by Todd, Ian
“And this witness to the killing of the McManus boy?”
“Harper Harris? Oh, he’s a good wan, so he is. Saw everything and his gied a signed statement. It won’t matter if The Simpsons manage tae get their hauns oan him. That signed statement will be enough tae send Toby Simpson, Frisky Frank McKenna and that Jo Jo Robson doon fur life, so it will.”
“Daddy, I’ve picked up that one of the sergeants, this Paddy McPhee one you mentioned, hasn’t been too happy on how Springburn and Possil have been handling things concerning what’s been going on up there. Is there anything we need to be worried about?”
“Ach, that’s jist Paddy. Aye, he hisnae been too happy fur the past few weeks noo, o’er oor response tae the killing ae the McManus boy. They go back a long way, that pair. Paddy’s slung the boy’s arse intae the clink mair times than anywan. It’s aw sorted oot noo though. Paddy and the other big Irish lump he works wae, Finbar O’Callaghan, wur the wans that lifted Frisky Frank up at Stobhill this morning, so they wur. Paddy’s keen, bit he sees things that nowan else sees. He thinks everywan is shite apart fae him and Bumper...that’s O’Callaghan, by the way.”
“Oh well, as I’ve said, keep me posted and make sure you liaise with the murder squad boys. I want them to get every support at our disposal.”
“Right ye are, sir.”
1.00 P.M.
“Good afternoon. I’m John Turney and this is the lunchtime news, live from Glasgow. It’s been reported that one of Glasgow’s most notorious gangsters was shot and killed earlier this morning in the city’s Possilpark district of Glasgow. Although police have refused to identify the man involved, who is said to be in his mid-forties, it is believed to be Thomas Simpson, of the notorious Simpson Brothers gang, that has been terrorising communities in the northern part of the city for over twenty years. It has also been reported that a women, who was also shot in the same incident, is a female senior social worker, who works in Possilpark and is the wife of an assistant governor in Polmont Borstal, near Falkirk.
In a sensational new twist to this story, we can exclusively reveal, through sources at The Glasgow Echo, that the female victim involved in the shooting, Mrs Alison Crawford, also in her forties, had been having an affair with Mr Simpson for some time and has been observed entering and leaving a red sandstone block of flats at 36 Hillend Road, High Possil, every Friday morning with Mr Simpson for some months. Both arrived and left in separate cars. The Glasgow Echo has also confirmed that one of their top journalists, Mr Samuel Elliot, has been investigating the affair for some time now and was about to expose the liaison. Mrs Crawford’s husband, George Crawford, refused to comment when contacted at Polmont Borstal just before we came on air, but did confirm that he did not know Mr Simpson and that he was not a friend or associate of the Crawford family. At a press conference in Edinburgh, to announce the appointment of Mr Bob Grump, presently Assistant Governor of Craiginches prison in Aberdeen, as the new prison supremo of Barlinnie prison in Glasgow, Mr Jack Brown, manager of Scotland’s prison service, refused to be drawn on the matter, other than to confirm that Mr Crawford has worked with the service for twenty years and to say that his thoughts go out to Mr Crawford and his wife at this difficult time.
Lord Frank Owen, proprietor of The Glasgow Echo and well-known campaigner against corruption in public life has asked for a full and open public enquiry. Lord Frank stated that there are key questions to be asked as to why a senior social worker and wife of a senior prison official has been allowed to conduct an affair with such a notorious gangster for so long, without it being brought to the attention of the authorities. Lord Frank confirmed that The Glasgow Echo will be disclosing the whole investigative story in tomorrow’s Glasgow Echo. It is believed that Mrs Crawford is under armed police guard in the city’s Royal Infirmary. A hospital spokesman at The Royal confirmed that a female in her forties had been admitted with gunshot wounds to her neck today, after being transferred from the city’s Western Infirmary, but refused to give any more details as to the extent of her injuries.
In a separate development, police have arrested two men in connection with the murder of eighteen-year-old Joseph McManus, who was stabbed to death in Gourlay Street, Springburn, on the evening of Thursday, the seventeenth of December. An arrest warrant has been issued for a third man, Toby Simpson, the brother of Thomas Simpson, who we believe was murdered this morning. Police have warned the public not to approach Mr Simpson, who they say is extremely dangerous.
