The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4

by Todd, Ian

  “Did ye recognise any ae the assailants, Mr, er, Harris?” Inspector Mack asked, haudin his breath and quietly praying that some names wur aboot tae be forthcoming.

  “Aye, it wis Frisky Frank McKenna, Jo Jo Robson and…Toby Simpson,” Harper replied, looking at his brief nervously as he said Toby Simpson’s name oot loud and clear.

  The two inspectors sat and gawped at him.

  “And, er, the wan that ye said ye saw wielding the weapon…bayonet…the wan that done the actual stabbing?” Inspector Mack asked, still scared tae breathe.

  “It wis Toby Simpson, sir.”

  “Yes!” Inspector Mack whooped, punching the air, as Inspector Dougan looked at Harper, amazed, bit wae a big cheesy grin spread across that coupon ae his.

  “And, er, ye’re prepared tae swear tae this in a court ae law, in front ae a jury, Harp…Mr Harris?” Inspector Mack demanded, failing tae keep his cool.

  “Oh, aye, that’s why Ah’m here. The sight ae that poor young boy, who Ah’ve since found oot wis a bit ae a cabbage, lying there in a pool ae blood, jist turned ma stomach, so it did. A pure dead liberty, so it wis.”

  “So, why did ye no report this sooner, Harp...er, Mr Harris,” Inspector Duggan asked him.

  “Ye know these guys as well as me, Mr Dougan. Ah wis scared shitless. Ah think they saw me as well, because they’ve been looking aw o’er the place fur me ever since. Ye heard aboot that Frisky Frank mentioning ma name, so ye did.”

  “Aye, that’s understandable...ye cannae be blamed fur being feart, efter whit ye saw,” Inspector Dougan acknowledged, nodding.

  “Look, Ah wonder if it wid be possible fur us tae hiv a wee five minute break tae hiv a cup ae tea. Ah kin assure ye, Mr Portoy, yer client will be afforded the highest protection fae the city’s finest. Ah think that it’s extremely important that Ah pass this oan tae ma colleagues, tae implement arrest warrants oan these three bast...er, hoodlums, before news ae yer witness coming forward somehow manages tae reach the street,” Inspector Mack said, staunin up, face flushed wae excitement.

  “Aye, that makes sense, so it dis,” Inspector Dougan agreed, itching tae get oot there tae make sure his boys wur involved in some ae the arrests.

  “A cup of tea would be most appreciated, gentlemen. Take all the time you want. My client isn’t planning on going anywhere,” Graham Portoy replied, wae a smile.

  9.10 A.M.

  “Ah think we’re gonnae miss it,” Johnboy said fae the back seat, as he looked across the expanse ae water ae Hogganfield Loch oan Cumbernauld Road up in Millerston, jist before the turn aff intae Royston Road.

  “Ah’m sure yer maw telt me the service is at hauf nine. If this wanker disnae keep us here aw day, we’ll make it tae the graveside,” Tony said, trying tae lug in tae whit the bizzy wis saying tae Pat.

  “Ah feel really bad aboot Freckles, so Ah dae,” Johnboy admitted, as the sound ae cars whizzed past them.

  “Aye, there wis a fair turnoot at his funeral oan Wednesday. It’s a pity youse pair ae plonkers lost a week’s remission or ye could’ve been there,” Tony muttered, fae the passenger seat in front.

  “Fuck, ye should’ve heard me cursing him efter getting that first pass-note aboot Joe and then hearing nothing efter that.”

  “Aye, well, Ah widnae worry aboot that…we’ve goat a lot mair things tae worry aboot noo, so we hiv,” Tony murmured.

  “Dae ye think it’s worked, Tony?”

  “Ah’m no sure, bit if Tam and that social worker he’s been perching oan ur oan time, as Harper swore they’d be, then the earth is definitely gonnae move fur the baith ae them this morning, so it is,” he replied wae a chuckle.

  “Whit did ye dae wae the cars and the gear then?” Silent asked oot ae the blue, as Tony and Johnboy smiled, looking at each other.

  “Snappy and Ben took the cars straight doon tae Greasy Jake’s, right efter we goat drapped aff this morning and Peter nipped roond tae the boiler hoose up at the swimming baths and stuffed the GPO sacks, wae oor gear, in the back ae the boiler before auld Jules started his shift. If only he knew whit we stuff in that thing efter he sets it up at night, ready tae fire it up first thing in the morning, eh?” Tony replied, glancing oot ae the windae tae see whit PC Plod wis up tae.

