by Ian Todd
“And none ae they budgets hiv turned up in the financial ledger accounts, Arty. Is that whit ye’re telling us?”
“Tha…tha…that’s exactly whit Ah’m saying, Donna,” he agreed, suddenly opening the file and lifting oot the summary statements fur the past five years, flicking through the headings.
Silence.
“It disnae mention anything aboot expenditure fur special operations or task forces relating tae organised crime. Ah cannae remember how many task forces there’s been, bit there’s been at least four that Ah know aboot since 1972,” he said, his stutter suddenly disappearing as if by magic.
“There must be an expenditure ledger somewhere, Arty?”
“If there is, Ah widnae hiv a clue where tae find it. Ah’ve been aw o’er the finance section roond in The Cove oan Pitt Street where Ah wis allowed access oan another case. If they’d been sitting there, Ah wid’ve come across them.”
Silence.
“Why wid the deputy director ae finance fur the polis here in the toon, think he’d get aff wae signing hundreds ae cheques intae his ain bank account, unless he knew he wis untouchable?” Tony wondered oot loud.
“Look, let’s leave that fur the time being and move oan,” Donna said, back tae being composed. “Ah’ve always believed that a solution tae maist problems normally always presents itsel in due course and you might’ve jist come up wae it, Arty, son. Right then, Pearl, ma wee pet lamb, it’s your turn.”
“Okay, assuming this is a runner, Donna asked me tae put thegither a front-page splash tae go oot next Monday morning. Efter whit Ah’ve jist heard, it’s probably jist as well she asked me tae keep it tae masel meantime, given that we really don’t know if this guy his actually blagged the money or no,” she sang, looking across at Mr Fraud, as Harry beside her chuckled.
“Why don’t ye jist say it as it is, Pearl?” Tony asked her, getting mair smiles oot ae the company, apart fae the bizzy who looked tae be in the huff.
“Oh, Ah didnae mean tae…”
“Never you mind that Tony wan, Pearl, hen. There’s nae offence taken. Carry oan, pet,” Donna said encouragingly, screwing another fag intae her fag holder and lighting up.
“Right then, where wis Ah? Oh, aye. According tae Donna here, Ah’ve been working closely wae Chief Inspector Bruce fur quite a wee while noo…oh, and nice tae meet ye, by the way,” she said, nodding. “And this is whit we’ve baith come up wae…”
“We’ve?” The chief inspector asked, clearly puzzled.
“Oh, aye. Me and you…whit a team, eh?” Pearl cracked, as everywan in the room, including Mr Fraud Squad himsel, laughed this time, breaking the tension fae earlier. “Wance Ah get the go-aheid fae Hamish McGovern, the paper’s editor, Chief Inspector Bruce here will arrange an interview this coming Friday between the paper and John Sinclair, The Assistant Chief Constable and Sam Bison, the Heid ae Crime and Intelligence. As everywan probably knows, Chief Superintendent Bison is ultimately Chief Inspector Bruce’s boss and responsible fur the Fraud Squad, so he is,” Pearl reminded the others, as the chief inspector took another glug fae the brandy bottle.
“Hopefully, it’ll be Superintendent before too long, Pearl, hen. Efter Arty here gets promoted, due tae aw that sterling joint work the baith ae youse hiv been daeing thegither,” Donna interrupted.
“Oh, right…er, congratulations in advance,” Pearl beamed, as everywan laughed, before continuing in that breathy tone ae voice ae hers. “So, Ah’ve nearly completed ma exclusive…the story that the paper will run wae. Ah’m still working oan the questions that they’ll be asked at the interview, which’ll be the main focus ae the piece.”
“Will we get a copy ae the questions in advance?” Mr Fraud Squad asked, as everywan turned back tae look at Pearl.
“Er, Ah’m no sure. Hamish McGovern wid need tae okay that. Ah think it wid be safe tae assume that the key question will be, how the hell did somewan like this Robert Hamilton manage tae get away wae robbing the polis blind fur aw these years withoot anywan sussing oot whit wis gaun oan. Also, as well as the interview oan Friday, me and Slipper, the papers tap crime photographer, will be present when Hamilton’s arrested.”
“It won’t be easy keeping something as big as this under wraps in a place like the toon,” Mr Fraud Squad reminded everywan. “The place is crawling wae eyes and ears, so it is. Especially if Bison and The Assistant Chief Constable, Sinclair, ur clocked oot and aboot in a car in the toon thegither.”
“Ach, well, that shouldnae be a problem. Youse kin jist arrest him this weekend at hame…up there in the Highlands, so ye kin.” Tony suggested.
