Shallow Water

by Hunter J Walker

  ‘Run, Dougie, Run…there’s fifty angry lezzies coming up those stairs.’

  He ran after Innes and followed him round the corner into Cochrane Street. As he ran after them he wondered what the CCTV cameras showed. Knox stopped running when they reached George Square and they all walked quietly down Miller Street towards the river.

  At the back of the group Douglas was soon lost as they followed Knox. Finally Innes spoke out. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Some real fun…Blue Pelican Niteclub.’ Knox replied.

  ‘Are we going to get in there after your stunt?’

  ‘No sweat, just trust me on that.’

  Ten minutes later Knox turned down a narrow street and Douglas saw a large Neon Sign running down the façade of one of the buildings advertising the Blue Pelican Niteclub. There was nothing discreet about this club and here there were two large male bouncers outside the door. They nodded to Knox as he entered and they all filed past the bouncers. Douglas felt they scrutinised him more than the others and he had a vague feeling this was a bad idea, or even a very bad idea. The room was dimly lit apart from the raised stage area with a chrome pole running from the stage to the ceiling ten feet above. Five spotlights illuminated the stage and small lights gave some light to the rest of the room, apart from the bar where the lights changed constantly from blue to red and back again.

  They sat next to the action as Knox put it. On stage a bare breasted blonde girl rotated energetically around the pole. Douglas was propelled right up to the stage and they all sat down to ogle the girl. She ignored them until Dave opened his wallet for a twenty-pound note and began waving it at her. She left the pole and did the splits in front of Dave, her thong just within his reach; he leant over the stage and slowly hooked the note into the front of the thong. She slowly rose to her feet and bent over to give them a close up view of her breasts. She moved down the line of shouting policemen until she came to Douglas and she stopped and looked him in the face. She turned around and bent over and slowly did the splits again with her crotch close enough for him to reach out and touch. She rose again, turned around and bent over until her face was close to his. She reached down with her hand and ran two fingers slowly over her crotch, covered by the thong and then she reached out and softly pressed the fingers to his lips.

  Douglas’ face turned red for the second time that day. She mouthed, bye, bye Douglas, at him and gyrated back to the pole.

  DS Bob Wyatt appeared behind Douglas. ‘Bloody hell, you’re a dark horse,’ he shouted above the music.

  When the girl had finished she ran off the stage and a girl wearing a minuscule silver bikini came on. The black haired girl climbed the pole then stopped rotating and bent over until her head almost touched the floor. Reaching behind her back and unclipping her bikini top, she threw it across the stage at Douglas; it hit his chest and fell into his lap. He looked up at the girl; she grinned at him and mouthed: Hello Douglas.

  He heard Dave in his ear. ‘Fucking hell, Dougie, I don’t believe this.’

  A sneer appeared on DS Jonnie Innes’ face. ‘I’ll put ten on him not even knowing her name.’

  Shona moved away from the pole and was shaking her ample beasts at the audience. She moved nearer until she was in front of him, with her glistening breasts close to his face, she said: ‘What’s my name, Douglas?’

  ‘Shona.’ Douglas said.

  Shona reached out and softly pressed two fingers to his lips. ‘Who’s the Sherlock then, Douglas?’

  She turned and spread her legs and bent down to face him through the resulting V. She winked at him. ‘Right first time.’

  *****

  He saw her weaving her way through the crowd. She wore a short red dress and the black high-heeled shoes he’d seen her wearing in the Blind Piper. The bikini shaped halter-neck top of the dress emphasised the curve of her breasts and the intense black of her hair contrasted with the red of the dress. He watched her until he lost sight of her behind a group of fat middle managers from a supermarket. Suddenly she reappeared by his side and before he could react, she put a hand on the back of his neck and slid onto his lap. The short dress rode up, displaying her long legs and giving him a view of her red thong.

  She whispered in his ear. ‘I hope you like the dress; I wore it just for you.’

