by Ian Todd
“Whit’s Crankie and Crankier saying aboot the charges, John?” Black Pat asked him.
“Wan ae them, Ah cannae remember which wan noo, seeing as they look like bloody twin vultures, assures me that the stinking horsemeat hinging up doon at the auld iron works, won’t staun up in court. Neither will attempting tae murder the wee poliswummin and that sani man, so baith charges will probably get drapped. It’s the remnants ae the coke in the plastic bags and the spillage oan the wee pish-catcher carpet when Melinda wis trying tae flush it doon the lavvy that’ll be the challenge.”
“Ach, surely they cannae hiv goat that much up aff ae the carpet, John?” Willie Commotion challenged him.
“Naw, they didnae, thank fuck. They managed tae get jist o’er three grams, so they did. It wis the number ae empty bags that wur lying scattered aboot oan the flair, torn open, that’ll dae the damage. Crankie said that they’ve estimated there wis aboot five ounces flushed doon the pan, the dunder fuck-wits. It wis mair like ten ounces,” Streaky John said, smirking, as everywan else chortled.
“Fucking eejits!”
“Well, at least ye goat oot oan bail. That’ll gie us time tae work oan any witnesses, so it will.”
“Aye, nae thanks tae that fucking Dougan basturt. He telt the judge that Ah wis a fugitive risk, due tae that wee spread ae mine across in Marbella, the prick-faced cunt! That’s me and Melinda’s winter holiday goosed since Ah hid tae surrender that passport ae mine tae meet the terms ae the bail conditions. She still disnae know. Ah didnae hiv the heart tae tell the poor wee thing…no efter whit she’s being through this past wee while. Ah want somewan’s baws fried oan a plate fur this.”
“Tell John whit that Shane Priestly prick telt ye, Michael,” Black Pat scowled, lifting the side ae that arse ae his up and letting oot a wee pipsqueak.
“He says Dougan wants compensation fur that brother-in-law ae his.”
“Whit the fuck his that goat tae dae wae us? We never laid a haun oan the basturt,” Streaky John howled in indignation, shaking his heid at the injustice ae the situation they’d found themsels in.
“That’s whit Ah telt him. Ah also said that we’d be willing tae make a substantial contribution, payable o’er a longer period, bit that they’d need tae get the two sides tae come up wae a mutual agreement first. He said that he’d pass it oan.”
“It’s that fucking wee sani man’s fault, so it is. Ah heard that he wis the wan in charge ae the operation behind the scenes, pulling everywan’s strings, so he wis. There’s been nothing bit fucking trouble since that wee ugly imposter arrived oan the scene.”
“Whit’s his story then?”
“There’s a stay-at-hame wife and a lassie aged aboot eleven or twelve. He lives in Kildonan Avenue, a wee quiet street across in Partick. The lassie walks doon tae Crow Road tae get picked up by the school bus, so it shouldnae be too difficult if we wanted tae snatch her as a persuader fur the basturt tae back aff and change that bloody tune ae his.”
“And ye missed Herbie Maxwell’s funeral as well.”
“Ach, Ah wisnae too bothered aboot that. Ah heard there wisnae many people turned up.”
“Aye, everywan’s keeping their heids doon, seeing as this wis the first cocaine bust in the toon…until noo,” Black Pat scowled.
“So, whit ur we gonnae dae aboot the business side ae things, Pat?” Willie Commotion asked, getting back tae the business in haun, efter taking the risk ae hivving a meeting in the toon despite Wan-bob Broon’s warning.
“Dougan his laid waste tae everything, so he his. There’s nae meat gaun oot and nae money coming in. And remember, that coke-bust his cost us a bloody fortune as well, so it his.”
“Bit where’s Wan-bob in aw this? If we’re affected, then surely he is tae. If we cannae pay him his monthly dues, surely he isnae gonnae put up wae that fur long?”
“That basturt isnae dependent oan the pittance we gie him. That’s only pin money tae somewan like him. Charlie Hastie telt me that he’s playing a waiting game…”
“Wae oor livelihood,” Streaky John cursed, interrupting Black Pat.
“Aye, wae that as well, John, bit there isnae much we kin dae aboot it meantime. Christ, if any ae that crowd even knew Ah wis in the toon, they poor burnt baws ae mine wid be hinging up where Ah widnae want tae see them wae ma ain eyes.”
“Bit, surely we cannae be expected tae lay doon, spreading the cheeks ae oor arses, inviting everywan tae gie it a kick?”
