The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 (48 page)

  “Governor Crawford.  Yes, speaking.  Yes, I’m married to Mrs Alison Crawford.  You wish me to comment on what?  Who is this?  The Scottish lunchtime news, you say?  Yes…yes, she social works in Possilpark in Glasgow.  Tam Simpson?  Never heard of him.  No, Mr Simpson is not a family friend.  Of course I’m sure.  Look, what is this all about?  How did you get this number?  She’s where?  Transferred to Glasgow Royal infirmary...shot!  Oh my God!” The AG screamed, drapping the receiver oan tae the polished table as Napoleon The Boar stood staring at him wae his mooth open, bottle upended and the wine overflowing o’er the tap ae a glass, creating a large bubbly puddle oan The AG’s good prisoner polished desk.

12.30 A.M.

  “Speak to me, Daddy,” the assistant chief constable demanded, staunin behind his desk.

  “It’s still very fluid, sir.  Aw Ah know is that, at aroond ten tae fifteen minutes past nine this morning, Tam Simpson opened the front door ae a flat he seemingly owns in Hillend Road up in High Possil and tripped a wire that splattered his brains across his neighbour’s front door.  He wis killed instantly.”

  “And this social worker woman?”

  “Her name’s Alison Crawford, aged forty two and works oot ae the social work department office in Possil.  We’re no too sure if she wis oan a call tae a flat in the building, bit whitever she wis daeing there, she caught part ae the blast.  We’re trying tae establish why she wis there, as we speak.  Fae whit Ah kin gather fae the initial assessment made by the polis surgeon, it seems that she wis behind Simpson when the device went aff.  Probably passing him oan the landing.  She’s married tae a prison governor who works oot in Polmont Borstal, oot near Falkirk.”

  “Christ almighty, Daddy!  Do the papers know anything about this yet?”

  “Naw, we’ve goat a clamp-doon oan the personnel involved and she’s under polis protection up in The Royal, efter being transferred across fae The Western.”

  “How bad is she?”

  “We’re no too sure as she’s still in surgery, bit we know she copped it in the neck.”

  “And the device?”

  “Nowan his seen anything like it.  It’s clearly a highly professional hit, so it is.  Probably somewan imported up here fae doon south tae carry it oot.  Wance the photographer and forensic boys ur finished daeing their business, it’ll be transferred doon tae the forensics lab across in the Gorbals.”

  “Who are our main suspects?”

  “Well, as ye know, The Simpsons hiv hid a few run-ins wae a wee manky crew across in Springburn, oan and aff, fur o’er a year noo.  Nothing too heavy that we kin figure oot.  Paddy McPhee, wan ae the local sergeants, his been keeping tabs oan the situation and hisnae reported anything definite that wid lead us tae believe that they could pull something like this aff, so they’re oot ae the picture fur the time being, so they ur.  The Simpson crowd hiv been trying tae put the squeeze oan them and put them oot ae the game.  Aw the indications ur that it’s either Pat Molloy’s boys or Blaster Mackay, fae up in Milton.”

  “What’s Mickey Sherlock saying about it?”

  “Well, Molloy’s still in Spain, as far as we know, bit Wan-bob Broon is back.  Apparently he wis attending a nephew’s funeral.  We’re checking that oot as we speak.  Mickey disnae think Shaun Murphy wid’ve hid a go oan his ain, withoot The Big Man gieing him the nod.  We’ve established where aw Molloy’s boys ur jist noo, bit hivnae tackled any ae them…as yet.  We’re trying tae backtrack oan their known movements in the past twenty four hours, tae try and put them anywhere near Hillend Road. ”

  “And Blaster Mackay?”

  “Ah’ve asked fur a warrant tae turn his place o’er and get him in fur questioning.  Interestingly, a lorry, registered in his name, full ae live chickens, wis found parked up oot oan Great Western Road, jist under the bridge at Anniesland earlier.  Aw the chickens hid been let loose during the morning rush hour.  The polis wur alerted as the main road wis swarming wae aboot fifty wummin and school weans, aw chasing and snatching up the chickens and stuffing them in tae their shoapping and school bags.  Jings Johnston, the local inspector fae Yoker, who spotted it oan the way past, said that it wis like something oot ae ‘The Return ae The Locusts,’ so it wis.”

  “Right, I want kept up-to-date hourly on what is happening up at The Royal.  I’ve arranged a press conference for 3pm this afternoon.  And the other Simpson brother…the psycho one?”

