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

by Ed James

  She looked over at Sharon. "What happened to Kenny Souness between being stabbed and DS McNeill and DC Cullen finding him last Wednesday night? Whose is the third fingerprint on the knife?"

  She paused. "We need to tie the chain of events at Ginty's Quarry together - who killed Beveridge and Crossan and why? I want us to mobilise with five strands to the investigation." She pointed at Holdsworth. "Paul, can you get DS Holdsworth to merge the cases on HOLMES?"

  Wilkinson winced. "That's not easy. It'll need two full-time officers for two whole days to do that."

  "It needs to be done today, I'll give you three."

  "That's not how it works."

  "I don't care. We need to pool resources on this and we need it centralised and done by the book. I'm sure you'll appreciate I'm not trying to pull a fast one here and instil some cowboy alternative process."

  "Fine." Wilkinson furiously scribbled notes on his A4 pad.

  Cargill nodded. "Now, in terms of the investigation priorities, we've four major streams. First, DI Wilkinson, can you progress with the investigation at the quarry? I want a clear timeline of events by close of play and I want your staff to relocate there."

  "Okay." Wilkinson sat back in his seat and finished his coffee, crumpling the cup in his meaty fist. "One thing to bear in mind is this fight was organised. We need to trap that. I've got Charlie Kidd investigating on Schoolbook."

  Bain frowned. "Did you just say Schoolbook?"

  Wilkinson grinned. "You're welcome to go back there."

  "Wouldn't touch it with a fuckin' bargepole."

  Cargill gave Holdsworth a stern look. "We clearly need to look at resource allocation, but I want us to plough on as quickly as possible. I don't want to lose any momentum. Paul, I assume you've got a deputy who can take on operational management of this?"

  Wilkinson looked at Cullen. "Well, there's DC Curran."

  "Apart from DC Cullen." Cargill stressed the L's.

  "Aye, I'll look into it."

  "Good. Next, I want a clear timeline from before Aitken arrived at the quarry right through to when he was murdered. There are huge gaps - we haven't even placed him at the quarry, for instance. I want every single hole plugged." Cargill looked at Methven. "Can I ask you to lead this?"

  "Sure thing." Methven raised his eyebrows and smiled.

  "Excellent." Cargill looked at Bain. "DI Bain, can you take the lead on Souness? We need a similar timeline from before the quarry to Souness dying and then to him being found. DS McNeill has been leading this, but I want you to formally take over."

  "Will do." Bain stroked at his moustache. "It is pretty much just a case of him getting stabbed then dying at home, though."

  "Still needs to be closed off." Cargill tapped her fingers on the desk. "Which leaves us with the forensic search. Brian, can you and DS Irvine lead on that?"

  "Aye, will do."

  "Okay." Cargill got to her feet. "Let's get back to work. I want the four leads to stay with me and we can allocate resource accordingly. I'll need DS Holdsworth as well."

  Cullen frowned. "What about me?"

  "First, you could get DS Holdsworth in here." Cargill smiled. "You can work with DS Irvine."

  Cullen sighed. "Yes, ma'am." He'd be lucky to get away without another complaint. At least he'd avoided Sharon.

  CHAPTER 39

  Cullen typed the last words of his interview notes from the sessions with Miller and Richardson. He emailed the copy to Holdsworth for inclusion in the case files and printed out two copies. The clock in the bottom right corner of the screen read 15.04.

  He shut the lid on the laptop and looked across the Incident Room, far busier than he'd seen for days.

  Wilkinson was nearby, sitting with one of his officers, a woman in her late twenties. He caught Cullen's eye and headed over, sitting at the adjacent desk. "I hope most of the energy isn't being expended on merging the cases, rather than catching the murderers."

  "Tell me about it." Cullen nodded. "Did that go as you hoped?"

  "Hardly." Wilkinson checked his watch. "Got a catch-up with my DCI in half an hour. Hopefully he'll extricate me from this."

  "Best of luck."

  "I'll need it." Wilkinson patted Cullen's shoulder. "How's the forensics going?"

  "We're waiting on Anderson." Cullen nodded over at Irvine, deep in conversation with Bain. "Need to spend time with DS Irvine to work out what he's planning to do."

