One Hundred And Twelve Days

by Ian Todd

  “Naw.”

  “So, there ye go then. We’re under the spotlight, so we ur.”

  “Aye, ye better get yersel a clean pair ae underpants, Pat,” Jake said, as everywan laughed.

  “This is fucking useless, so it is,” Peter grumbled. “That’s you wae that Honest John McCaffrey, Simon.”

  “Me?”

  “It’s fucking obvious he’s been dealing wae they McGregor basturts behind everywan’s back. Everything wis gaun awright until you and that psycho sitting across there decided tae get shot ae him,” Peter continued tae bleat. “Ah’m fucking sick ae aw this shite. As if Ah’ve no goat enough oan ma plate.”

  “Aye, well, it wisnae you he ripped aff,” Simon reminded him.

  “Ye goat aw yer money back and mair, efter rattling they tills ae his.”

  “It’s the principle.”

  “Aye, you tell him, Simon,” Ben chipped in, as everywan laughed again.

  “Okay, so where ur we?” Pat demanded tae know.

  “Baby?” Tony asked, as everywan looked o’er at him.

  “It’ll probably be the same routine as when they took oot Black Pat and Streaky John…”

  “How dae we know that it wisnae Wan-bob that took oot that inspector?” Peter interrupted him. “Remember whit Sleazy Donald said tae me? He didnae think the black butchers wur involved. Ah mean, who the fuck wid shoot a bizzy…an inspector at that?”

  “Ah think we hiv tae wait and see whit happens next,” Tony telt them. “This puts Wan-bob in a sticky situation. He won’t want tae raise the temperature in the toon anymair than it awready is, if he’s smart. If he’s tae wangle his way oot ae that murder charge, he’ll want tae keep his and Charlie’s name aff the front page. The bizzies will be aw o’er the shoap trying tae figure oot who done it. The Glesga Echo hid a photo description ae the transit oan their front page this morning, so they did. It’ll be the same wae The Citizen and The Times the night. The bizzies will be turning the toon upside doon, looking fur it.”

  “So, where dae we figure in aw this, seeing as we know who done the damage?” Pat wanted tae know.

  Silence.

  “Ah think they’ll still go oan the hunt fur who did it, bit they’ll keep it low key due tae the impending trial,” Baby volunteered. “Wan-bob won’t want his or Charlie’s name splashed aw o’er the papers if there’s a big gang war exploding aw o’er the place. Ye kin expect a shout up tae the visiting room, probably sometime next week, wance the dust settles doon a wee bit, Tony.”

  “So, dae we tell them aboot Seb Grey and that Chic Campbell prick?”

  “Ah’m no sure,” Tony replied, pursing his lips. “The chances ur, they might awready know aboot them operating in the toon. If they find oot we knew, bit didnae declare it, they might blame us. Ma gut feeling is tae keep quiet and work oot the lay ae the land.”

  “So, where dis that leave us?”

  “Wan-bob will try and draw us in.”

  “Well, they kin fuck right aff,” Snappy growled. “Ah telt youse we should’ve went fur them when we hid the chance. Noo we’re gonnae be in the firing line, so we ur.”

  “If this blows in tae a full scale rammy, we’ll mair than likely be targeted either by Wan-bob fur no backing him up or The McGregors, who’ll see us as being behind him anyway. Either way, we’ll probably get drawn in eventually,” Tony surmised.

  “Whit’s your thoughts, Johnboy?” Simon asked him. “Ye’ve been awfully quiet sitting there.”

  “Ah agree wae whit Baby and Tony jist said. Either way, they’ll try and get us involved. If The McGregors think they’ve goat a good chance here, they won’t leave us staunin, that’s fur sure. They’ll go fur a clean sweep, so they will. That’s whit we wid dae.”

  Silence.

  “Is that it?” Jake asked him.

  “Ah think we need tae play Wan-bob at his ain game. At least that’ll gie us a bit ae control…and time.” Johnboy said.

  “And?” Jake persisted.

  “When Tony goes up tae see him, he plays hard tae get. That’s whit Wan-bob will expect.”

  “Bit, we fall intae place? Is that whit ye’re saying?”

  “Whit Ah’m saying is, we probably don’t hiv any choice, bit we kin control how we play it. He knows fine well we urnae gonnae take orders fae the likes ae Danny Murphy. Look at how The McGregors ur playing their haun. They’ve goat aw that young team ae there’s, like us, in there, so they hiv. We play them at their ain game.”

  “Like?”

