by James Hume
Bruce frowned. ‘Thick glasses? Hang on a minute.’ He went to his car, and came back with a briefcase. He delved into it and pulled out a photo. ‘Is that him?’
Eddie nodded. ‘Yeah. He’s the drug dealer. A slippery bastard too. Kept losing him. Who is he?’
Sam cut in. ‘More importantly, do you know where he is? I want to talk to him. I want his business.’
Bruce looked from Sam to Eddie and back again. ‘Well, you can’t talk to him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s in the City Mortuary. We fished him out of the river not far from here on Saturday morning. He attempted suicide, but banged his head on the bridge and fell in the river. We’ve called it as an accidental death while drunk. His name’s Tommy Thomson. His fingerprints are all over Davy Wilson’s flat. I’d guess, from what you say, he must have used Davy Wilson’s name for his drug dealing.’
Sam got irritated at Bruce’s matter-of-fact attitude, and his anger rose. He took a deep breath to keep calm. ‘Where does Thomson live?’
‘Dalmarnock Road. Just round the corner from Wilson’s place.’
‘Have you searched Thomson’s place?’
Bruce shrugged. ‘We’ve had a look at it, but we’d no reason to search it.’
‘Well, I’ve got a reason to search it, Jack. I want that drug stash and I want it now. Let’s go and have a look.’
‘Hang on a sec. We can’t just go in mob handed. Let me have a look first.’
Sam looked at Eddie, who nodded. ‘Okay, we’ll follow you over there.’
Bruce got back into his car and drove off. Johnny followed.
Eddie turned to Sam. ‘You don’t look too happy. Something wrong?’
Sam grimaced. ‘I think that big bastard’s taking us for a ride.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘He says Thomson attempted suicide. How stupid can you get? There’s no way a drug dealer with a successful business would commit suicide. It’s ridiculous.’
‘So, what do you think?’
‘What if that big bastard knows about the drug business? He bumps off Thomson and calls it suicide. Once it all calms down, he picks up the stash and flogs it to one of his pals. Pockets the cash. Maybe even takes over the business himself?’
Eddie looked sceptical. ‘Would he be that stupid? To upset Dan and yourself? ’
‘He’s a sly bastard, Eddie. He’s far too casual about this. His reactions aren’t right. He’s got his own bloody agenda here. I’m sure of it. If there’s a stash in Thomson’s flat, I don’t want him to move it before we have a look. You go with him, Eddie. Then he can’t take it out without us knowing about it.’
‘Okay, we’ll try that.’
They parked at the end of Woddrop Street, where the tarmac became the grass of the river bank. Bruce locked his car and came over to them. ‘Just round the end of this building. It’s the next building over on the main road. I’ll only be a few minutes.’
Sam had his window down. ‘Eddie’ll come with you. Deal with any nosey-parkers.’
Bruce looked down on him for a minute. ‘Don’t think I need that, Sam.’
Sam smiled up at him. ‘Ah, you’re always better with a bit of protection. Never know what you might meet.’
Bruce glanced up as Eddie got out of the car, then shrugged. ‘Okay.’
The two of them disappeared round the end of the tenement building.
Sam put his head back against the seat. He thought about Thomson and his stash of drugs. Now he knew why Thomson hadn’t turned up at the Horseshoe Bar last Saturday. That was a bugger. But he still wanted to take over the business. How could he do it? How could he contact Thomson’s supplier? He needed these bloody pills.
He woke up with a start as the car door opened. Eddie got in beside him and Bruce got in the front. ‘I looked everywhere, Sam. There’s nothing there. He must have them hidden somewhere else.’
Sam glanced at Eddie, who shrugged. Sam leaned forward. ‘I need to see for myself, Jack. I want these bloody pills, or find a clue to his supplier.’
‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘Of course I believe you. But I know what I’m looking for. You don’t.’
‘Come on, Sam. It’s not the first time I’ve looked for a drug stash.’
‘Yeah. But these pills are different. Give me the keys and I’ll go over and have a look. Nobody’s going to know. But I’m going into that flat, Jack, one way or the other. I’ll jemmy the bloody door if I have to, and that wouldn’t look good for you. It would give you problems you don’t need. Now, give me the bloody keys and let’s get on with it.’
