Ledmore Junction

by Ian Todd

  “Ah cannae believe this,” The Chief Super cursed, scratching the side ae his heid, his brain whirring at a hunner miles an hour.

  Silence.

  “Ah take it Hamish McGovern, the editor, is behind aw this?”

  “Campbell ti…ti…telt me that she approached me oan his authority,” he lied.

  And that wee porky wis the main cause ae the dissention bubbling away in that arse ae his, he cursed tae himsel. He’d never hid the conversation wae Pearl Campbell aboot any ae the shite that he’d been spieling tae the Heid ae Crime And Intelligence fur the past wee while.

  “Bit, should Ah no be talking tae Pearl Campbell direct?” he’d pleaded unsuccessfully tae Donna The Prima Donna.

  “Never you mind that, Arty, son. Jist you let me dae the talking. Whit Ah need fae you is tae make sure that you tell Bison exactly whit Ah’m telling ye. Nothing less and nothing mair will dae. Hiv ye goat that?”

  Sam Bison stared at the chief inspector sitting across fae him. He wis desperate tae take a hike alang the corridor tae the lavvy and puke up before letting fly wae that arse ae his. It wis time fur him tae go. He’d hid enough. The past year hid broken him. Fur the first time in his life, he wis oan medication due tae work stress. Oan the night ae The Capstan Club bombing, back oan the 16th ae February, that wife ae his hid let oot a scream and jist aboot fainted efter he’d walked through the front door in the early hours ae the morning. Since then, there hid hardly been a month gone by withoot some known heavy getting shot in the heid, tit fur tat. His boss, John Sinclair, the assistant chief constable himsel, hid admitted tae him in the corridor only a few days earlier, that he wis scared tae open the bloody newspapers in the mornings noo. Everywan oan the tap flair hid stoapped watching the news, it wis that depressing. Despite celebrating the five-year sentence handed doon tae her, everywan still blamed Murdina Munro, or Cleopatra, as she wis tagged, fur aw their woes. Crime…organised crime that wis, hid always been a fact ae life in the toon. Everywan knew that. Before she’d arrived oan the scene wae her Ribena-coloured lips and black glossy, shiny shoes, there hid been some element ae control. Everywan hid known fine well who everywan else wis and where the dividing line stoapped and started. As long as there wis nae blood oan the streets, it hid been tolerated…up tae a point. That wee fucking journalist wis jist poison through and through. Normally, a wee drive up behind a dark factory at night wid’ve been enough tae dampen doon any shit fae the journos in the toon. They always knew where their loyalties lay efter a wee talking tae. Of course, they wur always well rewarded fur it. Bit noo? The wee fucking hairy wis untouchable since being set upon by a couple ae thick sergeants, Healy and Carmichael, fae the traffic unit in Hanover Lane, doon beside George Square. The fact that they wur oot oan bail efter being discovered wae a couple ae pounds ae hash in the boot ae their squad car, meant there wis probably nae chance ae getting the basturts fur the assault noo. Fur the record, the investigation wis still open and ongoing oan that wan. They’d been interviewed a few times, bit hid denied assaulting her. Knowing that it wis them and proving it wis two different things. Since February, the wee bitch hid kept coming back wae mair shite tae clobber the force wae. It hid been never ending and whit wis worse wis that the public wur behind her. Only the previous week, she’d hid two weeping ex-poliswummin who’d jacked in their jobs, noo claiming they’d resigned due tae discrimination against them because they wur females. The front page ae The Glesga Echo hid telt everywan that when they’d first turned up in their respective polis stations efter taken the pledge tae protect the citizens ae the mankiest city in the empire, the boys in the stations hid stamped their bare arses wae wan ae they wee ink stamps fae the lost property section that said ‘Polis Property.’ Everywan at the time, including the WPCs themsels, must’ve known that it hid only been a joke, bit in the cauld light ae day, oan the front page ae the worst newspaper in the world, it hid gone doon like a ton ae bricks, causing outrage amongst the female population and politicians in equal measure. Fuck, stuff like that hid gone oan in his day. It wis only the boys hivving a laugh, fur fuck’s sake. Duggie Dougan hid been right. They’d been nothing bit bloody trouble since the management ae them hid been taken away fae the female section and placed under the supervision ae the local inspectors oan the ground throughoot the divisions. Everywan knew fine well that there wid be trouble letting them loose. He glanced across at the plain-clothed chief inspector again. Despite the fraud squad being under him, he hidnae hid much dealings wae Arty Bruce. Fae whit he could gather, he wis diligent and well-respected. Did enough no tae get noticed, before heiding hame at night tae a wife and three teenage snappers. The fact that he’d the sense tae come straight tae him and no his superintendent demonstrated that he could take the initiative when it came tae it. He liked that in the operational ranks. The problem wis that his superintendent wid go ape-shit when he found oot. Whit wis he tae dae, he wondered.

