Ledmore Junction

by Ian Todd

  “Naw, ye didnae, ya lying toad, ye,” he said, gieing her a shove.

  “Ah bloody well did. Ah jist didnae want tae say, in case ye thought Ah wis stupid or something. It’s goat a kind ae pirate-ness ring tae it, so it his.”

  “Pirate-ness? Senga, Ah don’t think there’s such a word, bit Ah know whit ye mean,” he laughed. “According tae Mr Pirate-ness, his great, great, whitever, grandfather, wis confronted by a couple ae redcoats back there,” he said, pointing back tae the caravan site, which they’d walked through, hauf an hour earlier.

  “Redcoats?”

  “Government forces, who wur supporting The Duke ae Sutherland tae keep the locals, the MacKenzies and MacLeods, under the thumb.”

  “Ah’d loved tae hiv known mair aboot history when Ah wis at school, especially if Ah’d known Ah’d be living up here, in a place like this,” she sighed, looking oot towards the wee boat, leaving a dark trail in its wake, across the water, deep orange in the sunset.

  “When you wur at school, ye widnae hiv been any ae the wiser. It’s only recently that they’ve started introducing Scottish history in the schools.”

  “How dae ye know that?”

  “Ah heard it oan the radio. Anyway,” he said, looking at her.

  “Oh, sorry, carry oan.”

  “There wis a scuffle between them, efter his great, great, whitever, basically telt them tae fuck aff efter they demanded tae know whit wis in the bag he wis carrying o’er his shoulder. The auld ancestor managed tae grab wan ae the rifles…flintlocks…aff wan ae them. Anyway, tae cut a long story short, wan ae redcoats let loose wae his rifle. The bullet, or the lead ball fae it, thudded intae the stock ae the stolen flintlock, sending oor Flintlock’s auld ancestor flying backwards oan tae that arse ae his. While he wis lying there, the wan that hid jist shot at him jumped forward wae his bayonet and tried tae stab him wae it. The auld boy shot him through the chest. He couldnae leave a witness, so he jumped up and chased efter the other redcoat, who’d fucked aff tae raise the alarm, catching up wae him jist where the youth hostel is, and bayonetted him tae death. By the time he’d dragged that body back tae the wan he’d shot and slung the baith ae them aff the cliffs here intae The Minch, the redcoats hid sent oot a patrol tae look fur the two who hidnae turned up. They hung him and his three sons in wan ae the squares doon in Inverness two months later. Ever since then, there’s always been a boy named Flintlock in the McBeans…tae keep the story alive. It’s jist a pity that oor boy is the last ae the Highland McBeans,” he said, nodding towards the boat wae the dark shape ae Blackie the dug staunin proudly oan the bow.

  “Aw, is that no a sin?” Senga cooed, staunin up, looking doon at Auld Grizzly Chops, before the boat disappeared oot ae sight behind the heidland o’er tae their right.

  “Christ, ye should hear him telling the story, so ye should. Pished or no, ye’d think it only happened yesterday or the day before.”

  “And then there’s this. Who the hell wid come tae a place like this and build a wee mini castle?” she wondered, fingering the surface ae Hermit’s Castle. “Ah mean, Dolina telt me the guy spent aw his time up here, camping, right through the summer and winter building it, before disappearing jist as mysteriously as he first appeared. Nowan ever knew who he wis.”

  “Maybe he wis building a shelter fur aw the ghosts. Flintlock telt me this whole area is full ae them, so he did, efter whit the Auld Duke did tae the locals.”

  “Anyway, Ah know ye’ll hate me fur bringing this up, Johnboy, bit Ah’m still really annoyed at ye fur daeing the damage tae that truck.”

  Silence.

  “Everywan doon in Lochinver knows fine well that it wis you. They also know that ye confronted yer new pal doon in the hall car park…and that wis efter promising me that ye’d mend yer ways and no end up getting involved in anything up here.”

  “Look, Ah hear whit ye’re saying, bit it’s no in ma nature no tae come back at somewan that’s hivving a go at me. If it makes ye feel any better, Ah promise Ah won’t retaliate the next time wan ae they dickheids comes up and boots me in the baws.”

  “Look, Ah’m no hivving a go at ye, bit you retaliating might mean it’s you that ends up gaun tae jail. Hiv ye no learned yer lesson?”

  “Of course Ah’ve learned ma lesson, bit Ah’m naebody’s punch-bag either. Believe you me, if ye don’t staun up tae these kind ae basturts, they’ll walk aw o’er ye, so they will.”

  “Look, Ah’m no asking ye tae be somewan else’s punch-bag, bit ye hiv tae curb the way ye deal wae things.”

