Kingston Bridge

by Ian Todd

  “Context? Whit context? Aw this says tae me is that a bunch ae polismen back in the day humped and dumped a group ae poliswummin, who’re aw noo trying tae put the boot in oan the back ae Teddy Bare’s case. The fact that it disnae mention him by name will make it aw the mair confusing, no only tae the readers, who urnae very bright at the best ae times, bit tae the Hob-Nobs, up there in the Gods,” he’d snarled, pointing wan ae they long, nicotine stained fingernails ae his skywards.

  “Ye warned me no tae incriminate the paper and leave us liable.”

  “Naw, Pearl. Aw Ah asked ye tae dae wis tae crucify that Elvis impersonator and whit ye’ve come back wae is a history ae the sex lives ae the Glesga fucking polis force doon through the ages.”

  “Bit…”

  “Naw, nae bits. Go away and come back wae how that basturt knocked the hell oot ae that his wife ae his, because she wis being unfaithful tae him, leaving oot his name, bit explaining in technicolour how the basturt planned it aw in advance. Is that too difficult fur somewan like you?”

  “Bit, ye’re missing the point,” she’d hit him wae, pleading.

  “Naw, Pearl, it’s you that’s missing the point aboot here. See aw they people sitting behind ye, oot in that newsroom, beavering away like busy monks? That’s dedicated journalists hard at work, so it is. Any wan ae them wid gie the fingers ae their left haun tae get the opportunity that you clearly don’t appreciate. So, either get yer shit thegither and dae whit ye’ve been asked tae dae or piss aff. Ah don’t hiv time fur aw this nonsense. Teddy Bare’s trial starts in jist o’er a week, so it dis. Ah want that article ae yours oot within the next few days, so Ah dae.”

  That hid been five days ago. She felt her body stiffen. He’d gied her his first initial glance and hid then gone back tae the beginning, reading mair slowly this time, his dry lips murmuring her lines. She felt her stomach churn as she detected a wee perceptible shake ae that heid ae his. Wis that an impressive or negative shake, she wondered? Hid she changed enough ae it tae quell his terror fae the tap flair? She doubted it. Gaun oan his previous record, it wid’ve been the latter. At least he hidnae bawled at her so far. She continued tae study the tap ae his heid. In the short time she’d been wae the paper, she’d never received a compliment fae him oan anything she’d written. He must’ve been reading her mind the day that he reminded her that professional journalists don’t get compliments fae management fur daeing the job they wur trained and highly paid tae dae…the prick. She’d been sitting in Franco’s, the wee coffee shoap jist up the street, when the sound ae the wheel rims ae Simon’s car scraping alang the edge ae the pavement reached her through the glass fronted windae. The passenger door hid been flung open fae the inside and Simon’s face hid come intae view, motioning her tae get her arse in gear.

  “Get in,” he’d commanded, as she bent o’er intae the open door.

  “Where ur we gaun?”

  “Tony wants a word wae ye.”

  “Oh, right, er, anything in particular?” she’d stupidly asked.

  “You tell me,” he’d replied ominously, turning and looking at her, as he turned left and heided towards the West End.

  “Whit hiv Ah bloody well telt ye, Pearl?” Tony hid asked, sitting opposite her at the table in the kitchen ae his and Kim Sui’s new pad, which wis the size ae maist people’s flats.”

  “Whit hiv ye telt me?” she’d asked, lifting her mug ae coffee up and taking a sip ae it tae smother that nervousness ae hers.

  “Ah telt ye that if ye wanted a word wae me, then come and speak tae me direct withoot gaun through somewan else.”

  “Ah never telt anywan that Ah wanted a word wae ye, so Ah didnae.”

  “Oh, well in that case, when ye finish that coffee, Ah’ll drap ye aff back in the toon then,” Simon hid smirked.

  “Although, noo that Ah’m here, there might be something ye kin help me wae,” she’d said, jumping in quickly, as the pair ae them wur forced tae smile.

  “Look, why did ye no jist nip up here tae the flat and ask me?”

  It hid been said very matter ae fact. ‘Why did ye no jist nip up tae the flat and ask me?’ Christ, she hidnae thought ae that. It must’ve been the pressure she wis constantly under, she’d thought tae hersel, wondering how she wis gonnae broach the subject ae Wan-bob Broon.

  “Ah couldnae remember yer new address,” she’d replied, sounding lame. “It’s only since Ah’m here noo, that Ah remembered that Ah wanted tae ask ye something.”

