Paying For It gd-1

by Tony Black

  ‘Shut your lairy little hole.’

  ‘Will you do it yourself? Can see you in a set of Marigold gloves. Have you got a tabard too?’

  He stood back from me, panting. He showed his bottom teeth. London had borrowed this look from Lenny McLean, the Guv’nor, but he was no bare-knuckle fighter. A few good jabs would put him to bed. He looked like every filth I’d ever known, could only handle a fight with the odds stacked in his favour. It’s the old story all over. Weak fucks join up because they know it’s their best chance of getting on a winning side.

  A green light flashed above the door and London straightened his back.

  ‘That you off then?’ I said.

  He pulled back his arm, a fist hovered in the air.

  I smiled at him. I felt the blood squelching. I’d lost some teeth. But I felt no sense of defeat, and he saw this. I’d taken the best he had to offer and I still smiled.

  London lowered his fist, saw I wasn’t worth the energy.

  ‘You’re fukhin’ mental, d’you know that?’ he said.

  ‘Whatever — the green light’s flashing. Time to get the kettle on for the DCs.’

  He looked at me like I was seriously tapped.

  ‘Proper mental, that’s what you are.’

  My smile sat in place as I threw back my head and roared with laughter. Quite a victory, it felt good. Bring on round two.

  For an hour they left me to my own devices. Then brought in a bucket of water and a scrubbing brush.

  ‘Clean this shit up,’ a lad in uniform told me, must have been twenty tops, hair still parted with his mother’s spit.

  I walked to the bucket and kicked it over. ‘Bite me.’

  Uniform didn’t know what to do. Walked out, leaving the bucket behind him.

  Inside a minute two gut-huge inspectors appeared. They took an arm each and dragged me out the door.

  Together they said, ‘Walk.’

  They took me to another cell. Table and chairs, camera in the corner.

  ‘Sit.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ I knew they were the real deal. I also knew I’d already been through the worst. From here on in, we got down to the meat and potatoes.

  ‘Gus Dury,’ said the heavier of the two, Markies shirt, Farah trousers and a Freddie Mercury tache.

  ‘That’s what they call me.’

  ‘Lose the fucking attitude.’

  I leaned forward, said, ‘Lose the fucking tone, you’ve nothing on me. Whereas I’ve a delightful tale of police brutality to splash over the papers tomorrow.’

  They both laughed. Looked at each other, I expected back slapping.

  ‘Who’d print anything from a piss-wet old soak like you, Dury?’

  The second doughnut-muncher stood up. He looked about five-eight in his comfortable Clarks shoes that squeaked on every step. ‘We have a stack of witnesses to your resisting arrest, Mr Dury. I’d recommend you cooperate, it’s to your advantage.’

  ‘Christ almighty. Spare me the good cop bad cop routine, eh?’

  Silence. Then: ‘Cigarette?’ said Clarks shoes.

  ‘Silk Cut?’

  ‘I’m cutting back.’

  ‘Have you no real fags?’

  The pack went down. I picked out a tab, the cop lit me up.

  ‘Like a breath of fresh air,’ I said.

  ‘That’s how I’m hoping this, shall we say advice, will greet you, Mr Dury.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘Stay away from Mr Zalinskas.’

  ‘Am I hearing right?’

  The cop with the tache leaned forward, banged on the table. ‘I’m warning you, you’ll take this-’

  ‘Is that what you say to your men friends? You charmer.’

  He had to be held back after that, it was like Hill Street Blues all over.

  ‘Mr Dury, I’d take my partner’s advice.’

  ‘Partner, so that’s how it is. Tell me this, I’ve always wondered, is it better to give than to receive?’

  Moustache got out his seat again, managed to land a slap on my face. ‘You cheeky pup, I’ll hang you the fuck out to dry, do you hear me?’

  ‘Reg, Reg… control yourself.’

  ‘Och, I’m fucking through with this.’

  ‘Reg…’

  He headed for the door. ‘Dury, I swear to Christ, you’ll be in the Forth if I hear your name in the same breath as Benny Zalinskas’ again.’

  He left.

