Devil in the Detail (Scott Cullen Mysteries) (35 page)

"Who is his solicitor?"

"McLintock," said Bain.

"Jesus Christ," said Turnbull, leaning back in his office chair. Cullen noticed Turnbull's shirt buttons strain, revealing the spider legs of his unfeasibly hairy chest, and looked away. "He'll have us for breakfast with the way that you pair are acting."

"What do you want us to do, sir?" asked Bain.

Turnbull leaned forward and adjusted his tie. "First things first, I want to know if you two can be trusted to work together."

Bain looked at Lamb, who shrugged in response. Bain looked back at Turnbull. "I believe that we can," he said.

"Second," said Turnbull, "DI Cargill is on this case as of 1400 hours tomorrow."

Cullen saw Bain gulp. "What does that mean?" asked Bain.

"It means that she will be Senior Investigating Officer, Brian," said Turnbull. "Both of you will report to her. You will be her Deputy, Brian."

"But-" started Bain.

"But nothing," said Turnbull. He leaned right forward. "Brian, we need to try out new engagement strategies with the public. Alison Cargill has been leading the thinking in that across the three largest forces in Scotland, as you well know. This is the perfect opportunity to roll that out. As soon as we go out to the press with this, the profile of this case will explode."

"That isn't what we need here," said Bain.

"I'll be the judge of what we need here," said Turnbull. "Your somewhat cavalier attitude to policing is not what could be described as being on the front foot, Brian, you know that. We need a different slant and a different approach. That much is clear."

"I thought she wasn't back till Thursday?" asked Bain.

"Well, I've asked her to come in a day early," said Turnbull. "If I hear of anything remotely like what happened downstairs then she will be in earlier. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," said Bain.

"You're dismissed," said Turnbull. "I want an hourly update from you, Brian. And I want this nonsense to absolutely, resolutely cease"

"Fine."

They got up to leave.

"Cullen, can you stay behind please?"

Cullen sat back down again, butterflies starting to flap in his stomach.

"We'll see you upstairs in the canteen," said Bain.

"Right."

The other two left the room, leaving Cullen behind, sitting facing Turnbull.

"You'll know yourself that you're highly thought of among my team," said Turnbull. "Additionally, your name is not unfamiliar with those of the upper echelons of this particular Police Service. I want to make sure that you are not tarnishing yourself with the actions of your current superiors."

Cullen rubbed his hand across his face. "I try to make sure that I don't get too involved, sir," he said, "but it's hard to when I'm working directly for DI Bain."

"I understand," said Turnbull. He looked out of his office window. "I inherited DI Bain when I took over this role from Jim Whitehead. With Bain and Wilkinson, I'm continually astonished that we solve any crimes in this city. I've tried to move them on, but it's incredibly hard in this environment. I have fought to bring another DI in, and that's DI Cargill. Things should change, Cullen, but I need to know that you're part of that glorious new future and not clinging on to Bain's coat tails."

"I wouldn't say that I'm clinging on to anything relating to DI Bain," said Cullen. "I would like to think that I carry myself in a professional manner and that I bring new methods to the table which Bain and Wilkinson don't necessarily appreciate."

"I see," said Turnbull. "And how would you say you get on with the rest of my team?"

Cullen couldn't figure out what Turnbull was getting at. "You know about my relationship with DS McNeill," said Cullen. "I get on well with DC Jain. DS Holdsworth and I get on all right. ADC Caldwell is doing well from having worked for me."

Turnbull nodded his head. "And DS Irvine?"

Cullen's pulse raced. "Alan and I have a mutual respect," was all he said.

Turnbull reached into his desk drawer and produced another sheet of paper. "Unfortunately," he said, "I received another formal complaint today. He tossed it on the desk. "This is from DS Irvine against you."

Cullen felt the colour drain from his face. "What about?" he asked. He knew exactly what it would be.

"He alleges that you grabbed him by the throat and threatened him this afternoon in a car park in Haddington," said Turnbull. "Is that true?"

Cullen felt cold sweat trickle down his spine. "That is not what happened," he said.

Turnbull raised an eyebrow. "So something happened then?"

Cullen closed his eyes. "We had an argument, that's all."

"Was it on the scale of what I witnessed downstairs?" asked Turnbull.