“They hivnae discovered the shed up in High Possil. Ah’ve telt Shifty Shuggie tae go caw-canny. Nae daytime movement and only tae supply the McAllisters, Fishers and Baxters. Fuck Wan-bob. We cannae be expected tae starve, so we cannae.”
“Ah’m telling youse, if Tam and Toby Simpson wur still oan the go, we widnae hiv hid tae put up wae aw this kind ae shite, so we widnae,” Mockit Michael bleated.
“It’s that Dougan. Take that basturt oot ae the game and the problem’s solved, so it is.”
“Whit’s that supposed tae mean, John?”
“Ye heard me the first time, Pat.”
Silence.
“Naw, Ah didnae. If ye’re thinking whit Ah think ye’re thinking, then ye’re gonnae end up in an unmarked grave, so ye ur. Don’t mess aboot wae that Wan-bob or Charlie Hastie, John. They’ll wipe ye oot as soon as look at ye. There’s a lot ae smarter people than us that’ve thought they could get wan o’er oan that pair ae snakes and ended up haudin up a stanchion oan wan ae the new bridges in the toon. Don’t go there. It’s no worth it.”
“Look whit happened tae Tam and Toby,” Four Fingers reminded them fae across at the door, speaking fur the first time as that arse ae his let rip again.
“If they basturts won’t dae something aboot Dougan, then Ah will,” Streaky John growled threateningly, looking at them.
“Whit rule book is it that says we cannae take oot an inspector tae protect oor interests, Pat?” Willie Commotion asked, as Black Pat jist aboot swallowed that nip glass ae his. “Ah mean, that basturt’s mair ae a crook than Ah am, so he is.”
“It’s nothing tae dae wae how much ae a crook he is or no. Christ, hauf the inspectors in the toon ur oan the take, so they ur. Everywan knows that. Get shot ae wan ae them and they’ll aw club thegither and come doon oan everywan like a ton ae bricks. If that happens, it encroaches oan everywan else who’re gaun aboot their business, happy as Larry. Before ye know it, ye’d hiv aw the biggest shitehooses in the toon oot tae get ye, as well as the polis themsels. No the best ae moves, that wan.”
“We cannae go oan like this furever, Pat. John’s right. Something will need tae give. We’ve goat an awful lot ae ootlay in time, money and people who need paid every week,” Willie Commotion growled, chipping in again. “That’s nearly two weeks noo. And wae you confined tae barracks oot in Campsie? Ah’m jist no sure that we could stoap any ae they wee trigger-happy basturts taking the situation intae their ain hauns, so Ah’m no. ”
“Willie…John…listen tae me. Don’t even think ae gaun there. It wid be the worst decision ae yer life…and probably also yer last,” Black Pat pleaded wae them, lifting up that arse ae his and letting rip wae a slabbery wan, as he shook the empty glass in his haun fur Four Fingers tae get him a refill.
Chapter Fifty Five
Fur the size ae her, she could compete wae a hungry hyena, so she could, Senga thought tae hersel at Lizzie’s discrete look ae disappointment when the last dollop ae mince fae the pot landed oan Collette’s plate wae a splat, making Senga smile.
“Ur ye sure ye didnae want tae share this last wee bit ae mince wae me, Lizzie, hen?” The WPC asked, using the dark crust ae her well-fired roll tae wipe up the gravy aff ae her plate. “This is bloody stoating, so it is.”
“Naw, naw, you jist go aheid, Collette. It looks like you need whit’s left far mair than whit Ah dae. And anyway, Ah’m oan a diet, so Ah am.”
“Christ, if you’re oan a diet, then Ah’m obviously ignoring the obvious,” Collette replied, drapping h
er fork oan tae the plate wae a clatter before slapping the side ae that arse ae hers, as Lizzie and Senga smiled at each other.
“Aye, well, we wurnae aw born tae look like mannequins, so we wurnae,” Lizzie replied, nodding across in Senga’s direction.
“It’s no how much ye eat, it’s whit ye eat,” Senga replied.
The run doon the road fae Springburn intae the Coocaddens in the squad car hid been nerve-wracking, especially wae the crackling voices coming o’er the radio intermittently, interrupting the stiff conversation aboot the continuing decimation ae the area they wur travelling through. Efter being lucky enough at that time ae the night tae find a parking space close tae her closemooth oan Barrington Avenue, Senga hid wanted tae bolt up the stairs, two at a time, bit hid held back, jist in case the envelope tumbled oot oan tae the stairs. Her stomach hid settled doon wance she’d been able tae go and get changed oot ae her uniform and slip the campaign money under her pillow.
