The Wummin: The Glasgow Chronicles 5 (18 page)

Chapter Thirty Seven

  The Stalker and Bumper came across The Gruesome Twosome, in the shape ae the two Possilpark sergeants, Dave McGovern and Shane Priestly, dragging their heels and girning like a pair ae auld hens.  They’d been excluded fae the meeting and hid been telt tae wait in the canteen ae Central in St Andrew’s Square. 

  “So, whit’s the score then, Paddy?  The pair ae us hiv been hinging aboot here, drinking this pish fur the past hour,” McGovern bleated, screwing up his face as he took another slug ae his tea.

  “Pass.”

  “Whit’s that supposed tae mean then?”

  “It means ye know mair than Ah dae.  Nowan telt me the sergeants wur tae be excluded.  Ah’m sure Duggie will keep ye posted oan whit gets said efter he comes oot,” The Stalker replied, wondering whit the hell wis gaun oan.

  Up until the previous Friday…Hogmanay…before Tam Simpson’s face and heid hid goat splattered aw o’er his stairheid landing, the northern part ae the city’s inspectors and sergeants, covering Possil, Milton, Lambhill, Colston, Burmulloch, Springburn, Balornock and Sighthill, hid been meeting up wae their superintendent, Daddy Jackson, who wis responsible fur polising in the north ae the city.  The chief inspectors fae the Murder and Serious Crime and Intelligence squads hid also been in attendance.  They’d been getting thegither tae try and suss oot whit wis gaun oan between the Simpson brothers and The Mankys, a wee group ae up-and-coming thugs fae The Stalker’s ain patch.  The Simpsons…big time gangsters…wur a ruthless band ae desperados who wur based up in Possil.  Behind them, should they ever need it, wis another maniac called Blaster Mackay, who, oan the surface, ran a busy scrap business up in Lambhill, bit who wis in fact, a murderous thug who widnae pish oan ye if ye wur oan fire.  In amongst the mix somewhere, wis a young crew called The Mankys, led by Tony Gucci, who wis only eighteen, and who originally hailed fae the Toonheid in the city centre.  Gucci wis a rising young ned, who’d gathered roond him a smart manky crowd ae thieving toe-rags who wur absolutely ruthless if anywan crossed them and who, The Stalker believed, wur the wans who’d actually done the damage oan Tam Simpson’s handsome face.  Fae whit he could make oot, The Mankys hid the backing ae The Big Man, Pat Molloy, millionaire gangster, reputedly living the high life in Spain, and who made The Simpsons and Blaster Mackay look like choir boys in comparison.  The Stalker hid never denied that the picture oan the ground wis extremely complicated because ae the ducking and diving ae the key players involved.  Getting detailed intelligence oan who wis daeing whit tae who, where and when, hid been difficult.  The confused picture oan the ground leading up tae Tam Simpson’s murder, hid meant that, despite his best efforts tae raise his suspicions and concerns, The Stalker hid been the only wan that hid actually believed that Gucci’s manky-arsed crowd wur the key players in whit wis gaun oan.  Aw the rest ae the local inspectors and the high heid yins above them, jist hidnae been able tae accept that a wee shitey-arsed bunch ae misfits like The Mankys wid be allowed tae become players by the big boys involved in organised crime in the city.  Oan tap ae aw this, The Stalker could see why maist ae the investigation’s focus, resources and energies wur being targeted at finding Tam Simpson’s younger brother, Toby, and his right haun lieutenant, Bootsy Henderson, who’d baith disappeared oan the same day as the auldest Simpson brother hid been dispatched.  