off during a major inquiry hadn't gone down well with the brass. The room burst into action, queues starting to form around the named DSs as they awaited their allocation of tasks.

  Cullen found a desk and called Giles Naismith from the CCTV office on the Royal Mile to chase him up for the CCTV records. No answer.

  DS Holdsworth headed his way. "DC Cullen, I know you're busy with this case but the Procurator Fiscal's office has been ringing me. Your paperwork on that stabbing in Pilton is overdue."

  "Bryan, I gave you the paperwork last week. I don't know what you've done with it since then."

  Holdsworth frowned at him. "It's not logged on the system."

  "Well, that's not my fault. Papers were given to you on Monday last week. I can certainly try to keep it secret from DCI Turnbull if you've lost them."

  Cullen hadn't given him the files. He'd have to look the documentation out and finalise it for submission to Holdsworth and his labyrinthine admin processes.

  "I'll have to check through my inbox to make sure the papers were appropriately lodged." Holdsworth waddled off, clipboard in hand.

  "Scott, I've been thinking."

  Cullen turned around.

  Sharon.

  He took a deep breath. "What about?"

  "I think it would be more appropriate if we swapped Angela for Simon. That way, a DS can have a DC, and a DC can have an ADC."

  "Whatever. If you've got a thing for Angela, you just need to say. Of course, you don't like telling me about your lesbian relationships."

  "Scott, if you can't be civil, then keep your mouth shut. Do you disagree with swapping them?"

  "Sorry. You're probably right. Fine, I'll take Budgie, you have Angela. She's been a bloody nightmare anyway."

  "Good." Sharon turned around and left the Incident Room.

  Cullen counted to ten. He logged onto the laptop on the desk and found the overdue paperwork. It had been sent. He sent it again, pointing out the error and CCing Turnbull. Ram it, Holdsworth.

  Buxton sat down next to him. "Your bird says you've swapped me for Caldwell. That right?"