by Ian Todd
“It wis only meant tae be a wee slap, bit she tripped backwards and banged that heid ae hers oan the fireplace,” he’d sobbed and wailed incessantly, shaking his heid, clearly bewildered by the injuries tae his wife…or wis he?
The carnage up at the flat hid telt a different story aw thegither. It hid looked as if a riot hid taken place insteid ae a slap being dished oot, as claimed. The furniture in the living dining room hid been scattered and upturned, wae two ae the four dining chairs laying oan their sides. Even staunin four or five feet away, in amongst the debris strewn across the flair, her and Jean hid been able tae tell instantly that it wis a human tooth that wis oan the carpet in a pool ae matted hair and awready congealing blood. Wan ae the two pavement pounders who’d first arrived oan the scene, who wis clearly still in a state ae shock, hid informed them that the victim hid been lying, slumped oan her back, across the hearth ae the tiled fireplace, making strangled, gurgling noises fae the back ae her throat. He’d also admitted that he’d been too scared tae assist her by applying First Aid in case he’d made her condition worse. Wilma hid a picture in her heid ae the poor victim being dragged aboot the place by her hair. There hid been blonde clumps ae it leading oot ae the bedroom fae the dishevelled bed, its blankets hauf hinging aff the bottom, stretching oot in tae the lobby, where he’d proceeded tae drag her alang the hall, intae the living room. Her and Jean hid stood silently, taking everything in. They’d quietly nodded in agreement tae each other, where it hid been obvious he’d stoapped and continued wae the assault at the dining table, probably punching her in the face wae his fist, hence the front tooth lying oan the carpet. The basturt hid punched her so hard, she’d flown backwards, her erms probably flailing wildly, towards the fireplace. In amongst aw the scattered debris oan the flair, the make-up fae the victim’s empty shoulder bag, including her lipstick, eye-shadow, face cream, paper hankies and other shite, a crumpled sheet ae paper stood oot like a beacon fae under a wee opened, red Elastoplast tin. Call it intuition, bit her and Jean hid been oan tae it in a flash. The baith ae them hid knelt doon, their heids practically touching each other as they read whit hid been typed oan it. Despite blood and snot smeared across the paper, they’d been able tae read the full contents, wance Jean hid flicked the wee tin aff the tap ae it wae her pen. The motive fur the assault by Teddy Bare oan that poor wife ae his, could easily be explained within the neat typewritten lines. The letter, or statement ae some sort, hid accused Teddy Bare ae raping a polis colleague, Jessie McBride, noo calling hersel Pricilla Presley, back in the early 60s. The motive fur the assault they’d baith agreed oan at the time, wis that Lesley Bare hid confronted that man ae hers and he’d reacted by beating her up so badly, that she’d succumbed tae the ferociousness ae the assault and died ae her injuries. Efter drapping aff the accused at the station, making sure they’d bagged aw the clothes he wis wearing fur forensic examination, they’d left him sitting there in a tatty cotton gown and heided back tae the flat, where they’d started helping wae the door-tae-door enquiries. Oan the face ae it, it wis an open and shut case. Chief Inspector Teddy Bare hid murdered his wife efter she’d confronted him aboot raping a colleague back in the day. While he’d claimed that the injuries sustained hid been an accident, a few ae the neighbours hid gied initial statements confirming that the hiding that hid been dished oot tae Detective Constable Lesley Bare, his wife, hidnae been the first wan in their three years ae living in Annette Street. Efter first sitting in the car, writing up their initial observations, they’d heided across tae The Victoria efter receiving a radio message tae say that forensics wid still be a good few hours away. The victim hid looked as if she’d been in a car accident. Apart fae the fatal trauma tae the back ae her crushed skull fae the corner ae the tiled fireplace, the basturt hid punched oot her two front teeth, ripped hauf her hair oot by the roots, smashed in the socket ae her left eye and broken her nose. She’d looked nothing like the smiling photo they’d lifted fae the sideboard ae her staunin wae Teddy Bare, decked oot in an Elvis outfit similar tae whit the wee fattish boy ae aboot seven or eight hid been wearing, staunin in between them. Baith her and Jean only came across Teddy Bare occasionally oan their travels when they wur invited oot tae talk aboot their work wae the new recruits oot in Tulliallan, the training college in Alloa. Based in Pitt Street, he wis responsible fur the uniformed and civilian personnel based in the north and west ae the Clyde, including Central HQ doon in Turnberry Street, jist aff the Saltmarket. She wis noo relieved that they’d hid the sense tae haud back