One Hundred And Twelve Days

by Ian Todd

  “How’s the sea bass?”

  “Clearly expensive. Ye’ve come a long way fae throwing a lump a shite intae Salty Tony’s fryer back in The Toonheid,” she replied curtly, wanting tae bite that tongue ae hers aff, as he burst oot laughing.

  “Aye, Ah widnae expect tae see too many nurses sitting in a place like this if they knew they wur gonnae be picking up the tab,” he agreed, enjoying her wee dig, nipping away there, looking fur a negative reaction fae him.

  “Tony, it wis you that chose this place. Ah wid’ve been mair than happy providing ye wae a sandwich up at ma flat, so Ah wid’ve.”

  “Aye, well, Ah awready hid business tae take care ae here in the toon centre or Ah wid’ve taken ye up oan yer offer.”

  “So…Johnboy said that ye’d offered him a flat?”

  “Aye.”

  “Aye, whit?”

  “Aye, Ah offered him a flat…fur as long as he needs it,” he added.

  “Bit it never entered yer heid that maybe we’d discussed aboot him moving in wae me?”

  “And yer pal, Lizzie?”

  “And Lizzie.”

  “Whit, ye hivnae goat a problem wae me offering tae help, hiv ye?”

  “Dae ye no think that it might’ve been better if ye’d come and spoken tae me first?”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, Tony, stoap playing bloody mind games. You deliberately put a spoke in the wheels by offering Johnboy that flat.”

  “Ye’re making it sound as if Ah’m up tae no good here. Fuck, and here’s me thinking Ah wis daeing ma best pal a favour.”

  “Tony, don’t hit me wae that crap. You know fine well that me and Johnboy ur gonnae hiv a go at making a life thegither. Everywan knows that.”

  “Dae they?”

  “Oh, fuck off, Tony,” she hissed, looking aboot at the other diners tae see if they’d heard her outburst.

  “Okay, so maybe the reason Ah didnae come and speak tae ye is because ye wur too busy making plans, excluding people that might’ve wanted tae be in there helping oot as well.”

  Silence.

  “You knew fine well whit the situation wis wae us.”

  “Did Ah?”

  “If you really want tae help Johnboy, let him go,” she pleaded, as he laughed dismissively. “Whit’s so funny?”

  “Senga, ye don’t know Johnboy. Ye think ye dae, bit believe me, ye don’t.”

  “Ah’ve known him fur a lot longer than you hiv. Ah sat beside him in class fae when we wur five years auld…remember?”

  “So, why his it taken ye aw this time tae realise that he’s so special? So, ye’ve written him a letter every week fur the past eighteen months efter sending him a Dear John when he wis at his lowest. Ah’ve…we’ve…never doubted him.”

  He’d gie her ten seconds before she stood up and walk oot, he telt himsel, wondering if she’d gie him a sherricking before she did, as he started tae coont slowly. Wan, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

  “So, how dae ye think he’d feel if he knew you, supposedly his best pal, wis sitting here speaking tae his girlfriend, the way you’ve jist done?”

  “Senga, Ah’m no here tae show ye any disrespect, bit ye’ve goat tae admit, there’s jist a wee bit ae naivety coming oot ae that lovely mooth ae yours. The way ye’re talking tends tae suggest that ye clearly hivnae come up wae an alternative plan if yer life wae Johnboy disnae work oot the way ye’ve obviously goat it aw planned.”

  “So, you’re saying that you’re intending tae stoap us getting thegither?”

  “That’s your words, no mine.”

  “So, whit ur ye saying?”

  “Aw Ah’m saying is, don’t put the squeeze oan Johnboy jist noo when he’s feeling vulnerable. He’s telt ye himsel. He needs a bit ae time.”

  “That’s rich coming fae you. He wis coming tae stay at mine, where he’d get a better understanding ae whit his needs ur.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Naw, no exactly, Tony. Ah’m talking aboot his medical needs here. Johnboy’s been very ill. You know fine well that he died oan route in the ambulance coming up fae Dumfries. Even when they discharge him, he’s still gonnae need medical care. Living wae me…us, will ensure he gets the best ae that. Surely even you kin see that?” she fumed, drapping her cutlery loudly oan tae the plate in exasperation, attracting glances fae the nearest tables.

  “And the trial?”

  “Trial? Whit trial?”

  “That wee nurse…whit’s her name?”

  “Rose Bain?”

  “That’s her. Apart fae yer flatmate being the star witness fur the prosecution, you gied a statement as well, explaining how ye came across yer flatmate aw distressed, efter yer dirty weekend wae the rapist doctor…remember?” he reminded her pleasantly.

