‘Thank you. Significance of this information?’ asked Findlater.
‘McCusker was taken from the safe house yesterday evening by two of Tiny Jardine’s thugs,’ said Montgomerie. ‘He was taken to Tiny Jardine’s ranch-style bungalow near Barrhead. His clothes were taken from him, he was bound and gagged and tortured with branding irons which Tiny Jardine had brought back from a trip he had made to the States. Apparently they once belonged to a ranch called the Split R. We’ll probably find that the fibres under McCusker’s toenails came from Tiny Jardine’s,carpet. McCusker was being tortured in order to make him say what he had advertised about his involvement with the Jardine organization. Eventually he was shot just before midnight, and his clothes replaced on his body, which was then dumped.’
‘How do you work that out?’ Findlater stared at Montgomerie with cold, keen eyes. Donoghue too had discovered a new alertness.
‘Because I visited Tiny Jardine on Sunday. I told him about McCusker.’
The ensuing silence was similar to that which follows the sudden slam of a door in a large house which is supposed to be empty save for the listener. Finally Findlater spoke. Turning to Elka Willems he said, ‘Don’t minute that.’
There was another silence.
‘I don’t know why I went. I told him about McCusker when I became angry after he offered me a bribe.’
There was a third silence, broken when Donoghue said, ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’
‘You mean that this is the end of the line for DC Montgomerie? Yes, I’ve thought of that.’
‘Probably you’re right but that isn’t up to anybody here,’ replied Donoghue. ‘What I mean is that through your actions you have caused a man to lose his life. You even had opportunity to tell me this when you saw McCusker being taken from the safe house. We would have been able to save him.’
In the moments which followed Montgomerie noticed for the first time that the clock on the wall of Findlater’s office had a barely audible tick. Then he said. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
10.06 a.m. Ray Sussock drove off the ferry and parked the car near the harbour. He cashed a cheque at a bank and walked along Rothesay front to a hotel and took breakfast. He ordered the full spread with two eggs and heavy on the mushrooms and washed it down with a gallon of tea. Feeling more like a human being, he drove to the southern tip of Bute and knocked up a bemused Mrs Spicer. ‘No, I can’t tell you what it’s about. I’m sorry, madam. Please hurry, I’d like to catch the next ferry.’
10.13 a.m. Montgomerie was first in the room. Tex started to go for him but backed down when he saw Findlater’s bulk looming behind Montgomerie. Donoghue was third, then three constables, then Elka Willems. One constable remained outside the front door of the house.
‘The front door wasn’t locked,’ said Montgomerie by way of explanation to Tiny Jardine, who had suddenly lost all the colour from his face.
‘What…how…’ Jardine started to stutter.
Montgomerie walked across the floor of the room to the hearth and picked up the branding irons. ‘I was afraid you would have destroyed them by now,’ he said. He took the irons over to Findlater, who examined them and then gave them to the constable, who left the house. There was a strong smell of disinfectant in the room and Montgomerie drew Findlater’s attention to a recently applied area of plastering on the wall near the door.
‘We’ll probably find the bullet in there,’ said Findlater.
‘Strong smell of cleaning agents, Tiny,’ said Montgomerie. ‘Been cleaning up some mess?’
‘Wasn’t the money good enough?’ snarled Jardine.
‘That won’t work,’ said Donoghue calmly.
‘So he’s told you he came here, has he, asked for money?’ Jardine pointed accusingly at Montgomerie.
‘That’s not quite what he said and I’d believe him before I’d believe you.’
‘I suppose you have a warrant?’
‘Of course,’ replied Donoghue, tapping his jacket pocket. ‘We like to do these things properly. Would you like to see it?’
Tiny Jardine shook his head. Then he asked, ‘What is all this about anyway?’
‘Feller called McCusker,’ said Montgomerie. ‘We found the body at Bishopbriggs this morning.’
Tiny Jardine glared suddenly at Tex, who looked at the floor.
‘What’s the matter?’ Donoghue asked. ‘Did you tell him to dump the body in the river or something?’
‘I was tired, boss…’
‘Shaddup!’ snapped Tiny Jardine.