  “Well, c’mone then, Pearl, spit it oot. It’s no like youse journalists no tae hiv something tae say fur yersels,” Simon sang, baiting her, as she scowled across at him.

  “Right, Ah’m listening,” Tony’d reminded her, settling doon beside his pal, loudly stirring his coffee, the sound ae the jangling, clinking teaspoon grating in her ears, as he looked across at her like some big cat, deciding whether tae play wae the victim first, or whether jist tae go fur a bite and get it aw o’er and done wae.

  “Ah…Ah need a wee favour, so Ah dae.”

  “Ah wee favour? Noo, why dae Ah think this wee favour is gonnae cost me plenty?”

  “Well, it wis you that came tae me in the first place, remember?” she reminded him, as the pair ae basturts burst oot laughing.

  “Okay, that’s fair enough,” The Atalian hid acknowledged.

  Silence.

  ”Er, any chance ae sharing whitever it is ye’re wanting or ur we aboot tae play a wee game ae charades?” Simon hid asked pleasantly, as Tony smirked.

  “Ah’ve goat a wee problem, so Ah hiv.”

  “She’s goat a problem,” Tony hid snickered, turning tae that pal ae his.

  “She’s goat a problem? Fuck, beam me up, Scotty,” Simon hid quipped, as the baith ae them chortled, making nae attempt tae share their problem wae her.

  “Aye. Ma boss won’t use ma article,” she’d confessed miserably, ignoring the jibe.

  “So, whit the hell dae ye want me tae dae aboot it? Ah don’t hiv any influence o’er The Rat. It’s Wan-bob Broon ye’d need tae talk tae fur that.”

  “Aye, well, that’s the point.”

  “Whit is?”

  “He’s in the jail, so he is.”

  Silence.

  “So?”

  “So, there’s no way somewan like me could get in tae hiv a wee chat wae somewan like him…me being a journalist and aw that,” she’d added. “We cannae go in tae the jails withoot special permission. Prisoners urnae allowed tae meet wae hacks, in case it’s construed as a press briefing.”

  “So, whit’s so special aboot the article then? If it’s goat anything tae dae wae the bizzies, then furget it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ah said so, that’s why.”

  “Look, Tony, Ah’ve come up wae some interesting stuff, uncovering whit that Irish Brigade hiv been up tae o’er the…”

  “Pearl, whit hiv Ah jist telt ye? We’re no interested. We’ve a lot oan oor plates jist noo that disnae involve getting intae a tangle wae bent bizzies.”

  “Look, Ah’m no asking ye tae get directly involved. Ah’ve finally, at long last, goat the basturts bang tae rights, so Ah hiv.”

  “Is she deaf or whit?” Simon hid asked Tony.

  “Naw, she’s jist aff her heid.”

  “Look, aw Ah’m wanting is somewan tae use a wee bit ae influence tae convince that boss ae mine tae print a story…their story.”

  “Who’s story?”

  “The ex-poliswummin,” she’d squealed in frustration.

  “Okay, keep the knickers oan,” Simon hid tut-tutted, smiling.

  “Ah thought ye wur trying tae nail Teddy, whit’s his name?”

  “Teddy Bare. He murdered his poliswummin wife, remember? Believe you me, Tony, everything Ah’ve written, is aw connected, so it is.”

  “Let me read a copy.”

  “Ae whit?”

  “Ah’m gonnae sling that wee arse ae hers oot ae that door if she disnae stoap fucking us aboot, here,” Tony hid grow
led at Simon, before the penny drapped.

  “Oh, the story…ma article,” she’d exclaimed, hurriedly bending o’er and picking up her shoulder bag.

  “Bloody hell, Pearl, journalism must be in some state these days tae employ somewan like you,” Simon hid hit her wae, getting smiles aw roond the table this time.

  “Ah’ve telt youse before, youse pair make me nervous the way ye sling they negative looks at me,” she’d haughtily replied, haunin o’er her sheaths ae paper.

  She’d sat nervously, sipping her coffee, her anxiety increasing, efter Tony refused tae allow her tae light up a fag because Kim Sui didnae like the smell in the flat, as he read the article, before offering it across tae Simon fur a read.

  “Ah think Ah’ll pass oan this wan,” he’d said drily.

  “There’s nothing in here aboot Teddy Bare. Ah thought this wis aboot him deliberately murdering that bizzy wife ae his?”

  “It is. That bit comes later. In the meantime, Ah want tae highlight the plight ae aw they poor ex-WPCs. This is the context part ae the scandal, so it is.”