  Wilkinson looked over. "He's going to get to second base with Bain by the looks of things."

  Cullen laughed. "I've thought of going over and giving them some abuse, but I just couldn't be arsed with it."

  "Good idea."

  "How's the Aitken timeline going?"

  Wilkinson sighed. "Still don't know anything about how the lad ended up there. The trail from his office last Tuesday to his body being found at the bottom of a shale bing is colder than an Edinburgh winter."

  "It's just the wind, sir. It's not that bad really."

  "I'll remind you of that in January."

  "Did they get anything on the lock-up in Ravencraig?"

  "I've got that DS Rarity going round the owners and users of the garages, but nobody's come up with anything. Or, if they have, they're not telling me."

  "All comes down to the forensics, I suppose."

  Wilkinson nodded. "Always does. We've got four victims, two potential killers and an unidentified third suspect. We need to connect the bloody dots."

  "It's all just guesswork at the moment."

  "We need a witness. One who'll talk. Dean Richardson was there. Derek Miller too, no matter how much the little shit denies it."

  "You been in with them again?"

  "Chance would be a fine thing."

  Cullen's mobile rang - unknown number. "Sorry, better take this."

  "Cullen, it's James Anderson."

  "How can I help?"

  "Can't get hold of DS Irvine. Tried his moby but no dice. Could you get your arse down here?"

  "I've got about three arses I could bring down."

  "Irvine, Bain and Wilkinson?" Anderson paused. "That's not me saying you're not an arse, by the way."

  Cullen laughed. "What have you got for us?"

  "Just got to ninety per cent on the match for that partial fingerprint. By the time the four arsemen of the apocalypse get down here, it should be finished."

  "Be there in a minute." Cullen ended the call and nodded at Wilkinson. "We're up. Come on." He headed over to Irvine and Bain. "Fingerprints are back."

  Bain frowned. "Right. Good."

  Cullen led them out into the stairwell before clattering down the steps.

  By the time they'd got to the Scenes of Crime office, Bain was in the lead. He held the door open for Cullen, the others nowhere to be seen, before scowling at Anderson. "This better fuckin' be good."

  "It's all part of the magic of Crime Scene Investigation." Anderson tapped at his screen. "Ninety-eight per cent."

  Bain pulled over a chair. "Thought you'd have some fuckin' whizz-bang thing showing it flicking through fingerprints as it went."

  Anderson scowled. "Like in a film?"

  "Aye, or in CSI."

  "This is reality, unfortunately. Besides, that shit takes up stacks of processing time to display. It's much quicker to just let it do its business in private. Much like what you need to do with me."

  Bain smiled. "You fuckin' need supervision."

  The progress bar ticked up to ninety-nine per cent.

  Wilkinson appeared, looking flustered. "You bloody got anything yet?"

  "He's keeping us in fuckin' suspense." Bain looked Wilkinson up and down. "You're not looking your usual self, Wilko."

  "Try not being SIO on your own case."

  "Don't have to imagine, Paul, it's my fuckin' life just now."

  "You'll get something soon, gaffer." Irvine sat on the edge of a desk, mouth pounding on gum.

  "There's a trend forming here, Irvine, and it's all about stuff slipping thr
ough my fingers."

  Anderson crouched in front of the machine, frantically wagging the mouse.

  Wilkinson groaned. "This better not have broken."

  "Just give me a sec." Anderson's eyes darted over the screen, his brow creasing further as time progressed. He turned around, eyes blinking. "Holy fuck."

  Wilkinson got to his feet. "Bloody spit it out."

  "We've got a match." Anderson's eyes locked on Bain. "It's Kieron Bain."

  CHAPTER 40

  "Let me fuckin' see that!" Bain pushed past Cullen and Wilkinson to look at the screen. "How's my fuckin' son even on there?"

  "We all are." Anderson tried to block him. "For crime scene elimination. How else do you think we do that?"

  "My boy hasn't got his prints on that fuckin' knife. No fuckin' way."

  "Brian, you need to leave. Now." Wilkinson grabbed Bain by the shoulders. "You shouldn't be here."