  “Look, whether ye accept it or no, Senga, these people will be back. You mark ma words.”

  Silence.

  “Ye’ll jist hiv tae find a way ae dealing wae it that isnae so confrontational. MacLeod his nothing tae lose. Somewan like you will be put away fur a long time, wae your track record.”

  “Ach, Senga, Ah am trying, believe it or no.”

  “Aye, Ah know ye ur, bit try a wee bit harder, eh?” she said encouragingly, joining him, her heid resting oan his shoulder as the sun started disappearing behind the Garrabost Peninsula oan the Isle ae Lewis in the distance.

  “Y’know. Ah dae feel differently since we moved up here. As each day goes by, Ah feel the change…inside. Ah don’t want the kind ae shit that wis happening back in the toon…or up here either. Ah dae find writing quite challenging, bit Ah enjoy it as well. Ah’m no sure whit the word is Ah’m looking fur, bit writing’s like a cleansing process, so it is. Although the story’s fiction, Ah’m hivving tae revisit things that happened in the past, trying tae recreate the same atmosphere in the story. Also, sometimes it kin be quite painful.”

  Silence.

  “So, the story is aboot Glesga…the toon?”

  “Ah suppose it’s aboot coming tae terms wae where Ah am jist noo and using ma experience tae tell a wee tale. Ah mean, it wid be difficult tae write aboot something Ah hivnae experienced or don’t know anything aboot…like being the heid ae some big company or a dashing prince sweeping Cinderella aff her feet.”

  “Well, ye swept me aff ma feet, so ye did.”

  “Aye, bit it took me…us, long enough tae dae anything aboot it,” he said, as the baith ae them chuckled.

  “Oh, Johnboy, if we ever get married, Ah’m gonnae make sure Ah wear a wee pair ae glass slippers, so Ah am,” she laughed.

  “Aye, ye’ll look cracking in them, walking doon the aisle,” he replied, straight-faced, as she cracked up again.

  “Ah absolutely love you, dae ye know that?” she said, kissing him.

  “Aye, well, so dae Ah. Right, let’s get gaun and we’ll see if we kin blag a bit ae fresh fish aff ae Auld Grizzly Chops.”

  “Oh, where’s Mr Hopkins?” she wondered, as he pulled her up oan tae her feet.

  “Ach, Ah widnae worry. He’s probably fucked aff tae welcome Blackie, ma new best pal’s dug, back fae his wee fishing expedition.”

  Chapter Fifty

  It wis the phone call fae the Highland chookter in the plus fours that hid let the cat oot ae the bag.

  “Hellooo, Mrs Jeffs,” he’d sung. “Chust a wee follow up after our recent meeting. I was wondering if you or your husband have had time to reconsider our proposal regarding Little Vestey’s Croft?”

  “Aye, well, as Ah telt ye at the time, that man ae mine’s wants tae keep it aw tae himsel, Mr MacLeod.”

  “Hmm, I see,” he’d said, no being able tae cover up his disappointment. “I’ve been instructed by my chairman, The Laird, to enquire that if we upped our offer to five thousand pounds plus costs, would that assist in resolving our little impasse?”

  “The Laird?”

  “Aye. Mr Robert Hamilton, Laird of Lochinver. He’s the chairman of Assynt Development Holdings. Lovely man. Has the well-being of the community in his heart,” he’d piped, as she jist aboot pished hersel.

  “Ach, look, Ah’m really sorry, Mr MacLeod. Honestly, that boss ae yours couldnae buy that wee but ’n’ ben fur aw the tea in China,” she’d
replied, trying no tae faint wae the realisation and keeping her voice as steady as a pickpocket’s elbow, dying tae get aff that phone.

  “Oh, I see…well, I’ll pass on the disappointing news to him. If you do change your mind, then please don’t hesitate to get back in contact. Bye for now.”

  Back in contact? She’d gie the basturt ‘back in contact.’ The pieces ae the jigsaw hid jist tumbled intae place. When she’d first spoken tae Johnboy, it hidnae crossed her mind tae push him oan whit the score wis up there. Why wid it hiv? She tried tae remember how he’d put it.

  “Jist some hoity-toity rich prick that thinks he’s a fly-man. He’s buying up aw the local properties, using shitty tactics.”