“He travels back doon the road oan a Sunday, remember?” Cleftie said tae Donna, as everywan looked across at her.
“If he’s nabbed up in Lochinver oan the Sunday, will it still gie ye time tae get back doon the road wae the pictures ae the arrest fur the front page the next day, Pearl?”
“Oh, aye. If we nab him first thing in the morning, then Ah should be back doon the road in plenty ae time. Ah kin always get the train that he wis supposed tae be catching, if need be,” she replied, extracting mair merriment fae aroond the table.
“Will we know where tae find him?” The Chief Inspector asked.
“Johnboy’s goat good local contacts. Wan ae the boys that taxied me aboot could take youse oot tae the big hoose,” Cleftie replied. “He wis involved in setting up Hamilton’s boys fur landing that cargo ae black fish a few days ago. There wis a young bizzy involved, alang wae wan ae the local customs and excise people. He could meet up wae youse, Arty. Fae whit Ah could gather, Ah don’t think Johnboy wid want tae be too close tae this. Also, the lassie he lives wae? The way he wis talking, Ah don’t think she’d be too pleased either,” he said, as Tony and Pearl smiled, knowingly.
“Aye, Heckie MacLeod, Hamilton’s factor. He’s the wan that wis doon here trying tae convince me tae haun o’er Johnboy and Senga’s wee love nest. That’s him there,” Donna said, pointing tae the photo taken up at Achins Bookshoap.
“Who’s the other guy?” Tony asked.
“That’s Angus MacKenzie, the skipper ae the boat that wis impounded alang wae the fish. A right ugly basturt,” Cleftie answered.
“Donna’s insisting that, irrespective ae who’s there, it’s you she wants tae be the arresting officer,” Pearl said tae the chief inspector, before looking across at Donna fur confirmation. “It wid be good tae get a few shots ae ye before we heid up the road fur the inside pages ae the paper, as well as at the point ae arrest.”
“Ah kin tell ye right noo, Sam Bison will want that honour. He’s coming up fur retirement. Something like this will be the highlight ae whit’s been a shitty career, so it will. Somewan like him won’t want anywan fae ootside the force tae be involved either.”
“Aye, well, whit Bison wants and whit he gets ur two different things, so they ur, Arty,” Donna reminded him. “Carry oan, Pearl, hen.”
“Basically, that’s it. Ah’ll let Chief Inspector Bruce here know whit’s happening wance Ah manage tae convince Hamish tae go fur it and he kin set the baw rolling at his end. Of course, that’ll aw depend…”
“Oan whether we kin track doon the money trail?” Donna asked, interjecting.
“Aye, something like that,” Pearl agreed, smiling.
“Okay, Ah think we’ve done enough fur the wan day. Ah don’t know if we need tae meet thegither as a group before the start ae the weekend, which is only four days away. I’ll be in touch wae youse individually should the need arise. Arty, you hing back a wee minute. Also, Tony, son, kin you wait alang in ma office? Ah…Ah might hiv a wee special favour tae ask ye before ye disappear up the road,” she said tae him, their eyes momentarily fixing oan each other, before he nodded and silently slipped oot ae the room, as Arty Bruce felt a strange sensation run up his spine, no sure whit he’d jist witnessed.
Donna and the chief inspector sat patiently listening tae people saying their cheerios alang at the reception. The last tae vacate the
room wis Cleftie, who wis taking doon his highland pictures.
“So, did ye get me the file Ah asked ye fur, Arty?” she asked him, sounding impatient, as Cleftie silently shut the door oan the way oot.
“Ah goat access, bit Ah couldnae take it oot ae The Cove. Ah’m jist covered fur the financial stuff.”
“And?”
“And Ah spent nearly two hours gaun through it,” he replied, surprised tae see her fingers shaking as he watched her take her time, lighting up a fag.
Silence.
“Ye wur spot oan, so ye wur,” he finally admitted, watching her closely. “As well as being oan the take fae The McGregors since he wis an inspector, Bill Davidson, wis also taking back handers fae The Big Man’s da long before that. Fae whit Ah read, Davidson wis paid regularly and handsomely fur his services o’er the years, before being caught receiving a broon paper bag full ae money fae Papa McGregor himsel. By that stage ae his career, he’d made it up tae superintendent. There wis a thorough investigation tae see if there wis anything dodgy aboot the accident at the lights oan Alison Street that killed him, bit they couldnae find anything concrete.”
“And the bank job oan Alexandra Parade?”
