by Ian Todd
“This time there wis a Fox Skulk Wan and Two, so there wis.”
Silence.
“Fox Skulk Two mentioned that there wis a WPC hinging aboot across the road, hivving words wae some wee Ned punting hash oan the corner ae the cross.”
“Collette James. A right useless pain in that arse ae mine, so she is. Remember that name, lads. Ah’ve been trying tae get shot ae her fur a while noo, bit she won’t effing budge. Bloody fucking nightmare. She let the wee fucker get away by staunin watching the show across the road at The Tavern, insteid ae daeing whit she wis supposed tae be getting paid fur,” The Inspector growled, smacking they lips ae his in distaste.
“Aye, well, here’s a good wan fur ye, Duggie. Fox Skulk Two referred tae the WPC as oor friend,” Mickey said, as The Inspector felt that sphincter ae his snap and the blood drain fae his face.
“Fur fuck’s sake!” Billy Liar exploded, as everywan nervously reached fur their fag packets again. ”Whit the hell’s gaun oan up there in Possil, Duggie?”
“Ah hivnae a bloody clue. We’ve been battering that Black Pat and that crew ae his fur weeks noo. Masel and The Gruesome Twosome hiv been putting the black butchers oot ae business since the basturts poisoned aw ma family.”
“Ah thought that wis a group ae wummin fae Springburn?”
“The company wur, bit the meat originated fae Possil. Cooncillor Barbara Allen goat poisoned as well, as did the fruit ae her loins. Ma daughter is engaged tae that son ae hers, so she is.”
“Aye, bit that disnae explain whit the fuck this WPC is up tae, so it disnae,” Mickey Sherlock said oan everywan’s behauf, as they aw looked at The Inspector, squirming in his chair, his fag left smouldering in the ashtray in front ae him.
“Her and that Elvis The Sani Man goat caught up in a wee run-in wae Streaky John McGinnis a while back. The baith ae them ended up wae sore faces, so they did. Ah telt youse, that wee fucking hairy’s nothing bit trouble. Thinks she’s Glesga’s answer tae Inspector Clouseau, so she dis.”
“She’s no still oan their trail, is she?”
“Naw, wan ae ma young pavement pounders ended up wae a sore face in retaliation fur her involvement. That’s another reason why we’ve gone tae toon oan the basturts,” he lied. “She’s back daeing whit she’s good at…responding tae domestics and polising warrant sales at the bottom ae stairheid closes.”
“Aye, bit that still disnae tell us whit the fuck she wis daeing greeting doon at The City Café, dis it Duggie?” Teddy Bare asked him. “And mair tae the point, who is the ‘subject’ that left her sitting there in tears? Ah think that’s the issue here.”
“Ah honestly hivnae a bloody clue, Teddy.”
“A boyfriend?” Mickey wondered, as The Inspector and Bobby Mack baith squirmed.
“She hisnae goat wan, as far as Ah’m aware,” The Inspector volunteered, avoiding eye contact wae Daddy.
“Well, whoever she wis meeting, he or she’s being tailed by these skulking basturts, so they ur,” Mickey said.
Silence.
“Ye said the Special Branch boys wur lugging in tae whit wis happening across in Saracen Street, Mickey. Dae ye think these Skulks wur tracking the black butchers or is there a wider connection tae say, Paddy McPhee and that Johnboy Taylor investigation?”
“Who knows?” the chief inspector replied, shrugging they shoulders ae his. “Whit wis clear, wis that the Special Branch boys wurnae aware ae who this Fox Skulk and his crew wur.”
“Hiv ye spoken tae Paddy?”
“The Stalker? Naw, Ah wanted tae speak tae youse first. That mate ae mine never mentioned whit they wur up tae and Ah never asked.”
“So, we don’t know if the ‘subject’ is male or female?”
“Nope.”
“Well, ye better let Paddy know that there’s been unidentified chatter in the area, Mickey. How that poor basturt’s coping is anywan’s guess,” Daddy said.
“Dae we still no know where the money fur Michelle Hope’s campaign is coming fae?” Teddy asked.
“We still think The Mankys ur in there somewhere, bit so far, there hisnae been a trace. There’s no way that bunch ae hairys kin raise the amount ae dosh they’re spending through wee fundraising discos and donations,” Mickey cursed.
“Whit’s a Skulk?” Billy Liar wondered, bringing them back tae the situation in haun.
“Some basturt that skulks aboot.”
“Aye, Ah know that. Bit why Fox Skulks? Why no Foxtrot Charlie like whit we use?”
“This Fox Skulk Wan didnae mention Yoker, did he, Mickey?” Jings Johnston came in wae.
