Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (5 page)

Chapter Six

  Liam Thompson, wan ae the local uniformed sergeants who covered the Toonheid district, hid jist arrived tae start the back shift at two o’clock.  He could be daeing withoot this, he thought tae himsel, as he tried tae psych himsel up.  Anytime he’d been called up the stairs, it hid meant trouble.  Himsel and his PC, Chris Cross, known by aw and sundry as Crisscross due tae the worse pair ae skelly-eyes oan this side ae the Clyde, hid been at war o’er the summer wae a wee bunch ae toe-rags who’d been robbing and stealing everything that wisnae screwed doon.  While they hidnae been able tae lock the wee toe-rags up oan a permanent basis, they’d scored some successes. Due tae the concerted pressure that The Sarge and his counterpart, Big Jim Stewart and his PC, Jinty Jobson, hid been putting oan them, the manky wee shitehooses hid been travelling ootside ae the Toonheid, causing grief in other divisions.  This wis fine, as far as the Toonheid pavement pounders wur concerned, bit hid caused a wee bit ae a rumpus wae the inspectors in the North and West ae the city, who wur a bunch ae mad Irish basturts who widnae pish oan ye if ye wur oan fire.  Liam hid arrived at Central wae a spring in his step.  It wis the start ae a new week.  There wid be plenty ae opportunities tae get wan o’er oan they manky wee fleas.  Hopefully this wid be the week they’d snuff them oot, wance and fur aw.  Unfortunately, his feeling ae wellbeing hid evaporated the second he’d stepped through the double doors ae Central.

  “Colin wants tae see ye straight away…as soon as ye’ve arrived,” the desk sergeant hid telt him.

  “Aye, okay.   Ah’ll jist go and get changed first.”

  “Naw, Ah don’t think so.  He says as soon as ye walk through that door, ye’ve tae go straight up.”

  “Anything the matter?” The Sarge hid asked, wondering whit the fuck he wis getting the blame fur noo.

  “Ah don’t think so,” the desk sergeant hid replied, picking up wan ae the weekend incident sheets fae the pile oan the coonter.  “There wis a slashing ootside The Royal Bar oan Parly Road last night, wan ae that Shamrock mob goat stabbed in the lung at the tap end ae the High Street when some wee neds screeched tae a halt in a stolen car at the traffic lights and jumped him, a ten year auld boy by the name ae Campbell droont up oan the canal yesterday efter him and his mates made rafts oot ae some oil drums, a couple ae hooses goat tanned and their gas meters robbed and a dookit went up in smoke wae a wee toe-rag in it.  Nothing that wid constitute a visit up the stairs tae the Gods.”

  “Aye, okay, Ah’ll heid up the noo.  If Big Jim, Jinty or Crisscross comes in, tell them where Ah am.”

  He heard her before he saw her.  Fingers gaun like a Gatling Gun across the keys ae her typewriter.  He still wisnae sure if she remembered his name, despite her calling him Liam wance recently.  Peggy McAvoy, wee blonde bombshell, lover ae forensic knob-heids…or so he’d heard…wis sitting, typing away, oblivious tae the swordsman approaching her desk.  He’d nearly made an arse ae himsel a few months earlier by asking her oot wan night when he thought he wis up fur promotion tae the rank ae inspector.  He felt sick tae the stomach every time he thought aboot that time.  Insteid ae getting a well-deserved promotion, he’d goat a bollicking fae they ranting, fuck-pig, tottie-heided, Irish arse bandits.  They’d informed him that they wee manky shitehooses, under the leadership ae a wee Atalian by the name ae Tony Gucci, hid been tanning electrical shoap windaes across the city tae steal they new-fangled tranny radios, using a haungun.  He hidnae believed a word ae it and hid said so at the time.  When a haungun wis eventually haunded in by a person unknown, efter he’d put the word oot oan the street up in the Toonheid, he’d thought that at last, his promotion ticket hid arrived.  The Irish Brigade hid put paid tae that fantasy efter discovering that the wee toe-rags wurnae using a gun tae tan the shoap windaes efter aw.  It wis then that he’d realised that his promotion prospects hid done a runner, alang wae his date wae the wee blond thing that wis making aw the racket wae they lovely slim fingers ae hers.

  “Ah’m here tae see Colin, ma inspector.  Is he in his office, Peggy?”

  “Aye, jist go in, he’s expecting ye,” the sexy wee hussy purred at him, no even bothering tae look up fae the chattering keys.

  “Come in, Liam.  Take a seat,” Colin motioned wae his haun tae the solitary chair in front ae his desk.

