I'm the Editor."
"I need to speak to Sonny Bangs as part of a murder inquiry."
"He doesn't work here any more," said Spence. "We let him go in the last round of cuts."
Cullen knew exactly what he meant. Newspaper circulation in Scotland was in free fall, continual rounds of redundancies the only weapon the owners seemed to have in their armoury. He could see a time when there was just one Scottish national paper rather than the current three.
"Can you give me a phone number?" said Cullen.
"Have you got a warrant?"
Cullen ground his teeth. "I'll get one."
"You do that," said Spence. "Now kindly clear off will you? I've got all seven days under my belt now and a Sunday edition to put to bed."
Cullen stared him down for a few seconds then decided it was best to leave it. Decimated readership figures or not, the press still had power. He nodded slowly, before leaving the building.
Cullen's Plan B was his ex-flatmate, Richard McAlpine, who worked for the paper. He got out his phone and called as he walked.
No answer.
CHAPTER 31
Cullen buzzed the door and waited. At least they'd got the intercom fixed. He felt a slight pang of guilt, realising he hadn't been back since moving out, only seeing Tom and Rich once each since.
"Yo."
"Hi Tom, it's Scott."
"Who?"
"Very funny."
"Up you come, mate."
Cullen trudged up the stairs, getting flashbacks of every time he'd climbed them, drunk and sober.
Tom stood in the doorway.
Cullen was shocked by how much weight he'd lost. "I'm looking for Tom."
"Aye, very funny," said Tom, tapping his receding belly. "5:2 fasting, mate. It bloody works."
"I can see that," said Cullen. "My old boy has been doing it. You look knackered, though."
"Cheers," said Tom as he let Cullen in. "Been working in London a lot. Big project down there in Corporate."
"Are Alba Bank branching out?" said Cullen.
Tom shrugged. "We've always had a presence down there, nothing like RBS or Lloyds have, but let's just say it needs some TLC. Bit of a fucking disaster, to be honest with you."
Cullen knew too much about Tom's employers, one of the three big banks in Edinburgh, from years of living together.
"How's my room?" said Cullen.
Tom spoke in a whisper. "The guy who rents it now is a bit of a weirdo. Don't think I'll renew his lease."
Cullen handed him a pile of CDs. "Cheers for these. Some good stuff there."
"You still love a freebie, Skinky."
Cullen laughed. "Remember when you did music? Did you ever come across a guy called Jimi Danger?"
Tom shrugged. "Is he a DJ?"
Cullen shook his head. "Sang in a band."
"Well, it's not likely a techno DJ would meet a singer from a band, is it?" said Tom.
"I guess not." Cullen shrugged. "Does the name The Invisibles mean anything to you?"
Tom frowned. "It's a comic. Grant Morrison did it. One of my very favourites."
Cullen clicked his fingers. "I knew it. It's been bugging me all day."
"I'd lend you it," said Tom, "but it's a bit advanced for you. Very metaphysical."
"Very good."
"So, what brings you back?"
"I need to speak to Rich," said Cullen.
"What's he done this time? Lost his phone again? Had to scarper from some bloke's flat after his boyfriend found them in flagrante delicto ?"
"Nothing like that," said Cullen, laughing. "You two getting on okay?"
"Yeah, fine," said Tom, looking the opposite, but as though he couldn't be arsed talking about it. "Not seen him, but I think he's in. I've been working all afternoon."
"Cheers." Cullen walked to Rich's door and knocked, knowing from bitter experience never to barge in without an invite.
"Come in," said Rich.
"Are you alone?" said Cullen, as he entered.
Rich was sitting at his desk, laptop open. His eyes widened and he slammed it shut.
"That a porn site you're on?" said Cullen.
Rich rubbed his chin. "It's a detective book I'm writing."
"Interesting."
"Aye," said Rich. "It's harder than I thought it would be. Writing about the real world is much easier than writing fiction, that's for sure.