“Naw, he didnae, Jings, bit Ah thought ye’d be better doon here lugging-in, jist in case,” Daddy explained, as the inspector fae Yoker looked visibly relieved.
“Bit, we’re definitely no talking aboot Special Branch here, Mickey?” Billy Liar asked.
“Naw. Fae whit Ah kin gather, they’re focussed doon in Bridgton and up oan Roystonhill jist noo. It wis the Garngad radio that picked up The City Café chatter. The Possil stuff came through while the Special Branch boys wur heiding doon Keppochhill Road towards Coocaddens.”
“And that’s aw this mate ae yers picked up?”
“That’s it,” Mickey replied, aiming that stream ae smoke towards the dive-bombing flies above their heids as he stubbed his fag-end oot in the ashtray.
“So, any suggestions or ideas oan whit the fuck this is aw aboot then?” Daddy asked them, looking roond the table.
Silence.
“Kin we no jist get shot ae her, Teddy?”
“Naw, Ah widnae go there. We will sometime. Ah’m awready working oan it, bit the stupid bitch tried tae hing hersel recently o’er…er…hiving an affair wae a colleague.”
“Whit, ye’re no still in there, dipping yer wick, Duggie, ya manky basturt, ur ye?” Billy Liar asked, easing the tension in the room, as everywan laughed nervously.
“Am Ah fuck. Ah telt ye, she’s nothing bit trouble that wan. Ah did hiv a wee skirmish wae her a while back…nothing serious, bit she became too demanding, so she did. That finished months ago.”
“The sly basturt tried tae palm her aff oan tae me. Thank fuck Ah missed oot oan that wan,” Jings said, tae mair cackles.
“Right, Ah’m no sure where we go wae this wan until we get mair intel oan whit’s gaun oan here,” Daddy growled.
“Ah’ve asked that mate ae mine tae get back tae me if anything else comes up.”
“Thanks, Mickey. Right, it seems tae me that the baw’s in your court, Duggie. We need tae get oan tap ae this. The thought ae some wee disgruntled WPC skulking aboot, being tailed, makes me feel uneasy, so it dis. Ah mean, whit kind ae information wid she be in a position tae haun o’er that could dae us any damage?”
“Dave McGovern telt me that he caught her sniffing aboot through in the records room a wee while back. We’ve put locks oan aw the historic files, as well as the main door. Tae get access, the pavement pounders need tae get the key fae the front desk or fae Dave and Shane,” The Inspector informed them. “If she’s been pilfering files, then it’ll hiv been stoapped by noo. Ah’ll get Skanky tae spend a bit ae time gaun through the files tae see if there’s anything amiss. There’s no way she kin get access tae anything noo, withoot us being alerted.”
“Mickey, will you see whit that Elvis impersonator is up tae, whit his moves ur, who he’s in contact wae?”
“Nae problem, Daddy.”
“And you, Duggie…this could be serious. No jist fur you, bit fur the rest ae us. Ah want tae know everything she’s up tae, when she eats, who she’s shagging, who she socialises wae, the lot…including aw her movements away fae work,” Daddy said, as everywan laughed. “Anything else?” he asked them, looking at everywan stubbing oot their fags roond the table.
“There is wan other thing, although Ah’m no sure there’s a connection, Daddy. That wee cheating Elvis prick? He’s married tae wan ae us, at least, she used tae be,” Teddy announced.
“Oh?”
> “Kin anywan remember Jessie McBride?”
“Stationed up in Maryhill in the sixties?”
“That’s her. Auburn hair and big tits. She changed her name tae Priscilla Presley efter marrying that stupid prick. They’ve goat a twelve-year-auld brat. Fucking mouthy, jist like that ma and da ae hers.”
“Whit aboot her?”
“That hairy ae Duggie’s is really friendly wae her, so she is. Ma Lesley said that they’re like shite in the neck ae a bottle. Ah’ve banned ma Lesley fae seeing her. Anyway, Lesley telt me Duggie’s wee WPC is aw o’er the shoap, so she is.”
“Whit? Aw o’er the shoap, as in dangerous?” Daddy asked.
“That’s whit she says. Capable ae anything, including suicide, wis her exact words.”
“Deal wae her, Duggie, eh? Don’t let this wee tramp drag any ae us doon noo. That fat pension ae mine is looming up, waiting oan me,” Daddy warned him.
“Aye, nae worries, Daddy. Ah’m oan tae her, so Ah am. Ah’ll get the boys oan the case straight away,” he replied, cursing under his breath, remembering that Shane Priestly wis jist starting a week’s leave tae that wee But ‘n’ Ben ae his in Balfron.
