The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 (40 page)

Chapter Fifty

  It wis a shite day fur a funeral, Tony thought tae himsel, as Pat turned left oot ae Hillend Road, oan tae Balmore Road and shifted up a gear as he sped up the hill towards the crematorium.  Tony looked at his watch.  It wis nearly five past ten.

  “Ye better get yer skates oan, Pat.  There’ll be some strange people sitting in there who won’t appreciate anywan turning up late.”

  “Ur ye sure ye don’t want me tae come in?”

  “Naw, Ah heard it’s jist a private family affair.  Ye better no.  And anyway, Ah don’t like being across here during the day.  We’ve goat Possil and The Simpsons behind us and Milton and Blaster Mackay across tae oor right.  Ah widnae put it past these basturts tae hiv a go, funeral or no,” he said, as Pat increased his speed.

  Tony managed tae grab a pew at the back.  The service hid awready started.  He’d missed the entrance procession, song and the opening prayer and they wur noo gaun through the scriptural readings.  He hoped nobody hid noticed him sneaking in. He wis surprised that they’d gone fur a cremation.  He’d only heard aboot the change in arrangements the night before when he’d bumped intae Baby Huey oan Castle Street, ootside the Provand’s Lordship hoose, oan his way up the road fae Erchie the Basturt’s.  Fur a private family affair, the place wis packed oot.  Tony looked at the casket doon at the front and couldnae imagine that Freckles wis lying in it.  He could jist make oot the back ae the shaking heids that wur sobbing quietly.  He caught sight ae Wan-bob sitting doon in amongst the family.  He relaxed and hoped that he’d be able tae get the chance ae a wee confab before he disappeared.  He didnae want tae go back wae the family tae the wake.  He hated funerals, although this wan wis the first cremation that he’d ever attended.

  “Fredrick ‘Freckles’ Kelly was a young man who left his family much too soon, as a result of a terrible and unfortunate accident, whilst away from his family, friends and home...” the priest started.

  “Awright, Bob?  Ah’m sorry aboot whit happened tae Freckles, so Ah am,” Tony said tae Wan-bob Broon ootside in the car park, the first time it hid been mentioned between them, despite the taxi runs in the back ae a van wae a pillow case wrapped roond his heid.

  “Aye, it’s terrible, so it is.  His da, ma brother-in-law, wis doon seeing a brief tae see if they kin sue the basturts, so he wis.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “They hivnae said, other than he wis emptying totties oot ae the peeling machine in the kitchen and goat electrocuted.  They think it wisnae earthed.”

  “Ye don’t think some basturt tampered wae the machine, dae ye?”

  “We’re no sure.  We’re trying tae get a copy ae the initial report.  How’s that quiet pal ae yours?”

  “Silent?  Oh, he’s gonnae be okay.  He’s still in Falkirk Royal Infirmary, so he is.”

  “Dae ye know who done it?”

  “Aye, Toffee Simpson.  He’s safe where he is jist noo, bit we’ll get the basturt wance he’s oot.  He thinks he’s protected because ae they brothers ae his,” Tony sniffed.

  “Talking ae which...hiv ye goat anything fur me then?”

  “Aye, Ah hiv.  Friday morning.”

  “Hiv ye goat a time?”

  “We reckon roond aboot nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “Is that a definite?”

  “Guaranteed, so it is...gie or take a few minutes, either way.”

  “Anything else Ah should know aboot?”

  “Aye, unfortunately, there might be an innocent involved.”

  “Who?”

  “A social worker.”

  Silence.

  “Talk tae me,” Wan-bob said eventually, dragging deeply oan his fag, as he scanned the car park wae they eyes ae his.

  “He’s goat a wee, fly, hidey hole, so he is.  He’s been perching oan this floozy social worker fur a while noo.  He meets her up at his secret love-nest every Friday morning withoot fail.  It’s the only time we kin be guaranteed that that’s where he’ll be.  The rest ae the time, he’s either oan the move or he’s goat a squad roond aboot him.”

  “And apart fae the social worker, there’s nowan else wae him?”

  “Naw.”

  “Hmm...so whit’s the collateral likely tae be?”

  “Ah spoke tae Erchie The Basturt and Mad Philip and they said that it widnae be good.”

