Elvis The Sani Man

by Ian Todd

  “Ach, Ah don’t know, Duggie. This his been dragging oan fur far too long noo. They basturts hiv goat some team behind them since that Atalian prick and they mates ae his goat released oan parole late last year. How the fuck did they manage that, eh? Whit stupid basturt came up wae the idea that somewan like Tony Gucci might go straight? It’s unbelievable, so it is. Why the hell did Ah write doon that stupid basturt Haufwit Murray’s ramblings?” he cursed in tae his glass.

  “Paddy, Paddy, calm yersel doon. Don’t let the basturts grind ye doon. We’re aw in this thegither, so we ur.”

  “Ah’m telling ye, Duggie. Ah’ve goat a bad feeling aboot aw this, so Ah hiv. You mark ma words.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  “Collette, Collette, how’s yer neck, hen?” Lesley cried oot oan entering the Kings Café oan Elmbank Street, rushing across tae her.

  “Why don’t ye jist invite everywan tae join us, Lesley?” Collette drawled, as everywan roond aboot them turned their faces back tae their ice cream sundaes.

  “Let me see,” her pal demanded, pulling Collette’s turtleneck jumper away fae her neck. “Ach, ye kin hardly see a thing,” she said, satisfied, sitting doon in the booth opposite her and taking aff her jaicket, as she looked aboot at the clientele.

  “Ur ye undercover?”

  “Me? Naw. Ah’ve jist come straight fae Pitt Street, wan ae yer auld tartlet stomping grounds. Why?”

  “Nothing, Ah wis jist wondering.”

  “Right, whit the hell’s gaun oan, Collette?”

  “Ach…”

  “Don’t bloody well ‘Ach’ me, madam. That isnae the way tae grab people’s attention…no in a set-up like oors. Christ, Teddy never mentions his work…seeing as how bored shitless he is maist ae the time, bit he wis oan tae me in a flash, so he wis.”

  “Oh, and whit did ye say?”

  “Ah jist telt him that ye wur hivving a bad time ae the month and that ye couldnae cope anymair.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He jist seemed tae accept it, bit…”

  “Bit?”

  “Bit, he’ll be back if there’s any mair amateur dramatics, so he will.”

  “And whit if it wisnae amateur dramatics, Lesley?”

  “Oh, Collette, wid ye stoap getting involved wae they inspectors…they’re aw married, fur a start. Christ, ye must only be aboot twenty-seven noo.”

  “Ah’m twenty-four, ya cheeky cow, ye,” Collette retorted.

  They baith smiled at each other, before lifting their eyes up tae the waiter.

  “Ladies?”

  “Ah’ll hiv a chocolate wafer clamshell ice cream and a frothy milky coffee, son.”

  “Same fur me, please,” Collette said.

  “So, whit’s happening then?”

  “As in?”

  “As in, wid ye stoap fannying aboot. Whit’s the score wae you and that Duggie Dougan wan? Christ, Collette, Ah thought Bobby Mack wis a bad choice, bit Duggie Dougan? Hiv you goat some sort ae Hunchback ae Notre Dam complex or something?”

  “Notre Dam complex?”

  “Aye, in tae ugly auld men. Ah read aboot that somewhere, so Ah did.”

  “And whit aboot you and Teddy then?”

  “He’s only eleven years aulder than me.”

  “Aye, bit he’s an aulder inspector, the same as ma two.”

  “Naw, your wans ur real inspectors…mine his the uniform, bit sits oan his arse, hiring and firing people aw day. Don’t get them confused. While yours spend aw their time gallivanting, trying tae get in tae the knickers ae the young WPCs aroond aboot them, ma Teddy heids hame at five o’clock every night, especially oan a Tuesday, tae allow me oot tae the bingo.”

  “So, whit’s so different wae Teddy then?”

  “Ah’ve jist telt ye. He’s no like them. Wan night when he wis pished, the night he proposed, efter we’d only been dating a few weeks, he admitted that he’d been waiting fur somewan like me and that he couldnae believe his luck.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Teddy isnae like they other randy basturts, so he’s no. He likes his hame comforts. As long as he’s goat his Elvis records oan the turntable, Teddy Junior tucked up in bed and me tae cuddle up tae at night, he’s as happy as a greedy monkey wae a big bag ae peanuts, so he is.”

  “Ah still love him, Lesley,” Collette mumbled, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. “Ah know it’s stupid, bit it seems like the mair he treats me as a door mat, the mair Ah want him back.”