  “So, why won’t Rodent Chops allow it tae be printed then? Fae whit Ah’ve jist read, it disnae mention anywan’s name. In fact, it disnae really say anything other than some senior bizzies took advantage ae some young rookies and shagged them rotten o’er the years.”

  “He claims that it’ll legally compromise the paper. He says that it’s too blatantly obvious whit Ah’m up tae and will come across as though The Glesga Echo is deliberately trying tae influence the ootcome ae a trial that hisnae started yet. He also says that it could be prejudicial tae Bare’s right tae a fair trial. He claims the paper disnae hiv the stomach these days tae go tae war wae the polis. Seemingly, it happened regularly in the past, bit since Lord Haw Haw, who owns the paper, spends maist ae his time gallivanting in the House Ae Lords doon in London, he says that Hamish The Editor won’t buy it.”

  “Bit, if it disnae mention or refer tae Teddy Bare’s case, then ah don’t see how it could compromise his case.”

  “That’s whit Ah said, bit he says that’s no whit Ah wis employed tae investigate and that Ah’d gone aff brief.”

  “Let me hiv a wee swatch ae it,” Simon suddenly asked, his interest piqued, picking up the sheets.

  Silence.

  “There must be mair tae it than the paper no wanting tae upset the polis,” Simon hid declared. “This is quite clever, so it is. If this wis tae go oot before the trial, then everywan in the jury will be aware ae whit’s been gaun oan in the polis force o’er the past fifteen years. See, Ah telt ye she wis smart,” Simon hid said tae Tony, playfully slapping him oan the side ae the heid.

  “Aye, bit who’s trying tae sink it?” Tony hid mused.

  “Ah reckon the rodent basturt’s oan the make, so Ah dae. He’s obviously getting backhanders fae somewan else. Ah suppose the question is fae who?”

  “The Irish Brigade?”

  “Maybe,” Simon hid acknowledged. “Or, maybe somewan who knows whit Wan-bob’s up tae and is trying tae block his campaign ae keeping his name oot ae the papers leading up tae his trial. Look at aw the shite The McGregors hiv been oan the receiving end ae fae the likes ae Pearl here and her pals in the evening papers? When wis the last time Wan-bob Broon or Charlie Hastie’s name came up in the news or the papers?”

  “Shaun Murphy?”

  “Aye, bit that wis positive. Pearl’s heidline suggested the pair ae pricks wur innocent. This is different. This wid be oan the front page fur at least a week and a day, pushing aside anything else, unless the Queen caught the Duke ae Edinburgh perching oan wan ae they wee page boys ae his.”

  “Pearl, dis The Rat know that some ae The Irish Brigade ur getting called up as defence witnesses in Bare’s defence?” Simon hid asked her.

  “Ah don’t know. Ah didnae get that far before he slung ma arse oot ae his office.”

  “Fae whit you telt us the last time we met, Ah still don’t see why the article is so important tae nail Bare. It sounds as if his arse is oot the windae awready, so it dis.” Tony hid said tae her.

  “It’s the witnesses…the ex poliswummin.”

  “Whit aboot them?”

  “Their spokesman…wummin, Pricilla Presley. She says that withoot an article in the paper exposing whit happened tae them…her, then they’re no prepared tae haun o’er fresh statements and be called up as witnesses at Bare’s trial. Withoot fresh statements, then he’ll walk oan a reduced charge.”

  Silence.

  “Pricilla Presley? Ah thought she lived in a big hoose in Memphis, Tennessee?” Simon hid quipped, as the three ae them smiled.

  “Look, it’s a long and complicated story. If youse pair hiv aw day and night, then Ah kin explain, bit if no?”

  “Who else is aware ae this?”

  “Er…Ah might’ve mentioned it tae Donna The Prima Donna.”

  Silence.

  “And whit’s she saying aboot it?”

  “Er…she thinks The McGregors might be in there somewhere, so she dis.”

  “Kin ye leave this wae me?” Tony hid asked her, tapping her article wae the tips ae his fingers.

  “So, ye’ll dae it…talk tae Wan-bob Broon then?”

  “Ah’ll see that this is passed oan, wae a wee explanation, bit that’s aw Ah kin promise ye, Pearl. Whit that crusty auld basturt dis wae it, will be up tae him. Anything else?”

  “Naw, that’s it.”

  “Okay. Right then. Who’s intae nipping across tae The University Café tae grab a late breakfast, Ah’m starving,” Tony hid asked, staunin up.

