Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1

by Ian Todd

  “Er, excuse me, missus, whit aboot ma change?”

  She turned, gieing him the evil eye, then disappeared doon the stairs muttering aboot whit a cheeky wee basturt he wis.

  The bus turned left intae Castle Street and then right intae the Garngad wance it goat o’er the Nolly bridge. Two stoaps further alang, The Baby Rock came intae view oan his right haun side. Johnboy wis jist swaying alang the tap deck, heiding fur the stairs tae get aff when Granny Happiness shouted up the stairs.

  “Passenger fur the scabies clinic!”

  “Up the stair and first oan the left,” the talking typewriter said when he rung the white button beside the wee windae, jist in fae the main door.

  He stood hesitating, looking aboot, hauf in anticipation ae a repeat performance fae the tick-tack voice that hid wafted oot ae the faceless windae in front ae him. As he couldnae see anywan, he wisnae sure if it wis a machine that spoke when he pressed the button or no. He wis tempted tae press the button again jist tae see whit wid happen, bit thought better ae it as Clatter Voice sounded as if she or the machine didnae take shite fae anywan. When he arrived at the second wee windae up oan the second flair, he wis fair chuffed no tae see a face looking oot at him. He wanted tae test oot whether these buttons started a machine, like in Dr Who, so he gied the button a longer stab wae his finger this time. Olive Oyl said that the future wid aw be run by robots. Suddenly a haun appeared through the windae and snapped its fingers, though he still couldnae see if it wis attached tae a face. A couple ae the fingers wur stained dark broon so he wisnae sure if the machine hid been fixing itself or if the owner hid been scratching her arse. He haunded the haun his envelope and it disappeared back through fae wherever it hid come fae. He wis concentrating tae see if he could hear the whirring ae its motor when it spoke.

  “Plant yer arse oan the bench in that room o’er there and don’t touch anything.”

  Aboot ten days later, a wummin, who wis definitely no a machine bit sounded like a foghorn, arrived oan the scene.

  “Turn roond and let me see that back ae yours,” Mrs Foghorn Leghorn barked, nearly causing him tae shite in they ripped breeks ae his in fright.

  He couldnae understaun why the hell she wis shouting, given that he wis staunin jist in front ae her. He twirled aroond oan wan leg, hoping tae impress her while at the same time pulling his shirt right up tae his neck.

  “Aye,” she shouted tae confirm her worst suspicion. “Noo, yer front.”

  She wis bent o’er in front ae him wae her face aboot an inch fae his pigeon chest. He assumed she wis that close because she wis blind or something. When he looked doon, apart fae clocking the biggest paps he’d ever clapped eyes oan, he noticed her specs wur aboot hauf an inch thick, jist like the bottom ae an Irn Bru bottle.

  “Right, through that door and take yer clothes aff,” she hollered, following him in.

  There wur four fancy showers sticking oot ae the wall. He undressed and stood there, covering himsel wae his hauns.

  “Right, get o’er here and get under that shower,” Mrs Megaphone shouted tae everywan in the building and the surrounding streets, turning oan the water.

  In front ae each shower, there wis whit looked like big paint tin lids, turned upside doon wae thick black tarry stuff in them.

  “See that stuff there?” she bellowed, pointing tae the paint tin lids.

  “Aye,” he replied hesitantly, ears ringing.

  “That’s soap, so it is. Dae ye know whit soap is?”

  “Aye.”

  “Ur ye sure?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, get a big dollop ae that oan baith ae yer hauns and get tore right intae it.”

  He wis waiting until she disappeared before he started, bit she finally convinced him that she widnae be seeing anything she hidnae clocked before.

  “Right, c’moan, ya manky wee toad. Ah hivnae goat aw day and make sure ye get yer fingers intae aw they cracks,” she bawled.

  Wance he wis under the water it wisnae too bad and he actually started tae enjoy himsel. He even started humming the Otis Reading version ae ‘Satisfaction’ by The Rolling Stones that his big sister Isabelle preferred, which turned oot tae be a big mistake. He reckoned Mrs Foghorn Leghorn wisnae intae that version, nor his fancy feet and legwork as he pranced and jived aboot under the shower, humming contentedly tae himsel, wae a heid full ae soapy bubbles that wur flying aw o’er the place. Jist as he came oot and wis drying himsel aff wae a towel made ae Brillo pads, another big wummin in a white coat arrived oan the scene and asked if he wis ready.