  “Collette, listen tae yersel, hen? Let this wan go…he’s a bloody psycho, if that Teddy ae mine’s tae be believed. Ye deserve better,” Lesley groaned, taking Collette’s hauns in hers.

  “Ah’m trying tae. He turns up at ma door…at night, like.”

  “Well, ignore the basturt…don’t let him in. Christ, nae wonder ye’re confused. We’ve goat tae get ye back oan tae the path tae righteousness, so we hiv.”

  “Righteousness? Ye make it sound as if Ah’m tae blame,” Collette growled.

  “Collette, a few ae us hiv done awright, bit the majority hivnae.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, while nabbing yersel an inspector is seen as some sort ae sport fur a lot ae the lassies coming in tae the force, only a few ae us ever make it tae the other side and end up marrying wan ae them.”

  “Christ, ye make it sound as if it’s us that’s daeing aw the chasing.”

  “Ye know fine well whit Ah mean. The problem is that, er, somewan like yersel kin end up creating a reputation fur yersel…and wance that happens, ye’ve nae chance ae getting yersel a braid…at least oan a permanent basis, that is,” Lesley informed her.

  “Aw, fur Christ sake, Lesley, Ah thought ye wur ma best pal?”

  “Look, Ah don’t mean it the way that it sounded, bit ye hiv tae be honest, Collette. The majority ae these guys ur jist efter the wan thing and wance they’ve been in there, ye never see them fur dust. The only thing that’s left is an unsavoury reputation based oan shite and innuendo.”

  “Here ye go, ladies,” The Waiter said, laying doon the Clamshell Wafers.

  “Ur ye saying Ah’ve goat a reputation…fur sleeping aroond?” Collette demanded, her face creased up in horror.

  “Naw, whit Ah’m saying is, ye’re starting tae get a reputation fur creating waves…and a willingness tae drap they knickers ae yers tae inspectors. In this job, dae ye really need tae ask whit that means?”

  “Whit dis it mean?”

  “Ach, Ah wis only speaking figuratively, so Ah wis,” Lesley replied, oan the defensive.

  “Naw, c’mone, Lesley, it wis you that brought it up, so it wis,” Collette challenged her, separating her wafer shell before skimming the ice-cream fae roond the gap and popping it in her gub.

  “They aw want ye, that’s whit it means,” Lesley replied, pointing her tall teaspoon at her mate, before scooping up a dod ae ice-cream, allowing her lips tae ease it aff gently.

  “Who wants who?”

  “You…some ae the inspectors,” Lesley said, smiling, a wee twinkle in her eye.

  “Whit ur ye oan aboot, Lesley, whit inspectors?”

  “Teddy telt me that a few ae them hiv asked fur a WPC…and you in particular.”

  “Me?”

  “That’s whit he said. He said that Frank Gillespie fae up in Cranhill specifically asked fur ye by name.”

  “Whit? Hiv ye met him…this Gillespie wan?”

  “As ugly as sin and teeth like a row ae condemned tenement buildings…and then there’s Alfie Johnston, fae oot in Carnwadric…”

  “Carnwadric, where the hell’s Carnwadric?”

  “Thornliebank. Across the river oan the south side…where the money is.”

  “And these braids asked fur me tae be transferred tae their patches?”

  “Teddy said that Dougie Dougan mentioned that wan ae his WPCs wis looking fur a move and Frank Gillespie said he’d take ye.”

  “And this Johnston wan?”

  “It wi
s him that goat in touch wae Teddy first. Said that he’d heard ye wurnae happy tae move oot tae Yoker, bit he wis willing tae gie ye a shot in Carnwadric…and he’s single, this wan, tae,” Lesley reminded her.

  “The way ye’re speaking, it sounds as if they’re aw lining up, so it dis,” Collette said, no sure whether tae be flattered or alarmed.

  “Aye, well, there wis another. Ah wisnae gonnae say, bit as long as ye keep it tae yersel.”

  “Who?”

  “Yer auld boss’s brother.”

  “Whit, Duggie Dougan his a brother in the force?”

  “Naw, ya eejit ye. Sally Burke…yer auld sarge fae doon in Central. Her brother, Willie, is wan ae the sergeants across in Penilee…and, wait fur it…still single and in his late thirties, early forties, so he is.”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Lesley. Ye make me sound like some man-eating shark, so ye dae.”

