by Ian Todd
“Bit, Ah thought she fell backwards against the tiled fireplace and cracked her skull open?”
“She did, sir. Inspector Thain believed that Bare wis jist the icing oan the cake and that there wur others involved.
“Perpetrators or victims?”
“Baith.”
Silence.
“Hiv we investigated the allegations further?”
“According tae this ex-poliswummin, there wis a batch ae other signed statements.”
“And where ur they noo?”
“We don’t know, sir. The last person who seemingly hid them in her possession wis a young WPC.”
“And?”
“And, well, she is now incapacitated…ill…in a mental hospital,” Cleopatra interjected.
“Bit, the allegations will be investigated, Murdina?”
“Yes, sir. We’re waiting for Officer…now Sergeant…James, to make a full recovery. Unfortunately, this may take some time due to her health. We’ll have to be sensitive.”
“Well, don’t leave this lying aboot noo. These things hiv a habit ae coming back and biting us oan oor arses. That reporter, whoever she is, his jist landed us aw in the shite and distracted us away fae why we’re sitting here. Ye’ve done a sterling job up there in the north, as well as dampening doon the negative onslaught fae the press oan the city’s polis service, Murdina. We widnae want aw yer good work tae end up doon the drain because ae being side-tracked by something like this. Don’t get me wrang, if a crime’s been committed, it should be dealt wae in a professional matter, bit being outed by wan ae oor ain, even if she is an ex-copper, isnae exactly playing the white man, is it? If only we could jist make a dent in they wee Neds roaming aboot the streets, assaulting and upsetting everywan, we’d maybe get a fair crack ae the whip fur a change.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right, anything good aboot getting oot ae ma bed this morning?”
“A clearer picture is emerging ae the situation regarding the black butchers and Duggie Dougan, the main suspects in his murder,” Sam Bison, Heid ae Serious Crime and Intelligence said, swishing the smoke away wae his haun, as he stubbed oot his fag in the ashtray. “It’s whit we’ve always believed. Duggie Dougan wis putting the squeeze oan Black Pat McVeigh tae increase the regular backhanders he’d been getting o’er a number ae years. McVeigh and his boys retaliated. They must’ve been tailing Inspector Dougan’s movements fur some time, as we still hivnae established the reason why he wis up oan that stairheid landing, other than tae try and placate the disturbed wee poliswummin he’d been hivving an affair wae, WPC… er, Sergeant James. We aw know he ended the affair back in June and that the sergeant wisnae happy aboot it. She’d tried tae commit suicide efter he decided tae transfer her oot tae Yoker. Nowan at the station knew he wis heiding roond tae Lawrence Street that efternoon. He’d telt the desk sergeant that he wis aff tae see a brief, which could mean she wis trying tae blackmail him. Anyhow, he wis obviously tailed and shot jist ootside her landing door by the killers. McVeigh wid’ve known fine well, that there wid’ve been a negative backlash fae their cronies in the underworld. Him, Streaky John, Willie Commotion and John The Haun went tae ground. Despite Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie being in Murdina’s custody, we believe they ordered them tae be wiped oot, knowing how hard the backlash wid be fae us. We know that Broon and Hastie ur still controlling whit’s happening oan the streets here in the toon and the north ae the city. Unfortunately, McVeigh’s poor wee wife goat hersel caught up in the unfolding, deadly drama.”
“If ye run wae the foxes…” Mackerel muttered, leaning o’er and picking up his fag packet.
“We hiv a fair idea who the shooters ur, as the word oan the street points in the direction ae Broon and Hastie’s killers. We’re still actively pursuing those who we suspect let loose oan Duggie Dougan’s back across in Lawrence Street. Bob’s boys in the murder squad ur confident they’ll break the case soon.”
“And Honest John McCaffrey?”
“It looks like newly-promoted Inspector Thain has solved that one, sir,” Murdina replied, getting in there quick before Mackerel took the credit.
“Arrests?”
“Ah received a telephone call jist before Ah arrived, sir. Inspector Thain’s pursuing that avenue as we speak. An arrest warrant will be issued sometime later. She obtained signed statements fae two unimpeachable witnesses,” Chief Superintendent Mackerel said, snatching back the glory. “Of course, it’ll involve them being allowed tae turn Queen’s Evidence, bit we kin expect an arrest before the end ae the day’s oot.”
“And Moffat?”
“The Goat? Ah decided that that investigation should come under the umbrella ae Duggie’s and the black butcher enquiries. It’s early days.”
