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of Musselburgh and Prestonpans - Cullen put it down to the Orange order, though he was only aware of it being a particular blight in West Lothian.  
    Cullen stopped at the lights at the start of Garleton High Street, almost at the town's highest point. The engine idled as they waited, some cars filtering through and heading from the town centre towards North Berwick, in the direction they'd come from. The day was starting to clear, glimpses of pale blue appearing through the dark grey clouds.  
    The high street was busy, mainly full of middle-aged women struggling with shopping baskets. Several bookies lined the high street, each one seemingly having its very own punter smoking a fag outside. Cullen spotted the local Big Issue seller shoving his magazine in the faces of some of the women as they walked past.
    "I'm a bit surprised that Bain was given this case," said Caldwell.
    "I'm staggered," replied Cullen. "He's lucky to still have a job. I'm just waiting for him to go off on one. He's like a volcano - you're just waiting for the inevitable eruption."
    She laughed. "Do you think Turnbull trusts him?" she asked.
    "No idea," said Cullen. "Seems like he's got no other option just now."
    DCI Turnbull had recently bolstered his team, bringing in a new DI alongside his existing two. The rumours that Cullen had heard generally had it that Alison Cargill was both a longer term replacement for Turnbull himself as he moved further upstairs, and an insurance policy to keep Bain under control. Cullen figured that Turnbull hadn't taken into account DI Cargill being in Tenerife for two weeks while a murder came up, leaving him the choice of Bain or Wilkinson, neither of whom were exactly covered in glory.
    "Aye, well, I suppose that we're stuck with him," she said. "Feels like we're in the Special Needs class."
    "I know what you mean," he said, after he'd stopped laughing. "He's already on the wrong side of Lamb."
    "Lamb was right about the big dicks swinging around," she said. "I've got a bad case of penis envy."
    The lights finally changed and Cullen turned right down the High Street. Ancient vennels and closes led off, making the town look exactly like Edinburgh's Royal Mile. The town was perched on the Garleton Hills, cobbled streets stretching from Barnes Castle in the east to Garleton Castle in the west. They passed the modern triptych of a Subway, a McDonalds and a Starbucks alongside a couple of decent-looking old pubs and some upmarket cafés and delis. One of the oldest buildings in the town, right next to the Church, was a branch of Alba Bank. Cullen noticed that the building next door was painted bright yellow with a rainbow sign above the door - he had no idea how it could have made it past planning as most of the street was full of listed buildings.
    "Straight on at the end," she said.  
    Cullen turned off the high street and drove down Dunpender Road, the main road heading south towards the A1, the trunk road to Edinburgh. The old buildings of the high street gave way to more recent developments, all new builds - large cream houses that Cullen thought were built by two different developers to the same common designs. Garleton had once been a small village but had rapidly expanded in the 80s and again in the recent housing boom. The sprawling estates they now drove past covered the valley to the north, almost merging with Athelstaneford in the east and surrounding the Hopetoun monument.  
    "You know this area at all?" asked Cullen.
    "Aye, a bit," she replied. "We thought of moving out here a couple of years ago but never bothered."
    "Bit of a change from Clermiston," he said.
    Caldwell shrugged. "Aye, well, he could never be bothered."
    Cullen had noticed that Caldwell had a strange affectation - she never referred to her husband by his name, only by 'he' or 'him'. Cullen had learnt that he was called Rod but she hadn't called him that for a good while. As far as he could tell, there was no malice or resentment behind