by Ian Todd
“Whit?”
“The shite in the soup jist being a wee taster,” McGovern asked, as the other two couldnae contain themsels and chuckled.
“You mark ma words. Aw they convicted cons across there will be scheming, waiting fur us tae appear in amongst them,” The Stalker replied wae a swish ae his erm towards the ootside wall. “How long dae ye think people like us will last, eh?”
“We’ll be well protected, Paddy. Ma Brief, Silas Abraham, telt me that we’re too high profile fur anything tae happen tae us, so he did,” Elvis replied nervously, looking across at the plate glass viewing windae, as the auld pass-man wandered past wae a brush in his haun, glancing in at them.
“And ye believe that, dae ye?”
“When wis the last time ye heard ae an ex-bizzy getting done in, in the jail?”
“Suit yersels,” The Stalker muttered, gaun back tae the scriptures.
“Fuck this,” Shane Priestly scowled, throwing doon the cards. “See whit ye’ve gone and done noo, Paddy?”
“Don’t listen tae him, Shane. That brief ae mine telt me that they’ve goat fuck aw oan us. Service notebook? It’s no ma wee black book that they’re sitting wae.”
“If you hidnae sold us doon the river fur a few measly bob, we widnae be in this situation,” The Stalker reminded him, no looking up fae the good book.
“And if you’d declared whit that Haufwit Murray telt ye tae start wae, then none ae us wid be sitting here. Ye wur well-warned tae stoap fucking interfering, Paddy. Noo look where it’s goat ye…and us.”
“Aw Ah wis efter wis justice fur that wee nurse.”
“And noo ye’re up oan a murder rap, accused ae being responsible fur her death? Where’s the justice in that? We’re denying everything. As far as me and Shane ur concerned, ye’re oan yer lonesome. Is that no right, Shane?”
“Too bloody true.”
“And they say there’s nae honour amongst thieves? Whoever came up wae that wan, goat it right first time, so they did,” The Inspector muttered, licking his thumb before turning a page.
Shane goat up and went across tae the seat underneath the observation windae. The auld pass-man wis making him nervous. He reminded him ae a lizard wae that auld wrinkled skin across that leathery face ae his. When his brief telt him that he’d be kept oan remand until jist before the trial date, he’d gone aff his heid.
“Ur you fucking jesting me or whit? Ah telt that evil bitch everything she wanted tae know. She promised me a deal, so she did,” he’d lamented.
“And ye’ll get wan, Shane. They’re concerned fur yer safety, oot there oan the street.”
“Ma safety? Fur Christ’s sake, man, Ah’m in a bloody jail full ae bad guys here who’re aw wanting tae get their hauns oan me, so Ah am.”
“They’re protecting ye, Shane. Honestly, strange though it might seem, bit this is the safest place tae be. Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie might be locked up, bit they’ve goat people everywhere. Surely you should know that? Keeping you holed up in a secret location wis considered, bit they thought they’d be able tae keep ye better protected in here until…nearer the trial. Don’t worry. Trust me.”
Paddy wis right, he telt himsel. None ae them wid last five minutes across in the halls, even in amongst the stoat-the-baws and rapists oan twenty-four-hour protection. He jist hid tae keep the faith. His brief hid telt him that there wis nae chance ae a deal fur McGovern. He wis gaun doon. Alang wae Paddy and the two gangsters, McGovern wis fucked. His brief hid repeatedly assured him, that despite his situation appearing grim, getting offered a deal hid been his get-oot-ae-jail-free card…even if it didnae feel like it at the time in that wee country polis station, the week he wis supposed tae be doon in Balfron fishing. He jist needed tae stick in there, keep his cover up ae being upset aboot the situation him and his co-accused found themsels in. If they kept them isolated fae the other cons and he carefully checked oot whit wis in his grub, he should be okay. It wis the waiting that wis the killer, no knowing whit the fuck wis gaun oan. McGovern’s brief hid only been up tae see him twice.
“How come that lawyer ae yours is up here practically every second or third day?” McGovern hid demanded tae know.
“Because he’s the best, that’s why. Ah wis lucky oan who Ah goat.”
He’d only seen Lemmon twice, the same as McGovern. The other visits hid been fae that chookter inspector and wan ae his side kicks, apart fae the wance when Cleopatra hersel hid appeared and wanted mair blood oot ae him.
“Just wanting to go over a few bits and pieces,” the bitch hid assured him before grilling him fur mair information.
