Cowboys and Indians (26 page)

‘Let me know the second she’s in custody. Okay?’

Bain crushed his can. ‘Should never have let her go in the first place.’

‘I agree.’ Cargill pressed her lips tight. ‘But, we are where we are.’

‘Interviewing a lassie like that needs experience, ma’am.’ Bain tossed the can into the bin. ‘Happy to step in if this pair manage to track her down.’

‘Agreed. DS Bain, please lead the interview.’

Cullen clenched his fists. ‘Ma’am, this is Simon’s work.’

Cargill jerked her head round to Bain. ‘Keep DS Cullen informed as to the progress of the interviews.’ She nodded at Methven. ‘Colin?’

‘I think that concludes today’s briefing. Dismissed.’

Chaos exploded around Cullen. He reached a hand out to Buxton. ‘Si, wait—’

Buxton glared as he marched off, putting his phone to his ear.

Cullen leaned back against the pillar and snorted. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Eva nudged his arm. ‘What was that about a dead end, Sarge?’

‘Politics.’

‘So I should stop looking into the drugs angle?’

‘Let’s just keep what you’re doing under the radar.’

She grinned. ‘Cowboy.’

‘So people keep saying. Get anything from your friend?’

‘Drugs Squad have Vardy under surveillance.’ She smiled. ‘Six-man team in shifts round the clock.’

‘Sounds like Wilkinson, all right.’ Cullen stared back across the empty room. ‘See if you can get close to it, okay?’

‘Will do, Sarge.’

Buxton reappeared, nodding at Eva as he pocketed his phone. ‘Just been on the blower to her parole officer, Sarge. Got another address for her.’

*
 
*
 
*

Cullen stretched out in the pool car and yawned up at the flat. Wind blew rubbish down the Bruntsfield side street. Heels clacked on both sides, women heading to buses and offices. ‘You ready to tell me what the PO told you?’

‘Candy gave her the address last night. Said it’s a stopgap after that place we raided the other day.’ Buxton let his seatbelt ride up. ‘Where’s backup?’

‘You sure you’re okay about what happened last night?’

‘Thinking I should just leave the force and get a proper job.’

‘You’re not serious, are you?’

‘Turned down for the job I’ve done for two years. Someone’s trying to tell me something.’

‘Come on, Si, the decision was out of my hands.’

‘You see how much these banking guys are making?’

‘Aye. Dealing with total arseholes all day.’

‘So do we. I’d rather earn a decent amount for it.’ Buxton tapped a finger against the glass. ‘Here’s trouble.’

A squad car pulled up, double-parking a few spaces away. Two uniforms got out, adjusting their caps against the wind.

Cullen opened the car door and jogged down the street, flashing his warrant card at them. ‘DS Cullen. You’re supporting us in apprehending the suspect.’

‘Fine, Sarge.’

‘Come on.’ Cullen trotted over to the intercom, held it down and waited.

‘What’s up?’

‘Police. Need to speak to a Christine Broadhurst.’

Static crackled out of the speaker.
‘She’s not here.’

‘We know it’s you, Candy. Let us in.’

‘Candy’s not here.’

‘You’re in serious trouble.’

‘I’m not her.’

‘Stop messing about.’

The handset clattered as it hit the wall.

Cullen nodded at the uniforms. ‘Let’s get in there.’

The bigger of the two tried the handle. The door opened. ‘It’s our lucky day.’

‘Stay here.’ Cullen entered the dank stairwell, the place stinking of mildew. ‘Top floor, Si?’

‘Always the top floor.’

Cullen led on up.

A door clicked above them.

‘What’s going on?’ Cullen peered round, catching a flash of pigtails above the banister. ‘Candy!’

Another door banged.

‘She’s gone to the other flat.’ Buxton tore up the stairs, three at a time.

Cullen barged past him. Wet footprints led along the red tiles. He knocked on the door just along the corridor. ‘Candy, this is the police!’

‘You can’t come in! This is harassment!’

‘We’ll charge you with obstructing an ongoing investigation.’

‘Speak to my lawyer!’

‘We have. He doesn’t know where you are.’

‘I’ve not done anything!’

‘So why are you hiding?’

‘I’m innocent.’

‘We’ve got an arrest warrant for you. It’s within our rights to break down this door.’

‘What?’

‘We’re permitted to enter the property by any means necessary. Your friend won’t be happy with that. Come with us and answer some questions.’

