Elvis The Sani Man

by Ian Todd

  “Filthy whore!” a voice rang oot o’er the sound ae the revving engine, followed by horrible laughter, as the taillights wur engulfed in the pea-souper fog.

  The lights wur oan, bit she couldnae hear any music, especially no any Elvis stuff. She’d never been a fan, bit she knew if she wanted tae talk tae Priscilla Presley, then this wid be the best place tae start wae, especially as Elvis and Priscilla hid insisted that she should come alang tae see him in action.

  “He’s brilliant, so he is,” hid been Priscilla’s parting shot.

  Collette hid only found oot that Elvis hid been in the building efter somewan hid mentioned that sergeants Shane Priestley and Dave McGovern, The Gruesome Twosome, hid brought in Streaky John McGinnis and charged him wae assaulting her and Elvis. Duggie Dougan hid taken her aff ae the liaison detachment wae Elvis oan the same day as she’d returned fae her suspension. When she’d complained tae The Gruesome Twosome that the arrest should’ve been made by her, Shane Priestly hid telt her tae ‘fuck aff’ in front ae everywan oot at the desk in reception. When she’d tried tae raise it wae the inspector, he hidnae telt her tae fuck aff in so many words, bit hid accused her ae glory-seeking tae try and justify that existence ae hers.

  “We’re aw the wan polis force, Collette. It disnae matter who makes the arrest, jist as long as the bad guys ur taken aff the streets. Shane and Dave hiv jist risked their lives tae arrest that psycho because you and that fake rock and roller couldnae cope wae that task. That’s fair enough. Nowan wid haud that against ye aboot here seeing as ye’re a wummin, bit don’t fucking start bleating aboot it because ye’re no the bloody arresting officer. It’s no aboot egos, it’s aboot maintaining law and order and protecting the public. Noo, if ye’ll excuse me, Ah’ve goat work tae dae,” he’d lectured her through that growling snarl ae his.

  That hid also been the day that she’d phoned up Jean Harris’s brother, Harper, the locksmith, tae come and replace her locks. Efter reflecting oan his accusations ae her being oan some sort ae ego trip, efter being excluded fae participating in the arrest ae Streaky John, she’d stupidly walked alang tae the inspector’s office tae propose a truce, tae try and see if she could somehow patch things up between them. When she’d knocked and opened his office door withoot being shouted in, she’d been confronted by the sight ae some wee floozy sitting oan Duggie Dougan’s lap, wae her erms wrapped roond his neck. Before they’d realised she wis there, the wee bitch hid pulled oot her da’s good solid-nine-carat-gold Dunhill lighter and proceeded tae gie the fag that wis sticking oot fae between his lips a light wae it, before slipping it back intae the breast pocket ae her shirt…which still hid her tie attached tae it, bit hid three ae the buttons oan the front unbuttoned, exposing her white brassiere. He’d jist aboot shat himsel when he clocked her staunin in the doorway. When he’d hurriedly stood up, the WPC hid landed oan the flair, exposing a semi hard-on, pushing oot the front ae they troosers ae his and she’d scurried aff, alang tae her first warrant sale ae the week. By the time she’d goat back, she’d been allocated her duties fur the week by the work assignment allocations clerk at the front desk. Her liaison role wae Elvis hid been removed. It hid taken her a day or two tae calm doon. She didnae blame the inspector’s new plaything. The wee WPC giggling unashamedly, bouncing up and doon oan Duggie Dougan’s lap in his office hid been her jist a few months earlier. At least the new WPC hid an excuse in that she’d jist turned twenty-wan and hid only been in the job five minutes. Every time she thought aboot whit people, other WPCs, must’ve thought aboot her and Bobby Mack doon in Central, she wanted tae throw up wae the shame. When she’d confronted the inspector in the corridor the next day, she’d demanded her da’s good Dunhill lighter back.

  “Ah’ve awready telt ye, Collette. Ah lost it ages ago. That wan WPC Hamilton his is her ain wan,” he’d unashamedly telt her.

  Every time she thought aboot whit she’d witnessed, she wanted tae smash that face ae his intae the back ae his heid. She’d avoided asking herself if it wis the fag lighter or him fooling aboot wae another female that hid upset her. She’d deliberately refused tae address that question, because she wis scared that her answer widnae be whit she wanted it tae be. Why the hell wur men so horrible? They’d been staunin the next day, close enough tae the reception fur people tae see whit wis gaun oan, bit no close enough that they’d hear whit wis being said. She reckoned that that’s whit hid saved him fae getting punched by her.