  “Like, Wan-bob will want tae go fur The McGregors if aw the guns start blazing, which means he’ll probably fuck up and end up getting aw they bears ae his wasted…and us behind them. Why don’t we let oorsels be persuaded, under duress, tae help the auld basturt oot, bit put a rider oan how we play it?”

  “Oor way,” Tony laughed.

  “Ah’m no taking any orders or any other kind ae shit fae that wanker, Murphy, or Peter The Fuck-wit Plant,” Ben declared tae nods.

  “Nowan’s saying ye hiv tae. We tell Wan-bob, efter humming and hawing, that we won’t officially get involved. He his tae agree tae gie us a free reign, withoot Danny or Peter The Plant dishing oot orders tae us,” Johnboy said.

  “Hiv any ae you goat a fucking clue whit the hell Friar Tuck here’s oan aboot, because Ah hivnae?”

  “Oan ye go, Johnboy,” Tony laughed, reaching across and lifting Peter’s bottle ae Irn Bru up aff the flair.

  “Pat, reach across and gie him a glass.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Peter. Ah want tae hear how Ah’m gonnae end up deid alangside youse useless basturts,” Pat growled impatiently tae Peter. “Oan ye go, Johnboy. This better be good.”

  “The only way we’re gonnae convince Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie aboot oor honest intentions, is if ye gie the impression that we’ll end up delivering whit he’s really efter,” Johnboy said, as Tony and Simon gied each other a wee glance.

  “Hiv Ah missed something here?” Peter asked everywan.

  “Papa McGregor’s heid oan a plate,” Tony laughed.

  “Aye, he’ll be trying tae convince us tae go oot and dae the business, while aw his crowd sit back and watch us getting wiped oot. Fuck him. String him alang. Gie him something ae a wee tantaliser that he kin look forward tae, further doon the road. Hopefully, by that time, things might’ve cooled doon a wee bit. As Baby his jist pointed oot, wae the trial coming up in February, he won’t want ‘The last Fight At The OK Corral’ before the trial, will he? Tony kin eventually be persuaded we’ll get involved, bit oan oor ain terms. Tell the grumpy basturt that we’ll deal wae the younger crowd meantime…bit oan oor terms.”

  “There’s no way he’ll go fur that,” Snappy said dismissively.

  “He won’t be happy, bit if he thinks he’s still getting some comeback, playing The McGregors at their ain game, wae us daeing the business, it’ll suit him and Charlie fine, fur the time being. Aw the bizzies in the toon will be expecting a big war tae erupt. Wan-bob will be mair than happy tae disappoint them…at least, until sometime in February.”

  “Johnboy, Ah thought ye wurnae getting involved anymair?” Jake asked him.

  “Ah’m no. Ah’m jist saying, that’s aw,” he replied, as everywan laughed.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  “Shaky, ya ugly wee gnome, ye, how’s it gaun?” Wan-bob asked, efter the cell door hid been unlocked and the auld pass-man entered.

  “Ach, ye know whit like, Bob.”

  “Grab a pew,” Charlie invited, sliding alang the bed.

  “Ah’m sorry tae hear aboot The Goat. He wis wan ae the better wans, wis Timothy. Knew him since we wur weans, so Ah did.”

  “Aye, there’s a lot ae skulduggery oan the go these days, Shaky…fucking liberty takers taking advantage.”

  “Am Ah okay tae hiv a wee smoke?”

  “You jist puff away, Shaky. Ye’ll need tae use the bin as we don’t hiv an ashtray, so we don’t,” Charlie replied, as the auld con withdrew his tobacco fae his shirt pock
et wae they shaking hauns ae his.

  “So, whit’s the score then?” he asked them, licking the fag paper and rolling it tae seal in the tobacco.

  “They bizzies across oan the hospital wing? Whit’s the access like?”

  “Tight. Nowan’s allowed near them. Their grub is passed through the gate in the corridor. Ah get in tae clean the dorm and the shithoose, bit only when they’re lounging aboot in the day room.”

  “So, whit ur they up tae during the day?”

  “They jist sit and play cards and argue o’er shite. That Stalker wan his that heid ae his stuck in a Gideon’s bible maist ae the time, so he his. He’s getting oan their tits awready. They kin watch the telly through the glass, bit they hiv tae ask fur the channels tae be switched o’er. They urnae allowed tae watch the news.”

  “Fucking telly! It’s awright fur some, the cunting basturts,” Charlie growled in disgust.