  ‘Excitable chap your partner.’

  ‘I wouldn’t treat his advice so glibly. Mr Zalinskas is a very influential person in this city.’

  ‘With both criminals and the police, I see.’

  ‘Mr Dury, please…’

  ‘Please? Fuck off. What’s he got on you? Some pictures of you two fags in flagrante delicto?’

  A shake of the head. ‘I can see you’re going to cause us some trouble, Mr Dury. I’m very sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Oh, I bet you are.’

  ‘I’m prepared to ignore your actions on this occasion. Put them down to, shall we say, misplaced chutzpah.’

  I laughed.

  ‘But, I can assure you, if we have cause to speak again, you will regret it — most assuredly you will.’

  42

  I spent the next twenty-four hours in a cell. When they let me go I got handed a polythene bag holding my watch, wallet, phone and some change.

  Guy on the front desk said, ‘That’ll be you off to get hammered.’

  I’d never seen him before. ‘What?’

  ‘The booze is oozing out of you.’ He shook his head, slammed closed the black diary he’d been writing in, said, ‘Fucking alkies.’

  On the way out the door, I started to shiver. My mouth felt like an open wound. Missing teeth catching the cold air of morning. I had managed a hundred yards when I heard my name spoken under breath.

  ‘Gus — Gus, over here,’ was called out from a dark vennel along from the police station.

  I looked about. I wasn’t keen to venture into more trouble.

  ‘Gus, come here, would ya?’

  I recognised the voice this time. Tried to make it look casual as I walked into the narrow street.

  ‘Christ, Fitz, this is a bit close to home for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘I had to grab you.’

  ‘Why? What’s wrong with the caff?’

  ‘Why do you think? You’re a marked man, Dury. By the Christ, aren’t ye ever!’

  I let out a sigh. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

  Fitz eyeballed me. ‘Jaysus, they did some job on ye boyo. Was Rambo, no doubt.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘London fellah. Built like a brick shithouse. He came up here about six months ago, playing the Big I Am, so he was. No one was afraid of him, mind. Christ, haven’t we Celts been sending them home to think again for long enough?’

  ‘Yeah, sounds like him.’

  ‘Ah, he’s a gobshite, I wouldn’t sweat over him.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Arrah, I wouldn’t give the likes of him the steam off my piss.’

  I saw Fitz had a personal animus for this cop, but knew he hadn’t pulled me up to have a wee office bitch. ‘Fitz, did you have something for me?’

  ‘Have I ever.’

  ‘Well, let’s hear it.’

  ‘I’ve done a bit of digging about, like you said I should.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘You were right. If vice are interested in Benny Zalinskas, I’ve started taking it up the Gary Glitter.’

  ‘So someone was feeding you a cover story. Who?’

  ‘Not so fast, Dury. Remind me why I should tell you anything?’

  I had Fitz on side, that much seemed clear. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t make me work for any information he had.

  ‘Because, Fitz, when this blows, you’re the main beneficiary and you know it,’ I said. ‘I won’t bullshit you about being a good cop and doing right. Fuck, I know you’re as bad as the rest. This is your
chance to settle some old scores. Think of all those bastards who laughed at you when you hit the slide. Give me the name behind this and I’ll make sure the ship sinks. All you need to do is get in the lifeboat when I give you the nod.’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Fitz, let’s put Billy’s death aside for a minute. There’s one thing you can tell me that means nothing to anyone except me.’

  ‘The old fellah?’

  ‘I need to know what happened to Milo.’

  Fitz took off his hat, smoothed down his crown. ‘I’m afraid, that’s one you’ll never get to the bottom of.’

  ‘There’s a connection. You know it, and I sure as hell know it.’

  ‘I’m not saying there isn’t, but it could well have been an accident that got covered up. Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have — these people cover their tracks, it’s what they do.’

  ‘So, that’s it? Another fucking suicide verdict.’

  ‘Misadventure, is the term,’ said Fitz, as he looked to the sky.

  The urge for justice and revenge ratcheted up inside me.

  ‘Who’re the two bufties in there, bloke with a moustache and his soft-shoe shuffling mate?’