Fae a bizzy point ae view, it made total sense, seeing as Toby hid been identified as the wan that hid inflicted the maist serious damage oan young Joe McManus, a brain damaged teenager, who’d died ae his injuries efter being seriously assaulted and stabbed tae death by Toby Simpson, Frisky Frank McKenna and Jo Jo Robson.  It meant that, wance apprehended, Toby wid be kept in custody, thus allowing investigators access tae him, day or night, tae try and find oot whit hid been gaun oan behind the scenes leading up tae the murder ae his aulder brother.  Another twist in the story that hid clouded the water, hid been the sudden disappearance ae Blaster Mackay oan that Friday as well.  The Stalker knew that it hid been established that Blaster hid heided oot tae a farm oan the other side ae Alexandria, near Dumbarton, in the early hours ae Hogmanay, tae pick up a load ae cut-price chickens.  Blaster’s lorry hid been found, abandoned, oan Great Western Road oot near Anniesland during the morning rush-hour, being pillaged by hauf the walking deid fae Yoker, who wur aw seen tae be stuffing the clucking, distressed birds, intae anything the local wummin and weans could get their hauns oan.  The Stalker hid also picked up oan the grapevine that the bosses doon in Central believed that Blaster wis noo deid, bit like Tam Simpson, they wurnae too sure ae the motive behind his untimely demise.  The Stalker hid been questioned as tae whether he’d picked up any chatter between The Simpsons and Blaster prior tae Blaster’s disappearing act, which he hidnae.  The fact that he’d been excluded fae the overall investigation, despite him being the wan tae initially raise his concerns aboot trouble between Springburn and Possil, really rankled.  Nothing really seemed quite right, if ye took a step back fae the situation.  Joe McManus hid run aboot wae Tony Gucci since he wis a snapper, up until McManus hid been seriously assaulted and left wae permanent brain damage in the late summer ae 1970.  A year efter parting company fae the rest ae The Mankys due tae his permanent injuries, eighteen year auld Joe McManus wis found stabbed tae death oan the foyer steps ae the Princes Bingo Hall oan Gourlay Street.  Two Simpson gangsters, Frisky Frank McKenna and Jo Jo Robson, wur awready oan remand up in the Bar-L, charged wae McManus’s murder.  A witness, accompanied by a brief, hid suddenly and conveniently turned up at the cop shoap across in Possil, at aboot the exact time as Tam Simpson and the social work floozy that he’d been perching oan, hid baith been blasted by a booby trap contraption efter tripping it when Simpson opened his front door and stepped inside.  The witness hid declared that he’d clocked Toby Simpson, Tam’s psycho wee brother, stab Joe McManus twice wae a bayonet, oan the steps ae The Princes Bingo Hall.  This hid corroborated whit an auld wummin hid awready stated efter she’d watched whit wis happened through the bingo hall foyer’s glass panelled doors.  While the stabbing wis taking place, the other two, who wur noo oan remand, hid ladled intae the boy wae their feet and hauns while he wis lying oan the ground wae the blood pishing oot ae him.  The Stalker hid been talking tae his Possil inspector counterpart, Duggie Dougan, who’d telt him that the investigation team wur aw o’er the place and wur pinning their hopes oan getting their hauns oan Toby, tae shed some light oan whit the fuck hid been gaun oan.  The other unexplained mystery, at least tae The Stalker, wis why Duggie hid decided tae let The Gruesome Twosome arrest Toby’s lieutenants first that morning, rather than the bigger fish, Toby.  According tae Duggie, he wis still interviewing the key witness tae the McManus murder, Harper Harris, a two-bit dime, snivelling cat burglar.  