  “Okay, Arty,” he said, taking a deep breath, keeping calm. “Where dae ye suggest we go fae here then?”

  “Ah su…su…suggested that she meet wae ma superintendent, Charlie Rennie, bit she widnae hiv any ae that, sir. Ah must admit, Ah swithered long and hard as tae whether Ah’d done the right thing by passing him by and coming straight tae you. He’s a good boss, bit he’ll be bloody raging wae me fur that, so he will.”

  “Aye, well, Arty, son, don’t you be worrying aboot that. Charlie disnae know it, bit he’s getting moved oan, so he is. Also, when asked who should fill his shoes, your name came up, so it did,” he claimed, lying through they false teeth ae his.

  “Oh bit, that means…”

  “Aye, congratulations, son, you’re in line tae be promoted up tae superintendent. The paperwork will probably take a week or two, bit it’s awready in the system as we speak. In the meantime, you report tae me directly…oan a daily basis. Hiv Ah made masel clear?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And remember, we agree nothing wae this wee hairy thing. Whitever she comes up wae next, you speak tae me first.”

  “And Hamilton?”

  “As ye said yersel, he’s pissed aff up tae the Highlands, efter claiming his wee maw’s no well. That’ll gie us time tae find oot whit the rules ae the game ur that Hamish ‘Fuck-Pig’ McGovern’s playing at roond in Hope Street. In the meantime, you start adding tae that evidence file, until that wee carrot-heided bitch hauns o’er whit she’s goat. Ah’ll let whit’s her name…Sergeant Marybell Raminsky’s replacement…doonstairs in The Cove, know that ye’ve tae hiv unfettered access tae aw the financial accounts and other related files that ye believe ur pertinent tae this investigation. Ah’ll also speak tae that boss ae yers, Charlie, later oan the day, tae let him know that ye’re working oan a sensitive ‘need tae know’ case.”

  “Er, oh, er…right, sir. Thank ye, sir.”

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  “Mr Hopkins. No!” he hissed, as the cat stoapped in his tracks and shot him a filthy look before jumping back up oan tae the erm ae Senga’s chair, slinking back doon oan tae his haunches, his tail swishing furiously, back tae focussing intently towards the open door.

  He held his breath and waited…wondering if the visitor hid scooted back ootside. He looked across at the cat and swithered whether tae take the opportunity tae snatch him up, bit where tae put him? If he slung his arse oot the side door ae the utility room behind the kitchen, he wid only nip roond the side ae the building tae the front door. Left locked in the kitchen, he’d only wail the place doon, spooking the visitor. And anyway, he’d need tae get up aff the chair tae evict him. He wis scared tae move. He wis relieved tae see that the cat’s tail hid settled doon a fair bit.

  “Wee diddy,” he muttered tae himsel.

