February's Son

by Alan Parks

  McCoy was about to argue with him, tell him he could just be holding her hostage, that he might have let her go, that they would find them before he did anything, but he didn’t. He knew it as well as Cooper. Elaine Scobie was dead.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  Cooper shrugged. ‘No great loss.’

  McCoy had known Cooper long enough to know when he was lying. Also knew if Cooper wanted him and everyone else to think he didn’t care about Elaine then it was best left at that. But he remembered his face at The Inn, the simple plea – ‘Find her’. He had cared about her.

  ‘How much do you know about her and Connolly?’ he asked.

  ‘Enough.’ Cooper sat forwards, face emerging from the shadows. ‘So what is this now, a police interview?’

  ‘No. It’s me asking you a few questions that might help me find her body quicker and get Connolly put away so you can do whatever you’ve arranged for him when he gets into Barlinnie. That okay with you?’

  ‘Still sounds like a fucking polis interview to me,’ Cooper grumbled.

  ‘Was she in it with him?’ McCoy asked. ‘Did Connolly and her plan it together?’

  Cooper shook his head. ‘Not at first, not with Charlie Jackson. That came out the blue. That was all Connolly.’

  ‘But she was in it when it came to her dad?’

  Cooper took a swig from his bottle. ‘Let’s just say she had a wee word in his ear. Helped him understand how happy she’d be if her dad was gone.’

  McCoy shook his head. ‘Charming. First thing you think about after your boyfriend’s been murdered is how to hatch a plan to use the same guy to kill your father.’

  Cooper didn’t rise to the bait. ‘She was smart, knew her dad was fading away, and if she knew that then soon enough everyone else would. And by then it would be too late, too much competition. Had to move fast to make sure she was going to get what was rightly hers.’

  ‘What? By killing him?’ asked McCoy.

  ‘That’s how these things work, McCoy, you know it as well as I do. You don’t get fucking elected, you take it.’

  ‘And what was Connolly going to get out this deal?’ he asked, knowing full well.

  ‘She was going to let him fuck her brains out,’ said Cooper evenly. ‘Or so he thought.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what she’s doing now,’ said McCoy.

  ‘Don’t think so. And if she is it’s not her choice.’ Cooper shouted towards the door, ‘Billy!’

  Second or two later, Billy’s head appeared round the door.

  ‘Get us another two bottles, eh? And my fags are in my jacket.’

  Billy nodded. ‘Hughes has come round by the way, crying and babbling. What do you want me to do with him?’

  Cooper sighed, stood up. ‘Hang on.’ Walked through to the function suite.

  McCoy sat there, straining to hear. Couldn’t hear anything, just the low music from the jukebox. Whoever had put the money in was a Stones fan. ‘Jumping Jack Flash’ now. Couple of minutes went past and Cooper reappeared, bottle in each hand, fag in the corner of his mouth. Gave a bottle to McCoy and sat down.

  ‘What did you do with Hughes?’ McCoy asked.

  ‘Thought you said this wasn’t a police interview?’ Cooper took the fag packet out his pocket, got a wrap out of it, cut two big lines of speed on the table.

  ‘Where did you come into the equation with Elaine and Connolly?’

  ‘This really is a fucking police interview now,’ said Cooper, sniffing one up. He rubbed his nose, winced. Held the rolled-up fiver out to McCoy, who shook his head. Then thought differently.

  ‘Oh, fuck it,’ he said, took the note, did the other line.

  Cooper rubbed his nose again, sniffed a few times, took another swig of beer. ‘Plan was I was going to get rid of Connolly after he’d done the dirty deed, but that didn’t really work out. Cunt was madder than she thought. He disappeared, said he was hiding until his mission was complete.’

  ‘His mission?’

  ‘That’s what he said. Was always reading these books about Nazi troops and all that kind of shite.’

  ‘Sven Hassel?’

  Cooper nodded. ‘She was going to tell him to meet her in a hotel and when he turned up I’d be there instead. But after he did Jake Scobie, he didn’t appear again. She couldn’t get a hold of him, fucking vanished into thin air. First time she saw him must have been when the fucker pulled her up into the roof, and by that time he knew all about me. Game was up.’

