by Ian Todd
“As you’ve jist said, nowan is allowed intae The Cove itsel…”
“Aye?”
“And, well, occasionally, if Ah’m busy like, Ah sometimes jist let a few ae them, the wans that Ah know well enough tae trust, tae quickly nip in and grab something, like if they need an address or a name, jist as long as it’s an in-and-oot job.”
“Ah’m sorry?”
“Jist rarely, like…it saves a lot ae time if me and The Fluffys are busy.”
“Marybell?”
“And Lesley wis wan ae them…”
Silence.
“Oan the sixteenth ae October, when she said that she wanted some dates fae wan ae The Showgirls’ files, Ah allowed her tae jist nip in and grab whit she wis efter,” The Sarge blurted oot.
“Bit, as ye said, she wis jist in and oot…”
“Oh, er, Ah’m no sure, so Ah’m no…plus Ah wis telt no tae mention tae anywan…instructed, mair like.”
“Sergeant…Marybell, Ah’m sorry, bit could ye get tae the point ae whit it is ye’re attempting tae say.”
“Oan the day that Lesley Bare officially withdrew the file, the twenty-third, this place wis hoaching, so it wis. It’s always busy, believe it or no,” The Sergeant added, looking aboot the empty room. “There wis a special offer oan the go, so there wis…fae the sanny lassies.”
“Sanny lassies?”
“Aye, the lassies that used tae sell the sandwiches and cakes aboot the building in here every day this past wee while. They’d a freebie cake session oot there in the corridor at the same time as Lesley wis in here reading the contents ae The Showgirls’ file oan the twenty-third. Seemingly, the sanny lassies hid been asking aw the girls in the typing pools whit cakes they wanted brought in and wur dishing oot free samples tae aw the wans that hid put forward suggestions.”
“Ah’m sorry, Marybell, bit Ah’m still in the dark here oan whit ye’re getting at.”
“Then, roond aboot seven o’clock…ish, oan the night ae the twenty-fourth ae October, the same day that Lesley Bare wis murdered by that man ae hers, that new superintendent wan, Cleopatra, arrived oan the scene and asked tae see that wee nurse’s file ae whit’s her name?”
“Rose Bain?”
“Aye, Rose Bain’s file…the wan that’s been at the centre ae the stooshie involving Paddy McPhee and that wee Ned who wis released fae the jail?”
“R-i-g-h-t,” The Inspector sang slowly, still no hivving a bloody clue where the hell this stuttering diatribe wis gaun, bit scared tae intervene in case The Sarge clammed up.
“When Ah went and retrieved the file and Cleopatra opened it up in front ae me across at the desk there…” The Sarge said, wae a blind wave ae her haun towards the desk oan the other side ae the room. “Fur some inexplicable reason, it contained the contents ae the second ae the three Showgirls’ files, so it did. The same file that Lesley went in tae get the information oot ae oan the sixteenth and the same wan she withdrew oot tae read at this exact table that we’re noo sitting at oan Thursday, the twenty-third, the day ae the sanny lassies freebie session.”
“Bit, why the hell did ye no men…”
“Aye and before ye ask me tae repeat whit Ah’ve jist said, Cleopatra then sent me aff tae fetch The Showgirls’ number two file, which wis sitting there oan the shelf between the other two, where it should’ve been. When Ah brought it oot and Cleopatra and that butch inspector, the wan that’s upsetting everywan up in Possil, opened it…er, it wis full ae cut-up pieces ae newspapers, so it wis.”
“Whit?” The Inspector hauf yelped, jist aboot falling aff her chair. “Did you jist say it wis full ae newspaper cuttings?”
“Aw cut tae the same length and breadth ae typing paper.”
“Bit…”
“Aye, that wis her reaction tae.”
“So, whit happened next?”
“The pair ae them wur sitting across at that table o’er there,” The Sergeant said, nodding tae wan ae the tables in front ae the desk. “They wur sitting wae their backs tae me, so Ah couldnae really see everything that wis gaun oan. Mrs Butch, who’s name nowan kin pronounce or remember, then pulled a big broon envelope oot ae that bag ae hers. Two minutes later, wae the envelope back in her bag, she came across and instructed me tae put the two files, the wee nurse’s and The Showgirls’ wan, back oan tae the shelves where they originated fae.”
“And?”