  “Right, here’s whit Ah need ye tae dae, Tony.  Get as much information oan her as ye kin.  Ah’m talking aboot everything...where she works, if she’s married, how long  she’s been getting humped by Tam Simpson...everything ye get, Ah want tae see it.  Ye hivnae goat much time noo.  As soon as ye’ve done that, get the information tae me through Baby Huey.  Ah’ll need it by tea-time oan Thursday night, at the very latest.  Remember, Ah want any dirt oan her that we kin use tae deflect the damage tae us.  Nowan, especially The Big Man, needs tae know aboot the innocent’s involvement at this stage.  Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye.”

  “Right, Ah’ve goat ma nephew’s wake tae attend.  Best ae luck,” Wan-bob said, drapping his fag oan the ground and staunin oan it, before walking across the car park tae join Freckles’s family, who wur sitting in the lead funeral car, waiting fur him.

Chapter Fifty One

  The Stalker grabbed a pew and sat silently, watching Mickey Sherlock taking his time tae lift the teapot lid and gie the hot steaming liquid inside a good stir wae a teaspoon.

  “Ah like ma tea strong, so Ah dae,” Mickey said, by way ae an apology.

  The Stalker hid tried tae persuade Bumper tae come doon wae him tae The City Cafe in Glebe Street, jist across fae The Royal Infirmary.

  “Whit fur?  Ye’re no gonnae get anything oot ae that useless basturt, so ye’re no,” he’d said.

  He watched Mickey pour the milk intae the two mugs that wur sitting oan the table between them.

  “Ah prefer ma milk in first, so Ah dae,” he said, reaching fur the wee jug.

  “Fine wae me, Mickey.”

  “Wan lump or two?” Mickey asked him, his fingers picking up a wee clump ae sugar cubes fae the bowl.

  “Two.”

  “Ah like mine’s in first so the tea kin swirl it aboot in the cup.  Helps dissolve them, so it dis,” he said, by way ae an apology again, as five lumps disappeared intae the mug opposite The Stalker’s.

  The Stalker could feel his depression gripping his guts.  Sitting opposite him wis Glesga’s answer tae Elliot Ness.  This wis the man that him and Bumper wur relying oan tae feed back intelligence tae them oan whit wis happening between Pat Molloy, Gucci and The Simpsons.  The Stalker couldnae remember the last time he’d come across such a useless basturt in aw his life.  How the fuck hid this eejit managed tae wangle his arse intae the position he wis in, he wondered.

  “So, Paddy, whit kin Ah dae ye fur?” he asked eventually, pouring the thick broon tea intae the mugs.

  “Is there any word ae anything?”

  “Like whit?”

  “Like Pat Molloy or they Simpsons?  Hiv ye picked up anything tae dae wae the war that’s taking place underneath everywan’s noses between Springburn and Possil?” 

  “Ah’d hardly call it a war, Paddy.  There’s been a few wee skirmishes between The Simpsons and that young team ae yours, bit a war?  Somehow, Ah don’t think so,” he scoffed, taking a sip ae the brew.

  “Ye cannae be serious, Mickey?” The Stalker demanded, no being able tae hide the bitterness in his voice.

  “Aboot whit?”

  “Aboot whit ye’ve jist come oot wae.”

  “Paddy, Ah spend maist ae ma time, when Ah’m no filling in forms, collecting intelligence.  Believe it or no, Ah’m actually quite good at it, so Ah am.  Noo, fur me tae dae ma job, Ah need tae gather intelligence fae aw different quarters, bit at the end ae the day, Ah’m dependent oan other people and situations.  Noo, as Ah understaun it, yersel and Fin, alang wae that gruesome pair ae useless basturts across in Possil, wur tae get yer noses doon oan tae the ground, tae sniff oot whit’s gaun oan at a local level.  Noo, the fact that Ah hivnae heard fae ye, or The Gruesome Twosome, tends tae suggest that youse hivnae come up wae anything worth passing oan.  Wid that be right?” he asked, blowing the steam away fae the rim towards The Stalker, before taking a noisy slurp.

  “Masel and Fin hid a run-in wae Chic Thompson the other day there.  He wullnae take us aff other duties, despite whit he promised Daddy...the two faced arsehole.”

  “Aye, Ah heard aboot that, so Ah did.  Billy Liar mentioned it in passing this morning.”

  “Fuck, news travels fast.  Ye didnae tell Billy ye wur meeting me, did ye?”