  Before Douglas could reply she kissed him, slipping her tongue gently between his lips and pressing her breasts against his chest. She kissed him harder. The scent of her filled his nostrils. Breaking away from the kiss for a moment she whispered: ’You can touch if you want to.’ With her left hand she took his right hand and placed it on her breast, then she reached around for his left hand she placed it on her thigh where the dress ended.

  He felt her nipple harden under his hand and he could feel the start of a reaction in his groin. He could not stop it happening and the hardness pressed into her buttocks. She wriggled around in his lap and then broke off kissing to whisper into his ear: ‘Everything feels in working order down there.’

  Douglas lost all sense of time in a world of sensation, until Shona finally broke the clinch. ‘I would love to stay but I have get back to work.’ She slipped a hand down the front of her dress to retrieve a piece of paper and reaching inside his jacket she pushed it into his inside pocket. ‘It’s my number; give me a call when you need to relieve the pressure, Douglas.’ She kissed him one last time before pulling away from him and standing up. ‘Got to go,’ she said.

  He watched her until she disappeared through the door at the rear and then he walked out of the club and flagged down a black cab to take him home. It wasn’t until the cab was nearing the end of the journey that he realised what the bouncer had said in a broad Glaswegian accent: Goodbye, Mr Ashburner.

  Chapter 3

  Sunday

  Douglas awoke to a pounding headache, a furry mouth and a bladder full to bursting. He staggered out of bed and rushed headlong towards the bathroom, making it just in time to release the pressure. Afterwards he opened the bathroom cabinet, found the pack of Paracetamol and burst two of the painkillers out of the blister pack. He shuffled through to the kitchen for a glass, which he filled with water from the tap and washed down the two capsules in one long gulp. He refilled the glass twice more and drained it each time. Revived by the water he filled the kettle, replaced it on the base and switched it on. Then he put two teaspoons of instant coffee into a mug and while he waited for the kettle he stood staring out of the window trying to remember the previous night. The kettle boiled and he poured the boiling water into the mug and left it cooling while he stared out of the window again: images of the black-haired girl in the red dress returned to him in fragments and he finally remembered the taste of her kisses. He drank the coffee slowly, it was still hot and gradually felt the caffeine take away the headache and bring life back to his body.

  He showered slowly before looking in the wardrobe to find a clean shirt and a pair of faded jeans which looked as though they’d only had a couple of outings. The DI had instructed him to dress causally and he took her at her word.

  By the time he’d reached the kitchen again the pounding inside his skull had receded to the point of being just a headache. He put a slice of bread into the toaster. While he waited for the toast to pop up his mind wandered back and he remembered leaving the club and the doorman saying Goodbye, Mr Ashburner. He realised he didn’t have a clue how the man knew his name or why he was so polite.

  Douglas put on a faded denim jacket and left the flat, descending the worn flight of stairs to the street. He walked a short way to the end of Gibson Street, and then turned left and out under the framework of the iron arch with the legend THE BARRAS emblazoned over the top. When he reached London Road he turned left and proceeded along until he came to the newsagents, where he bought a paper, a packet of cheese and onion crisps and a bottle of water. He chose the paper because it featured a Glasgow murder on the front page, the water and the paper because he didn’t know how long he would be in the D
I’s car and the crisps because the DI hated the smell of cheese and onion anything. Walking back along London Road he reached the pedestrian crossing she’d mentioned and he sat down on a low wall by the crossing to wait for her. He checked his watch; it read five to ten – with luck she wouldn’t be late this morning. While he was waiting he decided to phone Susanne to ask when she would be arriving back in Glasgow – for some reason she had taken the train to Stirling for the symposium rather than go by car. She answered within two rings but before he could ask Susanne spoke first: ‘Where are you calling from, it sounds as if you’re in the street?’

  ‘I am, I’m waiting for DI Collins.’

  ‘It’s Sunday morning and I thought you had the weekend off. That woman is a pain.’

