Kingston Bridge

by Ian Todd

  “Ah see that auld boyfriend ae whit’s her name, the psyche doctor, committed suicide in here oan Christmas Day, the perverted basturt,” Wan-bob said, trying tae lighten the conversation. “Hung himsel wae his ain belt, by aw accoonts.”

  “Before we go any further, Bob. Senga and Johnboy wurnae in a relationship at the time she went oot wae him briefly. She could dae whit the hell she wanted. Johnboy’s fine wae who Senga wis seeing in the early days when he wis in the jail. It’s 1976. It’s no like the aulden days when youse auld dinosaurs thought ye owned wummin, until ye goat shot ae them or they died ae auld age,” Tony hit him wae.

  “Ah’m only saying, fur fuck’s sake,” Wan-bob laughed. “So, he wis awright wae the situation then…that’s whit ye’re saying?”

  “Look, Johnboy’s happy and so is Senga, which means so am Ah, as is everywan else.”

  “Even though she’s splitting him away fae the rest ae youse? It wid need tae be some bloody beauty tae tempt me away fae ma best pals, so it wid,” he declared, sounding solemn, as Tony laughed. “Whit?”

  “You. Ye’re fannying aboot here, trying tae noise me up. Why don’t ye jist come oot wae whit it is ye’re efter, so Ah kin get back doon the road tae sort ma ain problems oot?”

  “Fuck’s sake. Who said anything aboot asking ye tae dae anything fur me? Ah asked ye up here tae find oot how ye’re getting oan wae helping me and Charlie oot…however, noo that ye’ve brought it up, there might be something ye kin dae tae ensure oor miserable existence in here improves a wee bit.”

  “Oh, aye?”

  “Well, apart fae you and that wee bunch ae tickets ae yours behaving yersel, which means staying away fae Victor Ruth, if he gets bail, Ah need ye tae ensure Papa McGregor cops his whack oan the first day ae oor trial…the 13th,” he stated, looking the Tally straight in the eye. “Well, say something, fur Christ’s sake.”

  “The impression Ah goat, efter that heidline aboot Shaun’s resurrection, wis that you and Charlie wid probably be walking oot ae here in a day or two. Whit’s changed?”

  “Aye, well, that might still happen, if justice is allowed tae take its natural course, bit they crooked basturts ur at it, especially that Cleopatra wan. Hiv ye hid the pleasure ae meeting the mad cow?”

  “Naw, and Ah don’t intend tae anytime soon.”

  “Aye, well, she’s well named, that viper. Whitever the ootcome, Ah’d advise ye tae try and gie that bitch a body-swerve, so Ah wid. Anyway, where wis Ah, before Ah wis rudely interrupted by your stupid question? Oh, aye…this is fur your ears only, by the way. We think she’s pulling a flanker and that she’s goat somewan tucked away somewhere…”

  “And ye want us tae put oot the feelers…”

  “Fuck’s sake, whit hiv Ah telt ye, Tony? Stoap trying tae put words intae ma mooth. Jist sit back and listen and ye’ll maybe learn a thing or two. Noo, they’re gonnae play hard tae get, bit we’re challenging them tae drap the charges or…”

  “That’ll mean that Stalker basturt will walk,” Tony interrupted, cursing under his breath.

  Silence.

  “Okay, sorry. Carry oan.”

  “Noo, they’re gonnae try and drag this oot till as near tae the trial as possible, before they release the name or names, through the Crown Prosecution witness list, which we’re entitled tae access. When they dae finally admit it, they’ll claim that whoever they’ve goat his jist come forward. As soon as that happens, Ah need youse tae find oot where the fuck they’ve stashed the basturt.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it. Your job will be done. Irrespective ae whit else happens between noo and the day we go up tae court oan the 13th, Ah want that gammy wan-ermed basturt dealt wae oan the first morning ae oor trial.”

  Silence.

  “That wee ootstanding final favour that Ah asked ye aboot the last time Ah wis up…” Tony reminded him, before he wis interrupted.

  “See, there ye go. Ah don’t fucking believe you, so Ah don’t, ya fucking greasy Atalian snake-in-the-grass poncie cunt. Hiv you heard anything Ah’ve jist said?”

  “Aye, and it’s noted, bit…”

  “It’s been dealt wae, okay?” Wan-bob snapped at him. “It’s no as fucking easy as you think.”

