by Todd, Ian
“Bloody hell…listen tae this,” he’d shouted oot tae everywan. “It says here that sales ae ‘The Laughing Polisman’ record in Glesga hiv soared and the song is oan the verge ae making the national pop charts.”
Seemingly, the majority ae the sales hid been clocked up across the record coonter ae Woolies, doon oan Argyle Street. The paper claimed that the store hid sold 10,000 copies oan the first and second day ae opening efter the New year.
“Ah know ye, ya fuckwit, ye,” Bumper shouted at the back ae the departing Barr’s lorry as it crawled past them intae The Parade, as he slipped back intae his seat.
“Fin, ur ye bloody enjoying yersel or whit?” The Stalker snarled, staring at the sergeant beside him.
“Y’know, it’s funny ye should ask that, Paddy, bit tae tell ye the truth, Ah’m hivving a right rare auld time, so Ah am.”
“Well, whenever ye’re done fannying aboot, kin ye get me doon tae ma greeting meeting in wan piece and oan bloody time?”
Chapter Thirty Six
JP stood at the kitchen sink and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He repeated his breathing exercise, only this time, he exhaled mair slowly, coonting steadily up tae ten. He felt himsel relax. The quack hid telt him he hid tae calm himsel doon or he widnae see the coont oan the big night. JP knew that everywan present in the hall at The Journeyman’s Club oan Tuesday hid recognised that Charlie Mann hid no jist taken the wind right oot ae his sails, bit hid successfully kicked him in the auld ging-gang-goolies in front ae aw his ain people. Despite his best breathing efforts, he could still feel the blood drain fae his face as he thought back tae the launch. It wid’ve been funny if it wisnae so bloody irritating, he cursed tae himsel. He wis sixty nine years auld, gaun oan seventy, bit when that snivelling wee prick, Charlie Mann hid announced that Helen Taylor wis planning tae staun against him, JP hid wanted tae throw himsel doon oan tae the flair and scream and howl like a demented wean who wanted its dummy tit, so he hid. He’d silently coonted seventy people in that hall, wan fur every year he’d been alive, yet when her name wis mentioned, he’d felt as if there wis only himsel and Charlie Mann present. Everything and everywan else in the room hid jist disappeared. It wis as if JP and Mann hid been hurled back intae the midst ae time, tae a bygone age. Deep doon inside ae him, JP hid always known that it wid, wan day, come tae this…that history wid eventually end up repeating itsel. The signs hid always been there o’er the years wae Taylor and aw her shenanigans, aggressively opposing the warrant sales back in the Toonheid, despite everywan’s best efforts tae clip her wings. She jist widnae take a telling. Things hid goat worse, particularly since he’d moved up tae Springburn. He remembered his heart hid sunk when he’d come across Taylor and Mann, hinging aff ae each other’s erms, laughing, as they walked up Springburn Road the morning efter he’d moved intae his new hoose. A week later, wan ae the hoosing boys hid phoned him up tae tell him that Taylor hid put in a complaint, demanding tae know why he’d goat wan ae the ground flair, newly-built maisonettes, seeing that she knew aboot forty people who’d been oan the waiting list fur nearly ten years. It hid also been at this time that Mann and they two hauf-wit pals ae his, Henderson and McGuigan, hid decided tae keep the pot simmering rather than let sleeping dogs lie. He blamed Taylor fur stirring things up. Mann hid even hid the audacity tae try and block his membership ae The Journeyman’s Club a week efter he’d settled intae his wee hoose. Mann must’ve known fine well that he hid nae chance ae blackballing JP, bit that clearly hidnae been the purpose ae the exercise in the first place anyway. Naw, the wee loser hid wanted tae make a statement...cause a bit ae bother...keep his miserable name oot in the open...tae remind people that despite his age, Charlie Mann wis still a rebel. A bloody rebel withoot a clue, that’s whit Charlie Mann wis and always hid been, as far as JP wis concerned. In the days following the hijacking ae his launch, JP hid gone o’er the interruption in his mind, weighing up the damage, if any, bit hid always come tae the same conclusion. The Three Comrades could nae mair affect the ootcome ae the Keppochhill by-election any mair than the Tories or the Liberals could the last time roond. Mann wis farting intae the wrang end ae a wind tunnel. JP hid learned long ago never tae take anything fur granted. He knew that a weeping sore could become infected and inflamed and turn intae a gaping wound. Charlie Mann wis nothing bit an irritant. He’d thrown doon the gauntlet…in public. The auld prick hidnae hid the guts tae throw his ain hat intae the ring...bit there wis nae surprise there. JP wid bloody squash that uppity cow, the same as he’d splattered that Auntie Jeannie ae hers aw o’er the pavements ae the Toonheid, thirty six years earlier in 1935. In the thirties, the nurse hid hid a real team behind her, supporting her, putting in the leg work. Noo, there wis a worthy opponent…a real threat…wandering aboot the slums every efternoon in that Florence Nightingale ootfit ae hers, dishing oot free healthcare tae aw the flotsam in her ain time, before the snappers came hame fae school, urging aw the wummin tae get oot and get involved. It hid been a real close shave. He remembered at the time being relieved that at last, the election day hid come upon them. Another few days and she’d hiv walked it. How she’d managed tae get the living dead, especially the wummin, oot tae vote, he’d never been able tae figure oot. Naw, Helen Taylor wisnae in the same league as Jeannie Smullen, bit he widnae let himsel get too complacent though. The bitch clearly hid the same anti-men-anti-authority attitude that that auld scheming auntie ae hers hid, bit this time, it should be a walk in the park compared tae the fight he’d hid oan his hauns against the Independent Labour Party back then. Mind you, he could be daeing withoot this. He’d been glad that everywan hid kept their calm. At wan point oan Tuesday, he’d thought a skirmish wis gonnae erupt efter a few ae his supporters hid made a move tae evict Mann fae the hall.