  "I'm fuckin' not leaving! Anderson's fucked it up again. It's just a partial!"

  Cullen went to help Wilkinson. "You need to leave, sir."

  "This is a fuckin' partial!"

  Anderson peered at the screen. "Brian, it's just part of the thumb and index finger of the right hand but it's a one hundred per cent match. Your son handled that knife."

  "That's not enough to convict. There could be a fuckin' innocent explanation for this." Bain glared at Anderson. "Some boys got slotted in a quarry. The knife's in some ned's flat. How the fuck could his prints be on it?"

  "We'll find out." Cullen let go of Bain. He nodded at Wilkinson, trying to get him to take over. "DS Irvine and I are responsible for this. You two need to speak to Cargill or Turnbull."

  Wilkinson grabbed Bain by the arm. "Come on."

  Bain swiped his hand away. "Get the fuck off me."

  "I don't want to have to use force."

  "Fine." Bain ran his hand over his shaved scalp. "We're going to Jim Turnbull about this, not fuckin' Cargill."

  "Come on, then." Wilkinson led Bain out of the room.

  Cullen let out a sigh. "What a fucking mess."

  Irvine slumped back against the desk. "What do you want to do next?"

  "Eh? You're in charge here, Sarge. What do you want to do?"

  "Aye, right. Just been thinking. Once the gaffer's been to see the powers that be, we need to speak to Cargill."

  "We need to tell her now."

  "We need to check whether Kieron was actually there." Irvine turned to look at Anderson. "Could the print have been placed after the event?"

  "You've watched too many Bourne films. You'd need to be a professional in the secret service. CIA, MI6, shite like that. We're talking about a bunch of neds battering each other in a quarry. Besides, the blood pattern on his print's consistent with him using the knife."

  "Right." Irvine looked to Cullen. "Let's you and me go and review Wilko's case file just now."

  "We need to tell Cargill."

  "She put me in charge, Cullen, not you. We need to prove Kieron Bain there."

  Cullen folded his arms. "We've got a couple of people we know were there."

  "Who?"

  "Derek Miller and Dean Richardson."

  "Maybe." Irvine put some more gum in his mouth. "We go through their files then we speak to Cargill."

  ***

  "Seen Irvine?"

  Cullen looked up from the file. Wilkinson. "Not for a bit, why?"

  "Need to speak to him about Bain. Bloody hell." Wilkinson frowned as he looked at the file in front of Cullen. "What the hell's that?"

  "Irvine's got me going through the case file for the quarry fight."

  "My files?"

  "Aye."

  "Come on." Wilkinson grabbed Cullen by the arm and took him out into the corridor. "Why the fuck does he think he can go over my bloody team's work?"

  "Don't shoot the messenger." Cullen wriggled free of his grip and started rubbing his arm.

  "I'm ordering you to stop doing this." Wilkinson punched the wall. "I bloody knew this would happen soon as Cargill took this over."

  "Calm down. You're being paranoid."

  Wilkinson stabbed a finger in Cullen's chest. "Don't tell me to calm down."

  "This is Irvine's idea, I'm only following his instruction."

  "That's not like you, Curran."

  "Yeah, well, I got a toasting off Methven, so I'm keeping myself to myself, if you know what I mean."

  "What did Cargill say about it?"

  Cullen looked away. "We've not been."

  "You're fucking joking, aren't you?"

  "No. Haven't you?"

  "I took Bain to see Turnbull. He's not off the case, but he's to go nowhere near the quarry investigation. Just focus on Souness's background."

  "Thought he'd use it to get shot of him?"

  "He may yet." Wilkinson scowled. "I need to brief Cargill. Better it comes from one of us than Turnbull."

  Cullen stopped him leaving. "We need to prove whether Kieron was there or not."

  "We've got his fingerprints."

  "We need to back it up."

  "How?"

  "Miller and Richardson were at the quarry. One of them might place Kieron Bain at the scene of the crime. We should speak to them."

  Wilkinson screwed his eyes up. "Or they can clear him."

  "Either way, we need to figure out if they know anything. Irvine had me going through the file to see if there were any other people you've already spoken to."

