Kingston Bridge

by Ian Todd

  “Pearl…Pearl, don’t be like that,” Geraldine called efter her. “Fuck!”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Superintendent Murdina Munro stood oan the wet pavement and momentarily watched the taxi heid aff intae the night, its brake lights flickering oan, jist before it did a U-turn and heided back up Sauchiehall Street fae where she’d jist come fae. She fleetingly glanced up at the building. She couldnae see the tap flair loft windae ae her cosy flat, up in the Gods, due tae the dazzle fae the street lamp and the light, spitting rain, drizzling doon towards her bare heid. Efter bending o’er and picking up her heavy shoulder bag, ignoring the unconscious drunk, lying slumped, wae his back against the wall ae the building, she pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. She’d been offered a car tae pick her up fae Queen Street, bit hid declined the offer. There hid been plenty ae developments in the toon since she’d disappeared up north and it wid’ve been difficult no tae jist tell the driver tae heid back tae Central in Turnberry Street, insteid ae up tae Charing Cross. She felt reassured by the light in the hallway, automatically tripping itsel oan and lighting up the tiled entrance in front ae her. Oan her first night, she’d stood in wonder oan wan ae the mezzanine flairs, waiting patiently tae see how long it wid take fur the bulb tae switch itsel aff. As well as admiring the modern technology, it hid been an instinctive security precaution. At the time, she’d wondered why they hidnae expanded the modernisation ae the building tae include replacing the auld wooden staircases efter the first flight. She’d soon come tae know which steps creaked and which wans didnae. It hid only been eighteen years earlier that electricity hid finally reached her family farm and her mother hid been persuaded tae come oot ae the dark ages and replace the four gas mantles in the living room wae wan solitary bulb in the middle ae the ceiling. She remembered the weans ae some ae the locals being allowed access in the evenings ae that first week, tae staun gawping up at the bare lightbulb through in the kitchen, as the switch oan the wall beside the door wis flicked oan and aff, like some wondrous, newly discovered invention. It hid been a parting ae the Dead Sea moment fur everywan who’d witnessed it. Charing Cross Mansions, like maist things in Glesga, wis built oan facades. Nothing ever seemed quite right, until ye scratched the surface, exposing the real, crumbling, dark interior. She felt ready tae enter the affray again, despite the negative reports reaching her. Wan-bob hid been busy, beavering away fae his prison cell, methodically undermining the evidence against him alongside that right haun man ae his, Charlie Hastie. Oan reflection, if she wis honest wae hersel, even wae the meticulous planning, she’d stupidly underestimated him, his reach, his enormous influence tae corrupt. It wis only efter being allowed tae staun back, ootside the melting pot, that she’d been able tae fully appreciate the extent ae the destruction and waste being inflicted oan ordinary people’s lives in a city, that up until noo hid struggled tae come tae terms wae its place in the modern world, despite the media hype and fancy advertising executives. She’d always been a firm believer that withoot the strong arm ae the law, society widnae hiv survived two minutes, never mind two thousand years. Unfortunately, where there wis good, evil wis never far away. It wis Ying and Yang. As a successful businessman, donating crumbs tae the maist high profile charities, people like Wan-bob Broon hid the perfect cover tae exploit and take advantage ae those genuinely wanting tae make things better fur themsels. There wid always be those who wurnae satisfied, who wanted the lot fur themsels, despite the size ae the cake. He wis wan ae them. In her gut, she knew his time wis fast approaching, where the good citizens, decent people, wid be able tae sleep easy in their beds at night, knowing that people like her wur oot there, fearlessly fighting the good fight oan their behauf. By getting shot ae Broon and Hastie, others like them wid hiv tae sit up and take notice, always wondering if they’d be next, she kept telling hersel. She glanced doon at her feet, taking advantage ae the pause tae get her breath back. She carefully placed the flat sole ae her shoe hard up against the bannister, while gripping oan tae the rail wae her haun, avoiding stepping oan the middle ae the ninth step, two short ae reaching the third landing. That wis the step that hid the loudest creak in the building. It hid also taken her a few goes tae work oot the exact spot, oan the first and seventh steps ae the next staircase up that ended at her door. That knowledge came in handy when she came and went in the middle ae the night. This wis Glesga. She’d awready hid death threats made against her. She hid a filing cabinet full ae them. Before Inspector Duggie Dougan’s assassination ootside Collette James’s flat, she’d been a bit slack when entering the building, believing her uniform wid keep her safe. Efter Dougan’s murder, extra security precautions hid become a matter ae life and death fur her and her skulks. She looked at the black painted, foreboding-looking door oan the third flair landing, staunin ominously in front ae her. It wid only take a second fur it tae be whipped open by a gunman and she’d be deid before she landed oan her back, slithering doon tae the mezzanine landing behind her. It wis a sobering thought. She’d decided that it wis important tae avoid gieing the occupants inside the flats that she passed oan a daily basis, the opportunity tae record her movements. Efter the two smoking ruins she’d left behind up north, an intense sense ae vulnerability hid crept o’er her, the closer the train hid goat in its approach tae Queen Street Station.