“So, ye wur saying ye wanted a word, Collette?” Senga asked, lifting up the plates and putting them in the basin across at the sink.
“Oh, dae ye want me tae disappear?” Lizzie asked.
“Naw!” Senga retorted too loudly, clearly still spooked, as WPC Shiny Buttons looked across at her wae a puzzled expression oan her coupon.
“Well, Ah’m okay, if you ur,” Collette replied, wiping her lips wae the damp cloth that Senga handed across tae her. “It’s aboot Sharon Campbell and aw the other wummin, including that ma ae yers, poisoning hauf ae Possil and that inspector ae mine wae their Springburn’s Larder Catering Company grub.”
“Oh, Ah see,” Senga sighed loudly, before quickly dampening doon the relief in that voice ae hers.
“Aye, aboot you gaun up tae Springburn and daeing training wae them or something.”
“Eh?”
“Oan handling food,” Collette continued. “Sharon Campbell claims you helped them oot wae advice aboot handling food, so she did.”
“Did Ah? Ah suppose Ah did, noo that ye’ve mentioned it.”
“So, is that an aye then?”
“Ye could say that.”
“Or a maybe?”
“When that ma ae mine telt me they’d started daeing the catering fur some ae the local wedding and funeral receptions, Ah remember reminding her no tae use the same boards fur cutting up raw meat like chicken and stuff that they’d use fur cooked meat or salady stuff,” Senga replied, as the WPC opened her wee black notebook and started writing.
“Look, whit’s this aw aboot, Collette?” Senga asked, as the WPC looked at her wristwatch and wrote doon the time.
“That boss ae mine, Inspector Dougan? The wan whose family they poisoned, his instructed me tae collect a statement fur Elvis The Sani Man, who’s investigating the public health aspect ae the people who wur poisoned. Seemingly, Sharon Campbell telt him that you gied them advice oan handling food.”
“So, ye’re asking me tae gie a statement that could get that wee ma ae mine slung in the jail? Ur ye sure that’s allowed?”
“Whit?”
“A daughter gieing evidence against her ain ma?”
“Naw, don’t be daft. You’re thinking ae a wife no needing tae gie incriminating evidence against that man ae hers in a murder case or something. Ah’m jist looking fur ye tae corroborate whit she said. Whitever you say, you being a nurse and aw that, wid probably dae them mair good than herm, so it wid.”
“Aye, bit it wisnae in any official capacity…me advising them. Ah know aw the wummin, so Ah dae. They’re a brilliant bunch and a great laugh. When Ah wis up at ma ma’s a few times, Ah went roond tae The Springburn Halls’ kitchen tae catch up wae them. Fae whit Ah could gather, they wurnae in need ae any advice fae me. Sharon and wan ae the other wummin, Soiled Sally, hid done Health & Food Hygiene training when they wur in the clink fur punching wan ae your lot and a Sheriff officer up a closemooth during a warrant sale,” Senga replied, as the baith ae them smiled. “Ah heard you’re a bit ae an expert when it comes tae calming the peace doon in the front ae closemooths wae aw the wummin across there in Possil.”
“Ach, Ah widnae say that. The crowd Ah hiv tae deal wae urnae like that mad bunch ae anti-men…oh, er, sorry. Ye know whit Ah mean?”
“Don’t apologise. How that poor da ae mine and the others hivnae strangled the lot ae them before noo is a bloody miracle, so it is,” Senga said, as the three ae them laughed. “Did you no get an award or something fur how ye managed tae tame the wild wummin ae Possil?”
“It used tae be called a mention in despatches,” Collette quipped. “Bit noo, it’s ‘Award the daft cow wae a wee bit ae paper wae her name oan it and she’ll keep up the good work us guys cannae be arsed wae, fur a wee while longer,’” Collette replied, tae mair laughter.
“Look, Ah’m sorry, bit Ah’m aff tae ma bed. Ah’m oan the early shift in the morning and hiv tae be up at the crack ae dawn, so Ah dae. Nice tae meet ye Collette,” Lizzie said, staunin up and heiding fur the kitchen door.