  “Bit…”

  “Ah’m no sure that it wid dae that wee nurse’s case any good if it came oot that another ae the key witnesses involved in The Stalker’s corrupt practices, as well as Lizzie Mathieson hersel, wis shacking up wae Johnboy Taylor.”

  “Bit…”

  “Aw Ah’m daeing here is trying tae keep things oan an even keel. Leave Johnboy oot ae this. Remember, he’s goat his ain problems wae that stalking basturt, lying up there in The Bar-L. Irrespective ae the ootcome ae the nurse’s trial, that crooked, corrupt prick will still hiv tae answer fur covering up the evidence ae no disclosing the details that proved Johnboy wis innocent ae being in that bank. Even if The Stalker gets found not guilty up at The High Court oan the murder charge, they’ll gate-arrest him five minutes efter the trial and charge the basturt wae perverting the course ae justice by stitching Johnboy up. Fuck, ye should see the sentences they dish oot nooadays fur that kind ae stuff,” he said, smiling.

  Silence.

  “Why is it that Ah feel that this is aw jist a bit too convenient fur you, Tony?” she asked him, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes fur the first time since she sat doon.

  “You’ll believe whit ye want tae, Senga, bit whether ye like it or no, Ah’m still gonnae be looking oot fur Johnboy’s interests.”

  “And whit aboot ma interests?”

  “You’re interests ur included in there as well.”

  “Why hiv you always been a wedge between us, Tony? Whit hiv Ah ever done tae deserve this?”

  “Noo it’s you that’s being irrational. Ah’ve never stood in Johnboy’s road when it came tae you. In fact, if the truth be known, Ah’ve always encouraged him tae get thegither wae you. If he hid’ve, it could’ve saved him…and us, a lot ae shit.”

  “Ah don’t believe ye.”

  “Ach, well, Ah’m sure whitever ye believe, ye’ll live. Ah’ve done a lot mair fur you…and yer pals, than ye’ve ever gied me credit fur.”

  “Fur example?”

  “Jist take ma word fur it, Senga. If ye don’t believe me, ask lover boy the next time ye’re up at the hospital visiting him. Ah’m no the basturt that ye paint me oot tae be…none ae us ur. Sweet?” he asked her, smiling, nodding across tae the maître d, as Baby Huey started oan his second mountain ae Spaghetti Bolognese across near the door and the sound ae the engines ae the buses revved up ootside oan Hope Street, as a couple walked in jist as the lights oan the corner turned green.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Whit–the-fuck?” Chief Officer Blank gasped tae Senior Officer Marshall, the baith ae them gawping, staunin at the heid ae the untried prisoner’s food queue, as Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie casually sauntered past the other prisoners towards them.

  Wan-bob, his face set in his best poker-face mask, wis decked oot in a Paisley patterned silk dressing gown wae a matching silk purple belt haudin it shut. Wrapped aroond that neck ae his, he hid a gold silk scarf, tied cravat style. The dull light fae the skylight windaes running the length ae the cavernous roof ae C-hall, still managed tae seek oot and reflect aff the pea-sized, large polished Amethyst precious stone stud, squatting in the middle ae it. Below the blue piped cotton pyjama troosers fae Hurley and Withers, shirt
and pyjama makers By Appointment tae The Duke ae Edinburgh himsel, his feet wur encased in haun-made slippers, fae Foster & Sons Ae Jermyn Street, wan ae London’s maist exquisite slipper-makers, also By Appointment tae The Duke ae Edinburgh.

  “Fuck, it’s Mr Bridger!” a young voice fae in amongst the untried prisoners exclaimed, as everywan in the queue burst oot laughing before Wan-bob stoapped and aboot turned and glared at everywan in his maist casual Luca Brasi look, as the grinning faces froze and the chattering queue went deathly silent.

  “Chief Blank?’ Wan-bob acknowledged pleasantly, nodding tae The Chief, as he picked up a steel tray and bowl, before him and Charlie, followed by his three heavies, picked up a breid roll each and held oot their bowls fur a scoop ae lumpy porridge.

  “Mr er… Broon…er, Bob…” The Chief coughed, tipping his hat at Wan-bob’s back, looking embarrassed, as aw the grinning untried prisoners chortled quietly amongst themsels, looking at him and the startled SO beside him.

  “Well, whit dae ye think then?” Wan-bob asked, entering the cell behind Charlie’s back.