Duggie claimed that he’d been wanting tae be in oan the arrest ae Toby himsel. It wis aw highly suspect, and The Stalker wondered if Duggie wis oan the take and hid somehow managed tae get word tae Toby tae disappear before his front door hid been kicked in a hauf an hour efter Jo Jo Robson and Frisky Frank McKenna hid been arrested.  The Stalker still wisnae convinced aboot the murder squads tactics and they knew it.  When he’d raised his suspicions aboot Duggie, wan ae the basturts must’ve telt him and noo nowan wis speaking tae him.  In the efternoon, oan the day ae the murder, The Stalker hid arrested Tony Gucci and wan ae his cronies, Pat McCabe, oan suspicion ae Tam Simpson's murder, bit the investigating team hidnae even come across tae Springburn tae question them.  Before The Stalker hid cottoned oan tae the fact that the murder investigating team wurnae interested in the Springburn connection, Gucci’s brief hid turned up and hid sprung Gucci and his pal fae the cells where The Stalker hid been haudin them.  No only that, bit Gucci’s brief, Graham Portoy, who’d accompanied Harper Harris tae the cop shoap in Possil tae inform everywan that he’d saw McManus being murdered, hid started harassment and false imprisonment proceedings against The Stalker.  The Stalker hid read somewhere in wan ae the American True Detective
magazines, that the first forty eight hours efter a murder his been committed is the maist crucial time.  If ye cannae take advantage ae this time tae maximise yer evidence during that short windae, then the trail starts tae go cauld pretty quickly.  Earlier in the efternoon, oan the day ae Tam’s killing, The Stalker hid been so frustrated at the lack ae interest shown in Tony Gucci’s possible association in the murder that he’d bitten the bullet and nipped doon tae try and speak tae Jack Tipple, the city’s Assistant Chief Constable.  By a stroke ae luck, he’d caught him ootside in the street, heiding fur a bite tae eat.  The Stalker hid sat in Tipple’s car and explained why he thought it wid be madness tae exclude Tony Gucci’s manky mob fae the start ae the investigation.  Tipple hidnae said very much, apart fae asking a few questions here and there.  At the end ae The Stalker's spiel, the assistant hid telt him tae go back tae the cop shoap in Springburn and no say a word tae anywan aboot their conversation.  He’d telt The Stalker, in no uncertain terms, that he wisnae willing tae undermine the investigating officers at this early stage ae the enquiry, bit that he wid take oan board whit The Stalker hid telt him.  Later oan that efternoon, The Stalker hid received a telephone call fae Daddy Jackson, who’d informed him that he wis being promoted tae become the new inspector fur Springburn.  The Stalker’s auld inspector, Chic Thompson, hid been informed, withoot any explanation, tae clear his desk immediately and hid been moved oot ae Springburn that same day, across tae a mair upmarket and less crime-riddled part ae the city.  Since his promotion, The Stalker hidnae seen or spoken tae any ae the other inspectors, despite informing everywan that he hid Tony Gucci and Pat McCabe in custody fur their involvement in Tam Simpson’s murder.  The basturts wur obviously black-balling him.  He hesitated at the boardroom door.  He could jist hear the murmurings ae voices oan the other side.  He wis well pissed aff, hivving found oot fae The Gruesome Twosome and wee Peggy McAvoy, Daddy Jackson’s wee sexy blond secretary, that those inside hid awready been in attendance fur the best part ae an hour.  He took a deep breath, turned the haundle and pushed open the door before stepping intae the lion’s den.