Bruce’s lips tightened. He glanced at Eddie and back to Sam again.
Sam leaned forward again. ‘Johnny, get that bloody jemmy out the boot.’
Johnny opened the driver’s door and moved to get out.
‘Okay. Okay.’ Bruce went into his coat pocket and pulled out the keys. ‘But don’t leave a mess like you did at Davy Wilson’s place.’
‘We won’t.’ Sam turned to Eddie. ‘Right, let’s go. You lead the way. Come on, Johnny.’
Bruce went back to his car. The three of them went round the end of the building, across the grass, and round the end of the next building into Dalmarnock Road. They went up the second close and stopped outside Thomson’s flat. Sam turned to Eddie, ‘You stay here and act like a detective on guard.’ Eddie pulled his collar up a bit.
Sam and Johnny went into the flat and checked every drawer, cupboard, or hiding place they could find. Nothing. Not even a clue. Shit.
They left the flat. Sam closed the front door and pulled the storm doors closed. He turned to Eddie, shook his head and grimaced. ‘Not a bloody thing.’
The door next to Thomson’s flat opened and a small lady peered out.
Eddie stepped forward. ‘Oh, sorry to disturb you, Mrs . . ..’ he looked at the nameplate, ‘. . ..McGregor. We’re with the police.’ He pulled out his wallet and flashed it at her.
She peered up at him. ‘Have you lot no finished here, yet?’
Eddie smiled. ‘Just a few last-minute checks.’
She nodded. ‘Oh, okay.’ She went to close her door.
‘Can I ask you something, Mrs McGregor?’
She opened the door again and leaned out. ‘Yeah. What?’
‘Have you seen anybody take anything away from Mr Thomson’s flat?’
She nodded. ‘Aye, that woman policeman took stuff last night.’
‘Who?’
‘Hold on.’ Mrs McGregor disappeared for a moment, then returned and gave Eddie a card. ‘Her. She got my key to check the place.’
Eddie looked at the card. ‘Oh, right. Did you see what she took?’
‘Aye. I heard them go downstairs and peeped out my bedroom window. She had Tommy’s suitcase, and the man had a big bag of stuff. They loaded it all into their car.’
‘Do you know who the man was?’
‘No, but he was here with her earlier. They work together.’
‘Of course. We’ve got our wires crossed here, Mrs McGregor. Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out. Thanks very much.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome, son.’ She closed her door.
Eddie handed Sam the card. It read, ‘Sandra Maxwell, Superintendent, Special Branch’
Sam looked up at Eddie. ‘Jesus Christ. What’s going on here?’
‘Come on, let’s get back to the car.’
Bruce sat in his car, head back, mouth open, fast asleep. Sam knocked the window and indicated for him to come over to their car.
Bruce rubbed his eyes. ‘Sorry. Been a long night. How did you get on?’
Sam shook his head. ‘Not a thing.’
‘Told you. There’s nothing there.’
‘But I now know where the drugs have gone.’
Bruce’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Really? Where?’
‘She’s got them.’ He passed the card forward.
Bruce glanced at it and passed it back. ‘Shit. How do yo
u know that?’
Sam took a big breath and tried to stay calm. ‘Because the next door neighbour saw her and her partner leave Thomson’s flat last night with a suitcase and a big bag of stuff. That must have been the drugs. Now, what’s going on here, Jack? What haven’t you told us?’
Bruce splayed his hands. ‘I’ve told you everything I know, Sam.’
‘But you never told me about her. Who the hell is she, and why’s she in Thomson’s flat? And she’s walked away with my drugs in a bloody suitcase. How can that happen?’
Bruce shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Sam. I saw an empty suitcase under the bed when we checked Thomson’s flat at the weekend, but we definitely didn’t see a stash of pills or drugs, that’s for sure.’
‘Well, she found them.’
Bruce screwed up his face. ‘If we’re honest, Sam, we don’t know what she found. It could have been clothes or some other evidence she took.’