“And where ur The McGregors in aw this?”
“Despite how alarming it appeared at the start ae the investigations, we believe the cause and the eftermath wis contained tae the north,” Bison replied confidently. “Despite utilising aw oor street contacts oan baith sides ae the river, there’s no even been a whisper that The McGregors hiv been messing aboot oan this side ae the Clyde. If they hid been, we wid’ve picked it up by noo. The intelligence his been pouring in and coupled wae forensics and good investigative detective work, there’s nothing tae suggest it isnae who we’ve awready been focusing oan.”
“And the heroin being sold in some ae the pubs doon in Jamaica Street?”
“Although there’s connections tae Victor Ruth, the consensus is that they wur operating behind The McGregors’ backs. The two that wur arrested ur well-known junkies. We aw know how desperate these basturts become in order tae keep up wae their junky habits.”
“Excellent. As fur the article in this morning’s Glesga Echo? We’ll jist need tae ride this wan oot. It’s Christmas. Everywan knows nowan reads the papers at this time ae the year. They’re too busy wae mair important things in their lives. So, where ur we wae the rest ae the agenda? Hiv we established whether it wis McPhee or McGovern that silenced our star witness, Murdina?” The Assistant Chief Constable asked.
Jean looked across at the clock oan the mantelpiece as she shifted in her seat. She wis big noo. She knew when he wis awake because he wis a kicker. Her Ma hid telt her that she’d been the same. The Medium wummin hid said the baby wis a boy. When she’d telt Peter, he’d jist scoffed dismissively, bit she could tell he wis chuffed. Whitever the sex ae the wean wis irrelevant, jist so long as it wis healthy. Hivving a wee boy wid jist be the icing oan the cake though. Five past ten. She wondered whit wis keeping him. He said he’d be back before ten, as Queen wis playing live oan The Auld Grey Whistle Test fae the Hammersmith Odeon in London. He’d been driving her mad, playing Bohemian Rhapsody aff ae ‘A Night At The Opera’ fur the past fortnight. It wis the only song oan the album he liked. At least he’d played aw the tracks oan their first LP, ‘Sheer Heart Attack,’ when it hid come oot. She’d been raking through the cupboards in the kitchen and the drawers oan her side ae the bed. She wis desperate fur her fix. She’d never been intae sweeties, especially chocolate, until she fell pregnant. Noo, she couldnae get enough ae Cadbury’s fudge bars. The wan and only time he’d arrived hame withoot any hid been ten minutes earlier. She’d sent him straight back oot, no even allowing him tae take aff his jaicket, doon tae Sherbet’s tae get her some. If he wisnae back by quarter past, tough. ‘Six Million Dollar Man’ wis starting then. She looked at the clock. Ten past ten. She’d warned him.
“That must be some set ae brakes oan that kid-oan sports car ae yours, Peter,” Sherbet laughed, efter being startled when the car skidded tae a halt ootside the front door ae the shoap.
“Aye, aye, Sherbet, Merry Christmas tae you tae. Hauf a dozen Cadbury’s fudge bars and hurry up. Queen is oan the box at ten.”
“The night? Is she no a bit early this year?” Sherbet asked, smiling, as Peter withdrew a bottle ae Irn Bru fae the ginger rack.
“How much?”
“The same as last night and th
e night before that. Wan ten.”
“Here ye go, keep the change. Don’t spend it aw in the wan shoap. Bye, Maisa,” Peter shouted, slapping three fifty pence bits doon oan tae the coonter and calling through tae the back-shoap, before heiding fur the door, as Sherbet turned and dinged the till.
It wis the sound ae the ginger bottle smashing oan the pavement ootside that first alerted him that something wis happening, followed a fraction ae a second later by the shout.
“Take that ya cunt, ye!” Seb Grey cursed, plunging the big butcher’s knife intae Peter’s abdomen, bursting open his aorta, instantly collapsing his circulatory system, as he drapped like a sack ae shite doon oan tae the wet pavement, being helped oan his way by Chic Campbell, who wis following through, swinging a claw hammer in a wide arc, oan tae the side ae Peter’s skull.
“Maisa! Phone the polis. Quick!” Sherbet shouted, dashing roond the coonter, grabbing the baton he kept oan the wee shelf under it, oan route.
By the time he reached Peter, the sound ae car wheels screeching oan the wet tar, as it shot aff, momentarily drooned oot the screams ae a wummin who hid buried her heid intae the shoulder ae her man, as another couple fae across the road, hurried o’er tae where the attack hid jist taken place.
