by A D Evans
He sat quietly for a few seconds, letting his words sink in.
‘No one would even notice if you disappeared for good. I could arrange for that to happen. I could say that you broke your neck as you struggled to escape being apprehended. The courts would take my word for it. You are scum, you do not count. Of course, if you were to die your scum friend that was arrested with you would also have to die. Maybe when he heard about your demise he would commit suicide by hanging himself with material he had unravelled from his shirt’
‘Inspector, take it easy’ said the other detective.
‘It's a cruel world we live in and your about to find out just how cruel it can be’.
‘Do you understand what I’m saying scumbag?’
There was no answer from the suspect.
Another hard slap across the face followed.
‘What have we here? A hard man.? What do you think Walter does he look like a hard man to you’
Ritchie stood up suddenly and his chair crashed noisily to the floor.
‘No he doesn't look very hard to me, he looks as if he's about to cry. Can I say something sir?’
‘Of course you can Walter. What's troubling you?’
Walter Berry stood up and faced Charles Ritchie. In a hesitant voice, he said.
‘I don't think you should be treating a prisoner in this manner. It's barbaric, and I will not be a party to it’
‘Listen to me you soft shit. If you do not like it, you can go back to working with the school crossing patrol officers. Most of them have more backbone than you anyway. You are an extremely poor excuse for a policeman’
‘That’s it,’ spluttered the enraged officer, who was going red in the face. ‘I'm going to make an official complaint against you. People like you give the police a bad name. Can’t you see that the boy is terrified?’
‘Walter don't get you into a tizzy. I will go for a cup of tea and let your little angel calm down. Then I will be back looking very hard for answers to my questions. If the little scum bag remains silent. I will remove you and have a real police officer present at the interview. That will soon produce results’
With that, the Inspector left the room.
‘Are you all right son?’ he asked the suspect, as he sat himself back down.
Rab rubbed at the corner of his eyes.
‘Aye not to bad, but he's a fuckin' nutter that Ritchie.’
‘I know son, and I will report him but I have no one to report to because it's Christmas day. All the top brass are tucked up cosily in their big houses having their festive dinners. If he moves me from the case I dread to think what he and D.C. Crawford would be capable of.’
‘Can they get away with doing this? I have never been in any serious trouble, honest.’
‘Unfortunately son because of the time of year they will get away with anything.’
‘What can I do?’ he muttered and started to cry.
The police officer put a comforting arm round his shoulders.
‘Well you could talk to me that would put a spanner in his evil works. If you tell me everything, he can’t touch you. By law if I take your statement, then I am responsible for you. If you say that, you don't want a lawyer it will give him less chance to get you away from me. If we do the statement now we will get away with it. Ok son?’
‘Okay’ agreed Rab ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Hang on a second till I start the tape, then that arsehole can’t do anything about it’
Walter Berry, spoke into the machine. Then asked Rab if he wanted a lawyer present.
He replied in the negative.
‘Well the first thing we begin with is what your name is?’
‘Robert Smyth’ as he said his name the tears began to flow freely down his bruised cheeks
‘Good. Now what's your mate’s name?’
‘Andrew Jarvis’
‘Your address?’
‘97 H Balmore Circus’
‘What about your friends address?’
‘1260 Maryhill Road’
‘Who do you work for?’
There was a silence for a few seconds.
Then he uttered the shaky reply.
‘Paul Lynch’
‘Does your friend also work for Paul Lynch?’
‘Aye he does’ was the hesitant answer.
‘Were you working for Mr. Lynch today?’
‘Aye, and so was Andy Jarvis’
‘Did Paul Lynch offer you money to deliver the drugs that were found in the car you were driving?’
‘Aye he did’
‘How much did he offer you?’
‘Five Hundred quid each and guaranteed work with his outfit’
‘Did Paul Lynch offer you this personally, or was it one of his men?’
‘No it was Paul himself’
The prisoner began ringing his hands
‘When did he make this offer?’
‘Last night, he phoned me’
‘Are you sure it was Paul Lynch?’
‘Oh aye, it was Paul alright’
The questioning went on for more than an hour.
Walter Berry eventually spoke into the tape stating that the interview was terminated.
‘What happens now?’ Asked Rab. His whole body was quivering with the tension of the last hour.
‘I'm not really sure, let's find out,’ said the police officer with a smile.
‘Charles you can come in now, the wee scum bastard has told me the lot’
Detective Chief Inspector Charles Ritchie entered the room with a huge grin on his face.
‘Would you believe it? Imagine anybody falling for the good cop, bad cop ploy in this day and age. Unbelievable’
He stood there with his hands in his pockets laughing.
The truth slowly dawned on Rab Smyth.
‘Bastards he screamed at them. Polis fuckin bastards’
‘It's all on tape Rab my boy. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. In the process, you shopped all your associates. So you better be nice to us. We might just let you go free after we ensured they found out about your treachery. They would have a field day with a grass in Maryhill. Of course we would let it be known the exact time and place of your release. I'm sure all your friends would be waiting to welcome you with open arms’
‘And open razors’ laughed Walter Berry.