Of course, he’d tried tae tell them that he’d gied them everything, bit they’d persisted. Hauf the shite he’d ended up telling them hid been made up. The threat ae that deal ae his being withdrawn if he didnae gie them mair info, hid been repeatedly slung back at him. His nerves wur in tatters…everywan’s wur. It wisnae jist Paddy’s, despite McGovern’s bravado. The chookter inspector hid telt him that he might hiv tae dae a wee bit ae time, bit that it wid be in an open prison in amongst first offenders and businessmen in fur tax-dodging. His brief hid agreed. They’d mentioned Penninghame Hoose, doon in Newton Stewart or Castle Huntly, jist ootside Dundee. Seemingly, Penninghame wis like a holiday camp where ye wur allowed tae wander aboot daeing yer ain thing. He jist hid tae keep up appearances…while watching oot whit wis in the slops that wis supposed tae pass as grub. The first thing he wis gonnae dae when he goat oot, wis hiv a wee bit ae R&R doon in Balfron. His future job prospects wur shite, bit he still hid his savings and shares. That wid tide him o’er tae start wae. He wisnae spending while he wis in the jail, so the interest wid be building up. He jist hid tae survive long enough. Paddy wis right though. They wur aw in a precarious situation.
Chapter Twenty Seven
“That ugly wee pass-man…the wan that wis shagging aw they patients?” Wan-bob asked, looking up fae his book.
“Whit aboot him?”
“Get him in here tae clean this place up while we’re oot in the yard. It’s like a fucking midden in here, so it is.”
“The full works?” Charlie asked, stuffing his face wae a haunful ae crisp crumbs fae the bottom ae his packet, as hauf ae them landed oan the flair at his feet.
“Everything. You mind and tell him that he’s tae dae under the beds as well. Ah’ll be inspecting the cell when we get back.”
‘Who wid imagine eh?”
“Whit?”
“An ugly wee greaser like him perching oan aw his patients. Must’ve shagged hunners ae them o’er the years, the clatty basturt.”
“It’s a power thing.”
“Whit is?”
“Taking advantage ae aw that distressed fanny. Imagine aw these wummin coming in tae see the psychiatrist thinking he wis interested in their wee problems, bit aw he wis really interested in wis getting intae they knickers ae theirs?”
“Fanny oan tap, supplied and paid fur by the National Health Service.”
“So, who am Ah gonnae hump the day? Ah know, we’ll hiv that wee blonde thing wae the self-esteem issues, the wan that thinks there’s something wrang wae her because she caught that man ae hers shagging a greased up toilet roll in the bog.”
“Ha! Ha!”
“Imagine? Ah think Ah’ll hiv masel a wee slice ae neurosis tae start the day aff.”
“Or, Ah think Ah’ll hiv me a threesome wae that nice brunette wae the big tits who’s suffering fae schizoid paranoia…two fur the price ae wan.”
“That’s fucking sick, so it is,” Wan-bob growled, as they baith cackled.
“Aye, and that’s no who else he wis perching oan either,” Charlie said knowingly, stuffing his empty crisp packet wae they fingers ae his doon between the wall and the side ae his mattress oan tae the flair under his bed.
“Who?” Wan-bob asked, peering at him o’er the tap ae The Atalian Job.
“That wee nurse, whit’s her name? Ann Jackson’s daughter.”
“
Johnboy Taylor’s girlfriend? Bit, Ah thought they wur supposed tae be engaged?”
“They ur, bit while he wis supping porridge doon in Dumfries, that ugly wee basturt wis in there playing hide the sausage wae her, behind the glaikit basturt’s back. Ye know whit aw these wee nurses ur like. Dae anything tae grab themsels a doctor, even if he is an ugly wee basturt. ”
“Dis Johnboy know? The other Mankys?
“Fuck knows.”
“Ah cannae believe that. See? That’s whit’s wrang wae the world. Nae fucking respect. As soon as yer back’s turned, they posh basturts ur in there taking advantage ae they poor wee decent, working class, naïve lassies. It widnae hiv happened in oor time, so it widnae. Ah’ll fucking advantage him, the clatty wee snivelling cunt, so Ah will. Right, make sure that basturt brings a bucket and a scrubbing-brush wae plenty ae soapy water alang wae that sweeping brush and shovel ae his. Ah want tae see ma handsome reflection aff ae they painted brick walls when Ah get back fae the exercise yard. And another thing, Charlie, get Chucky Two Shoes tae gie the dirty basturt a right good slapping aboot they chops ae his. Ah’ll fucking gie him dipping his posh wick where it’s no welcome,” Wan-broon growled indignantly.