Chapter Sixty Four
He’d decided tae leave the journey until the traffic hid died doon. Efter picking up a wee parcel ae meat fae Mockit Michael, he’d jist managed tae get tae Galbraith’s before it shut, tae get stocked up fur the week doon in the wee holiday hut in Balfron that he’d kept quiet aboot. Even though he never goat as much ae a chance tae use it as he’d like. Alang wae his shares, it wis still wan ae the best investments he’d ever made. Nowan knew aboot it. He wis bloody knackered, so wis looking forward tae a wee bit ae R & R oan his lonesome. He’d jist aboot shat in they breeks ae his when the big car, in full beam, pulled in, in front ae him, oan the Cumbernauld Road, jist north ae Hogganfield Loch. He’d thought he wis being high-jacked, which he wis, bit no by who he’d thought. It wis only when the blue lights in the back shelf ae the car in front ae him hid come oan, that he realised it wis an unmarked car. He hidnae recognise the numbers oan the plates as it wis a set ae Highland wans. He’d sat, grasping the steering wheel, wae that heart ae his pounding, watching two uniformed bodies putting oan their chequered hats, as they exited fae either door and another set ae heidlights, less frenzied than the first pair, drew up behind him. He’d sat and wondered whit the hell wis gaun oan as cars and lorries whizzed past them, heiding in the direction ae Stirling. The wan coming tae his side ae the car looked tae be an inspector, while the lights ae the cars coming in their direction, heiding back towards the toon, dazzled aff the sergeant’s stripes.
“Sergeant Priestly?” The Inspector hid enquired.
“Aye?” he’d asked, rolling doon his windae.
“We’d like you to come with us. Just for a few minutes. We need to pick your brains about a few things we’re enquiring about,” The Inspector, in whit wis clearly a chookter accent, hid said.
“Tae help wae whit enquiries?” he’d asked, stalling them, trying tae figure oot whit the fuck wis gaun oan.
“Och, it looks like it’s chust about to rain,” The Inspector hid replied, looking up at the heavily laden sky.
“Look, Ah’m sorry, boys, bit Ah’m aff duty. Ah’m aff doon tae Balfron fur the week, so Ah am. Ye’d be better getting in touch wae ma work and asking fur Dave McGovern. He’s ma other hauf. Ah’m sure he’ll be able tae gie ye whit ye’re looking fur. He knows jist as much aboot things and whit’s gaun oan as Ah dae.”
“Could you please switch off that engine, sir?” The Inspector hid asked, stiffening slightly.
“Bit…”
“The engine, sir, if you don’t mind?”
“Look, whit the hell’s gaun oan?” he’d demanded.
“Please step out of the car, sir,” The inspector hid asked.
The big sergeant, who wis built like the side ae a brick shithoose, moved roond tae join The Inspector, as a big canvas-covered lorry let oot a long honk oan the way past, covering them in a billowing fine mist ae water left in its tracks.
“Noo whit?” he’d asked, moving roond tae staun at the kerb, noticing fur the first time that it hid been a Black Maria that hid pulled up behind him.
“I wonder if you wouldn’t mind stepping in to the back of the van for a few moments, sergeant. We’d like to ask you a few questions before you’ll be allowed on your way.” The Inspector hid asked, almost too pleasantly, as the bear beside him moved closer.
“Sure, why no,” he’d replied, shrugging they shoulders ae his, turning and walking tae the back ae the van where two mair bizzies wur waiting fur him, wan ae them haudin open the door fur him tae get in.
“Oh, before you go in, sir, we’ll chust put these on to ensure you’re more comfortable,” wan ae the plods announced, swiftly clipping a set ae cuffs oan his wrists, behind his back.
“Whit the fuck?” he’d growled as he wis manhandled intae the back ae van by the bear and the skinny basturt that hid cuffed him. “Whit’s the meaning ae this? Dae youse know who Ah am? Ah’m a sergeant in Glesga’s finest!” he’d growled as the engine in the van kicked intae life and moved aff.
He’d tried tae ask where he wis gaun, bit Brick Shithoose and his pal hid jist sat there and ignored him. Twenty minutes later, he’d been taken intae whit looked like a polis station hoose in some wee village that he didnae recognise.
“Look, Ah demand tae know whit the fuck’s gaun oan,” he’d shouted at them as the cell door slammed shut behind the basturts.