  ‘Matching beer guts?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That’s Collins and Roberts. Why?’

  ‘They’ve promised me a second round. I need to get moving on this or I’m finished. It’s now or never, Fitz.’

  He peered into the street, took his hands out of his police-issue overcoat, pointed at me. ‘I swear by the Holy Mother, if this comes back to haunt me, I’ll cut yer throat.’

  I’d had so many threats lately one more wasn’t going to scare me. ‘Scout’s honour.’

  ‘There’s a racket — you know about that.’

  ‘The girls from Eastern Europe.’

  ‘Yes. But it goes deeper than you can imagine.’

  I’d seen so much already. It would have to be something to beat a wolf in a glass cage, but I played along, said, ‘Try me.’

  ‘Billy had been, oh… what’s the word, procuring girls for some of the top brass.’

  ‘Police — the Chief Constable?’

  Fitz, raised his eyebrows. ‘Higher than that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I tell you, when this comes out, heads will more than roll.’

  I wasn’t convinced. As if this kind of thing hadn’t been going on for ever. I couldn’t believe Billy got offed because he had some top-flight customers. Public execution just wasn’t their style.

  ‘Who is it, Fitz?’

  He wiped his face. ‘I don’t know yet.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a conspiracy of silence. There’s names being thrown about like you would not believe, but no one’s putting their finger on it. I’ve got it narrowed down all right.’

  ‘To where?’

  Fitz took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds. ‘The First Minister’s Cabinet.’

  43

  I went back to the Wall and showered. Tried to keep the spray on my mouth for as long as I could bear. The pain seared my gums. Burns knew what he was talking about when he wrote of ‘the venom’d stang that shoots tortured gums alang’.

  I hit the painkillers. Double-strength jobs, two fiery arrows on the pack to emphasise the point. As I waited for them to kick in I dressed. Faded cords from the late eighties. We’d been through a lot together but they’d held in there. Lost a few belt loops and carried some sheen on the arse and knees. But I wasn’t trying to make any statement with them, other than, ‘Hey I’m comfortable, get over it.’ Finished the look off with an old grey Levi’s sweatshirt, soft as down. It sat under a blue checked lumberjack shirt, what the Seattle Sub Pop guys called ‘a flannel’.

  I checked myself in the mirror. I looked like a Nirvana roadie. Then I opened my mouth. Nup, I looked like a Redneck, some trailer trash from the Georgia woods. I heard the cries of Ned Beatty in Deliverance, as the hillbilly shouted, ‘Scream like a pig, boy.’

  I was out of gel. Most of my day-to-day stuff was at Hod’s, but I didn’t want to put in an appearance there until I’d checked in again with Col. I knew Amy would stick about there and I didn’t want her to see me with missing teeth and a set of racoon eyes. I’d already fired off a quick text, just to let her know they’d let me out, but I needed to switch off my phone afterwards. She was in safe hands with Hod, but had become more of a worry to me now.

  I ran my fingers through the few strands of hair that sat up on the top of my head. Could do with cropping I thought. Maybe make a trip to see Mac again. He might still have the shooter, after all.

  I tried to down a pint of water, but the effort was too much. I needed alcohol to stop my nerves rattling. This felt like the longest period I’d been without my drug of choice for at least three years.

  I needed to go on a skite. Picked out all the familiar indicators. The room closed in on me. I paced up and down. Visualised a row of creamy pints lined up on a bar. My mouth dried over.

  It’s always been about breaking the monotony for me. The skite’s just a purge. Life piles up, you get fed up, and so you go out and try to change everything. That’s where the alcohol helps. You want to be a different person, you want to blow your world up. And for a little while, alcohol lets you believe this is possible. Time stops as you rattle from pub to pub in an alcoholic haze. Slowly, the world as you know it ceases to exist. You’ve broken the cycle, you’re off the trodden path. It’s what it’s all about, keeping normality at bay. For a little while anyway.