  Jist when he wis aboot tae call it a day, the cat’s tail motored up again. He turned and stared intently at the door opening. He detected movement a millisecond before a wee hesitant shadow appeared oan the lobby flair, quickly followed by the shiny beak and hauf a heid peering hesitantly r
oond the doorjamb. He sat as still as a church moose, haudin his breath, as the heid wis withdrawn as quickly as it hid appeared. He scanned the open door frame and wis relieved tae see that the shadow oan the flair wis still there. He quickly glanced across at Mr Hopkins. The bugger wis practically glued tae the erm ae the chair noo, his whole body frozen, apart fae the swishing ae the tail, as they narrowed eyes ae his zoomed in oan the doorway. Aw ae a sudden, the crow hopped forward intae the middle ae the door opening. The only way tae describe whit they wur looking at, wis majestic. Admittedly, he hidnae really taken much notice ae crows before, so wisnae a hunner percent sure how this wan stood up against others, bit he didnae think the wans he’d come across oan the roofs ae the jails wur ever as big as this thing. It wis tall…maybe eighteen tae twenty inches, at least. Whit wis it that Flintlock hid said. Four hauns high? This wis definitely four hauns high, he reckoned. The slightly curved beak wis gunmetal black, protruding fae a greyish crusty ring roond the base ae it, underneath pearly white eyes that held captive two dancing broon piercing pupils in the centre ae them. It wis the flow ae the wet-look, bluish-black layered feathers, fae its neck doon tae the tips ae the wings that caught his breath. It jist stood there bold and erect, feet splayed apart, looking like that famous King Henry the eighth painting, the wan wae him staunin there, decked oot in ermine fur, wae the multi-jewelled hat oan his heid. When they wur young, Skull always referred tae doos that stood oot fae the flock, as being majestic. This thing fitted that description doon tae a T. Wis that another connection, he wondered? He wis sorely tempted tae call oot Skull’s name, bit wis too embarrassed, even though it wis jist him and the cat in the room. Surely, if somewan like Skull wis tae come back as a bird, it wid’ve been as a big Horseman Thief Pouter doo and no a big overgrown black shiny crow. Bit, then again, where wid ye find a Horseman Thief Pouter up in a place like Lochinver, he wondered. The cat suddenly moved, distracting him, by lifting its chin up aff the erm ae the chair, clearly still focussed oan whit wis staunin in the doorway, looking as if it didnae gie a fuck. He couldnae be certain, bit he thought that the cat looked as surprised as he felt, as they baith stared at the brazen audacity oan display in front ae them. Maybe, like him, the cat hid been caught aff guard by the size ae whit wis staunin there. Mind you, it hidnae stoapped him hivving a go at the big eagle a few months earlier roond at the midgie bin. The visitor interrupted they thoughts ae his, as its whole body shivered, the sound ae ruffling feathers causing him and Mr Hopkins tae glance across at each other wance again, before checking tae see whit wis aboot tae happen next. The crow’s heid suddenly tipped o’er at a forty-degree angle, staring intently across at Mr Hopkins fur a few seconds, before turning and fixing its beady eyes oan him. Whit the hell wis he supposed tae dae next? Could a wee, ten-year-auld manky-arsed toe-rag named Samuel Kelly, who’d died in a burning dookit at the tap ae Parly Road in the Toonheid back in 1965, suddenly reincarnate himsel as a crow, up in the Highlands, eleven years later in 1976…or wis it possible that whit wis brazenly staunin there eyeballing them, wis in fact, ten-year-auld Samuel…Sam Majestik MacLeod, who’d been burnt tae death in Vestey’s Croft back in 1821 by a group ae English sojers? Surely no. It widnae hiv been the first time that Skull hid put in an appearance o’er the years. Hivving said that, it hid always seemed tae be when he wis oot ae the game and wisnae in a position tae actually swear oan a bible that whit he’d witnessed wisnae a figment ae his imagination. The first time hid been doon in the dungeons ae Central, the morning he’d been sentenced tae three years in Thistle Park Approved School by JP Donnelly. The next sighting hid been the Christmas play, efter he spotted Mr Magoo himsel, sitting in amongst the Roystonhill boys. He hidnae been oot ae the game then, he remembered, though The Mankys wur in the middle ae planning a mass break-oot fae the place. He couldnae remember if he’d been stressed at the time. The next time hid been efter he’d been nabbed by The Stalker roond the back ae their new flat in John Street, when they’d been oan the run. It hid been when he’d been returned tae Thistle Park Approved School and slung intae the digger…the night Skull hid telt him he wis being let in. Let in? He’d always wondered if he wis being let in tae his ma and da’s hoose in Barony Street or tae somewhere else, like Heaven. Efter that, it hid been a few years he’d hid tae wait. He’d thought he’d heard Skull calling oot his name as he lay injured oan the flair ae Fanny Flaw’s office doon in Dumfries efter strangling Robert The Beast, the basturt who’d murdered the wee school lassie oot in Stirling, back in November 1972. Later that same day, he’d hid a face-tae-face wae Skull when he’d been in the ambulance, being transferred up tae The Royal, back in the toon. He’d definitely been oot ae the game that time. Senga hid telt him that he’d seemingly died twice oan route. He could distinctly remember speaking tae Mr Magoo in some sort ae a big massive white room, bit hivving been unconscious at the time, he’d put it doon as jist another confused dream. Of course, then there hid been the lassies. According tae Senga, Skull hid turned up at their séance wae Madam Elektra, efter they’d decided tae try and contact the wee nurse that Wan-bob hid goat bumped ootside Stobhill Hospital. Despite scoffing when Senga hid telt him that Skull hid turned up, he hidnae mentioned the last meeting he’d hid wae him…the meeting where Skull hid telt him where he wis tae heid tae, wance he wis free…and that somewan needed his help. He knew it wis crazy tae even go there, bit whit if the crow actually wis a reincarnated Skull or Skull wis behind the wee boy Macleod getting back hame tae the croft…tae be let in? Why the hell wis Mr Hopkins no attacking it…him? It didnae make sense. He glanced across at the cat. He wis sitting upright noo. His tail wisnae swishing, even though he wis still focussed oan the bird, staring at it intently. He wondered whit he wis supposed tae dae next. He wis scared tae move, in case it encouraged the cat tae spring aff the erm ae the chair and attack the bird. He noticed a wee bit ae breid lying oan the flair, aboot two feet in front ae the crow. It wis too far fur him tae stretch across and pick it up, plus he didnae want tae spook the thing by getting up oot ae his chair, bit he hid tae dae something. Withoot looking, he slowly took his right haun oot ae his left wan and raised it up. The crow’s eyes followed it. He twiddled the bit ae crust between his thumb and forefinger, before gently flicking it o’er towards the door, startling it, as it hopped backwards aboot twelve inches. Efter a couple ae minutes ae being stared at inquisitively, the bird suddenly waddled across tae the crust, its shoulders imitating the walk ae some wee gallus Ned fae the toon, before it bent doon and picked up the bit ae breid and swallowed it whole. It then looked aboot, scanning the flair, before it noticed the bit ae breid closest tae his chair. Withoot fear, it waddled o’er and gobbled that bit up. He let another piece ae crust drap aff his haun this time, glad tae see it land between the toes ae his shoes. The crow, totally ignoring Mr Hopkins, looked straight intae his eyes and held his gaze fur a few seconds. He wis scared tae breath, before, wance again, the thing casually sauntered across and gobbled up the breid. The cat hidnae shifted fae his sitting position, bit jist followed the movement wae they cauld eyes ae his. The bird wis directly underneath where he wis sitting noo. He stretched oot his erm ever so slowly and gently touched the tap ae its heid. He hauf expected it tae jump back, bit it jist stood stock still, allowing him tae stroke its crown wae his middle finger. Mr Hopkins suddenly drapped doon oan tae his haunches again, his two front paws crossed o’er each other. He couldnae believe it. He wondered if he wis missing something. This wis the wee bugger that chased efter and killed anything that moved doon oan Vestey’s Bay. Even mair surprisingly, the bloody cat’s eyelids started tae droop, before they shut aw thegither. Granted, the eyes would open every few seconds or so, bit he definitely wisnae gieing aff attack vibes, like he’d been daeing a few minutes earlier. The crow turned and faced the door wae his feathered back tae the chair as Johnboy continued stroking its heid. He wis jist aboot tae speak tae it, when the familiar sound ae car tyres crunching oan the stanes ootside suddenly sailed through the open fron
t door oot in the hall and intae the living room. Mr Hopkins wis awready across at the windae, looking oot, by the time Senga shut o’er the driver’s door ae Betsy, before following the sound ae they feet ae hers intae the hoose.