“Peter, son…Peter! Look at me…Maisa! Maisa? Phone an ambulance…quick,” Sherbet screamed, as Peter Paterson tried tae say something tae him, while attempting tae get up aff the ground. “No, Peter, stay where ye are, son,” Sherbet said as gently as he could under the circumstances, bursting oot greeting, as he wrenched aff his broon coat, before quickly folding it up and gently placing it under Peter’s heid. “There is no God except Allah, peace be upon him…” Sherbet recited o’er and o’er again, staring transfixed, at the wet, shiny, black blood reflecting aff the palms ae his hauns fae the light in the shoap windae.
Sherbet never heard Peter Paterson’s throat suddenly gurgle or the sound ae him attempting tae take wan last breath oan the wet pavement that night. He’d turned at the sound ae Inspector Wilma Thain and Detective Sergeant Jean Moffat’s feet, efter they’d sprang oot ae the screeching undercover squad car.
“Wid somewan turn that music aff,” The Inspector asked calmly, looking up at wan ae the onlookers, as she knelt doon and started desperately pumping Peter’s chest tae try and revive him, tae the sound ae Toots and The Maytals ‘54 – 46 Wis Ma Number’ blasting oot ae the speaker oan the door carb ae Peter’s car.
Sherbet telt the two poliswummin later that he thought their car hid been the killers coming back tae finish aff whit they’d awready started. In turn, they’d telt him that they’d been oan their way tae Montague Street wae a warrant tae arrest Peter Paterson oan suspicion ae murdering Honest John McCaffrey back in October, and that he shouldnae feel too sorry fur the victim.
“Ye live by the sword, ye die by the sword,” DS Moffat hid said tae him, trying, bit failing, tae make him feel better, as the inspector paced up and doon, cursing tae hersel under her breath.
Senga stood at the bus stoap oan Castle Street shivering, efter jist finishing her shift. Her ears wur being held captive, listening tae the excited chatter ae the other nurses beside her, telling each other whit presents they’d bought and whit they wur hoping tae get fae Santa themsels. She swithered as tae whit she should dae. Her ma and da wur expecting her. She’d drapped aff a bag ae clothes and presents earlier in the morning. She hid a strong urge tae nip roond tae Cathedral Street and grab a number sixteen, that wid take her across the toon centre tae the flat…his flat. The pain and hurt hidnae eased since she’d sussed oot whit hid been gaun oan between him and Pearl. She hidnae seen the lassies in a while due tae her shifts and the few she hid bumped intae hidnae mentioned Johnboy. Only Lizzie and Kim Sui knew whit the situation wis. Kim Sui wisnae convinced that Johnboy wid’ve cheated oan her wae Pearl. Lizzie hid him doon as guilty as sin.
“Jist remember, he’s goat a track record in that department, so he his,” Lizzie hid kept reminding her. “Nae wonder he didnae want tae move in wae us.”
“Why don’t you go around and see him?” Kim Sui hid encouraged her.
When that hidnae worked, Kim Sui hid asked her if she wanted her tae raise it wae Tony.
“No!” she’d shouted, too quickly and too loud, feeling embarrassed at Kim Sui’s shocked and hurt expression.
She didnae want tae say tae Kim Sui that Tony wid’ve been fair pleased wae the turn ae events. Senga knew that Pearl hid been trying tae get in touch wae her. Lizzie hid been picking up the phone at hame. When she wis oan her lonesome, she jist ignored answering it. Geraldine hid also telt her that Pearl hid asked her tae pass oan that she wanted a word wae her. That wis before they’d shifted Geraldine oan tae the early shift, so that hid sorted itsel oot. Other than that, there hid been nothing.
“That’s us, Senga, hen,” wan ae the lassies shouted, breaking through her misery, as they crowded oan tae the platform ae the thirty-seven, as the heavens opened and she ran the few steps and jumped oan, jist as the doors shut o’er behind her.
Baby Huey stepped back aff the pavement and looked up, blinking, as the rain stabbed they eyes ae his. The lights wur oan. He jabbed his finger oan the button and kept it there, listening fur the mechanism tae click as the door wis unlocked. Nothing.
“Fucking pricks,” he growled, pressing the bottom flat button.
Nothing.
He stepped backwards oot oan tae the pavement again, looking up as he went, before stepping forward and pressing the tap right haun button, the wan whose light wis oan.