  ‘It was him that slashed you, wasn’t it? Nothing to do with Scobie’s boys.’

  He looked genuinely surprised. ‘Smart arse, right enough. Fucker came at me like a bat out of hell. Billy battered him with a hammer and he ran for it. Thank fuck.’

  ‘What did he tell you?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Come on, Cooper. He told you something. That’s why you’re so sure she’s dead, isn’t it?’

  Cooper had that look on his face again, trying to look like he didn’t care. ‘He told me they were going to be together for ever.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Only one way that can happen, eh?’

  ‘You think he’s killed himself?’

  ‘Yep.’ He stood up. ‘Now, if you’ve finished your fucking interview, Detective McCoy, beat it. I’ve got stuff to do.’

  she’s holding my hand.

  Her eyes have opened again

  she’s watching me with love.

  I crush another two and put them in the red wine hold it p to hermouth

  she drinks it.

  her ey es close again.

  I ease her dresss off herbrahertights her knickers

  Whatever I

  have

  done i have done fr

  this moment

  it is worth it

  THIRTY-THREE

  ‘You going to tell Murray?’

  ‘Tell him what?’ asked McCoy.

  ‘You kidding me?’ Wattie sounded incredulous. ‘Hughes sitting there half fucking slashed to death for one. What Cooper and his troops are up to for another!’ He stopped the car at the lights at Bilsland Drive. Looked at McCoy.

  ‘Now why would I do that?’

  The lights changed and Wattie moved on. McCoy started looking for his cigarettes, was sure he’d left them in his coat pocket. Speed was starting to kick in. He really needed a cigarette. Found them. Looked up and realised Wattie was pulling the car over.

  ‘What you doing?’

  Wattie stopped the car, took the keys out the ignition. The Viva spluttered to a halt. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said, turning to face McCoy.

  ‘Why?’ asked McCoy, lighting up. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Me!’ Wattie shouted. ‘I’ve not done anything! It’s you! You’re not going to tell Murray!’

  McCoy sighed. ‘Start the car, keep driving until we get to the Round Toll, turn into Possil Road.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Two reasons. One because I fucking told you to and two because I want to show you something. That all right with you, is it?’

  Wattie turned the key in the ignition, started the car. Couple of minutes later they turned into Possil Road, started up the hill.

  McCoy pointed. ‘Turn right just after the bridge.’

  Wattie peered out the window. ‘The Whisky Bond? That where we’re going?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Wattie pulled up by the big brick building – no lights on, all shut up for the night – and parked the car by the far wall. Turned to McCoy. ‘What now?’

  McCoy opened the car door. Immediate blast of cold air. ‘Follow me.’

  Wattie cursed, shouted after him, ‘It’s freezing out there!’ No response. ‘McCoy!’

  McCoy stood by the wall overlooking the canal, managed to get a fag lit in the wind. Canal was inky black, surface rippling in the wind. Wattie appeared beside him, hands deep in pockets, scarf round his neck.

  ‘Well?’ said Wattie. ‘We here just so I can freeze my bollocks off?’

>   ‘What exactly is it you’re wanting me to tell Murray?’

  Wattie pushed the hair back from his forehead, looked frustrated. ‘That Cooper slashed fuck out that guy! That they’re going to wreak bloody mayhem tonight!’

  ‘Look,’ said McCoy, pointing out over the canal towards the city. You could see most of it from up here, lights shining through the rain and the mist. The high flats at Cedar Street, Park Church Tower behind that, new flats being built at Farnell Street, city centre beyond.

  ‘Remember when you and I had that wee chat in Wypers a few weeks ago? When I told you this was the big bad city? Did that no go in?’

  ‘Yes, but—’ said Wattie.

  ‘But what? You still think we’re here to solve crimes like Dixon of bloody Dock Green?’ He pointed at the city laid out in front of them. ‘Look at it! It’s nearly a million bloody people! Wheels need to keep turning. Life needs to go on.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ asked Wattie, looking puzzled.

  ‘What we’re really here to do – me, you, all the bloody Glasgow polis – is minimise damage. That’s what I told you this afternoon. Time for you to meet the big boys. Time to start dealing with them. I’m no always gonnae be with you holding your hand.’

  Wattie looked dubious.