  ‘It’s the way Strathclyde Constabulary prefer it; if Collins says jump, the only thing I can say is how high?’

  ‘Yes, Douglas, I understand that, I’m a Fiscal.’

  ‘Depute Fiscal, darling.’

  ‘It’s only a matter of time, Douglas, and don’t let her impose on you. I’ll be back about seven,’ she said and rang off.

  Douglas was becoming irritated. He had been sitting in the street waiting for the DI’s car to make an appearance for the best part of twenty minutes now. He itched to call her mobile, but he knew that the resulting lecture on police etiquette would make the journey unbearable. There would be some point to this morning’s excursion, but he preferred to know what it was in advance. Finally a silver Citroen appeared and squealed to a stop at the kerb beside him. He opened the passenger door and got in. ‘A good morning to you, Inspector.’

  ‘No need for sarcasm on a Sunday, Dougie, it is the Lord’s Day, as they say in the isles.’

  ‘In which case, we would not be working on the Lord’s Day.’

  ‘Carry on in that vein, Dougie, and I’ll ring Highland Constabulary to enquire if they have a vacancy for a stroppy Detective Constable on Benbecula, or some other God-forsaken, wind-blasted chunk of rock sticking out the sea.’

  Douglas thought it better not to reply.

  Nicola drove a little way down London Road before turning off and parking the car by an overgrown fenced off site in Broad Street. Turning on the radio she settled down for what was obviously going to be a while.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ Douglas asked.

  ‘It must be obvious, even to someone with your education, Dougie, we are waiting.’

  ‘But who, or what, are we waiting for?’

  ‘That would spoil the surprise and it would be bad police procedure.’

  ‘Bad police procedure. Since when is it bad police procedure to inform your subordinates about what is going on?’

  ‘This bit of the business can only be learnt by years of hard experience, so pin back your lugholes, Dougie, listen and learn…listen and learn.’

  Douglas opened the paper and began to read about murders committed by Bible John. He only got to the second paragraph before he was interrupted.

  ‘Why are they dredging up that old one?’ Nicola asked.

  ‘Old ones – he killed three women.’

  ‘Huh, do they put a name to Bible John?’

  ‘I haven’t got that far.’

  Nicola paused for all of thirty seconds. ‘He’s another one Albert should have sent on his way.’

  Douglas gave up trying to read the paper. ‘Is Albert one of your favourite historical characters?’ he asked.

  ‘One of my great-uncles was a prison warder and he knew Albert.’

  Before he could reply Douglas felt a rush of cold air almost before he heard the car door open. He turned his head quickly, just in time to see the wizened old man from the Blind Piper slip quietly onto the back seat.

  Nicola put a hand on this arm. ‘Relax, Dougie, Wee Tam is just here for a bit of a chat.’ Turning her head towards the rear she said: ‘Long time no see, Tam.’

  ‘You gave us a fair turn in the Piper, seeing your there.’

  ‘Didn’t know you’d be there, Tam. Have you got anything for us?’

  ‘Aye, a name and the rest.’

  ‘Same place as usual?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Nicola put the car into gear and they set off. ‘Anyone in your family ever meet Albert Pierrepoint,’ she said over her shoulder.

  ‘Aaaggghhh!’

  The noise came from the backseat and almost un-nerved Douglas.

  ‘Never mention that name tae me. That man was the devil himself.’

  Nicola didn’t continue the discussion. She made a series of left and right turns in the industrial estate around Broad Street until she was satisfied they weren’t being followed and then they turned back onto the London road. They followed the road past the stadium and onto the dual carriageway. After the cemeteries and just after the M74 junction they turned right, past a car showroom and into a drive-in McDonalds. Nicola parked in the small car park and they all got out.

  It was an hour or so before the lunchtime rush and there were only a handful of customers sitting inside the restaurant. They sat at one of the tables by the window looking out over the car park.

