by Ian Todd
“Right, then,” the assistant chief constable said, coughing, haudin up the sheaf ae papers in his haun as he adjusted his glasses oan that slippery, sweaty nose ae his.
It wis obvious tae everywan that it hid been a while since he’d stood daeing whit he wis noo daeing.
“Robert ‘One-bob’ Brown, you are being charged, along with others, of conspiring to plan, cause and thereafter murder twenty-year-old Rose Bain, a nurse, of 21 Woodville Street, Ibrox, on the night of Thursday the 6th of June 1974, as she left her place of employment at Stobhill General Hospital in Springburn, Glasgow. You will appear, along with others, before a special sitting of Glasgow Sheriff Court on Saturday, the 25th of October 1975. In the meantime, you, along with others, will be kept in police custody until you are transferred from here to the courthouse tomorrow morning. Have you anything you wish to say to the charges put before you?”
Silence.
6.10 PM
“I think we’re losing him, John. I’ll need a hand here,” James Robertson, the Dumfries paramedic in the back ae the ambulance shouted, as it raced past Glesga Zoo oan the busy M74.
“There’s nowhere to park at this time of the evening. We’ll end up causing an accident. We’ll have to keep going, James,” The Driver shouted back o’er his shoulder.
“He’ll no make it, if we don’t stop,” the paramedic shouted back before turning tae the patient. “Come on, son, you can do it. Hang in there.”
“Alpha Blue One, this is Delta Four Two. Come in, please. Over.”
Silence.
“Alpha Blue One, this is…”
“This is Alpha Blue One. Reading you loud and clear, Delta Four Two. Over,” a crackly voice exploded o’er the radio.
“Alpha Blue One, this is Delta Four Two requesting an escort or assistance into the city. The patient is arresting and requires immediate intervention. Over.”
“Delta Four Two, please state your current location. Over.”
“Alpha Blue One, we have just passed Glasgow Zoo. Repeat, we have just past Glasgow Zoo. Over.”
Silence.
“Come on, come on,” The Driver urged the radio, as a long tail ae slow moving cars up aheid suddenly came intae view.
“Delta Four Two, two police patrol vehicles will escort you into the city. Repeat, two police patrol cars will escort you into the city. The first one will pick you up straight ahead at the Baillieston slip road that leads on to the A74. Repeat, straight ahead. Follow signs for A74. Repeat, follow signs for A74. City police have requested that you switch on lights and warning bells as you enter the city. A blue team of specialists are awaiting your arrival at Alpha Blue One. Repeat, specialists awaiting your arrival at Alpha Blue One. Over.”
“Thank you, Alpha Blue One. Lights and bells already on. Repeat, bells and lights on go. Delta Four Two, Over and Out.”
7.30 PM
“Collette, listen tae me, hen. It’s nae good. That Graham Portoy wan isnae coming…nowan is. Ye’d be as well tae spill the beans jist noo and let us aw go fur something tae eat,” Sally Burke scowled at her.
Silence.
“Look, we know ye done it,” Bobby Mack growled. “Why don’t ye jist bloody-well admit it? Ye hated his guts. Everywan knows that.”
“Ah loved him!” she screamed.
“And then ye blasted him, so ye did,” The Sergeant shouted back. “Some love that.”
“Ye whit? Blasted? Who blasted…”
“Wae baith barrels.”
“Whit ur youse talking aboot, fur Christ’s sake?” Collette screamed at them.
“Duggie Dougan.”
“Eh?”
“Duggie Dougan wis blasted in the back wae a double-barrelled shotgun ootside your front door this efternoon aroond aboot three-twenty-five,” The Chief Inspector shouted at her. “And you fucking well done it, ya wee murdering cow, ye.”
“Bit…”
“Don’t sit there and bloody-well deny it, Collette,” The Sarge screamed, joining in, jist as aw the ceiling lights in the office suddenly exploded intae life followed by the sound ae heavy footsteps ascending the wooden stairs.
“Whit the fuck?” The Chief Inspector exclaimed, as the armed, uniformed delegation stoapped in front ae them.