  “Well, according tae you, it wis a piece a piss the last time, so it wis.”

  “Look, Ah’m gonnae go oan the basis that you didnae jist sit there and try and take advantage ae the situation we’re in. Your two main priorities…naw three, ur tae keep well away fae Victor Ruth, find oot where they’re hiding that white rabbit and make sure that spastic cunt across in Govan cops his whack oan the morning ae the 13th ae February. Dae that, and that wee favour ae yours will be haunded across tae ye, wrapped up wae a pink bow, so it will.

  “And Pearl Campbell?

  “Whit aboot her?”

  “Ah want tae find oot who they basturts wur that attacked her.”

  Silence.

  “Ah’ll see whit Ah kin dae, bit don’t haud yer breath,” Wan-bob eventually agreed, as Tony stood up.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Her ma hid phoned Geraldine efter Pearl refused point blank tae go doon tae The Royal fur a check-up.

  “Ah’m fine,” she’d telt Geraldine, jist managing tae catch her before she’d left her flat across in Hillheid at that time ae the night, tae come across tae Springburn tae see that she wis okay.

  She’d spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom, trying tae calm hersel doon, inspecting the damage and trying tae make hersel look presentable, while her ma hid paced up and doon the lobby, waiting fur her tae come oot.

  “Fine? Ye’re no bloody fine. Look at the state ae ye,” her ma hid howled in the background, getting hersel intae a right auld tizzy as she’d hung up the phone.

  “That’s it, ye’re jacking that bloody job in the night…the morra! Wait until yer da finds oot aboot this.”

  “Don’t be silly, Ma.”

  “Silly? Ah’m getting right oan tae that phone jist noo, so Ah am. Ah want they polis up here tae see the state ye’re in.”

  Apart fae the sore guts where the basturt hid punched her, she didnae feel too bad. She’d put oan a turtleneck jumper that partially hid the marks oan her neck and a good bit ae foundation oan her face tae hide the bruising. She hoped she wisnae gonnae end up wae a keeker. Tony Gucci hid waylaid her oan Hope Street as she heided tae work first thing.

  “Ye either walk intae that Wimpey across there oan yer ain two feet or Ah drag ye,” he’d threatened her.

  Despite the verbal threat, he hidnae done too much talking wance they wur sitting drinking a cup ae tea.

  “Badge numbers oan their shoulders?” he’d asked, efter she’d explained whit hid happened the night before.

  “Naw. It wis dark.”

  “Wur they oan fit or did they hiv wheels?”

  “They heided back up North Hanover Street towards Cathedral Street.”

  “And?”

  “And Ah nipped doon oan tae George Street and made ma way alang tae Hope Street tae get the 32 up the road. By the time Ah’d goat up aff the cobbles, they’d disappeared.

  “Wis there anything that made them staun oot, Pearl?”

  “Apart fae being sergeants, they wur big…big six footers.”

  “Wid ye recognise them again if they wur pointed oot tae ye,” he’d asked, as a jam sandwich, wae two polismen sitting in it, drove past oan the other side ae the glass.

  Although he’d sounded gruff when he’d confronted her oan the street, she could tell that he wis genuinely concerned wance they’d sat doon. Efter grilling her aboot the polis, he’d started questioning her aboot her boss, The Rat, warning her that she hid tae be wary ae him.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because the basturt’s in the pockets ae Wan-bob Broon. That’s why.”

  “Really?” she’d stupidly exclaimed, as he snorted.

  “Look, jist watch that creepy basturt. He’d sell ye doon the river as quick as look at ye.”
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br />   She’d telt him everything that hid happened since she’d started at the paper. Aboot the exclusives passed oan tae her by The Rat, like the inspector fae the flying squad getting caught before passing oan the hash tae the gangster, being telt tae get her arse up the road tae Lambhill Cemetery wae slipper, as well as the fact that she’d hid nothing tae dae wae the Shaun Murphy heidline.”

  “Whit the fuck wur ye daeing walking up Castle Street oan yer lonesome at that time ae the night fur?” he’d scowled, before it hid dawned oan him that she wis maybe heidin hame efter being wae somewan.