In a further twist, an abandoned lorry load of live chickens, belonging to Mr James McKay, haulier and scrap merchant from Milton, caused massive disruption during the morning’s rush hour on Great Western Road in Anniesland earlier this morning. The live chickens, which had been let loose from their cages, are still causing havoc on Great Western Road and police have asked motorists to avoid the area. Mrs Jemima McKay, when contacted, stated that she had not seen her husband since the early hours of this morning and that she was concerned for the safety of the forty-seven-year-old devoted father and grandfather. It is believed that Mr McKay is a well-known associate of Thomas and Toby Simpson. Glasgow Police have refused to be drawn on the matter and have stated that any connection between the disappearance of Mr McKay and the death of Mr Simpson this morning is purely speculation at this juncture.”
2.10. P.M.
The Stalker’s heid wis spinning. He couldnae believe whit hid jist happened and wanted tae tell Fin tae shut the fuck up and tae get him back up tae Springburn as fast as he could drive.
“Ah bloody telt ye it wis a stupid idea, Paddy. Ye’ll be lucky tae get oot ae this wae yer stripes intact, never mind yer job. Ah hope ye didnae mention ma name in aw this,” Fin growled, as he crossed intae the High Street fae the Saltmarket.
The Stalker didnae answer. He thought ae whit he’d jist gone and done. Efter himsel and Bumper hid goat a grip ae Frisky Frank and dumped him intae a cell at the station in Springburn, they’d bumped intae The Gruesome Twosome, who wur delivering Jo Jo Robson across fae Possil, fur security reasons, hivving dragged him oot ae his bed. The whole place hid been buzzing wae the shooting ae Tam Simpson. It hid been while they wur waiting fur Bobby Mack and some ae his murder crew tae arrive tae question the prisoners that Shane Priestly hid telt him aboot seeing Tony Gucci and Pat McCabe in a car up in Balmore Road oan Wednesday morning. Shane hid been helping tae cart bits and pieces, like boxes and breakables, fur a pal ae his, who wis moving intae a new hoose in Hillend Road. That flat wis the wan across the landing fae where Tam Simpson hid goat blasted that morning. Shane hid said that he’d awready reported this tae his Inspector, Duggie Dougan and Bobby Mack fae the murder squad, bit they’d dismissed it. Duggie hid said that hauf the gangsters in the city hid been gaun up that road that morning as the funeral ae a wee ned, Freckles Kelly, who’d gone and goat himsel electrocuted oot in Polmont, hid been taking place at The Glesga Crematorium. Shane hid also said that he could’ve sworn that he’d seen the car, driven by Pat McCabe and wae Tony Gucci in the passenger seat, turn left oot ae Hillend Road and heid up Balmore Road in the direction ae the crematorium.
“So, whit did Duggie say when ye said that then?”
“He said that whether Ah did or didnae see them, if there wis two ae them and jist me, it wid be ma word against them.”
“So, whit dae ye think yersel, Shane?”
“Look, even if Ah saw the basturts pulling the trigger masel, it widnae matter a toss. Everywan is putting this oan either The Big Man’s crew or Blaster McKay, so they ur. Ah’m telling ye, there’s nae speaking tae them, so there isnae.”
The Stalker hid been fuming. Everywan hid done great and played their part in getting the two fur the McManus stabbing, bit he didnae believe fur wan minute that Pat Molloy’s guys wur directly involved in Tam Simpson’s demise. It wis jist too clean and methodical fae whit he’d picked up fae The Gruesome Twosome. Even if it hidnae been done by any ae The Big Man’s crew themsels and they’d brought in a professional, it wid�
��ve been a straight forward shooting. Fae whit Shane hid telt him, this hid been like something oot ae a James Bond movie, so it hid. Efter mulling it o’er, The Gruesome Twosome and Fin hid tried tae haud him back, bit he’d shaken them aff and hid jumped intae a squad car.
“Ur ye coming, Fin?” he’d shouted.
“Look, Ah’ll drive, bit Ah’m staying in the car,” Bumper hid said.
He’d been in luck. When he’d goat doon tae St Andrew’s Square, The Assistant Chief Constable, Jack Tipple, hid been walking towards his car.
“Er, excuse me, Mr Tipple, sir…wid it be possible tae hiv a wee word in yer ear?”
“What? Er, I’m just going for my lunch. Make an appointment through the proper channels…that’s what structures and hierarchy are for,” he’d replied coldly, opening the back door ae the car.
“It’s aboot aw this carry-oan up in Possil this morning, sir,” The Stalker hid said, efter taking a deep breath as The Assistant Chief Constable stoapped and turned tae look at him.
“Hold fire a minute, Smith,” The Assistant hid said tae his driver.
