Fire in the Blood (Scott Cullen Mysteries) by James Ed

Author:James, Ed [James, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Published: 2013-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

Tuesday

19th June 2012

Five days later

twenty-eight

Cullen walked slowly down the street, carrying a plastic bag. Gorgie Road was heavy with foot traffic, cars and belching buses, as commuters headed home at the end of another day, just as Cullen's was beginning. Gorgie was an area that he didn't know particularly well, but he was beginning to get acquainted with it. He turned the corner, into a quieter side street, heading towards Tynecastle and the Heart of Midlothian stadium, and stopped at a black Vauxhall Astra. He opened the passenger side and got in. The car was conveniently parked for a view across the road at the block of flats.

He handed DS Alan Irvine three newspapers and took his own two out. TalkSport was on the radio, building up to some more Euro football commentary.

"You gone for your poof's papers again?" asked Irvine, pointing at Cullen's Guardian and Independent.

Cullen had once let slip to DS Irvine that his Degree was in English Literature and he'd survived no end of abuse in the canteen about it - the favourite being Irvine mincing about with a limp wrist, doing a very poor impression of Cullen's accent. Cullen hadn't seen that sort of behaviour since High School but it was alive and well in Bain's team. Cullen's choice of newspaper was another source of hilarity to Irvine.

"I'm not asking you to read them," said Cullen. "Besides, I've not seen any direct evidence that you actually can read. It's just the pictures you look at, isn't it?"

"Aye, very good," said Irvine.

They'd been sat there for four days straight, staking out a suspected drug dealer who was the lead suspect in a stabbing in Pilton. Gorgie wasn't strictly on their patch and Turnbull was embroiled in a political battle with the St Leonards crowd.

Cullen was beyond fed up of sitting with Irvine, almost to the point of feeling nostalgic for one of Bain's shambolic investigations. Irvine had previously put in a complaint against Cullen - fortunately Turnbull made it disappear - but their working relationship had gone from strained to almost a nuclear war. Cullen was glad to be working for DI Cargill on this investigation, though. The rumours of Cargill bringing in more Detective Sergeants meant that he might be able to get that promotion soon enough. That said, Cullen was close to putting his feelers out and seeing what else was available in Edinburgh, maybe back out in West Lothian.

They were settling in for the night - they'd just clocked on at 4pm and would get relieved in the morning, as happened every night. Cullen dreaded the next fourteen hours.

"Anything happen when I was away?" asked Cullen.

"What do you think?" asked Irvine. "Nothing. Cargill has got us wasting our time here." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm just thinking of the overtime. Got a boys golfing weekend in the Algarve coming up in October. Might treat myself to a new driver."

Cullen dreaded another soliloquy on the relative merits and demerits of Titleist versus Nike versus some other brand he had never heard of.

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