The Silver Arrow (21 page)

Chapter Twenty Seven

  Aw the goodness, joy and relief ae finding oot that he hidnae been responsible fur the death ae the nurse hid gone straight oot the windae efter he’d arrived back at the station, only tae find oot that some dirty, sneaky basturt hid tanned his office.  Efter he’d bawled oot Happy Harry fur leaving that daft prick, Bob Hope, in charge ae the desk, even if it hid been jist fur ten minutes, he’d soon settled doon.  The relief he wis feeling wis jist too strong fur anything tae dampen doon his spirits.  She wis alive!  He wanted tae nip up tae Stobhill General straight away and gie her a big cuddle, even if she wis a lippy cow, bit the break-in hid tae be responded tae.  He’d managed tae persuade Black Tam, wan ae the Paki fingerprint boys, tae nip up fae the Gorbals tae gie his desk a wee dusting, even though he knew fine well that it wid’ve been well wiped clean.  When he’d walked in and clocked the state ae it, he’d jist aboot hid a hairy fit.  They hidnae even pretended tae be experts.  They’d jist burst the fucking drawer open.  When he’d stoapped panicking and found the pocket notebook containing Haufwit’s statements, he’d wanted tae kiss a startled, sweaty, Happy Harry.

  “Christ, Ah thought Ah wis in fur a suspension when Ah ran through and saw ye staunin by yer desk, Paddy,” Happy hid said, wae obvious relief.

  “Believe you me, Happy, if this notebook hid gone walkies, Ah wid’ve booted yer baws aw o’er that car park oot there and then Ah wid’ve suspended ye,” he’d growled, still overcome wae waves ae relief.

  How wid he hiv explained the loss tae Daddy?  At first, he hidnae sussed oot the reason fur the break-in and then it hid hit him.  Gucci’s Jap book, The Art ae War, wis missing…the wan he’d lifted oot ae Gucci’s flat across oan Petershill Road the night him and Bumper hid lifted him oan suspicion ae shooting Tam Simpson earlier that day oan Hogmanay, back in seventy wan.  Although he’d tried tae read it o’er the years, as well as work oot why Gucci hid underlined and underscored sections throughoot it, he’d never managed tae crack whit the attraction wis tae somewan like Gucci…unless he saw himsel as some sort ae general, insteid ae the manky-arsed Ned that he obviously wis.  The Stalker tried tae remember some ae the stuff Gucci hid underscored.  ‘Appear weak when ye’re strong and strong when ye’re weak’ wis wan ae them.  ‘Tae know yer enemy, ye hiv tae become yer enemy’ wis another that didnae mean much tae Paddy.  Bumper hid suggested that it wis the same as ‘tae know a bizzy, ye hiv tae be wan,’ which wis probably true.   Baith Paddy and Bumper hid heard ‘All’s fair in love and war,’ bit then again, whit wis that supposed tae really mean?  At the end ae the day, the book hid ended up taking up space in his drawer.  He knew Gucci hid been pissed aff aboot it as his brief at the time, Graham Portoy, hid threatened legal action tae get it back, bit Paddy hid denied aw knowledge ae hivving it.  Whit hid really goat tae Paddy and Bumper wis the thought ae wan ae they filthy manky basturts hivving the audacity tae break intae the heart ae their territory…the polis station…and tae be able tae swan aff wae the book.  The book itsel wis worthless, especially wae aw Gucci’s scribbling in it.  It wis the bloody principle ae being invaded by riff-raff that hid goat up everywan’s noses.  He’d hid tae haud Bumper back fae nipping back oot tae the car and doon tae Epstein’s carpet warehouse tae tear the face aff ae him.

  “Bumper, leave it.  We’ll get the basturts.  Confronting them, in front ae hostile witnesses, isnae the way tae dae it, at least no wae that shitehoose ae a lawyer they’ve goat behind them,” he’d instructed Bumper efter managing tae settle him doon.

Wance the dust hid settled, he’d passed the notebook oan tae Happy Harry tae haun it in tae Central oan the way across tae the south side ae the city, oan his way hame efter his shift.  Fuck Daddy.  If he wanted the notebook, then let him hiv it.  It meant the contents wurnae The Stalker’s responsibility or concern anymair.  He stretched his erms above his heid and yawned.  He hidnae hid a decent night’s kip since he’d come back fae Spain and Bumper hid raised the possibility ae the triple murder.  He wis glad there wisnae a connection between the nurse, the farmer and the doctor.  He’d sleep that night…his conscience wis clear.

  “
Good evening.  My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.

