Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (64 page)

Chapter Thirty Nine

  “Right, Mick, spit it oot, and this better be fucking good,” The Big Man demanded, looking up fae his Racing Times, clearly pissed aff.

  “Whit?” replied Mick.

  “Mick, don’t fuck aboot noo.  Fat Fingered wis roond here this morning, bleating like a stuck pig that ye blagged his casino chips aff ae him,” Shaun Murphy snarled at his brother.

  “And whit hiv Ah been telling ye aboot the drink, eh?  Ah don’t want an alky who’s drunk aw the time, looking efter ma business interests.  They make too many mistakes that end up coming back tae bite me,” The Big Man scowled, looking o’er at Shaun and Danny in disgust.

  “They wee manky fuckers ripped us aff.”

  “Whit wee manky fuckers?”

  “The Atalian and his mates.”

  “Whit the hell his this tae dae wae them?” The Big Man demanded, looking between the brothers, wondering if he wis missing a trick.

  “There wis five hunner quid’s worth ae Chevalier chips in that briefcase.  The bizzies hiv put the word oot oan the street that they want them back,” Mick slurred.

  Silence.

  “So, whit the fuck his that goat tae dae wae us then?” Wan-bob Broon finally asked him.

  “Ah deliberately asked that greaser basturt when he wis roond here wae Carrot Heid whit else wis in that case and he body-swerved me.  Ye saw it yersel, Pat.”

  “Ah bloody-well made it clear tae them that whitever else wis in that case, apart fae whit we wur efter, wid be none ae oor bloody business.  Of course he body-swerved ye, ya dumpling, ye.  Ah wid’ve done the same.  If the bizzies ur looking fur the chips, then it’s obviously a smoke screen.  They’re trying tae get tae whoever’s in possession ae the blue folder, which is us, ya fucking eejit, ye.  Noo, wae you poking aboot, ripping everywan aff, they’ll find oot that it wis us.  Ur ye fucking stupid or whit?” The Big Man raged, face ashen.

“Er, Ah’m sorry, Pat…Ah didnae think.”

  “Naw, ye didnae fucking think, did ye?  It cost me a bloody fortune tae get the nod that that blue folder wid be in Sean Smith’s car.  Ah’ve been waiting patiently fur o’er three years tae get that basturt fur whit he did tae me and ma good doos.  That basturt’s responsible fur putting ma da intae an early grave, so he is.  He probably thinks Ah’ve forgotten aw aboot it.   Right, here’s whit ye’re gonnae dae.  Ye’re gonnae haun they chips back tae Fat Fingered the day…this efternoon…and ye’re fucking gonnae say sorry while ye’re at it.  Who else did ye take them aff ae?”

  “Manky Malcolm hid fifty quid’s worth.”

  “He gets his chips back the day as well.  Keep gaun,” The Big Man growled, snapping his fingers impatiently.

  “Aleck The Humph hid the same.”

  “He gets his back as well.”

  “Er, there might be a problem there, Pat,” Mick slurred, looking miserable.

  “Problem?”

  “Er, masel and The Goat managed tae get a haud ae that humph ae his last night and he started tae get a bit lippy.”

  “And?”

   “Well, Ah cannae remember exactly which wan ae us done it, bit we must’ve skelped him a bit too hard because he went doon like a sack ae coal and whacked his heid aff ae the pavement.”

  “So?”

  “So, well, the selfish basturt went and died oan us, didn’t he?”

  “Ur ye trying tae tell me that yersel and that big glaikit lump ae shite, staunin o’er there at the door, snuffed oot Aleck The Humph fur fifty quid’s worth ae casino chips?” The Big Man asked incredulously, haudin his erms oot in wonder.

  “Er, aye,” Mick admitted, as The Big Man launched himsel at him, catching him oan the side ae the heid wae his fist, sending him reeling backwards oan tae his back oan the carpeted flair.

  Danny, Shaun and Wan-bob Broon jumped in and pulled The Big Man back.