  ‘Dougie,’ Nicola said with a grin. ‘Tam will have a double cheeseburger, large fries and a large coke, I’ll have a tea and a muffin and you can have what you want…and don’t forget the receipt.’

  ‘Dinna forget the salt and ketchup, son,’ Tam said and once he could see Douglas was out of earshot he bent his head towards Nicola. ‘That Shona Doherty has taken a fair shine tae your lad,’ he whispered.

  ‘Don’t I know it; there’ll be the Devil to pay if that girl gets her hooks into him.’

  ‘They Doherty’s are still the same as always: quick tae anger, quick tae love.’

  ‘Getting poetic in your old age, Tam?’

  ‘Aye, that’ll be right.’

  Nicola paused and she became serious. ‘Aren’t you getting a bit old for this game, I thought you’d retired.’

  ‘The pension doesnae go far.’

  ‘Wait till Dougie gets back and we’ll go through it…and then we’ll see if we can stretch the money a bit.’

  *****

  Douglas returned with a tray loaded with boxes and distributed them around the table. With his hangover still lurking at the back of his head Douglas restricted himself to a coffee. He watched Tam demolish the Double Cheeseburger and Large Fries with amazing speed and then heard him drain the Large Coke noisily through a straw. Nicola sipped her tea quietly and munched her muffin slowly. Douglas hardly touched his coffee. When he was finished Tam wiped his mouth ostentatiously with a paper napkin.

  ‘All right, what have you got for us, Tam?’ Nicola said.

  ‘The talk after you two left, was that the double-barrelled brothers had pissed off big-man Doherty; they have his money somehow and he wants it back. It must be big money, because they’re still in one piece and they sort of need to be if he’s to get the money back.’

  ‘The Cameron-Smythe brothers?’

  ‘The same.’

  Douglas noticed Tam didn’t have an accent now and wondered if he was even a real Glaswegian.

  ‘Any details about the money?’ Nicola asked.

  ‘No, just money, no drugs or anything else.’

  ‘Well, Mr Double-Barrelled doesn’t sound quite so nice after all; and it was big-man Doherty followed him out and slashed him?’

  ‘Aye, one brother turns up and leaves before Doherty appears, the other brother turns up, looks round and leaves followed by Doherty.’

  ‘Anyone prepared to be a witness?’

  ‘Nobody’s that tired of life just now.’

  ‘Just thought I’d ask.’

  Nicola took out her wallet and she held out five twenties towards Tam – a thin hand reached out and the money quickly disappeared from view.

  ‘And another twenty for the pictures?’

  ‘Twenty! Don’t you get a pensioner discount?’

  ‘I’m no’ as old as I look and yon big tubs of popcorn are pricey.’r />
  Nicola handed over another twenty.

  *****

  They dropped Tam back in a deserted Holywell Street near the Forge Shopping complex and they headed towards the station.

  ‘Dougie, you know Tam is an informant and you play these very close to your chest and never mention them to anyone, apart from the Super who keeps the register in his safe. And with this new business never and I mean never, discuss him or give his name to anyone not even those on the fifth floor. As far as you’re concerned this meeting never happened. Tam goes back to my father’s days and I don’t want anything happening to him.’

  Nicola was silent for the rest of the journey, until they drew into the car park. ‘Dougie, go talk to James double-barrelled Smythe and get the story on his brother. He should be home by now.’

  *****

  Last night had not been good for James, every time he turned over onto his left side the pain in his cheek woke him and today hadn’t been much better. He had been mooching round his flat all day periodically munching painkillers and then Joanna arrived.

  ‘Have you been out at all today?’ she asked as soon as she was through the door.

  ‘I’ll frighten the children,’ James replied.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, we’ll go to the café.’

  He reluctantly put on his jacket. But Joanna ferreted around in the cupboard and pulled out a battered brown leather jacket. ‘Your brother left it here a long time ago and it goes with your face now. Put it on’

  He did as ordered and when he looked into the full-length mirror in the entrance hall of the flat he had to admit that it looked good.