Elvis The Sani Man

by Ian Todd

  “Eh?” she asked, as they turned in tae Castle Street.

  “Car Fifty-Four, Where Ur Ye? The American cop programme?”

  “It wis a comedy,” she replied drily.

  “So?”

  “Ah wis mair in tae Dragnet masel. Much mair realistic, so it wis.”

  Silence.

  “How?” he eventually asked, as they crossed the lights at the junction ae Royston Road.

  “Whit?”

  “Mair realistic?”

  Silence.

  “Right, turn left in here,” he commanded jist past the freight terminal.

  “Whereaboots?” she asked, quickly looking at him, confusion oan that face ae hers.

  “Through they gates,” he replied, pointing.

  “The cemetery?”

  “Aye, oan ye go.”

  “Why?” she asked, driving through, before stoapping.

  “Carry oan, Ah’ll tell ye when tae stoap.”

  Silence.

  “Right up here, oan yer right, then alang tae yer left.”

  Silence.

  “This’ll dae ye here,” he ordered, opening his door and stepping oot.

  “Noo whit?” she asked, looking at him across the roof ae the car.

  “Ah wonder why they came up wae this colour?” he said, slapping the roof ae the car. “Sky blue wae white doors? There must’ve been some logic behind it. Ah mean, why else?”

  “So, why ur we here?” she asked, looking aboot at the deserted graveyard, before following him alang the path.

  “Here we go.”

  “Whit?”

  “That,” he said, pointing tae the big monument covered in bracken and litter.

  “Whit?”

  “It’s ‘The Martyrs’ monument. In 1820 there wis an uprising here in the toon,” he said, pointing away in the distance. “Doon in the Gallowgate, tae be precise. The leaders, aw weavers by trade, managed tae get thousands ae people involved in strikes and street protests.”

  “Ah’m sorry, bit whit his this tae dae wae me, us, the day?” she asked, as Elvis plapped his arse oan the wee grassy slope in front ae the monument.

  “A hunner years efter three ae the leaders, wan ae them being an auld ancestor ae mine called James ‘Perlie’ Wilson, who’s buried oot in Milngavie and his co-accused, Baird and Hardie, who’re buried under where Ah’m noo sitting, thousands ae people came tae pay their respects and tae remember them.

  “Ah still don’t see whi…”

  “Free speech, WPC James. Being able tae express yersel withoot fear ae ridicule or retribution. Tae be accepted fur who ye ur and no how other people may see ye. That’s whit these people wur aboot. That’s whit they died believing.”

  “Aye, Ah kin see how appreciated they wur,” she said dismissively, trying tae read whit wis written oan the big stane plaque underneath the weeds and growth.

  “Ah remember coming up here fur the first time aboot five years ago, when Ah wis dogging day release at college. When Ah arrived, efter walking aw the way up Pinkston Drive fae The Toonheid, Ah wis disappointed when Ah came across this group ae noisy wummin. They wur sitting, strung aboot oan the grass where we ur noo, eating sandwiches and slinging wan-liners at each other. They wur bloody hilarious, so they wur. Ah kin remember wan ae them. She hid real red fiery hair, and wis staunin up and gieing a wee speech tae the others. Ah think it wis the day ae the general election as ye could hear the hailspeakers fae the cars in the distance shouting oot their political parties and candidates’ names. Ah never picked up everything she wis saying, bit fae whit Ah could hear, she knew whit she wis talking aboot. Ah’d heard Perlie Wilson being spoken aboot by ma granny and granda, how he wis buried across in Milngavie, bit hid never really paid much attention tae the actual detail ae why him and a couple ae other people hid been hung. Ah always jist assumed that he must’ve done something really bad if they strung him up. It wis ma auld granny who telt me tae go and visit this monument when she heard Ah wis gonnae be spending a week away fae ma work at wan ae the colleges doon in The Toonheid. She died the same day Ah came up here. Efter the wummin drifted aff up and o’er the hill there, Ah came across and sat where the red-haired wummin hid been staunin gieing her pals the history lesson. Before Ah’d left tae catch the bus in tae the toon, Ah remembered whit ma auld granny telt me aboot The Martyrs Monument.”

  “Ye’ll find oot aboot who yer auld great uncle, Perlie Wilson, wis,” she said, as if he’d jist died the week before.

