Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

by Todd, Ian

  “Ralph, fur Christ sake, Ah’m putting ma life oan the line here. If word got oot that Ah wis phoning Central, even if it wis jist tae report that wee dug ae mine wis missing, Ah’d end up in a bloody casket, fur Christ’s sake!”

  “Bingo, Bingo, calm doon, son. Ah’ve jist telt ye…there won’t be a problem. Ah’ll deal wae it.”

  “Ah’m telling ye, Ralph…Ah swear tae God, she knew who Ah wis. Ah went tae school wae that big-titted sister ae hers. Christ, Ah think Ah’ve jist accidently shat in ma pants,” Bingo wailed doon the line.

  “Look, ye’ll need tae calm doon, Bingo. It’s aw sorted. Ah’ll speak tae her. Don’t worry, she’s been warned no tae divulge who’s phoning in or oot. Ye’ve nothing tae worry aboot. Noo, whit hiv ye goat fur me?”

  “We’re gonnae hiv tae change how we get in touch wae each other. Ah’m no happy, so Ah’m no,” Bingo continued tae bleat.

  “Aye, Ah heard ye, Bingo. We’ll get something sorted oot. In the meantime, whit hiv ye goat fur me?”

  “The Big Man.”

  “Whit aboot him?”

  “Ah’m no too sure…it might be nothing.”

  “Well, let me decide oan that, eh?”

  “He’s hid a meeting.”

  “A meeting?”

  “Aye…in Frankie Mulligan’s shoap oan the corner ae Murray Street.”

  “The Bookies?”

  “Aye.”

  “And?”

  “As Ah’ve said…it might be nothing, bit…”

  “Spit it oot, Bingo. Who wis he meeting wae?”

  “That wee newspaper guy.”

  “Whit wee newspaper guy?”

  “The wee ugly basturt.”

  “Bingo?”

  “The Rat…whit’s his name?”

  “Sammy Elliot? Pat Molloy hid a meeting wae him? When?”

  “They’re still there, as far as Ah know. Ah’ve jist come fae putting oan a wee line.”

  “Whit’s the meeting aboot?”

  “Ah don’t know…Ah’m no sure.”

  “Ye’re no sure? Whit kind ae reply is that? Ah thought ye knew everything that’s gaun oan up there in the Toonheid. Remember, it’s me ye’re talking tae?”

  “Look, aw Ah know is that it’s goat something tae dae wae that dookit that went up.”

  “Whit dookit?”

  “The wan that burnt doon, up the tap ae Parly Road last night. The big cabin behind the billboards between Gizzi’s Café and Macbrayne’s bus depot.”

  “Bit, Ah thought The Murphys ran that?”

  “They dae…they did.”

  “Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”

  “They haunded it o’er tae a wee manky bunch ae toe-rags who’re aw right intae fleeing the doos.”

  “Right, back tae Pat Molloy and The Rat. Whit dae ye think’s gaun oan then?”

  “Ah’m no sure. Bit, why wid somewan like The Big Man hiv a meeting in the back room ae a betting shoap wae a journalist fae The Glesga Echo, insteid ae in his pub, jist alang the road?”

  “Bingo, it’s me that’s supposed tae be asking the questions here and you that’s supposed tae be coming up wae the answers. Whit makes ye think the meeting’s connected wae the dookit?”

  “Because it wis torched.”

  “Bit, Ah thought ye jist said that The Murphys hid haunded it o’er tae some wee scallywags?”

  “They did.”

  “And?”

  “Wan ae the wee stupid basturts wis in it when it went up. Yer boys hiv been up there since last night. Did ye no know?”

  “Er…aye, of course Ah knew,” The Inspector lied. “Ah still don’t see the connection wae this meeting though.”

  “There’s rumours.”

  “Rumours?”

  “Aye. There’s a whisper that The Big Man might be getting oot ae the doo business.”

  “Never!”

  “As Ah said, it’s only a whisper.”

  “Look, Bingo. Ah need tae find oot whit this meeting wis aboot. Kin ye dae that fur me?”

  “Hmm, Ah’m no sure, Ralph. Ah’d need tae be really careful. The Big Man hid a face like thunder when Ah caught sight ae him. Ah don’t think he clocked that Ah wis in the place though, as he jist swept past aw the punters queuing up tae put their lines oan.”

  “Bingo, there’s a fiver in this…maybe mair…if ye kin find oot.”

  “Ah’ll try, bit Ah cannae promise ye. It’s getting worse up here. They Murphys ur oan the warpath jist noo. Everywan’s keeping their heids doon.”

  “Why?”

  “Ah’m no sure.”

  “Is it connected wae this fire?”