The door clicked open. Candy stood in a towel, a woman in a tracksuit behind her. She pulled the towel open, showing off her tanned body. Fake breasts, too round and too high up her chest. ‘Maybe we can come to an arrangement, boys?’

Buxton grabbed her wrist and snapped on a pair of cuffs. ‘You’re not getting out of my sight.’

Candy gasped as the towel dropped to the floor. ‘Can I at least get dressed first?’

*
 
*
 
*

Cullen wandered through the canteen, picking at bacon stuck between his teeth. Spotted Murray sitting on his own, beasting a fry-up, and headed over. ‘That looks healthy.’

‘Lots of protein, Sarge.’

‘And saturated fat and cholesterol. You’re knackered whichever way the heart disease pendulum swings.’

Murray finished chewing. ‘Yeah, good one.’

‘You seen Buxton?’

‘He’s avoiding you. Told me he didn’t get the full DC gig.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Bain told him to sit in the Obs Suite while he interviews Candy. Didn’t seem too happy with you, though. Is this what I can expect when you sponsor me for DS?’

‘You’ll be lucky.’ Cullen balled up his sandwich wrapper. ‘You found Vaccaro yet?’

‘Not quite.’

‘You heard Cargill earlier. My nuts are toast if we don’t make progress. And if my—’

‘Yeah, I get it. Mine are too.’ Murray soaked up the last of the egg yolk with his tattie scone. ‘I’ve maybe got a lead on him from the City police boy.’

‘Maybe?’

‘Seems hopeful he can get something from somewhere.’

‘Any danger of any precision here?’

Murray bit the mouthful, teeth clinking off the steel, and tapped his nose. ‘A-ha.’

‘Come on, what is it?’

‘I’m not telling you until it pays off.’

‘This sounds like some cowboy gamble.’

Murray smirked. ‘Learning from the best.’

Cullen shook his head. ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that, I need you to do me a favour.’

Murray dropped his cutlery onto the plate. ‘What?’

‘Martin Ferguson didn’t turn up to give a statement last night. Luckily Crystal forgot, otherwise he’d have another reason to bollock me at the briefing. Can you round him up?’

‘And what about you, mighty Sergeant?’

‘Off to watch Bain messing up an interview.’

*
 
*
 
*

Cullen entered the Obs Suite, upsetting the layer of dust on the computers and filing cabinets.

‘—on, princess. The more you talk, the easier it’ll be.’

Buxton glanced over at Cullen and sneered as he muted the speakers. ‘Sarge.’

Cullen planted himself next to him and focused on the screen.

Bain and McCrea sat opposite Alistair Reynolds and Candy, now wearing a tracksuit.

Cullen glanced over at Buxton. ‘You’re doing well, Si. Your head could’ve dropped after the … news.’

‘You know I’m not that sort of copper.’

‘I know. There’ll be more roles soon.’

‘They can shove them up their arses.’ Buxton turned the sound back up.

‘—eetheart, you need to speak to us.’
Bain rubbed his moustache.

‘My lawyer says I don’t.’

‘Do you listen to everything he says? If he says jump, do you ask how high first?’

‘I’m not responding to that.’

Cullen stood. ‘This isn’t getting anywhere, is it?’

‘Not really.’ Buxton slumped forward, resting his head on his arms. ‘Been like this for the last half hour.’

Cullen frowned. ‘Do you think she’s involved?’

‘Got to be, mate. Why else would she piss us about?’

‘Heard about your trick with the towel.’
Bain licked his lips, thumbed at Reynolds.
‘That how you’re paying for this guy?’

‘Inspector!’

Cullen’s phone rang. Eva. He twisted away to answer it. ‘Hey.’

‘Sarge. Just got back the Gmail account from Charlie. You know, the personal ones? Anyway, Van de Merwe got some emails from someone called “The Lady In Red Latex”.’

‘Anything of interest?’

‘I’d say they’ve been sleeping together. Looks like he was meeting her on Saturday night.’

‘Just before he died… Any idea who it is?’

‘None. Charlie’s probed the IP address. Says it’s in Edinburgh, but he can’t pin it to a user without a warrant.’

‘Shite.’ Cullen swapped hands and stared at the monitor, Candy laughing at Bain. ‘Did Charlie get a computer from either of Candy’s addresses?’

‘Don’t think so, why?’

‘What about a phone?’

‘Got a Samsung thingy.’

‘Get Tommy Smith to check if the emails came from her.’

‘Right. He’ll need a RIPSA form.’