  A missing teenage schoolgirl has been found, believed strangled, on the tow path between the playing fields and The Corporation Transport garage in Riddrie this morning, by a man out walking his dog.  The distressed parents of fifteen-year-old Cathy Neilson, who was reported missing last night after failing to return from school to the family home in Bellrock Street, Cranhill, were too distressed to make a statement.  Chief Inspector Bobby Mack of the city’s murder squad has asked anyone having seen anyone acting suspiciously between the hours of…

  Robert Milhench, the man who forged the Prime Minister’s signature in a property development deal has been sentenced to three years prison…

  Two prisoners serving life sentences appeared at Glasgow Sheriff Court today amidst tight security, charged with taking a prison officer hostage at one of Scotland’s biggest and most overcrowded prisons.  Thomas Kennedy and Jack Daniels denied assaulting Senior Officer Peter Harrison to his severe injury by placing a rope around his neck and assaulting him with his own baton two months ago whilst down in Barlinnie from Perth Prison for family visits.  Graham Portoy, solicitor for the two prisoners raised concerns with Sheriff Clifford Burns that his clients had been held in solitary confinement twenty four hours a day since being charged and had suffered numerous assaults at the hands of prison staff.  Sheriff Burns informed Mr Portoy that he was there to see that justice was done for all and that concerns regarding the treatment of the accused should be raised with the Department of Home and Health.  Procurator fiscal, Glenda Metcalfe, had earlier told Mr Portoy to put up or shut up, after accusing the defence solicitor of attempting to stall the proceedings by making false accusations against honest, hard working prison staff, attempting to do their duty on behalf of us all in often extreme and dangerous situations.  The procurator fiscal demanded that the case be referred to the High Court, given the seriousness of the crimes committed by the prisoners. The trial continues…

  No Milk Today, as the old Herman’s Hermits’ song went…only in this case, three days.  That’s how long the city’s housewives have had to wait, before putting their feet up and having a cup of tea with a dash of milk.  The strike by Cawdor’s Farmers and the CO-OP’s delivery drivers is over, after the drivers decided to a return to work after improvements to their pay and conditions were agreed with management this morning…”

Chapter Twenty Eight

  Baby Huey wis awready sitting wae a near empty pint ae lager and lime and a full glass ae orange juice in front ae him, when Simon arrived in the lounge ae The Edward Hotel.  Simon walked up tae the bar and ordered up a refill fur Baby, paying fur it before sauntering across tae where he wis sitting.

  “Ye’re late,” Baby reminded him, finishing aff the dregs ae his glass before picking up the fresh pint.  “Cheers.”

  “Aye, well, some ae us hiv tae work fur a living,” Simon retorted, taking a sip ae the tepid, bitter orange juice.  “Ye might’ve goat ice in it.”

  So, that’s how the fat prick’s playing it, Simon thought tae himsel, looking aboot the lounge.  Aw Frankie Fritter hid telt Simon wis that somewan hid phoned up and asked fur a message tae be passed oan tae him.  When Frankie hid asked the caller tae hing oan and he’d get Simon tae come tae the phone, the caller hid hung up.

  “Hauf eleven in the lounge ae The Edward Hotel,” Frankie hid said tae Simon.  “Dae ye know who it wis?”

  “Aye, Ah think so,” Simon hid replied, leaving it at that.

  “So, how’s Tony?”

  “Fine…considering.”

  “Any word ae when they’re getting their lib?”

  So, Baby didnae know everything, or at least, that’s whit he wis making oot, Simon thought, screwing his face up at the bitter taste as he took another sip.

  “Sometime in May next year,” Simon replied, watching fur any tell-tale signs.

  “Aye, Ah widnae hiv thought him and that other two wid’ve qualified fur parole…no wae the record Tony and Snappy hiv between them.”

  Simon wanted tae tell him tae get oan wae it, bit he could see that Baby wis either relishing whit he wis aboot tae divulge or he wis being hesitant.  If it wis the latter, Simon wid need tae go caw-canny.  Big, fat and tough as he thought he wis, Baby knew his bosses widnae think twice ae getting shot ae him permanently if they suspected that he wis hiding in a notorious bar in the toon centre, discussing their business wae wan ae The Mankys’ underlings.  Whitever anywan believed, it wis Tony Gucci who wis the star in the eyes ae Pat Molloy, The Big Man.

  “This is like drinking sour pish, so it is.  Ah’m aff tae get masel another wan.  Dae ye want a refill?” Simon asked him, staunin up.

  “Aye, Ah’ll hiv a wee pint ae lager and lime while ye’re at it.”

  “Here ye go, Baby.  Right, if this is jist a wee social get thegither, Ah’m awready spoken fur,” Simon said smiling, as he sat back doon, the only sounds between them being the clink ae the ice in Simon’s hauf pint ae orange juice and Baby’s heavy breathing as he sat there looking at Simon o’er the tap ae his pint glass.

  “Yer wee secret is oot, so it is,” Baby finally came oot wae, burping and putting doon his pint oan tae the table between them.