  “Naw, naw, ye’re awright there.  Bit, tae be honest wae ye, Paddy, Ah’m up tae ma eyes in it jist noo.  We’ve hid word that there’s a big shipment ae good Johnny Walker heiding doon south, fae the toon, the morra or Friday.  It’s supposed tae be getting hijacked by The McGregors and we’re gonnae be oan haun, tae pounce, when it happens.  This is roond-the-clock surveillance, so it is.  Everywan is climbing o’er themsels tae be in oan the action, so they ur.  Billy said that Daddy his awready goat a press conference aw lined up, ready tae go, wance we strike, so he his.”

  “And whit aboot oor situation up in Springburn then?”

  “Paddy, fur fuck’s sake.  If this his been gaun oan fur as long as ye say it his, a few days isnae gonnae make a difference, is it?  Don’t worry, we’re oan the case.  If any ae that Possil crowd or yer wee manky mob even lifts their arse above the dyke, we’ll hiv them.  Wan thing Ah’ve learned in The Serious Crime Squad is that ye hiv tae pace yersel...go at a speed that takes everywan alang wae ye.  That’s how ye end up wae the big fish, so it is.  It’s nae good running at something at a hunner mile an hour, getting aw sweaty and aw that.”

  “This is hopeless, so it is.”

  “Whit is?”

  “Aw this...you...the whole set-up.”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Paddy.  It’s Christmas.  Ye’ve goat tae learn tae relax.  The bad guys urnae gonnae go away.  They’ll still be there the morra, so they will,” Mickey said, pouring the milk intae their empty mugs, ready fur a refill.

  “Mickey, wur ye aware that Tam and Toby Simpson’s wee sister topped hersel last year?”

  “Aye, why?”

  “Wis Bobby Mack and Duggie Dougan?”

  “Probably.  Why?  Whit’s the score there?”

  “Mickey, the score is that nowan thought tae tell me and Fin.”

  “Whit yer pals across in Possil decide tae tell ye...or no, hisnae really goat anything tae dae wae me, noo, his it?  And anyway, the hoose wis up in Ashgill.  It wid’ve been the Milton and Bishopbriggs boys that wid’ve been in charge ae the initial investigation…that and the fact there wis nae suspicious circumstances probably meant the Possil boys probably wurnae aware ae the connection wae her brothers at the time.”

  “Mickey, fur Christ’s sake.  If Ah’d known aboot her and McManus, it wid’ve saved me a lot ae bloody hassle, trying tae figure oot a motive fur Joe McManus being stabbed tae death, and that crowd aw battling wae each other, so it wid’ve.”

  “Bobby Mack is the man tae talk tae aboot motives oan murder,” Mickey parried, taking a long sip ae his tea and avoiding eye contact.

  “Ye know, Mickey, some basturt’s gonnae write a book aboot aw this someday and nowan will believe a single fucking word ae it, so they won’t,” The Stalker cursed, lifting up his mug.

Chapter Fifty Two

  “Right, dae any ae youse hiv a clue whit this is?” Tony asked Pat, Snappy and Simon who wur staunin waving their erms aboot, trying tae keep warm, in the empty second flair living room ae a derelict tenement in Glebe Street.

  “Ur we no a bit auld tae be oot stripping copper and lead fae the tenements, Tony?” Simon sniffed, looking oot at the big crane, wae it’s big swinging baw, demolishing a tenement further up the street oan the other side.

  “Ur ye listening, Simon?” Tony asked him.

  “Ah’m listening, Tony,” Snappy said sarcastically, joining Simon at the windae.

  “Right...again.  Dae any ae youse eejits hiv a clue whit the fuck this is?” he asked them, haudin up the block ae wood.

  “Ah gie in,” Pat confessed, as they crowded roond Tony.

  “This is whit’s gonnae take Tam Simpson oot.”

  “That?” Snappy asked, suddenly interested.

  “This,” Tony confirmed.

  “Whit’s that wee bit ae brass joint stuck oan tap ae it?”

  “That’s the barrel and trigger.”

   “Ur ye trying tae tell us that this contraption is some sort ae a gun, Tony?” Simon asked, a look ae disbelief oan his face.  “Whit ur ye supposed tae dae?  Hit the basturt o’er the heid tae knock him oot and then shoot him while he’s lying there unconscious?”