“Chief Inspector Bill Davidson wis the officer in charge ae the investigation, as you awready know. Pat Molloy, Shaun Murphy and your Fraser wur definitely in the bank. Wan-bob Broon sat behind the wheel in the getaway car wae its engine running ootside oan the Parade.”
“So, which wan pulled the trigger that killed Herbert Morrison, the bank teller then?” she asked, haudin her breath.
“Ah…Ah don’t know. It could’ve been anywan ae the three who entered the bank that day. The only wan who certainly didnae pull the trigger wis Wan-bob Broon.”
“Bit it wis definitely them that robbed the place?”
“Oh aye, nae question aboot that.”
“Thank you, Arty,” Donna whispered, taking a paper hanky oot ae her pocket and gieing her eyes a wee dab wae it.
“The only reason the bank job and who murdered the bank teller wisnae solved wis because Superintendent Davidson ended up getting himsel killed in that accident. During his interrogation fur being corrupt, he’d confessed that he smothered the evidence ae who entered the bank that day. The problem wis that he hidnae signed the statement he’d gied the day before. It hidnae been typed up at that stage. He wis oot oan bail fur the poke ae money and wis oan his way intae the toon tae sign the statement when the car accident occurred. Remember, the bank job hid taken place years earlier. The evidence gathered oan who did the job wis relooked at bit the powers that be at the time decided tae leave it be. Withoot Davidson’s signature, the statement wisnae worth the paper that it wis typed oan.”
“Basturts,” Donna murmured, a bit mair composed noo.
“Ah’m sorry, Donna.”
“Look, Arty, Ah’m sorry Ah growled at ye earlier oan…it wis the shock. Ah jist assumed that ye wid’ve been sitting there wae the evidence ae Robert Hamilton’s fraudulent activity. Listen, don’t worry aboot this weekend. Everything will be okay. Aw you hiv tae dae is convince Bison that nabbing Hamilton up in Lochinver is the best place. Tell him that ye’ve picked up a wee rumour circulating aboot Hamilton in the toon in certain quarters and that secrecy is the key tae controlling the situation and keeping it in-hoose. The main thing between noo and then, is that ye hiv tae continue tae track doon where the hell they’ve stashed they other accounts. They must be somewhere…Central maybe?”
“Aye, Ah’ll keep searching, bit Ah cannae promise. Oh, in case Ah furget, the first thing that Bison will want is fur me tae haul in the arse ae yer bank manager, McMillan. He’ll want me tae interrogate him oan everything he knows aboot Hamilton’s deposits. Bison will be bloody raging, so he will.”
“Aye, well that’s understandable, bit finding they accounts his tae be the number wan priority, Arty. Harold McMillan isnae gaun anywhere. The poor basturt’s jist wan ae these people who floats through life in his ain wee world. He’s actually quite harmless. It’s jist a pity somewan like him ended up in the Springburn Business Association alangside Harry. Look, leave aff oan his interrogation until efter this weekend, will ye? It’ll gie me time tae brief him in advance oan how he responds tae you when you come a-calling. Obviously, he widnae hiv a clue, seeing as he wis jist shifted up tae Bishopbriggs a few weeks ago. Believe me, he’s as clean as a whistle.”
“Ach, Ah’m sure a few mair days shouldnae be a problem, Donna.”
Chapter Sixty Five
Pearl looked across the room tae Hamish McGovern’s table. The editor ae The Glesga Echo hid jist started oan his dessert. She’d been sitting there, dying tae go and powder her puff fur a while, bit hid been scared that he’d clock her and end up speaking tae her too soon. That wis the last thing she needed. She hid tae somehow get him oan his lonesome. She’d nipped up tae the tap flair, where the Gods never slept, earlier in the day, and hid managed tae hiv a wee fly squint at his diary, which hid been sitting open oan his PA, Helen Cardle’s desk.
‘Rogano, Exchange Square, Buchanan Street, 7.30 pm.’
She hidnae hung aboot fur Helen tae reappear. She must’ve been in wae Hamish. She’d flown doon the stairs, two at a time, efter taking her heeled shoes aff, before casually sauntering through the door tae her desk, trying no tae faint as she reminded hersel again that she hid tae stoap smoking. Sammy ‘The Rat’ Elliot, that horrible boss ae hers, hid jist come oot ae his glass fronted office and hid been heidin her way.
“Christ, whit the hell’s wrang wae you, Pearl?” he’d asked. “Ye sound as if ye’ve jist went ten roonds wae some big stud or something.”
“It’s er, ma chest, Mr Elliot,” she’d panted, sounding like some wee mongrel oan heat. “Ah think Ah’m hivving an asthma attack, so Ah am.”