  “Whit the fuck did ye dae wae the body, Goat?” The Big Man snarled, looking across at his driver, gieing his shirt collar a wee tug tae straighten it back tae where it wis before he knocked Mick oot.

  “We dumped him in the foundations ae that new multi-storey they’re starting tae build up in Montrose Street late last night.”

  “Did anywan see ye?”

  “Naw.  It wis late oan.  We checked the place o’er before we took the stiff in.  Ah took a run up there this morning and they wur pouring concrete intae the hole wae cement trucks.  Even if anywan knew there wis a body in there, there’s no way they’ll ever get it oot.  Maybe in aboot fifty years fae noo when they knock it doon.”

  “Right, listen up, Shaun, and listen good.  It’s Tiny’s funeral at St Mungo’s Chapel oan Friday.  Yer brother fucking-well better be sober when he turns up or ye’re finished.  Hiv Ah made masel clear?”  The Big Man snarled, stepping o’er the unconscious Mick and heiding fur the exit, closely followed by The Goat
.

  Before he reached the door, The Big Man turned tae face the brothers.

  “And another fucking thing…if Foosty Taylor ever finds oot that that brother ae yers done in her man, even Ah won’t be able tae save him.”

Chapter Forty

  It wis a new dawn and a new day.  A wintry sun wis oot and Johnboy hid jist clocked his ma sauntering intae Sherbet’s fae the windae.

  “Why don’t ye nip doon and speak tae her, Johnboy.  Ye might no get another chance efter the day,” Tony suggested.

  “It’s too risky,” Johnboy replied, looking doon at the shoap front.

  “Naw, it’s no.  Oan ye go,” Tony nudged him encouragingly.

  Johnboy looked roond.  Joe wis making the fire and Paul wis fiddling wae the knob oan the radio.

  “Dae ye think so?”

  “Aye, oan ye go.”

  “Hello, Ma,” Johnboy said, startling her as she came level wae the closemooth in Grafton Street.

  “Johnboy?” she exclaimed, looking aboot her like a frightened rabbit, before nipping intae the closemooth.

  “Ah’m sorry Ah gied ye a fright.”

  “A fright?  Fur Christ’s sake, Johnboy.  Me and yer da hiv been sick wae worry,” she said, patting doon a stray tuft ae his hair, a worried look oan her face.

  “Aye, Ah’m sorry.”

  “Where the hell hiv ye been?”

  “Ach, ye know…”

  “How ur ye daeing?  Ur ye okay?”

  “Ah’m fine.  Ah jist wanted tae say hello.”

  “Christ, whit the hell happened tae yer front tooth?”

  “It goat knocked oot when Ah wis playing fitba,” he lied.

  “Where ur ye staying?”

  Silence.

  “Ye’ll need tae come hame wae me…right this minute,” she demanded, making tae heid oot the close, bit stoapping when she realised he wisnae gaun anywhere wae her.  

  “Johnboy, the polis hiv been turning the place upside doon, looking fur ye.”

  “Aye, well, that’ll be nothing new then,” he replied.

  “Look, it’s okay.  We won’t haun ye in tae the authorities.”

  “Ah cannae.  Ah’m wae ma pals.  Ah hiv tae stay wae them.”

  “Why?” she demanded, before starting tae greet.

  “Because that’s whit Ah hiv tae dae.  If Ah go hame wae you, the polis will only hassle you and Da and ye’ll end up back in the jail,” Johnboy said gently.

  “Ah’m scared ae whit they’ll dae tae ye when they eventually catch up wae ye, which they will.”

  “Ah’m fourteen noo.”

  “No tae me ye urnae.”

  “So, whit’s happening at hame then?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Yer granny and granda wur asking efter ye.  They’ve moved intae the new flats up in Sighthill,” she said, sounding confused.

  “Ah noticed their auld building his been knocked doon oan Murray Street.  There won’t be anything left in the Toonheid soon.”