  ‘What? No believe me?’

  ‘No, it’s just him sitting there all covered in blood, slashes everywhere. It was horrible.’

  ‘Fuck him. He’s done worse to other people and done it more than once. Scobie’s gone.’ McCoy gestured back over his shoulder. ‘There’s a vacuum on the Northside. Sooner and quicker that vacuum gets filled, the better for everyone. Cooper’s going do it tonight. By tomorrow he’ll be running things. One night of mayhem is better than a month-long fucking full-out war, believe me. I’ve been through it before.’

  McCoy dropped his cigarette in a puddle, watched it fizzle out. ‘And now Cooper and Billy Weir know who you are, you managed not to act like a total arse—’

  ‘Thanks a fucking lot.’

  ‘—and so now they’ll be okay when they have to deal with you and you’ve got what you wanted. A direct connection with the new kings of the Northside. More than any other lazy cunt in the shop has. Now, come on, I’m fucking freezing out here and we need to go and tell Murray that Elaine was playing us along all the time. Just like he said she was.’

  They drove back, stopped at the lights by Millie’s Motors on the way. Rows of Cortinas and Hillman Imps covered in snow in the forecourt. Huge sign with a drawing of a woman with a low-cut black dress, blonde hair and a huge speech bubble with ‘See Anything You Fancy??’ coming out her mouth.

  McCoy smiled to himself. Didn’t know if it was the speed or he was just in a good mood, but sometimes he really did love Glasgow.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘. . . she was the one that suggested to him that he kill her father. Cooper said she didn’t know about Charlie Jackson but I have my doubts. Either way, she’s a nasty piece of work. If by some chance she’s still alive we could charge her with accessory to murder at least.’

  He waited. Nothing. ‘You were right all along.’

  Murray sat forward in his chair, put his elbows on his desk, looked McCoy in the eye. ‘Are you telling me your pal Stevie Cooper knew what was going on and we didn’t?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure he knew before the actual—’

  Murray held his hand up. McCoy shut up.

  ‘Are you telling me he had vital information about a murder case and didn’t tell you?’

  McCoy sat there. Looked glum. Stupidly thought Murray would be happy that his suspicions were right, that Elaine was up to her neck in it. Red was spreading up Murray’s fat neck into his face; he was holding his pencil too tight, knuckles going white.

  ‘And where is Cooper now?’ he said quietly.

  This was getting worse and worse. Usually when Murray was angry he would shout and scream and it would all blow over in a couple of hours. Not this time. He was staying calm, deadly calm.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said McCoy.

  ‘Let me tell you something, Detective McCoy. I’m getting mighty sick of your wee chats with that cunt Cooper. He helped you out in that bloody house in Park Circus so I was going to look the other way for a while – not any more. You’re getting far too fucking pleased with yourself. Hanging about with your gangster mates, thinking you’re a fucking big man.’

  McCoy was going to say something but suddenly didn’t know what. Half of him knew Murray was right. Had been showing off to Wattie taking him up to the Viking. Letting him think he was part of the new power in the Northside.

  Murray was off again. ‘The minute this Connolly business is over, I’m going for Cooper and believe me I will get him. I am going to get the cunt in and I am going to charge him with obstruction and any other fucking thing I can think of.’

  He leaned forward, face inches from McCoy’s. ‘I am going to nail that cunt to the wall. Do you understand me?’ McCoy nodded. ‘And if I hear one fucking whisper that you tried to warn him I’m going to nail you up next to him. Understood, Detective McCoy?’

  McCoy nodded again, wishing this was over.

  ‘Now get the fuck out my sight.’

  McCoy walked out Murray’s office, sat back down at his desk. Wasn’t quite sure how it had gone so wrong. Was his fault. Too bloody eager to tell Murray without thinking it through. Too eager to show off what he’d found out.

  He opened his jotter, looked at the names and dates. Couldn’t think about anything else but what Cooper was going to do when he found out Murray was on a personal crusade against him. All because he couldn’t keep his trap shut.

  ‘Wakey, wakey!’ He looked up and Thomson was standing by his desk. ‘There’s someone waiting for you at the front desk.’

  For one stupid minute his heart raced, thought it might be Cooper. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Didn’t give his name, just grabbed me as I was coming through. Told me he needed to speak to you urgently.’