  Wilkinson thought it through for a few seconds. "Richardson's still in, right?"

  CHAPTER 41

  The door opened and Richardson was brought into the interview room, wearing handcuffs and standard custody attire, an unflattering one-piece. He sat down as if he owned the place.

  The brick shithouse PCSO stayed by the door, eyes fixed on Richardson.

  Alistair Reynolds followed them in, sitting next to his client before unzipping an A4 folio case. He took some sheets of paper and a black fountain pen out, arranging them neatly on the table.

  Wilkinson grinned at the lawyer. "You ready?"

  "Yes."

  Wilkinson started the interview. "Mr Richardson, when we last spoke to you, you told us you retrieved a knife you found at Ginty's Quarry near Livingston in West Lothian. You showed us to your flat and we now have the knife in evidence."

  He got a sheet of paper from the file sitting in front of him and handed it to Reynolds. "For the record, I'm passing a copy of the summary page of the forensics report to Mr Reynolds. A full copy of the detailed report will be made available after this interview."

  Reynolds tossed it back on the table. "What am I supposed to be seeing here?"

  "You'll note the analysis confirmed three people were stabbed with the knife." Wilkinson took out another copy of the sheet and read from it. "Liam Crossan, Gordon Beveridge and Kenneth Souness."

  Richardson's eyes widened slightly but he kept quiet.

  Reynolds lined the sheet up with the report. "And?"

  "And we've therefore connected this inquiry with another ongoing investigation. Four murders."

  "If you are implying my client was at all involved in any of the murders, I seriously hope you've got solid evidence to back this up and it's not merely police conjecture."

  "What do you mean by police conjecture?"

  "I mean you should really watch your words, Inspector." Reynolds pointed at the recorder. "We're on the record here."

  "Perhaps you want to continue with the summary, sir?" Cullen tapped the sheet, trying to establish his good cop role.

  "Okay, let's push on, then." Wilkinson held the sheet up. "In addition to the three victims, we've identified three distinct prints on the knife."

  "Are any from my client? Because I assure you that-"

  Wilkinson cut him off. "Your client's prints aren't on the knife." He smiled. "We've had more than enough opportunities to get a sample of your client's fingerprints and DNA over the years."

  "Please continue."

  "T
he three prints were those of Gordon Beveridge, Alexander Aitken and Kieron Bain, a serving police officer."

  "Then why are you interviewing my client?"

  "I want to understand what happened between the last user of the knife discarding it and Mr Richardson handing us the evidence."

  Richardson sniffed. "We've been over this before."

  Cullen smiled. "Then it won't harm your case to give us it again."

  Wilkinson sat back, grinning. "Providing he tells us it the same again."

  "Just let him speak, sir."

  Wilkinson held up his hands. "Fire away."

  Richardson looked at Reynolds, who shrugged. "I picked the knife up at the quarry. I had a plastic bag on us."

  Wilkinson rolled his eyes. "That's convenient."

  "I'd bought a sausage roll and a pint of milk from Tesco for my dinner." Richardson grinned. "I'm not in the habit of chucking bags away."

  "That's very community spirited of you." Wilkinson smirked. "You must save a lot of badgers and seagulls every year."

  "I got a lift home after the fight, back to Easter Road."

  Wilkinson scowled. "Who from?"

  "A mate."

  "Who?"

  Cullen held up a hand. "It's not important, sir." He looked at Richardson. "You don't have to name names but you do need to tell us if whoever gave you a lift knew of the knife or had it in his or her possession."

  Richardson shook his head. "No. I stuck it in my jacket. Got a big pocket it fits in perfectly."

  "Is this the jacket you were wearing when we brought you in?"

  "It was, aye."

  "We'll get some forensic analysis done on the jacket to confirm your story." Cullen scribbled in his notebook. "What happened when you got back to the flat?"

  "I shoved it under my drawer."

  "You didn't touch the knife?"

  "No."

  "Why did you take it?"

  Richardson snorted. "Never know when it might come in handy."

  "So you meant to use it?"

  "No, pal." Richardson laughed. "In case anyone in the gang needed it. As ammo, likes. If any of this shite came up. Looks like it was smart of me to do it."