Miracle On The Clyde (Glasgow Crime)

by A D Evans

  He turned on his heel and went back to his drink.

  The gang were all looking at him.

  ‘What do you expect me to do, chib the poor guy? He’s upset about his boy’

  He looked at his watch then took a long drink from his can.

  ‘All that ranting and raving means fuck all. Come on let's forget it and get on with our party’

  Willie and Colly returned about fifteen minutes later.

  ‘Well what did you do with him?’ he enquired

  ‘We dropped him of up in the Milton. Ronaldsay Street to be exact. Just at the lane beside my auntie Sadie’s. It will take him a good three quarters of an hour to walk back from there’

  He had a shower and shave then changed into his new dinner suit. He entered the office and making sure he was unobserved slid back the secret panel on the base of his desk. The rich red velvet box sat on the shelf were he had placed it the previous day. The box hinges clicked open at his touch. Inside nestled a solitaire diamond ring. He removed the ring from the red satin cushion, and it sparkled magnificently in the overhead light.

  A thing of beauty for a beautiful person. It had cost a fortune but to him anything spent on Marion was worth it.

  Tonight he was going to propose marriage to her, and he was quite confident that she would accept.

  She need never know about his way of life. She was not like his Grandparents who pretended they did not know how he made a living.

  As he applied some aftershave, he was humming a Rod Stewart song ‘Tonight’s the night’

  Willie came in and brought him back to reality. He was holding an envelope in his hand, and looked as if he was going to get emotional.

  ‘Thanks for the bonus boss. I’ve just opened my card’

  ‘No bother big man, you’re worth every penny of it’

  ‘Your one in a million boss’

  ‘Aye and you were won in a raffle,’ he laughed.

  Willie came round and sat on the desk.

  ‘Well boss, what are you doing all dressed up? Going somewhere nice?’

  ‘Aye I’m going to see an old friend’

  ‘Good, cause I wouldn’t like to see you on your Jack Jones today’

  ‘No mate, away home and see that ugly wife and all your horrible weans. Have a good time’

  ‘Aye I will boss’

  He turned the envelope over in his hands a few times as if he was thinking what to say next.

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about wee Rab’

  ‘That’s life mate. You know better than anyone, if you play with the big boy’s you must expect that things like today will happen’

  ‘Aye you’re right about that. Anyway I’m away home, and a hope your auld friend has her bad week’

  He threw a pencil at him as he dodged out the office door.

  What would I do without Willie? He is always there for me no matter the circumstances, even if I’m wrong he backs me to the hilt. He’s worth his weight in gold. He had a wee laugh to himself as he thought of how much gold would be involved to balance with big Willie. I had better break into Fort Knox next.

  He arrived promptly at Marion’s, and was greeted in her usual manner.

  ‘Has anyone else arrived yet?’ He asked

  ‘No darling their not due till eight, but I wanted you to myself for a while’

  She went to the bar and poured them both a drink, but suddenly turned to him and said.

  ‘Why don't you move in here with me?’

  He was a little stunned to be asked unexpectedly like this, and took a few seconds to answer.

  He crossed the floor to the bar, took her hands in his and said.

  ‘Marion I would love to move in with you, but I had something more permanent in mind’

  He reached into the pocket of his suit, and extracted the velvet box .Went down on one knee, looked into her eyes and proposed. He nervously waited as she opened the box. Her sharp intake of breath was the only sound to be heard.

  She jumped over to him threw and her arms round him then kissed him.

  ‘Can I take that as a yes then?’

  ‘Yes oh yes, Paul darling’

  The dye was cast there was no turning back, one last job and then out for good.

  FORTYSEVEN

  Frankie was feeling slightly delicate when he opened his eyes on the morning of Boxing Day. He glanced at the female lying beside him. She was a good-looking woman in her early forties.

  ‘What was her name?’ He thought.

  ‘Betty? Becky? No, it was Babs. Aye Babs that was it’

  He went to the toilet, urinated then jumped into the shower.