“Charlie, piss aff and go and bury yer heid in somewan’s hauf empty pint glass, ya auld jakey, ye,” Harry Fisher, the butcher, hid snarled.
“Ah’m as entitled tae be here as any ae youse ur, so Ah am.”
“This is a private meeting, so it is,” Willie Peg-leg hid shouted tae the auld basturt sitting up the back, puffing oan that roll-up ae his, clearly enjoying the attention.
“If ye want me tae shift, ye’ll need tae come and shift me yersels, so ye will,” Mann hid taunted.
“Look, people, let’s no play this auld hauf-wit’s game. Ah’m well aware ae his auld disruptive tactics. We aw know whit the score is wae him. Peter here will make up the lists and divvy up the tasks that we need tae be getting oan wae. There’s a bundle ae leaflets up here oan the table fur youse tae take away and start distributing roond the doors. Don’t be shy noo…there’s plenty mair where they came fae. When we meet again oan Monday, we’ll get somewan oan the door tae keep the shite fae the soles ae oor shoes oan the mat ootside, where it belongs. Thanks fur coming and showing yer support. Let’s get oot there and show the good people ae Keppochhill and Springburn that they’re no furgoatten aboot and that when Ah’m back, entrenched in George’s Square, they’ll soon be reaping the said benefits,” JP hid declared o’er the sound ae a snorting guffaw emanating oot ae the mooth ae the auld hauf-wit sitting in the back row.
Chapter Thirty Seven
The Stalker and Bumper came across The Gruesome Twosome, in the shape ae the two Possilpark sergeants, Dave McGovern and Shane Priestly, dragging their heels and girning like a pair ae auld hens. They’d been excluded fae the meeting and hid been telt tae wait in the canteen ae Central in St Andrew’s Square.
“So, whit’s the score then, Paddy? The pair ae us hiv been hinging aboot here, drinking this pish fur the past hour,” McGovern bleated, screwing up his face as he took another slug ae his tea.
“Pass.”
“Whit’s that supposed tae mean then?”
“It means ye know mair than Ah dae. Nowan telt me the sergeants wur tae be excluded. Ah’m sure Duggie will keep ye posted oan whit gets said efter he comes oot,” The Stalker replied, wondering whit the hell wis gaun o
an.