Chapter Thirty Eight

  Helen folded back the newspaper and then folded it in hauf again, making it mair manageable tae read.  She picked up her fag packet and popped two intae her gub and flicked the wheel oan the lighter wae her thumb.  Efter disappearing in a cloud ae smoke as she furiously puffed oan baith fags, she took wan fae between her lips and haunded it o’er tae Betty.

  “Right, ur ye ready then?” she wheezed, swishing the smoke away wae a sweep ae her haun.

  “Fire away, doll,” Betty said, taking a deep puff.

  “The announcement by veteran political fixer, JP Donnelly, that he wis throwing his hat intae the ring efter the sad death ae Dick Mulholland, the sitting cooncillor fur the Keppochhill ward in Springburn, came as a shock and a surprise tae the other candidates in the ward who hiv awready announced their candidacy.  At his baronial pile in Lenzie, Colonel Spicer Barr-Owen, the Tory candidate fur the ward, spoke fur many ae the wannabe candidates by stating that if Mr Donnelly really believed in democracy, he wid staun back and gie the ordinary man in the street a chance ae getting elected fur a change.  Sir Bob Barking, the Liberal candidate, agreed wae these sentiments and spoke ae his disappointment that Mr Donnelly obviously didnae hiv that much gaun oan in his life if he hid tae come oot ae retirement tae find something tae dae wae himsel.  ‘It won’t put the Liberals aff,’ Sir Bob said fae his Bishopbriggs Toonhoose.  ‘We’re confident we will dae well.  We nearly took the seat fur The Liberals in 1909 and 1913.  If we kin be assured ae a fair share ae the press coverage, then Ah’m sure we kin gie JP Donnelly a run fur his money.  Oor local activists ur preparing fur battle as Ah speak.’” Helen read oot, looking across at Betty tae see if she wis still wae her.

  “Whit’s a Toonhoose when it’s at hame then?” Betty asked.

  “Ah’m buggered if Ah know...a hoose in the toon somewhere probably.  Wan thing’s fur sure...it certainly won’t be a cramped and damp auld tenement building.”

  “Aye, that sounds jist aboot right, so it dis.  Right, hen, carry oan...whit else is it saying?”

  “At an official launch in The Journeyman’s Club in Springburn, in front ae an estimated hunner and seventy supporters...”

  “How many?” Betty interrupted, looking puzzled.

  “...in front ae an estimated hunner and seventy supporters, JP Donnelly rallied those in attendance by urging them tae get oot there and show the good people ae Springburn that they’re no furgoatten aboot and that when he wis back entrenched in George’s Square, they’d soon aw be reaping the benefits ae voting fur him.”

  “Ah thought that wee commie wan, Charlie whit’s his name, said that he reckoned there wis only aboot fifty or sixty at JP’s launch?”

  “He did.”

  “So, where the hell did a hunner and seventy come fae?”

  “Well, somewan’s telling porkies, so they ur.  Ah cannae see Charlie getting it wrang by o’er a hunner, kin you?” 

  “Surely the reporter, whit’s his name?”

  “Bradley McLeod.”

  “...Bradley McLeod...widnae get it wrang by that amount unless he wis a lying fork-tongued snake.  Ah mean, surely tae God, The Glesga Echo widnae employ some stupid bampot that couldnae coont, wid they?”

  “Well, it says here that he’s The Echo’s main political reporter.  Ah’m no sure coonting wid be that essential fur his job, seeing as the political pundits oan the telly always seem tae get it wrang.  Look at the last General Election.  Labour wur supposed tae walk it, bit Heath ended up becoming the prime minister.  Every single wan ae them goat their sums wrang, so they did.  Christ, imagine if the weans in the schools used the same calculations as them in their exams?  We’d aw end up wae a nation ae blithering idiots, so we wid.”

  “Aye, and ye never hear ae them coming back oan the telly apologising fur getting it wrang or explaining how they couldnae coont tae save themsels.”

  “And then there’s the occasions when they’ve reported oan a warrant sale efter wan ae us hiv goat lifted.  They usually only say that there wis only wan or two demonstrating at the closemooth when there’s been aboot a dozen ae us.”

  “Helen, we’ll need tae watch that wan, so we will.”

  “Whit wan?”

  “That auld commie wan…whit an embarrassment.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ah think he’s a wee bit touched, if ye know whit Ah mean,” Betty replied, rolling her eyes and tapping the side ae her temple wae that nicotine-stained finger ae hers. “Hiv ye heard the dribble he speaks?  Sharon Campbell says she clocked him a few weeks ago, up oan Springburn Road, parading up and doon ootside the train station wae a sandwich board strapped o’er his shoulders, pished as a fart.”

  “Oh?”

  “Oan the front ae it, it said ‘Free Ra People,’ so it did.”

  “And the back?”

 
“‘Line The Rich Up.’”

  “Is that it?”