  Her mind drifted back tae the second meeting oan the 24th ae October. Despite being totally misguided and up her ain arse maist ae the time, Cooncillor Barbara Allen probably meant well, in a twisted sort ae way.

  “Ye know, Murdina, you and me urnae aw that different underneath that stiff, upper painted lip ae yours,” she’d said tae her, as they sat eyeing each other up in the deserted and forlorn looking, so-called Teardrap Café, doon in the bowels ae The Corporation.

  The Purple Dove hid drummed her fingers nervously oan the cover ae Rose Bain’s stolen polis file across the table fae her. At the time, she hidnae been sure if her nervousness hid been due tae the deal that wis being brokered or because she hidnae been satisfied by the terms.

  “Yes, but I believe in law and order,” she’d replied. “Without it, there would be anarchy.”

  “Aye, well, ye’re no the only wan aboot here that believes in that…Ah’m the same, bit justice his tae be fur everywan, rich or poor, male or female. Withoot equality, we don’t hiv law and order, so we don’t.”

  “So?” she’d asked, interrupting the start ae another contradictable lecture.

  “So, as agreed. The charges against the lassies who clogged up the butcher’s shoap locks oan Dumbarton and Victoria Roads wae Evo-Stick get drapped, alang wae any current investigation or subsequent charges against Geraldine Baker, particularly regarding how she managed tae get her hauns oan this file.”

  “And on your part, you’ll guarantee that The Showgirls will refrain from targeting senior police officers over the next two years and from covering billboards with graffiti…across the whole city…with alleged sexual harassment of WPCs, thus allowing me to take care of any conclusively identified perpetrators of past and present misdeeds.”

  “Ah still want that sloppy, cheeky cow, Sharon Campbell, who poisoned me and that family ae mine and ruined whit wis supposed tae be the second happiest day ae me and ma son’s lives dealt wae ruthlessly. Ah want that wan sent doon fur as long as possible, so Ah dae.”

  “We need to be careful. If you’re wanting Geraldine Baker’s involvement in the removal of that file kept quiet, then it will mean having to forego charging anyone associated with the Original Jelly Piece Sandwich Company.

  “Bit…”

  “It would open a whole can of worms that we want to keep a tight lid on. Sharon Campbell and the other women are still under bail conditions, despite the sudden death of Inspector Dougan. The original charges against the ladies of Springburn Larder still stand,” she’d reminded her, knowing fine well that wae Dougan’s demise, the case against the wummin hid collapsed like a pack ae soggy cards.

  “Well, that’s
a pity, so it is. Ah wis hoping that they’d get charged fur baith offences. However, if that’s the price, then Ah’m prepared tae make that sacrifice oan behauf ae the cause…and last bit by no means least, this hallowed sanctuary here remains consecrated and oot ae bounds fae youse wans in authority, so it dis,” she’d continued, wae a wave ae her purple covered erm, as the baith ae them looked aboot the depressing looking mausoleum. “This tatty looking room may mean nothing tae somewan like you, bit too many fallen wummin, innocent victims ae those in power, hiv found shelter fae the storm and gained strength fae whit this place his offered them o’er the years.”

  Barbara Allen hid sounded so pathetically plastic, that it hid taken aw her self-will no tae burst oot wae derisive laughter. How she’d managed tae haud hersel in check wis nothing short ae a miracle. Gordania McPhail, waiting impatiently in the car ootside oan George Street, hauncuffs at the ready, hid wanted tae jail The Cooncillor fur insurrection, until she’d been informed that that charge didnae apply anymair, she remembered, smiling tae hersel.

