by Ian Todd
“Aw this seems a bit fishy, so it dis.”
“Whit dis?”
“You. It aw seems sorta convenient, so it dis.”
“Of course it’s convenient. It means these basturts hiv been done bang tae rights…leaving me…us, tae get oan wae oor lives…that is, if that’s whit ye want?” he said, looking intae her eyes.
Silence.
“Look, Ah hiv tae go. Ah’m gonnae be late. You and me need tae sit doon and hiv a right serious discussion, so we dae,” she warned him, staunin up.
“Aboot whit?”
“Aboot whit? Ur you taking the piss or jist plain stupid? Ah’m no sure there’s a future fur us.”
“Why? Ye asked me tae get shot ae the gun, which Ah did...fuck, Ah even helped the polis, against ma better judgement, tae solve the crime ae the century up here. Ah thought ye’d be pleased?”
“Look, Johnboy, this isnae aboot control,” she huffed, sounding exasperated. “That’s the problem wae you. You see everything in black and white. You believe Ah’m trying tae control you. Whit Ah’m wanting is a loving relationship based oan respect and honesty wae the person Ah love.”
“Aye and?”
“Look, Ah cannae speak jist noo. Ah hiv tae go,” she suddenly said, turning and walking oot the room tae the front door, before turning back and reappearing in the living room. “There’s been nothing bit trouble aboot here since that bloody crow turned up. This might sound terrible, bit ye’ll need tae get shot ae it.”
“Ye made me get rid ae the gun, remember?”
“Don’t get smart wae me, Johnboy Taylor. Dae something aboot it. Catch it and get wan ae yer pals tae dump it back doon tae Ledmore Junction or wherever. It gies me the creeps. Ah don’t want tae see that evil thing hinging aboot that shed roof by the time Ah get back fae ma work the night.”
Chapter Sixty Three
The Laird decided tae coont tae ten before he spoke. He wanted tae scream and shout at MacLeod, sitting there looking dejected across fae him, twisting his deer stalker hat between they fingers ae his, oot ae sight.
“Explain,” he finally said, fighting tae keep calm.
“We’d chust started transferring the boxes on the pulley when Lachlan MacKenzie arrived…”
“What time was this?”
“Chust after one in the morning, sir.”
“Carry on.”
“I actually thought he was there to give us a hand, until he spoke…”
“Spoke?”
“Informed me…us, that we were all under arrest for illegally landing the catch.”
Silence.
“Carry on.”
“Well, I tried to reason with him, but he was having none of it. He’d blocked the track with his police vehicle. We were blocked in.”
“Why did you not just move it yourself?”
“He…er, refused to hand over the ignition key, sir.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, man! Why could you and the others not just have pushed it clear?”
“We, er, attempted to get the key from him, but he was too fast…on his legs. Chust as we gave chase, Gibby Munro…the customs and excise officer, arrived around the headland and cut Angus off…rammed The Pride Of Assynt’s starboard side…there was a fair amount of damage caused,” MacLeod said miserably, sounding apologetic.
“And this…have you seen the headline?” The Laird scowled, sliding The Northern Times across the desk tae the factor.
Silence.
“The whole of the Highlands knows about this. Luckily, it’s not in any of the Glasgow newspapers. How the hell did The Northern Times manage to print this, eh? They must’ve known what was going to happen and who would be involved. I’ve just spent the last hour being interrogated by an Inspector McTavish…”
“The Highland Fox…”
“Eh?”
“Swein McTavish of Bonar Bridge. They call him The Highland Fox about these parts.”
“The one that was down in Glasgow, undercover, the past few years?”
“Er, I think so. It’s said that he always solves the cases he’s investigating, sir. Seemingly, he caught a lot of real bad men when he was down in Glesgie.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, man! That’s all I need. Me, The Laird of Lochinver? Being interviewed by him? Thank Christ he doesn’t know I work for Strathclyde’s Police Force. Of course, I expressed my shock and horror at what he informed me of…that seven of my employees were charged with landing black fish.”
“Yes, I, er, I’m sorry about that, sir.”
“What the hell is going on, Heckie? I thought Lachlan MacKenzie was a friend…one of us?”
“His aunt is the friend, sir. Lachlan’s chust a stupid boy that should have known better. He’ll never be able to hold his head up in these parts now.”