  “He’s clearly been tipped aff, so he his.  There’s nae signs ae him.”

  “And this witness to the killing of the McManus boy?”

  “Harper Harris?  Oh, he’s a good wan, so he is.  Saw everything and his gied a signed statement.  It won’t matter if The Simpsons manage tae get their hauns oan him.  That signed statement will be enough tae send Toby Simpson, Frisky Frank McKenna and that Jo Jo Robson doon fur life, so it will.”

  “Daddy, I’ve picked up that one of the sergeants, this Paddy McPhee one you mentioned, hasn’t been too happy on how Springburn and Possil have been handling things concerning what’s been going on up there.  Is there anything we need to be worried about?”

  “Ach, that’s jist Paddy.  Aye, he hisnae been too happy fur the past few weeks noo, o’er oor response tae the killing ae the McManus boy.  They go back a long way, that pair.  Paddy’s slung the boy’s arse intae the clink mair times than anywan.  It’s aw sorted oot noo though.  Paddy and the other big Irish lump he works wae, Finbar O’Callaghan, wur the wans that lifted Frisky Frank up at Stobhill this morning, so they wur.  Paddy’s keen, bit he sees things that nowan else sees.  He thinks everywan is shite apart fae him and Bumper...that’s O’Callaghan, by the way.”

  “Oh well, as I’ve said, keep me posted and make sure you liaise with the murder squad boys.  I want them to get every support at our disposal.”

  “Right ye are, sir.”

1.00 P.M.

  “Good afternoon.  I’m John Turney and this is the lunchtime news, live from Glasgow.  It’s been reported that one of Glasgow’s most notorious gangsters was shot and killed earlier this morning in the city’s Possilpark district of Glasgow.  Although police have refused to identify the man involved, who is said to be in his mid-forties, it is believed to be Thomas Simpson, of the notorious Simpson Brothers gang, that has been terrorising communities in the northern part of the city for over twenty years.  It has also been reported that a women, who was also shot in the same incident, is a female senior social worker, who works in Possilpark and is the wife of an assistant governor in Polmont Borstal, near Falkirk.

   In a sensational new twist to this story, we can exclusively reveal, through sources at The Glasgow Echo, that the female victim involved in the shooting, Mrs Alison Crawford, also in her forties, had been having an affair with Mr Simpson for some time and has been observed entering and leaving a red sandstone block of flats at 36 Hillend Road, High Possil, every Friday morning with Mr Simpson for some months.  Both arrived and left in separate cars.  The Glasgow Echo has also confirmed that one of their top journalists, Mr Samuel Elliot, has been investigating the affair for some time now and was about to expose the liaison.  Mrs Crawford’s husband, George Crawford, refused to comment when contacted at Polmont Borstal just before we came on air, but did confirm that he did not know Mr Simpson and that he was not a friend or associate of the Crawford family.  At a press conference in Edinburgh, to announce the appointment of Mr Bob Grump, presently Assistant Governor of Craiginches prison in Aberdeen, as the new prison supremo of Barlinnie prison in Glasgow, Mr Jack Brown, manager of Scotland’s prison service, refused to be drawn on the matter, other than to confirm that Mr Crawford has worked with the service for twenty years and to say that his thoughts go out to Mr Crawford and his wife at this difficult time.

  Lord Frank Owen, proprietor of The Glasgow Echo and well-known campaigner against corruption in public life has asked for a full and open public enquiry.  Lord Frank stated that there are key questions to be asked as to why a senior social worker and wife of a senior prison official has been allowed to conduct an affair with such a notorious gangster for so long, without it being brought to the attention of the authorities.  Lord Frank confirmed that The Glasgow Echo will be disclosing the whole investigative story in tomorrow’s Glasgow Echo.  It is believed that Mrs Crawford is under armed police guard in the city’s Royal Infirmary.  A hospital spokesman at The Royal confirmed that a female in her forties had been admitted with gunshot wounds to her neck today, after being transferred from the city’s Western Infirmary, but refused to give any more details as to the extent of her injuries.

  In a separate development, police have arrested two men in connection with the murder of eighteen-year-old Joseph McManus, who was stabbed to death in Gourlay Street, Springburn, on the evening of Thursday, the seventeenth of December.  An arrest warrant has been issued for a third man, Toby Simpson, the brother of Thomas Simpson, who we believe was murdered this morning.  Police have warned the public not to approach Mr Simpson, who they say is extremely dangerous. 