  “O’er here and let me see ye,” shouted you-know-who, followed by, “Christ almighty, is that no the biggest, thickest and widest tide mark oan a scrawny neck we’ve seen in a long time, Nora? Ah wish Ah hid ma camera.”

  Even though he wisnae too sure whit they wur oan aboot, he wisnae gonnae chance it by asking fur a shot ae a mirror so he could see whit aw the admiration wis aboot.

  “Aye, it is that, Peggy, and him built like a pipe cleaner as well,” Nora snorted.

  “Right, Blackie, back in there and get that neck ae yours scrubbed clean wae that sponge and use plenty ae soap this time and hurry up. Then, ye’ll need tae get dried,” bellowed the air raid siren. “And don’t furget they feet…they’re bloody mockit, so they ur!”

  “Right, Blackie, jist staun in there,” his new pal, Nora, said, pointing tae a big giant sardine tin can. “Ye kin leave yer towel oan the chair and ye’ll get it when Ah’m finished.”

  That last bit made him feel a wee bit wary. Finished wae whit? It wis then he clocked the bucket ae white paint she hid in wan haun and the six inch paint brush in the other. He knew then that he wis in fur a treat ae some sort. Big Mooth, wae the bottle glasses and ootsize paps, wis staunin in the doorway, so a mad dash fur freedom wis oot ae the question.

  “Right, this might feel a wee bit cauld tae start wae, especially oan the auld crown jewels,” his ex-pal said, as she dipped the brush intae the paint tin and splurged a great big white line fae his neck, doon his chest and legs tae his feet, in wan stroke.

  She’d obviously hid plenty ae experience ae the painting and decorating game because she went at it like a journeyman. It wisnae as bad as he thought it wid be when he first saw the six incher in her mitt. Her and Mrs Foghorn Leghorn seemed tae take great pleasure whenever Nora wid turn the bristles oan tae their side and jiggle them up and doon furiously between the cracks ae his arse, laughing like wummin possessed at the sound ae his yelping when the white paint stuff stung his arsehole. Johnboy definitely widnae be recommending a visit tae the scabby clinic tae anywan, unless it wis tae somewan like Fat Arse Milne and his pals. He must’ve done okay though because Mrs Leghorn hid done a disappearing act when the show wis o’er and Nora telt him tae get dressed as he wis finished fur the day.

  The haun wis still hinging aboot at the windae when he came oot wae his clothes glued tae him.

  “Er, Ah think Ah’m supposed tae pick up bus tokens tae get hame.”

  “Ye’ll get them fae the office doon the stair,” said Shitey Fingers.

  Brilliant, he thought. He’d get tae push that wee white button again and see whit happened.

  He could still hear the clickity-clack ae the typewriter bit nobody answered his ring at the windae doon the stairs. Efter aboot ten rings worth ae being ignored, he goat the hint and went through the doors, oot intae ugly Territory and heided back towards the toon centre and school.

  Chapter Seven

  “Whit the hell’s gaun oan?” The Inspector demanded in a loud voice, his erms ootstretched, looking aroond, no expecting a response.

  He wis staunin wae his feet apart, facing them, in the tap flair canteen ae the Black Street sub-office. The group included the two uniformed sergeants as well as the local pavement pounders. He’d called them thegither as a result ae a meeting he’d hid the day before wae his chief inspector and JP Donnelly, the local cooncillor and Justice ae the Peace. He wis hopping mad every time he thought ab
oot whit the wee poncie prick hid said tae him in front ae his boss.

  “Thanks fur meeting me at such short notice, Colin, bit Ah think ye’ll hiv tae agree that things ur starting tae spiral oot ae control, so they ur,” JP hid bleated.

  The Inspector hid glanced o’er at Sean Smith, his chief inspector, fur a clue as tae whit JP wis getting at, bit Sean’s face hid been blank. His focus hid turned back tae the cooncillor.

  “Ah mean, it’s no as if ye hivnae goat the manpower, is it? And Ah think every wan in this room wid agree that Ah’ve supported ye beyond the call ae duty as yer local cooncillor.”

  “Maybe ye wid like tae share...” The Inspector hid interjected, bit JP hid been oot ae the trap and running.

  “Ah mean, at least five times this month Ah’ve hid tae speak wae local constituents aboot the heavy haundedness ae the boys oan the beat.”

  “Whit Ah wis trying tae ascertain, JP, is whit the actual problem is that ye hiv?” The Inspector hid managed tae get in before JP could draw another breath.

