by Ian Todd
“Noo, Douglas, while we’re okay fur ye tae take care ae the engagement arrangements, masel and Calypso insist that we take care ae the wedding. That’s including the entertainment,” Mrs Purple informed him again, a slight slur in that voice ae hers, jist aboot spilling her Blue Nun doon the front ae her purple ootfit.
“Ach, well, we’ll see whit happens nearer the time, Barbara,” he’d replied, as Calypso and that steel band ae his started daeing whit the compere hid jist called a ‘medley’ ae Bay City Rollers numbers, before aw the grub wis wolfed doon.
“Naw, naw, Douglas, you and Marge hiv been splendid, so youse hiv…it’s jist a pity we’re hivving this discussion under these circumstances, so it is,” she’d said.
“Circumstances? Whit circumstances?”
“That poor wee innocent ae mine.”
“Ah’m sorry?”
“Supervision, Douglas. Ah don’t want tae rustle any feathers here, bit let’s be honest, whit the hell wur you and Marge daeing tae allow this tae happen…and you a polisman as well?”
“Aye, well, it takes two tae tango, Barbara,” he’d hit her wae pleasantly, feeling a strong urge tae strangle the stupid cow while her man wis up there prancing aboot like a bloody monkey.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that poor Marge ae mine his been no well and poor Celia his been run ragged trying tae look efter her. She’s hardly hid time tae think this past while, putting in aw that care.”
“Aye?”
“Aye, so she wis obviously vulnerable at the time, which obviously led tae this happening,” he replied, wae a sweep ae his erm at the hunner and twenty hungry locusts clearing up the food being dished oot tae them by the tray load, fae the Springburn wummin that Paddy McPhee hid managed tae get fur him.
Thank Christ he’d supplied the pies, he reminded himsel, as another tray ae pounds, shilling and pence whizzed past his nose, in the ootstretched erms ae two ae the catering wummin, who each started fae opposite ends ae the tables.
“Ah’ve asked Marge tae set aside a wee plate ae grub fur Calypso, so Ah hiv,” he reminded her, taking a bite oot ae his mince pie, haudin his chin o’er the tea plate tae catch the hot dripping fat fae it.
“Aye, Duggie, dear, Ah’m no a great fan ae potted haugh, so Ah’m no, bit Ah’m still partial tae a wee mince pie every noo and again” she’d replied pleasantly, chomping intae hers, taking the lead fae him by haudin her tea plate up under her chin as well, in advance ae the dribbling fat gushing oot ae it.
Chapter Forty One
Elvis felt a lot better wance he’d filled his mug and plapped that arse ae his doon firmly oan tae the chair. Lisa Marie hid asked him earlier how come his bop wis leaning aff tae the left insteid ae sticking straight oot in front ae that foreheid ae his. He wisnae too sure if people hid actually heard whit hid happened tae him, or if they wur jist reacting efter being confronted by the two black eyes, wae wan turning yellow, oot oan public display as they entered The Tear Drap Cafe. At first, he tried no tae look fur people’s initial reaction, bit he couldnae help himsel, particularly seeing as maist people’s facial expressions cracked and appeared sympathetic. Miss Robertson, the front-ae-hoose complaints wummin, fae the desk oot in reception, always a wee sensitive soul at the best ae times, couldnae contain her emotions. She’d jist stoapped in her tracks, baith her hauns shooting up tae suffocate the silent scream that hid been aboot tae be ejected fae the back ae that gullet ae hers. By the time he’d weighed up the pros and cons as tae whether he should inform her that he wis actually awright, despite his injuries, she’d scurried past him wae her heid doon, oan route tae the bubbling, hissing water geezer across in the corner. He prayed that he widnae be putting people aff ae their well-earned twenty-minute misery break, oan account ae the big scab held thegither by black encrusted stitches in the thicket at the front ae that napper ae his. Of course, given where he wis sitting, it wis hard tae tell whit the trigger wis fur somewan being emotionally upset doon there in the gunnels ae the building. Only the previous week, wan ae the lassies fae the housing complaints section, Contrary Mary, hid jumped up at the lunch break, punching the air wae her fist, a la Che Guevara style, taking everywan by surprise.
“So long, suckers!” she’d screamed, laughing hysterically at aw the upturned, shocked and surprised coupons gawping across at her, before she made a bid fur freedom through the door and intae the corridor, leaving everywan sitting there visibly perplexed that perhaps somewan else, insteid ae them, hid obviously found a solution tae their predicament, at long last.
