by Todd, Ian
“Right, boss,” Happy smiled, shutting the door behind him.
The Stalker lifted the buff-coloured folder oot ae the drawer ae his desk and placed it in front ae him. While it wisnae exactly up there in phone book thickness terms, he wis surprised at how thick it wis fur somewan who he thought hidnae much form. He’d wanted tae hiv a wee squint ae it earlier, bit hid goat caught up in the commotion at the front desk, efter arriving back fae Central an hour earlier. Everything hid been straightforward enough. He’d phoned doon tae the records section and asked if he could get his hauns oan the file ae a Mrs Helen Taylor, nee Ferguson, Carlisle Street, Springburn, and naw, he didnae hiv her close number, bit previous addresses included Murray and Montrose Streets in the Toonheid.
“Whit ur ye wanting it fur?” a cheeky auld hag hid asked him.
“Because Ah’m investigating her, that’s whit fur,” he’d said, snarling doon the phone.
“Is that a previous conviction record or an intelligence file?”
“Er, previous record...naw, intelligence.”
“Make up yer mind. Whit is it?”
“Ah’ve jist telt ye...intelligence.”
“Well, ye’ll need tae come doon here, so ye will. Ye’re no allowed tae take files oot ae the main building, so ye’re no. Springburn, ye said?”
“Aye, Springburn.”
“When ur ye wanting it?”
“Ah’ll be doon in the next fifteen minutes.”
“Ah’ll need a coonter signature.”
“Fur Christ’s sakes, this isnae the Kremlin by any chance, is it?”
“Nae coonter signature, nae file.”
He’d hid tae phone Billy Liar. Thankfully, Billy hidnae asked any questions, bit jist telt him that he could pick it up fae the desk.
“Bit, some auld fascist hairy telt me Ah couldnae take it oot ae the building,” he’d said.
“Aye, well, Ah’ll sort that oot. It’ll be oan the front desk by the time ye get here…bit mind and sign the docket,” he’d reminded him, and wae that, hid hung up.
Billy clearly hid other things oan his mind wae the screaming front-page heidline in that morning's Echo, the low-lives that they wur. By the time he’d arrived back, pandemonium hid erupted at the front doors ae the station. A flasher hid been oan the loose in the area since November. His favourite flashing times hid been first thing in the mornings when aw the local sales assistants wur opening up jist before nine o’clock. Since maist ae the wans opening up the shoaps fur the day's business wur usually wummin, he’d been daeing the roonds. Some mornings he’d be flashing up at the Hawthorn Street end ae Springburn Road, while at other times, he’d be doon as far as Petershill Road. His dress mode never seemed tae change. Broon slip-on shoes, two trooser legs tied below each knee wae whit hid been reported tae be broon shoelaces. Fae the knees up tae his waist, he wis bare-arsed, then above that, a striped shirt and broon tie. O’er aw this, hiding his shame when he wis incognito, he wore a long broon gabardine coat. By aw accounts, he’d a tadger that resembled an elephant’s trunk, or as wan ae his victims, wee Nettie MacKay reported, “It’s the kind ae thing that keeps ye awake at night, jist thinking aboot it, so it is. Wance seen, never furgoatten.”
The only time Brownie hid slipped up hid been when wan ae the local wummin hid come oot ae Sherbet’s shoap wan foggy morning, up in Kendrick’s Street, jist before Christmas.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” he’d shouted, swinging his hips, groovy style, as he exposed that big swinging walloper ae his, wae his coat held wide open.
Unfortunately, fur him, she hidnae been oan her lonesome and hid set her big Alsatian dug oan tae him. He’d tried tae make a dash fur it, bit Attila hid been efter him in a flash. Because ae the foggy morning, she’d jist heard his screams and the shredding ae the coat being ripped aff ae that back ae his, in amongst the mist at the tap ae the street. The Stalker’s previous inspector, Chic Thompson, hid put oot teams, strategically placed throughoot the area, hoping tae nab him. That plan hid been scuppered when a group ae wummin in the area hid set up vigilante groups who’d been touring the streets in the mornings, tooled up wae rolling pins, frying pans and pots, looking fur any poor basturt that happened tae be heiding tae their work wearing a coat. There hid been a few close shaves and the boys fae the station hid hid tae jump in and rescue a few innocents. Since the New Year, because ae the vigilantes, the flasher hid changed his modus operandi fae the mornings and hid started tae pop up, or should that be pop oot, at different times ae the day. This hid made the pavement pounders’ job ae catching him even harder. His grand finale hid been at quarter past eleven that morning ootside a fruit shoap, across fae Sellyn’s, oan Springburn Road. No only hid he been clocked enticing Mary Lennon tae come and hiv a swatch ae his big boy, bit he’d also been spotted at the same time by Glesga’s answer tae the Rough Riders. Efter gieing chase, they’d managed tae corner him at the far end ae Kay street. He’d tried tae heid fur the entrance ae the public baths, bit the wummin inside, serving behind the kiosk, who must’ve been an aff duty Rough Rider, hid clocked whit wis happening and hid nipped oot and slammed the door shut in his face. As Kay Street wis a deid end, he’d been well and truly goosed. The screaming banshees hid ladled intae him wae everything bit the kitchen sink. Hope and Glory, alang wae Bumper, hid nearly goat themsels killed trying tae rescue him, bit hid eventually goat him intae the back ae a Black Maria, before speeding aff tae the sound ae pots and pans thumping aff the side ae it. Insteid ae taking him straight doon tae Central or across tae The Marine in Partick, the stupid basturts hid taken him roond the corner tae the polis station. By the time The Stalker hid arrived oan the scene, everywan in the station hid been oot in the reception wae batons drawn and the fire hose at the ready. It hid taken him a full hauf hour tae calm the situation doon and tae get rid ae the hairy vigilantes. Wance inside, the flasher hid been checked o’er fur any lasting damage. The Stalker hidnae seen it fur himsel, bit by aw accounts, the wummin wurnae lying.