Up until the previous Friday…Hogmanay…before Tam Simpson’s face and heid hid goat splattered aw o’er his stairheid landing, the northern part ae the city’s inspectors and sergeants, covering Possil, Milton, Lambhill, Colston, Burmulloch, Springburn, Balornock and Sighthill, hid been meeting up wae their superintendent, Daddy Jackson, who wis responsible fur polising in the north ae the city. The chief inspectors fae the Murder and Serious Crime and Intelligence squads hid also been in attendance. They’d been getting thegither tae try and suss oot whit wis gaun oan between the Simpson brothers and The Mankys, a wee group ae up-and-coming thugs fae The Stalker’s ain patch. The Simpsons…big time gangsters…wur a ruthless band ae desperados who wur based up in Possil. Behind them, should they ever need it, wis another maniac called Blaster Mackay, who, oan the surface, ran a busy scrap business up in Lambhill, bit who wis in fact, a murderous thug who widnae pish oan ye if ye wur oan fire. In amongst the mix somewhere, wis a young crew called The Mankys, led by Tony Gucci, who wis only eighteen, and who originally hailed fae the Toonheid in the city centre. Gucci wis a rising young ned, who’d gathered roond him a smart manky crowd ae thieving toe-rags who wur absolutely ruthless if anywan crossed them and who, The Stalker believed, wur the wans who’d actually done the damage oan Tam Simpson’s handsome face. Fae whit he could make oot, The Mankys hid the backing ae The Big Man, Pat Molloy, millionaire gangster, reputedly living the high life in Spain, and who made The Simpsons and Blaster Mackay look like choir boys in comparison. The Stalker hid never denied that the picture oan the ground wis extremely complicated because ae the ducking and diving ae the key players involved. Getting detailed intelligence oan who wis daeing whit tae who, where and when, hid been difficult. The confused picture oan the ground leading up tae Tam Simpson’s murder, hid meant that, despite his best efforts tae raise his suspicions and concerns, The Stalker hid been the only wan that hid actually believed that Gucci’s manky-arsed crowd wur the key players in whit wis gaun oan. Aw the rest ae the local inspectors and the high heid yins above them, jist hidnae been able tae accept that a wee shitey-arsed bunch ae misfits like The Mankys wid be allowed tae become players by the big boys involved in organised crime in the city. Oan tap ae aw this, The Stalker could see why maist ae the investigation’s focus, resources and energies wur being targeted at finding Tam Simpson’s younger brother, Toby, and his right haun lieutenant, Bootsy Henderson, who’d baith disappeared oan the same day as the auldest Simpson brother hid been dispatched. Fae a bizzy point ae view, it made total sense, seeing as Toby hid been identified as the wan that hid inflicted the maist serious damage oan young Joe McManus, a brain damaged teenager, who’d died ae his injuries efter being seriously assaulted and stabbed tae death by Toby Simpson, Frisky Frank McKenna and Jo Jo Robson. It meant that, wance apprehended, Toby wid be kept in custody, thus allowing investigators access tae him, day or night, tae try and find oot whit hid been gaun oan behind the scenes leading up tae the murder ae his aulder brother. Another twist in the story that hid clouded the water, hid been the sudden disappearance ae Blaster Mackay oan that Friday as well. The Stalker knew that it hid been established that Blaster hid heided oot tae a farm oan the other side ae Alexandria, near Dumbarton, in the early hours ae Hogmanay, tae pick up a load ae cut-price chickens. Blaster’s lorry hid been found, abandoned, oan Great Western Road oot near Anniesland during the morning rush-hour, being pillaged by hauf the walking deid fae Yoker, who wur aw seen tae be stuffing the clucking, distressed birds, intae anything the local wummin and weans could get their hauns oan. The Stalker hid also picked up oan the grapevine that the bosses doon in Central believed that Blaster wis noo deid, bit like Tam Simpson, they wurnae too sure ae the motive behind his untimely demise. The Stalker hid been questioned as tae whether he’d picked up any chatter between The Simpsons and Blaster prior tae Blaster’s disappearing act, which he hidnae. The fact that he’d been excluded fae the overall investigation, despite him being the wan tae initially raise his concerns aboot trouble between Springburn and Possil, really rankled. Nothing really seemed quite right, if ye took a step back fae the situation. Joe McManus hid run aboot wae Tony Gucci since he wis a snapper, up until McManus hid been seriously assaulted and left wae permanent brain damage in the late summer ae 1970. A year efter parting company fae the rest ae The Mankys due tae his permanent injuries, eighteen year auld Joe McManus wis found stabbed tae death oan the foyer steps ae the Princes Bingo Hall oan Gourlay Street. Two Simpson gangsters, Frisky Frank McKenna and Jo Jo Robson, wur awready oan remand up in the Bar-L, charged wae McManus’s murder. A witness, accompanied by a brief, hid suddenly and conveniently turned up at the cop shoap across in Possil, at aboot the exact time as Tam Simpson and the social work floozy that he’d been perching oan, hid baith been blasted by a booby trap contraption