  Also sitting behind Colin’s desk, wis Sean Smith, the chief inspector, his chair balancing oan two legs, its back against the wall, tae Colin’s left.

  The Sarge wondered whit the fuck The Chief wis daeing there and felt his sphincter expanding and contracting like that auld Hohner accordion his granny used tae strangle fuck oot ae.

  “Awright, sir?” he said tae The Chief, his paranoia ricocheting aw o’er the inside ae his heid at no getting an acknowledgement ae his presence, let alone a response tae his welcome. “Whit kin Ah dae ye fur, Colin?” he asked, taking a quick glance in the mirror that wis oan the wall between The Chief and Colin, and patting doon a wee stray tuft ae hair that wis sticking oot oan the side ae his napper.

  “Liam, hiv ye heard aboot whit happened up in the Toonheid last night?”

  “It depends.”

  “Oan whit?”

  “Oan whit it is ye’re actually asking me.  Ah’ve heard aboot a lot ae things.  There’s nothing much goes by me up there nooadays.  Wis there anything in particular?”

  “Aye, it’s aboot that ten year auld that died.”

  “Oh, that?  Aye, it wis terrible.  Whit a waste, eh?”

  “Anything else?”

  “Ah wis only jist talking tae him and his pals yesterday.  Ah telt them that wan ae these days, wan ae them wis gonnae end up pan-breid, well before their time, if they didnae watch oot.”

  “Ye whit?  Ye didnae say that tae him in front ae his pals, did ye?” The Chief demanded, eyes widening in panic, as the front two legs ae his chair thudded oan tae the lino-covered flair.

  “Too bloody true, Ah did.  Colin knows me well enough.  Ah might be brutal, bit Ah’m brutally honest.”

  “Did ye say anything else?”

  “Well, Ah warned they wee toe-rags that their days wur numbered unless they jacked in the antics that they wur up tae.  Gied me a bit ae lip back, bit that’s whit ye’d expect fae they cheeky wee fleas.”

  “So, who wis wae ye when ye spoke tae them?  Ah hope ye hid somewan tae back ye up when ye deny hivving said that, if ye’re ever called up as a witness,” Colin retorted, gieing The Chief a quick glance.

  “Crisscross wis there. He’d back me up.”

  “Right, well, Ah’ve jist come fae a meeting ae the division and we’re worried.  That’s why The Chief wants tae sit in oan this wee chat.”

  “Worried aboot whit?”

  “Aboot the circumstances surrounding the death ae this ten year auld.”

  “Colin, there’s nae way anywan kin attach foul play tae this, no matter whit they come up wae.”

  “Well, we’ve been reliably informed that a journalist fae The Glesga Echo his been put up tae think that the polis wur somehow involved and that there’s gonnae be a bit ae snooping aboot gaun oan o’er the next wee while.”

  “Ur ye bloody jesting me or whit?” The Sarge scoffed, looking fae Colin tae The Chief and back again.

  “Noo, why the hell wid Ah dae something like that, Liam?” Colin barked, clearly getting irritated at the attitude sitting across fae him.

  “Ah cannae bloody believe this.  So, whit the hell’s forensics saying aboot it then?” The Sarge retorted.

  “That it wis definitely suspicious…probably deliberate.”

  “How the fuck dae they work that wan oot?”

  “They’re saying that it wis petrol that started it and that there wisnae any signs ae a petrol can in amongst the ashes or anything else resembling a container that wid’ve hid petrol in it.”

  “In a canal?”

  “Whit?” baith The Inspector and The Chief asked thegither, looking at each other confused.

  “How the fuck dae they daft basturts in forensics connect petrol wae a drooning up in the canal?”

  “Canal?  It wis a fire in a bloody cabin dookit, Liam, ya daft twat, ye!”

  “Right, hing oan…hing oan a second.  Whit the hell ur ye oan aboot, Colin?”

  “The dookit at the tap ae Parly Road?  The cabin behind the billboards beside Macbrayne’s bus depot, jist up fae Gizzi’s?  The wan that wis burned doon last night.  They’ve found a body ae some young snapper and his dug in it.  They reckon it’s wan ae yer wee manky mob.”

  “Whit?”

  “Aye, we think it’s Samuel Kelly.  Ye know, the wan they call Skull?”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Colin, Ah thought ye wur talking aboot the wee Proddy boy Campbell who droont up at the Nolly, playing wae his mates oan the homemade raft they’d made oot ae oil drums.  It wis him and his mates we wur talking tae yesterday, warning them aboot messing aboot oan the water.”

  “So, ye never spoke tae the boy they call Skull then?” 

  “Ah’d be so lucky.  We cannae get a haud ae any ae that wee manky crew, never mind hiv a chat wae them.”