  “Teddy said that Willie remembers ye fae when ye worked under his sister. Ah don’t know if Teddy’s only making this up, bit he also telt me that Willie said that he hid the hots fur ye, so he did. Mind you, that wis a wee while back noo.”

  “Bloody hell!”

  “See? There’s life efter a failed suicide attempt, so there is,” Lesley chided her, smiling, as the waiter arrived wae their coffee and took away their plates.

  “Listen, Ah need ye tae dae me a favour?”

  “Ah’ve beaten ye tae it,” Lesley laughed, opening her purse and taking oot a wee bit ae paper, before sliding it across the Formica-topped table.

  “Whit’s this?” Collette asked, looking at the numbers and back across at her pal.

  “Willie Burke’s hame number.”

  “Aw, Lesley, ye’ve goat tae be kidding me,” Collette groaned.

  “Whit?”

  “Did Teddy put you up tae this?” she demanded.

  “Of course he didnae,“ her best pal lied.

  “Look, Ah need ye tae dae me a favour.”

  “Whit?”

  “Ah’ve met a nurse.”

  “A nurse? Collette that’s great, so it is. See, ye’ve started tae expand yer horizons, so ye hiv.”

  “Aye, she’s really nice…and friendly. That’s the problem.”

  “Kin ye see how low ye’ve let yersel become, Collette? Somewan’s nice tae ye and ye think they’re oot tae get something fae ye. That’s pure dead paranoia, so it is.”

  “Naw, Ah think she might be connected in some way.”

  “Connected…as in, connected, connected?”

  “Aye, Ah think so.”

  “Well, ye better explain then. Ah’m no a mind reader…yet,” Lesley said, as they baith chuckled.

  Collette went oan tae explain how she came tae end up in a French wine bar wae Senga Jackson when Tony Gucci and his girlfriend arrived oan the scene unannounced.

  “Is that it?” Lesley asked when she’d finished.

  “Aye.”

  “Collette, aw these tickets stoap and talk tae people in restaurants, so they dae. It’s aw part ae the public preening, so it is.”

  “Naw, bit she really knew him…he went tae school wae her seemingly, when they wur snappers.”

  “Aye, bit he wis wae that Chinky girlfriend ae his, isn’t that right?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, there ye go then.”

  “There ye go, whit?”

  “There ye go, he wisnae trying tae take advantage.”

  “Lesley, Ah never said he wis trying tae take advantage. Aw Ah wis asking is if ye kin check her oot? Her name’s Senga Jackson and she works up in the casualty department at The Royal. Lives oan Barrington Avenue. It shouldnae be too hard fur ye tae dae that.”

  “Spying oan people who jist want tae be friendly tae ye? Christ, nae wonder ye’ve nae pals, Collette.”

  “Ah could tell that Gucci knew that Ah wis a poliswummin as soon as he clapped they dark come-tae-bed-eyes oan me.”

  “Aye, well, Ah’d watch oot fur the romantic aspect ae they eyes ae his. If ye only knew even a fraction ae whit him and his pals ur supposed tae hiv goatten up tae. Mind you, The Mankys hiv been quiet since Gucci wis released wae a few ae the others at the tail end ae last year. Ah’ve heard some people say that efter tasting a bit ae porridge, him and they mates ae his hiv gied up crime and ur trying tae go straight, so they ur.”

  “Is that whit you believe?”

  “Me? Ach, Ah’ve mair chance ae becoming an inspector than Tony Gucci gaun straight. And ye said that Baby Huey wis in tow?”

  “Aye. He sat near the front door while John and Yoko went fur a bite tae eat.”

  “Why wid ye need a bodyguard, if everything ye wur up tae wis above board? Teddy thinks that it’s him that’s behind that bunch ae hairys that ur trying tae get that young cop-shooter released, so he dis. Anyway, Ah’ll check her oot fur ye.”

  “Aye, bit phone me if there is anything, will ye?”

  “Don’t you worry, hen. Noo then, whit’s yer thoughts aboot this Willie Burke wan then?”

  “Did he no get investigated a few years back, alang wae that sister ae his, o’er some young WPC getting assaulted across in the social club in the Gorbals?”

  “They wur part ae the investigation, bit wur cleared ae any inappropriate conduct. Christ, you should know whit it’s like, Collette. Wance somewan mentions a name, ye’re guilty until proved otherwise whether ye wur involved or no.”