Jealousy wis a terrible thing, he remembered telling himsel, as everywan, except himsel, nosedived in tae their teacups and Red Leicester pieces, in search ae the lost solution. Elvis couldnae speak fur everywan else in the café aboot who knew whit and when, seeing as nowan spoke tae each other while they wur ensconced in their ain thoughts, quietly sipping their Brooke-Bond, bit the very next day, he’d picked up oan the grapevine that Contrary Mary, who’d been a patron ae the café fur a lot longer than him, hid stomped upstairs and barged her way in tae her boss’s office and resigned there and then, oan the spot, withoot so much as an explanation tae that dumbfounded manager ae hers, Gwenda Horizon. The effects oan The Miseries doon in The Tear Drap Café, hid initially been electric…well, hid caused an explosion ae contorted, mystified, puzzled expressions, that hid lasted the whole ae the efternoon tea break session, before things hid gone back tae whit he supposed could be described as normal.
“Why the hell hid none ae us thought ae daeing that oorsels, eh?” Spasmodic Jeffreys, so-called because she wore the biggest stiletto heels in the world, which made her walk like a drunken seagull, hid cried oot pitifully, the morning efter the departure.
Oan reflection, there hid definitely been signs ae whit wis aboot tae happen. Normally, Mary wid’ve jist sat, staring in tae space, avoiding eye contact wae anywan, except fur Mrs Mop, who’d started at The Corporation oan the same day as her, eighteen years earlier. This time though, she’d sat, staring intae her cup, bit no drinking fae it. Efter managing tae extract some looks ae consternation at her cup contemplation, fae a few ae the surrounding miseries, Contrary Mary hid suddenly stood up and let rip wae that hysterical voice and a steely, determined, manic look spread across that coupon ae hers, before marching aff tae resign that very day withoot working any notice. Of course, it hid aw been academic by then. The sparks ae the revolution hid died oan its feet before it hid even goat started. The majority ae The Miseries hid obviously worked oot fur themsels that although Contrary Mary might’ve found a solution tae her situation, the wans left behind still hid a wee while tae go themsels. When, efter three days, Contrary Mary sheepishly returned tae The Tear Drap, her boss hivving agreed tae take her back, wae a wee word ae warning that she expected an increase in her work output, as well as a drap in her wages, she’d appeared relieved tae find that her rickety auld chair wis still sitting vacant. Elvis thought he detected a smugness oan some ae the faces who hidnae been convinced wae the performance ae poor Contrary Mary in the first place. He looked doon in tae his mug. The teabag hid sunk tae the bottom ae it. He tried gently swirling the contents, careful no tae let any ae it spill oan tae the Formica in the hope that it wid resurrect itsel, bit it wisnae gaun anywhere. He wondered if his sunken teabag mirrored his situation in his pursuit ae Black Pat. Where wis the anticipated progress? Hid he no went oot there and rattled the basturts? The only problem that he could see wis that they wurnae taking him seriously. The mair he thought aboot it, the mair he realised that he only hid the word ae a wee fly WPC, who’d assured him that the black butchers ae Possil wur definitely aware that he wis oan their trail. He wished he hidnae confessed tae her that he’d always wanted tae be a polisman.
“You? A bizzy?” she’d scoffed, up in the stairheid lavvy.
“Aye, me,” he’d retorted, indignantly.
“Ye’re no tall enough, so ye’re no,” she’d come back wae.
“Aye, Ah know.”
; She seemed so sure ae hersel, despite the fact that she still hid a few days ae her suspension left. How could she be so sure?
“Ah’m telling ye, Elvis. Take ma word fur it. They know exactly whit’s gaun oan efter oor wee escapade up in Possil a few nights ago, so they dae. Why dae ye think Ah’m suspended?”
“Aye, bit whit aboot The Barracks?”
“That’s different. We don’t want them tae know aboot that wan. That’s aw part ae oor intelligence gathering, so it is. That’s where the detective legwork comes in.”
He still wisnae convinced. She widnae gie him a straight answer when he’d challenged her oan how long that wis gonnae take.
“Why, ur ye gaun somewhere like?”
“Me? Naw. Why?”
“So, whit’s yer hurry then? It’ll take as long as it takes,” she’d replied, shrugging they shoulders ae hers.