  “That wis so fucking funny, so it wis. Did ye see the look oan that stupid basturt’s coupon?” Charlie howled, laughing like fuck. “The prick didnae know whether tae greet first before he bowed.”

  “Ah’m telling ye, how Ah never pished they good pyjamas ae mine, Ah’ll never know,” Wan-bob agreed, laughing as he sat doon.

  “Honestly, Bob, that wis fucking funny, so it wis.”

  “Aye, there’s nothing like a wee bit ae a noise-up ae they stupid twats first thing in the morning tae start the day aff, so there’s no,” Wan-bob agreed, happily tearing open his breid roll.

  “That glaiket-looking SO staunin beside him? He’s intae his motors, so he is. He’s goat an auld green 1935 Morgan F-2 that he polishes when he’s no in here. Saves him hivving tae talk tae that hacket, baw-faced wife ae his apparently, so it dis.”

  “Get wan ae the Garngad crowd tae deal wae it. We’ll hiv tae start ratcheting up a gear.”

  “Whit ur ye wanting done wae that pair ae McGregor dealers that placed themsels oan protection efter being refused bail?”

  “Nothing. We’ve goat enough oan oor plates tae be getting oan wae. Talking ae which, any word ae whit that McGregor crowd ur up tae?”

  “Benny Stevenson wis in the toon at the weekend wae his bit ae stuff hinging aff his erm and Danny said that Jimmy McGregor wis spotted heided towards the Clyde Tunnel oan oor side ae the river.”

  “Who wis wae him?”

  “He wis oan his lonesome.”

  Silence.

  “It could be innocent.”

  “Aye, right,” Wan-bob muttered, biting intae his stale roll. “And The Mankys?”

  “Keeping their heids doon. Gucci wis spotted in La Tanterna’s oan Hope Street the other day there.”

  “Whit time?”

  “Lunchtime. He wis wae some dame. Peter The Plant thinks it wis that nurse that Johnboy Taylor’s engaged tae. Peter The Runner and Ben McCalumn wur also clocked coming oot ae DIRTY JAKE’S doon oan Buchanan Street.”

  “Who spotted them?”

  “Tony Lick…and before ye ask, he thinks they clocked him, which is no a bad thing. It’ll let them know we’re watching them.”

  “Nothing unusual there. Maybe they wur doon picking up ma good outfit fae Jake,” Wan-bob replied, loosening aff his purple silk belt, smiling.

  “The Goat said it took him ten minutes tae persuade McAlpine that he wisnae taking the piss, efter asking him tae get ye whit ye wur efter. It wis only when Gucci’s wee Chinky girlfriend arrived oan the scene and whispered in Jake’s ear that The Goat wis scaring the other customers in the shoap, that he agreed tae see whit he could come up wae.”

  “Aye, well, you mind and let McAlpine know that he done himsel proud,” Wan-bob replied, as they baith cackled.

  “Dae ye no think it wis strange Gucci no mentioning oor charge when ye hid him up?”

  “Naw. He couldnae gie a monkey’s fuck why we’re in here. The main thing is, Ah want that manky-arsed crowd watched day and night, so Ah dae. Ah still don’t trust that Atalian no tae be plotting and planning behind oor backs. Whit’s the score across in the hospital wing?”

  “Nowan’s allowed near them. The wing’s jist alang tae the right as ye arrive at the tap ae the stairs. There’s a barred gate hauf way alang the corridor tae stoap anywan getting near them. The grub’s taken up in metal containers and left oan a table oan this side ae the gate. Wan ae the screws dish it up tae them fae there, before passing the trays through a wee built-in slot in the bars, wide enough tae take a tray. They sit playing cards or reading in a day room. At night, they’re aw in the main dormitory. There’s eighteen beds in it, bit there’s jist the four ae them in there.”

  “Four?”

  “There’s another bizzy…an inspector…murdered that wife ae his across in Govanhill.”

  “How come we didnae pick that wan up?” Wan-bob asked, nodding tae that day’s Glesga Echo sitting oan the chair between their beds.

  “He goat charged the same day as us. It’s that Teddy Bare wan. Thinks he’s Elvis, so he dis. Dae ye no remember? He tried tae wangle winning that heap ae scrap, the 1957 pink Cresta PA, that Greasy Jake couldnae get shot ae because it wis falling apart. We put it up as the star prize fur that Elvis competition across in The Plaza a while back. The stupid basturt tried tae bribe Chip Munk wae a couple ae hunner bucks. Corrupt as fuck. He wis based doon in Pitt Street. No a real bizzy. Personnel or something. That wife ae his wis a poliswummin as well, so she wis. A lot younger than him. Tallish blonde thing wae nice tits. No bad looking either fae whit Ah heard…fur a bizzy.”