Cullen shook his head. "What you saw downstairs was a fight," he said. "We had an exchange of words, as a football commentator would say. Not even handbags."

"I see," said Turnbull. "Was there anyone else in the car at the time?"

"No," said Cullen, reaching for assertive but not quite managing. "We were parked at the Aldi at Haddington, waiting on uniform support. We had a lead on Jamie Cook."

"And what instigated the incident?"

Cullen looked away. "I'd rather not, if that's all the same."

"Constable, I've got a complaint lodged by one of my more experienced officers," said Turnbull. "I'm afraid that I have to know."

"Fine," said Cullen, folding his arms. "If you must know, DS Irvine called my girlfriend a 'dyke'."

"This is more Bain nonsense, isn't it?" said Turnbull.
 

"It could be attributed to him, yes."

Turnbull looked out of his window for a few moments. He looked back at Cullen, eyes boring through his skull. "Cullen, I need to know if you attacked DS Irvine."

"I can categorically state that I did not attack him."

"Are you accusing DS Irvine of lying then?" asked Turnbull.

"I do not wish to stoop to his level," said Cullen.

"I see." Turnbull picked up the complaint form. "I will have a word with the officer in question and see if I can persuade him to rescind his complaint. Lack of evidence is the grounds that I would formally suggest but there are informal measures that I will use in addition."

"Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to thank me," said Turnbull. "But if you do feel indebted to me then you could perhaps keep an eye on DI Bain and DS Lamb for me."

"I kind of have been," said Cullen. "But yes, I will."

"Thank you," said Turnbull. "I may be in your debt one day."

*

Cullen spotted Lamb and Bain at the table in the canteen that was known as 'Bollocking Corner'. It was sufficiently far away from the nearest tables and the acoustics were such that conversation didn't carry. Most dressing downs should happen in a private office or a meeting room, but sometimes none were available at the time of need. Cullen decided to leave them to their heated conversation. He joined the queue, behind what felt like half of the back shift dropping in for a break.
 

When he reached the front of the queue, Cullen felt the familiar vibration of his iPhone. He answered the call - it was the same caller as before, the same song. He closed his eyes - he hoped that they had ended with Jamie Cook's arrest. Cullen knew of apps to pre-programme phone calls and besides, Cook still had his phone on him as he wasn't under arrest, so it didn't exonerate him. Tommy Smith had not been in touch. Maybe it was time to check.

"Can I help, love?"

Cullen looked up. Barbara, the oldest and friendliest of the canteen staff, was smiling at him. "The usual," he said, pocketing his phone.

"We've run out of lettuce," she said.

"Just bacon and tomato then," he said. "Brown sauce as well."

"And the coffee?"

"Oh aye," said Cullen.

"One ninety, thanks."

Cullen paid and then waited to one side while his roll was thrown together. He looked at Bain and Lamb. They had the case file open on the table, Lamb pointing at a page, his finger stabbing the paper. They seemed amiable enough but Cullen couldn't figure out what had caused the thaw in the relationship.

"Here you are, love."

Cullen took his roll and coffee and went over to the table. He sat down opposite them and took the lid off his coffee, letting the steam escape. They both looked at him. "Just wondering which of you is getting the bollocking," he said.

"Neither," said Bain without looking up from the file. "We're trying to frame this little bastard." He looked at Cullen's tray. "You could have got me some."

"You could have got yourself some," said Cullen. "You've been up here long enough." He took a big bite of the roll. It was only then that he realised how hungry he was. The hangover was now a distant memory but he needed to get rid of the tiredness.

Bain stood up and cracked his spine. "Right, fuck it, I'm getting one," he said. "Plays merry hell with my bowels but I'm fuckin' starvin'. That fuckin' sausage roll had me doubled over on the pan earlier but beggars can't be choosers." He walked over to the queue, counting change from his pocket.

"How was Turnbull?" asked Lamb.

"You know how he is."

"Better than most," said Lamb. "Was he fishing on me and Bain?"

"Hardly," said Cullen. "Irvine's put a complaint in against me."

"Are you serious?" Lamb raised an eyebrow.

"I am."

"What for?"

"He alleges that I assaulted him," said Cullen between chews.