  “Whit ma problem is, is that in the past few weeks, a crime wave his descended oan ma patch. Look at the list,” JP hid moaned, as he waved a sheet ae paper in the air before reading oot loud fae it. “Seven local shoaps hiv been tanned, twenty eight cars belonging tae the college folk hiv been broken intae and damaged, the nursery in Montrose Street his been screwed again, eleven hooses hiv been burgled, two teenagers slashed, three stabbed and wan ae ma constituents wis nearly killed, slipping oan shite up a closemooth up in McAslin Street because some dirty wee manky cretin couldnae be arsed using a cludgie like the rest ae us.”

  “Whit JP is looking fur is a wee explanation as tae whit we’re daeing aboot the situation, Colin,” The Chief hid said soothingly.

  “Whit Ah’m looking fur, Sean, is tae be able tae tell ma constituents that we’re oan tap ae this and that they kin rest easy in their beds at night.”

  “Ah kin assure ye that we’re daeing aw we kin, JP. We know who maist ae them ur, bit we hiv tae catch them at it or get information fae wan or mair ae yer constituents as tae who’s daeing it,” The Inspector hid retorted.

  “Ah know ye know who’s daeing it, Colin. Ma cat could tell me who the fuck’s daeing it, bit that disnae take away fae the fact that Ah cannae go aboot ma business withoot getting they ears ae mine melted by the local shoapkeepers.”

  “There ur four or five ae them at it. Aw the same wans.”

  “Is that including the two that Ah put away?” JP hid asked.

  “We think that’s including that two…aye.”

  “And the rest ae them?” JP hid demanded, raising his eyebrows.

  “Well, we know the Taylor brat is definitely involved, alang wae a right wee thieving shitehoose called Gucci.”

  “Gucci? Whit kind ae name is that?”

  “Ah think it’s Atalian.”

  “So, where’s the intelligence oan aw this coming fae?”

  “Sergeant Thompson says they’ve an informer the same age as the culprits.”

  “Is that the wee fat-arsed boy Ah heard aboot?” JP hid asked.

  The Inspector couldnae believe whit he’d jist heard and hid glanced o’er at The Chief, who’d nodded his heid.

  “Aye, bit, of course, that’s supposed tae be confidential. We widnae want anything tae happen tae the boy, noo wid we, JP?”

  “Don’t worry Colin, whit’s said within this room is jist between us.”

  The Inspector hid been trying his best no tae look pissed aff. That fucking Crisscross, he’d thought.

  “Look, we’re aw efter the same thing here. You put them up in front ae me and Ah’ll take care ae them at ma end.”

  “Ma boys wur a wee bit miffed that wan ae them only goat put intae Larchgrove fur twenty eight days fur the shoap oan St James Road,” The Inspector hid growled accusingly at JP.

  “Aye, well, he wis only eleven years auld and a third time offender,” hid been JP’s response.

  “Aye, bit wan ae ma officers wis nearly killed by wan ae they eleven year aulds.”

  “Aye, and that wan is oan an indictment. Ye wullnae see him again until he’s fifteen efter Ah sling that manky arse ae his in a secure approved school in two months time, Colin.”

  “Ah think whit Colin is referring tae is the fact that the charge wis drapped fae attempted murder tae serious assault, JP,” The Chief hid chipped in.

  “Ye’d need tae take that up wae the new procurator fiscal, Glenda Metcalfe. She’s young and a wee bit wet behind the ears, bit she’ll get there in the end, if you boys will gie her time tae settle in. And anyway, the sentence will still be the same at the end ae the day.”

  “As Colin said earlier, JP, we’re daeing everything in oor power tae catch the wee toe-rags.”

  “That’s fine, Sean, bit let’s no beef aboot here. There’s a bloody war oan crime in this city and wan thing is fur sure, we’re gonnae win it up in the Toonheid.”

  “Don’t ye worry, JP, Ah’ll be briefing the lads the morra and Ah’ll press upon them the urgency ae the situation,” The Inspector hid assured him.

  “Fine. Well, if there’s nothing else, Ah’m aff tae hiv a bite tae eat wae the Sally Army lassies up in the gospel hall oan Stirling Road who’ve jist completed phase wan ae their summer can collection drive fur the needy weans oot in Africa,” JP hid announced, staunin up.

  The Inspector gazed at the uniforms lounging aboot in front ae him. He wanted tae ladle intae them, bit held his tongue. They could be obstinate basturts when they wanted tae be.