‘There might just be a way for you to save yourself,’ said Ritchie.
‘Fuck you,’ replied the distraught man.
‘Oh! The hard mans back. He frightens me, save me Charles, save me,’ sneered Berry.
‘Can I phone my da and let him know where I am?’ he asked the policemen.
‘You certainly can’ was the reply from Berry. ‘As long as you don't say anything stupid. Give me the number’
He dialled the number and when it was answered handed the phone to him. With trembling hands, he took the proffered mobile.
‘It's me Willie’ said Rab, ‘Ritchie's got me’ He screamed at the top of his voice.
‘Ok son, don’t panic and tell them fuck all. Ok?’
FORTYFOUR
The tone of Willie’s voice spoke volumes to the men gathered in the office.
‘What is it Willie boy’?
He related the context of the phone call.
There was silence for a few moments, and then they were all talking at once.
‘Shut it,’ shouted Paul, above the rest of the crowd.
‘Keep it down till we think what’s happened to Rab’
He picked up a pen from the desk and began fiddling with the top as he opened and closed the pen he made his decision.
‘Malkie go out the back door and ditch them mobiles into the canal’
‘All of them boss’ As he slid from the desk.
‘Aye every one of them has to go. We can expect Ritchie down here with a search warrant any time now. What’s the strength of wee Rab? Will he tell them anything?’
Nobody answered.
&n
bsp; ‘I asked a question, are one of you going to answer me? Colly you recommended him for the job’
‘I did boss, but I don't know him that well’ He couldn't hold Paul’s stare and diverted his eyes to the wooden floor.
Willie who was sitting at the monitor, shouted over.
‘Well here’s your answer, Ritchie and half of the fuckin' Maryhill polis have just pulled up at the door’
Paul stood up straightened his tie, then headed for the entrance door
‘Good afternoon officer, I’m Paul Lynch. How can I help you?’
‘For a start, you can let us search your premises. I'm Detective Chief Inspector Charles Ritchie, Strathclyde Police’
He held up his warrant card for inspection.
‘I have reason to believe that your premises are being used in the distribution of controlled drugs’
Paul carefully scrutinised the proffered card.
‘Do you have a search warrant Inspector?’
‘Not at the moment, but I can detain you here for the next few hours until I obtain one’
He carefully re-placed the card back into his wallet.
‘That won’t be necessary Inspector Bitchie’
‘Ritchie, the name is Ritchie’
‘Yes of course it is. Come in we have nothing to hide in here. Was just having a festive drink for the lads.’
He lifted a can and proceeded to pull the ring top.
Ritchie entered the unit followed by a squad of other officers.
‘Help yourself inspector’ volunteered Paul.
‘Would any of you gentlemen like a drink? He held up a bottle of twelve year old finest malt whisky?’
‘No thank you Mr. Lynch, we’re on duty’
‘Ah duty. You are a shining example to your profession, Inspector Bitchie,’ said Paul, as he reclined in the leather office chair. The Inspector did not correct the mispronunciation of his name
‘What's that saying Willie?’
‘Is it?’
‘Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die’
‘Are they supposed to die on duty boss? Maybe that’s what it means’ Laughed big Willie as he knocked back a large glass of whisky.
‘Yes William perhaps they will die on duty’
He agreed with a smirk. He toyed with the pen doodling on the ink blotter.
The policeman ignored the men, and gave instructions to his team.
The police officers went to work on the unit, and left nothing unexamined. After about an hour, he called a halt to the hunt.
‘Well Inspector, have you found what you were looking for? Or have your efforts all been in vain. I sincerely hope that you or your men will tidy any mess they have left?’
‘We have one more thing to try Mr. Lynch’
He took a mobile phone from his pocket.
‘Do you recognise this phone?’ he said to Paul, and held it over towards him.
He was careful not to touch the offering, as he looked at it.
‘Perhaps if you were to play the ringing tone I would recognise it. You see Inspector if it is my phone the melody will be The Fields of Athenry. I always have that wee Irish ditty. I mean it's so anti-British establishment, don't you agree?’
He pulled the phone back towards him, and stated tersely:
‘We confiscated this instrument from a drug dealer who was arrested this morning. I'm now going to press the re-dial button, and see what happens’
‘Has the person been tried and sentenced?’ Asked Paul innocently.
‘Off course not, he was only arrested this morning’
‘Oh was he? So what you really should have said was, suspected drug dealer’
He did not reply to the jibe, and with his hand shaking in rage, pressed the button.
Fifteen seconds passed, and then Willies phone started ringing.
‘Ah- ha, what have we here?’ Said the Inspector.
Ritchie removed the mobile from Willie, and pressed the answer button.
‘Willie, where the fuck are you? The dinners getting cold.’
He handed the phone to him with a look of disappointment.
‘Listen hen I’ll give you a buzz later, I’m entertaining at the moment’
He took a nonchalant swallow from his can, and said to Ritchie with an angelic look on his countenance.
