Elvis The Sani Man

by Ian Todd

  “No hivving a bad word tae say aboot the men? Christ, nae wonder the poor soul wis confused. Imagine no being able tae slag aff they lazy, good-fur-nothing basturts that we hiv tae put up wae oan a daily basis, eh?” Issie growled indignantly. “Ah mean, whit kind ae world is that, eh? That’s whit Ah’d want tae know.”

  “Aye, well, it gets worse, so it dis. If youse think fag rationing is death by torture, wait till ye hear this next bit. Oan ye go yersel, Sharon, hen,” Soiled Sally harrumphed eagerly, warning the others that if they thought that wis bad, then there wis worse tae come, as she unwrapped a two-pound lump ae Red Leicester and aw eyes turned back tae Sharon.

  “Anyway, whit aw the local wummin jist seemed tae talk aboot, fae morning tae night, wis their men hivving this and their weans hivving that, who by the sounds ae things, didnae hiv a snottery sleeve between them, kin ye believe? Think ae white painted, fenced-aff gardens, wae the latest cars in the driveway and no a sheriff officer within a ten miles radius, and ye’ll hiv goat it,” Sharon breathed, rolling oot her dough oan the flour-dusted table top wae a green-labelled empty McEwan’s Pale Ale screw-tap bottle.

  “Sounds like the Garden ae Eden tae me, so it dis,” Ann sighed, sawing through a big pile ae tongue sandwiches before swivelling them roond and quartering them, as the rest ae the lassies nodded in agreement.

  “Aye, well, that’s whit Ah thought, until the photographer lassie discovered that aw the basturts they wur married tae hid murdered their wives and replaced them wae identical looking bloody effing robots!”

  “Whit?”

  “Eh?”

  “Aye, she soon changed her tune aboot that man ae hers efter that, so she did,” Sharon said drily, as everywan erupted.

  “Dirty scheming basturts!”

  “There’s a bloody surprise, eh?”

  “Ah knew ye wur gonnae hit us wae something like that, so Ah did!”

  “Aye, it wis some bloody book, Ah kin tell youse,” Sharon agreed, laughing, shaking her heid in wonder.

  “So, whit happened tae the wummin…the photographer lassie, Ah mean?” Issie and Betty baith sang at wance, as everywan held their breath.

  “The same as whit’s gonnae happen tae aw youse if we don’t get these sandwiches and tarts finished in the next fifteen minutes. The lead car will be arriving back fae the cemetery wae the family and mourners at two o’clock sharp,” Sharon reminded them, as they aw turned and looked up at the clock above the door ae the kitchen in the Springburn Public Halls oan Millarbank Street.

  Chapter Three

  “At first ye think it’s jist a wee upset tummy and that ye should’ve went tae the lavvy before ye left the hoose,” he said, lowering his voice, leaning forward in his chair, while quickly glancing aboot the kitchen. “Of course, ye try tae ignore it…everywan dis, despite the cramps starting tae get worse…and worse…and, well, ye get ma drift? It’s at this stage ae the game that ye’re beginning tae wonder if that nauseous feeling ye’ve hid aw morning is connected. Suddenly ye feel warm, and then hot and before ye know it, the sweat is starting tae drip aff ae the end ae they pretty wee noses ae yers. Ye want tae go and get yersel a wee cool drink ae water tae quench yer thirst, bit ye decide no tae…jist in case, like.”

  “In case…er, in case ae whit?” Lucy asked in a wee quaking, hushed voice.

  “Dae Ah really hiv tae spell it oot?” he asked, really husky this time, again, swiftly looking across tae the open door, while at the same time, raising wan ae they frowning, black, dyed, bushy eyebrows ae his tae the heavens, as the two transfixed faces across the table fae him took oan a look ae sheer horror. “Bit of course,” he reminded them, mair gently this time, again quickly glancing across tae the open door, pleased that the two faces opposite him followed his example this time, before quickly returning tae hear whit that hypnotic voice wis aboot tae declare next. “Of course, it really is aw academic by this stage, so it is. Yer energy his awready been sapped and yer muscles ur aching like a deputy heid teacher’s bicep efter thrashing the fingers aff ae aw they wee tickets who think they’re something. The thought ae eating they good Shippam’s fish paste sandwiches, fur the second day in a row, that yer wee maw made up fur yer scran at play-time, efter they’ve being left, sitting oan that windae ledge, under that belting sun in the classroom aw morning, well…it jist disnae feel as appealing as it did when she asked ye whit ye wanted oan yer play-piece at eight o’clock yesterday morning, Ah suppose. Of course, by this stage ae the game, ye’re far too late, even though ye’ve finally twigged that there’s definitely something amiss…whit wae the combination ae cramps, chills, shivers and aw they aches and pains gaun fur ye big style noo. Ye’re noo cursing yersel that ye didnae get the driver tae drap ye aff ae the bus at the corner when ye hid the chance. That’s when ye kid yersel oan that ye kin maybe still make it, if ye hurry, and no focus too much oan whit yer body’s screaming oot at ye. Ye could be bending o’er tae gather up that big heavy school bag, taking that first leap doon oan tae the second tap step ae the double-decker bus, suddenly realising ye’ve goat another twelve steps before ye reach the bottom deck, and then…bam!” he yelled, slamming the palm ae his right haun doon oan tae the Formica-topped kitchen table, as the two uniform clad school lassies yelped in fright.