“That stupid boy had the power of arrest and used it. This could be dangerous fur me…us, Heckie.”
“I spoke with Ishbel earlier. She feels so ashamed and says that she’ll talk to him.”
“Talk to him? What good is that now? The damage has been done. Who knew about last night’s drop off?”
“Chust us, sir, and…”
“And?”
“And, well, maybe the maid and her boyfriend…they live in Little Vestey’s Croft. They could have alerted Lachlan.”
“And Flintlock McBean?”
“That’s possible too, sir.”
“You’re damn well lucky you all got bail, Heckie. If it was anyone else, you would all have been remanded on an indictment. Chris Stewart is the best defence lawyer in Inverness. He dropped everything for me. It’ll cost me a pretty penny and I’m not talking financial either. We’ve got three months to have these charges thrown out. How open is this Inspector Fox one about an approach?”
“An, er…approach, sir?”
“Is he open to a bribe?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, sir. He’s still got that legendry reputation to uphold, plus, after Glasgow, he’s a bit of a hero in these parts.”
Silence.
“What about the sheriff or procurator fiscal across in Dornoch then?”
“I’m not sure sir…maybe.”
“Right, I want you to put the feelers out. I’m prepared to pay two hundred per head to have these charges quietly dropped.”
“I’ll see what I can do, sir.”
“In the meantime, find out who put that young nincompoop on to you…I want someone’s head for this. They’ve impounded The Pride Of Assynt, so they have. It means I can’t get the repairs done. I’ll be losing money hand over fist. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. Something’s not quite right.”
“And the maid’s man?”
“I can only stay up here until the end of the week. I need to be back down the road to Glasgow by Sunday at the latest. I’ll deal with the author and McBean once and for all, when I come back to Lochinver the following weekend,” he said, leaning forward and picking up The Northern Times.
Chapter Sixty Four
Donna The Prima Donna quickly glanced doon at her wristwatch, before clasping her hauns thegither, while surreptitiously hivving a wee peek at the faces roond the table fae under they long false eyelashes ae hers. The only dodgy looking wan oot ae them aw wis Arty Bruce. There must be some irony in there, she thought tae hersel, trying hard no tae gie away whit she wis thinking. Dodgy or no, Arty Bruce, like the rest ae them, could read a face fae twenty paces away. Normally, no possessing that particular talent probably widnae hiv much significance in people’s lives, bit in a place like the toon, in the business she wis in? It could mean the difference between life or death, success or failure. Christ, the graveyards, crematoriums and the jails wur full ae people that couldnae keep a poker face in place. She wondered whit an ootsider, looking in, wid think ae her bringing thegither the allsorts sitting roond the table. They wur certainly a motley looking bunch and no yer typical business types that usually gathered in her boardroom ducking, diving and sweating, desperately trying no tae be take
n tae the cleaners by a wummin ae aw people. That Fraser ae hers hid thrown her aff balance earlier, by bringing a cup ae tea through tae the bedroom before she’d lit up her first fag ae the day. It hid taken her aw her strength no tae droon the basturt wae the contents ae the cup.
“Whit?” he’d demanded, clearly reading her mind, before turning away in disgust. “Ah shouldnae hiv fucking bothered,” he’d cursed, slamming the bedroom door behind him, the angry retard.
He might be retired, bit that didnae mean tae say that he’d lost his touch. It wis obvious that he knew fine well that she wis up tae something.
“Why dae Ah get the feeling that ye’re up tae something, eh?” he’d scowled at her the night before, fishing, before they’d parted ways tae their separate bedrooms.
“Me? Ah’m always up tae something,” she’d replied dismissively. “Somewan like you should know that by noo.”