  “Maybe, bit aw The Big Man’s bears hiv been whizzing up and doon Parly Road and McAslin Street in their big flashy cars, like men possessed, since yesterday morning, so they hiv. Something’s happened.”

  “Well, jist see whit ye kin dae. Okay?”

  “Look, Ralph. Ah’ll need tae go. The pips hiv started tae kick in. Ah’ll try and phone ye back in an hour or so if Ah get anything,” Bingo managed, before the line went deid.

  Chapter Five

  The bell hid jist gone aff fur the efternoon break. It hid been the worst day Johnboy hid ever spent in a classroom in his life. Insteid ae everywan fleeing fur the door and the usual wans getting killed in the rush when they aw goat stuck trying tae get through intae the corridor, everywan jist stood up and slowly wandered, confused, heids nipping and angry, looking and feeling like Kharis fae ‘The Mummy’s Tomb’. It felt like everywan’s world hid come crashing doon aboot their ears. Johnboy hid noticed mair than a few tears coming fae the lassies in the class as well. When Dave Stem hid stood up in front ae the class and telt them the news, ye could’ve heard a pin drap. Even the goody-goody wans hid looked stunned. His name wis actually Mr Poke bit everywan jist called him Dave Stem because he wis well-known fur walking aboot wae a hard-on maist ae the time, especially if he’d jist been fur a wee sleekit visit tae the staff cludgie. Johnboy hid never seen it himsel bit, apparently, there wur plenty who hid. Anyway, Johnboy’s class hid aw been enjoying themsels, farting aboot, as usual, before their morning kip started, when Stiff Dick hid strode intae the classroom and stood wae his hauns oan his hips, feet wide apart, no saying a word fur aboot twenty seconds.

  “Right, ya bunch ae wee toe-tags, Ah’m in charge noo.”

  Hauf the lassies in the class hid jist aboot fainted wae fright, including Senga Jackson, Johnboy’s desk partner and the love ae his life, while the other hauf hid jist stared goggle-eyed at that crotch ae his in horror.

  “Here’s how it’s gonnae work,” Stiff Dick hid snarled, haudin up a finger oan his left haun, wae his right wan ready tae swoop doon tae help him wae his coonting. “Wan…there will be nae chatting when Ah’m talking…nae chitchat, backchat, sly chat, whispered chat, blind chat, or any other kind ae chat. Two…youse will aw read, write, coont, divide, sub-divide, multiply, add and subtract when the man in charge…that’s me by the way…gies the command. Three…when Ah tell ye tae open yer jotters, Ah don’t mean The Bunty, The Beano, The Victor, The Dandy, The Beezer or any ae they other wee crap hauf-sized Commando comics that Ah kin see peeping oot ae some ae yer bags. Four…there will be nae slings, whiz-bangs, pea shooters, elastic bands, squibs or stink bombs in ma class,” he’d scowled, voice rising steadily as he coonted through they wanking fingers oan that haun ae his, getting himsel intae a right auld tizzy.

  Unfortunately, Daniel Boone...nae guesses as tae whit his da’s favourite programme wis when he wis born…who wis sitting up the back, tae the left ae Johnboy and Senga, hid jist woken up at the sound ae aw the commotion. Daniel hid let aff whit Johnboy considered tae be a fair-tae-middling-sized fart that wis probably louder than it should’ve been, oan account ae the solid shiny wooden seats everywan sat oan, and him no lifting the cheeks ae his arse up high enough. It hid kind ae hauf-ripped and hauf-rattled across that oak seat ae his before trailing aff intae whit sounded uncannily like the bugler oot ae ‘She Wore A
Yellow Ribbon’, Johnboy’s favourite John Wayne film at the time. Aw the class’s laughter hid stuck in their throats…no because ae the clap ae thunder that hid charged oot ae Daniel’s arse, even though it wid’ve probably moved up tae the middle ae the first division in the farting league…or because it wis bloody rancid, which it wis…bit because Mr Poke hid shot across that flair and up that row ae desks like The Flying Scot fae across the road in Rattray’s Bike Shoap. He’d grabbed Daniel by the scruff ae the neck before he’d fully wakened up and lifted him, squealing like a hauf droont cat fae his seat…making the classroom smell even mair rancid…and hid hauf run wae him back doon the row, across the front ae the class tae the door before slinging him oot intae the corridor oan tae that smelly arse ae his.

  “Don’t ye dare darken the door ae ma classroom ever again, ya dirty, smelly, filthy wee cretin, ye,” Dave Stem hid snarled, slamming the door behind Daniel before returning tae where he’d been before being rudely interrupted, hauns oan hips and feet wide apart at a quarter tae nine.