oan publicly identifying the victim and her assailant. Nowan could’ve imagined the fury that hid descended oan the service as the day hid worn oan. As well as two ae the tap gangsters in Glesga being arrested oan suspicion ae ordering the murder ae a young nurse efter she’d apparently heard some deathbed confession fae some auld gangster, Springburn’s Inspector Paddy McPhee and two Possilpark sergeants, Dave McGovern and Shane Priestly, hid also stood in the polis line-up oan the same charge. If that hidnae been bad enough, Inspector Duggie Dougan, The Gruesome Twosome’s boss up in Possil, hid died instantly, efter being blasted in the back wae a double-barrelled sawn-aff shotgun ootside the front door ae a young WPCs flat across in Hillheid, who he’d apparently been hivving an affair wae. Fae whit they’d picked up, as day turned in tae night, the young poliswummin, Collette James, wisnae under suspicion fur involvement in the murder. And jist in case anywan felt it couldnae get any worse, another big-time gangster, Honest John McCaffrey, owner ae wan ae the biggest domestic and commercial appliance shoaps in the city, ‘Honest John’s Kitchen Essentials,’ hid been assassinated in broad daylight, sitting in his swanky Rolls Royce oan Woodside Road a few hours earlier. The hurricane hid continued unabated when The Evening Citizen claimed that Strathclyde’s Assistant Chief Constable, Jack Tipple, wid be announcing his resignation while everywan wis sitting eating their cornflakes, waiting fur the next newsflash tae appear oan their TV screens. Aw polis leave across the city hid been cancelled and anywan wae any sense who hidnae awready left the toon, hid hunkered doon, hoping no tae be spotted, in case they wur sucked in tae the maelstrom that wis erupting oot ae control aw roond aboot them. The rumour mill hid been gathering pace efter it wis announced, before the storm hid goat up proper, that Superintendent Daddy Jackson fae Central hid been suspended, reasons unknown, earlier in the day. Her and Jean hid also picked up rumours that Bobby Mack, heid ae the north’s murder squad and his partner, Sergeant Sally Burke, hid also been arrested and wur currently being interrogated doon in Central. Mind you, Wilma telt hersel, that could jist be a heap ae malicious shite. People in the toon liked nothing better than a good mix ae made-up dribble tae dae the roonds, especially if it involved Glesga’s finest. She glanced at the clock jist as Morag let oot a wee sighing whimper beside her. She hid tae get some sleep. The morra wis gonnae be a long day. She’d ended up relenting against her better judgement. She’d nae choice. That ma ae hers wis coming tae stay fur a few days and nights, as she expected that her and Jean wid be sleeping oan the job. She wondered whit this WPC Collette James, the wan who’d been hivving an affair wae Inspector Duggie Dougan, wid hiv tae say fur hersel, efter her and Jean met up wae her across in Possil Polis Station first thing in the morning.
Chapter Four
The baith ae them exited the car fae where they’d parked it oan the opposite side ae the road fae the steel shuttered entrance ae Honest George’s Garage at the Keppochhill Road end ae Pinkston Drive. There wur a few parked-up cars sitting in front ae the building wae their bonnets gaping open or minus wheels, sitting oan jacks, waiting fur the tyres tae be put back oan tae them.
“You first,” Simon invited, chuckling, pulling open the stiff, single door wae the wonky office sign rattling aff the flaking paintwork, as Tony smiled oan the way past.
“Awright, Jean,” Tony asked the blonde receptionist, no missing a step, continuing in the direction ae the blue welding flashes and the sizzling sound ae metal oan metal being tacked thegither.
&nb
sp; “Oh, hello, Tony,” Jean Maguire, Peter The Runner’s other hauf replied, smiling.
“Hiv ye no drapped that bundle ae joy yet, Jean?” Simon asked, automatically looking at her extended belly oan the otherwise slender figure oan the way past.
“Ah wish.”
“Simon, c’mere. Check this oot,” Tony turned and called tae him, watching amused, as Simon side-skipped, avoiding the oil-stained patches oan the concrete flair, before kneeling doon and looking in tae wan ae the pits that hid a single decker bus squatting o’er the tap ae it.
“Baby, whit the fuck ur ye daeing?” Simon shouted.
“Whit dis it look like? Ah’m welding,” Baby Huey replied, tipping up his mask, exposing a big roond, sweaty baw-face.
“Ah kin see that, bit why is Honest George or wan ae his mechanics no daeing it?”
“Ah wanted tae make sure the job wis done right. Ah hid tae get the stupid basturts tae strip aff the last box they put oan due tae the depth ae it. We need tae make sure the power tae weight ratio ae the bus isnae compromised. Some ae they customs basturts might clock that it’s far too low oan its axles, despite hivving a busload ae school weans wae aw their gear in it,” Baby replied, shrugging, looking up at his handiwork. “How’s Johnboy?”