efter tripping it when Simpson opened his front door and stepped inside. The witness hid declared that he’d clocked Toby Simpson, Tam’s psycho wee brother, stab Joe McManus twice wae a bayonet, oan the steps ae The Princes Bingo Hall. This hid corroborated whit an auld wummin hid awready stated efter she’d watched whit wis happened through the bingo hall foyer’s glass panelled doors. While the stabbing wis taking place, the other two, who wur noo oan remand, hid ladled intae the boy wae their feet and hauns while he wis lying oan the ground wae the blood pishing oot ae him. The Stalker hid been talking tae his Possil inspector counterpart, Duggie Dougan, who’d telt him that the investigation team wur aw o’er the place and wur pinning their hopes oan getting their hauns oan Toby, tae shed some light oan whit the fuck hid been gaun oan. The other unexplained mystery, at least tae The Stalker, wis why Duggie hid decided tae let The Gruesome Twosome arrest Toby’s lieutenants first that morning, rather than the bigger fish, Toby. According tae Duggie, he wis still interviewing the key witness tae the McManus murder, Harper Harris, a two-bit dime, snivelling cat burglar. Duggie claimed that he’d been wanting tae be in oan the arrest ae Toby himsel. It wis aw highly suspect, and The Stalker wondered if Duggie wis oan the take and hid somehow managed tae get word tae Toby tae disappear before his front door hid been kicked in a hauf an hour efter Jo Jo Robson and Frisky Frank McKenna hid been arrested. The Stalker still wisnae convinced aboot the murder squads tactics and they knew it. When he’d raised his suspicions aboot Duggie, wan ae the basturts must’ve telt him and noo nowan wis speaking tae him. In the efternoon, oan the day ae the murder, The Stalker hid arrested Tony Gucci and wan ae his cronies, Pat McCabe, oan suspicion ae Tam Simpson's murder, bit the investigating team hidnae even come across tae Springburn tae question them. Before The Stalker hid cottoned oan tae the fact that the murder investigating team wurnae interested in the Springburn connection, Gucci’s brief hid turned up and hid sprung Gucci and his pal fae the cells where The Stalker hid been haudin them. No only that, bit Gucci’s brief, Graham Portoy, who’d accompanied Harper Harris tae the cop shoap in Possil tae inform everywan that he’d saw McManus being murdered, hid started harassment and false imprisonment proceedings against The Stalker. The Stalker hid read somewhere in wan ae the American True Detective magazines, that the first forty eight hours efter a murder his been committed is the maist crucial time. If ye cannae take advantage ae this time tae maximise yer evidence during that short windae, then the trail starts tae go cauld pretty quickly. Earlier in the efternoon, oan the day ae Tam’s killing, The Stalker hid been so frustrated at the lack ae interest shown in Tony Gucci’s possible association in the murder that he’d bitten the bullet and nipped doon tae try and speak tae Jack Tipple, the city’s Assistant Chief Constable. By a stroke ae luck, he’d caught him ootside in the street, heiding fur a bite tae eat. The Stalker hid sat in Tipple’s car and explained why he thought it wid be madness tae exclude Tony Gucci’s manky mob fae the start ae the investigation. Tipple hidnae said very much, apart fae asking a few questions here and there. At the end ae The Stalker's spiel, the assistant hid telt him tae go back tae the cop shoap in Springburn and no say a word tae anywan aboot their co
nversation. He’d telt The Stalker, in no uncertain terms, that he wisnae willing tae undermine the investigating officers at this early stage ae the enquiry, bit that he wid take oan board whit The Stalker hid telt him. Later oan that efternoon, The Stalker hid received a telephone call fae Daddy Jackson, who’d informed him that he wis being promoted tae become the new inspector fur Springburn. The Stalker’s auld inspector, Chic Thompson, hid been informed, withoot any explanation, tae clear his desk immediately and hid been moved oot ae Springburn that same day, across tae a mair upmarket and less crime-riddled part ae the city. Since his promotion, The Stalker hidnae seen or spoken tae any ae the other inspectors, despite informing everywan that he hid Tony Gucci and Pat McCabe in custody fur their involvement in Tam Simpson’s murder. The basturts wur obviously black-balling him. He hesitated at the boardroom door. He could jist hear the murmurings ae voices oan the other side. He wis well pissed aff, hivving found oot fae The Gruesome Twosome and wee Peggy McAvoy, Daddy Jackson’s wee sexy blond secretary, that those inside hid awready been in attendance fur the best part ae an hour. He took a deep breath, turned the haundle and pushed open the door before stepping intae the lion’s den.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Helen folded back the newspaper and then folded it in hauf again, making it mair manageable tae read. She picked up her fag packet and popped two intae her gub and flicked the wheel oan the lighter wae her thumb. Efter disappearing in a cloud ae smoke as she furiously puffed oan baith fags, she took wan fae between her lips and haunded it o’er tae Betty.
“Right, ur ye ready then?” she wheezed, swishing the smoke away wae a sweep ae her haun.