“Ah, so this is where you’ve got to, Collette,” Superintendent Munro said. “For a while there, I thought I’d lost you.”
“Whit’s the meaning ae this interruption?” Bobby Mack demanded tae know, staunin up and pushing oot his chest. “We’re conducting a murder enquiry ae a polis inspector, so we ur.”
“No, correction, Chief Inspector, you were conducting a murder enquiry and now you’re not.”
“Bit…”
“Inspector McTavish, could you and your young skulks please place Chief Inspector Robert Mack and Sergeant Lesley Burke under arrest?” she asked The Highland Fox, as the uniforms behind them jumped intae action. “And as for you, dear? What a state you look. I think the time has come for you to get home and into a warm bath, don’t you?”
“Ouch, ya big basturt, ye, that wis sore,” Bobby Mack yelped, as the cuffs wur sprung oan they wrists ae his behind his back.
“Charges? Whit charges? Ah hivnae done anything,” Sally Burke screeched, fear evident in that voice ae hers.
“Conspiracy to pervert the course of justice…to start with,” the big sergeant hit her wae, grinning.
“Now then, Sergeant James, stand up, so that I can see you better,” The Super instructed Collette.
“Sergeant? That wee cow’s no a bloody sergeant,” Sally Burke snarled. “The only reason she’s a fucking poliswummin in the first place is because ae they tits and arse ae hers.”
“Oh, do shut up when I’m speaking, Sergeant Burke,” The Superintendent telt her, silencing The Sarge. “Now then, where was I? Oh yes, Sergeant James? After a good night’s rest, you will report back for duty at six o’clock tomorrow morning up in Possilpark Police Station…just for the time being, mind you. We’re setting up a probationary induction unit for new recruits. Once established, you’ll be transferred back down to Central to oversee the day-to-day needs of the new intake of female recruits. In the morning, you’ll be greeted by your new boss, Inspector Gordania McPhail, latterly of Buckie Town, which was recently described in the Press & Journal as a wee quiet fishing village, after Inspector McPhail was let loose on the violent drunken men and immoral quines that had been terrorising the inhabitants and making their lives a misery for years,” she declared, smiling.
“Ah demand tae know whit the fuck’s gaun oan. Ah’m Chief Inspector Bobby Mack, so Ah am. Ah wis decorated fur bravery fur disarming an armed gunman wan time, so Ah wis,” Bobby Mack howled, as he and Sergeant Burke wur led away towards the stairs in the flair at the far end ae the big office.
“Sergeant?” The Superintendent asked the brick shithoose, withdrawing a Panatela fae her wee green box and lighting it up. “Why don’t you take Sergeant James home. It’s been a long day and she looks as if she’s about to collapse.”
7.50 PM
The Big Sergeant hid asked her if she wanted tae join him in the front, bit she’d preferred the shadow ae the back seat ae the unmarked car that she’d been bundled intae earlier. It wis Friday night and the toon wis awready starting tae jump.
“Left here,” she said, as the driver swiftly turned the steering wheel aff the High Street and intae Ingram Street, jist managing tae get past the fire station, as the big wooden doors wur slid open and the blue lights ae the fire engines came oan as he continued in the direction ae Lanarkshire Hoose where The Sheriff Court sat.
“Turn right in tae South Frederick Street and then first oan the left intae St Vincent Street alangside George Square.”
Although it wis coming up fur eight and getting dark awready, there wis still a wee crowd ae Johnboy Taylor’s supporters staunin ootside the courthoose, waving their placards, demanding justice. She wis convinced that she’d heard somewhere that he’d been suddenly released by the Law Lord
s at The Court ae Appeal in Edinburgh, bit she wis too shattered tae remember where she’d picked that wan up.
“The fun is starting early,” The Big Sergeant wae the chookter accent said, chortling, as Lou Reed’s ‘Walk Oan The Wild Side’ started up oan the car radio and a group ae screaming lassies aw started fighting wae each other, as Rabbie Burns, wae a smirk oan that face ae his, looked doon oan them fae his plinth at the corner ae Queen Street.