  “It’s been a month since they wee basturts done the tobacconist shoap oan St James Road and we’re nae further forward,” he growled at them, getting back tae the business in haun, looking at them individually. “In fact, things hiv goat bloody worse.”

  “Why hiv we no arrested the Taylor brat?” Crisscross asked.

  “Because we’ve nae evidence, that’s why,” The Sarge reminded him.

  “Bit Sarge, Ah wis in the car when the wee fat boy telt us he saw him.”

  “We goat two ae the wee basturts red-haunded, bit we’ve only goat Fatty’s word that the other two wur involved,” Big Jim informed him.

  “It wid be two against wan so it widnae staun up in court,” The Sarge added.

  “And it wid expose oor source and who knows whit wid happen tae him then, eh?” Big Jim reminded them.

  “Naw, we’ll keep Fat Boy in reserve. He’ll come in handy when we’re in a position tae really go tae toon oan the wee fuckers,” The Sarge said, smiling and relishing the thought.

  “So, where dae we go fae here then?” asked The Inspector.

  “There’s clearly a pattern here,” chipped in Jinty, as they aw turned and looked at him. “Oot ae the seven shoaps that hiv been tanned in the last few weeks, five ae them hiv been oan Parly Road, wan oan Stirling Road and wan oan Cathedral Street.”

  “So?” asked Tommy and Jack in unison, involving themsels in the discussion fur the first time.

  “Let him finish, boys,” said The Inspector.

  “Well, the key areas ae activity hiv been the main shoapping areas where there’s plenty ae shoaps. Where there’s less shoaps…fur example, oan Stirling Road and Cathedral Street, they’ve tanned a shoap wan week apart.”

  “And?” piped in the singing twins again.

  “And that means that they’re operating in a circular route, so it stauns tae reason that sooner or later they’ll come tae us, insteid ae us chasing their arses and oor tails efter the fact.”

  “Ur we sure that it’s definitely them that ur daeing aw the damage?” chipped in Crisscross tae nowan in particular.

  “Let’s look at the facts then. Efter St James Road, they moved up Parly Road aboot a hunner yards and screwed Curley’s, the grocers, which is between Taylor Street and St Mungo Street. Then they screwed Wee Lizzie’s, the draper shoap, between Glebe Street and Martyr Street. The next wan oan the list wis Tam Pitt’s dairy oan Stirling Road. They then heided back tae Parly Road at the St Ja
mes Road end and screwed the fruit shoap beside the traffic lights. Then they did Tony’s fish and chip shoap oan the other side ae Parly Road jist up fae The Gay Gordon,” The Sarge said, coonting aff the burglaries oan his fingers, putting oan his best Sherlock Holmes expression.

  “Aye, Tony said that wan ae the wee reprobates hid shat in his deep fat fryer and he only discovered it when the customer brought his meal back, complaining that his black pudding hidnae any batter oan it,” Crisscross interupted, sending everywan intae fits ae laughter.

  “Aye, we’ll need tae body swerve Tony’s fur a wee while. Ah don’t trust him. Who knows whit he dips in that batter ae his,” The Sarge cautioned, getting affirmative nods back, despite the laughter.

  “We could always ask fur oor money back,” Crisscross said, tae guffaws.

  “And then they heided back doon Stirling Road oan tae Cathedral Street again where they tanned the paper shoap beside Canning Lane,” Big Jim said, getting back tae the discussion, wance the laughter died doon.

  “And in answer tae Crisscross’s question as tae whether it wis them or no…aw the shoaps hid their windaes tanned in wae a pavement stank except fur the fruit shoap where we don’t know whit they used,” Sherlock concluded.

  “And tae dae the fruit shoap windae, they wid’ve hid tae jump o’er the wee hauf grill security door intae the foyer which widnae hiv gied them swinging room fur a stank,” Big Jim chucked in fur good measure.

  “Aye, the CID boys reckon that it wis probably done wae a hammer,” Jinty informed them.

  “Wee manky basturts!”

  “So, where ur we then?” asked The Inspector again.

  “Ah think Jinty is oan tae something here,” The Sarge acknowledged.

  “So, aw we need tae dae o’er the next wee while is concentrate oan the Parly Road, Stirling Road, and Cathedral Street routes, wae a particular emphasis oan the Parly Road end, if Jinty’s theory is tae be proved right,” Big Jim announced.