  “Wan ae them is playing a flanker, Shaky. They’ve turned him. The other two don’t know aboot it. We’re no convinced that it’s The Stalker, which leaves The Gruesome Twosome. Whichever wan it is, they’re keeping the basturt up there fur his ain protection and will be plucking him oot ae the joint jist before the trial starts. Any ideas?”

  “Ma money wid be oan Priestly.”

  “Why?”

  “While they’ve aw been getting visits fae their briefs and family, the fuzz ur never away fae the place. They’ve only been up tae question McGovern and The Stalker a few times, bit Priestly his been getting shouted oot at least twice a week, so he his.”

  “By the polis?”

  “Aye. There wis some weird-looking wummin superintendent at wan ae the sessions. That dick ae mine nearly hid a heart attack the first-time Ah clapped eyes oan her. Talk aboot sex oan legs?” Shaky said, rolling his eyes, as the other two laughed. “His that jet-black hair ae hers tied up in a bun. She’s intae her cigars, the slim Panatela wans. Ah blagged her tabs oot ae the ashtray when Ah wis in cleaning the room efter they’d gone. Still hid her dark lipstick prints oan the end ae them. Ah hid a few good bashes that night wae them stuck between ma lips, so Ah hid. Ah could practically taste her.”

  “Aye, well, too much information there, Shaky,” Wan-bob drawled, as the three ae them laughed again.

  “That’s whit the jail dis tae ye when ye’ve been in as long as Ah hiv,” Shaky confessed, miserably. “God, whit Ah widnae dae fur five minutes wae a wummin.”

  “Her name’s Murdina Munro. She’s a chookter bizzy they’ve pulled doon fae the Highlands. A right frigid, cauld bitch, fae whit Ah’ve heard. Everywan in the toon calls her Cleopatra. She’s the wan that’s responsible fur wiping oot the meat trade up in Possil. Thinks she’s fucking Helen Ae Troy, so she dis. Anyway, ye wur saying. Ye think it might be Priestly?”

  “Aye. When the sex oan legs wis up wae an inspector at her back, Ah heard Priestly tell the others that it wis his wee maw that wis up tae see him.”

  “Is there any way you could hiv a wee quiet word in his ear?”

  “No a chance in hell.”

  Silence.

  “Ye’re sure?”

  “Nah. His co-accused or the screws wid hear everything. The only direct contact is when Ah’m haunin o’er their grub at the gate, when they’re aw lined up.”

  “If we wanted tae get a note passed tae McGovern, could that be done?” Charlie wondered.

  “Certainly no at the gate, bit Ah could plant it in his bed when Ah’m in brushing the flair and making up their beds efter Ah change their sheets oan a Friday, so Ah could.”

  “The basturts get their beds made up? Something’s fucking wrang wae the justice system in this country, so it is,” Wan-bob growled in disgust. “Mind and add that tae that pervy doctor’s task list, Charlie.”

  “And the other wan…the wan that done in his bizzy wife?” Charlie asked.

  “Fucking swanning aboot, bragging tae the other three that his brief’s gonnae cop a reduced charge fur him. He reckons he’ll go doon fur three, although his brief seemingly warned him that it could be up tae five oan account that he’s a senior bizzy.”

  “Corrupt prick.”

  “Aye, bit there wis wan other thing, although Ah’m no sure how important it could be. McGovern telt him that he better pray that the letters that his wife passed oan better no surface or he’ll be daeing life alang wae the rest ae them.”

  “Letters? Whit did he mean by that?”

  “Ah’m no sure.”

  “So, whit wis his reaction?”

  “He growled at McGovern tae shut the fuck up and keep his nose oot ae his case.”

  “And that’s it?” Wan-bob asked, thoughtfully, rubbing his chin wae they fingers ae his.

  “Aye. Ah don’t think they get oan too well wae each other. It’s like watching rats squabbling in the bottom ae a barrel through that observation windae, so it is.”

  “Look, Shaky, ye’ve been bang oan, so ye hiv,” Charlie telt him. “Here, we’ve put thegither a wee parcel fur ye. It’s only some tobacco, soap, shampoo and toothpaste. If ye need anything else, you jist remember tae gie us a shout,” Charlie said, bending o’er and pulling the pillowcase full ae goodies oot fae under Wan-bob’s side ae the bed.

  “Ach, ye don’t hiv tae…” Shaky started tae protest.

  “If we decide tae pass a note oan tae that McGovern prick, we’ll gie ye a shout, Shaky,” Wan-bob telt him.

  “Thanks, boys, it’s much appreciated,” Shaky said, staunin up wae his pillowcase swinging at his side.