‘It’s always the little things that trip up the big ones,’ said Donoghue to Findlater, but loud enough for Jardine to catch it.
‘I want my solicitor,’ said Jardine.
‘He’s in gaol,’ said Montgomerie.
‘He’s turned Queen’s Evidence,’ said Findlater.
‘Told us about the accounts of Deneave Holdings,’ said Montgomerie.
‘Which we are presently reading with great interest,’ said Donoghue.
‘The little rat,’ said Tiny Jardine.
Donoghue turned to Tex and casually asked, ‘Did you throw the murder weapon away too?’
‘No, it’s…’ said Tex and then looked like he wanted to be some place else.
‘You stupid bastard,’ sighed Tiny Jardine as he sank on to the settee.
Findlater ordered that the house be searched.
Elka Willems found Susie in a chair in the room at the end of the corridor labelled The Waterhole. She was nursing a not very full bottle of vodka and was sobbing gently. She looked like she’d been punched around the face a couple of times.
‘Tiny did this?’ asked the tall policewoman.
Susie nodded. Elka Willems’s uniform didn’t seem to concern her.
‘For why?’
‘Because I shot that guy.’
‘You shot him?’
‘Aye, for to stop him screaming. He’d been screaming for hours, even through the gag he was screaming, and the smell when Tiny pushed the iron on to him…ugh!’ The girl shuddered. ‘I couldn’t stand it no longer so I went to where Tiny keeps his guns and I got one and went right up to the guy and…’
‘OK hen, OK. I think you’ve had enough, let me take this, eh?’ There was a brief tug of war with the bottle but Susie finally let it go.
‘So where does Tiny keep his guns?’
‘Over there.’ Susie pointed to a bar which ran across the far wall. There were a few glasses and a bottle standing on it. ‘It hinges up,’ she said.
‘Is that where the murder weapon is, love?’
‘No. I threw it in the pool. Tiny came at me so I ran and found myself next to the pool. I lobbed the gun in because I was afraid I’d shoot Tiny if I didn’t chuck it away. Mind you, now I…’
‘It would only have been worse for you. Do you mind if I put these on you?’
‘They’re not like the ones in the films.’
‘They’re not, are they? These are handcuffs, leather, female prisoners for the use of.’
Montgomerie and Donoghue stood by the edge of the swimming-pool. On the bottom of the pool underneath the diving-board was a .38 revolver. Despite the shimmering image of the gun both police officers could see that the hammer was cocked. Susie had come a lot closer to shooting Tiny Jardine than she had admitted, or had realized. Montgomerie slung the towel he was carrying across the rails of a jogging machine. He peeled off his jacket and unclipped his tie.
‘What do you think my chances are, sir?’ he asked.
‘Of staying in the force? They’re good, Montgomerie, they’re very good, if you want to stay in. You didn’t take the bribe and you did report the incident. But you’ve damaged yourself, you’ve got a lot of ground to win back before you can even dream of promotion. What happened to McCusker happened because of your stupidity and it’s you that has to live with that, not the police force.’
Donoghue walked back down the side of the swimming-pool. As he reached the far end of the pool he h
eard a loud splash behind him, as though Montgomerie had thrown himself at the water, rather than dived in.
Donoghue walked into the main room of the house where Tiny Jardine and Tex stood each handcuffed to a police constable. He walked across the room, feeling in his jacket pocket as he did so, and then stopped in his tracks. He’d left his pipe on a wall in Bishopbriggs.
The trial of Susie Currie, the Jardine brothers and John Spicer took place in the High Court of Glasgow two months later, with psychiatric reports being requested in respect of one defendant. Susie Currie’s plea of not guilty to murder was accepted by the Crown and she was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment on the lesser charge of culpable homicide. Phil Jardine was sentenced to five years’ imprisonment for fraud, Income Tax evasion and conspiracy to rob. Tiny Jardine was sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment for conspiracy to rob, fraud, malicious wounding, assault to severe injury, and offences under the Firearms Act. And John Spicer was dragged screaming from the dock, having been sentenced to be detained at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.
Fair Friday Page 18