  Even though it wis Hogmanay, there wisnae gonnae be the usual celebrations doon at Jonah’s that night. Everywan hid agreed that it wid be better tae keep oot ae sight. Joe’s funeral wid be the ideal cover as an excuse fur them no tae be oot and aboot if the bizzies ever questioned them oan their lack ae visibility. Who could argue wae that? Efter the funeral, The Mankys hid decided tae heid across tae Pat’s pad, so that Johnboy and Silent could catch up wae them. Johnboy hid decided that him and Silent wid go and try tae get a new pad later in the day. The baith ae them wid spend the bells up at his ma and da’s hoose in Carlisle Street and probably the next few days, tae let the dust settle.

  “Er, excuse me, officer, bit we’ve goat a funeral tae go tae,” Johnboy said, efter rolling doon his windae.

  “And Ah’ve goat a job tae dae,” PC Shiny Buttons growled, writing doon Pat’s registration number in his wee black book.

  9.15 A.M

  Alison Crawford stepped oot ae her wee Austin Mini, efter checking her make-up in the mirror oan her sun visor. Her feet wur freezing as she’d arrived earlier than she hid intended. The flow ae cars fae Bishopbriggs hidnae been bad…probably because ae the weather and the fact that it wis Hogmanay and people widnae be at work...unlike social workers, she thought tae herself. She wis relieved that Thomas wis oan time when she saw him park up his Mercedes. He’d phoned her at work oan Monday, earlier in the week, even though he knew he wisnae supposed tae, tae let her know that he’d been up tae the flat and hid managed tae work oot how tae set the central heating thermostat tae come oan at eight o’clock in the morning. She felt the familiar tingle ripple through her body at the thought ae whit wis aboot tae happen jist a few short steps in front ae her. When they baith entered through the bottom door ae the closemooth and it closed o’er behind them, they fell intae each other’s erms.

  “Oh, Thomas,” she panted.

  “Alison, ma baby doll,” Tam Simpson growled gruffly, planting his lips oan hers.

  9.18 A.M

  Jim Masson tiptoed tae the row ae coat hooks in the lobby, where his jaicket wis hinging up. He wis chuffed wae himsel that he’d managed tae avoid staunin oan the uncarpeted creaky flairboard that hid been getting oan his tits the day before, efter himsel and Agnes, alang wae their new-born baby hid moved intae their first hame thegither. They’d been saving up, like a pair ae misers, since 1965 and hid finally, at long last, managed tae put doon enough ae a deposit oan the flat, in wan ae the nicest parts ae High Possil. Tae be oan the safe side, he’d spoken tae a polis sergeant pal ae his, Shane Priestly, aboot the area, before they’d eventually signed oan the dotted line. Shane, who’d been helping him and Agnes flit by trooping back and forward the previous two weeks wae boxes ae dishes and glass, hid assured him that the area oan that side ae Balmore Road wis practically crime-free and that ye could leave yer door unlocked at night and everything wid still be there when ye goat up in the morning. He cocked his ear fur a second. There wisnae a cheep tae be heard, apart fae Agnes hivving a wee snore tae hersel through in the bedroom and the sound ae footsteps coming up the stairwell and stoapping at the door oan the other side ae the landing. He considered waiting until his neighbours hid gone intae their flat opposite, bit decided nae tae bother. He wid hiv tae meet them sometime. Why no get it o’er and done wae, he thought tae himsel, as he turned the haundle oan the Yale lock and opened his front door.

  At that precise moment, Tam Simpson turned the key in his door and pushed it open, as Alison stood behind him, giggling, her erms wrapped roond his hips, baith hauns clamped oan that crotch ae his. Fur a split second, Tam realised something wis wrang, before the front ae his face and heid exploded and his brains splattered across the door frame and the face ae his new neighbour, Jim
Masson, oan the other side ae the landing. By the time Jim managed tae get back up and oan tae they feet ae his, his face dripping wae blood and brain matter, he couldnae made up his mind if he should run and help the distressed wummin, who’d awready picked hersel up fae under the body and who wis noo staunin in the middle ae the landing, screaming like a banshee, wae baith hauns clasped tae her neck, trying tae stem the blood spurting oot ae it, or turn and comfort his screaming, wailing wife, who wis staunin wae their baby howling in her erms in the doorway behind him. He wisnae a medical expert, bit even wae the ringing in his ears and the noisy commotion that wis gaun oan roond aboot him, he knew fine well that the guy withoot hauf ae his heid, lying spread-eagled oan his back, wae his legs twitching and his erms ootstretched in the middle ae the landing, wis a goner.