  In a further twist, an abandoned lorry load of live chickens, belonging to Mr James McKay, haulier and scrap merchant from Milton, caused massive disruption during the morning’s rush hour on Great Western Road in Anniesland earlier this morning.  The live chickens, which had been let loose from their cages, are still causing havoc on Great Western Road and police have asked motorists to avoid the area.  Mrs Jemima McKay, when contacted, stated that she had not seen her husband since the early hours of this morning and that she was concerned for the safety of the forty-seven-year-old devoted father and grandfather.  It is believed that Mr McKay is a well-known associate of Thomas and Toby Simpson.  Glasgow Police have refused to be drawn on the matter and have stated that any connection between the disappearance of Mr McKay and the death of Mr Simpson this morning is purely speculation at this juncture.”

2.10. P.M.

  The Stalker’s heid wis spinning.  He couldnae believe whit hid jist happened and wanted tae tell Fin tae shut the fuck up and tae get him back up tae Springburn as fast as he could drive.

  “Ah bloody telt ye it wis a stupid idea, Paddy.  Ye’ll be lucky tae get oot ae this wae yer stripes intact, never mind yer job.  Ah hope ye didnae mention ma name in aw this,” Fin growled, as he crossed intae the High Street fae the Saltmarket.

  The Stalker didnae answer.  He thought ae whit he’d jist gone and done.  Efter himsel and Bumper hid goat a grip ae Frisky Frank and dumped him intae a cell at the station in Springburn, they’d bumped intae The Gruesome Twosome, who wur delivering Jo Jo Robson across fae Possil, fur security reasons, hivving dragged him oot ae his bed.  The whole place hid been buzzing wae the shooting ae Tam Simpson.  It hid been while they wur waiting fur Bobby Mack and some ae his murder crew tae arrive tae question the prisoners that Shane Priestly hid telt him aboot seeing Tony Gucci and Pat McCabe in a car up in Balmore Road oan Wednesday morning.  Shane hid been helping tae cart bits and pieces, like boxes and breakables, fur a pal ae his, who wis moving intae a new hoose in Hillend Road.  That flat wis the wan across the landing fae where Tam Simpson hid goat blasted that morning.  Shane hid said that he’d awready reported this tae his Inspector, Duggie Dougan and Bobby Mack fae the murder squad, bit they’d dismissed it.  Duggie hid said that hauf the gangsters in the city hid been gaun up that road that morning as the funeral ae a wee ned, Freckles Kelly, who’d gone and goat himsel electrocuted oot in Polmont, hid been taking place at The Glesga Crematorium.  Shane hid also said that he could’ve sworn that he’d seen the car, driven by Pat McCabe and wae Tony Gucci in the passenger seat, turn left oot ae Hillend Road and heid up Balmore Road in the direction ae the crematorium.

  “So, whit did Duggie say when ye said that then?”

  “He said that whether Ah did or didnae see them, if there wis two ae them and jist me, it wid be ma word against them.”

  “So, whit dae ye think yersel, Shane?”

  “Look, even if Ah saw the basturts pulling the trigger masel, it widnae matter a toss.  Everywan is putting this oan either The Big Man’s crew or Blaster McKay, so they ur.  Ah’m telling ye, there’s nae speaking tae them, so there isnae.”

  The Stalker hid been fuming.  Everywan hid done great and played their part in getting the two fur the McManus stabbing, bit he didnae believe fur wan minute that Pat Molloy’s guys wur directly involved in Tam Simpson’s demise.  It wis jist too clean and methodical fae whit he’d picked up fae The Gruesome Twosome.  Even if it hidnae been done by any ae The Big Man’s crew themsels and they’d brought in a professional, it wid’ve been a straight forward shooting.  Fae whit Shane hid telt him, this hid been like something oot ae a James Bond movie, so it hid.  Efter mulling it o’er, The Gruesome Twosome and Fin hid tried tae haud him back, bit he’d shaken them aff and hid jumped intae a squad car.

   “Ur ye coming, Fin?” he’d shouted.

   “Look, Ah’ll drive, bit Ah’m staying in the car,” Bumper hid said.

    He’d been in luck.  When he’d goat doon tae St Andrew’s Square, The Assistant Chief Constable, Jack Tipple, hid been walking towards his car.

  “Er, excuse me, Mr Tipple, sir…wid it be possible tae hiv a wee word in yer ear?”

  “What?  Er, I’m just going for my lunch.  Make an appointment through the proper channels…that’s what structures and hierarchy are for,” he’d replied coldly, opening the back door ae the car.