He’d been dying tae tell her aboot Cooncillor Allan, hinging aboot in the shadows, waiting fur her weekly update fae him oan progression. Progression? Whit progression wid that be, he asked himsel? He’d awready slung her a deafy and a body-swerve efter she’d goat a wee note sent doon tae him, informing him that she wanted a wee word. Visions ae spending the rest ae his career, alangside that boss ae his oot in the Gulag ae Nitshill, following in his footsteps didnae seem too appetising fae where he wis sitting. He wondered if WPC Shiny Buttons wis a plant, put there tae undermine him, slow him doon, keep him aff the scent. And whit wis the score between her and The Inspector, Duggie Dougan? Surely that couldnae be right? As well as being a psychopathic violent basturt, he wis a bloody auld man compared tae her. He’d need tae watch oot and keep his ain council. When he’d telt her aboot his upcoming gig doon at Betty’s Bar oan The Broomielaw, she’d casually drapped in that she wis pals ae that Lesley wan, Teddy Bare’s wife. Christ, he hid tae stoap trusting people. There wur a lot ae sharks oot there. That team ae his wur asking questions aboot whit he wis up tae. The note fae Mrs Purple hid caused a fair wee bit ae consternation in the ranks, so it hid. They’d started looking at him as if he wis condemned awready. He looked at his watch. Collette wis coming tae pick him up in five minutes. She claimed that she hid an unimpeachable witness who could spread light oan whit wis happening up in Possil. Wis it a trap, he wondered, the wet teabag landing oan his nose fae the side ae the upturned mug, as he finished aff the dregs in the bottom ae it. There wis only wan way tae find oot, he telt himsel, as he stood up and heided across tae the sink, avoiding the sympathetic, furtive looks fae his fellow shipmates.
Chapter Forty Two
Elvis nodded at the broon-coated turnkey at the far end ae the cellblock corridor, sitting oan that arse ae his, oan sentry duty and chomping in tae a mince pie that looked tae be droont in thick dollops ae broon HP sauce. A few weeks earlier, when he’d been across at The Marine polis station, interviewing Mockit Michael, a black meat dealer fae Partick, who’d been suspected ae poisoning a funeral crowd ae a victim who’d died ae food poisoning hersel, he’d wondered whit the hell turnkeys in the polis stations across the city did wae their time when they wurnae locking and unlocking badly bashed, ancient cellblock doors. He ducked his heid instinctively as he entered the dark and dank interview room in Springburn Polis Station. That surely must’ve been a design fault oan the architect’s part, he reckoned, shivering, trying, bit failing tae block oot recurring images ae foreheids thudding aff the lintel above the door, efter being slung heid first towards the interview room, leaving the red brackish splotches fae cracked skulls in their wake. He could taste the vinegar fae the broon sauce catch the back ae his throat as he lay the pile ae broon files doon oan tap ae the worn table and took aff his jaicket. He felt the depression ae the place close in oan him before he’d even managed tae pull oot the chair fae the rickety, scratched table. He’d jist been aboot tae make a swift exit fae The Corporation earlier, when he’d been summoned back up tae his office. It wis an emergency that couldnae wait, according tae that lanky, sometime clerical ae his, Mags Hamilton, when she could be tracked doon. Mags hid soon caught up wae him wae they giant strides ae hers, jist as he’d been aboot tae escape through the side door intae George Street tae go and meet up wae some black meat informer up in Cadder. He’d spotted Collette James illegally parked up oan yellow lines, staunin, her wee arse leaning back against an auld rusty Cortina, looking oot fur the toon centre parking wardens…the same wardens that hid embarrassed the city fathers by gieing the Queen’s car a parking ticket ootside the main entrance tae The Corporation, as it sat waiting fur Her Majesty tae finish her lobster and cream ae tomato and tarragon soup, the year before. In The Corporation’s ‘Right Dirty Basturts’ sweepstake league, the city centre wardens wur up there wae the best ae them. By the time he’d goat back tae his office, his boss hid hung up efter getting fed up waiting. When Elvis hid finally managed tae track him doon across the city, six calls later, the news hidnae been good. There hid been a mass poisoning the night before up in Auchinairn Community Hall at some engagement party. Thirty-wan victims hid, so far, turned up in dribs and drabs, tae Stobhill General Hospital, wae varying degrees ae food poisoning. So far, nowan