‘I’ll get him a RIPSA. Just get him extracting emails while she’s in the interview.’

‘If it’s Candy, it proves she was screwing him, right? Shows she’s lied to us.’

‘Maybe.’ Cullen pinched his nose, still sore from the other night. He clicked his fingers. ‘She’s been inside, right? That means she’s on the DNA database. Got to go.’ He killed the call and dialled Anderson. ‘James, you got a minute?’

‘Aye, if you’re okay with me delaying finishing off some proper work.’

‘Have you finished the sex room analysis yet?’

‘If you’re recording this, you can get to fuck.’

‘Of course I’m not.’

‘Right. Well, I’m running your DNA against the NDNAD just now.’

‘Have you got a match against a Christine Broadhurst?’

‘Should I?’

‘We think she was sleeping with Van de Merwe. Can you run her DNA against the sex room?’

‘I’ll need to stop this.’

‘Go on.’

‘You’ll lose six hours of processing…’

‘Just do it.’

‘Okay. Starting again.’
Keys clattered in the background.
‘Oh, here she is. Did time, right?’

‘Correct. Call me when you get the results.’

‘Hold your horses. Tracing a record back to what we’ve found is a lot easier than what I was trying to do. Bingo. You’ve got a hit.’

‘So she was in his sex room?’

‘Aye. Hang on. Got dried saliva, vaginal lubrication and some pubes with the follicles still attached. Judging by the dates, she’d been there a few times.’

‘Cheers. That’s us even.’ Cullen ended the call and raced out into the corridor.

‘What’s up?’

Cullen grinned back at Buxton. ‘You’ll see.’ He jogged along the hallway and burst into the interview room. ‘I need a word.’

Bain glared at him. ‘What?’

‘Pause it.’ Cullen held open the door.

‘We’ll be back in a minute.’ Bain leaned over to the microphone. ‘Interview suspended at oh nine forty-two.’

Cullen waited for Bain to join him in the corridor, then shut the door.

Bain folded his arms. ‘Right, Harry fuckin’ Potter, what’ve you conjured up?’

‘I can get her.’

Bain waved an imaginary wand in the air. ‘Suspecticus confessicus.’

‘Let me take over.’

Bain opened the door. ‘Fill your fuckin’ boots.’

Cullen entered the room without a backward glance and sat next to McCrea, giving him a nod.

McCrea stabbed a thick thumb onto the recorder, hefting his bulk over the table to lean into the microphone. He ran a hand across his shaved skull as he counted to five. ‘Interview recommenced at nine forty-four a.m. DS Scott Cullen has entered the room and DS Bain has left.’

Cullen smiled at Candy. ‘Good morning, Christine.’

She tilted her head to the side and tucked her loose hair behind her ears. ‘I prefer to be called Candy.’

Cullen nodded slowly. ‘Okay, I’ll cut to the chase, shall I? Remember when we spoke to you the other night? You said something about going for a drink at Mr Van de Merwe’s house?’

‘That’s right. Just a drink.’

‘Well, we found a sex room in the house. Just finished—’

‘I wasn’t there!’

‘—running the forensics. Your DNA matches at least three separate traces.’

‘I wasn’t there!’

‘You
were
there. Having sex by the looks of things.’

‘I wasn’t!’

‘You’re in deep trouble here.’

‘I never went there!’

‘Now, we could do you for providing a false statement.’ Cullen folded his arms. ‘Or we can have another discussion about what you were
really
doing there.’

She glanced at her lawyer, then snarled at Cullen. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Did you have sex with Mr Van de Merwe?’

She plucked a lash out of her eye. ‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know exact dates.’

‘When was the last time?’

‘It’s not been for a while.’

‘Days?’

‘Weeks. Months, maybe.’

‘Were you at his house on Sunday morning?’

‘No.’

‘Saturday night?’

‘No.’

‘In the interview the other night, you said someone might’ve been with you in your bed.’

‘My boyfriend.’

‘So you’ve got a boyfriend now?’

‘Been going out a few months now. I was at his flat, sleeping.’

‘While he was out with the boys?’

‘That a problem?’

‘Why weren’t you there this morning?’

‘I was staying at a pal’s flat. He’s been busy.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us you were with him when we spoke to you the other night?’

‘Because.’

‘Because you were with him or because you weren’t?’

‘Just because.’

‘So, you’re saying you were with him?’

‘That’s right.’

‘What’s his name, Candy?’