  “Is it?”

  “Aye.”

  “And whit secret wid that be then?” Simon asked, his voice steady, a sinking feeling starting up in the pit ae his stomach.

  “The nurse.”

  “Whit nurse?”

  “The nurse that wis oan duty the night The Stalker interviewed that grassing haufwit basturt, Haufwit.”

  “Whit aboot her?” Simon asked, feeling his voice slip and taking a sip ae his orange juice, deliberately screwing his face up this time in an attempt tae mask his unease.

  “Wan-bob knows that the wan that’s deid wisnae the wan that wis in the room oan duty that night.”

  Silence.

  “How?” Simon asked eventually.

  “The same source as before…a pavement pounder fae across in Possil,” Baby replied, shrugging they big slanting shoulders ae his.

  “Dae ye know who he is?”

  “Naw, jist that it originated fae Bumper.”

  “Christ,” Simon cursed, no bothering tae smother his shock and alarm this time.  “Is Bumper getting a cut ae Wan-bob’s back-haunder?”

  “Ah don’t think so.  Ah think he’s jist a pal ae whoever’s haunin o’er the info.  He’s probably jist talking shoap oot ae work, o’er a pint.”

  “Fuck,” Simon cursed under his breath again.

  “It’s maybe no as bad as it sounds…at this stage.”

  Simon looked across at Baby, wondering if Baby wis taking the piss oot ae him.  He wis scared tae ask Baby whit he meant in case he didnae get the joke and ended up punching that fat face fur finding his predicament funny.  He wis glad when Baby obviously realised that his last comment could be construed as totally oot ae order and he came back wae whit he should’ve said in the first place, insteid ae trying tae be clever.

  “They don’t know who the nurse is,” he admitted, taking a gulp ae the lager and wiping the sweat aff ae his brow.  “It’s bloody cooking in here.”

  “Who disnae know?” Simon asked coldly.

  “Aw ae them…Wan-bob, Charlie Hastie, the bizzy informer, Bumper and The Stalker…none ae them hiv a clue who she is.  Aw they know is that the lassie that goat run o’er is no the same lassie that wis in the room that night.”

  “So, how did they fuck up in the first place then?” Simon asked him, knowing fine well that Senga’s flatmate wis jist daeing cover fur the nurse who wis aff sick oan the night in question.

  “They’re no sure.  They’re trying tae find oot as we speak.”

  “Fuck,” Simon cursed again.

  “Wan-bob isnae even sure if she’ll still be working there or no.  Seemingly, nurses dae a fair bit ae chopping and changing in the city, moving aboot aw o’er the place,” Baby said helpfully.

  “Dae you know who the nurse is?” Simon asked, watching the piggy-eyes closely.

  “Who?  Me?  How wid Ah know who the fuck she wis?” Baby stammered, before adding, hesitantly, “Bit Ah could probably make a guess.”

  “It’s no Senga Jackson, if that’s whit ye’re thinking,” Simon eventually said.

  “It’s no?” Baby exclaimed, clearly surprised, disbelief recognisable in that voice ae his.  “Ah like Senga. Always hiv.”

  “Naw, it’s her flatmate.”

  “Oh, right, Ah see.”

  “Naw, ye probably don’t, Baby.  That’s why Ah’m telling ye.  Nowan knows this, bit us and noo you.  It his tae stay that way.  Wan-bob his tae think it’s Senga Jackson if Senga and her flatmate ur tae come through this unscathed.”

  “Ah don’t understaun.”

  “Whit’s Wan-bob daeing tae track doon the nurse?”

  “He’s probably daeing the same as the last time.  He’s trying tae find oot fae the work sheets who wis oan duty during that period.”

  “Right, well, ye’re gonnae be the wan tae let him know that it wis Senga Jackson that wis oan duty that night.”

  “Me?  Ur ye fucking crazy or whit?  Ah’m no even supposed tae know aboot the nurse in the first place.  Christ, Ah’m deid meat if they even get a hint we’re hivving this conversation,” Baby spluttered.  “If it wisnae Senga, why put her life at risk?  Ye’re no trying tae get rid ae her fur some other reason, ur ye?  Fuck, Ah know she sent Johnboy a Dear John, bit is that no a wee bit o’er the tap, even fur the likes ae youse?”

  “Baby, shut yer arse fur a minute and let me think,” Simon growled, pissed aff wae the world.  “Fuck!”

“Look, Ah don’t mind helping youse oot noo and again, bit there’s nae way Ah’ll be able tae pass oan that Senga Jackson wis the nurse in the room that night.  Ma life widnae be worth a shit if they knew Ah wis aware aw whit’s been gaun oan,” Baby declared, making it clear that the baw wis firmly in Simon’s court.