“Hello?”
“Aye, sorry, hen. Ah’m trying tae get in the bottom door. Kin ye let me in,” he asked, as the buzzer sounded and the door clicked open. “Ta.”
He could hear Brian May gieing it big shit oan the guitar as he ascended the stairs, conscious ae his loud, sodden-wet feet clumping up them, wan at a time, tae the beat. Efter thumping oan the door and getting nae response, he tried the handle. The sound ae Queen blasted alang the lobby, as he slammed the door shut wae a bang, smiling grimly tae himsel, the noise ae the music disappearing instantly.
“Ur youse fucking deaf or whit? Ah’ve been trying tae get in fur the past twenty minutes, so Ah hiv.”
“Ach, stoap exaggerating, Baby, ya fat fucking hippo, ye,” Ben McCalumn snorted, as Tony and Johnboy laughed.
“Right, listen up. Ah’ve goat bad news. Snappy’s jist been whipped up tae The Royal in the back ae an ambulance efter getting blasted wae baith barrels ae a sawn-aff shotgun in the face.”
Chapter Fifty Four
Christmas Day 1975
“Well, whit dae ye think then?” Charlie asked, looking up fae the sheaf ae papers in wan haun and crumpled-up Christmas wrapping paper in the other.
“Whit dae Ah think? Ah think some basturt’s goat a sick sense ae humour, that’s whit Ah think,” Wan-bob replied, as they baith chuckled. “Whit, did you no get a wee greeting card wae yours, saying who it’s fae?” he asked dryly, causing another flurry ae chuckles tae bounce aff the clean cell walls.
“And here’s me thinking it wis a colouring book,” Charlie said, shaking his heid, flicking through the pages, looking fur the best bits in his High Court indictment.
“Ye know, it seems tae me that there’s only two things that hiv changed since we wur first charged, oot in that wee poxy country polis station, efter the stupid basturts gied us the impression that they might’ve hid some incriminating evidence against us.”
“Aye?”
“Aye. The first thing is that whitever that stupid Avenging Dark Angel bitch might’ve been hiding in that wee black shoulder bag ae hers, it’s noo been rinsed doon a plughole alang wae that star witness ae hers. And Ah’ll tell ye another thing, she’s in fur the fucking shock ae her life when we get oot ae this dump. Ah’ll show her whit it’s like tae cross somewan like me. She’ll wish she never set foot oot ae the Highlands, the mad cow.”
“And the second?”
“And secondly, they’ve final
ly supplied us wae the date ae oor appearance up at The High Court. We couldnae hiv wished fur a better Christmas present than this,” Wan-bob said, haudin up and waving the flopping indictment at his cell mate. “They probably thought they wur noising us up, wrapping these up in Christmas paper and gieing them tae us oan Christmas day. The last laugh is oan us. We’ll need tae ratchet up a gear…Ah mean, we widnae want them tae think they’ve goat us worried noo, wid we?”
“Friday the thirteenth ae February, in the South Court. Tam Shift wis right, they ur daeing a second sitting ae The High Court here in the toon and in Edinburgh. Fifty-four days tae go. That wis the number ae encyclopaedias that Slick Eddie Skid managed tae convince that thick, retired polis inspector tae buy, back in the mid-sixties, remember? Took the stupid basturt tae the cleaners, so he did. Aye, they don’t make them like Slick Eddie Skid nooadays,” Charlie sighed, chuckling.
“Roll oan Friday the thirteenth, that’s aw Ah kin say. And that poxy new procurator fiscal, Carcrash Wilson, better no lose his bottle. That basturt his cost us a bloody fortune,” Wan-bob growled, tossing his thick indictment oan tae the chair sitting nestling between their beds, as he lay back oan the mattress, plumping up his good feather pillow, supplied by Jake McAlpine and opening his place in The Atalian job. “Eat yer heart oot, Mr Bridger,” he growled, smiling tae himsel.
“Oh Ma God! Hettie? Hettie? Get that fat arse oot here,” SO Marshall shouted fae his garage. “Hettie!”
“Wid you stoap bloody shouting. It’s Christmas day. The neighbours will think ye’re battering me again,” Hettie growled, coming towards him alang the path, wiping her hauns oan her pinny as she went. “Whit?”
“Look, hen. The Morgan…ma baby…it’s back,” he beamed in wonder, stroking the shiny front grill.
“Bit…”
“Ah telt ye Ah’d get it back, be ye widnae listen,” he accused her triumphantly.