‘Clothes? Are you having a bloody laugh, Jack?’
Eddie leaned over and put his hand on Sam’s arm to keep him calm. ‘What was she looking for, Jack?’ he asked.
‘She’s an interfering bitch. She came over yesterday to check if Thomson’s death might be a target killing. I mean, it’s shite. He was a depressed drunk that attempted suicide.’
Eddie leaned forward. ‘Jack, I followed him, and that’s shite. He was a sharp cookie who knew how to avoid being tailed. So, why did she think he was a target?’
‘Hang on a minute. I’ll check my notes.’ Bruce got his briefcase from the car and thumbed through the contents. He pulled out a photo and a couple of pages of typed notes. He read the notes. ‘Right. She produced a photo of this man. She thought Thomson could be a target because he had information this man wanted.’
Eddie took the picture. ‘What kind of information?’ Sam leaned over and took the photo. It showed an ordinary looking man with fair hair. Maybe the overall drug dealing boss?
Bruce shrugged. ‘She wouldn’t tell us.’
Eddie thought for a minute. ‘Do you know who this chap is?’
‘Yeah, hang on.’ Bruce read the notes again. Sam sat quiet. This big bastard was a total waste of space when it came down to it. ‘My man says the barmaid at the Boundary Bar, Peggy McLeod, told them the lad in the photo came from Amsterdam. Maxwell thinks he bumped Thomson off last Friday night and threw him in the river. She’s got half the detectives in Glasgow searching for him as we speak.’
‘So, what’s his name?’ Sam thought getting information from Bruce was like pulling teeth. Eddie had a lot more patience.
Bruce checked his notes again. ‘I don’t have it here. I’ll get it from the barmaid.’
‘So, where is she?’
Bruce thumbed through the notes again. ‘Don’t know. But I’ll get back at lunchtime and catch her in the bar. I better go and see the medics and get last night’s problem sorted.’
‘And what about the drugs stash? How do we get that?’
‘Look, Eddie, Sam. I can’t even get into her department, far less get near her evidence vault. It’s all top secret in there. Leave it with me and I’ll try and find out what they’ve got. I’ll see you back here at one o’clock.’
Bruce got out of the car, and they watched as he drove off.
Sam shook his head. ‘I don’t trust that big bugger any more,’ he murmured.
Eddie leaned over and touched his arm. ‘At the moment, you don’t have any alternative, Sammy. We’ll talk to Dan later and see if there’s anyone else we can use.’
Sam nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right, Eddie. Okay, let’s live with it for now. Let’s get back home, Johnny.’
***
At one o’clock they parked again at the end of Woddrop Street, and waited for Jack Bruce to appear. Sam picked up the photo of the fair haired man and glanced at Eddie beside him.
‘They’ll want a new distributor for Glasgow, Eddie. And I want that business. We need to find this guy. Can’t wait any longer for buggerlugs. You go to the bar and see if this Peggy McLeod’s on duty. Maybe find out about her – you know, kids or family – if we have to force her to talk?’
‘Okay. I’ll see what I can do.’ Eddie got out of the car and walked down the street.
Sam sat back. Aside from the business, he also wanted Thomson’s stash of pills. But this woman cop had them locked away. Why would she keep them? As evidence against whom and for what? Thomson had died, for Chrissake, so it couldn’t be against him.
And it wasn’t a crime to sell these pills. They weren’t illegal like cocaine or heroin. Easier to take and a superior effect. That’s what made them such a brilliant business.
He thought back to his day with Tracey. How could it be bad to feel that good? He could never figure it out. The vast majority of drug users never became addicted. Just like him, they could take it when they wanted and leave it when they didn’t. But the whole legal palaver had been built around the small minority of stupid bastards who became addicted. Like everything else politicians touched, they ended up full of smug self-satisfaction, but we ended up with the tail wagging the bloody dog.
Ten minutes later, Eddie came back to the car. ‘Yeah, she’s on duty. Typical barmaid. Late twenties. Has a nine-year-old son. Lives round this way somewhere. They close at two, so she’s free after that. If we go down there, we can watch for her.’