“It’ll only take a couple ae minutes ae yer time, sir,” he’d pleaded, looking aboot, expecting Daddy or Billy Liar tae appear oan the scene tae apologise oan his behauf.
“You mean in private?” he’d asked, looking The Stalker up and doon and glancing across at Bumper sitting in the car, who’d turned his face in the other direction, in case he wis recognised.
“Aye, sir.”
“Look, Smith. Why don’t you go and join Sergeant McPhee’s colleague in the car over there,” he’d said tae his driver, surprising The Stalker that he knew who he wis.
“Speak,” The Assistant hid said abruptly, when he’d got intae the back seat and The Stalker hid slipped intae the front passenger seat and turned tae face him.
The Stalker hid related a chequered history ae the feud, as he knew it, between Tony Gucci’s manky mob and The Simpsons, gaun back fifteen tae eighteen months. He’d admitted that a lot ae whit he wis telling The Assistant wis patchy, because trying tae get solid corroboration hid been extremely difficult, which wis highly unusual in itsel, given the amount ae grasses that him and Bumper hid oan the ground. He’d then explained whit himsel and Bumper hid been daeing during the previous two weeks, since the death ae Joe McManus, and the frustration that hid been overpowering him because ae the lack ae support and time gied tae his theories and suppositions.
“We know fur a fact that Gucci’s manky crowd wur asking aboot Tam Simpson’s movements only last week. Surely that says something?”
“On the word of Eddie The Eel? An exposed and disgraced proven paid agent provocateur, used by the police to fit up innocent criminals? As you say yourself, McPhee, a lot of what you are spouting is supposition, without solid evidence. Sergeant Priestly couldn’t say for certain whether Gucci and this McCabe exited from Hillend Road on Wednesday morning for sure. It’s been confirmed that a friend of Gucci’s, who goes all the way back to his childhood, was being cremated that morning. Turning up to a friend’s funeral is not a crime, is it?”
“Two cars wur blagged fae the Sighthill Freight Terminal in the early hours ae this morning, belonging tae a couple ae the nightshift workers. As yet, the cars hivnae been traced and if ma hunch is right, they probably won’t be either. The fact that the cars will probably no be traced shouts oot tae me that the cars wur probably used in the murder. Gucci lives roond the corner fae where the cars wur taken, in Petershill Road. It’s jist too much ae a coincidence.”
“I spoke with Superintendent Jackson earlier. He stated that in the last month, twenty seven cars were abandoned in Springburn after being stolen elsewhere.”
“Bit, given the turn ae events, dae ye no think that it’s mair than jist a coincidence that oan the same morning as Tam Simpson gets assassinated, two cars wur lifted through the night fae aroond the corner fae Tony Gucci’s flat?”
“If Gucci is as smart as you seem to give him credit for, why would he be so stupid as to shite in his own nest? Surely he would have lifted the cars from elsewhere...like one of the town centre car parks, for instance.”
“Ah don’t know, sir, bit as Ah’ve said, why wid somewan like Baby Huey O’Hara turn up in Springburn in the past two weeks aw ae a sudden? And who is Baby Huey’s boss? Wan-bob Broon. Wan-bob Broon is Freckles Kelly’s uncle and wid’ve been at the funeral. That’s the key connection here. If Gucci wis gonnae take oot Tam Simpson, there’s nae way he wid’ve done something like that withoot the go-aheid fae Pat Molloy, who we know is currently in Spain. Wan-bob Broon, who’s jist come back fae Spain, is The Big Man’s main bogeyman in the north ae the city. The Big Man…Wan-bob Broon…Shaun Murphy, wid’ve goat themsels a professional shooter if they wurnae gonnae take oot Tam Simpson themsels. That’s how they operate, like typical gangsters.”
“And Blaster McKay?”
“There’s absolutely nae intelligence tae suggest that there wis any falling-oot wae The Simpsons. Ah know Blaster McKay, sir. Even if he wanted tae, he’d never go up against The Simpsons. They’ve always worked haun in haun, even though they dae their ain thing. If there wis even a whiff ae bother coming oot ae Milton, Ah wid’ve picked up oan it long before noo. Nae question aboot that, sir.”
“So, what is it you want, McPhee?”