“They’re early the day,” Charlie said frowning, looking at his watch.
“Oh, er, hello Wan…er, Mr Broon. Ah wis wondering if Ah could maybe hiv a wee word oan the QT?” SO Marshall asked, looking shifty as fuck, his chain still attached tae the key in the lock.
“Of course ye kin, son. Come in and grab yersel a pew. Move that arse ae yers alang that thing that’s impersonating a mattress and let Mr Marshall take the weight aff ae his shiny tackety boots, Charlie.”
“Oh, right, th…thanks. It should only take a minute,” The SO stuttered nervously, withdrawing the key before releasing the deidlock catch oan the cell door, before skiting across the cell flair tae the end ae the bed.
“Whit kin Ah dae ye fur?” Wan-bob asked, swinging his fancy slipper-covered feet aff the bed and sitting up.
“Well, er, it’s like this,” the SO gulped.
“Look, take yer time, son. Ah’m no gaun anywhere soon,” Mr Bridger said encouragingly, receiving a wee grateful glance back in return.
“Ah’ve goat a beauty ae a wee car…”
“And ye want tae sell it…” Charlie interjected.
“It’s gone.”
“Gone?” they baith asked thegither.
“Blagged…fae ma lock-up garage…ma pride and joy,” The SO whined pitifully, jist aboot in tears.
“Naw!” Wan-bob exclaimed. “Dirty selfish fuckers.”
“Wan minute it wis there and the next morning, it wis offskie. The basturts even took ma mother-in-law’s good Egyptian cotton sheet that Ah used tae cover it up wae, so they did.”
“Is that no fucking bang oot ae order?” Wan-bob growled o’er tae Charlie.
“Thieving fuck-pigs,” Charlie agreed.
“Anyway…” the screw continued, gulping wae emotion and twisting they fingers ae his roond his key-chain.
“Aye?”
“Well, Ah wis wondering if there wis any chance ae…”
“Me trying tae retrieve it back fur ye?”
“Er, aye.”
“Whit kind ae car is it?” Charlie asked him, flicking scattered crisp crumbs aff his knees and mattress oan tae the flair.
“A…a Morgan F-2. Ma whole life…gone,” the bewildered SO replied, snapping they fingers ae his, practically in tears. “Ah’ve fucking spent ma entire life working oan that wee beauty, so Ah hiv. Kept me oot ae the hoose, away fae her indoors. At first Ah thought it hid been her…she wis always threatening tae get shot ae it when Ah wis at ma work, bit naw, even she widnae stoop that low,” he lamented.
“And the polis? Whit ur they saying?”
“The polis?” he snarled bitterly. “Couldnae gie a fuck. Came and hid a look. Didnae even try and find any dabs or nothing. They said that it’ll probably be doon south somewhere.”
“So, er, whit ur ye expecting me tae dae aboot it, son? If the polis say they cannae track it doon, then…” Wan-bob said, shrugging they silk dressing gown-clad shoulders ae his, leaving the solution hinging in the air.
“Er, Ah wis wondering if ye couldnae er, maybe put oot the word...like, or something like that.”
“Me?” Wan-bob exclaimed, sounding surprised.
“Kin ye no jist go and get yersel another wan?” Charlie asked sympathetically.
“Another wan?” The SO spat bitterly, before remembering who he wis talking tae. “Er, sorry, Ah didnae mean tae sound cheeky or anything like that, Mr Hastie,” he whimpered, quickly apologising.
“Ach, don’t worry aboot Charlie here, Mr Marshall. He didnae take offence, did ye, Charlie?”
“Not at all. Christ, if it wis mine, Ah’d be bloody greeting as well, so Ah wid,” Charlie reassured him.
“So, whit’s the score wae the insurance people then?”
“Insurance? They said they’d gie me the market value ae the car. Ah put double ae that intae it o’er the years, the robbing basturts.”
“Maybe ye jist need tae take the dosh and forget it. The polis said so themsels. It’s probably hauf way doon the motorway as we speak…or in some knacker’s yard, getting broken up fur spares. There’s big money in car spares these days, whit wae the price ae them and aw that,” Wan-bob advised, trying no tae pish himsel, as the screw’s face looked crestfallen.
“Oh, er, right…Ah jist thought that maybe…” he said, his voice trailing aff.
“Ach, kin ye no at least gie it a shot, Bob?” Charlie asked him.