“Fuck, it’s the size ae a lumberjack’s erm, so it is,” Bumper hid exclaimed, jealous as fuck.
When asked where he’d goat aw the bite marks tae his arse and back, the bampot hid claimed they wur love bites. Happy Harry hid been in the process ae booking him fur indecent exposure by the time The Stalker hid, at last, been able tae return tae his office, tae read Helen Taylor’s intelligence file. He swithered whether tae pick up the smashed pieces ae the clock, bit couldnae be arsed getting up oot ae his chair. He picked up the mug ae tea that he’d left tae cool doon. He blew the steam fae the tap ae it before taking a sip.
“Arrgghhh, lovely,” he sighed in satisfaction, as he flipped open the folder.
He started fae the beginning, and casually flipped through the sheaths ae paper, stoapping every noo and again when something caught his interest. Helen Taylor, an only child, hid been born a Catholic oan the 12th ae July, 1926, up a close at number 8 Murray Street, Toonheid. That wid be jist opposite Rattray’s the bike factory, The Stalker remembered, hivving pounded the pavements ae the Toonheid oan many a cauld night. Her maw hid been in service tae Sir Frank and Lady Owen, newspaper proprietors, o’er in Queen Margaret Drive in the West End ae the city and her da hid been a drayman fur Barr’s, the ginger people.
“So, that wid make ye forty four noo, Helen,” The Stalker mused oot loud.
There wisnae much mair oan the maw and da, bit the file did detail the activities ae the auntie, Jeannie Smullen, the maw’s twin sister. He picked up the auld yellowing Special Branch sheet, dated November 1938. It informed him that Jeannie hid been a street agitator fae an early age and a member ae the Independent Labour Party, as well as The Communist Party ae Great Britain. She’d been an early and active member ae the Glesga Wummin’s Hoosing Association, under the influence ae some other like-minded wummin, and wan in particular...a Mary Barbour. The report went oan tae detail the activities ae the hoosing association and the springing up ae similar associations aw o’er the city. The association
s wur influential in fanning the flames ae discontent amongst tenants, that hid eventually led tae the famous Glesga Rent Strike. The Stalker vaguely remembered hearing aboot the strike when he wis a snapper. He continued reading. The strike hid been aboot challenging the private landlords who wur bumping up the rents tae cash in oan the influx ae the munitions workers, who wur arriving in Glesga in droves at the start ae the first world war. The Stalker noted that the Barbour wummin hid eventually gone oan tae become the first female labour cooncillor in the city. Jeannie Smullen hid been arrested twice in 1915 during rent strikes in Glesga, fur harassing Sheriff officers gaun aboot their business. The file stated that she’d been fined wan bob and two shillings respectively fur throwing paper bags full ae flour at Toon Council officials up closemooths across in Govan, despite no hivving a residential address in the district. It also stated that she wis active in setting up the Socialist Sunday School movement. In July 1916, when she’d been training tae be a nurse up at The Royal, she’d been wan ae the first tae join up as a member ae the Women’s Peace Crusade that hid been established a month earlier by an Agnes Dollan and a Helen Crawfurd. According tae the file, Jeannie and Agnes Dollan hid been amongst the first ae the WPC movement’s members tae take the anti-war message oot intae the slum districts in the city. They’d hopped between Springburn and Maryhill, where they’d started stirring up aw the local wummin, getting them tae question, then demonstrate, aboot local families being evicted fur no paying their rent, when their men hid been sent aff tae fight in the battlefields ae France fur their King and Country. The Stalker wis interested tae note that maist ae these mad wummin who wur involved in anti-social causes in the city hid developed a technique ae working within local communities, specifically targeting the wummin who wur at hame during the day when their weans wur at school or whose men wur aff fighting. The authorities hid become alarmed at the sudden rise ae activism amongst the female working class. Baith Jeannie and Agnes Dollan hid awready honed this technique tae good effect during the rent strikes in 1915 and soon there wur anti-war demonstrations every other week up in Springburn and Maryhill. Five years later, in 1920, Jeannie hid goat hersel charged again, hivving knocked a helmet aff ae