Cullen sat next to him, the chair crunching with effort. "What have you been up to?"
"Been through the CCTV from the Living Room and I checked it out with these Roger and Tim geezers. The story stacks up - McCoull did just hurry out of the place. Neither of them know why."
"Seems really strange. Did you see a taxi?"
"Sort of." Buxton held up a still, a grainy shot of the bar's front door as a couple in their forties entered the building, a black blur in the background moving off. "You can just make out a taxi."
"Bugger. What about the person he was with?"
"Nope. Nothing outside the bar."
"Can you get onto-"
"Already have, mate. Phoned the CCTV numpties on the Royal Mile just now. No ETA."
"You say numpty like a true native." Cullen picked up the still and examined it. Nothing conclusive, certainly nothing that tightened the timeline around McCoull. He set it down again and sniffed. "The bar manager said there were seven in the group, right?"
"Yeah. Got names of the other three and passed them to Rarity."
"Good." Cullen slumped down in a chair. "What else have you been doing?"
"Watch this." Buxton pressed play on the video app on the screen. "This is footage I did get from the CCTV control team on the Royal Mile. The numpties can do something."
Cullen frowned at the monitor - a series of shots cut across various stretches of motorway, the same BMW in each. "This is Young's car, right?"
"Yeah. Joined the A720 at Juniper Green then onto the M8 at Hermiston Gait as you'd expect. Off the M9 at Linlithgow."
"This is just snapshots, though. How do we know he was in it all the way?"
"The timing for one. It tallies with how long it takes to get up there. While I don't absolutely know he was in the car on the way there, it's pretty tight. Geezer drives slow."
Cullen grinned. "Have you been onto his phone company?"
"I haven't yet. Want me to give Tommy Smith a call?"
"Aye."
"Will do." Buxton made a note.
"What about on the way back?"
"We've got this." Buxton opened another video file and hit play.
The screen filled with a petrol forecourt, the BP logo visible. A couple of hatchbacks jerked across the tarmac, pulling up by the pumps, drivers getting out to fill up, one of them struggling as he pulled the nozzle over his Audi's roof to reach the fuel cap.
Buxton tapped the screen. "The automatic number plate stuff said he came off the M9 at Newbridge on the way back and took the A8 to the airport where he doubled back so he could stop at the BP." He raised a hand. "Before you ask, I checked with them. He bought just over sixty quid's worth of diesel, two litres of milk and a bag of biltong."
"What the hell's biltong?"
"Dried beef. Spicy. It's South African, I think. Like beef jerky."
"Whatever." Cullen burped, his bacon roll already starting to repeat on him. "So this shows Young wasn't in Juniper Green when the blaze started, right?"
"The call was made at ten p.m. This was half past. I followed his movements at that petrol station, he just goes in and out. No swapping cars, nothing like that. The car didn't leave the motorway till Newbridge, so it doesn't look like he swapped beforehand either."
"So it's him, right?"
"Yeah. I'll get the mobile records to back it up."
"Fine." Cullen got to his feet. "Come on, let's go tell Crystal."
"Been looking forward to that. Not." Buxton led out, locking the door behind them before setting off for the stairs. "Where have you been anyway?"
"Crystal toasted my nuts at my appraisal." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "Then I bumped into someone."
"Bain, right?"
"Aye."
"Right. He popped into the CCTV room. Gave me the fright of my life, mate. I heard he died."
"Rumours of his death were greatly exaggerated, sadly."
Buxton shook his head as they walked. "What did he want?"
"The usual." Cullen started up the stairs. "Saving my life, all that shit."
"You shouldn't be too much of a wanker about that. My jaw still clicks when I eat because of the fucker we were
"Been through the CCTV from the Living Room and I checked it out with these Roger and Tim geezers. The story stacks up - McCoull did just hurry out of the place. Neither of them know why."
"Seems really strange. Did you see a taxi?"
"Sort of." Buxton held up a still, a grainy shot of the bar's front door as a couple in their forties entered the building, a black blur in the background moving off. "You can just make out a taxi."
"Bugger. What about the person he was with?"
"Nope. Nothing outside the bar."
"Can you get onto-"
"Already have, mate. Phoned the CCTV numpties on the Royal Mile just now. No ETA."
"You say numpty like a true native." Cullen picked up the still and examined it. Nothing conclusive, certainly nothing that tightened the timeline around McCoull. He set it down again and sniffed. "The bar manager said there were seven in the group, right?"
"Yeah. Got names of the other three and passed them to Rarity."
"Good." Cullen slumped down in a chair. "What else have you been doing?"
"Watch this." Buxton pressed play on the video app on the screen. "This is footage I did get from the CCTV control team on the Royal Mile. The numpties can do something."
Cullen frowned at the monitor - a series of shots cut across various stretches of motorway, the same BMW in each. "This is Young's car, right?"
"Yeah. Joined the A720 at Juniper Green then onto the M8 at Hermiston Gait as you'd expect. Off the M9 at Linlithgow."
"This is just snapshots, though. How do we know he was in it all the way?"
"The timing for one. It tallies with how long it takes to get up there. While I don't absolutely know he was in the car on the way there, it's pretty tight. Geezer drives slow."
Cullen grinned. "Have you been onto his phone company?"
"I haven't yet. Want me to give Tommy Smith a call?"
"Aye."
"Will do." Buxton made a note.
"What about on the way back?"
"We've got this." Buxton opened another video file and hit play.
The screen filled with a petrol forecourt, the BP logo visible. A couple of hatchbacks jerked across the tarmac, pulling up by the pumps, drivers getting out to fill up, one of them struggling as he pulled the nozzle over his Audi's roof to reach the fuel cap.
Buxton tapped the screen. "The automatic number plate stuff said he came off the M9 at Newbridge on the way back and took the A8 to the airport where he doubled back so he could stop at the BP." He raised a hand. "Before you ask, I checked with them. He bought just over sixty quid's worth of diesel, two litres of milk and a bag of biltong."
"What the hell's biltong?"
"Dried beef. Spicy. It's South African, I think. Like beef jerky."
"Whatever." Cullen burped, his bacon roll already starting to repeat on him. "So this shows Young wasn't in Juniper Green when the blaze started, right?"
"The call was made at ten p.m. This was half past. I followed his movements at that petrol station, he just goes in and out. No swapping cars, nothing like that. The car didn't leave the motorway till Newbridge, so it doesn't look like he swapped beforehand either."
"So it's him, right?"
"Yeah. I'll get the mobile records to back it up."
"Fine." Cullen got to his feet. "Come on, let's go tell Crystal."
"Been looking forward to that. Not." Buxton led out, locking the door behind them before setting off for the stairs. "Where have you been anyway?"
"Crystal toasted my nuts at my appraisal." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "Then I bumped into someone."
"Bain, right?"
"Aye."
"Right. He popped into the CCTV room. Gave me the fright of my life, mate. I heard he died."
"Rumours of his death were greatly exaggerated, sadly."
Buxton shook his head as they walked. "What did he want?"
"The usual." Cullen started up the stairs. "Saving my life, all that shit."
"You shouldn't be too much of a wanker about that. My jaw still clicks when I eat because of the fucker we were
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