“It’s ma pride and joy, so it is, Mr Broon. Ah’d be willing tae dae anything tae get it…”
“Look, Ah hear whit ye’re saying, bit honestly…”
“Ah’m prepared tae help ye oot while ye’re in here…the baith ae youse. Ah could carry…pass oan any wee messages ye wanted fae the ootside like.”
“We awready hiv a wee rat line fur that sort ae stuff, so we dae,” Wan-bob replied, modestly. “Look, Ah’m no promising ye anything, bit Ah’ll see whit Ah kin dae. Ah’ll put oot the word and see whit comes back…bit don’t go haudin yer breath.”
“Oh, Mr Broon…Mr Hastie, thanks. Naw, Ah won’t be too disappointed if nothing fruitful comes back. Anything ye kin dae tae get ma wee baby back hame where she belongs, wid be mair than helpful,” The SO beamed, staunin up, heidin fur the cell door.
“Oh, there wis maybe wan wee thing ye could dae fur me, Mr Marshall…if it widnae put ye tae too much bother,” Wan-bob asked him.
“Oh?”
“Aye, wid there be any chance ae being able tae catch up wae an auld friend ae mine?”
“A…a friend?”
“Aye.”
“Who?”
“Shaky Milne.”
“Who?”
“He’s a pass-man across in the gatehoose.”
“The gatehoose?”
“Aye, he’s an auld boy who wis sent doon fae Peterheid…tae die closer tae his family. He’s dying fae cancer, the poor basturt.”
“Terminal,” Charlie confirmed, sighing, tilting his heid sideways, trying tae imitate the look ae wan ae they apostles he’d seen hivving their tea in a photograph in some Sunday magazine the week before.
“Oh, er…if he’s across in the gatehoose, it might be hard tae…”
“Obviously, wae me and Charlie’s previous career, we wurnae able tae get up tae see him when we wur oot there in freedom street. It wid be much appreciated, so it wid.”
“Look, Ah’ll see whit Ah kin dae, Mr Broon. It might take a few days. It’ll be difficult seeing as where he works. The gatehoose pass-man’s goat his ain cell across there, bit Ah’m sure Ah could manage five minutes, so Ah could.”
“Ach, ye’re a good man, Mr Marshall. Ah’m sure poor auld Shaky wid be forever in yer debt, even though he wullnae be wae us fur much longer.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
“Ah’m telling ye, we’re wasting oor ti
me, Wilma,” Jean muttered, peering through the misted-up windscreen. “That’s no her, is it?” she suddenly asked, rubbing the back ae her leather glove up and doon the glass.
“Where?”
“Carrying the shoapping bags wae the rain-mate covering her curlers,” Jean replied, as Wilma leaned forward in her seat, wiping her side ae the glass.
“Naw,” she replied, trying no tae sound disappointed, efter willing the bus tae get the hell oot ae the road, as she scanned the disgorged passengers heidin aff in opposite directions.
They’d been up at Pricilla’s door earlier. The last time they’d been up at the flat, the day they’d informed her that Lesley Bare hid been murdered, they’d tae put aff arriving because she wis nipping doon tae Crow Road tae dae her messages.
“We’ll gie her another five minutes. It means Ah kin always say that Ah tried tae get a haud ae her.”
Wilma wisnae too sure whit she wis gonnae say if Pricilla did appear. Whit wis there tae say?
“Check this oot,” Jean said, nodding oot ae her side ae the car, as the baith ae them watched an auld wummin search through the litter basket attached tae the bus stoap. “Dae ye think she’s lost something?”
“Ah doubt it. Look at the bags sitting at they feet ae hers. She looks homeless, the poor auld bugger.”
“In this day an age, as well. Ah wonder where she’s kipping.”
“Who knows. Hiv ye been doon in the toon centre at night lately? The place is full ae them…men and wummin. Ye’d think The Corporation could find them a hoose or something.”
“It’s the reason they’re homeless…aw the problems attached tae their situation. It’s no jist because they don’t hiv a hoose,” Jean replied, watching the auld wummin pause and look at something, before bending o’er and putting whitever it wis in wan ae her plastic bags.
“Ah wis meeting that useless basturt ae a man ae mine in wan ae they new American Diner cafés recently. Ah hid tae step o’er a couple ae auld drunks oan the pavement oan route tae the bus stoap. Ah wisnae sure if Ah should see if they wur awright. Oan the way up the road, looking oot the windae, it wis the same every couple ae hunner yards…aye, men and wummin.”