  “That kind ae history wisnae taught tae us weans at school, so it wisnae. At least, no in any school that Ah wis taught in. The monument itsel didnae really tell me much. It wis the passion in the voice ae the red-haired wummin that fired ma imagination tae know mair. In between learning aboot whit bacteria wid kill ye and whit widnae, Ah went aff and tried tae find oot mair aboot them. There wis nothing in the local libraries. Ah eventually heard mair aboot them fae the granda ae wan ae the other sanitation officers Ah wis working wae at the time. Ah’d asked him if he knew where Ah could find oot mair aboot them. He introduced me tae his granda, who lived across in the Coocaddens. This auld boy knew everything there wis tae know aboot the history ae Glesga and Scotland. He wis a lecturer in tropical diseases at Glesga University. It wis him that filled the gaps left by the red-haired wummin. He said that history wis there fur the living, bit that because history his a habit ae repeating itsel, everything comes roond in circles. Ah never really hid the chance tae ask him tae expand oan that wan as, he too, died no long efter Ah met him. By the looks ae the mess this monument is in, it’s obvious history hisnae came aroond tae repeat itsel yet,” he said, smiling, leaning o’er and picking up an empty faded Players fag packet. “Apart fae us two and that group ae wummin five years ago, we’re probably the only people tae hiv sat here since the 1920s, when they originally erected this memorial.”

  “Ah still don’t see why we’re here?”

  “Ah never did vote in the 1970 election. Politics didnae dae it fur me back then…still disnae, if Ah’m honest,” he admitted. “Bit efter listening tae that red haired lassie speak tae her pals, Ah always regretted no casting ma vote. Ah’ve always wondered whit became ae her. The Tories goat in that year and Ah wis made redundant six months later, so Ah wis. It took me a wee while tae get ma heid roond that. Ah convinced masel that it wis a punishment fae that auld ancestor ae mine, Perlie Wilson, fur no casting ma vote that day. Since then, Ah’ve always tried tae exercise ma freedom tae speak withoot deliberately putting people doon. So, tae cut a long story short, Ah’ve tried tae be nice and friendly tae ye mair than a few times since ye picked me up ootside ma work oan George Street, and each time, ye’ve either been shitty tae me or ignored me. Ah suppose Ah might look or come across as a bit ae a weirdo tae somewan like you, bit believe it or no, Ah’m actually quite a nice person, so Ah am. Noo, if we’re tae work thegither, then Ah think there needs tae be a wee bit ae mutual understaunin and respect fur each other or we’re no gonnae get alang, noo, ur we?”

  Silence.

  “Whitever ye might think or hiv picked up aboot me, we’re tasked tae work thegither, whether we like it or no. Ah realise Ah need you mair than you need me, bit if ye kin bring yersel tae at least try and help me oot fur a day or two, Ah’d be mighty grateful, so Ah wid.”

  “Ach, it’s no you…”

  “Well, if it’s no me, then who is it? Ah’m no used tae being aroond people who walk aboot wae wee black rain clouds following them aboot above their heids.”

  “It’s nothing…”

  “Right, well if it’s nothing, how aboot ye putting nothing back in tae yer purse fur the time being, and Ah’ll tell ye whit Ah’m aboot?”

  “Fire away, Mr Sunshine,” she replied drily, cursing Lesley Bare.

  “Ah, so there is a sense ae humour in there somewhere…that’s a start.”

  “Ah’m listening,” she said in resignation, following him back alang the path tae the squad car.

  Chapter Twenty One

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nbsp; Whit an embarrassment, he muttered tae himsel, lighting up. When Collette James hid stood up and pissed aff oot ae the meeting the day before, he’d thought the flair wis gonnae eat him up. He’d looked aboot at his boys, bit he didnae think they’d made the connection tae him.

  “Dae ye want me tae go and see whit’s bothering her?” Skanky hid volunteered.

  “Naw, leave it. It’s probably her time ae the month,” he’d scowled, tae understanding nods fae aroond the table.

  “If ye think she’s bad, ye should see whit happened across in the Marine the other week there. A bloody wee cheeky-arsed WPC turned roond and slapped Tam Sheridan, the desk sergeant, across the face, because he telt her she looked nice and sexy wan morning. Kin ye bloody believe that?”

  “Imagine if he’d telt her tae go back hame and take a brush tae that hair ae hers?” Shane Priestly hid said, as everywan laughed, except Roy Orbison.

  “So, whit happened tae her?”

  “Suspended fur a week, wae an official warning. Demanded tae speak tae a superintendent, bit wis duly telt tae fuck aff. Kin ye imagine wan ae us hitting wan ae them? Of course, nowan’ll work wae her noo and nae bloody wonder.”