Senga sat and relayed whit she knew and hid observed aboot the preparatory environment the Springburn Larder wummin operated in, when they hired The Springburn Halls’ kitchen tae prepare fur a bash. She wanted tae mention the Possil polis inspector’s obviously dodgy involvement in the situation, bit kept well away, seeing as the WPC hidnae strayed away fae keeping it professional hersel. Jist as she yawned and hinted that she too, wis feeling tired, The WPC struck.
“Ah never knew that yer flatmate Lizzie and yersel wur as heavily involved in the Free Johnboy Taylor campaign as ye obviously ur,” she slipped in casually.
“And Ah cannae recall keeping ma association wae him or Tony Gucci a secret that night doon in La Parisian either, so Ah cannae,” she’d replied curtly, instantly wary.
“Aye, bit ye didnae tell me that ye shared a flat wae wan ae the key witnesses against Paddy McPhee, Senga,” The WPC said offhandedly…too casually fur Senga’s mind.
“Okay, Ah’m sorry. Ah share a flat wae the nurse that lugged intae a dying man’s deathbed confession tae that Stalker wan. The same wan who decided tae keep quiet aboot whit hid been revealed. This despite the fact that her colleague, who she’d stood in fur that night at short notice, jist happened tae get run o’er in a hit-and-run incident up oan Balgrayhill Road wae a transit van a few weeks later. Pretty convenient, don’t ye think?” she drawled sarcastically.
“So, ye obviously still believe there is, wis, a cover-up then?”
“Oh, fur goodness sake, Collette.”
“Look. Ah’m no saying either way whether Ah believe there could’ve been a cover-up or no, bit as Ah think Ah telt ye doon in that wine bar that night, Ah’ve heard oan good authority that there hidnae been wan.”
“Says who?”
“Says somewan who wid know.”
“So, ye’ve read the case review report that wis done by senior management then?”
“Naw, no me, bit…”
“Whit?”
“Ah know somewan who his. A good pal ae mine who works within Serious Crime and Intelligence doon in Pitt Street. She telt me.”
“Whit?”
“That the review people searched through aw the evidence wae a fine-toothed comb and came up wae zilch.”
“Zilch?”
“That’s whit she said, so she did.”
“And ye believe her?”
“Of course. She widnae, er, lie, tae me, so she widnae,” Collette replied, suddenly realising that she’d unintentionally lied tae The Nurse.
“Ye don’t sound that convincing tae yersel, let alone tae somewan like me,” Senga retorted.
“Naw, sorry, of course Ah’m convinced. Ah jist remembered something tae dae wae ma work that Ah wis supposed tae hiv taken care ae earlier. It’s nothing. Anyway, she telt me that there wis nae cover-up. That’s good enough fur me, so it is,” Collette lied.
“Look, Collette. Ah’ll need tae go tae ma bed masel. Ah’m shattered. Ah’ve been oan the go since the crack ae dawn, so Ah hiv,” S
enga said, yawning and stretching.
“Senga? Kin Ah ask ye a question?”
“Fire away.”
“Hiv you ever heard ae a group a wummin called The Showgirls?”
“The Showgirls? Whit, ur they some sort ae cabaret act like?”
“Naw.”
“Then whit?”
“They’re a group ae wummin who go aboot exposing men, bosses, who they believe sexually harass wummin at their work?” she replied, watching Senga’s features closely, especially they green and blue eyes ae hers.
Nothing.
“When ye say go aboot, whit dis ‘go aboot’ mean?”
“It means they expose bosses who sex…”
“Aye, Ah get the drift, bit where dae they ‘go aboot’ tae dae aw this?”
“Ootside shoaps and factories, hospitals, schools, in fact, they dae it everywhere.”
“How?”
“By plastering blown-up pictures, photos ae the culprits, up oan billboards, leaving messages, usually spray-painted graffiti, highlighting their crimes fur everywan tae clock oan the way past.”
“Bloody brilliant!” Senga laughed. “Serves the basturts right. It’s aboot time us wummin stood up fur oorsels.”
“So, ye’ve genuinely never heard ae them then?” Collette asked, biting her bottom lip, disappointment in her voice.
“Well, put it this way, Collette. Even if Ah hid, ye don’t think fur wan minute that Ah’d admit it tae somewan like you, dae ye?”
“Why no?”
“Because ye’re a bloody poliswummin, that why,” Senga shouted at her, laughing.
“Oh, right, Ah see whit ye mean. Aye, Ah suppose that’s understandable.”
“Anyhow, why ur ye asking me?”