  “This, ya bunch ae diddies, is whit ye call a Poacher’s Retreat.  And nae any auld Poacher’s Retreat at that.  Erchie The Basturt offered me a fortune fur it yesterday, plus a sawn-aff thrown in, so he did,” Tony said, getting their attention.

  “Tony, Ah think Erchie and that mad fucker ae a brother ae his ur taking the piss...and here’s me thinking Mad Philip didnae hiv a sense ae humour,” Snappy chuckled, examining whit looked tae him like a lump ae ten inch long 4x4 fence post, wae whit looked like a plumber’s brass T-junction fur joining pipes thegither screwed oan tap ae it.

  “So, that wee brass thing oan tap must be the gun bit, is it?” Pat asked.

  “Spot on, Pat.  Up in the Highlands, in the last century, the local lords didnae want smellies like us poaching oan their land and stealing aw their juicy rabbits and deer.  Noo, because aw they lords wur ruthless basturts, they goat their heid gamekeepers tae put these thegither in their workshoaps.”

  “So, how dis it work then?”

  “Right, listen up.  Ah’m gonnae take this apart, so watch closely or ye’ll miss it. 
See this brass ring screwed oan tae the end ae the opening?  Believe it or no, bit that’s the barrel.  We unscrew the ring aff,” Tony said, demonstrating by unscrewing the part.  “Wance it’s aff, ye slip a twelve bore shotgun cartridge intae the slot, the same way as if ye’re joining a copper pipe tae a brass joint.  Wance ye’ve done that, ye slot the ring back o’er the cartridge and screw the brass ring back oan tight tae where ye took it aff ae in the first place.  This will haud the cartridge in place…see?” Tony showed them, as they crowded roond him.

  “So, where’s the trigger?” Snappy asked.

 
“Snappy, haud yer horses, ya impatient tadger, ye,” Tony scowled.

  “Aye, shut yer gub, Snappy,” Simon said, smiling.

   “Right, noo, here’s the important bit.  Ye see that wee brass dish, the size ae a shilling attached tae the barrel wae the wee length ae copper wire?  That’s the safety catch.”

  “Whit’s the roond screw thing at the other end fae the cartridge then, Tony?” Snappy asked oan behauf ae them aw.

  “That screw thing that looks like a plunger?” Tony said, easing the plunger oot, “is the hammer that fires the cartridge.”

  Silence.

  “It looks like a brass plunger fae a big syringe,” Pat said, tae nods.

“Noo, we need tae watch whit we’re daeing here.  This is the dangerous bit, so it is, so staun tae the side or behind me, jist in case.  Ah should’ve been showing ye this withoot a cartridge in it, bit whit the fuck, eh?  Apart fae Snappy, we’re no aw daft.  Noo look, when ye pull the plunger oot slowly, it’ll be really tight wae tension, because there’s a spring in the T-joint that ye’re pulling against.  As Ah’m pulling oot the plunger, ye’ll see a wee groove cut intae the stem ae it...dae youse see it?” he asked, looking at them.

  “Aye,” they aw murmured.

  “Right, Simon, slip that wee brass dish that’s hinging doon, wae the cooper wire attaching it tae the T-Joint, intae the wee groove oan the stem ae the plunger.  Haud it in place while Ah slowly release the pressure,” Tony commanded, haudin his breath, as he eased aff oan the pressure and the stem ae the plunger slid back intae the T-joint, until the wee brass dish prevented it fae gaun aw the way in.

  “Noo whit?” Simon asked.

  “It’s noo ermed, so it is, so don’t bloody staun in front ae it,” Tony warned them, gently laying it oan the flair in front ae the door.

  “Ah still don’t get it,” Snappy announced, looking aboot tae see if it wis jist him, as they aw stood staring at the wooden block.

  “The Lords wid get their gamekeepers tae plant these things in the woods, where they knew the poachers wid be walking.  See the hole in either end ae the wooden block?  When ye’ve goat it oan the ground, ye bang in two big nails or spikes tae tag it tae the ground.  Ye then tie a bit ae fishing line oan tae the copper wire that’s attached tae the brass safety dish wae a wee knot jist like this,” Tony said, kneeling doon efter taking a length ae fishing gut oot ae his jaicket pocket and looping the end ae it roond the copper wire and gently tying a knot in it. 