“Ah don’t want tae gie ye the impression that Ah’m disloyal and oot tae undermine the command above me, sir. Ah think that it’s fair and proper that Pat Molloy’s team get well investigated, and that goes fur Blaster McKay as well. Whit Ah’m asking ye, is tae keep an open mind, because investigating the Molloys, Simpsons and the McKays ae this world will be difficult, especially tae get solid evidence, given their past history…bit Ah don’t think ye’ll get anywhere oan the Tam Simpson murder if ye leave Tony Gucci and that wee crew ae his oot ae the equation. Ah know he’s young, bit believe you me, he’s yer man, sir. Unless we put the time in tae curbing Gucci and his wee manky mob’s activities jist noo, the northern part ae the city is gonnae hiv another Pat Molloy or Tam Simpson that’ll suck the lifeblood oot ae the community fur generations tae come. If ma instincts ur right, and Ah believe they ur, then whit Gucci dished oot this morning tae Tam Simpson will hiv gied him the strength and cockiness tae go tae the next level. Pat Molloy, Tam Simpson and Blaster Mackay, although dangerous basturts, ur fae another era. The new generation ae gangsters coming through…wans like Tony Gucci…will be even mair lethal and ruthless, so they will. The Molloys and The Simpsons made their ain way tae get tae where they ur. They wrote the rulebook because there wisnae really anywan organised before them. It’s tickets like Gucci that hiv always been wan step above and in front ae yer typical wee Glesga ned and hiv tried tae emulate whit they think a gangster should be. They’ve watched the big boys since they wur weans and hiv always aspired tae be them. Somewan like Tony Gucci should’ve been working fur somewan like Pat Molloy by noo. The fact that he isnae and his still been allowed tae develop unhindered speaks volumes tae anywan who his an ounce ae savvy aboot them and who knows anything aboot the Glesga gangster scene. Ah know this will sound wacky, bit Ah think that prevention his a big part tae play in crime and that if we invest in nipping up-and-coming tickets like Gucci, it’ll be wan ae the best investments the city could make. If we pass this young thug by, we’ll look back in ten or twenty years fae noo and kick oorsels fur sitting back and watching him rise tae the tap ae the game. Gucci his naewhere else tae go. Him and that manky mob ae his hiv set up shoap in that part ae the city since the Toonheid goat torn doon. They widnae be allowed tae move in anywhere else withoot causing a war. If we kin clamp doon oan their activities up in Springburn, then there’s a good chance we kin at least get the community back tae where it belongs.”
The Assistant Chief Constable looked at his watch.
“Your minute was up almost forty minutes ago, Sergeant McPhee. It’s been very interesting listening to you. I can still remember when I was a young sergeant, many moons ago. Hunches were an
d still are important in our work, especially in complex situations like this and one shouldn’t dismiss them...even though they can come across as fanciful. Here’s what I am going to do. For a start, I’m not prepared to undermine the investigation being carried out by competent experienced officers, who are giving their time to what is and will certainly become, a complex and difficult case...even more so with the involvement of this damn prison governor’s wife. I want you to go back to the station in Springburn and await a call from headquarters. Under no circumstances are you to relate this conversation between us outwith this car. I wish to see you in my office in St Andrew’s Square at exactly five o’clock later today. Have you got that?”
“Er, yes, sir.”
“Right, then, perhaps you’ll vacate my car. I may be able to grab myself a sandwich before what is going to be a very difficult press conference at three o’clock.”
“Ur ye sure ye didnae mention ma name, Paddy?” Fin asked fur the umpteenth time, interrupting his thoughts.
“Ah telt him that the reason Ah wanted tae speak tae him wis because ye made me and that Ah wis scared tae refuse because ye’re a well-known basturt, who’s renowned fur running people o’er in polis cars, so Ah did,” he said tae Bumper.
“Aye, Ah widnae put it past ye, either, ya basturt, ye,” Bumper said, drapping a gear as he heided up the High Street, past the traffic lights at Duke Street and George Street.
2.50. P.M.
“Paddy, ye’re wanted oan the phone. It’s Daddy,” Happy Harry, the desk sergeant, said, popping his heid roond the door.
“Ah warned ye that it widnae be good news tackling Tipple, so Ah did, Paddy,” Bumper reminded him again, watching him heid fur the door.
The Stalker hidnae been feeling good. He’d realised he’d fucked up the minute he’d hit reality back in the station. Whit the hell hid goat intae him, he’d kept asking himsel. Who the fuck in the world wis gonnae accept the shit he’d spouted tae The Assistant Chief Constable? Certainly no Jack Tipple, that wis fur sure. Ten minutes efter himsel and Bumper hid arrived back, Chic Taylor, the inspector, hid heided oot ae the front door ae the station intae a car that hid obviously been sent fur him.