‘Sorry to disappoint you Inspector. But the good news is, you’re invited to dinner’
‘Are you quite finished now?’
Asked Paul, as he closed the paper he was pretending to read
‘Not quite’
Paul, Joseph, Lynch I'm arresting you on suspicion of conspiring with others to supply, and sell controlled substances’
He cautioned Paul, and cuffed him.
‘I'm impressed inspector that you can recite the caution from memory. You’re definitely not as dumb as you look’
With that, Paul turned to Willie and with a soft chuckle said.
‘Phone Eric, and tell him to met me and the nice Inspector Bitchie at Maryhill swop shop okay pal? You know his number’
‘Okay boss we'll have you out in no time’
FORTYFIVE
Maryhill police station was bedlam. There was an ambulance at the door and cops were running all over the place.
‘What's going on shouted the disappointed Inspector?’
A very young constable stopped and said that a prisoner had been found dead in a detention cell.
‘Who was it?’ he screamed at the unfortunate young cop.
‘Rab Smyth. He hung himself’ he replied.
He went chalk white, and ran into the building kicking doors open as he progressed.
It was true Smyth had used his shirt to kill himself.
‘We still have the taped interview,’ said Walter Berry.
‘A lot of good it will do us without a witness. We are dead in the water. Lynch will be out of here as soon as his lawyer appears’
Half an hour later Paul was leaving the station with Eric Burton.
Eric had shot the evidence to pieces, as the police were expecting a result it was no surprise when he was released with all proposed charges deserted.
As he collected his belongings he turned from the desk and said,
‘Good-bye Mr. Bitchie see you in hell’
The caustic response died in the back of Ritchie’s throat as Paul’s lawyer was standing only a few feet from him.
‘It's a funny old life Eric, one minute you’re starting out a new career, the next your dead. As they say it's an ill wind’
‘Your right Paul. When Rab died so did Ritchie’s case’
‘Drop me at the unit. Thanks for coming so quickly, I hate these places’
Eric dropped him off at the unit, executed a U-turn and headed back home to Milngavie, and his dinner party. ‘This will make a nice human-interest story for my guests. How the lower classes spend their festive season. The pompous bastards love all this kind of stuff about the working class yobs. It will probably start a debate about the reintroduction of hanging’.
Sometimes Eric enjoyed the coarse earthiness of Paul and his kind rather than the pretentious people his wife forced upon him.
‘Oh! Well, ‘such is life’ he thought as he pulled into the driveway of his villa.
FORTYSIX
The troops were over the moon to see their boss back so promptly, and it was drinks all round.
‘I’m only having a couple,’ said Paul, as he reached for a can of lager. ‘I’ve got somewhere to be’
He related what had happened to wee Rab. It put a damper on the drinking for a short while.
He had phoned Marion and told her he would be arriving about six thirty.
She had begged him to hurry, as she wanted to open her gifts with him present.
They were getting ready to leave, when the front doorbell sounded.
The person who was ringing kept their finger on the button.
‘Is that they polis back again?’ Snarled Paul.
‘See what he wants big man, and then chase him to fuck’
As Willie answered the door, Paul watched the monitor, and listened on the intercom.
‘Where's that bastard lynch screamed the man? He’s killed my boy’
‘Calm down mate. What are you talking about?’
‘My only son Rab is dead, because of that drug dealing wanker’
‘Come on in, and we’ll talk about it’
‘Do you think I’m daft? Do you want me inside so you can murder me too?’
‘No pal, just to sort things out’
‘I’m only here to tell you shower of so called hard men a wee message.
I’ve got eight brothers in Possil who loved that boy. I’ve got hundreds of pals in the lodge. Every one of you pricks is getting it just as soon as I can organise it’ the man reached into his pocket and took a drink from a half bottle of whisky before he continued
‘Rab had never been in trouble till he fell in with you lot, and now he's dead’
‘Fuck the lot of you. You lot are all going to die as well. I know your in there Lynch hiding behind this big arsehole. Come out and face me like a man you lowlife bastard’
Paul headed for the door. A few of his gang made to follow, but were told to stay put.
As he made his way outside Willie was escorting the man into the street. The man with his arm bent behind his back, was being propelled forward at an alarming rate.
He told Willie to let him go, he looked surprised but released him.
The guy made a dive for Paul, screaming and shouting at him.
‘You killed my boy, you bastard’
He hit him once, hard on the chin. The man went down poleaxe.
He tried to sit up, but he put a foot on his chest.
‘Don't make threats to me unless you are serious about carrying them out. I'm sorry about Rab and I’ll send you something to help you get over his death. Do not badmouth me or I’ll have to deal with you severely’
‘Stick your money up your arse, you grease ball wanker. I don't care what you do to me, but there is plenty who will care. Your cards marked you Fenian bastard’
Paul turned to Willie.
‘Take this maniac away and dump him somewhere. I’ll shout Colly to give you a hand’