“And that wis that. The aggressive cow then informed me ae whit wid become ae me if Ah breathed a single word tae anywan aboot whit Ah might’ve clocked,” Marybell replied, shuddering. “Cleopatra didnae even acknowledge ma presence, before the pair ae them swanned oot the door. The only explanation Mrs Chookter Bitch gied fur their presence wis that somebody hid obviously tampered wae the files under ma watch and that she’d jist rectified the situation, saving me a lot ae disciplinary grief.”
“Ah still don’t get the connection tae wummin selling sandwiches and cakes.”
“Ah take a lot ae pride in how this place is run, believe it no. There’s no way anywan could get a file past me or ma Fluffys oot that door,” The Sarge retorted, puffing her ootsize paps oot, her back defiantly straightening up in the chair, defying a challenge.
“Well, somewan clearly did.”
“That’s whit Ah’m saying. This place wis mobbed oan the twenty-third ae October. Aw the people in the room here hid booked oot files fae The Cove. Oan the day, Ah kin distinctly remember reminding everywan no tae leave their files lying aboot. The freebie cake session wis jist oan the other side ae they glass doors. People held oan tae their files while they grabbed themsels a cake. Ah’m convinced Lesley wis wan ae them.”
“So?”
“So, she could’ve swopped the file wae wan ae the sanny lassies. It wis that busy, nowan wid’ve noticed in the crush.”
Silence.
“Why the hell did ye no tell me aboot this when we interviewed ye or when Ah wis in looking at The Mankys’ file last week?” Wilma demanded tae know, feeling sick in the pit ae her stomach.
“Because…because…Ah don’t know. I didnae realise the significance…Ah still don’t, if Ah’m honest wae ye. It wis only when ye wur in last week that it made me think aboot how that bloody file could’ve walked oot that door withoot me being aware ae it. Ah take pride in ma work, so Ah dae,” The Fat Sergeant bleated, wiping the sweat fae her brow wae the back ae her haun, as Wilma leaned forward wae her elbows oan the table, swishing her fingers through her hair, trying tae comprehend whit the fuck she’d jist been telt.
“And the lassies…these sanny wummin? Ur they still operating in the building?”
“Naw.”
“Naw?”
“Wan day they wur here and the next?” The Sarge replied, clicking her fingers.
“Why?”
“Ah wis telt security wis being reviewed and tightened again because ae the threat fae the IRA.”
“Whit aboot in here? Did they ever sell their sannys in here?”
“Of course they didnae. This wis, and still is, a restricted area, so it is.”
“Names?”
“Er, Ah’m no sure. The boss wis called Sharon…Ah know that. Then there wis wan called Soiled Sally…”
“Soiled Sally? Ur you bloody hivving me oan?”
“Naw, something tae dae wae hinging her washing oot, apparently. Then there’s an Ann and Ah think, a big titted wan called Betty. There wis another wan, bit Ah cannae remember whit she wis called.”
“Wis this a company then?
“Er, Ah think so. Something aboot a Jeely Piece.”
“A Jeely Piece?”
“Er, aye.”
“Right, Marybell, Ah need ye tae perform an important task fur me…and Ah don’t want any lip oot ae ye while ye dae it,” Wilma growled, putting oan her maist threatening expression.
“Me?”
“Ah need ye tae go intae that cove o’er there…” Wilma said, pointing tae the shelved files. “And search The Showgirls’ files and Rose B
ain’s file as well.”
“Bit…”
“Ye’re looking fur letters…personal written wans, aw in individual envelopes, addressed tae a Susan McFarlane. Ah cannae remember her address jist noo, bit they’re aw fae wummin.”
“The Showgirls’ files ur full ae letters, threatening wans tae bosses in hospitals and factories. There’s some shoapkeepers wans as well. There’s hundreds ae them, so there is.”
“Ur you still here?” Wilma scowled at her.
“Bit…”
“They should aw be thegither. If ye find them, bring them oot and let me see them. We’ll put them back efter Ah hiv a wee gander ae them,” Wilma instructed her, her heart gaun like the clappers.