  The next day it’s like being woken by a ghost when shame settles on you. You wonder why you did it. Fear the consequences. Fear you’ll do it again. But, you’ve broken that cycle of boredom. And no matter how much you abhor the person staring back at you from the mirror, you know you’ll do it again because it works like a charm.

  I strolled down to the bar. Col polished glasses with a small towel. ‘Holy Mother of God, what’s happened to you?’

  I waved him off, said, ‘Pint. Chaser.’

  The old gadgie with the drinker’s nose stood in place, smelling of piss, he approached me and spoke: ‘Howya doing, pal?’

  ‘You still here? Becoming a bit of a fixture.’

  ‘Better than a bit of a prick.’

  I’d no comment on that.

  Col placed my drinks down in front of me. ‘On the house.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  I drank deep. Belted back the chaser.

  ‘Man, that’s a thirst and a half,’ said the gadgie.

  I felt in no mood for conversation, said, ‘Is that piss I smell?’

  He got the hint, said, ‘When you get to my age, no matter how much you shake, the last drop always ends up in your pants. Remember that.’

  Dumbfounded, I watched him walk off and take a seat at someone else’s table.

  ‘What’s happening to the clientele?’ I asked Col.

  ‘He’s a lost soul.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’

  Col flicked the bar towel over his shoulder. ‘You look like you’ve had an accident.’

  My mouth was too occupied to reply. I motioned to the empty shot glass, sunk back the pint.

  ‘Would you like another?’ said Col.

  ‘Would I ever.’

  He poured out a Famous Grouse, left the bottle on the bar.

  ‘Have you eaten lately?’

  ‘I’ve been a bit… preoccupied.’

  ‘If this case is proving too much-’

  I slammed down the glass. ‘No. Col, everything’s fine.’

  ‘That’s clearly not so, Gus. You’ve been beaten, badly beaten. What’s going on?’

  I filled my glass up, right to the brim.

  ‘Let’s grab a seat. I’ve something to tell you.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, I, eh… well, you might not like what I have to say.’

  Col called over to his part-timer, told her to mind the bar. She popped out a Hubba Bubba
bubble, teetering on heels as she walked over.

  ‘We’ll take the snug, I think.’

  ‘Would be best.’

  44

  ‘ You want to get those teeth seen to, Gus.’

  ‘What teeth? They’re all knocked out.’

  ‘Have you a dentist?’

  Christ, a dentist. The days of me having a regular dentist, doctor or gym membership sounded like a lifetime ago.

  ‘Debs used to look after all that kind of thing. No, I don’t have a dentist.’

  ‘I’ll give you the number of mine. He’s good, a German fellah, very good.’

  I drew on the Grouse. Felt like it heated my soul, had forgotten how much I actually enjoyed a Low Flying Birdie.

  ‘So, you said you had something to tell me.’

  I put down the glass. ‘I do, yeah.’

  Col sat quietly, closed his fingers together. I’d never noticed before, for such a gentle guy, his hands were huge.

  ‘It’s all got a bit more… complicated.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘It seems Billy was up to his neck in more than I first imagined.’

  ‘I knew it.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘How that boy could have done this to his poor mother, I’ll never know.’

  I hadn’t even told Col what I knew and already he’d fired up.

  ‘But, Col, we don’t know the extent of Billy’s involvement yet.’

  ‘Gus, I raised him. I know my boy.’

  I waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be finished. I took up the story as I knew it. Mentioned all I’d found out. It seemed to me Col’s eyes glazed over. I wondered if he really did want to know the whole truth behind Billy’s death.

  ‘Col, is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, fine — why do you ask?’

  ‘You seem a bit distant, that’s all.’

  He shook himself, unclasped his hands. ‘I’m sorry. What you said the last time we spoke has, well — you know… it upset me a bit, I guess.’

  I flattened my tone, said, ‘I told you, right at the start, Col, you don’t go digging like this without unearthing a few skeletons.’

  ‘I know. I know. It’s been hard to believe, though. He was my son. To hear he was involved in the likes of this — it hits you here.’ Col thumped on his chest. ‘I just want this concluded for his mother’s sake. Nothing else matters. She must know how it ended, she needs to see why Billy went the way he did.’