hid died. Fur the majority, it wis basically “Get hame tae yer bed, bit keep within sprinting distance ae a lavvy pan and take the antibiotics as described oan the label. Drink plenty ae hot, sugary liquid, and mind and wash yer hauns every time ye’ve hid tae dash aff tae hiv a shite.” Fur the patients that hid ootside, shared toilets oan the stairheid landings, they wur being kept in and monitored tae see if the infection could be cleared up. Two ae the aulder party guests wur gieing particular cause fur concern, as their acute symptoms and prognosis leaned towards Botulism. Baith patients wur displaying the classic symptoms ae weakness ae their muscles, partial paralysis, blurred vision and baith wur finding it difficult tae swallow or speak withoot difficulty. When Elvis hid scooted up tae Stobhill tae see how they wur daeing, the nurses and doctors oan duty hid been hooking the baith ae them up tae ventilators tae ease their distress. Oan tap ae aw this, there wis another patient who hid similar symptoms tae the wans wae the inside lavvies that hid been sent hame earlier, bit she’d been kept in because ae who she wis. He supposed that wis a kind ae safety net or insurance policy fur the future fur those in the know within the hospital authorities. This patient hid also been gied a private room, usually reserved fur celebrities, landed gentry and politicians. The star patient oan this occasion, wis none other than The Purple Lady hersel, Cooncillor Barbara Allen. It hid been her that hid been oan the phone tae that boss ae his earlier, demanding Elvis’s presence up at Stobhill as in bloody-well pronto. Wae trepidation in his heart and that arse ae his letting him know that it wisnae feeling a hunner percent itsel, he’d chapped oan her door and entered efter whit he thought wid be an acceptable delay, tae gie her ladyship time tae make hersel presentable. Apart fae a strong, pervading aroma ae flatulence, the room hid been empty.
“Hello?” he’d announced in a trembling voice.
“Er, is there anywan there?” he’d repeated, louder this time, managing tae take back contol ae they sinuses and that vocal tremor ae his, his eyes being drawn across tae the internal door, behind which he wis sure he detected movement.
Later, oan the way back doon Balgrayhill Road oan the bus tae Springburn Polis Station, he’d tried tae figure oot if his brain hid been exaggerating the sound quality ae wan ae the maist uncannily familiar sounding farts that he’d ever heard in his professional career, so far. Mrs Purple, Cooncillor Allen, despite commanding his appearance in person up at the hospital, clearly wisnae in any fit state tae entertain visitors, at least, no fae the likes ae somewan like him.
“Come back the morra when Ah’m feeling a wee bit better, son,” The Cooncillor hid pitifully groaned fae behind the closed door, clearly succumbing tae the infection since last phoning doon tae The Corporation fur him tae get that arse ae his up that road, as she let oot, tentatively at first, the haunting intro tae the signature tune that that cousin ae his, Jimmy Beaver, the wee cross-e
yed Boys Brigade bugler fae Baillieston, wis fast becoming famous fur.
The last time Elvis hid heard that painful melodic tune, hid been when Jimmy hid gied his solemn rendition ae ‘The Last Post’ tae aw the medal-chested VIPs staunin in front ae the Cenotaph and the silent majority taking up the pavement space, surrounding George Square oan Remembrance Sunday the previous November. At first, he’d wondered if she’d hid a wee radio or tape machine in the bog wae her. That’s how good and crisp her twenty-five bar, wan minute fifteen second rendition hid sounded tae him, as he automatically stood tae attention in the middle ae her private room, transfixed at the solemn sound that wis being emitted oan the other side ae the lavvy door. Although she’d sounded like a panting dug oan heat, gieing the amount ae painful gasps and groaning accompanying the bugling that wis being amplified through the door tae him, he reckoned that melody ae hers wid’ve won the recent series ae Opportunity Knocks wae jist that wan outing alone.
“Aye, awright, Cooncillor Allan. Ah’m jist away the noo, bit will catch up wae ye the morra, when hopefully ye’ll be feeling a lot better, so Ah will. Oh, aye…and in case ye’re wondering who this is, it’s jist me, Elvis Presley, The Sani Man,” he’d replied respectfully, hating himsel fur submissively dumbing doon that title ae his tae try and keep in her good books.
He’d made a quick exit, in case she changed her mind and asked him tae hing oan so she could gie him an earful efter being slung a deliberate deafy by him since the week before.