At least she hidnae been lying. Of course, she wis always up tae something…that’s whit being in business wis aw aboot…staying wan step aheid ae the pack. There wis nae flies oan him though. No matter whit it wis, the bugger hid the uncanny knack ae sensing when something wis gaun oan that concerned him. In the early days, wance she goat intae a rhythm wae her heid doon, she thought the basturt hid a spy in her midst. That’s whit she meant by reading somewan fae twenty paces. It wis beyond anything visual. It wis intuition, commonly known in the toon as the survival ae the fittest. She knew she should’ve walked long ago. When asked why she hidnae, she’d always smiled and reminded people that she’d committed hersel fur better or worse. It usually worked and nipped the question and the person who’d asked it, in the bud. She always felt angry…and ashamed at the look ae pity oan the face ae whoever wis asking…usually some thick, middle class wealthy bitch fae the businesswummin’s association, the type that wis up her ain arse maist ae the time and who hidnae experienced the joys ae darkening the doors ae some seedy pawnshoap, desperately looking fur crumbs tae feed the weans and that man ae hers. None ae the lassies she grew up wae wid ever come oot wae something as stupid and naive as that. They knew better, hivving hid tae survive in the same leaking boat, efter making the same mistake ae taking up wae some shitehoose ae a man like Fraser Jeffs. Probably the only exception tae that rule hid been Helen Taylor. Helen widnae hiv stood fur the kind ae nonsense that she’d hid tae put up wae.
“Take a stick tae the basturt’s bare back,” she used tae say tae them.
She missed Helen…they aw did. Whit a waste. She looked at her watch again. The first tae arrive hid been Cleftie Hannan. She’d instructed him tae turn up fifteen minutes early tae hing up her diagram ae the main players and his snaps fae up north, underneath the blown-up photo ae Robert Hamilton, the Deputy Finance Director fur Strathclyde Polis’s Finance Section. When he’d finished his wee task, there hidnae been much chat between them. He’d jist sat there, lost in his ain thoughts while she’d collected hers, which hid suited her jist fine. Next tae arrive, bang oan time, hid been Arty himsel. Typical bizzy, she’d thought tae hersel…always oan time, apart fae when it mattered. He’d started aff looking reasonably confident and composed, until he’d sat there watching the others arrive wan efter the other. That body language ae his spoke volumes. It hid been so embarrassing, especially since it hid been her people that he wis aiming his negativity towards. If there wis wan thing that goat oan her tits, it wis when wan ae her company showed oot at somewan she’d invited tae participate in a wee sesh or gathering. There wis nae excuse fur bad manners. It reflected back oan her. She’d initially wanted tae pull him up fur his cheek oan the first outing, bit decided tae leave it fur the time being, knowing that it wid be better tae wait until she hid a full complement sitting doon in front ae her. The rebuke wid hiv mair ae an effect wae a bigger audience, plus it wid mean she could get it oot ae the way, rather than hiv tae nip him every time somewan new he didnae approve ae arrived oan the scene. The next wan through the door hid been Harry ‘The Bouffant’ Bertram.
“Sowwy Ah’m late, Donna, hen,” The Queen ae The New Year hid lisped, ignoring the disgusted disapproving look ae the chief inspector, who’d sat there eyeing up Harry as if he wis fae another planet.
She’d wanted tae lean across and slap the insolent bizzy basturt across the kisser fur the insult. Harry Bertram wis aulder than her and hid been a few classes in front ae the lassies aw through primary and secondary school, starting back in the late twenties. Even as a wean, he’d stood oot like a sore thumb, in amongst the other boys playing doon oan McAslin Street. Despite hivving immaculate manners and a face and voice like an angel, aw they hoity-toity Christian teachers always went fur him. They jist couldnae help themsels. They’d felt threatened by him because ae whit he obviously wis, even at that young age. Of course, at the end ae the day, that hidnae really mattered. Whit hid mattered wis that he lived next door tae The Big Man, Pat Molloy. Harry and Pat hid been born up the closemooth ae number seventy Parson Street, within seconds ae each other, oan either side ae the bedroom wall that separated the two flats, oan the very landing that Charles Rennie Mackintosh wis born oan. The two ae them hid played thegither in the puddles roond the backs, before starting primary school oan the same day. Fortunately fur Harry, the local weans in the Toonheid wurnae born wae prejudices. It wis the people…adults, teachers and priests…that moulded the weans intae whit they’d eventually become. The