She supposed, tae an ootsider, The Dirty City wis a wild, corrupt, cesspit ae a place that probably came across like something oot ae an auld wild west film, bit tae her and others like her, it wis the people that made the place. She’d asked The Super if she’d manage tae get back intae her flat and hid been telt that everything hid been taken care ae. Apparently, her and Mr Hopkins hid a brand new door noo. Since hearing the news ae Duggie Dougan, she’d tried tae shed a tear or even churn up some sympathy, bit there wis nothing there. The basturt hid lived by the sword and hid died by it…or in his case, by a shotgun blast in the back. There wis bound tae be repercussions aw roond, bit fur her, a new dawn wis jist aboot tae break and a new day wis a new beginning. She glanced oot ae the windae as the sergeant turned up the volume oan the radio, jist as Lou Reed started telling everywan aboot Holly fae Miami FLA plucking they eyebrows ae hers, as they slowly crawled past the corner ae West Campbell Street. The streetwalker lassies wur oot in force, plying their trade, vying wae each other tae grab the attention ae the big flashy motors insteid ae the auld tin buckets, whose occupants wid hiv tae wait a while until their flashier brothers goat first helpings. It looked as if it wis gonnae be a busy night aheid fur the wummin. She missed the wummin fae the streets and the camaraderie ae the lassies in the sex squad. She couldnae believe how naive she must’ve come across when she’d first joined up. Tae start wae, she’d thought the squad wis where they put aw the probationers like her, tae gie them a wee taste ae whit tae expect. She smiled as she remembered telling wan ae the other lassies that if this wis probation, then she couldnae wait tae get sent oot intae the districts and hoosing schemes where the wild west, in aw its gory glory, really wis being played oot. Of course, she’d only been oan the job a week at that point.
“Do you think someone’s dialled the wrong number, lass?” The Big Sergeant asked, chortling away tae himsel again, as they passed a solitary phone box wae the phone inside it at the corner ae Blythswood Street, ringing away, being ignored by the streetwalkers as they stepped aff the pavement tae encourage the big sarge tae stoap the car tae listen tae their prices.
“Turn right up here,” she said, haudin oan tae the door handle, as he swung intae Pitt Street, drapping a couple ae gears tae get up the hill, as Lou Reed’s Candy came oot fae the island, hinging aboot in the back room, being everywan’s darling.
She caught a fleeting glimpse ae Blythswood Square as they crossed West George Street, bit she wis far mair interested in whit wis oan her side ae the car. The Serious Crime & Intelligence office lights oan the third flair ae Strathclyde Polis’s Pitt Street office wur still burning.
“Always oan duty twenty-four-seven, so we ur,” Lesley hid reminded her, the last time they’d walked past the building, oan route tae the Kings Café roond oan Elmbank Street.
It looked like she hidnae been kidding either. Collette hid decided that she couldnae care less if she never came across Geraldine Baker or Senga Jackson oan her travels ever again in the future. She hidnae been convinced aboot Baker. Too bolshie fur Collette’s liking. No long efter meeting Senga, she remembered heiding hame, feeling envious ae her. Despite being in love wae a thug, she’d come across as genuinely nice, clearly confident in her ain skin and clever. Oan the few occasions she’d met Senga, she’d been beautifully turned oot in they expensive togs she’d obviously picked up fur free fae ‘DIRTY JAKE’S BOUTIQUE,’ doon oan Buchanan Street. She searched the building oan her side ae the car as Lou Reed shouted tae Joe tae take a Walk Oan The Wild Side, while aw the colour girls doo-be-doo-be-dooed jist as the saxophone kicked in. She wis still convinced that Lesley wid come roond sooner or later. Despite still suffering fae the loss ae her da, Collette still believed that time did indeed heal everything and the fact that Lesley and Teddy wur in the clear tae make a fresh start meant that she’d probably get a phone call tae meet up in the Kings Café fur a cuppa and a chinwag. She’d love tae be a fly oan the wall when Lesley found oot that she’d made stripes. She wondered whit it meant tae be a sergeant. She wisnae gonnae be like that pair ae basturts, The Gruesome Twosome. The Super hid telt her earlier up at the canal that aw The Irish Brigade wid be getting dealt wae, wance and fur aw. It looked like it hid awready started, gaun by whit she’d witnessed back in Central.