  9.29 A.M.

  Inspector Duggie Dougan wis making his way back tae the interview room, efter dispatching The Gruesome Twosome, in the shape ae Shane Priestly and Dave McGovern, wae three PCs as back-up, up tae Jo Jo Robson’s hoose tae arrest him. Efter arresting Robson, they wur tae heid back tae the station wae the prisoner, tae pick him up before heiding up tae Toby Simpson’s hoose in Killearn Street tae repeat the process. Duggie hid been quick oan his feet and hid phoned Chic Taylor across in Springburn tae get somewan up tae Stobhill tae put the cuffs oan Frisky Frank McKenna. He wis quite chuffed wae himsel. He knew he hid tae get in there quick before Bobby Mack’s boys arrived aheid ae them and took aw the credit. Chic hid been o’er the moon and hid promised tae see him awright in the future. He wis jist reaching oot fur the haundle ae the interview room when his desk sergeant, Tam Mitchell, shouted him back.

  “We’ve jist taken a call aboot a shooting up a close at number 36 Hillend Road, up in High Possil, sir.”

  “A shooting? Up there?”

  “Aye.”

  “Whit? Is it a domestic?”

  “Ah’m no sure, sir.”

  “Is there a fatality?”

  “Ah’m no sure, sir. There’s an ambulance oan it’s way though.”

  “Well, fur fuck’s sake, Tam, see if ye kin find somewan tae respond. Kin ye no see there’s a lot gaun oan and Ah’m in an important murder interview, so Ah am?” The Inspector growled in exasperation, before heiding aff back tae the interview room, where Harper and his brief wur waiting tae continue wae the interview.

  9.35 A.M.

  The Stalker held oan grimly as Bumper overtook two cars and a lorry as they sped up Balgrayhill Road, heiding fur Stobhill. He knew it wis pointless telling Bumper tae slow doon. Bumper didnae gie a shit aboot The Stalker’s fear ae dying and carried oan hell-fur-leather, bells clanging and blue light flashing. The Stalker knew he hidnae been tae mass in yonks, bit hoped that God understood the situation, seeing as he worked aw sorts ae shitey shifts that didnae always fit in wae gaun tae confession. The last time he’d gone and confessed aw, Father John hid basically telt him in no so many words that he needed tae stoap skulking aboot the back courts ae the tenements at night, using his job as a cover and tae get back tae attending mass mair often and tae keep that haun ae his aff ae his bellheid. The shame and embarrassment inflicted oan him by the priest’s insinuations hid hid the opposite effect and he hidnae been tae confession fur a good while noo.

  “Here we ur, Paddy!” Bumper shouted in excitement, slamming oan the brakes. The car slid forward erratically in front ae the Accident and Emergency entrance before coming tae a stoap, hard up against the crumpled back bumper ae a taxi. They practically bumped intae Frisky Frank as they entered the hospital. Frank, alang wae a wee weasel called Willie Squeeze, who wis humphing Frisky’s bag behind him, stoapped deid in their tracks when they clocked The Stalker and Bumper stomping through the doors.

  “Look, Ah gie in, boys. Ah promise, Ah’ll stay well clear ae Springburn fae noo oan, honest.”

  “Francis McKenna, Ah’m arresting ye oan suspicion ae murder. Anything ye dae say may be taken doon and held against ye in a court ae law. Ye hiv the right tae remain silent, so ye hiv,” Bumper informed the astonished Frisky Frank.

  “Bit, bit...”

  “And you, ya wee weasel ye, get tae fuck, bit leave that bag here wae me,” The Stalker barked at Willie.

  10.10 A.M

  “Dae ye think that’s them o’er there?” Pat asked, nodding tae the big crowd across tae their left, as he crawled through the gates ae the cemetery oan Keppochill Road.

  “Aye. Ah kin see Pearl Campbell’s red hair sticking oot like a sore thumb in amongst the rest ae the lassies,” Johnboy said, leaning forward and peering between the two front seats.

  Johnboy hid been surprised tae find oot that Joe’s funeral wis oan the day ae his and Silent’s release.

  “Aye, they held oan until youse two could attend,” Tony hid said earlier, efter Johnboy hid goat in the car.

  “Really?” Johnboy hid asked.

  “Johnboy, don’t listen tae him. It wis supposed tae be Wednesday, bit the gravediggers wur oan strike, so they wur,” Pat hid said.

  “At least it meant Ah could attend Freckles cremation up in Lambhill and get a chance tae talk tae Wan-bob,” Tony hid said.

  As soon as Pat parked the car behind the hearse, they went and joined the rest ae The Mankys and the lassies, who wur aw staunin bubbling. Johnboy ended up staunin between Senga Jackson oan his left and Pearl Campbell oan his right. The baith ae them held oan tae his erms. He looked aboot. There wis a fair crowd ae the aulder wans. Joe’s ma, Issie and his da, Tam, wur in a bit ae a state. They baith clung oan tae Joe’s wee sister, Wee Mary. Johnboy caught his ain ma’s eye, staunin in amongst aw the anti-warrant sales brigade. She gied him a wee nod and hauf a smile. He looked at the minister, bit didnae really hear much ae whit he wis saying. He thought he wis seeing things. There, oan the other side ae the coffin, jist behind Johnboy’s ma, stood Tam Simpson’s ma, wae a bunch ae flowers in her haun. Senga wis hivving a bubbling break, so he bent doon and whispered in her ear.