  “If Ah don’t hiv that lighter back in ma haun within a week, then Ah’m gonnae blow you and aw yer crooked, sexist pals tae kingdom come,” she’d threatened him.

  “Ach, Collette, hen, whit’s the matter, eh? Ah’ll soon get ye another wan, so Ah will. Crisscross, doon in Lost Property, his a bloody cabinet drawer full ae them, so he his,” he’d hit her wae, clearly no bloody-well getting it.

  “Ah don’t want another wan. Ah want that wan!” she’d hissed at him, brushing past the basturt towards the reception, efter pushing his erm aff ae the wall that he’d put there tae corral her in.

  “Collette, hen, don’t be like that,” she’d heard him whine at her back, as she disappeared through the front doors, snarling at the new owner ae her da’s good fag lighter, oan her way doon the wee set ae steps tae the dug-shit-covered pavement ootside the station.

  She hesitated at the lounge door. She thought she could hear angry shouting fae inside, although she quickly dismissed that, seeing as Priscilla hid telt her that it wis supposed tae be a Las Vegas fun night. When she did eventually manage tae push open the door against the crush ae bodies, hauf a dozen live Elvises spilled oot oan tae the wet, cracked pavement. Deciding no tae hing aboot tae see whit the score wis and ignoring the crunch ae wan ae her white-socked, sandaled feet staunin oan a pair ae Aviator sun glasses that aw the impersonators seemed tae be wearing, she managed tae squeeze hersel forward intae the body ae the bar. It wis hard tae make oot whit the hell wis gaun oan. She now knew whit it must be like being in the middle ae a bear pit. Some poor guy, wae his shirt collar hauf ripped aff ae his neck, wis up oan the wee stage across in the corner wae blood running oot ae wan ae his nostrils, ducking fae the missiles being thrown and trying tae reason wae people. His hair wis staunin oan end and it didnae look as if he wis daeing a very good job ae calming the situation doon. Aw aroond her, screaming Elvis impersonators wur hollering abuse at him while the wummin, maistly dressed in a similar fashion tae hersel, wur expertly flicking beer mats fae between their fingers like something oot ae that Odd Job James Bond film, the name ae which she couldnae remember. She heard her name being called, bit she wisnae sure fae whit part ae the lounge it wis coming fae. She jist aboot drapped doon deid when a few ae the nearest Elvises’ fat arses parted and there wis Lesley Bare, that best pal ae hers, sitting there, wearing a red polka dot skirt, wae a bosom-hugging white V-top that wis threatening tae get her arrested fur obscenity in a public place, topped aff wae a wee red neckerchief sticking oot fae the side ae that neck ae hers.

  “Collette, whit ur you daeing here? Oh ma God. Look at ye!” Lesley screeched, reaching oot and dragging her across tae the drink-laden table, where she wis sitting wae two other aulder pony-tailed wummin who at first glance, Collette hid mistaken fur being some ae The Broomielaw streetwalkers in fur a wee session before heidin back oot oan tae the streets.

  The racket wis too loud tae introduce her formally tae any ae the wummin, so they jist concentrated oan whit each other wis saying. Lesley hid been the last person that Collette hid wanted tae bump intae.

  “This is ma maw and mother-in-law,” she shouted.

  “Where’s Teddy?” Collette shouted back, smiling across at the two drunken crows beside her.

  “Ach, he’s up there trying tae get a piece ae flesh,” she shouted back laughing.

  “Whit’s happening?” she asked, spreading her hauns at the chaos in full flow roond aboot them.

  “It’s the tapes…they’re shite, so they ur.”

  “Tapes? Whit tapes?”
/>   “The tapes that everywan in here thought only they knew aboot. Teddy wis promised an exclusive and came doon tae dae a wee live stint up oan the stage there, using Elvis’s backing tapes. It seems every other Elvis in the toon’s hid the same exclusive offer and idea, so they hiv,” Lesley screeched, laughing like a wummin possessed. “Here, hiv wan ae these. It’s dark rum and pep. Ah’ll no drink aw mine and there’s no way Ah’m gaun near that bar. It took Teddy hauf an hour tae get served, it’s that busy.”

  Of course, she remembered, Elvis The Sani Man hid telt her that he’d an exclusive first shout oan Elvis’s studio tapes that he wis considering using at the ‘Elvis Is The Main Man Event’ across at The Plaza in September, which wis only a couple ae weeks away. She wondered where Priscilla wis and wisnae looking forward tae Lesley’s next question, which she hidnae long tae wait fur.