"I need to speak to Sonny Bangs as part of a murder inquiry."
"He doesn't work here any more," said Spence. "We let him go in the last round of cuts."
Cullen knew exactly what he meant. Newspaper circulation in Scotland was in free fall, continual rounds of redundancies the only weapon the owners seemed to have in their armoury. He could see a time when there was just one Scottish national paper rather than the current three.
"Can you give me a phone number?" said Cullen.
"Have you got a warrant?"
Cullen ground his teeth. "I'll get one."
"You do that," said Spence. "Now kindly clear off will you? I've got all seven days under my belt now and a Sunday edition to put to bed."
Cullen stared him down for a few seconds then decided it was best to leave it. Decimated readership figures or not, the press still had power. He nodded slowly, before leaving the building.
Cullen's Plan B was his ex-flatmate, Richard McAlpine, who worked for the paper. He got out his phone and called as he walked.
No answer.
CHAPTER 31
Cullen buzzed the door and waited. At least they'd got the intercom fixed. He felt a slight pang of guilt, realising he hadn't been back since moving out, only seeing Tom and Rich once each since.
"Yo."
"Hi Tom, it's Scott."
"Who?"
"Very funny."
"Up you come, mate."
Cullen trudged up the stairs, getting flashbacks of every time he'd climbed them, drunk and sober.
Tom stood in the doorway.
Cullen was shocked by how much weight he'd lost. "I'm looking for Tom."
"Aye, very funny," said Tom, tapping his receding belly. "5:2 fasting, mate. It bloody works."
"I can see that," said Cullen. "My old boy has been doing it. You look knackered, though."
"Cheers," said Tom as he let Cullen in. "Been working in London a lot. Big project down there in Corporate."
"Are Alba Bank branching out?" said Cullen.
Tom shrugged. "We've always had a presence down there, nothing like RBS or Lloyds have, but let's just say it needs some TLC. Bit of a fucking disaster, to be honest with you."
Cullen knew too much about Tom's employers, one of the three big banks in Edinburgh, from years of living together.
"How's my room?" said Cullen.
Tom spoke in a whisper. "The guy who rents it now is a bit of a weirdo. Don't think I'll renew his lease."
Cullen handed him a pile of CDs. "Cheers for these. Some good stuff there."
"You still love a freebie, Skinky."
Cullen laughed. "Remember when you did music? Did you ever come across a guy called Jimi Danger?"
Tom shrugged. "Is he a DJ?"
Cullen shook his head. "Sang in a band."
"Well, it's not likely a techno DJ would meet a singer from a band, is it?" said Tom.
"I guess not." Cullen shrugged. "Does the name The Invisibles mean anything to you?"
Tom frowned. "It's a comic. Grant Morrison did it. One of my very favourites."
Cullen clicked his fingers. "I knew it. It's been bugging me all day."
"I'd lend you it," said Tom, "but it's a bit advanced for you. Very metaphysical."
"Very good."
"So, what brings you back?"
"I need to speak to Rich," said Cullen.
"What's he done this time? Lost his phone again? Had to scarper from some bloke's flat after his boyfriend found them in flagrante delicto ?"
"Nothing like that," said Cullen, laughing. "You two getting on okay?"
"Yeah, fine," said Tom, looking the opposite, but as though he couldn't be arsed talking about it. "Not seen him, but I think he's in. I've been working all afternoon."
"Cheers." Cullen walked to Rich's door and knocked, knowing from bitter experience never to barge in without an invite.
"Come in," said Rich.
"Are you alone?" said Cullen, as he entered.
Rich was sitting at his desk, laptop open. His eyes widened and he slammed it shut.
"That a porn site you're on?" said Cullen.
Rich rubbed his chin. "It's a detective book I'm writing."
"Interesting."
"Aye," said Rich. "It's harder than I thought it would be. Writing about the real world is much easier than writing fiction, that's for sure.
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