  “Aw, Ma-ah!” twelve-year-auld Lisa-Marie Presley howled fae the kitchen door, as her da beamed proudly at her.

  “Ach, Ah wis only kidding, so Ah wis,” he hooted in laughter, as the three school uniformed lassies hot-tailed it alang the lobby towards the ootside landing door.

  “Fur goodness sake, Elvis, whit hiv Ah telt ye? This is the first time in o’er a month that any ae her pals hiv darkened the door since the last time ye scared them witless wae that story aboot the maggots. She won’t furgive ye if that happens again,” Pricilla warned him.

  “Ach, ye’re jist as bad as her, so ye ur. The lassies know fine well Ah’m only hivving them oan, so they dae,” he replied, staunin up, as Pricilla came o’er tae him.

  “Right, hiv ye goat everything noo?” she asked, straightening his bootlace tie underneath his silver skull and crossbone clip before staunin back, looking him up and doon.

  “Aye, Ma,” he replied, smiling.

  “Ah’m really proud ae ye, Elvis. Who wid’ve thought, eh? That wee ugly rock ’n’ roller ae a man ae mine, getting his ain patch in the toon.”

  “It’s mair than a patch, Pricilla,” he reminded her. “It’s wan ae the biggest spreads in the city, so it is.”

  “Ach, ye know whit Ah mean.”

  “It contains o’er a hunner thousand souls requiring protection day and night in exotic sounding places like Bishopbriggs, Burmulloch, Balornock, Auchinairn, Colston, Milton, Springburn, Possilpark, High Possil and Lambhill, fae aw they wee underground black meat merchant dens in between. Christ, hardly a patch…mair like a bloody continent.”

  “Aye, they’ll be calling ye Julius before ye know it,” she retorted drily, a wee twinkle in her eye as the real Elvis, singing ‘Don’t Be Cruel’, wafted oot ae the radio.

  “Julius?” he asked, lifting his Johnny Cash black, silk, tapered jaicket fae the back ae the kitchen chair, gieing her a wee peck oan the cheek as he swished the palm ae that right haun ae his in the wake ae his comb in his left wan, alang the side ae his gleaming, slicked-back bop oan the way past her.

  “As in Cesar’s Palace,” she replied tae his back proudly, as he glided alang the lobby towards the ootside-landing door.

  “Remember and phone me if ma letter arrives,” he shouted, jist before she heard the letterbox oan the ootside ae the door clatter, as he pulled the landing door shut behind himsel.

  Chapter Four

  Inspector Duggie Dougan lay back in his seat wae his eyes clamped shut, the fingers ae his left haun clenching and unclenching, as he fought tae keep his breathing steady through they freshly clipped nostrils ae his.

  “Ouch,” he winced, feeling the clammy sweat break oot oan that foreheid ae his.

  �
��Sorry, sir,” the sniffling wee blonde WPC murmured apologetically, looking up fae where she wis kneeling oan bended knees in front ae him, oan his side ae the desk, as she slackened aff the crepe bandage that she wis wrapping roond his knuckles.

  “Ah think ye should go and get it X-rayed, so ye should.”

  “Nah, there’s nae point. Ah’ve jist staved it. And anyway, they’ll jist gie me the same as whit you’re putting oan it,” he grumbled, as his office door suddenly opened.

  “Oops, shit, er, sorry, Inspector,” Skanky Smith, the station’s desk sergeant yelped, quickly disappearing, pulling the door shut behind him.

  “Well, if ye need anything else, jist gie me a shout,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes filling wae tears again, as she used baith his knees tae help hersel up, before he coughed and drapped his gaze. “Yoker…bit why, Duggie? Whit hiv Ah done wrang? Tell me and Ah’ll change,” she pleaded, looking doon at him.