‘Okay, let’s do it. Still no sign of buggerlugs. Something must have happened to him. Bit bloody annoyed he didn’t let me know.’
Johnny drove to Birkwood Street, and parked. They could see the pub at the end of the street at the corner with Dalmarnock Road. Just after two o’clock a few punters appeared and the doors closed.
At quarter past, a girl emerged from a side door and walked along the pavement towards them. ‘That’s her,’ said Eddie, and opened the car door. ‘I’ll get her.’
Sam watched as Eddie stopped the girl and indicated the car. She looked at the car, but didn’t move. Eddie spoke again, and she moved towards the car. Eddie opened the rear door and helped her in. ‘This is Peggy,’ he said, closed the door and came round into the front passenger seat.
Sam smiled at her. ‘Hello, Peggy.’
She looked at him warily. ‘What do you want?’
‘I just want to talk to you for a minute. Get some information.’
‘About what?’
‘About this man here.’ He picked up the photo of the fair-haired man. ‘I understand you told the police about him, and we would like to know as well.’
She looked at the photo. ‘That’s Pieter.’
‘Pieter who?’
‘I’ll need to write it for you.’
Johnny passed a pad from the front. She wrote on it and showed it to Sam.
He looked at it. ‘Pieter van der Huizen.’
‘And who’s he?’
‘He’s an engineer from Amsterdam. He worked on the boilers in the power station over there for a couple of days.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s what he said.’
‘So, why were the police interested in him?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
Sam thought he saw a glimpse of fear in her eyes as she answered. She bloody did know. He smiled at her. ‘I hear you’ve got a nine-year-old boy, Peggy. I’ve got kids the same age. They’re a constant worry, aren’t they? Always getting into scrapes at school or on the street. We’re scared they have an accident. Now, I don’t want you to worry about your boy any more than I worry about mine, so I’d like you to tell me why the police are interested in this man. Then you don’t need to worry about your boy any more.’
Tears came up in her eyes and she looked petrified. Exactly what he wanted. He waited for her to answer.
After a couple of minutes of silence, she said, ‘Because they think he killed Tommy.’
‘Tommy Thomson?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘Why do they think that?’
> She hesitated again. ‘He bought a half bottle of whisky from us on Friday night, and I heard Tommy’s body was full of alcohol when they found it on Saturday. He hadn’t drunk much here, so I think they put two and two together and made five.’
She now talked much easier, and he believed her. ‘Do you know where he stayed?’
‘A hotel near Queen’s Park. He didn’t say the name. But he’s away back to Amsterdam.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Well, he said on Friday night he’d an early train to catch on Saturday, so I assume that’s where he went. To be honest, I don’t know where he went.’
‘Well, I heard half the detectives in Glasgow were looking for him. How could that be if he’s already gone?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know.’
Sam thought for a moment. He’d got as much as she knew. ‘Okay, Peggy, thanks for that. I’ll let you get on with the rest of your day.’
‘Can I go now?’
‘Yeah, off you go.’
She opened the door and then stopped. ‘Who are you anyway?’
He smiled at her. She had her confidence back. ‘Best not to know.’
‘Right.’ She got out of the car and walked away.
Sam sat back, looked at Eddie, and snorted. ‘We’ve got a name, but I don’t think we’re much further forward.’
‘Well, let’s think about it. I mean, Dan’s got great connections in London, and they must have links into Amsterdam. Let’s see what we can find once we get back.’
‘Okay. Let’s get back to the house, Johnny. I want a word on something else, Eddie.’
***
Sam and Eddie stretched out on separate sofas in Sam’s lounge. ‘What do you want to talk about?’ asked Eddie.
Sam outlined his thoughts about Maxwell. ‘Why would she keep these pills? Think about it. It’s not illegal to sell them. They can’t be used in evidence against Thomson. Why would she hold on to them?’
Eddie pursed his lips. ‘Fair point.’
‘Do you think I should make her an offer for them?’
‘Phew. From what Bruce said, she doesn’t sound the type.’
‘They’re all the type, Eddie. Always interested in extra cash. And once you’ve hooked them, you’ve got them forever.’