“Ah’ll tell ye when ye get oot ae they overalls and get that big fat arse ae yers across tae the meeting. We’ve a lot oan the day, so we hiv,” Tony reminded him, heidin in the direction ae Honest George’s back office.
The games hid awready started, he noted, as him and Simon entered, acknowledging the fleeting glances wae a wee nod.
“Right, who’s shat themsel?” Simon asked, as a few ae them nodded at Pat behind his back.
“Ah beg yer pardon, ya bunch ae lying pricks, ye,” Pat retorted, exaggerating his hurt. “When that arse ae mine lets rip, youse’ll soon aw know aboot it, so youse will. That’s that Stinky Ocean alang the road that youse ur smelling.”
“Don’t fucking try and wangle yer way oot ae it, Pat, ya big smelly dreep, ye,” Snappy Johnston hit him wae. “The place wis aw right before that arse ae yours arrived oan the scene.”
“Aye, ye know whit they say aboot the wans that bleat the loudest, eh?” Ben drawled tae everywan, nodding across tae Snappy, as it became Snappy’s turn tae allow an indignant expression tae take that face ae his hostage.
“Whit’s the joke?” Baby asked, entering the office, vigorously rubbing Swarfega intae they hauns ae his.
“You! Ye bloody let rip in here earlier, before fucking aff, knowing fine well that we wur gonnae be hivving the meeting in here the day, ya fat basturt, ye,” Snappy growled at him, no missing a trick tae pass the buck, as everywan, including Baby, laughed again.
“Serves ye right. Ah knew you’d be the wan tae be noised up,” Baby retorted, bodily lifting Snappy up oot ae the only comfy chair in the office, before settling in tae the seat wae a big sigh.
“Baby, ya big fucking tub ae lard, ye. That grease fae they hauns ae yours better no hiv stained that good jaicket ae mine’s, ya basturt, ye,” Snappy howled, haudin up his erm tae make sure it wisnae stained.
Tony sat leaning wae his arse against the edge ae Honest George’s desk. He always enjoyed being thegither wae them aw in the same room. He often wondered whit a criminal psychologist wid make ae whit he hid tae put up wae. The only two missing in action wur Johnboy and Silent. The Mankys wur a noisy bunch ae basturts when they wur happy, which wis something, he supposed. The round-up meetings, as Simon called them, wur few and far between these days. No because they wurnae intae each other’s company, bit because everywan hid been too busy keeping oan tap ae whit they hid oan their plates. There hid also been the security angle tae take in tae consideration as well. He’d been working hard tae get them tae keep their heids doon o’er the past year, while building up the financial side ae the businesses. That meant keeping Simon Epstein, Snappy Johnston and Ben McCallum oan a short leash. It hid been manageable…bit only jist. He looked across and lugged intae the shite Pat wis dribbling. Something aboot gold needing tae be 1945 degrees Fahrenheit, before it turned intae liquid. Pat hid finally goat the nod fae Wan-bob Broon tae get his hauns oan Papa Fraser’s jewellery shoap doon oan West Nile Street. Wan ae Simon’s carpet boys, his right haun man, Frankie Fritter, hid drapped a two hunnerweight roll ae carpet oan tap ae Papa fae two flights up, as he’d heided doon tae The Horseshoe Bar fur his usual lunchtime ritual ae a pint and a pie the previous year. If there hid ever been an example needed ae somewan stupidly letting their guard doon, then Papa hid been it. In their chosen line ae work, routine equalled suicide.
“Routine will always get ye in the end, so it will,” he’d been forever drumming intae them.