  He was brushing his teeth when there was a small knock at the bathroom door.

  ‘Frankie, are you in there?’

  ‘Aye, what is it?’

  ‘Can I come in? I’m bursting’

  ‘Come on in then, the door isn't locked’

  The door was slowly opened to reveal her standing on the threshold naked.

  ‘Come in sweetheart, come right ahead’

  She entered, and as he shaved, she used the toilet.

  ‘Is it okay if I take a shower sweetie?’

  ‘Aye of course it is’

  He watched her bend over and pick up the discarded towel from the shower tray.

  His instant arousal was very noticeable.

  ‘Why don't I join you? I can wash your back’

  ‘Sure. Why not? She instantly agreed, with a giggle full of sexual promise.

  An hour later found him, and his new lover lying on the bed.

  ‘Tell me Frankie, what’s it like to be an airline pilot?’ As she lit another cigarette.

  He responded instantly remembering his chat up line from the nightclub.

  Oh! It has its ups and downs. If you'll forgive the pun’

  He looked at his watch trying to avoid eye contact.

  ‘It must be a really exciting life style? Travelling the world’ she had a faraway look in her eye.

  ‘Aye it is that, but sometimes you get homesick for the good old Glasgow patter’

  ‘Are we going somewhere today lover?’

  ‘I don't know yet sweetheart I’ll have to check in with my controller’

  As he was about to lift the phone it started ringing.

  ‘Hello?’ He answered.

  ‘How is the project progressing Frankie boy? Any rats in the trap yet?’

  ‘It’s going brilliantly. I'm just waiting for the whole bait to be swallowed, and then I’ll reel him in’

  ‘So you reckon our idea is going to be a success then?’

  ‘Oh aye, a one hundred percent success’

  ‘Good man, well done. By the way, your ex- wife and daughter have been sent home in the mean time. Do not try to contact them. We have a security unit in place to insure their safety, but if you contact them in any way the deals off and you and your whole family will pay the price for any mistakes. If that’s clear to you? I will let you carry on enjoying Bab’s company. I expect good news from you by 31 December. Ok Frankie?’

  ‘How do you know her name is Babs?’

  ‘I’m surprised at you, don't you realise yet, we know everything about you, and she is one of our escort girls’

  He hung the phone up with a terse good-bye.

  ‘You work for them?’

  ‘Yes, but if it's any consolation I enjoyed every minute of last night’

  ‘Get your gear on, and get to fuck out of my room before I call security and have you thrown out’

  ‘Okay sweetie, if that’s what you want that’s what you’ll get. Good-bye’

  A few seconds later, she left, slamming the door in the haste of her departure.

  ‘Fuck this; you can’t even pull a burd without them bastards having a hand in it’

  The sooner I get this finished the better.

  I better phone Paul and set up a meet.

  He dialled his number, and an electronic voice answered

  'The mobile p
hone you are calling has been switched off’

  It must be a mistake his phone is never switched off; he tried again with the same result.

  ‘I don't believe this,’ he shouted.

  He dialled room service,

  ‘A bottle of ' Glen Arklet' as soon as you can’

  Within five minutes the bottle of whisky was sitting open, a large glass of the malt was fast disappearing down his parched throat.

  ‘Aye now, that's better,’ he sighed to the empty room.

  He decided to visit his parents and phoned for a taxi. Paul can wait until tomorrow. He deserved a day off.

  He stopped to buy a carry out on the way. He bought a bottle of Whisky for his parents and some lager for himself. An easy wee day, then go for the jugular in the morning.

  FORTYEIGHT

  Paul had wakened at just after seven on Boxing Day. He tip- toed out of the bedroom and went into the toilet on the landing. After washing his face and shaving, he went downstairs. He put on the kettle for a coffee, and then turned up the heating in the conservatory. This was his favourite room; he could sit for hours watching the local wild life. The last time he had sat there, it had been very early one morning a fox had appeared with two of her cubs. He was transfixed as had never seen a fox at such close quarters before except on telly or in a magazine.