  “Is that Tam Simpson’s ma across there,” he asked in a low whisper.

  “Whit? Oh, er, aye.”

  “Whit the fuck is she daeing here?”.

  “Why ur ye asking that? Kate and Joe loved each other,” she hissed back.

  Although he couldnae see it fur the parked hearse, Kate Simpson’s grave wis jist oan the opposite side ae the path fae where they wur aw huddled up wae the icy wind battering aff ae everywan. He wondered if putting them so close thegither hid been planned. If it wis, nae doubt that ma ae his wid probably hiv hid a haun in it, he thought wryly. He looked across at Mrs Simpson.

  “Fuck, is she in fur a shock when she goes hame,” he murmured.

  “Whit?” Baith Senga and Pearl asked, looking at him.

  “Ah said, whit a shame.”

  “Aye, Ah know,” Pearl said, as baith the lassies started weeping again.

  10.25 A.M

  Jack Broon, Scottish Prisons’ Manager lifted up the receiver and pressed a button. He loved being the bearer ae good news.

  “Ah, Margaret, could ye please get George Crawford, the Assistant Governor ae Polmont, oan the telephone fur me, please?”

  “Yes, sir, straight away.”

  He drummed his fingers oan the desk while he waited, humming a wee military band tune, before being interrupted at his favourite bit.

  “Aye, Margaret?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, bit the AG is presently daeing his roonds ae the halls and won’t be back in his office fur at least hauf an hour.”

  “Right, nae problem, Margaret. Please try him again in hauf an hour. Ah’ll be in ma office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  10.30 A.M

  Daddy Jackson wisnae too sure whether he should nip up tae Possil or anchor where he wis. It wis a fluid situation and he wis waiting fur confirmation oan whit the score wis. He’d a bad feeling in the pit ae that stomach ae his. He’d been sitting oan the panel ae the booze hijack press conference, where Mickey Sherlock hid announced three arrests and possibly mair tae follow,
efter the successful conclusion ae the booze sting. Assistant Chief Constable Jack Tipples and two chief superintendents, Bob Mackerel and Sam Bison, hid also been squatting oan the platform, beaming like a pair ae auld floozies that hid jist goat their Nat King fur the first time in twenty years and who couldnae believe their luck because they hidnae hid tae pay fur it. Aw the TV news channel people wur there wae their camera men alang wae the hacks fae the city’s main papers, like Swinton Maclean fae The Evening Times, Harold Sliver fae The Evening Express and The Glesga Echo’s new weapon, Mary Marigold, the paper’s first female investigative crime reporter. Daddy hid jist been thinking it wis such a pity that she didnae hiv the paps tae go wae they long legs ae hers, while Jack, who liked a good tipple ae malt himsel, hid been prattling oan aboot how good the polis aw wur, when Billy Liar hid slipped oot fae the back ae the curtain behind Daddy and passed him a note. Efter reading whit it said, he’d wanted tae shout oot tae everywan tae furget the shite that Jack wis dribbling and tae listen tae whit he hid tae say, bit he’d kept calm, like the true professional that he wis. Insteid, he’d passed the note across tae Jack, jist as he wis finishing his diatribe against the city’s gangsters and how they wur aw gonnae get caught soon. Daddy hid suppressed his yearning tae grin when he saw Jack’s grey bushy eyebrows shooting up as he read the note.

  “And that, gentlemen...and lady, concludes this part of the press conference. However, I believe Superintendent Jackson of our North Division has further information on another matter that may be of interest to you all,” he’d announced, nodding tae Daddy, as the attention in the room switched tae him.

  “Ah’d jist like tae inform ye aw, that two suspects wur arrested by officers fae the North Division ae Possil and Springburn, within the last hauf an hour, fur the murder ae eighteen-year-auld Joseph McManus. Young Mr McManus, as ye’ll probably aw know, wis stabbed tae death oan Gourlay Street, Springburn, oan the night ae the seventeenth ae December. Local polis in Possil and Springburn, alang wae Inspector Bobby Mack fae the city’s murder squad, hiv been working tirelessly, in gathering intelligence and evidence that his led tae these arrests. Ah kin further inform ye that an arrest warrant his been issued fur the apprehension ae a further suspect, and that an arrest is imminent.”