He’d looked aboot. There wis a big white plastic mug filled wae water, bit how he wis supposed drink fae it wis anywan’s guess. In the corner, a solitary prehistoric aluminium chanty pot, wae whit looked like a misshapen, dented, soup pot lid sitting precariously oan the tap ae it, wis sitting in the corner. He’d jist aboot keeled o’er at the sight ae the thick encrusted barnacles clinging oan tae sides ae the inside ae it, alang wae the terrible reek ae stewed cat’s pish. He’d instantly regretted tipping the lid aff ae it wae the toe ae his boot. He’d held oan tae the waistband at the back ae his troosers, as he walked across and plapped that arse ae his doon oan tae the concrete plinth bed. The basturts hid whipped his belt aff ae him in the wee corridor jist before slinging that arse ae his in tae the cell. The first time the cuffs hid been taken aff since the night before, hid been hauf an hour earlier, when The Bear wae the ruddy face and that skinny pal ae his hid arrived wae two big breid pieces stuffed wae Red Leicester in the middle ae it and a mug ae strong tea. He’d filled the chanty up tae the brim wae his first piss since leaving hame ten hours earlier. The basturts still hidnae returned that belt ae his.
He looked aboot the room they’d anchored him in. He didnae know how long he’d sat there listening tae the ticking ae the plastic clock behind him, hinging up oan the wall, bit he reckoned that it must’ve been well o’er an hour. Why the fuck hid he missed the clock efter being dragged past the four other cells in the corridor, protesting his innocence, intae the room? He must be losing it, he cursed under his breath, starting tae feel really nervous noo, still no sure whit the hell wis gaun oan. The room itsel wis bare, apart fae the chair he wis sitting oan wae they wrists ae his re-cuffed behind his back. Aboot four feet in front ae him, another empty chair, similar tae his wan, sat waiting fur somewan tae take up residence oan it. It wis obvious that somewan wis gonnae be interrogating him. He didnae fear The Inspector. Fae whit he’d clocked, he felt comfortable that he could haud his ain wae a dumpling like that. He’d conducted thousands ae interviews o’er the years. He knew every technique and some that hidnae even been invented. There wur a few other chairs scattered aboot the room, bit The Brick Shithoose and Skinny Malinky, his pal, preferred tae staun silently, gaun across tae the netted curtains every noo and again, tae hiv a wee peek oot. They wur either oan edge or wur impatiently waiting fur the real gaffer tae turn up, who clearly wisnae the chookter inspector. It wis definitely a cop shoap he wis in, although fae the quick glance he’d managed
while being hustled alang the corridor fae the cell, none ae the other rooms looked tae hiv furniture, like desks or cabinets in them. Oan the wall across tae his left, there wis a solitary notice board hinging up wae a myriad ae wee yellowing public announcement posters aboot the dangers ae drinking and driving, The Green Cross Code Man and an auld faded poster asking fur information oan the whereaboots ae some wee school lassie fae a village oot in Stirling, who’d disappeared back in 1972, presumed murdered, that some pervert hid goat sent doon fur life fur. His heid swivelled roond at the sign ae movement fae Little and Large.
“She’s here,” Brick Shithoose said tae his pal, as the baith ae them suddenly tugged their creased uniformed jaickets doon at the front and started brushing the dandruff fae their shoulders wae the flat bit ae their fingers. Skinny Malinky started using the back ae his calf tae polish the toes ae his awready immaculate, shiny boots.
The door wis held open by The Inspector, as in stepped a wummin, in a polis uniform, laden wae braid.
“Hello, boys,” she said in welcome tae the two heavies, slipping aff her black leather shoulder bag and drapping it oan tae wan ae the spare chairs.
“Ma’am,” they baith replied, nodding respectfully.
“Look, excuse me…” he demanded, as she turned tae look at him, as if she hidnae noticed that he’d been sitting there, before bending o’er and extracting a fancy wee green leather box and a fag lighter fae her bag, then slowly walking across and sitting in the chair opposite him. “Ur you the wan in charge aboot here?”
He wisnae too sure whit tae say next, so he sat and watched her, a sinking feeling stirring in the pit ae that stomach ae his. She crossed her black nylon legs as she sat doon in the empty chair opposite him, before slowly and methodically opening the wee green box and withdrawing a slim Panatela cigar, lighting it up wae beautifully manicured fingers, as Skinny Arse placed an empty chair wae an ashtray oan it, at her left haun side. He didnae recognise the polis badge. She looked tae be well intae her thirties, wae her dark auburn hair tied up in a bun at the back wae Kirbys haudin her hair in place at the sides and tap. The colour ae her lipstick oan that pale face ae hers reminded him ae the jar ae blackcurrant jam that wis sitting wae aw his other messages in a box in the boot ae his car. Her uniform wis immaculate and wae they black nylons and the wet-look, low-heeled shoes she wis wearing, she could’ve made a killing as a sado-madam in wan ae The Big Man’s upmarket brothels in the toon, he reckoned, his nervousness increasing faster than a lift shooting up tae the tap flair ae The Red Road flats. Efter the slow flair show, The Inspector silently plapped that arse ae his doon oan tae a chair tae the right and slightly behind her. Nowan spoke. Aw eyes in the room wur oan her.
