around the door. "Do either of you fancy a bacon roll?"
Cullen shook his head. "I'm fine."
Buxton nodded. "Brown sauce, cheers."
Methven left them to it, pacing off down the length of the office space, hand in his pocket.
Buxton grinned. "See, he's not too bad."
"Whatever." Cullen switched his laptop on and logged onto the PNC, executing a check on McCoull. Nothing jumped out at him. Except for the latest entry. He nudged at Buxton. "Have you seen this?"
Buxton wheeled over. "What's this?"
"The PNC."
"I was just in there myself. That's the burglary at McCoull's house in June, right?"
"You knew about it?"
"Just found out, mate. Don't go off the deep end, okay?"
"Have you done anything with it?"
"Just off the blower with the investigating officer."
"What was taken?"
"That's the thing. Doesn't look like anything was missing. Just rearranged."
"That's odd."
"Tell me about it. What do you think it means?"
"No idea." Cullen leaned back in his seat. Why rob a house and not take anything? He stared at the screen, the pixels shifting in and out of focus. The line above it looked odd. He tapped the screen. "Action Fraud is that hotline for grassing people up, right?"
"Yeah. What's it mean?"
Cullen selected the row and accessed the full data view. "Looks like there's an action pending by the National Fraud Intelligence Bureau."
"That's City of London police, right?"
"Think so." Cullen read through the text, the last update by Det Insp Jeremy Atherton . "Looks like McCoull was being investigated for tax 'irregularities'."
"Shall we call him?"
"We can try." Cullen locked the laptop and got to his feet. "Come on, grab your coat."
"What about my roll?"
Chapter 28
"That DI Atherton's definitely away. Just got through to his guv'nor. Three weeks in Australia." Buxton rang the bell and waited. "But, of course, you reckon Young knows something."
"If he doesn't, we're waiting till DI Atherton's back from the beach and barbecues." Cullen looked around the street, the front windows of the houses lit up in the mid-morning gloom. A few kids cycled around, presumably on their main presents, while others used scooters or radio controlled cars. "I used to love Christmas morning. Seeing what my mates got, playing with my own new gear."
"I thought you were all Scrooge about Christmas."
Cullen shrugged. "Give me a Super Nintendo and I'm anyone's."
"I was more of a Playstation kid." Buxton smirked as the front door opened.
"Officers." Young stood there, wearing the same apron as the previous day. "What is it this time?"
"Need to ask you a few supplementary questions, sir."
Young shook his head. "Not today, I'm afraid."
"It's important."
"I'm sure it is. But it can wait. I'm just about to get the turkey in the oven then I have to drive to North Berwick to collect my in-laws."
"We can do this down the station, if you'd prefer?"
"Very well." Young flared his nostrils as he showed them inside, the house filled with the reek of the oven as it heated burnt-on grease. He led them into the study and sat, arms crossed, feet tapping. "Well, what is it?"
Cullen took his time getting out his notebook. Let's throw a curve ball first. "Mr Young, do you know who stands to inherit Mr McCoull's estate?"
"I'm not privy to that sort of information, I'm afraid."
"Do you know who his lawyers are?"
"McLintock or something. Why?"
"Thanks." Cullen sighed. Campbell McLintock was the last person he wanted to speak to. "We understand you were being investigated by HMRC?"
" We weren't. It was just Steven."
"Go on."
"It was nothing. Really."
"I'm not sure they'd agree with you. A DI in City of London police was investigating."
Young steepled his fingers, flexing them in a quick rhythm. "Listen, somebody got carried away about Steven putting his golf club membership through the company. It was a fair whack of cash, admittedly, but nothing too bad, you know?"
"Why would he do that in the first place?"
"Because otherwise you're paying it
Cullen shook his head. "I'm fine."
Buxton nodded. "Brown sauce, cheers."
Methven left them to it, pacing off down the length of the office space, hand in his pocket.
Buxton grinned. "See, he's not too bad."
"Whatever." Cullen switched his laptop on and logged onto the PNC, executing a check on McCoull. Nothing jumped out at him. Except for the latest entry. He nudged at Buxton. "Have you seen this?"
Buxton wheeled over. "What's this?"
"The PNC."
"I was just in there myself. That's the burglary at McCoull's house in June, right?"
"You knew about it?"
"Just found out, mate. Don't go off the deep end, okay?"
"Have you done anything with it?"
"Just off the blower with the investigating officer."
"What was taken?"
"That's the thing. Doesn't look like anything was missing. Just rearranged."
"That's odd."
"Tell me about it. What do you think it means?"
"No idea." Cullen leaned back in his seat. Why rob a house and not take anything? He stared at the screen, the pixels shifting in and out of focus. The line above it looked odd. He tapped the screen. "Action Fraud is that hotline for grassing people up, right?"
"Yeah. What's it mean?"
Cullen selected the row and accessed the full data view. "Looks like there's an action pending by the National Fraud Intelligence Bureau."
"That's City of London police, right?"
"Think so." Cullen read through the text, the last update by Det Insp Jeremy Atherton . "Looks like McCoull was being investigated for tax 'irregularities'."
"Shall we call him?"
"We can try." Cullen locked the laptop and got to his feet. "Come on, grab your coat."
"What about my roll?"
Chapter 28
"That DI Atherton's definitely away. Just got through to his guv'nor. Three weeks in Australia." Buxton rang the bell and waited. "But, of course, you reckon Young knows something."
"If he doesn't, we're waiting till DI Atherton's back from the beach and barbecues." Cullen looked around the street, the front windows of the houses lit up in the mid-morning gloom. A few kids cycled around, presumably on their main presents, while others used scooters or radio controlled cars. "I used to love Christmas morning. Seeing what my mates got, playing with my own new gear."
"I thought you were all Scrooge about Christmas."
Cullen shrugged. "Give me a Super Nintendo and I'm anyone's."
"I was more of a Playstation kid." Buxton smirked as the front door opened.
"Officers." Young stood there, wearing the same apron as the previous day. "What is it this time?"
"Need to ask you a few supplementary questions, sir."
Young shook his head. "Not today, I'm afraid."
"It's important."
"I'm sure it is. But it can wait. I'm just about to get the turkey in the oven then I have to drive to North Berwick to collect my in-laws."
"We can do this down the station, if you'd prefer?"
"Very well." Young flared his nostrils as he showed them inside, the house filled with the reek of the oven as it heated burnt-on grease. He led them into the study and sat, arms crossed, feet tapping. "Well, what is it?"
Cullen took his time getting out his notebook. Let's throw a curve ball first. "Mr Young, do you know who stands to inherit Mr McCoull's estate?"
"I'm not privy to that sort of information, I'm afraid."
"Do you know who his lawyers are?"
"McLintock or something. Why?"
"Thanks." Cullen sighed. Campbell McLintock was the last person he wanted to speak to. "We understand you were being investigated by HMRC?"
" We weren't. It was just Steven."
"Go on."
"It was nothing. Really."
"I'm not sure they'd agree with you. A DI in City of London police was investigating."
Young steepled his fingers, flexing them in a quick rhythm. "Listen, somebody got carried away about Steven putting his golf club membership through the company. It was a fair whack of cash, admittedly, but nothing too bad, you know?"
"Why would he do that in the first place?"
"Because otherwise you're paying it
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