  “Right, so tell me, whit the hell ur ye daeing here? And aw dressed up as well?” Lesley hooted, lighting up a fag.

  “Er, Ah wis invited by Priscilla Presley, Elvis’s man,” she shouted as casually as she could.

  “Ye whit?” Lesley shrieked, exaggerating her disapproval.

  “Oh, Lesley, Ah know ye telt me tae stay well clear ae him, bit Ah wis assigned as a liaison officer wae him against the black meat traders, so Ah wis.”

  “And that false bitch ae a wife, Priscilla?”

  “Ah met her oot oan ma travels when Ah hid tae go up tae his hoose tae see if he wis awright efter he’d been assaulted,” she shouted lamely.

  “Oh, Collette, how could ye, efter me spelling oot whit that pair ur like?”

  “Ach, don’t be like that. You might no like her, bit Ah get oan fine wae her.”

  “Wur ye aware that, that wee poisoned dwarf is Teddy’s main rival in the competition, so he is?”

  “Rival, fur whit? Whit ur ye oan aboot, Lesley?” she shouted.

  “Fur the ‘Elvis Is The Main Man Event.’ Across at The Plaza.”

  “Oh, Lesley, it’s only a singing competition, so it is,” she replied dismissively.

  “Maybe tae you it is, bit no tae us. There’s a stoater ae a big American motorcar as the first prize and me and ma Teddy aim tae be the wans that drive aff intae the sunset in it,” Lesley pouted.

  It wis jist then that divine intervention reared its ugly mug in the shape ae Teddy Bare arriving oan the scene.

  “Right, Lesley, grab yer coat, hen. We’re aff. Ah’m no putting up wae this shite any longer. C’mone noo,” he growled, leaning across and lifting up his fake, silk gold-trimmed silver cape.

  “Look Teddy, it’s Collette. She’s come tae join us,” Lesley managed tae get in, bit that man ae hers wisnae hivving any it.

  “Hurry up noo. Ah’ll see youse across at the front door,” he snarled, shoving his way through the crowd.

  Collette wisnae sure if Teddy hid clocked her sitting there, despite Lesley pointing oot her presence. Efter her stint in hospital, he’d left a message up at the station fur her, saying that he’d come and take a statement fae her wance she’d settled back in tae work. That hid been ages ago noo, bit he still hidnae showed up at the station or arranged tae speak tae her tae see if she wis awright. He’d never been comfortable wae Lesley and her being so close.

  “Ah don’t want you hinging aboot wae a single wummin,” he’d stormed at Lesley wan night efter she’d telt him that she’d met up wae Collette at the Kings Café. When Lesley hid demanded tae know whit the problem wis, he’d bawled at her at the tap ae his voice.

  “Because she’s single and a well-known fucking slut, so she is. Hauf the inspectors in the toon ur hinging oot ae her, that’s why.”

  It hid taken Lesley a couple ae months tae tell Collette whit he’d said. She hidnae spoken tae Lesley fur aboot a month tae six weeks efter that. She knew the only reason that Lesley hid confessed tae her wis because she couldnae come up wae a good enough excuse no tae go oot fur a drink wae her and it hid jist become too embarrassing.

  “Look, Ah’m sorry, Collette, hen. Ah need tae go.”

  “Bit, Ah’ve only jist goat here, so Ah hiv,” she replied nervously, wondering if Elvis and Priscilla hid awready left the building.

  “Well, ye wurnae exactly here tae hiv a drink in oor company, noo, wur ye?” Lesley pouted, as that ma and mother-in-law ae hers staggered tae their feet and started putting oan their fox fur stoles, easing Collette’s paranoia that the awful smell ae moth balls hidnae been emanating aff ae her second-haun shoap ‘Happy Days’ clobber.

  “Ah’m no sure if they’re still here,” she replied lamely, looking aboot anxiously.

  “Ach, well, ye’re gonnae hiv tae choose yer friends a lot mair carefully in the future then, aren’t ye?” Lesley snapped, taking Teddy’s unexpected emergency exit plans oot oan her as the three wummin joined the snaking queue, heiding fur the exit. “Let’s catch up fur a fag and a cuppa at lunch time during the week at The King’s Café, eh?”

  “Bit Ah’m back tae work noo,” she shouted.

  “Ye’ll think ae something,” Lesley voice trailed back tae her fae o’er near the entrance, as another beer mat, picking up speed, whizzed past her heid towards the stage.