  He’d said that him and Senga hid been getting a bit ae a hard time and that pressure hid been getting applied, trying tae get them tae move oot. He’d also said that he wanted tae get wan o’er oan the prick, withoot him knowing that it wis them that hid purchased the place, or words tae that effect. She wondered where Senga wis in aw this? She knew Senga Jackson well enough tae know that she widnae want any hassle. Johnboy hid gied her that, in spades, o’er the years. The Mankys wur aw nice boys, bit trouble tended tae follow them wherever they went. They jist couldnae help themsels. Angelina MacLeod hid said that she’d never met Johnboy. He’d also asked her tae tell Angelina that it hid been Senga that hid instructed her tae contact her aboot buying the property. She suspected Senga wisnae fully aware ae whit wis gaun oan.

  She looked at her watch. It hid been two weeks since the phone call fae the Highland chookter. Cleftie hid telt her he’d probably get back tae her within a week efter she’d phoned him and telt him aboot the higher offer fae Hamilton. That hid been two weeks ago. Ach, well, it probably meant he’d been oan tae something, she mused tae hersel, as the buzzer interrupted her, making the phone dance oan her desk.

  “Aye? Good. Jist bring him through,” she said intae the mouthpiece.

  “A week?” she reminded him, lighting up, as he goat himsel comfortable, taking the file oot ae the auld ragged doctor’s bag, which bulged a lot mair than it hid the last time he’d sat opposite her.

  “Aye, well, Donna. Investigations like this, especially if they’re a wee bit complicated, hiv a habit ae trying tae trip ye up. It’s nae good me coming back tae ye hauf cocked. Ma time will aw be broken doon in ma invoice.”

  “So, whit hiv Ah goat fur ma money then?” she asked, smiling sweetly, taking a drag fae her fag-holder.

  “Assynt Development Holdings.”

  “Ah thought it wis Galbraith’s?”

  “Naw, they’re jist a Land Management Agency. Been aroond since the year dot, bit furget them. Yer man, Hamilton? He’s the sole director ae Assynt Development Holdings. It wis set up six years ago, based up in Lochinver, wae a working capital ae ten grand. They’ve expanded rapidly o’er that time and ur intae aw sorts ae stuff…land, hotels, restaurants, property, fish processing, that kind ae stuff. So, this is whit Ah’ve goat. Him and the missus moved up tae Lochinver oan a semi-permanent basis, ten years ago, efter purchasing Inver Estate, consisting ae twelve hunner acres. There wisnae a title attached tae the sale and Ah’ve no been able tae find his name attached tae any either. Included in the sale wis the main hoose itsel, Inver Hoose, and nine cottages, although they wur aw pretty rundoon. The purchase price came tae a hunner and ten thousand quid…which he purchased withoot a mortgage or loan, by the way. O’er the next two years, he spent a further twenty thousand oan renovating the main hoose and fifty-six grand upgrading the cottages. He began letting oot the cottages as holiday homes as and when they became habitable. As Ah’ve awready mentioned, six years ago, he set up Assynt Development Holdings wae a ten grand working capital. He also transferred the cottages across tae the company, alang wae the rights tae a fishing beat called Elder’s Pool, stretching two miles. Within two months ae setting up the business, he also bought Assynt Lodge fur sixty grand and spent a further twelve daeing it up. Soon efter that, he bought The Inver Hotel fur eighty and spent a further twenty five renovating it, the auld fire station fur twenty and another forty five, converting the building intae holiday flats. That’s a total ae four hunner and thirty eight thousand in his first year ae operating. The next year, 1972, he purchased three fishing trawlers and a fish processing company doon at the local harbour. Total costs, two hunner and forty five grand. Since then, he’s made numerous property purchases totalling two hunner and thirty eight grand. So, all in all, between him purchasing the estate and Assynt Development Holdings buying up everything in sight, Deputy Dawg his splashed oot o’er seven hunner and twenty grand…that we know ae, so he his,” Cleftie said, shuffling the papers back intae a neat wee bundle oan her desk. “Assynt Development Holdings hid a turno’er last year ae jist under four hunner thousand and pre-tax profits ae a hunner and eight nine.”

  Silence.

  “Oh, and by the way. His annual salary wae the polis is twenty four thousand,” he said, smiling.

  “Any earlier loans when he set up the company?”

  “Everything wis paid up front.”

  “Fuck,” she gasped, no sure whether tae be impressed or no. “Where the hell’s aw the money come fae?”

  “Well, it widnae hiv been fae the auld man’s estate. He wid’ve been lucky tae hiv walked away wae sixty tae seventy grand.”

  “Ur ye sure there isnae any partners in there, Cleftie?”

  “If there is, they’re sleepers.”

  “Employees?”

  “A couple ae domestics and a gardener at hame oan the estate. Up until the end ae March, the company hid forty five employees oan the books.”

  “Right, anything else?”

  “James Greenway, Estate Agency and Solicitors?”