Whether they took it oan board, wis up tae them. Another recent example hid been when Simon and Ben hid blasted Honest John McCaffrey’s brains aw across the interior ae his fancy Roller the previous day. They’d easily managed tae nip the stupid basturt because he kept tae the same route while gaun roond picking up his money fae the punters who owed him, the stupid prick. They only used the garage every third or fourth get thegither. He’d tried tae cancel the current meeting oan account ae Honest John’s demise, bit he couldnae reach a few ae them, so hid decided tae risk it. Honest John copping his whack hid been oan the cards fur a wee while efter he’d ripped Simon aff o’er a carpet deal a few years earlier, so the news widnae hiv been unexpected tae Wan-bob Broon or Charlie Hastie. The Big Man, Pat Molloy, hid gied them the go-aheid a couple ae days efter Tony’d been liberated fae Dumfries the previous year. When they’d been younger, wan ae the easiest pickings in Springburn and Possil hid been the Provi Cheque men. Ye could set yer watch by the tenement closemooth they’d be up at any given time. It hid been like taking sweeties aff ae sleeping weans. There wur other examples he could think ae, like Kim Sui’s cousin, Wee Pie, another so-called fly-man who’d deserved aw he goat. He looked at the group lounging aboot in front ae him, who’d hiv everywan sitting chewing the cud until midnight if he didnae watch oot. He’d gie them another few minutes ae letting aff steam before roping them in. Despite the constant hassle ae trying tae get them tae agree oan anything collectively, they wurnae a bad wee team. The muscle oan a day tae day basis came fae Snappy and Ben, although they wur aw pretty handy as and when required. Jake McAlpine, backed up by Ben and Snappy, controlled the cocaine that shifted through the team. They’d only been in the coke trade a year, bit so far, Jake hidnae hid tae let Snappy and Ben loose oan anywan fur no coughing up when they wur supposed tae. The profits wur huge, bit then again, so wur the risks. Everywan hid learned a hard lesson in dealing in drugs, efter Wee Pie hid ripped them aff, sending hauf ae them doon fur three years efter refusing tae haun o’er money he’d owed. When Ben and Snappy wurnae riding shotgun, making sure the coke-line stayed intact, Peter wis shifting humongous amounts ae hash via the new taxi company The Mankys hid set up fur that sole purpose. Wan-bob Broon and that side kick ae his, Charlie Hastie, hid caused a bit ae a stir a wee while back efter they’d started up a door-tae-door pizza delivery service up in Springburn, the first home deliveries ae fast-food in the toon seemingly.
“They basturts ur daeing that deliberately tae fucking noise us up, so they ur,” Ben and Snappy hid howled.
“So whit? There’s room fur everywan, so there is,” Charlie Hastie hid hit them wae, efter Tony hid reluctantly allowed them tae convince him tae arrange a pow-wow wae Wan-bob’s right-haun man. “And anyway, we run the north, no youse wee arse bandits…and don’t youse furget it,” Hastie hid scowled, reminding them wance again, oan where their place wis in the great scheme ae things.
Of course, Charlie hid been spot-on, at least oan the ‘there’s room fur everywan’ front. Wan-bob and they bears ae his didnae dae much street business in Springburn, other than tae launder money through the tills ae the hauf dozen empty boozers and the couple ae bookie shoaps that they owned. As far as Tony hid been concerned, the money hid been pouring in by the bucket load, so whit the fuck the
problem wis wae them running pizza delivery vans hid been lost oan him.
“They’re daeing it deliberately because they know it’ll bloody well noise us up,” Ben hid bleated, suffering fae the same dose ae inflated importance that Snappy suffered fae.
There hid been nae placating them. Efter aw these years, Wan-bob still spoke tae The Mankys like some fucking wise auld owl. Snappy and Ben hid then gone aff and retaliated two days efter the meeting wae Charlie, withoot telling anywan, and hid held up a factor’s office doon in Bath Street in the toon centre. They’d made aff wae six grand efter blowing a hole in the plate glass windae ae the teller’s coonter while they wur at it. This, efter they’d aw been well warned by Wan-bob a few years earlier that the toon centre wis aff limits tae them withoot prior permission being sought and granted. The factor’s office raid hid cost them three grand, or fifty percent ae the take, wae a warning that any mair transgression doon there and somewan wis gonnae get a bullet in the back ae the heid. Efter splitting the proceeds, everywan hid been left wae a couple ae hunner quid each. Trying tae get the stupid basturts tae understaun that aw that effort hidnae been worthwhile, baith financially and in the good relations department, hid been like talking tae a pair ae mannequins doon in Jake’s clothes shoap windae. Oan tap ae that, there hid been the hassle ae trying tae explain the stupidity ae their actions, no only tae Wan-bob and they bears ae his, bit tae poor Pat, who wis noo trying tae explain the difference between 9ct gold and 18ct. Since the robbery, Pat hid been moaning like fuck and gieing everywan a hard time, as he’d been in the latter stages ae negotiating wae Wan-bob aboot getting outright ownership ae the jeweller’s shoap. Pat reckoned Snappy and Ben’s pathetic retaliatory transgression hid cost him dear in the negotiations. There wis never a dull moment in the day and life ae a Manky these days, he mused tae himsel. He looked across at The Carpet Blagger. Simon hid been left in charge when him, Snappy and Pat hid been serving a three-year stint doon in Dumfries, aw thanks tae that Wee Pie prick.