“Asthma attack? It’s me that’ll be hivving an asthma attack if you don’t get they chewed fingernails ae yours gaun. Up the stairs ur looking fur something juicy…and exclusive, so they ur,” the wee ratty rodent hid girned, looking aboot at the other journos, sitting there wae their heids doon, kidding oan that they wur writing up the crime ae the century.
“Aye, well, Ah think Ah’m oan tae something,” she’d made the mistake ae confessing.
“Aye?”
“Oh, it’s, er, nothing…”
“It must be something or ye widnae hiv mentioned it.”
“It’s…it’s in its early stages, so it is.”
“Whit is?”
“Something Ah’ve been looking at.”
“Looking at…whit’s that supposed tae mean?”
“It means there might be a bit ae flesh oan the bones, bit it’s early days.”
“So, c’mone then. Spit it oot,” he’d said encouragingly.
“Oh, er, well, as Ah’ve jist said…”
“And?” he interrupted.
“And well, it isnae really a story…at least, no yet.”
“Ur you sure ye’re okay?” he’d enquired, bending forward, looking fur clues in they green eyes ae hers. “Ah hope you hivnae been oan that wacky-baccy stuff. Journalism and drugs don’t mix, so they don’t. Jist ask Janis Joplin.”
“Er, is she no deid?”
“Who?”
“Janis Joplin.”
“See, there ye go. Anyway,” he’d said, suddenly straightening up, they wee ratty hauns ae his gripping his stomach. “They guts ae mine hiv been gieing me jit aw morning, so the hiv, so hurry up.”
“Wae whit?”
“The story, remember?”
“Oh, right,” she’d jist nodded, before the hatchet-faced wee rodent hid scurried aff towards the gents’ lavvy doon beside the lift.
She’d gied him a full minute before picking up the phone and lighting up a fag.
“Hello, Donna? It’s me. Pearl,” she’d said intae the mouthpiece.
“Aye, Ah’m fine and dandy, so Ah am,” she’d lied, feeling faint efter the smoke hit her lungs
“Aye, Hamish.”
&nbs
p; “Rogano’s. It’s up oan Buchanan Street…hauf seven.”
“The night. Aye, Ah knew ye’d know where it wis…Ah wis jist saying, jist in case.”
“No chance. The Rat wid hiv kittens if Ah tried tae claim the tab aff ma expenses fur masel, never mind fur somewan like you.”
“Aye, Ah know, Donna. Exclusive or no, he widnae go fur it…at least no withoot me spilling the beans…and even then,” she’d replied doubtfully, blowing a stream ae smoke towards the flickering, nicotine-stained strip light above her heid, looking aboot the newsroom.
“Aye, Ah hear whit ye’re saying, Donna, bit believe you me, he’s as tight as a duck’s arse, so he is.”
“Ye will? Brilliant.”
“Naw, Ah’ve never been there.”
“Like the inside ae The Titanic? Is that no the wan that sunk wae aw hauns oan board?”
“Aye, Ah could tell by the choking at your end that it must be expensive.”
“Mind and wear ma glad-rags?”
“No probs. Kim Sui gied me a shot ae a lovely Donna Karan dress that’s oot ae this world last week. Ah wore it when Ah wis oot wae the lassies oan Saturday night and nearly caused a stampede wae aw they Neds hinging aboot ootside The Lunar Seven.”
“Aye. Look, Ah’ll phone ye back wance Ah book us a table,” she’d said, hinging up, jist as Alan Thomas, the fashion editor, came scurrying oot ae the men’s lavvy wae his haun covering his nose and mooth, looking pasty-faced before throwing up in the nearest wastepaper basket.
They could only get a table fur eight thirty. Donna hid warned her beforehaun that if Hamish wisnae there, then dinner oan her wis aff. Luckily, him and his young dinner companion hid still been sitting there when they arrived.
“Ladies?” the waiter interrupted, arriving wae their starters.
“At last. Ah’ve hid nothing tae eat the day, apart fae a cup ae tea and a slice ae burnt toast, first thing this morning. Ur ye sure ye don’t want tae try wan ae these, Pearl, hen?” Donna asked her, before noisily slurping doon a big wet greaser ae a thing, in the wan go, straight aff the shell, that wis seemingly impersonating an oyster. “Aaaahhhh! Bloody superb…especially wae a wee drap ae Worcester sauce,” Donna continued, smacking they lipstick-coated lips ae hers, taking a sip ae the Guinness fae wan ae the wee shot glasses that accompanied the dish.