  “Well, she isnae getting sent o’er here, that’s fur sure. Ah’ve enough oan ma plate as it is, so Ah hiv,” he’d retorted, nodding at the empty chair Collette hid jist vacated. “So, sorry aboot that wee interruption by the staff hormones there, Mr Presl…er, Elvis, bit whit kin a wee humble inspector like me dae fur somewan as important as you?”

  “Well, Ah believe that Cooncillor Allan spoke wae ye aboot us working closer thegither,” he’d replied, as nowan spoke.

  “Aye?”

  “So, the cooncillor said that she, er, thought that ye’d come up wae a… a solution, tae, er, demonstrate closer partnership working…that is.”

  “Well, that’s wan way ae putting it,” he’d replied and everywan hid laughed. “Cooncillor Allan wants this so-called Black Pat wan brought doon…as we aw dae. The only problem fur us is resources. Noo, we don’t mind instigating a wee concerted effort every noo and again, particularly if there’s a death or a mass ootbreak ae poisoning, tae let the bad guys know that we’re no aw away oan oor holidays, bit whit she’s efter is a full-scale war ae attrition. That isnae gonnae happen any time soon. Noo, Ah know you think your stuff is mair important, bit these three sergeants sitting here wid beg tae differ, so they wid.”

  “So, er, whit ur ye offering then, er, Inspector?” the cheeky basturt hid asked.

  “Well, efter due consideration and a total rejigging ae aw the shift patterns, ye kin hiv an arresting polis constable.”

  “Ye whit?” Mr Blue Suede Shoes hid yelped, looking as if he wis jist aboot tae shoot that load ae his o’er his well-polished winkle-pickers.

  “That’s right, Mr Presley. Somewan tae dae a sweep ae the area, o’er a longish period, tae lift anywan clocked wae manky hauns at yer leisure, day or night. Of course, the arresting wid need tae take place during the station shift pattern ae the said constable’s allotted hours,” he’d reminded him.

  “Oh, Ah don’t quite know whit tae say.”

  “How aboot thanks fur starters?”

  “Bit, of course, that goes withoot saying. And er, intel? Is that included in the joint support?”

  Silence.

  How he hidnae jumped up and shouted at Skanky tae haud that bloody office door open, he’d never know. Professionalism, that’s whit it hid been. The sergeants, oan the other haun, hidnae been able tae hide their alarm. They hid nothing tae worry aboot oan that score, bit it jist went tae show how fly that wee winkle-toed basturt wis if he wis allowed mair than an inch.

  “Ye’ll understand that there’s some decisions, way above ma pay grade, that first requires clearance fae Central, Mr Presley, and this wid certainly be wan ae them. Ye’re mair than welcome tae go doon that route, bit Ah’d jist like tae warn ye, that Ah’m daeing this as a wee favour tae Cooncillor Allan, seeing as we’re aboot tae become relatives, and that Central hivnae been involved in oor wee partnership agreement…Ah mean aboot me seconding, Ah think that’s the word, an experienced crime officer tae work alongside ae ye, tae gie ye advice and back-up in the arresting arena.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrang, Inspector Dougan. Ah wis jist attempting tae clarify the boundaries ae the support, so Ah wis,” Gene Vincent hid stammered, backing aff, as he should, the cheeky basturt.

  “Is there anything else then?” he’d asked him.

  “Er, when kin the investigating officer start?”

  “Ye mean, the WPC? Oh, she kin start first thing the morra morning…if that’s okay wae you?”

  “Oh, er, aye, that wid be perfect. The way ye spoke, Ah, er assumed that ye wur talking aboot a polisman?”

  “Whit? Ye don’t hiv a problem wae working wae WPC James, a female, dae ye, Mr Orbison?” he’d hit him wae. “She’s goat o’er three years experience ae working in the toughest parts ae the city.”

  “No, no, that sounds excellent. Can Ah ask how Constable James feels aboot the move?”

  “Temporary move…a few days…a week at maist before we review it. And in answer tae yer question? Ah spoke tae her only last night and she sounded delighted, so she did. She informed me that she cannae wait. She says she’ll meet ye at the side entrance tae yer work oan George Street the morra morning, so she will.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “So, whit happened tae the auld yin then?” Collette asked.

  “Whit auld yin?”

  “The weaver, historian, whitever he wis?”