  “Is that them gone at last?” Priscilla Presley said tae her fae the wee table behind where she wis sitting.

  “Priscilla? Christ, tell me ye didnae hear that exchange between Lesley and me,” she cried oot.

  “Word fur word,” she replied, laughing. “C’mone, get yer bum o’er here and join me. Ah tried tae shout oan ye as ye wur squeezing through the crowd, bit it wis too noisy.”

  “Aye, it’s started tae thin oot noo, so it his,” Collette replied, staunin up and taking her rum and pep wae her.

  “Where’s Elvis?”

  “Ach, the stupid bugger felt the need tae try and act as some sort ae peace negotiator, bit ended up getting punched in the mooth by that man ae yer pal’s,” Priscilla replied drily.

  “Oh, Ah’m sorry, Priscilla. Ah really am.”

  “Whit ur you sorry fur? Christ, ye’ve met that man ae mine. He bloody-well cannae stoap interfering in other people’s problems, so he cannae,” Priscilla laughed, as the crowd ae Elvises and Priscillas in the lounge continued tae stream towards the exit.

  “Ah hear whit ye’re saying, Priscilla, bit Ah widnae be too hard oan him. Ah hivnae known him that long, bit whit Ah’ve seen ae him, his intentions ur honourable, so they ur. That’s a quality that’s in short supply these days…at least, it is in ma life.”

  “Ah’ll take that as a compliment then,” Priscilla said, as they baith laughed. “God, ye look fantastic, so ye dae. Right then, staun up and gie me a wee twirl.”

  “Oh, Ah’m no sure. Ah feel so self-conscious, so Ah dae,” she muttered.

  “Oh, hurry up, Collette. Ye don’t strike me as the shy type,” Priscilla retorted, as Collette goat up and gied her a wee twirl.

  “Get them oot then, hen,” an auld jakey bar-fly shouted across at her fae the bar, before him and his two pals let oot a series ae coughs and cackles between them.

  “Aye, it’s nice tae know ye’ve still goat it, eh?” she drawled tae Priscilla, as she sat doon and they baith burst intae giggles.

  “There ye go. There’s the man himsel. Ah wonder whit the hell he’s up tae. Ah’m jist surprised that we’re no following the rest ae Memphis oot ae the door,” Priscilla quipped, nodding at Elvis talking tae the guy up oan the stage, as the last Elvis, apart fae Priscilla’s man, shut the bar door behind him and disappeared oot in tae the night.

  It gied Collette time tae look aboot the lounge. It wis in a terrible state, décor-wise, she thought. The pint and nip glasses wur spotlessly gleaming and, apart fae the gang that hid jist left, there wis a steady flow ae talk and drinking gaun oan amongst whit she assumed wur the regulars. Across at a table near the door, she wisnae surprised tae see three wraith-like skinny wummin, sharing two glasses between them. They wur obviously the local streetwalkers, in hivving a wee refreshment break. Two ae them hid terrible slash
scars gouged across their cheeks, while the other wan looked like wan side ae her face wis frozen, as it sat in a permanent frozen grimace, while the other side did the talking. The three ae them looked tae be in their fifties and they wur aw sporting short mini skirts, black tights and white strappy sandals covering their feet. Priscilla hid nipped up and ordered hersel and Collette another drink. Collette noticed that she paid fur a drink each tae be sent across tae the three streetwalker wummin o’er by the door, who wur gazing intae the distance somewhere while passing a fag silently between each other.

  “That wis nice ae ye,” Collette acknowledged, efter Priscilla returned wae their drinks.

  “Ach, well, there bit fur the grace ae God, eh? Ah kin remember arresting two ae them fur prostitution way back in the sixties when Ah wis a young WPC like yersel. Ah must admit, Ah wis a bit shocked tae see that they wur still alive,” Priscilla admitted. “Cheers, Collette.”

  “Christ, is that…” Collette suddenly yelped, as a familiar scar-faced lassie suddenly bolted oot ae the lassies toilets and disappeared oot the front door.

  “Whit?” Priscilla asked, alarmed.

  “Oh, er, nothing. Ah thought Ah recognised somewan,” she replied, convinced that it hid been Jean fae Possil, who’d stood her up at the canal bridge up in Cadder.

  “Aye, there wid be mair than a few people aboot here that widnae want tae be recognised,” Priscilla agreed, taking a we sip ae her drink.

  “Priscilla, er, Ah wis wondering, wid it be possible fur us tae hiv a wee quiet chat sometime?”