  “That’s it,” Betty replied, as a stream ae blue smoke fae they pouting lips ae hers exploded aff ae the polythene sheet hinging aff ae Helen’s kitchen ceiling.  “Sharon says she spent days and sleepless nights trying tae figure oot whit the hell he wis oan aboot until she couldnae cope anymair and nipped doon tae The Journeyman’s Club and confronted him.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.  She says he started harping oan aboot whit him and they two comrades ae his wur gonnae dae tae everywan, except the good wans, come the revolution.”

  “So, Ah take it she never found oot whit he wis selling then?” Helen asked, smiling and taking a puff ae her fag.

  “No really.  By the time she caught up wae him, he wis minging, hinging aff the bar and still wearing the two strips ae Elastoplast she’d stuck oan his heid a few days earlier when he’d toppled o’er.  She said that she hid tae come tae his rescue because he’d nearly hung himsel, trying tae pick up his box ae matches efter he drapped it oan the pavement.  The daft auld bampot couldnae be arsed lifting the  board o’er his heid like he should’ve, and tried tae lean o’er and pick it up while still wearing his boards...well, even a dafty wid know that that wis jist asking fur trouble, so it wis,”

  “Aw, Ah’ve goat a lot ae time fur auld Charlie, so Ah hiv.  Him and they pals ae his wur oot in Spain, back in the thirties, wae an auld auntie ae mine.  His heart’s in the right place...as long as ye don’t start talking politics wae him, that is.”

  “Is that whit he wis advertising…politics, Ah mean?”

  “Aye,” Helen laughed.  “And don’t furget, it wis The Three Comrades that invested in ma campaign fund.  They cannae be aw that bad.  Mad, bit certainly no bad.”

  “So, is there any mention ae us in the paper then?”

  “Naw.  Yer pal, Charlie, said he’d be haunin in ma form the day, doon at The Corporation in George’s Square…in person…as he disnae trust the post.  The day’s the deidline fur the candidates.  Ah widnae haud yer breath aboot press coverage though.  Argumentative Dave fae up in Cowlairs Road, who’s hisnae worked since he left school, is staunin as the ‘Minimum Wage Fur a Fair Day’s Work Fur Everywan’ candidate.  He made his announcement oan the same day as JP and wis parading up and doon ootside The Journeyman’s Club while JP’s meeting wis gaun oan, bit he hisnae goat a mention in the paper either.  Naw, unless we go intae the newspaper printing business, Argumentative Dave his goat a better chance ae seeing his name in print than Ah ever will.”

  “Talking ae which...where hiv ye goat tae oan whit ye’re staunin fur, hen?”

  “Well, Susan Flaw his gied me aw the bumph that the main parties stood oan in the last Corporation elections, during the general election in 1970.  Ah’ve been trying tae sift through it tae get a haundle oan where they’re aw coming fae.  It disnae seem tae make sense tae me...bit then again, it’s probably jist me and nothing tae dae wae whit’s oan their election pamphlets.”

  “How dae ye mean?” Betty asked, haunin Helen a lit fag.

  “Take Dick Mulholland’s leaflet fae the wan he won.  Apart fae ‘Ah know you and you know me,' and some shite aboot how the People’s Labour Party wis gonnae dae aw these good things fur everywan in Scotland, including paying everywan beezer wages, there wis naff aw aboot Springburn.  In fact, apart fae ‘ye aw know me, wink, wink,’ the stuff in his leaflet hid been lifted fae the general election leaflet.”

  “Whit? Is that bad like?”

  “It’s the same wae the other parties.  Vote fur us and we’ll cook yer breakfast in bed fur ye...jist as long as ye don’t read the small print and ask fur yer vote back the day efter the election when nothing changes.”

  “Ah’m sorry, Helen, bit ye’ve lost me.  Ah hivnae goat a bloody clue whit ye’re babbling oan aboot.  Nae wonder Ah’ve never voted.  Ye’re starting tae sound like them awready, so ye ur.”