  And noo here she wis, sitting opposite The Rat. She still didnae know if Tony hid passed oan her article, although there wisnae any reason tae suggest he hidnae. She jumped in her seat, as Ratty Arse scowled, before picking up his pencil, scoring a line oot and writing something above it, before continuing. She allowed her mind tae drift back tae her breakfast wae Tony and Simon. She wisnae stupid. In the past two months, she’d unwittingly ended up wae whit appeared tae be a paper poke full ae masters, aw believing they hid her in their pockets or purses. First there hid been Wan-bob Broon getting her the job in the first place, before Tony and Simon hid popped up, finally admitting that it hid been them who’d originally put in the word wae Wan-bob, no long efter she’d arrived back in the toon, which hid been a relief. No matter whit job she’d ended up wae, she widnae hiv been prepared tae allow somewan like Wan-bob Broon tae pull her strings. Next up hid been The Purple Dove hersel. Mrs Purple and her wee band ae Showgirls hid believed they could also gie her a using. Then along came the inspector, Wilma Thain, wae Glenda Metcalfe, The Mankys’ favourite hate figure, pulling the strings behind her. She hidnae been surprised when Donna The Prima Donna hid entered stage left. She’d known that that wis bound tae hiv happened at some stage. And who wis this Pussy Galore? Where the hell did she figure in the great scheme ae things, she wondered. Tony hid warned her aboot other approaches. She’d dismissed his warning at the time, bit noo she couldnae see the sun oan the horizon fur the number ae shadows blocking oot the light, trying tae be her best pal. She’d known Tony Gucci aw her life and she supposed Donna The Prima Donna tae, by association wae her ma. In the world ae the Mankys, especially if ye wur near or in the inner circle, it wid be unthinkable fur a friend no tae help another friend oot in times ae trouble. So far, none ae The Mankys hid approached her tae influence anything they wur up tae. In fact, withoot Tony’s intervention, she knew fine well that she widnae be sitting there watching her boss taking his pencil tae the second page, scoring oot two or three lines this time. Since starting in the job, she’d been determined no tae sell hersel tae the devil fur the sake ae getting the next big scoop. That’s the expression that Donna The Prima Donna hid used. She remembered Mary Marigold telling her aboot the addiction that only good journalists wur afflicted wae…which wis practically prostituting themsels fur the next big story. Wis helping oot The Mankys, her friends, selling her soul tae the devil? She didnae think so, bit
then again, she hidnae been put tae the test by Tony. Hid Mary been in the pocket ae shady people in the background? Probably, bit she didnae think that it wid’ve been fae the dark side. Fae whit she remembered, Mary’s influences hid come via that posh man ae hers, Benson Flaw, the motoring columnist. Behind him wid’ve been the wans that hid always been in control. She looked across at her boss. Wis she any different fae him? Why hid she been so surprised tae find oot that Wan-bob Broon wis behind him…and possibly The McGregors? She’d blurted everything oot tae Tony and Simon o’er breakfast across at The University Café. Insteid ae getting the expected warnings tae be careful or being accused ae being disloyal, they’d jist sat pissing themsels laughing at her. When she’d miserably explained how scared she’d been, hinging aboot doon in the car park in Montrose Street at her meetings wae Pussy Galore, they’d laughed their heids aff, mimicking strangulation scenes fae different movies they’d obviously watched in the past. Wance the serious side ae the business conversation hid run its course, they’d aw started reminiscing aboot the past. Tony hid telt them aboot the time that him, Paul, Joe, Silent and Johnboy hid siphoned aw the petrol fae the tanks ae the cars in the same car park that she’d been hinging aboot in doon in Montrose Street, when they wur weans. He telt them how Paul hid been forced tae set the stolen petrol oan fire in the tin baths where they wur storing it, in wan ae the air-raid shelters, efter The Stalker and Bumper hid discovered whit they wur up tae. Seemingly, the whole air raid shelter hid collapsed wae the heat and they couldnae be charged because the evidence wis buried under fifty tons ae concrete. They’d laughed when she telt them aboot Donna’s rant against everything polis, particularly the female variety. They wur also convinced that it wis Donna who wis behind Pussy Galore, although she wisnae too sure aboot that wan. The maist challenging question fae them, which she couldnae truthfully answer at the time, hid been why she wis so interested in getting justice fur ex poliswummin?

  “Dae ye think somewan like them wid put themsels oot fur somewan like you, if the shoe wis oan the other fit?” Simon hid hit her wae. “Ah mean, ye said so yersel. Where the fuck wis this WPC Shiny Buttons fae Possil coming fae, when she stupidly haunded they letters across tae that Cleopatra wan? Ah mean, how stupid wis that?”