  He prepared his coffee and toast then sat down facing the large glass window. After about half an hour a cat jumped over the rear wall and began to stalk some birds that were feasting on the remnants of his toast.

  He watched intently as the cat crept closer to its prey. One good spring and it would be in among the feeding birds. The cat prepared to launch its attack when suddenly there was a bang from the garden gate. The birds and the cat disappeared in a flash.

  Through the open gate came Jack Baird who was one of Marion’s houseguests.

  He spotted Paul and lifted a hand in a wave, the wave was returned.

  He knew now that his quiet time was over.

  ‘Good morning Paul. How are you this fine day?’

  ‘I'm great Jack. How about yourself?’

  ‘On top of the world’

  ‘How has the licensing trade been treating you these days?’

  ‘Good Paul, Trade's well up and the tills are still ringing joyously, why do you ask?

  ‘I'm in a position to dispose of some premises, and I was wondering if you would be interested in a quick sale?’

  ‘What’s on offer?’

  ‘Three pubs, a football club-house, two night-clubs, two snooker halls and bookmakers’

  ‘What kind of money are we talking about? ‘?

  ‘Two million big ones. That’s about a third off the going rate, but it would have to be in cash money ‘.

  ‘I’m definitely interested, but I would have to talk to a few people, it’s a lot of cash to raise without anyone becoming suspicious. ‘

  ‘Yes, I understand that, but where there’s a will there’s a way mate. I need an answer sooner rather than later’.

  ‘I will get back to you within forty eight hours. How would that suit you?’

  ‘Perfectly Jack, absolutely perfectly ‘.

  Just then, Marion appeared in a Japanese silk dressing gown. The colour of which matched her eyes.

  ‘Good morning darling, good morning Jack. What are you pair looking so furtive about? Do I detect some insidious business deal brewing? ‘

  ‘Yes your correct sweetheart, but it is nothing that you need worry about’

  Jack took his cue from Paul and said nothing further about their prospective deal.

  ‘Alright if you two are going to clam up I won’t ask anymore about it.’

  The maid entered to announce that breakfast was ready.

  A pleasant hour was spent eating breakfast and drinking coffee.

  This is the life for me he thought. No more wheeling and dealing in dangerous commodities. No more sleepless nights, and most of all no more fear. This is how people should live, civilised and content. Paul’s mouth watered at the thought of what his life could become.

  One more push, then peace for the rest of his life.

  Going back out to the garden he phoned Frankie.

  The call was answered immediately.

  ‘Hello’

  ‘Is that you Frankie?’

  ‘Aye it is. How’s it hanging Pauly boy?’

  ‘Good, I'm very Good thanks. Can you talk?’

  ‘Aye, fire away pal’

  ‘Where are you just now?’

  ‘I’m in my parents’ house so everything is cool’

  ‘Right well that’s fine’. After a slight hesitation he spoke again.

  ‘I have decided that I'm in mate, you can inform the people concerned’

  ‘Brilliant news pal, but I need to see the colour of your money by the second off January. Is that okay mate?’

  ‘That’s fine by me. Speak to you again soon’

  ‘You sound very polite mate, are you trying to impress some wee bit of skirt?’

  ‘You got it in one Francis, see you soon. Good-bye’

  ‘What does he mean good-bye; he must be in love with this bint if he's talking like that’ he laughed to himself, because his old pal would never have talked business with anyone else present, but the accent had sounded so unlike the Paul he knew.

  ‘The things we do for love’ he sang. ‘Or fuckin debt’. He muttered into his shaving mirror.

  He phoned his contact in Manchester and passed on the news about Paul.