  “Aye, Ah suppose…”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “Whit dae ye think?” Elvis asked her, staunin back oan the pavement, looking up at the recently opened Indian restaurant.

  “Aboot whit?”

  “Yer favourite restaurant?”

  “Ah telt ye, Ah don’t venture oot that much, other than tae the local chippy. Ah cannae afford it wae the wages Ah’m oan.”

  “Bit, if ye did go oot. This wid be the place?”

  “Er, aye.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, Ah’ve only been in the wance and the food wis excellent. The price wisnae bad either, so it’s wisnae.”

  “Whit else?” he asked her, getting his clipboard ready.

  “Everything looked brand knew, so it did.”

  “Brand new?”

  “As in clean, neat and tidy.”

  “Right, let’s go,” he said, heiding fur the door.

  “Bit they might recognise me,” she objected.

  “So whit? This is aboot protecting the public…you’re the public,” he replied, haudin the door open fur her.

  “I’m so sorry, lady and gentleman, but we won’t have a table for another hour. Come back in an hour, please,” the guy who Collette recognised as the heid waiter said, a puzzled frown appearing oan his foreheid efter The Sani Man flashed his ID badge at him.

  “Ah, Health and Safety?” he murmured.

  “Aye. And you ur?”

  “Mr Bairaj Sing, the proprietor, sir.”

  “We’d like tae hiv a wee look aboot, if ye don’t mind,” The Sani Man informed him, brushing past the owner. “Through here?” he asked, turning.

  “Please,” Mr Sing agreed, rushing forward, haudin open the batwing doors ae the kitchen fur them tae pass through.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, apologetically, oan the way past, surprised that The Sani Man awready hid his heid in a big fridge.

  “I think you’ll find everything in order, sir. Our chefs are all very professional,” Mr Sing assured him. “Can I get you or the lady refreshment?”

  “Naw, we’re fine jist noo, Mr…Mr Sing,” The Sani Man replied, glancing doon at his sheet before leaning forward tae see behind another big free-standing fridge, before kneeling doon and hivving a look under it.

  Collette hid only been in the chip shoap up in Springburn and it hid been tiny compared tae whit wis gaun oan in front ae her eyes, so she wisnae sure whit he wis looking fur. While the three chefs wur beavering away, cooking whit she assumed tae be the main meals as the waiters came and went, The Sani Man, wis crawling aw o’er the kitche
n. Oan the far wall, in front ae the barred back windaes, two wee guys wur washing mountains ae stainless steel utensils and trays, while in another sink, another wee guy wis washing plates and cutlery before lowering them in racks intae a stainless steel sink, full ae boiling water. The amazing smells wafting aw o’er the place, reminded her that she hidnae eaten yet. She stood, her mouth watering, watching the meals being cooked and prepared. Although everything wis happening so fast, she recognised a couple ae Chicken Biryanis, a vegetarian dish ae Palak Paneer and a Butter Chicken. The rest, she could only guess at, although she could’ve sworn that two ae the meals wur Vindaloos. Efter aboot twenty minutes, The Sani Man seemed tae be satisfied. He stood in the middle ae the kitchen, as a wee skinny guy scooped five naan breids oot ae the oven.

  “Very impressive, so it is,” he announced tae Mr Sing, whose face instantly broke in tae a big smile.

  He then spoke tae the three busy chefs, who she supposed wur Sikhs due tae turbans hivving replaced the usual chefs white hats, and whose faces aw also broke in tae big smiles, turning and clasping their hauns and nodding respectfully towards The Sani Man.

  “See?” she accused him.

  “Naw, Ah mean it…absolutely superb,” he said tae Mr Sing, before adding. “Bit…” throwing no only Mr Sing and the three chefs aff, bit Collette, tae.

  “Pardon?” Mr Sing gulped at the same time as The WPC said, ”Whit?”

  “That,” he replied, pointing o’er tae the sink.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Mr Sing asked, still no sure whit the problem wis, as the three chefs stoapped whit they wur preparing and also stared, mystified, gieing each other wee glances.

  “Is it only me?” The Sani Man sighed, walking across tae the stack ae washed, steel cooking dishes and trays, before turning. “Well?”

  “Oh ma God, Ah’ve jist clocked them,” The WPC exclaimed, haudin her hauns up tae her mooth, trying no tae burst oot laughing, as the poor wee tray-washer, soap suds up tae his elbows, jist stood there, horrified at the attention he wis getting.