  “Ye then stretch it across the gap where ye expect the poacher tae walk.  When he’s creeping alang in search ae a deer, he walks intae the wire wae his shin, which in turn, pulls oot the wee brass safety dish, causing the plunger tae hammer against the shotgun cartridge.  Ah don’t know if ye noticed, bit the flat bit ae the plunger inside the T-joint his a wee spike oan the centre ae it.  That’s like the hammer oan a gun.  When that wee spike hits the cartridge...boom!” Tony said, slapping his hauns thegither, as they aw jumped.

  “Ah still don’t get it,” Snappy confessed...the only honest wan amongst them.

  “Right, as Ah said, it should really be nailed or screwed doon oan tae the flair, bit watch this,” Tony said, stepping back and letting oot four yards ae the fishing gut.

  “Ur youse ready?” he asked them, getting affirmative nods back.

  “Okay, here goes,” he said, gieing the fishing line attached tae the copper wire a wee tug.

  The explosion ae the shotgun cartridge being discharged and the sound ae a hole aboot twelve inches in diameter being blown oot ae the tap ae the living room door, made everywan duck and scatter at the same time.  If it hidnae been fur the sound ae the tenement building up the street being demolished, o’er the revving ae the digger engines, the deafening silence fae The Mankys wid’ve been like a roar.

  “Fur fuck’s sake...did Ah jist see whit Ah thought Ah jist saw?” Simon exclaimed, gingerly creeping alang the wall tae the door, making sure that he wis oot ae the direct line ae fire ae the Poacher’s Retreat that wis lying oan it’s side, underneath the windae, where it hid landed efter it hid gone aff. 

  “It’s awright, Simon, it only takes wan cartridge at a time,” Tony said wae a big smile oan his coupon.

  “This is unbelievable, so it is,” Snappy said, racing across tae finger the ragged hole in the door before Simon goat tae it first.

  “Noo, that’s whit awaits Tam Simpson oan Friday morning...as long as we kin get oor shit thegither and make sure that we’ve goat everything in place...the way it needs tae be,” Tony impressed upon them.

  “Whit dae we need tae dae then, Tony?” Pat asked, as Snappy and Simon looked across at him, eager tae hear whit his answer wis.

  “Right, Ah’ve goat aw the measurements ae Tam Simpson’s lobby.  The reason we’re here is that we hiv tae set this lobby up, as close tae his pad as we kin.”

  “So, we’re gonnae dae a mock-up ae his place then?” Snappy asked.

  “Spot-on.”

  “Whit fur?”

  “Because he’s probably gonnae be wae that social worker and when he opens his door and trips the wire and sets the Poacher’s Retreat aff, Ah want tae try and keep the shot in the cartridge thegither, rather than allow it tae splay oot across the lobby.  Ah want tae try and avoid hitting her, so we need tae get the distance right between the first wan through the door and the cartridge gaun aff,” Tony explained.

  “Fuck her...that’s whit she gets fur running aboot, getting humped by a gangster, especially a prick like Tam Simpson,” Simon scowled, tae nods ae approval.

  “Bit whit if she’s through the door first, Tony?” Pat asked.

  “I’m coonting oan the fact that he ain’t no gentlemen and that he’ll walk through first, rather than haudin the door open fur her tae go in.”

  “Jist like Snappy,” Pat said, smiling.

  “If Ah wis guaranteed ma nooky, Ah’d sling her through first, jist in case she changed her mind,” Snappy said, tae laughter.

  “It’s a social worker that he’s gonnae be shagging, Snappy, no a bloody chimp.  Whit bird wid let somewan like you perch oan her if she didnae hiv an abundance ae body hair fae her eyebrows doon tae her ankles, eh?” Simon said, laughing.

  “Aye, well, it wis jist as well ye dumped that Paula Baker wan, so it wis,” Snappy shot back.

  “Whit the fuck his Paula Baker goat tae dae wae any ae this?” Simon asked, being taken by surprise at the change ae subject.

  “Nothing, bit she jist telt me yesterday morning that she’s pregnant, so she is.”

  “Whit, ma Paula?”

  “Aye, your Paula.  Ah wis gonnae tell ye last night, bit Ah could tell that ye wur still a bit doon efter yer split wae her three months ago, so being the sensitive type, Ah held back.  Ah’m gonnae be a daddy, so Ah am,” Snappy announced tae everywan, o’er the noise ae the demolition, grinning like a Cheshire cat.