  “Well, ye look as if ye’ve been eating…that’s something, at least,” she said, clearly back in control.

  “How ur ye daeing?  How’s ma da?”

  “Fine…we’re baith fine.  Yer da his jist bought a wee Morris eleven hunner.  We hid a run doon tae Loch Lomond a few weeks back.  It broke doon twice oan either side ae Dumbarton, bit he managed tae get it started again,” she said, a faint smile appearing oan her face.

  “Look, Ah cannae hing aboot.  Ah’ll need tae go,” Johnboy said, feeling really shite fur aw the grief he’d gied her o’er the years.

  “Bit…”

  “Ma, don’t start…please.”

  “Ur we okay tae cuddle then?” she asked bitterly, eyes filling up again.

  “Aye, Ah think that’s allowed,” he said, smiling, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes as they put their erms roond each other. 

  Johnboy took a deep breath.  She smelled ae Sunlight soap which took him back tae when he wis a wee snapper.

  “Johnboy, we…er…we’re being shifted oot.  They’re knocking aw the tenements doon roond aboot us,” she said, haudin him oot in front ae her.

  “Where ur ye moving tae?”

  “Ah don’t know…Milton or Springburn…who knows?  Ah’m waiting fur another offer fae The Corporation.  How will ye know where we ur?”

  “Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot that.  Ah’ll soon track ye doon.  Ah cannae see you living the quiet life, wherever ye end up,” he replied, a wee smile oan his lips.

  “Johnboy, come hame wae me…”

  “Look, Ah’ll be in touch.  Ah hiv tae go,” he said, breaking her grip as she touched his cheek fleetingly before he heided oot the back close.

  “Johnboy…” he heard her shout as he disappeared through Frankie Wilson’s close.

  Johnboy took his time heiding back up tae the den.  It gied him time tae dry they eyes ae his.  He knew Tony wid be watching him when he arrived back.  He inspected their escape route.  He wis satisfied that there wis nae way that anywan wid be able tae take them by surprise, unless they knew whit tae look oot fur.

  “The prodigal son returns,” Joe quipped.

  “How wis she, Johnboy?”

  “Fine…she wis a bit upset.  She wanted me tae go hame wae her.”

  “Imagine the pleasure that wid gie Bumper and The Stalker?  Jailing the maw and the son?”

  “Did ye gie her the dosh?” Tony asked.

  “Ah slipped it in tae her pocket when she gied me a hug.  That’s probably aboot two weeks’ worth ae ma da’s wages that she’ll find when she slips her haun in tae pull oot wan ae her single fags.”

  “Imagine whit ye wid find slipping yer fingers intae Joe’s pocket, eh?  It disnae fucking bear thinking aboot,” Paul said, getting a laugh fae everywan.

  “Well, that’s no whit that sister ae yers thought,” Joe retorted.

  “So, whit time’s the funeral again?” Johnboy asked.

  “Two o’clock, which means they’ll rabbit oan like fuck fur aboot two hours and then it’ll be aff tae the graveyard up in Sighthill,” Paul replied.

  “And then back tae The McAslin fur the pish-up,” Joe added.

  Johnboy thought back tae the conversation the night before.  It hid taken him ages tae get tae sleep.  Tony and Joe hid disappeared doon tae Erchie The Basturt’s.  When they’d returned, everything hid been settled.  They’d taken whit wis left ae the casino chips and Erchie hid snapped them up.  He’d also spent a couple ae hours wae them, gaun o’er whit they should and shouldnae dae.