  Luckily, he’d been too much ae a gentleman tae push her further. He obviously thought she’d been heidin up the road fae somewan’s bed. She’d been tempted tae tell him aboot Pussy Galore, bit hid held back fur some reason. Although she loved him, as she did aw The Mankys, she wisnae as naive as tae be unaware ae the dangerous person Tony and the rest ae them wur…hid become. She’d wanted tae ask him aboot his remark, aboot her staying away fae Johnboy and Senga tae gie them a bit ae space, bit hid thought better ae it. She knew fine well that it hid been a mistake tae ask Johnboy if he’d mention tae Tony aboot trying tae wangle an interview wae Glenda Metcalfe via Graham Portoy. That wisnae how they operated. If somewan wanted anything fae them, they hid tae go tae the key source. That meant Tony. The rest ae them wid jist pan ye aff.

  “Aye, well, ye better speak tae Tony yersel,” hid been the maist recent response fae Baby.

  “Bit Ah’m asking you.”

  “Aye, well…”

  “Ah better ask Tony?”

  “See, ye did eventually get there in the end,” Baby hid said tae her a few days earlier, when she’s asked him if he hid any background information oan some guy fae across in Govan, that hid disappeared oan Christmas Day night.

  “Look, Ah need tae go,” she’d apologised, staunin up. “Thanks fur the cup ae tea.”

  “Pearl, the next time ye need a lift up the road, no matter whit time it is, day or night, you mind and gie me a shout and wan ae us will come and pick ye up,” hid been the last words fae him, as she’d heided across the road tae her work, nearly being run o’er by Baby, as he pulled up tae the pavement, a big mischievous grin spread across that baw face ae his.

  She’d been telt that The Rat hid scurried up the stairs tae Hamish’s office ten minutes before she’d arrived, which hid suited her fine. Efter talking tae Tony, she wisnae intae hivving tae explain her bruises again. She hidnae been sitting fur mair than a minute when her phone hid jumped oan the desk.

  “Hello, Pearl Campbell?” she’d sang pleasantly, feeling shite.

  “Thirty Six Hotspur Street, Maryhill,” Pussy Galore’s voice rasped. “Bottom left.”

  “Er, whit is?” she’d stupidly asked.

  “Susan McFarlane. She moved doon fae Cadder a few weeks ago. Took me a wee while tae find that oot.”

  “Oh, right…listen, we need tae meet up again. Ah wis attac…”

  She hidnae goat tae finish her sentence. The raspy bugger hid hung up oan her, which oan reflection, she wis glad ae. Whit the hell wis she wanting tae tell the likes ae Pussy Galore that she’d been attacked the previous night fur? It wid probably hiv put her aff wanting tae meet up wae her again, which she didnae want. She’d also wanted tae see if she could change the meeting venue. The thought ae sneaking past that violent mad wanker again, particularly efter whit hid happened in the lane doon oan Hanover Street, made her feel faint. Efter a few phone calls, she’d set aff back doonstairs, taking in a wee swatch ae the street map up oan the wall beside the lift. She’d wanted tae ask Tony if he’d spoken tae Graham Portoy, bit she’d known better. If he said he wid, which he hid, then he wid. She jist hid tae be patient, despite the clock ticking doon against her and the ex poliswummin. She wisnae sure how she wis gonnae introduce hersel or bring up the subject ae the letters wae Susan McFarlane. Whit if she didnae want tae speak tae her and slammed the door in her face? Christ, she’d never thought ae that. She turned intae Hotspur Street, before daeing a quick U-turn back oan tae Queen Margaret Drive, as the wind jist aboot keeled her o’er, oan tae that awready sore bum ae hers. She went in tae her bag and pulled oot her wee notepad. Number 36, bottom left. She pulled her scarf up o’er her mooth and jist went fur it. The wind wisnae too bad wance she goat intae it proper, wae her heid bent doon in tae it. It only hurt when she glanced up at the closemooth numbers as she passed them. She’d need tae sit her driving test, if she managed tae get a permanent job. A few ae the lassies hid managed it, so there wis nae reason she couldnae dae it as well. Before she knew it, number thirty six loomed up. She quickly glanced up and doon the street, hesitating, playing fur time. A wee mini whirlwind ae crisp pokes, ice-lolly wrappers and dispersed pages fae discarded Glesga Echoes chased efter each other towards her on the street, which wis deserted, apart fae wan ae the local dugs, bent double, wae its tongue hinging oot the side ae its mooth, oblivious tae the hurricane blowing roond aboot its ears, hivving a shite in the middle ae the potholed road. Even wae the sound ae the wind whistling in they ears ae hers, she could still hear the shouting and screaming ae two adults, mingled wae a wean’s voice howling in the background, coming fae the closemooth. Her heart sank as she realised that it wis coming fae the bottom left, as she tenderly fingered her sore neck, the events ae the night before hitting her wae flash-backs. No sure whit tae dae next, the female’s painful screams forced her haun and she pushed open the door that hid been sitting slightly ajar. She felt her mooth dry up, as she quickly tiptoed alang the lobby and peeked roond the door. A lassie wis lying face doon oan the couch screaming and howling. A guy hid his knee in the middle ae her back, twisting wan ae her erms up it. The wean wis staunin across at the windae, wae wan ae the curtains gripped in its wee hauns, wailing the place doon, covering and uncovering it’s tearstained face wae the folds ae the material. She didnae hesitate. She lifted wan ae her feet up and wrenched aff her shoe, before striding across the flair and whacking the basturt repeatedly wae the heel ae it, oan the back ae that heid ae his.