a polis sergeant called Bigamy. According tae Jeannie, she’d spotted the sergeant spitting oan the back ae the heid ae wan ae the main organisers ae a big demonstration oan Glesga Green. The Stalker wisnae surprised tae read that the organiser and recipient ae the greaser hid been none other than Helen Crawfurd, who’d set up the Women’s Peace Crusade five years earlier. Jeannie’s fine that time hid been upped tae two pounds which wis a lot ae money in those days. Her criminal career hid continued and her next run-in wae the polis hid come oan the 4th May 1926, when she’d been part ae a mob who’d overturned a bus in the central district ae Glesga, jist shortly before the start ae the General Strike kicked aff. The file didnae mention the street name, bit it wid’ve probably been Cathedral Street or Parly Road, he thought tae himsel. Jeannie and nine other rioters hid goat huckled. Fur that wee carry oan, she’d goat fined five pounds or five days in Duke Street Prison. Somewan hid paid her fine that same day and she’d been released. The Stalker looked, bit couldnae find oot who’d put up the money, bit he did come across another name he recognised...auld Charlie Mann. Charlie hid goat the same sentence as Jeannie, bit hid ended up in the jail fur a few days. Somewan hid eventually put up three pounds and he’d been released two days later. The Stalker noted that Mrs Agnes Dollan hid coughed up the dosh that time. The next time Jeannie hid been lifted hid been oan the 1st October 1931. Wance again, she’d been back oan Glesga Green...obviously wan ae her favourite battlegrounds. She’d been wrestled tae the ground by a PC Fletcher, kicking and screaming, while she wis trying tae free some violent arsehole called McShane, who’d been resisting arrest, efter he’d been hauncuffed by the bizzies during a riot. Seemingly, McShane hid been at the heid ae a charging mob who’d been attacking the boys in blue. Jeannie hid managed tae wriggle her way oot ae that wan, claiming she’d been attending tae Mr McShane’s injuries as he lay oan the ground efter being clubbed by the polis. Her luck hid been in that day and she’d been found not guilty. The Stalker picked up his mug and took a slurp. He smiled. This explained a lot. He now knew where Helen goat her taste fur fighting wae Sheriff officers and bizzies in the street fae. Christ, it obviously ran in the family. There wisnae much else said aboot Jeannie being arrested again. The rest ae the information detailed the different anti-authority groups she’d been involved in. The Stalker wis impressed. Young Jeannie Smullen hid obviously seen hersel as some sort ae spokesman fur the masses. When the Stalker turned the page, he jist aboot choked whilst taking a slurp ae his cauld tea. There, in front ae him, in faded type, it said that Jeannie Smullen hid stood as a cooncillor in 1935 in the Toonheid. No only that, bit that she’d lost tae none other than JP Donnelly. The Stalker couldnae believe the very last paragraph oan the last page, bit it explained a lot aboot the request he’d goat fur haunin o’er intelligence tae Father John.
‘Without the combined assistance of the local constabulary, churches, with Father O’Malley in particular, The Protestant League’s secretary, David Campbell and key officials from within The Corporation, Donnelly would have suffered a humiliating defeat and Ferguson would have taken the seat. All finances are now to be redirected to Crossbow. 18b not activated. Report concluded. Location HO36/36274'
The Stalker turned the pages backwards and forward, bit couldnae figure oot whit the fuck Crossbow, 18b or HO36/36274 stood fur. Whit hid been crystal clear fur those pulling the strings behind the scenes though, wis that Jeannie Smullen wisnae gonnae be getting her fanny warm while sitting lounging oan a seat in The Corporation in 1935. The Stalker turned the page. The last bit oan Jeannie Smullen stated that in the March ae 1937, she, alang wae a haunful ae other nurses hid left Glesga Central Station, tae great fanfare, tae go tae nurse in Spain, oan the same day as other nurses, aw men, fae the Scottish Ambulance Unit, drove south. Oan the 18th March the following year, Jeannie Smullen, a nurse attached tae the International Brigades, wis killed, alang wae two other Commonwealth nurses, during the two-day bombing ae Barcelona by nationalist forces, under Franco. Despite enquiries and a petition fae her twin sister, Margo, Helen’s maw, tae the Secretary ae State fur Scotland, her body wis never returned back tae her native Scotland.