  “Shuggie and Kath Morrison’s solicitor oan the dentist’s property in Belvedere gardens?”

  “He wis the executor ae auld man Hamilton’s estate. There’s yer link tae the son. He also processed the sale ae the offices roond in Renfield Street.”

  “How the fuck is a civvy oan twenty four grand a year in the polis, spending that kind ae money? It jist disnae make sense, so it disnae. Ye’re sure we’re talking aboot the same guy, Cleftie?”

  “Believe you me, Donna, he’s yer man, so he is,” he replied.

  “Ye telt me the last time we spoke that he spends a Friday running aboot daeing messages wance a month. Ye mentioned a bank. Which branch?”

  “The Clydeside up in Bishopbriggs…the wan oan the corner. Oh, in case Ah furget, there’s a couple mair clear snap-shots ae Deputy Dawg in the folder as well.”

  “Right, Cleftie, whit hiv ye goat oan next week?”

  “No that much. A couple ae cases ae adultery. Ye might know wan ae them. Clifford Burns…?”

  “The Sheriff?”

  “That’s him. He’s shagging the pants aff ae some wee court recorder, so he is, the clatty auld basturt. She’s only in her early twenties tae. Ah nearly broke ma neck climbing three flairs up the drain pipe at the back ae The Central Hotel a few weeks ago, so Ah did. Goat a cracker ae a picture ae the baith ae them at it. How the people oan either side ae them could sleep wae aw the racket he wis making, fuck knows. Hid him hauncuffed tae the bedposts, thrashing that crinkly auld arse ae his wae a cat o’ nine tails, so she did,” he said drily, as the baith ae them burst oot laughing.

  “Ach, well, it disnae make him a bad person though, dis it?” she said, smiling.

  “Hoi, everywan tae their ain flavour, that’s whit Ah always say,” Cleftie whistled indignantly, looking up at the ceiling, wearing his best, Jesus Oan The Cross expression. “Fuck, that’s nothing tae some ae them Ah’ve investigated. Ah suppose it’s the use ae the hauncuffs and the fact that he’s a sheriff that puts a different slant oan it, fae the other pervy thrashers Ah’ve hid the pleasure ae dealing wae. Anyway, whit Ah’m saying is, Ah’ll be aroond, if ma services ur required.”

  “Well, they will be. Ah want ye up tae Lochinver tae hiv a wee sniff aboot. Ah’ve goat a
good contact up there. He’s a young Turk. His name’s Johnboy Taylor. He’s no oan the blower, so Ah’ll need a few days tae make contact wae him. Ah’ll tell him whit he needs tae know. He’s been up there since the end ae March, so should hiv a few contacts that Ah’ll see if he kin introduce ye tae. Take yer lead fae him. He’s living wae his girlfriend, Senga, who’s wan ae the local Green Ladies. Whitever ye dae, don’t mention any business in front ae her, under any circumstances. She’ll go aff her trolley. Johnboy kin know anything he wants, including whit ye’ve come up wae so far.”

  “Right, fine.”

  “Oh, another thing, Cleftie. Ah wisnae gonnae mention this, bit jist tae let ye know, Johnboy’s wan ae The Mankys…or he wis…”

  “Whit, Tony Gucci’s crowd?” he yelped, clearly startled, a look ae concern spread across that disfigured face ae his. “Fuck!”

  “Ach, look, Ah widnae worry. He’s moved oan. He wis the wan that the boys and the lassies managed tae get oot ae the jail fur the shooting ae Big Liam Thompson in that bank up in Maryhill, back in nineteen seventy three. He’s a good boy, is Johnboy. Sharp as a razor, so don’t try and get anything o’er oan him.”

  “Aye, Ah know who ye’re talking aboot noo. It wis aw o’er the papers last year. Ur ye sure he’ll be okay wae somewan like me turning up?”

  “Ah’ve jist said so.”

  Silence.

  “Whit?”

  “Look, Donna, don’t take this the wrang way, bit…”

  “Bit whit?”

  “The…the Mankys. The last time Ah hid any dealings wae them…Simon Epstein, ma life flashed in front ae they eyes ae mine, so it did,” he trembled, as she laughed dismissively.

  “Look, ye’re working oan ma behauf, so ye ur. Believe you me, maist ae the time it’s aw bluff wae that wee crowd. They’re actually quite a nice bunch, wance ye get tae know them. Don’t you worry aboot a thing, Cleftie. Right, then, Ah’ll gie ye a shout and let ye know aboot the travel arrangements. In the meantime, Ah’ll get ma thinking cap oan and try and figure oot whit the next step should be.”