  “There are more important fish in the water that require our attention now, Gordania. We can clean the algae from the pond later, once we get rid of the pikes first.”

  Efter a hot bath and a good night’s sleep, she’d feel better, she thought tae hersel, as another landing light below and behind her automatically switched itsel aff, jist as her finger connected wae the switch that wid light up the next and final set ae stairs that lead up tae her door. Nothing. She tried again, flicking the switch oan and aff in quick succession this time. She stood, waiting fur her eyes tae adjust tae the pitch darkness, when the hairs oan the back ae her neck suddenly stood oan end at the distinctive sound ae the first step in the stairwell behind her suddenly creaking. She quickly turned and peered o’er the bannister, suppressing a shudder, searching fur movement doon in the black void below her.

  Silence.

  She felt a cauld sweat break oot oan her foreheid and the hair oan the back ae her neck staun oan end as her guts started tae churn. She wis convinced that she could detect somewan, directly underneath where she wis staunin, breathing. She stood stalk still, haudin her breath, listening intently as her mooth dried up. She fearfully glanced o’er the bannister again, her eyes used tae the dark noo. She’d jist managed tae convince hersel that it wis her imagination, when that first step, below where she wis staunin, creaked again and the toe ae somewan’s shoe disappeared quickly aff ae it and oot ae sight. Ignoring the faulty light switch and drapping her heavy travel bag oan tae the landing wae a heavy thud, she bounded up the last set ae stairs towards her door, her fingers frantically searching in her wee shoulder bag oan route fur her keys.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “Sorry, Ah’m late, boys,” Willie Burke apologised tae the group ae glum looking faces sitting huddled in the corner, as he weaved his way between the empty tables wae a pint in his haun.

  “Never mind, Willie…at least ye goat here,” the maist senior ae the suspended polis officers, Superintendent Daddy Jackson, said.

  “Is Sally no coming?” Bobby Mack, Sally’s chief inspector fae the north’s murder squad asked him.

  “Naw, she’s away wae it jist noo, so she is. It’s they fucking happy pills that the doctor keeps feeding her fur her depression, so it is.”

  “Ah hope ye reassured her that there’s nothing tae worry aboot, Willie. We’ve goat everything under control…or we did hiv,” Chief Inspector John Henderson, current heid ae the south’s murder squad said, shifting his chair alang a bit, tae allow the newcomer tae squeeze in between him and Billy Liar.

  “That sounds ominous, so it dis.”

  “It’s jist a wee hiccup…nothing mair. That basturt, Carcrash Wilson, who took o’er the prosecution service at the tail end ae last year, his asked that wee procurator fiscal, Glenda Metcalfe, tae review the charge against Teddy. His arse collapsed efter that article in The Glesga Echo oan Christmas Eve, so it did. It won’t go anywhere. Wilma Thain deduced that it wis a wee domestic that hid goat oot ae haun. Fuck, there’s two other cases that Ah know ae that ur waiting tae appear up in court, who’re oan reduced charges, even though their wives’ situations wur a lot worse than Teddy’s ever wis. Christ, wan ae them is even being dealt wae by The Sheriff Court, so it is.”

  “Plus, don’t furget the statements we’ve awready gied in support ae Teddy’s situation,” Bobby Mack reminded him.

  “So, we’ve nothing tae worry aboot then…is that whit ye’re saying?” Burke asked, looking at the strained faces o’er the rim ae his glass, taking a big gulp ae his pint this time, before lighting up a fag.

  “Whit John’s saying is that everything looks as per whit we intended, Willie. There’s jist a few wee loose ends that we need tae look at tae make sure everything’s oan course. And anyway, even if they dae bump up the charge and it dis go tae trial, it’ll collapse. Oor statements pointing oot whit a slutty cow that Lesley wan wis will blow any arguments against him oot ae the water. Trust us. That ponsy cunt, Wilson, is jist covering his arse fae the politicos. If Ah didnae know any better, Ah wid hiv him doon as being oan the take.”

  “So, did any ae youse manage tae get in there then?” Burke asked, clearly relieved at whit he wis hearing, taking another sip.

  “Eh?”

  “Ye know…wae Lesley Big Tits?”

  “Ah didnae…bit it wisnae fae the want ae trying, eh, Billy?” Bobby Mack chortled, as everywan laughed.