  “Hiya,” she said smiling, looking aboot, hinging the straps ae her shoulder bag across the back ae the chair beside the table as she took aff her jaicket.

  “Aye, aye,” he replied, gulping, jumping up, wondering where the fuck the crow hid disappeared tae. “B…busy day?”

  “Whit’s up?” she asked, the friendly smile gone, looking fae him tae the cat and back again.

  “Whit?”

  “Naw, Johnboy. That’s ma line,” she said, gieing the room a right good swatch this time. “Youse pair ur up tae nae good.”

  “Us?”

  “Aye,” she replied, brushing past him, looking aboot suspiciously through in the kitchen before reappearing. “The baith ae youse look guilty as sin, so youse dae.”

  “Guilty? Ah’ve jist been sitting oan the book maist ae the day while the cat’s been lying snoring across oan the windae sill, so he his.”

  “Naw, something’s no right. Ah kin sense it,” she said, still scanning the room wae a puzzled expression spread across her brow.

  “Look, it’s boiling ootside. Why don’t ye go and grab a seat oan wan ae the deck chairs and Ah’ll get us a nice cauld drink before Ah start oan the supper, eh? Ye kin sit and tell me how many poor souls died the day because ae yer negligence,” he said lightly, as she turned and looked at him, searching they eyes ae his, before seemingly being satisfied that he wisnae up tae something.