  “Ur ye sure noo?  Ye never spoke tae any ae them?” The Chief demanded, relief plastered aw o’er that face ae his.

  “Ah’m sure Ah’m sure.”

  “Well, he’s pan breid,” Colin said grimly.

  “Well, at least we won’t hiv tae bother wae him any mair then, will we?  Wan doon, three tae go, eh?”

  “Liam, Ah don’t think ye understaun where we’re coming fae here.”

  “How dae ye mean?”

  “There’s a madman ae a reporter snooping aboot, trying tae establish a link between that boy being toasted and us hivving something tae dae wae it.”

  “Who?  No that Pat Roller prick?”

  “Liam, there’s nae such a person as Pat Roller, ya eejit, ye,” The Inspector scoffed.

  “There bloody-well is.  Ah read his column every week,” The Sarge retorted as the two braids rolled their eyes heavenwards.

  “Liam, it’s that scurrying wee rodent they call The Rat…a dirty wee snivelling, corrupt, slimy
basturt, that’s up tae his eyes in aw sorts ae underhaun, crooked stuff,” Colin said, exasperated.

  “Colin, believe you me, there’s nae way a wee poxy reporter will come up wae anything that could connect me or any ae us up in the Toonheid wae anything tae dae wae any fire…especially that fire.  If ye ask me, the community will be glad tae get rid ae that thieving wee walking crime statistic, so they will.  It wis that wee mob that robbed poor Fat Sally Sally and her Highland chookter Christian pals oot ae aw the money they’d been collecting fur the hungry wee weans in Africa.”

  “Liam, fur Christ sake…wid ye jist listen tae that arse ae yers speaking?  We’ve heard oan good authority that The Rat is looking tae heidline a story that rogue polis poured petrol intae that dookit and burned a ten year auld and his pet dug tae death, whether it’s true or no.  If there’s even a whiff ae petrol fumes aff ae us, we’re aw goosed.  Noo, listen up…the bosses upstairs say that this could get bad.  It could bring the ceiling doon oan tap ae us and a lot ae other people.  We need tae get oor hauns oan the rest ae they wee manky pals ae his before this reporter dis or we’d be as well tae jist go and hing up oor hats and heid hame.”

  “Seriously?”

  “How the hell did he get tae be a sergeant?” muttered The Chief tae nowan in particular.

  “Right, Liam, listen…and listen up good.  We need yer boys tae lift this wee manky-arsed crew pronto.  We’ve been up at their doors and they’re no there…at least that’s whit the maws ur claiming.  So, don’t fuck aboot noo.  Get a haud ae them tae we see whit the hell’s gaun oan.  Hiv Ah made masel clear?  This is oor number wan priority the day.”

  “Nae bother, Colin.”

  “And keep it low profile.  Don’t fuck up noo.  Ah don’t want tae come face-tae-face wae a greeting maw oan the front page ae The Glesga Echo in the morning, saying that wan ae the local polis done in her manky-arsed wee angel,” growled The Chief.

  “Greeting maws?  Well, Ah widnae haud yer breath there, sir.  That bunch ae hairys ur furever bloody greeting…especially that Taylor bitch, up there in Montrose Street.”

  “Sammy Elliot, The Rat, takes a pride in being a right shite-hoose.  He’d dig up his ain granny if it wid get him a few lines in the paper,” Colin said, pressing upon The Sarge the importance ae nipping this situation in the bud.

  “Don’t ye worry, sir…or you, Colin…we’ll hiv they wee ragged-arsed toe-rags in protective custody by tea-time, so we will.”

Chapter Seven

  “Hellorerr, boys.  We need tae hiv a wee chat…somewhere a lot less public.  How aboot in the back seat ae ma Jag?” Shaun Murphy growled, using that thumb ae his tae point back o’er his shoulders.

  “Whit aboot, Shaun?” Tony asked, voice quivering slightly.

  “Ah think that’s obvious.”

  “We’re no gaun anywhere wae youse.”

  “Tony, don’t be like that noo.  We’re no gonnae hurt ye.”

  “If ye want tae talk, talk here.  There’s three ae us.  Ye’ll need tae haud us doon and drag us tae that fucking car, screaming and shouting.  Ah don’t know if that wid be a good idea wae aw they bizzies jist alang the street.”

  Nowan moved or said a word.  Johnboy could see Shaun’s brain whirring roond behind they evil eyes ae his.

  “Ah don’t know whit ye think we’re efter.  We’re no gonnae hurt youse, honest.”

  “Shaun, we don’t want any trouble.  We’ve done fuck aw.  We’re jist trying tae find oot whit’s happened tae oor cabin and tae Skull.”