  “Ah remember wan night when we wur aw pished, in their flat in Annette Street, up in Govanhill. Lesley hid staggered aff, pished, tae bed earlier. Ah’d gone fur a slash tae the lavvy alang the lobby and hid a wee peek in through the bedroom door. She wis lying oan her back, unconscious, wae the blankets roond her waist, exposing they lovely paps ae hers. How Ah never jumped in there when Ah hid the chance, Ah’ll never know. Anyway, when Ah’d gone back through tae the living room, that wee trollop fae Possil that Duggie ended up hinging oot ae efter he dumped Collette James…whit wis her name, Daddy?”

  “Hamilton…Jessica Hamilton.”

  “That’s her. Anyway, Teddy wis sitting there wae his fingers knuckle deep in her knickers efter she’d flaked oot wae aw that drink we’d been plying her wae, bit the selfish basturt wisnae hivving any ae it between me and Lesley. Ah should’ve jist nipped in there when Ah hid the chance.”

  “Ah’d hid a go a few times masel, bit she kept knocking me back. The last time wis when she came across tae Craigie Street tae pick up they ‘Meat Is Murder’ tarts wae the glue, the night we nabbed them up oan Victoria Road. Tried tae make oot that she wisnae like that and that she loved Teddy, the lying cow,” the heid ae the south’s murder squad sniffed, as they aw laughed at him and his wishful thinking.

  “Anyway, enough ae this idle chatter. We’ve goat business tae take care ae.” Daddy reminded them. “So, John, ye wur jist saying that a few ae the traffic boys fae Craigie Street managed tae get a grip ae that wee hairy fae The Glesga Echo before Willie arrived?”

  “Aye, Big Thomas Healy and wan ae the other sergeants, Alan Carmichael. They dragged her fanny intae Hanover Lane efter she’d left some ‘Poor me fur being born a wummin,’ bleating tarts’ meeting, up oan Stirling Road, five or ten minutes earlier.”

  “Hanover Lane?”

  “Where The Big Man, Pat Molloy, used tae operate that illegal casino ae his, The Carlton Club, up until a few years ago? Remember? They’d awready spotted her oan Tuesday, roond aboot hauf eleven, cutting across George Square, heidin fur George Street. They wur in a car at the far end ae the square, heidin alang St Vincent Place. By the time they goat roond tae where they thought she’d gone, she’d disappeared intae thin air. They nipped in tae speak tae Violent Jake, in the car park at the bottom ae Montrose Street, tae ask him tae keep his eyes open fur her and tae gie them a shout if he clocked anywan fitting her description. The next night, the Wednesday, jist by fluke, efter questioning some tart that hid crashed her car and been admitted tae The Royal, they clocked h
er staunin talking tae another lassie ootside the Sally Army Hall oan Stirling Road. They fucked aff and parked up, tucked in at the corner ae The Rottenrow Maternity Hospital and Montrose Street, waiting tae see where she wis heidin. They caught up wae her strolling doon North Hanover Street and dragged her squealing intae the lane, efter stoapping her oan the pretext that they thought she wis oan the game. The wee cow hid the cheek tae try and resist. Alan gied her such a slap, she landed oan her arse before Thomas hauled her up aff the cobbles by the throat. Ah widnae be too concerned aboot her noo. She wis well warned whit wid happen tae her if she didnae stay away fae Teddy’s case.”

  “Ye don’t think she’d be able tae ID them, John?” Bobby Mack asked, looking a wee bit perplexed.

  “Nah, it wis dark oan the street and the lane itsel wis in pitch darkness. She widnae hiv known that they hid a set ae wheels wae them, as they’d left the car parked up, roond the corner oan Martha Street. They left her lying curled up in a baw, whimpering and spluttering her guts oot, efter it. Thomas gied her a dig in the guts wae that leather gloved fist ae his before they left. They reckoned that she wid’ve goat the message though.”

  “Good oan ye, John. Teddy will be pleased tae hear that, so he will. It’ll show him we’re still oot here, working oan his behauf.”

  “Right, Willie, ye’ve arrived jist in the nick ae time,” Daddy reminded him. “So, don’t go getting yersel upset noo, because this next part involves you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Susan McFarlane,” Daddy said, as the polis sergeant’s eyes narrowed, while everywan roond the table looked at him closely.

  “Whit aboot her?” The Sarge asked stiffly.

  “Ah’m no too sure how tae say this, bit she’s goat a wee snapper, so she his.”