“I know where I am now, lass,” The Big Sergeant informed her, turning left intae Sauchiehall Street, as Lou Reed informed her and the big sergeant that Sugar Plum Fairy hid jist hit the streets they wur leaving behind, as they heided west in the direction ae Partick.
She missed her Da. Sometimes the pain wis too much. She wished he could be here tae see how it hid aw turned oot fur her. Despite her resignation letter fae earlier, she still wanted tae be a polis officer. She wanted tae gie something back tae the community. She wanted tae serve somebody…that’s aw that mattered tae her. She wondered whit her new boss wid be like, the wan whose name she couldnae remember noo. She’d been tempted tae ask the big yin behind the steering wheel whit she wis like, bit hid decided against it. She wis too tired tae think, let alone speak. She’d find oot everything there wis tae know when she turned up fur work the next morning. Her first priority wid be tae take back whit wis rightfully hers, starting wae that wee WPC Hamilton who’d blagged her da’s good gold Dunhill lighter.
9.00 PM
“How is he, Senga?” Geraldine whispered, slipping through the curtain, as Senga wiped her eyes wae a tissue.
“Ach, Ah’m no sure. Mr Singh, the new consultant, said that if he kin make it through the operation, then he’ll hiv a better chance ae survival the morra. He’s lost a lot ae blood fae the stab wounds and that split heid, so he his. He said that Dumfries Infirmary did a grand job, so they did.”
“Aye, they’re jist aboot tae come and collect him, tae take him back tae theatre.”
“Oh, Geraldine,” Senga whispered, sobbing. “If anything should happen tae him noo efter whit he’s been through.”
“Ach, don’t you worry, hen, this wan’s a fighter, so he is.”
“Dae ye think so?” Senga sniffed.
“Christ, look at that six-pack. He must’ve been oan a keep-fit regime twenty four seven in the jail, so he must’ve.”
“Oh, Ah don’t know,” Senga whimpered, doubtfully. “That Tony Gucci wan always said that Johnboy couldnae fight sleep, so he couldnae,” Senga sniffed, as the pair ae them looked at each other before quietly bursting oot laughing through their tears. “Listen, Geraldine, thanks fur allowing me in tae see him before they take him alang tae theatre. We’ll baith get shot if we’re caught.”
“Hoi, you, ur you jesting or whit?” Geraldine scoffed, exaggerating her umbrage. “You and me ur The National Health Service, so we ur. It’s people like us that’ll ensure that everywan get’s the best no matter whit time a day or night it is,” she declared, winking, gieing Senga’s shoulder a wee squeeze, before disappearing back oot through the curtain as Senga leaned across and gied Johnboy a kiss.
Chapter Seventy One
“Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines at 10 PM in Scotland tonight.
The Strathclyde police inspector shot and killed in a closemouth at number forty-three Lawrence Street, Hillhead, late this afternoon, has been named as Inspector Douglas Dougan. Inspector Dougan, who was married with a son and daughter, had served the community of Possilpark in the north of the city for over twenty years. Tonight, colleagues were said to be devastated by the heinous murder and are targeting well-known organised criminal gangs across the city in pursuit of the killer…
In o
ther sensational developments in Glasgow today, the youth at the centre of the attempted kidnapping of a social worker in Dumfries Young Offenders Institution, has been named as twenty-year-old John Taylor, who was serving fourteen years, the longest sentence ever imposed on a teenager in Scotland, for shooting two police officers during a bank raid in Maryhill in November 1972. It has since transpired that Taylor, who is critically injured in Glasgow Royal Infirmary after being transferred from Dumfries Infirmary, was actually attempting to rescue prison social worker, Mrs Fanny Flaw. Mrs Flaw’s husband said tonight that his wife owes her life to the young prisoner.