fact that somewan like Pat Molloy didnae listen tae anywan, irrespective ae who they wur, even as a wee snapper, meant he formed his ain opinions ae people. Noo, there wis a man who looked at life through a black and white lens. There wis never a middle ground wae Pat as he grew up, earning his spurs and making his mark oan the street. His philosophy ae life wis actually quite simple. If ye wur in, ye wur in. If ye wur oot, then who the fuck cared. He certainly didnae. She supposed that selfish attitude wis probably pretty normal back in twenties Glesga, particularly if ye wur born intae wealth or wur middle class like the teachers, bit pretty deadly through the eyes ae a psychotic working class psychopath like Pat Molloy. At their school leaving dance, jist before the boys hid aw been let loose oan an unsuspecting society, Harry hid decided tae throw aw caution tae the wind and hid turned up at the dance looking like a cross between Bette Davis and Carmen Miranda. His grand entrance intae the school gym hall hid caused disbelief and outrage in equal measure. The heidmaster at the time…she couldnae remember his name noo…hid clearly felt the need tae protect his innocent, departing flock, before they aw flew fae his nest. The stupid auld fud hid stomped across the dance flair, scattering pupils in his wake and in front ae everywan, hid ordered Bette Davis tae leave. Ye could’ve heard a pin drap in amongst the two hundred odd pupils and smirking, approving, middle class, so-called Christian teachers. Big Pat hidnae wasted any time in decking the prick, before him, Wan-bob Broon and the rest ae whit wid later become the heaviest team in the toon fucked aff oot the door wae a distressed and humiliated Harry in tow and heided up tae ‘The Tap O The Hill’ boozer at the corner ae Taylor Street and Parson Street. The charges ae assault against Big Pat wur drapped efter his da bribed wan ae the local sergeants oan the pretence that they couldnae find a witness who’d seen the punch that hid broken the heidmaster’s nose that night. Seemingly, poor Harry, ignoring his ma’s pleas tae tone it doon a wee bit, hid spent aboot three hours in front ae the wardrobe mirror getting aw glammed up fur the dance. Withoot warning, she involuntarily jumped in her seat, alang wae the others, as the door flew open. It wis hard no tae smile. It wis a breathless Pearl, clutching her wee notebook in wan haun and a fag in the other.
“Tell me, Ah’m no last, am Ah?” she panted, the pleasant hint ae hyacinth and blackcurrant fae Jean Paul Guerlain’s Chamade perfume gaun before her.
“Ah’m no sure, hen. There might be a straggler still tae come,” she’d jist replied, as the door behind her opened again, causing Mr Fraud Squad tae jist aboot shit himsel where he sat.
“Ur you bloody deaf, Pearl? Did ye no hear me shouting oan ye fae hauf way
up the street there? Sorry Ah’m late, Donna. Baby Huey wis slow in picking me up the day,” the smartly dressed Atalian apologised, before looking roond the table, winking at Harry and looking amused as Cleftie Hannan’s face turned an ash grey, before grabbing the chair at the end, facing the door.
At last, she sighed tae hersel. She could get the pleasantries o’er and done wae, before they goat doon tae business. She looked across at the chief inspector who wis still sitting there throwing aff bad vibes.
“Something the matter, Arty?” she asked him pleasantly.
“Er, aye, Donna. Wh…wh…whit’s he daeing here?” he asked nervously, clearly referring tae Tony, ignoring the late newcomer’s smirk.
“Who? Tony? Ach, Ah jist decided tae invite wan ae that young crowd alang tae sit in and maybe learn how it should be done,” she replied pleasantly, smiling doon the table at the young thug. “Like yersel, Arty, we aw hiv tae start somewhere. Why? Ye don’t hiv a problem wae that, dae ye?”
“It mi…mi…might hiv bi…bi…been nice tae be informed, thi…thi…that’s aw,” he scowled, clearly no happy wae the turn ae events.
“Why? As far as Ah’m concerned, there’s naebody any superior than anywan else in this room…particularly somewan like you,” she reminded him, slapping him doon. “Tony’s a reformed boy noo. Ah’ve goat a few wee lucrative, honest business connections wae him. Ah also value his opinion. So, if it’s awright wae somewan as important as you, Arty, we’ll maybe jist get started, eh?” she said. “Right then, everywan knows different bits ae whit’s been gaun oan this past wee while in relation tae Robert Hamilton, Deputy Finance Director fur Strathclyde Polis. So, Ah’ll jist gie everywan a wee rundoon oan how we eventually goat tae where we ur, before we share the latest updates. As ye know, it aw started when Ah received a phone call fae young Johnboy Taylor oot ae the blue a few weeks ago…”
“And ye’ve hid nae connection wae this Hamilton wan before then, Donna?” Tony asked, the first tae speak efter she’d finished.