Cowboys and Indians Read Free Page A

shit these days. I’m worrying about what’s happened, what hasn’t happened.’
    Buxton scratched his beard. ‘Not a problem I’ve got.’
    ‘Didn’t think it would be. Sharon says I should try mindfulness.’
    ‘And you call me a hipster.’
    Cullen handed over a tenner and took his change. He grabbed his ginger.
    Buxton led to his table, sipping his fresh pint, getting foam all over his beard. He slurped it off. ‘That’s lovely. Sure you don’t want any?’
    Cullen perched on a stool. ‘I’m fine. How’s being back on the beat?’
    ‘Thinking about jacking it in, to be honest.’
    Cullen sipped his ginger beer. Sharp and full of elderflower. He hated elderflower. ‘You serious?’
    ‘I’m not winding you up, mate. Being back in uniform after two years as Acting DC? It’s not good.’
    ‘Wait till you see what happens with this new permanent DC gig, mate.’ Cullen swirled his glass around, the ice cubes tinkling. ‘You did apply for it?’
    ‘That form took ages.’
    ‘But you finished it?’
    ‘Sent it to HR with, like, an hour to spare.’ Another sip. ‘Thought I’d get my tenure when you got your DS.’
    ‘Methven had to soak up the cost, didn’t he? We’ve been two heads short for a year and the criminals don’t take it any easier. New financial year and it’s just getting worse.’
    ‘What, more cops on the beat?’
    ‘Got it in one. Fewer detective jobs. Political shite galore.’
    Buxton fixed a glare on Cullen. ‘I really need that job, mate.’
    ‘Leave it with me.’ Cullen grimaced through another sip of ginger beer. ‘Confident QPR’ll win the play-off final?’

    *   *   *

    Cullen shoved his leather jacket on top of his fleece on the coat rack.
    ‘Ma-wow!’ Fluffy sat in the sitting room doorway, glaring up at Cullen. ‘Ma-wow!’
    Cullen crouched down and tickled his chin. ‘I take it that’s cat for “feed me, you bastard”.’
    Fluffy reared up and rubbed against his cheek. ‘Ma-wow!’
    ‘So you do like me?’ Cullen stood up, knees creaking. He went into the kitchen area and flicked on the TV. Lower-league English football highlights played out on BBC One. He got a can of cat food from the fridge and forked it into a bowl on the counter. He hefted Fluffy up. ‘You’re not getting any lighter, mister.’
    Fluffy spread out on all fours, furry pom-poms sticking out as he ate, purring away.
    The flat door thunked open. Heels clicked on the laminate.
    Cullen leaned back against the counter. ‘That you?’
    Shoes thudded to the floor and Sharon stomped through the flat. ‘No, it’s the Easter bunny.’
    ‘Take it the interviews didn’t go as planned?’
    Sharon reached into the fridge for a half-drunk bottle of wine. ‘Could say that.’
    ‘You’ve released him?’
    ‘I don’t care what Crystal bloody Methven says.’ She sniffed the wine, poured out a glass and took a long drink. ‘This is my case and I’ll charge who I want, when I want.’
    ‘Good luck with that.’
    Fluffy chomped at a splodge of cat food. Half of it dropped onto the counter.
    Cullen stared at her wine. ‘You back in tomorrow?’
    ‘No. I’ve asked Rhona to lead.’  
    ‘Take it you’re not that convinced of his guilt?’
    Her shoulders slumped. ‘Is it that obvious?’
    ‘Hey, hey.’ He went behind her and massaged her upper back, thumbs attacking tight flesh. ‘I’m almost cutting myself on your shoulder blades.’
    ‘Scott…’
    ‘You’re taking this too personally.’
    ‘And to think I used to worry about you doing the same.’
    Cullen pecked her on the neck, wrapping his arms around her. ‘You’ll get this sick bastard, you know you will.’
    ‘Scott.’
    Another kiss, further up. Hands on her hips. ‘Mm?’
    She flinched. ‘Stop.’
    ‘Stop what?’
    ‘That.’ She stepped forward and smacked the glass down on the counter. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
    Cullen raised his hands. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘ Sorry? ’
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘What do you think,