  “Ah wis talking tae auld Patsy Morrison at the shoaps yesterday and Ah asked her whit wid make her get up aff her arse and go oot and vote.  Dae ye know whit she said?”

  “Ah kin imagine.”

  “She said she’d love an inside toilet in the hoose so she didnae hiv tae pish in a pot at the side ae her bed every night.  She said that although her and auld Mick hiv been married fur o’er fifty five years, she still feels ashamed ae hivving tae dae that in front ae him every night, even though the lights ur oot.  She said that she’s never goat o’er that first time efter they goat married when he telt her she sounded like a pit pony,” Helen said, as her and Betty went intae spasms ae giggles.

  “Aw, Helen, is that no terrible, us laughing?” Betty asked, as the pair ae them started cackling like a pair ae auld geese again.

  “Aye, Ah know.  Auld Geraldine Baker and Bess McKay wur staunin there when Patsy came oot wae that wan, face as straight as a die.  Ah thought the four ae us wur gonnae wet oor knickers in the queue, there and then,” Helen said, laughing.

  “Bit, auld Patsy’s right.  Her and Mick must’ve paid fur that hoose ten times o’er by noo, yet they’re still hivving tae use an ootside toilet.”

  “Fifty five years they’ve been living in that single end.  Patsy said aw her five weans wur born and brought up in that hoose.  Y’know, they three auld wans that Ah wis speaking tae, still hiv ootside toilets at their age.  This is supposed tae be 1972, so it is,” Helen mused.

  “So, is that it then?”

  “Whit?”

  “Ye’re gonnae campaign fur ootside cludgies tae be shut doon?”

  “Whit Ah’m gonnae dae is talk tae people doon oan the street and in the shoaps...find oot whit pisses them aff aboot The Corporation and then, use whit they say as ma election manifesto.  And Ah’m no jist talking aboot the auld yins either.  Ah’ve awready spoken wae a bunch ae wummin up at The NAB when Ah wis up there wae Issie yesterday, when she wis signing aff young Joe’s funeral arrangements.”

  “So, whit dae ye need tae talk tae people fur?  Ye awready know that The NAB and The Corporation treat people like cattle when anywan is forced tae turn up and ask fur a wee haun fae them.”

  “Because when Ah highlight and start tae publicly challenge aw the crap that’s dished oot tae people, Ah want tae be able tae honestly quote back people’s feelings and experiences and no jist ma ain.”

  “And ye think that’ll get ye elected, dae ye?  Dae ye honestly believe anywan gies a toss aboot stuff like that?” Betty asked, reaching fur Helen’s fag packet.

  “Probably no, bit that’s whit’s important tae a lot ae people aboot here, so it is.”

  “Like who?”

  “People like us who don’t vote because everywan knows that the things that matter tae them won’t be listened tae or be changed fur the better as a result ae them voting.”

  “Hmm, Ah’m no sure aboot that wan.”

  “Whit wan?”

  “The reasons why people like us don’t vote.  Personally, Ah think it’s because we cannae be arsed and we don’t gie a monkey’s aboot politics…that’s why.”

  “Betty, ye’ve jist confirmed whit Ah’ve been saying, so ye hiv.  Fae whit Ah kin understaun, ye’re supposed tae vote fur the wan who says whit ye want tae hear, and who actually delivers oan his promises.  Where politics draps back oan its fat lying arse is that maist politicians ur lying toads and they’ll jist say anything tae get elected.”

  “Aye, and?”

  “And whit?”

  “So, whit’s so special aboot getting elected then?”

  “There’s a big building doon in George’s Square, where anywan wae hauf a brain could go places...become somewan...Christ, maybe even dae something tae help somewan occasionally,” Helen retorted, looking across at Betty and bursting oot laughing.

  “Hoi, settle doon, hen.  It’s The Corporation we’re talking aboot here.”

  “Aye, Ah know, bit kin ye imagine?”

  “Whit?”

  “Somewan like me, being let loose in a place like that.”