Wilma’s heid wis spinning. She wondered whit the significance wis wae whit she’d jist been telt. Why wid Cleopatra and that chookter inspector ae hers skulk aboot replacing the contents ae Rose Bain’s file? Central hid always denied that the file hid gone missing. They’d strenuously denied that anywan, other than personnel authorised tae access the contents, hid been near it. It wis noo obvious that it hid been blagged fae The Cove before being put back by Cleopatra and that chookter inspector fae Possil. The newspapers, particularly The Glesga Echo, hid gone ape-shit aboot the discovery that Paddy McPhee hid been involved in reviewing the evidence in Rose Bain’s murder file. Barbara Allen, the cooncillor fae up in Springburn, hid claimed that she’d been passed solid information, straight oot ae the file, that hid confirmed The Stalker’s involvement in reviewing whether the evidence hid been tampered wae since the original hit-and-run investigation the previous year. The fact that Paddy McPhee hid also been at the centre ae ‘The Polis Notebook’ scandal, where he’d written doon the statement fae an auld gangster the night he’d died up in Stobhill, implicating a whole host ae people involved in serious crimes, including murder, hid blown The Crown’s case against denying access tae Johnboy Taylor’s defence team oot ae the water. The auld gangster hid claimed that Taylor wisnae in the bank up in Maryhill when the two polismen hid been shot during the bank robbery. It hid also blown open The Crown’s denial that Rose Bain’s file hidnae been tampered wae by corrupt polis officers, seeing as the nurse, the doctor oan duty that night and some auld farmer hid been snuffed oot because ae whit the auld gangster hid telt The Stalker. The newspapers and The Showgirls, who’d seemingly provided them wae information oan the contents ae the wee nurses file, hid been a sensation. Christ! She could understaun Cleopatra’s reason fur trying tae keep the missing file under wraps. Pitt Street hid vehemently denied the leaked information oan Paddy McPhee being involved in reviewing the wee nurse’s file came fae there. How the hell hid Cleopatra managed tae get a file back efter it hid been blagged withoot anywan being charged? Who’d blagged it in the first place? It hid tae be The Showgirls, bit how hid it found its way back, via Cleopatra, and whit kind ae deal hid been struck?
“Ah’m sorry, bit Ah’ve been through the files twice. There’s nae mention ae any letters tae a Susan McFarlane in them,” Marybell announced fae the other side ae the wire, making Wilma jump in her seat.
“Ur ye sure?” she asked the sergeant, disappointed.
“Aye.”
“Right, well, ye better get back o’er here then,” Wilma said, her brain still minced.
“Er, whit dae Ah dae noo?” The Sarge asked weepily, plapping her arse doon opposite her.
“Whit?” Wilma asked, jumping, her thought process being suddenly hijacked.
“Ah said…”
“Aye, Ah heard ye the first time,” she replied, looking across at the distressed sergeant.
“Well?”
“Ur ye aware ae the seriousness ae whit ye’ve jist informed me, Sergeant Raminsky?” she asked coldly.
“Er…naw…aye.”
“This could’ve hid a significant bearing oan the charges brought against Teddy Bare, so it could’ve.”
“Bit he wis charged wae murder.”
“And, as you and everywan else knows, it looks like the basturt’s gonnae get aff oan a reduced charge, so he is.”
“Ah’m…sorry.”
“And so ye bloody well should be. Ah’ve goat a good mind tae throw the fucking book at you fur this. You hid a chance tae dae the right thing and ye didnae. Lesley Bare worked in this building…she wis yer bloody colleague and you let her doon, so ye did,” she snarled, wanting tae lean across and gie the stupid cow sitting opposite her a right good slap.
“Ah wis scared tae mention it…Ah wis telt no tae by…”
“Aw, shut the fuck up, Marybell. Look, Ah’m no sure if this is gonnae come oot in the wash. Ma advice tae you is tae keep that trap ae yers shut…at least, fur the time being. And Ah’m warning ye, under no circumstance hiv ye tae breathe a word ae whit ye’ve jist disclosed tae me, including tae that Cleopatra wan or that highland coo ae hers. Hiv ye goat that?”
“Er…aye, inspector.”
“It’s no me that ye’ll hiv tae worry aboot. If she finds oot whit ye’ve jist come oot wae, then ye kin kiss whit’s left ae that tawdry career ae yours goodbye…and that includes yer pension, so it dis,” she growled, picking up her bag fae the flair, before heidin fur the door tae try and catch up wae Pricilla Presley.
Chapter Thirty Eight
“So, how’re ye daeing, Bob?” Tony asked him, slipping oan tae the well-worn bench seat opposite the gangster in the visiting room, oan the other side ae the wee six-inch barrier shelf, that assisted the screws tae clock if anything wis being passed between the jailbirds and their visitors.
“How dae you think? Ah’m fucking scunnard wae the bloody hassle Ah hiv tae put up wae at ma age, despite being in the bloody nick,” the gangster growled.
“Aye, Ah wis sorry tae hear aboot The Goat…we aw wur.”