  “Noo, where wis Ah?” he’d asked pleasantly, looking aboot at the frightened faces in front ae him.

  “Please sir, please sir?” Tinky Taylor…nae relation tae Johnboy…wan ae the goody-goody wans…hid squealed, haun shooting up.

  Clearly getting in there early, Johnboy hid thought…the snivelling, snottery, wee shitehoose.

  “Oh, aye, in case Ah furget, Miss Hacket won’t be back this term as she’s no well. Her summer holidays wur spoilt because ae aw you lot. Ah hope youse ur aw well and truly satisfied. Well, Ah’m here noo and Ah’m her replacement fur this year. It’s ma way, or no way. Hiv youse aw goat that?”

  Tinky Taylor’s haun hid shot up again at this proclamation.

  “Name?”

  “When will...”

  “Name?”

  “When will Miss Hacket be back, sir?”

  “Don’t ye worry aboot that, boy! You jist concentrate oan whit’s staunin up here in front ae ye,” Dave Stem hid retorted, as forty four sets ae eyes aw zoomed doon oan tae that broon corduroy-covered cod-piece ae his in horror.

  Johnboy hid felt Senga tremble in her seat beside him. He’d wanted tae nip up there and gie the big basturt a moothful ae dandruff fur upsetting her, bit he couldnae lift his arse up aff ae his seat either. In fact, he couldnae hiv done a thing even if he’d tried, especially when he realised that his legs wur shaking jist as much as Senga’s wur.

  “Right, you withoot a name? Aye, you, dafty,” Mr Hard-on hid snarled at Tinky. “Go and grab they jotters aff ma desk and haun them oot tae everywan. When ye’ve goat yer jotters, Ah want ye aw tae write a wee story, withoot any filth in it, aboot whit youse aw goat up tae in yer holidays. If anywan needs a pencil, take wan fae the box oan ma desk.”

  Wee Erchie McFadden, who wis intae aw they war movies, hid said, aw awe-struck, that ye could ‘taste the fear in the air’ when Johnboy’d spoken tae him in the dining hut queue later oan, although Johnboy hid put this doon tae Daniel Boone’s rancid arse, rather than anything else.

  Efter Johnboy hid scoffed six left o’er puddings fae the paid pink ticket tables, it hid been back tae the classroom fur mair punishment. By the time the school bell hid rung fur the efternoon break, he wis knackered. He hidnae managed mair than five minutes kip at any wan time, withoot Dave Stem screaming and snarling the odds at him. If it wisnae him bawling at Johnboy tae stoap drapping aff tae sleep, it wis the racket the walking hard-on made when swanning aboot, shrieking at everywan tae pay attention, that hid kept Johnboy awake. Johnboy hid decided that day that, efter five hard years ae learning nothing, it wis time tae leave school and get himsel something proper tae dae wae his time. Fleeing doos sounded like a good idea and he’d made up his mind tae heid up tae the cabin at the tap ae Parly Road efter school tae see if Skull wis in need ae an extra pair ae hauns. Johnboy wis gonnae ask Skull if he’d take him oan as his apprentice doo-boy.

  He’d jist wandered doon tae the school gates at the St James Road end ae the school, when Tony Gucci and Joe McManus whistled tae him fae Rodger The Dodger’s scrap shoap at the corner ae McAslin Street across the road.

  “Wis Skull at school the day?” Tony demanded.

  “Naw.”

  “Right, let’s go,” Joe said, as they baith aboot turned and trotted aff.

  Johnboy raced efter them, roond by Murray Street and then right oan tae Parly Road. When he caught up wae them, they spoke as they ran.

  “The cabin’s been burned doon,” Tony panted.

  Johnboy stoapped running.

  “C’mone Johnboy, we cannae stoap. We need tae see whit’s happened tae Skull,” Joe shouted back, no missing a step.

  Johnboy raced tae catch up wae them, dodging in and oot ae people who wur coming and gaun fae the shoaps wae their bags full ae messages.

  “Whit dae ye mean?”

  “Ah heard at school this morning that the cabin went up last night. We heided roond tae Barony Street tae see if Skull wis at hame bit there wis a polis car sitting ootside his closemooth.”

  “Ye’re no saying he wis in the cabin, ur ye?” Johnboy gasped, stoapping again.

  “Fur fuck’s sake, Johnboy…c’mone…we cannae stoap!”

  Johnboy caught up wae them again ootside Curley’s, nearly knocking Soiled Sally and Foosty Taylor, Tinky Taylor’s ma, doon oan tae they big arses ae theirs.