"Did you?"

"What do you think?"

Lamb rubbed his beard. "I've worked with him for a couple of days," he said. "I would swing for him myself." He looked at Cullen for a few moments - Cullen stared straight back. "I would suspect that he's lying, though."

"You don't think that I couldn't do it?"

Lamb laughed. "I'm not saying that."

"Cheers," said Cullen. He took another bite of the roll. "You seem relaxed."

"Aye, well, I'm not the one who had a rocket up his arse."

"You think?"

Lamb grinned. "That's classic Jim Turnbull," he said. "Bain got a toasting there but Jim will get a few hours of focus from Bain, long enough for Cargill to get her feet under the table."

"How has he been?" asked Cullen.

"Focused," said Lamb, with a smile. "He's got a few decent ideas for once. He seems to not like stress, I would suggest."

Cullen took a big drink of the stale coffee. "I wouldn't be so sure that you're in the clear," he said. "He caught you fighting with Bain."

"I would have battered him if you hadn't stepped in."

"This isn't a playground," said Cullen. "Turnbull was right, I shouldn't be the one pulling you two apart."

"Aye, whatever," said Lamb. "Let's just see what happens, okay?"

"So you've kissed and made up?" asked Cullen.

"What can I say?" said Lamb, raising his hands in the air. "We're both quick to anger. We've calmed down now."

Cullen dipped his roll in the spillage of brown sauce, doubting that they would stay calm. "Why didn't you mention the fabricated evidence?"

Lamb grinned. "I like to keep something in my back pocket," he said.

Bain put his tray down, sat and tucked into his roll. "Bacon, tattie scone and haggis," he said, through a mouthful. "Thank the fuckin' Lord for the all day breakfast roll."

"What's our plan of attack?" said Cullen.

"I got a call from Buxton when I was in the queue," said Bain, out of the side of his mouth as he chewed. "McLintock reckons that his client is just about ready to speak to us."

"Okay, so who do you want in there?" asked Cullen.

"I want both of you, at least initially," said Bain. "I want to go through his movements since Sunday morning. There must be huge holes there, not least because of the fuckin' state the wee toe rag was in. Once we've got his statement, I want you pair to tear it to shreds."

"Interview commenced at 18.54 on Tuesday the 24th January," said Bain. "Leading this interview is myself, Detective Inspector Brian Bain. Also present are Detective Sergeant William Lamb, Detective Constable Scott Cullen and Police Constable Simon Buxton. Finally, we have Jamie Cook and his solicitor, Campbell McLintock, both present." Bain cracked his knuckles. "Mr Cook, I want you to give me your movements between being released from Garleton police station on Sunday morning through to when you were picked up by PC Buxton this afternoon."

Cook grinned idiotically at Lamb. "When I was let out, I went back to my folks," he said. "They started nippin' my head the moment I got in."

"Can you please explain what you mean by 'nipping your head'?" asked Bain.

"My client means that his parents were asking where he had been," said McLintock, "and were also concerned about his wellbeing."

"Please can you tell us specifically what they were asking you about?" asked Bain.

"Usual shite."

"And what would that be?" asked Bain.

"What I'm doing with my life," said Cook, "why I wasn't at that Rainbow Group and where I'd been all night."

"And where had you been?"

Cook laughed. "In the cells, as you said."

"That's noted," said Bain. "What else did you do at your parents' house?"

"Had something to eat," said Cook. "Then I got some kip. I hadn't slept all night. I woke up later and went out."

"What time did you wake up?" asked Bain.

Cook rubbed his nose. "Half six?"

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be," said Cook. "I'm not someone that leads their life by the clock."

"Have you not got an alarm clock by your bed?" asked Bain.

"Do you think I need one?" asked Cook. "I don't work, man."

Bain scowled at Cook. "Where did you go when you went out?" he asked.

"I just hung out," said Cook. "Went to the park, but there wasn't anyone there, though."

"Is this John Knox Park in Garleton?"

"It is."

"And what did you do there?" asked Bain.

"I just sat on the swings and thought about stuff," said Cook.

"You're a very deep thinker, are you?" asked Bain.

"Inspector," said McLintock, "I don't like the tone of the question. Trying to intimidate my client is not what this interview is about."