  “Ah’m sorry, Collette, bit Ah’ve made up ma mind, hen. It’s fur the best. Ye’ll thank me in the long run, so ye will. Skanky! Get yer arse in here,” The Inspector shouted, the door suddenly opening as the WPC turned and brushed past the sergeant. “Whit hiv Ah bloody well telt ye aboot knocking before entering?”

  “Aye, er, sorry, sir,” The Sarge mumbled, face still flushed, slightly embarrassed.

  “So?”

  “Oh, right, er, Ah’m a wee bit worried aboot that Four Fingers Ralston wan, sir.”

  “Whit aboot him?”

  “Er, his breathing’s starting tae sound like a rattle, so it is.”

  “A rattle?”

  “Er, aye…a wean’s rattle.”

  “Hiv ye put him in the recovery position?”

  “Recovery position? Er, Ah jist left him where he landed, efter ye decked him.”

  “In whit position?”

  “Flat oan his back.”

  “Well, there ye go then. Go back and turn the basturt o’er oan tae his stomach wae wan ae his knees bent up tae his chest and the side ae that heid ae his resting oan his erm.”

  “Ye don’t think he needs an ambulance then?”

  “Look, ye’re getting oan ma tits noo,” The Inspector growled, the throbbing in his right haun beating away like an iron lung shifting up a gear.

  “Oh, right. Well, Ah’ll jist go and see whit’s happening. If there’s any change, Ah’ll come back and gie ye a wee shout, sir. Thank ye, sir,” The Sarge said, practically bowing, as he shuffled backwards oot the door intae the busy corridor.

  “Aye, you jist dae that,” The Inspector grumbled, wincing again, looking doon at his bandaged haun.

  He wondered if she’d deliberately put the crepe bandage oan too tight? Nah. Surely no. Mind you, ye couldnae tell whit wis gaun oan in the heid ae some ae these young lassies nooadays. The fact that they wur allowed oot oan tae the streets in uniform at night jist summed up everything that wis wrang wae the force. He’d been speaking tae Bobby Mack fae the murder squad the day before. Bobby hid telt him that they’d been trying tae put two female sergeants intae the two murder teams in the city fur ages noo, bit he’d been resisting it.

  “Ah’m telling ye, Duggie. They’ll be walking aboot as inspectors some day. You mark ma words.”

  “So, why don’t ye get yersel in there first and choose who you want.”

  “Bit Ah don’t want wan.”

  “Listen tae me, because Ah’m no gonnae repeat masel. Why don’t ye get Teddy Bare tae gie ye somewan like Sally Burke? That way, ye’ll get wan ae oor ain insteid ae some wee powder puff who hisnae a clue and disnae know her place?”

  “Aw right. Aye, Ah see where ye’re coming fae noo, so Ah dae.”

  Bobby tended tae be a bit ae a drama queen when he wis gied the flair, bit he hid a point. The Inspector hid noticed the numbers creeping up o’er the past few years. The fact that they’d even sent a few up tae a shithole like Possil, withoot taking in tae consideration whit they could and wid be faced wae oan a daily basis, wis testimony tae that. Of course, it hid its good points, if like him, ye wur born wae the gift ae the gab and happened tae posses a wee silver strip ae braid across the peak ae yer chequered cap. Aw this wummin’s lib wis tae blame. It should’ve been nipped in the bud right fae the start. Teddy Bare said they wur causing aw sorts ae grief doon in Pitt Street, demanding the same wages as the guys.

  “When wis the last time ye clocked a WPC getting tore right in tae a fight wae some wee Ned wielding a machete, eh? And who’ll get the blame if they end up getting stabbed…or worse?” Teddy hid bleated the last time the subject hid raised its ugly face in the social club up in Bishopbriggs.