  “Whit the fuck wis somewan as good looking as her daeing wae a prick like him?”

  “She’s a poliswummin…who the fuck else wid entertain her? Plus, he wis an inspector.”

  “So, why did we no read aboot it? Surely something like that wid’ve been picked up.”

  “Who knows? It wis a domestic. Maybe his background wisnae declared in court when he wis up, before being remanded. Ye know whit these basturts ur like? Always trying tae protect their ain, so they ur.”

  “Find oot whit the score wis. As ye said yersel, if he’s being getting a haun fae behind the scenes, it might come in handy. There’s probably a lot mair in there that we don’t know aboot. And another thing, we’re gonnae hiv tae dae something aboot aw this shite in the papers aboot us. Fuck, even Ah don’t recognise masel, Ah’m that bad,” he said, as the baith ae them chuckled.

  “Hoi, you’re awright. Look, they’ve goat me doon as the wan that dis aw the damage oan your say-so, as if Ah’m some sort ae message boy or something, the fuck-wits.”

  “Right, back tae the hospital wing. There must be somebody allowed in there other than the screws.”

  “Dave Pollock fae Denniston. He’s daeing six months fur punching some bizzy ootside The Alexandra Bar oan Duke Street. Ah won’t tell ye whit him and the rest ae the cons in the kitchen ur putting in they grub tins or it’ll put ye aff yer porridge,” Charlie said, as the baith ae them laughed. “Anyway, he’ll know. It’s him that takes the grub up and draps it aff beside the barred gate in the corridor. Ah’ll get oan tae it wance we’re oot in the yard at eleven.”

  “Fine. Ah’m seeing Joshua Crankie this morning aboot whit they’ve goat against us. We’ll also need tae look at whit QC he’s lining up fur us,” Wan-bob hid jist said, when the baith ae them looked across at the sound ae scratching oan the other side ae the cell door.

  “Aye, is that you, Tam?” Charlie asked, efter nipping across tae the door.

  “Aye. Jist tae let you and Bob know, wan ae that manky-arsed crowd fae Springburn his jist been lifted fur that hit oan Honest John McCaffrey.”

  “Whit wan?”

  “The Runner.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Graham Portoy looked up fae the file sitting in front ae him, as the door opened and Elspeth Jefferson, the company’s maist recently a
ppointed junior partner entered. She wis twenty-five, ambitious, extremely smart and mair importantly, ruthless in pursuit ae justice oan behauf ae her clients. If she hid a fault, it wis that she’d staun oot in any crowd, particularly if there wur men aboot. Nowan wid ever accuse her ae being able tae blend in. Surprisingly, aw her female clients, despite her astonishingly good looks, respected her skills as a lawyer…that wis, until recently. She wis jist whit the firm wis looking fur tae expand their client portfolio base. She’d been daeing some work, assisting him wae Michelle Hope’s campaign group tae free Johnboy Taylor, bit the client she’d been working wae the maist, hid been the group fighting the conspiracy charges levelled against the polis in the death ae Rose Bain, the nurse who’d been killed in a hit-and-run ootside Stobhill Hospital the previous year. Through that connection, the firm’s work fae the unions hid increased and noo she wis sitting wae eight employment cases, three ae which wur high profile. If she did hiv a fault, it wis that she wis maybe a bit too cocky. He knew whit she wis coming tae speak tae him aboot. He also wondered if she knew aboot him being caught in the sack wae Glenda Metcalfe, wan ae the city’s procurator fiscals who’d been the co-ordinating link between The Crown Office oot in Edinburgh and the polis here in the toon, in obstructing the defence team in accessing The Stalker’s service notebook, up until the day The Crown case collapsed against Johnboy Taylor. According tae the firm’s tap precognition officer, Swansea, there hidnae been any gossip aboot him and Glenda Metcalfe oan the go.

  “Elspeth? You wanted a word?” he asked, as she sat doon opposite him.

  “Have any of the Springburn clients been in touch yet?”

  “No, but that isn’t unusual. Johnboy Taylor’s free, so I wouldn’t expect to hear from any of them. He’s still in The Royal Infirmary, I believe.”

  “And the girls?”

  “You’re their brief. They’re hardly likely to be in touch with me.”

  “I was supposed to be meeting with Geraldine Baker and Senga Jackson but they’ve cancelled…twice. That’s unusual…a first.”