  “He died ae food poisoning. Aw that knowledge, jist flushed doon the Swanee, so it wis. And fur whit? Because some selfish basturt couldnae be arsed washing his hauns efter gaun tae the toilet?”

  “Is that whit happened?”

  “Naw. Ah managed tae get a haud ae his death certificate. He’d eaten contaminated food, served up in a posh restaurant, renowned fur its good food, across in the West End.”

  “So, this is whit aw this is aboot? Ye’re oan some sort ae revenge mission fur some auld bloke that telt ye a story. Is that it?’ she asked, turning left oan tae Keppochhill Road.

  “Turn right here,” he instructed, as she took a quick right in tae Millarbank Street.

  “Heid straight across Gourlay Street and doon oan tae Cowlairs Road. At the bottom, turn right and park up near the junction at the cross,” he said, as a noisy bunch ae wummin exited the wee hall beside The Springburn Halls, carrying trays ae sandwiches and cakes.

  “Where ur we gaun?” she shouted, as he goat oot ae the car, and walked up tae the corner.

  “It’s a pity ye’re in uniform,” he tutted. “Right, whit dae ye see?”

  “People, traffic, shoaps and the train station further up the road.”

  “Whit kind ae shoaps?”

  “The Co-op, pubs, newsagents, cafes, whitever.”

  “Right, follow me,” he commanded, crossing the road and entering the chip shoap. “Hellorerr sir, Sanitation Inspection,” he announced tae the surprised chippy behind the coonter, flashing his ID at him.

  “Whit kin Ah dae ye fur?”

  “Ur you complying wae Health and Safety Regulations?”

  “Of course.”

  “So, where ur they then?”

  “Eh?”

  “Excuse me, sir,” The Sani Man said, brushing past the guy. “Whit time dae ye open fur business then?”

  “Eleven o’clock, jist in time tae get ready fur the school kids who fancy something better than the shite they get at school. Ah wis never intae school dinners when Ah wis at school, so Ah wisnae…aw they vegetables and aw that.”

  “So, WPC James, whit dae ye think then? See anything amiss that wid gie ye concerns aboot eating anything oot ae here?” he asked her, looking aboot.

  “Hmm, apart fae no seeing the Health & Safety regulations up oan the wall, it looks awright tae me,” she replied, smiling, following him through tae the back kitchen area, snooping as she went, lift
ing up wee storage tins and looking behind them, as Mr Chippy smiled confidently.

  “So, that’ll be a pass then?” he asked her.

  “Looks awright tae me,” she replied, as Mr Chippy’s grin goat wider.

  “So, this disnae concern ye then?” he asked her, as she jumped back, letting oot a yelp, as he slid the cambered lid up fae wan ae the friars oan the serving side ae the coonter.

  “Oh, Ah think Ah’m gonnae throw up,” she said, covering her mooth wae her haun, as she watched his erm twisting and turning, before plucking and lifting the stiff, deid moose up by the tail, wae a slow slurping noise echoeing fae the fryer.

  “It must’ve slipped aff ae the pipe running alang the middle ae the ceiling,” he said, gripping the stiff wee thing by the tail, while writing oan the form that wis attached tae his clipboard, as baith The WPC and Mr Chippy looked up at the pipe.

  “Bit, how did ye know?” she gasped, impressed wae him fur the first time since she’d picked him up..

  “Intuition, WPC James. Look, it obviously embedded itsel, nose first, in tae the hardened dripping, suffocating itsel,” he replied, haudin up the wee stiff rodent.

  “Ah wid’ve definitely checked before turning oan the fryers,” Mr Chippy claimed, as The Sani Man continued oan his travels.

  “Whit ur these?” he asked.

  “Jist left o’er haddock fae last night. They’ll be okay tae use this lunchtime, so they will.”

  “Naw they won’t. The temperature in here is way too high. It’s the middle ae summer. That fish should’ve been stored in the fridge.”

  “They wid’ve been, bit Ah’ve jist hid a delivery and ma fridge is full.”

  “That open windae is bringing in flies…bluebottles, look. Why hiv ye no goat any fly killers? There’s plenty oan the market these days. Look Mr…”

  “Thompson.”

  “Mr Thompson, Ah’m no happy. Ah’m prepared tae work wae ye, bit this is unacceptable. Ah’m shutting ye doon, as in right noo. That means ye cannae trade or sell any food….”

  “Bit…”

  “And Ah mean right noo, as in, right this minute. Ah want tae see yer front windae clouded o’er wae whitewash wae a notice telling everywan that ye’re shut until further notice.”