  “Ouch! Ah, ya basturt, ye! Arrggghhh,” he howled, while trying tae staun up, as she continued tae ladle intae him.

  Efter that, everything became a bit ae a blur. Perhaps as a result ae the assault ae the night before, she totally lost it, as she whacked him wae her shoe and aimed kicks between they legs ae his. Wan second, he wis beneath her, covering his heid wae his hauns, while trying tae get up oan tae his feet and the next, he wis heidin fur the living room door.

  “You fucking remember whit Ah telt ye!” he screamed, before disappearing.

  She didnae know if she’d hid a temporary black-oot or whit, bit when she wis able tae focus again, panting like an auld street dug oan heat, confusion took o’er. Where hid everywan gone, a voice in her heid screamed in blind panic. Where wis the lassie and the wean? A slight movement ae the curtains answered her, along wae muffled sobs.

  “Susan…Susan, it’s okay, hen. He’s gone. Ye’re safe noo,” she said, drawing back the twisted curtain. “Look, c’mone…let’s get you and the wean back up oan tae the couch.

  Susan McFarlane refused tae budge as she crouched there, sobbing, haudin oan tae the whimpering wean. Pearl looked aboot the living room. Although it looked like a bomb hid gone aff in it, whit hidnae been wrecked looked nice and in its place. It wis the furniture that hid caught the worse ae the carnage. Wan ae the legs oan the wee coffee table wis missing as it lay at an awkward angle, the leg at the good end lifted up aff the flair. The electric fire hid obviously goat somewan’s heel through it, as the middle ae it looked caved in, wae bits ae the white chalk bars hinging, still attached tae the wound wire, while fragments ae it lay in a wee scattered pile oan the hearth and carpet. Efter finally managing tae get Susan and the wean up oan tae the couch, she limped through tae the kitchen, hivving lost her shoe and came back wae a damp cloth and a dishtowel. Susan allowed Pearl tae lift the wee boy aff her lap oan tae hers, as she wiped her face, cleaning the blood fae her nose and mooth,
no sobbing noo, bit sniffling rapidly, trying tae control her intake ae air and they shaking hauns ae hers. Pearl looked aboot, before bending doon and picking up a wee plastic polis car that wis lying between their feet and haunded it tae the wean. She hidnae noticed, bit wan ae the wheels ae it must’ve come aff.

  “Look,” the wean said tae her, his wee cheeks still wet wae tears, haudin it towards her. “No wheel.”

  At least he wisnae greeting. She looked at the mother. She wis quite attractive looking, despite the back ae her hair staunin oan end where the basturt hid obviously hid a grip ae it.

  “How’s yer erm?”

  “A…a bit sore…at ma shoulder,” Susan sniffled, lifting her erm up and rotating it, gently at first, before picking up speed.

  “Here ye go, hen,” she offered, bending o’er and lifting her hairbrush oot ae her bag, which wis lying open, wae hauf its contents spilled oot ae it.

  Although her actions ae haunin the brush across, fur Susan tae make hersel presentable, might’ve seemed bizarre tae some, she’d spent a while in the mirror hersel when she’d arrived hame efter being assaulted by the polis sergeants. Fur some reason, the need tae look and feel normal hid become a priority. Why it wis important she didnae really know. In the meantime, she sat silently, watching Susan McFarlane trying tae tease the knots oot ae her hair. Her sore erm wis still shaking, bit she persisted. It wis whit Susan said next that threw her aff kilter.