  He looked aboot the office. His life hid been falling aboot his ears fur a wee while noo and fae where he wis sitting, nursing that sore haun ae his, he didnae seem tae be making much progress tae take back control. If it wisnae wan thing, it wis another. Maybe he wis becoming too comfortable wae the passing ae time. Maybe he’d been living aff the fat ae the land fur far too long, taking they beady eyes ae his aff the baw? He knew things hid tae change. Christ, is that no whit he’d been daeing fur the past month tae six weeks? Aye, bit there needed tae be mair. The time hid come fur him tae get shot ae the distractions, the unimportant wee nigglers that put thegither, aw added up tae something substantial. He’d been gieing it a good bit ae thought the past few days. Life wis a pain in the arse, bit everywan wid survive and move oan. It wisnae as if it wis the end ae the world, he telt himsel fur the umpteenth time since starting his shift earlier. So, first things first. Collette James. She wis a nice wee thing, maybe a bit too eager tae please alang wae being totally useless as an investigative bizzy, of course. How the hell she’d managed tae wangle her way through the interview and selection process, hid been a total mystery tae him. That Teddy Bare wis well-known fur taking a fancy tae the wee blonde wans. That young, tarty wife ae his, who works in Serious Crime and Intelligence…whit wis her name noo? Lesley, aye, Lesley. Brassy blonde thing wae big tits. He could well understaun why an ugly basturt like Teddy Bare widnae hiv stood a chance wae somewan like her sitting across fae him efter completing her training, he telt himsel, allowing a wee smile tae crack open that face ae his. That’s when the trouble started though. Ye needed tae stay disciplined. Take yer helping, bit don’t hiv them getting too close, before moving them oan, letting them become somewan else’s problem. He shook his heid. He’d warned Central aboot sending WPCs up tae Possil, bit the basturts widnae listen.

  “They’re good fur dealing wae the wummin,” he’d been telt. “Especially the nutters demonstrating doon at the closemooths during a warrant sale. And anyway, we need tae get her oot ae the road as soon as. Daddy’s instructed me tae inform you, that you’re the chosen wan.”

  “Whit dae ye mean, as soon as?” he remembered stupidly asking.

  “Bobby Mack’s wife turned up at Central this morning, demanding tae know why Bob Mackerel, Chief Superintendent, responsible fur the city’s two murder teams, wis allowing a wee trollop ae a WPC tae wreck the marriage ae his long standing, loyal Chief Inspector,” Teddy hid replied. “Daddy and Sally Burke ur meeting wae her jist noo, as we speak.

  It hid been the mention ae Sally Burke that hid persuaded him no tae resist too hard. Her WPCs wur always top notch honeys, so they wur. They hid tae be, tae attract the attentions ae aw the well-heeled, moneyed ‘Johns’ doon in Blythswood Square. He’d been surprised that the emotional side ae things hid raised its ugly heid so soon though. It hid only been three months since her arrival. Why the hell could wummin no jist be happy wae a good auld pumping insteid ae muddying the water wae aw that emotional man-grief? Even though he couldnae remember the last time he’d shed a tear, he could be as emotional as the next guy, even if he didnae broadcast it fae the roof ae the station, bit there wis a time and a place, surely? Bringing aw that emotional stuff intae the work place wis jist bang oot ae order, so it wis. Christ, he wis scared tae mention the word self-discipline in the ranks nooadays, in case nowan knew whit the fuck he wis oan
aboot. He blamed aw they university types that they’d been bringing in. Widnae know a dark street if they goat dumped in wan, wae their wrists tied behind their backs wearing a hood, the basturts. Bit he wis digressing. He allowed his mind tae drift back tae the situation in haun. There wis jist too much gaun oan in his life tae allow mair distractions tae invade it, especially ae the emotional kind. Given his mounting responsibilities, he hid tae act. It wis her ain bloody fault. He’d made his position crystal clear tae her, right fae the very start. He winced in pain, as he picked up the receiver wae his good haun and jammed it between his chin and collarbone before dialling the number.

  “Jings? Aye, it’s Duggie here. Possil? Ach, ye know whit like, it’s still staunin…barely,” he replied, chortling. “Look, Ah need ye tae dae me a wee favour. Ah need tae get shot ae wan ae ma WPCs. Naw, naw, she’s fine. She’s wan ae Sally Burke’s street tartlets. Kin be a bit too clingy and emotional at times, bit she goes like the clappers, so she dis. Naw, Ah wish Ah could, bit Ah’ve goat a lot oan ma plate jist noo. Aye, ye’ll like her. Ah thought Ah’d gie ye first shout before anywan else gets in there. Okay, if ye put in a request tae Teddy Bare doon in personnel later oan this morning saying ye’re in dire need ae a WPC, Ah’ll phone him and let him know Ah need a replacement and that ye’re keen oan the wan Ah’m getting shot ae. Aye, Ah’m telling ye, Jings, ye’ll like her. She’s a wee cracker, so she is…and discreet as well. How’s Marjory anyhow? Aw, that’s great, so it is. Aye, gie her ma regards. Right, Ah hiv tae shoot the craw. Remember, ye owe me wan,” he reminded him, drapping the receiver back in the cradle.