  McCoy opened the door to the front office, saw who it was, cursed Thomson. Charlie the Pram was sitting on the bench beneath the ‘Don’t Be an Amber Gambler’ poster. Last thing he fucking needed.

  Billy the desk sergeant looked up from the ledger, grinned. ‘That’s Mr McCoy here for you now, sir.’

  Charlie looked relieved, took off his battered trilby. ‘Mr McCoy. Thank God you’re here.’

  McCoy sat down beside him, tried to breathe through his mouth. He wasn’t looking good, Charlie. Painfully thin, eyes going everywhere, forehead bleeding and scratched.

  ‘What’s up, Charlie?’ asked McCoy, realised what it was as soon as he said it. He didn’t have his pram with him.

  ‘They took it, the bastards took it.’

  ‘Christ, Charlie, I’m sorry. When did you last have it?’

  His eyes were brimming with tears. ‘This morning, hadnae slept all night, lay down by the bins behind Arnott’s, forgot to tie it to my leg.’ He looked at McCoy, clean lines down his face where the tears had cut through the grime. ‘I had everything in there – everything.’

  ‘I know, Charlie, I know. Look, it’s bound to turn up. I’ll get the boys to keep an eye out for it, see if we can find it, okay?’

  He nodded, looked utterly dejected. One last boot in the face he didn’t need.

  McCoy dug in his pocket, got a fiver out. ‘Take this. Get a room in the Great Eastern tonight, get warm. Then tomorrow go down to Paddy’s. Should be enough left to get you another pram just in case, eh?’

  Charlie took the fiver. McCoy noticed he had something folded up in his other hand. One of the pamphlets that wanker Abrahams had left on the desk.

  Charlie saw him looking at it. ‘Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s what I need, eh? A lobotomy. Says here you’ll never feel depressed again, cures it.’

  McCoy held out his hand. ‘Give us it, Charlie. That’s the last thing anybody needs.’

  Charlie handed it over. McCoy stood up. Helped Charli
e up. ‘Come on, get to the Eastern before it fills up, eh?’ Charlie nodded. ‘Get the new pram tomorrow, come back and see me in a couple of days, see if we’ve found the old one, okay?’

  Charlie put his hat back on, headed for the door. McCoy watched him go. Even with this shit with Cooper he couldn’t feel too sorry for himself. Charlie, Joe Brady, things could always be worse. He turned to Billy. He was looking at him shaking his head.

  ‘You’re a soft touch, McCoy.’

  ‘Aye well, someone’s got to be.’ He realised he still had the pamphlet in his hand. Unfolded it. Held it up.

  ‘See the wee speccy cunt that left these here?’ Billy nodded. ‘He comes in here again, chase the wee fucker.’

  He walked back through into the shop. Murray was standing at his desk, file in his hand.

  ‘Sir?’

  Murray didn’t look happy, handed it to him. ‘Got Williams from Eastern to have another look at Kenny Burgess’ murder.’

  McCoy took it, sat down.

  ‘He’s not sure the same person that killed Charlie Jackson and Jake Scobie killed Kenny Burgess.’

  ‘What? How?’ McCoy’s stomach was flopping over. Thought he’d got away with that one, proved that Connolly did it. No further investigation, no danger for him and Cooper.

  ‘One of the maids at the Albany reports seeing two men coming out Burgess’ room about five o’clock. She was off, had flu, didn’t get interviewed until yesterday.’

  McCoy was trying to hold it together. Could see his hands shaking on the desk.

  ‘It’s probably nothing. You and Wattie check it out. Let me know if you find anything.’

  McCoy nodded. ‘Will do.’

  Murray went back to his office. McCoy sat there trying to breathe slowly, to not panic. All he had to do was make sure he didn’t find anything else out, let Murray know it was a false alarm, a dead lead, and everything would be okay.

  He opened the report, started reading. All the maid said was that she came out a room a few doors down to get some more furniture polish off her cart and she saw two men come out of Burgess’ room. Said they both looked normal, nothing special, wearing suits and ties, one of them had a sports bag. She went back into the room she was cleaning and didn’t think any more about it until she got back to work and Williams asked to interview her.