  “The cabin’s burnt doon tae the ground. There’s aw sorts ae bizzies and other people there. They’ve roped aff the front ae the pavement, as well as behind the billboards.”

  “Bit, ye don’t think he wis in the cabin, dae ye?”

  “Aye,” they baith shouted.

  “Where ur we gaun?”

  “Up tae The Martyrs’ Church, jist across fae the cabin, at the junction ae Parly Road and Monkland Street. We should be able tae get in roond the back.”

  They turned right oan tae Glebe Street and then first oan the left intae the tap end ae McAslin Street. When they reached the corner ae Martyr Street, they stoapped fur a breather so Tony could peer roond the corner tae see whit wis happening doon where the cabin should’ve been, at the Parly Road end. Efter a few glances roond the corner, he heided across the road and up a close, followed by Joe and Johnboy. When Johnboy looked doon tae the left as he crossed the road, he spotted a couple ae polis cars, a fire engine and a white van, aw parked in front ae the billboards. When they went through the closemooth, they jumped up oan tae the wall and walked alang the tap ae it towards the back ae the church. Tony said he thought the church hid been shut fur years. They broke wan ae the back windaes oan the wee slope-roofed building at the back ae it and climbed in, heiding straight fur the stairs above the front entrance. When they reached the balcony, they stood oan the back row ae pews, which gied them a bird’s eye view across tae the billboards. The cabin wis maistly jist a big pile ae black burnt ash and buckled corrugated iron sheets. Part ae the bottom hauf ae it wis still staunin erect, wae two gaps where the corrugated sheets lay oan their sides nearby. A white tent hid been set up, practically oan tap ae the pile, and men wur wandering aboot, wearing wellies, polis uniforms and plain clothes. The cabin itsel wis roped aff and there wis whit looked like wee stickers or sticks at different angles stuck in the ground roond aboot it.

  “Fuck, look at that,” Joe muttered.

  “Whit?”

  “The ladder?”

  “Where?”

  “Ye kin jist see it at this side ae the cabin, nearest us.”

  Whit they could see wis part ae the ladder. It hid two good steps oan it at the bottom and two black charred wans above them and wis lying oan the ground at the side ae where the door hid been. The rest ae the ladder wis naewhere tae be seen.

  “Whit dis that mean?” Johnboy asked.

  “It means the ladder must’ve been up against the cabin when it wis burned doon, insteid ae chained tae the railings behind the billboards,” Tony replied.

  “Which means somebody must’ve been inside when the fire s
tarted.”

  Silence.

  “Dae ye no think the reason the polis wur up at Skull’s wis tae find oot if it wis him that burnt it doon?” Johnboy asked, breaking the silence.

  “Maybe.”

  “Aw, Christ!”

  “Whit?” Tony and Joe baith asked thegither, turning tae look at him.

  “Ah went tae find Skull’s sister the day at school tae ask where he wis and Ah wis telt the polis hid come and took her oot ae school.”

  Nowan said anything. They jist stood and looked oot through the dirty windae panes at whit wis gaun oan across the road, lost in their ain thoughts. Efter aboot five minutes, Tony eventually spoke.

  “Right, the polis ur probably gonnae try and get a haud ae us.”

  “Whit fur? We hivnae done anything,” Johnboy protested.

  “Naw, bit they’ll want statements tae see who wis using the cabin. It won’t take them long tae suss oot that we own it noo.”

  “Dae we need tae go and see the Murphys?”

  “It’s probably they pricks that done this as a comeback fur us tanning their loft…the basturts.”

  “How wid they hiv known it wis us?”

  “Who knows? Maybe we wur clocked by somewan,” Joe said, shrugging as he peeked through the dirty glass again.

  “So, whit dae we say tae the bizzies then?”

  “We jist tell them we goat the cabin aff the Murphys,” Tony replied, still looking oot the windae.

  “They won’t believe we goat it fur nothing though, will they?”

  “We’ll tell them we hivnae came up wae a price yet,” Joe murmured, no taking his eyes away fae whit wis gaun oan across the road.

  “Right, that’s settled then. Let’s go,” Tony announced, stepping back fae the glass, a pained expression oan his face.

  “Where?”

  “Let’s heid intae the toon centre fur a while till we see whit’s gaun oan. We’ll need tae avoid the polis and they Murphys.”

  They retraced their steps doon the stairs fae where they’d come hauf an hour earlier. Efter climbing oot the back windae, they drapped doon oan tae the ground and heided straight fur the nearest closemooth. They’d only gone a few steps intae it when Shaun Murphy appeared at the front entrance. When they aboot-turned tae leg it, the two ugly blond-haired twins, Danny and Mick, walked in through the back.