There wisnae much oan Helen’s schooling in the file, other than tae say that Helen Taylor wis an above-average pupil, who’d attended Toonheid primary and secondary schools. Fae jist efter she wis born until she wis nine or ten, she’d lived wae her auntie Jeannie during the week, while her maw worked long shifts in service. Her da took o’er the responsibility at the weekends or when Jeannie wis oan nightshift up at The Royal. The school board hid expressed concern that the auntie hid Helen trooping aroond aw sorts ae demonstrations and it hid been noted that she’d been aff school fur nearly two weeks when she wis eight, efter getting hit by a missile, thrown during some demonstration in Dundas Street. Helen Taylor hid left school, aged fourteen, wae nae academic qualifications, despite showing academic promise. The reason gied at the time hid been the need fur her tae get oot tae work and bring in an income tae support the family.
The Stalker started flicking quickly through the pages again until a well-known name caught his eye. He felt his sphincter expanding tae twice its normal size and managed tae clamp the cheeks ae his arse thegither before he shat himsel. He felt the sweat appearing oan his brow and a sinking feeling welling up in the pit ae his stomach.
“Noo, why the fuck wid somewan like Pat Molloy be mentioned in the file ae somewan like Helen Taylor?” he murmured, puzzled.
Efter composing they bowels ae his by carefully letting aff a few wee surreptitious squeaky heraldic farts, he read oan. According tae the polis report, Helen Taylor and Pat Molloy...also known as The Big Man in the city, hid no only went oot thegither fur o’er five years between 1940 and 1945, bit they’d actually been engaged tae be married. The Stalker fumbled tae
open the drawer ae his desk, before lifting oot the blue McEwen’s bar towel...the bar towel that Helen Taylor hid gied him at wan ae the recent warrant sales demos, tae help staunch the blood fae dribbling doon his chin, the day the dentist hid butchered they gums ae his. He hesitated slightly, and then used it tae wipe the sweat fae his brow.
“That dirty, evil, fucking basturt...goat in there first,” The Stalker groaned, feeling his bowels start tae churn again.
He knew fine well that it wis ludicrous, bit The Stalker felt a stab ae jealousy. “Whit the fuck is it wae these gangster basturts?” he asked his reflection in the big, black and white photo frame ae the Queen, stuck oan the wall opposite his desk, feeling miserable.
Everything Molloy touched became tarnished and tainted. He looked at the sheet. Pat Molloy, the only son ae local businessman, Bill Molloy, wis a well-known ducker and diver and as a teenager hid awready started tae make a name fur himsel, dealing oan the black market in the city. The da wis as crooked as the son. Baith the father and son hid been intae hijacking lorries and horse and carts, stealing coal and reselling it, despite rationing and the war effort. Anything worth mair than a penny, whether it wis stockings, make-up, meat, booze or fags, passed through the Molloys’ hauns. Despite their best efforts, the civilian and military polis hidnae managed tae get the da or his son oan anything. Pat hid operated under the cover ae his da’s many businesses, which hid included hauf ae the stables that hired oot horses and carts in the city. The boy...The Big Man...hid managed tae dodge being drafted intae military service because his da’s business hid been classed as being essential tae the war effort. He looked doon at the file. It never said why the engagement wis broken aff. In 1948, Helen Taylor hid come tae the notice ae the local polis and The Corporation efter being accused ae punching a Sheriff officer during a warrant sale skirmish in Stanhope Street in the Toonheid. He wisnae surprised tae read that the recipient ae the sale hid been an Ann Jackson, noo residing doon oan Keppochhill Road. Somewan telt him recently that Jackson’s youngest wis noo a nurse or something. Helen’s witnesses hid ootnumbered the opposition by ten tae wan. Efter that, Helen Taylor’s file read jist like her auntie Jeannie’s, bit withoot her being associated wae any political party or organisation. She’d been the leading light and chief motivator fur a bunch ae hairys who’d terrorised Corporation officials and the local constabulary fur the next twenty-odd years. She’d hid umpteen fines fur threatening behaviour, resisting arrest and obstructing public officials while they went aboot their business. She’d also spent a week in Gateside Wummins nick oan remand, bit hid been released efter her trial collapsed. The file didnae say why. She wis the mother ae three lassies and two boys. The boys hid turned oot tae be wee neds, although it hid been acknowledged that the eldest wan, Charlie, seemed tae hiv been rehabilitated. The youngest, John, or Johnboy, wis reported as being easily-led, bit noo a fully-fledged recidivist and wis marked doon as a no-hoper, unlike his elder brother. The Stalker smiled a grim smile when he turned o’er and looked at the previous convictions sheet fur Johnboy. He’d been a bloody walking crime wave since the age ae ten.