“Tony, don’t fucking sit there and hit me wae any ae yer lying forked-tongued dingers. It’s me ye’re talking tae, remember?” Wan-bob sniffed, turning and glancing at the other visitors in the adjoining glass-sided cubicles oan either side ae them.
Silence.
“So, whit hiv ye picked up then?”
“Me?”
“Look, is this how the visit’s gonnae be? Me sitting here hivving ma patience tried and tested every couple ae seconds, while you sit there oan yer greasy arse, trying tae work oot how ye’re gonnae try and take advantage ae ma situation?” Wan-bob scowled, exaggerating his hurt.
Silence.
“Well?” Wan-bob reminded him.
“It wis that young crowd.”
“Whit wis?”
“That took oot The Goat.”
Silence.
“How dae ye know that?” the gangster eventually asked.
“Because we‘ve spotted them oot and aboot in the toon and alang in Anderston this past wee while.”
“Ah thought Ah telt youse tae stay away fae the toon?”
“And we hiv. We’ve clocked them running aboot during the day. A couple ae them in a van, a few in cars, plus wan or two ae them skiting alang the pavements looking like they wur oan a mission, obviously daeing a bit business.”
“Names?”
“Ye won’t know them, bit they’re aw McGregor Clan, so they ur. The wans in the van that wasted The Goat ur Chic Campbell and a guy called Seb Grey.”
“How dae ye know that it wis them that took oot The Goat?”
“Believe you me, Bob, it wis them. The bizzies ur looking fur the same van plus me, Joe, Johnboy, Baby and Silent wur in Thistle Park Approved School wae a lot ae them back in the late 60s. Campbell’s a right mental case, so he is. We’ve also come across other wans we recognised oot in Longriggend and Polmont doon through the years. These ur the boys that ur running aboot doon the toon.”
Wan-bob looked at the Atalian. Patsy Green hid said that Davey Pine, wan ae the spotter taxi drivers, hid flagged him and The Goat doon as they heided alang Gordon Street jist before The Goat copped his whack. He’d telt them that he’d spotted a couple ae that young Govan crowd running aboot the toon in a tran
sit, although he didnae know their names.
“So, why hiv you left it until noo tae let me know? Why did ye no pass that info oan tae Danny or wan ae the other boys? It wid’ve saved me a lot ae hassle.”
Silence.
“Tony, ye’re no suggesting tae me that that wan-ermed fuck-pig basturt, Papa McGregor, isnae aware ae whit’s gaun oan, ur ye?”
“Naw, Ah’m jist letting ye know who we believe plugged The Goat. If youse don’t know, then the reason behind his shooting is gonnae be open tae aw sorts ae speculation, so it is,” Tony replied, shrugging, picking up the warning signals ae an explosion aboot tae erupt fae the mooth sitting opposite him in the form ae a wee tic appearing at the side the gangster’s right eye.
“So, start speculating then,” Wan-bob instructed him, back tae sounding relatively calm, even though the tic wis still flickering away threateningly at him.
“Well, if it wis that young team that we blagged that load ae hash aff ae, they might’ve thought that you or Charlie hid gied us the nod, so Ah suppose, at a stretch, that could be a connection,” Tony added, keeping his voice neutral.
“At a stretch?”
“Well, nowan his come efter us, so we dismissed that theory early oan.”
“Did ye noo?” Wan-bob murmured.
Wan-bob felt frustrated. Him and Charlie hid been struggling tae put pressure oan everywan oan their side ae the river no tae retaliate. It wis a tough call, especially wae them lying festering oan their arses in a cell across in C-Hall, despite good communication wae whit wis gaun oan oot there oan Freedom Street. It wid only take wan stupid basturt tae strike back, and the toon wid erupt. He knew the bizzies wid be expecting that, bit they basturts wurnae gonnae get that fae his boys…at least, no at this moment in time. Wance the trial wis o’er? Well, that wis a different story aw thegither. Fae where he wis sitting, he couldnae think ae anywan inside, or ootside ae the jail, who’d be able tae plug the gaps short-term, other than the handsome Atalian sitting opposite him. The only problem wis wae how much young Tony wis prepared tae divulge whit he awready knew and at whit cost tae him and Charlie? Oan the plus side, Gucci wid know fine well that The Mankys wurnae in a good position tae negotiate. The day efter The Goat hid been whacked, hauf the bears in the toon hid been aw ready tae wipe their manky arses aff ae the face ae the pavements up in Springburn. That wid’ve been a waste. The Mankys still hid their uses, despite Charlie hivving hid a go at him fur pulling the boys back.