  “The closer the better.  Go fur two shots insteid ae the wan.  Don’t fuck aboot and hesitate.  Jist get in and get oot again.  Two quick pop-pops and away.  Ye hiv tae dae it fae the back or the side ae the heid, close up.  Whitever ye dae, don’t confront the basturt.  It’s hard tae pull the trigger if a couple ae pleading Bambi eyes ur looking intae yours.  Whitever ye dae, don’t drap the gun.  Make sure ye take it wae youse.  And another thing…plan a fall-back position.  Efter ye leave here, only the shooter gets tae touch the gun, even if everywan else is wearing gloves.  Remember, Paul, feel the gun, get used tae its weight, walk aboot wae it, haud it oot in front ae ye, bit don’t dae this in front ae a mirror though, as it could freak ye oot as ye’re basically seeing whit whoever’s getting plugged is seeing.  As soon as it’s done, change aw yer gear, including yer shoes.  Make sure ye burn everything, and Ah mean everything.  It wid surprise ye whit they forensic boys kin find oot these days,” Erchie hid drummed intae them. 

  And noo they wur there.  The big day hid dawned.  Tiny’s funeral hid been whit they’d been waiting fur.  It hid put Mick Murphy bang intae the centre ae the cross-hairs.  Mick wis behind the reason that Johnboy wis staunin, smiling, listening tae Joe and Paul arguing o’er who hid the biggest and sorest pluke oan the side ae their nose.  Nothing mattered anymair.  The only problem they hid wis how tae dae this withoot getting found oot by either the polis or The Big Man.  Mick wis the only wan ae the brothers left living in the Toonheid.  Danny and Shaun hid moved oot a few years earlier when the tenements in Ronald Street, where the brothers hid lived, started tae be pulled doon.  Mick hid stayed tae run the stables and The McAslin Bar.  He lived in a ground flair hoose at the Parly Road end ae Martyr Street.  If he looked oot ae his front windae, he wid’ve been able tae see the cabin…their cabin…if he hidnae burnt the bloody thing doon, wae Skull and Elvis in it.  Their plan wis simple.  They knew he wis gonnae be pished at The McAslin Bar efter the funeral and that he’d be staggering hame oan his lonesome later oan that night.  The plan wis fur Paul jist tae walk up tae him and let him have it in the back ae the heid.  End ae story.  Joe hidnae been happy and hid argued o’er that wan.

  “Whit’s the point ae that?  He’s no gonnae know why he’s copping his whack.  Ah think Paul should staun there in front ae the basturt and let him know who the fuck we ur and why he’s getting whit he deserves.”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Joe, why complicate things?  Why don’t we jist hiv a wee cup ae tea wae him, jist tae make sure that the message sinks in before the bullet dis?” Johnboy argued, still getting flashbacks ae Jessie’s blood slowly seeping across the pavement towards him roond oan St James Road.

  “Johnboy, shut the fuck up…this is between us.  You don’t know whit the fuck Ah’m oan aboot.  And anyway, you’d only jist met Skull.  We aw went tae school thegither wae him.”

  “Joe, stoap taking it oot oan Johnboy because ye didnae pick the longest bit ae wire.  We’ve awready made the decision.  And anyway, it’s awright fur you…Ah’m the wan that’s gonnae hiv tae pull the trigger.”

  “Joe, we cannae fuck aboot wae this.  We cannae afford tae take chances.  This place is gonnae explode o’er this.  The Big Man and aw that crowd ur gonnae be gunning fur anywan who’s even goat a whiff ae being involved in this.  We cannae be seen tae be anywhere oan or near the same street where the shooting takes place and McAslin Street is wan ae the longest bloody streets in Glesga,” Tony reminded him.

  “Ah still think youse ur making a mistake.  Unless he knows why the fuck he’s getting done in, then whit’s the point?  Anyhow, that’s jist ma opinion, so youse kin take it or stuff it.”

  “Good.  Noo that that’s been decided, we’ll keep it in mind, and leave it at that,” Tony said, as Paul burst intae laughter, followed by a nervous laugh fae Johnboy.

  “Whit?  Whit did Ah say?” Joe asked, joining in.

  “Nothing.  It’s no whit ye’ve jist said.  It’s jist you.  Ye’re a grand sized prick, McManus, so ye ur,” Paul said, starting tae gaither up his gear.