  “Well, it hid nothing tae dae wae us,” Shaun claimed, clocking the disbelief oan the coupons ae The Mankys. “Look, the bizzies ur gonnae be crawling aw o’er the fucking place, so they ur.  Ah don’t know whit the fuck youse hiv been up tae, bit we don’t want tae be involved.  Ah’ve telt ye, the fire in the cabin hid fuck aw tae dae wae us.”

  “We paid ye the cash in good faith yesterday.  Then the cabin gets burnt doon the same night?”

  “We only heard this morning.  We also heard that that wee pal ae yours wis kipping in the place when it went up.”

  “So, he didnae manage tae get oot then?” Johnboy blurted oot, speaking fur the first time.

  “We don’t think so.  Ah spoke tae wan ae the firemen that Ah know and he telt me that they’d come across a body that looked like a young boy.  He also said there wis a deid dug in there as well.  The only thing that hidnae been toasted wis a Celtic tammy that they found.”

  Nowan spoke fur a long hauf minute efter Shaun said that.  Thirty seconds disnae sound long, bit fur the boys who wur staunin in a closemooth, wae nae escape route, wae the people they believed hid done away wae their pal, it wis a lifetime.  They jist stared at Shaun.  Johnboy could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

  “We’ve no done a fucking thing, Shaun,” Tony repeated, face as white as a sheet.

  “Ah’m no saying ye hiv, bit we’ve goat a wee problem here that might be connected.”

  “Like whit?”

  “Some eejit or eejits tanned oor loft.”

  “Well, it wisnae us.”

  “Ah’m no saying it wis youse.  We’ve goat a good enough idea ae who done it and we’re working oan that.  Bit we hid fuck aw tae dae wae burning doon that cabin.”

  “So who did then?”

  “It’s early days, bit we think they’re connected.  When the loft goat tanned, we assumed it wis youse, bit we found a connection tae some other sticky-fingered basturts.”

  “Like who?”

  “We’re dealing wae that.”

  “Ye jist told us there’s a connection.”

  “Aye, well, we think there’s a set-up gaun oan here.  First, oor loft is tanned and we lose maist ae oor doos and then the cabin gets burned doon.  If we know we didnae dae the cabin and youse know ye didnae tan the loft, then whit dis that mean?  We think there’s a set-up being played oot here and the basturts who did baith jobs ur using this as a smokescreen tae stay oot ae the way.”

  “So, whit dae ye want fae us?”

  “The only issue we hiv is when the bizzies speak tae youse aboot ownership ae the cabin.”

  “Whit dae ye mean?”

  “As far as we’re concerned, we know youse ur aw keen oan fleeing the doos.  The cabin wis surplus tae oor requirements and rather than sell it aff tae oor competitors, we decided tae gie it tae youse as a freebie, tae get youse started.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s whit youse hiv tae stick tae, whitever else ye hear.  If it gets oot that youse wur tanning places tae get the money tae us fur the dookit, then it means we’re involved.”

  “Bit we gied ye cash.  Whit’s that tae dae wae youse?” Joe asked, butting in.

  “Ye supplied the trannys…remember?” Danny said fae behind them.

  “So?”

  “So, they think ye used a haungun tae tan in the shoap windaes before haunin them o’er tae us.  That puts us in an awkward situation, given that we’ve goat oor ain problems wae the bizzies.”

  “We never used a haungun.”

  “Well, whitever.  The main thing is, there needs tae be clear water between youse and us oan aw this.  In the meantime, we’re gonnae track doon who the fuck ransacked oor loft and fucked aff wae aw oor good doos.”

  “So, youse gied us the loft fur free?”

  “Aye.”

  “Fine wae us,” Tony said, shrugging, no taking his eyes aff the scar-faced bear in front ae him.

  “Right, let’s go,” Shaun said suddenly, nodding tae his brothers, who brushed past them, heiding fur the front ae the closemooth.  “By the way, Ah’m sorry aboot yer wee pal,” Shaun said turning, before disappearing.

  “Whit dae ye think?” Joe asked Tony, efter the Murphys hid disappeared.

  “If we know we tanned their dookit and they know they toasted oor cabin, whit dis that mean?  It means they’re still up tae nae good and they’ll try and get us tae let oor guard doon.  Ah don’t believe a bloody word that comes oot ae they pricks’ mooths.  We’ll need tae be extra careful and watch oot whit we’re daeing.  Ah think they’ll still try tae nab us, the first chance they get.”

  “So, whit dae we dae noo then?” Johnboy asked, feeling his shite glands starting tae jingle jangle.

  “Heid intae the toon centre tae gie us time tae think.”