  ‘Well done Frankie, just keep him sweet and in a few weeks you will be rolling in it’

  ‘Nothing new to me mate I’ve been rolling in it my whole life. Shite that is’

  ‘Then this is your chance to make a new start, who knows where it could lead’

  ‘Aye you're right; I’m just a wee bit down at the moment’

  ‘Keep your chin up and everything will be alright, you'll see’

  ‘Okay speak to you soon’

  He hung the phone up, and fumbled for a cigarette, but burnt his finger on the match.

  ‘Fuck this. I can’t stop my hands shaking enough to even light a smoke,’ he screamed.

  He went over and lay on the unmade bed in bedroom where he had spent his childhood.

  He took a swig from a bottle of whisky and tried to get his thoughts together.

  ‘How will this end? Will they stop at financial ruin or are their motives more sinister?’

  He could not satisfy himself with an answer, and tossed and turned until a fitful sleep was induced by the constant swigs from the bottle of spirits.

  FORTYNINE

  Alistair Orr answered the phone call in his study.

  ‘Hello 791 6046’

  ‘Hello Alistair its Paul, sorry to phone you at home, but I need to see you urgently’

  ‘Why, what on earth is wrong?’

  ‘I don't want to discuss it over the phone but I need to see you tomorrow morning first thing’.

  ‘Okay Paul, where will I meet you?’

  ‘You know the small tea room that wee Evelyn runs out near Balmore’

  ‘Yes, my wife and I use it often’

  ‘Well I’ll meet you in the roadway just beside it tomorrow morning at ten o'clock’

  ‘Fine Paul, see you then. Good-bye.’

  ‘Thanks Alistair. Good-bye’.

  He enjoyed the company of the various houseguests in Marion’s, it was such a change from the usual sex and football related conversations that were a part of his normal life.

  They were all well to do business and professional people. As at most gatherings of people the subject of work came up.

  Paul tried his best to steer the conversation in a different direction but to no avail.

  ‘What is it you do Paul? ‘Asked one of the guests.

  ‘Oh, the usual things. Buying and selling property or small businesses’.

  ‘Do you have anything decent for sale at the moment?’

  Said Marion'
s friend Fiona.

  ‘I will tell you why I ask. My son is now eighteen and it's time he was earning some money of his own. He is forever complaining that he can’t survive on his allowance of two hundred pounds a week. He said he feels like a pauper compared to his friends. He was not amused when I suggested that he change his friends’

  This was followed by mild laughter.

  ‘I don't think I have anything at the moment that would suit you but I will keep my eyes open for something suitable’

  ‘Thanks Paul you are a diamond. Marion you are a lucky girl’

  Marion raised her eyebrows apologetically in his direction.

  He joined in the silly party games that the rich seem to revel in. At one point, he went outside for some fresh air and spotted two of the guests smoking a joint. He tried vainly to escape before they spotted him but he was too late.

  ‘Paul come and joins us in a little decadence,’ Said Maxwell Kilpatrick.

  ‘No thanks Maxwell. I'm not into drugs except drink,’ he laughed.

  ‘Come on Paul’ coaxed Edward Blackly.

  ‘It's only a small amount of grass’

  ‘No thanks really, I don't like drugs’

  With that, he turned and went into the house.

  He was having a wee laugh to himself as Marion noticed him entering the room.

  ‘What's so funny darling?’

  ‘What's funny is that I have just been offered a joint by two of the Procurator Fiscals right hand men’

  She teased him by saying.

  ‘Ah! But darling the law does not apply to the rich, you should know that’

  ‘Yes darling you are right, money can buy immunity,’ they both laughed.

  He left Marion’s early in the morning on the pretext of going to the local shop to purchase a newspaper. When he was out of sight of the house, he phoned big Willie. The phone rang a few times then he answered in his usual manner.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It's me big man, can you pick me up later?’

  ‘Aye sure boss, when and where?’

  ‘Give me a call in about twenty minutes and say that you need to see me pronto. Okay?’

  ‘Sure boss. What's wrong is that wee bit of skirt too much for you?’

  ‘No chance of that big man. Remember I’m the original Italian stallion’