  “Right, find oot everything ye kin aboot that wife murderer’s case, Charlie,” Wan-bob said tae him, efter Shaky hid disappeared and the cell door hid been slammed shut. “Especially anything tae dae wae letters.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  “Sergeant Raminsky?” Wilma said, oan entering the reading room ae The Cove, Strathclyde Polis’s intelligence section, situated oan the third flair ae the Serious Crime and Intelligence Division doon in Pitt Street in the city centre. “Ye wanted a word, Ah believe?”

  “Er…aye,” Marybell Raminsky replied, sounding nervous.

  “Well?”

  “Er, hing oan a sec.”

  The sergeant reached under the coonter ae the signing oot desk, before walking across tae the frosted glass door and opening it.

  “Tae stoap us fae being disturbed,” she explained, tacking the ‘Meeting In progress’ sign up oan the ootside ae it, before locking the door o’er. “We better grab a seat.”

  Wilma followed the sergeant, looking across at the wire mesh cage that stretched alang the whole length ae the room. Behind the wire, there wis row upon row ae shelves, full ae files. There must’ve been thousands ae files, she guessed. She wisnae sure ae the depth ae the rows in the aisles, as the shelves disappeared intae the darkness beyond.

  “This’ll dae us here,” the nervous sergeant declared, plapping that overly plump arse ae hers doon oan tae a creaking chair, quickly followed by the inspector.

  “So?” Wilma asked, drapping her shoulder bag doon oan tae the flair and unbuttoning her coat, hivving another wee look aboot.

  “Er, Ah wis…er…Ah jist remembered…er, no long efter oor…er, interview, er, the last time.”

  “Ye mean oor interview concerning the murder ae Lesley Bare?” The Inspector reminded her. “The sworn statement ye gied.”

  “Oh, aye, right. Look, hing oan,” The Sergeant said nervously, suddenly jumping up oot ae her chair and briskly manoeuvring hersel between the scattered tables tae the signing oot desk. “Ah furgoat something,” she called back, extracting a thick book fae under the coonter before retracing her steps back wae it clutched in her hauns.

  “So?” The Inspector asked again.

  “Ah, er, Ah’m no sure.”

  “Whit ur ye no sure ae?”

  “Er, you.”

  “Me?”

  “Am Ah right in believing that Teddy Bare his managed tae wangle himsel a reduced charge?”

  “Nothing’s been decided
, as far as Ah know. It’ll be up tae the procurator fiscal’s office. Why?”

  “Oh, right. So, the investigation and the case file his definitely been concluded and haunded o’er then?”

  “Aye, a few weeks ago. It wis an open and shut case…unless any other evidence turns up tae contradict the conclusion we came tae,” The Inspector replied, again looking at the nervous-looking sergeant closely. “Ye widnae hiv anything tae add that ye never telt me the last time we spoke?”

  Silence.

  “Look, Marybell, irrespective ae whit ye might say noo, it’s probably too late. The case his been moved oan and so have Ah,” The Inspector added, changing tack tae try and get the sarge tae relax a wee bit.

  “Aye, Ah heard that ye’d been promoted.”

  “So?”

  Silence.

  “As you know, Lesley hid clearance tae access The Showgirls’ files. And, as ye also know, she came in here oan the…” The Sarge blustered, opening the signing oot book before flicking the pages o’er until she found whit she wis efter. “Thursday the sixteenth ae October.”

  “Aye, Ah remember ye informed me when we interviewed ye.”

  “Because ae her access level, she, Lesley, wis allowed access tae extract information oan cases she wis working oan.”

  “Which she did, oan numerous occasions, if ma memory ae whit ye said is correct.”

  “Aye, it says here she wis jist efter a few dates fur clarification and that she hidnae withdrawn a file,” The Sarge continued, her nervousness suddenly increasing again.

  Silence.

  “Then she wis back again, oan the following Thursday, the twenty-third, this time, withdrawing the file oot here intae the reading room proper.”

  “Aye, Ah remember ye telling me and ma partner that as well,” The inspector said encouragingly, before it suddenly dawned oan her whit The Sarge wis hinting at. “Marybell, ur you telling me that Lesley Bare hid unescorted access tae The Cove itsel…in there?” she asked wae a wave ae her haun towards the wire mesh, her eyebrows shooting skywards.

  “Er, at the time we spoke, ma heid wis a wee bit minced, so it wis.”

  “Look, Marybell, if ye’ve goat something tae add, that ye maybe furgoat the last time we spoke, ye’d be as well tae spit it oot.”