Dumfries (33 page)

  “Paddy, listen up.  Ah cannae speak fur long.  Ah…Ah’ve goat tae get back,” he’d whispered doon the crackly line.

  “Haufwit, where ur ye? Ah’ve missed ye, ya wee…”

  “Shaun Murphy.”

  “Eh?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Aye, Ah know that.  He’s across in Spain living it up wae The Big Man.”

  “Paddy, listen tae me, he’s gone…as in gone…gone, so he is,” Haufwit hid panted, insisting oan being heard.

  “Bit who?  When?”

  “Look, Ah need tae run, it’s too dangerous fur me tae talk tae ye jist noo.  Ah jist wanted tae gie ye the heids up…jist in case anything happens tae me…Ah’ll, Ah’ll phone ye back in a day or so,” Haufwit hid hissed, before hinging up.

Despite putting oot feelers aboot the whereaboots ae Shaun Murphy, ex-right-haun man ae Pat Molloy, until Wan-bob Broon took o’er those reigns, nothing hid come back tae suggest that Shaun Murphy wisnae across there in Spain somewhere, breaking the legs ae some poor unfortunate.  Interpol wid’ve been the answer fur checking oot the situation, bit it wid’ve meant hivving tae go through Daddy Jackson and that widnae hiv been a wise move oan his part.  There certainly hidnae been a whisper in the toon that something hid gone doon.  It hid crossed The Stalker’s mind that there might’ve been a connection between Haufwit passing oan info tae him and his exit fae a fast moving car, bit he’d dismissed that.  The only person who knew aboot his connection wae Haufwit wis Bumper and he widnae hiv telt a soul.  He’d panicked when the doctor hid mentioned Haufwit hid been shifted in tae the family room.  Fae whit The Stalker knew ae him, Haufwit hid nowan, certainly nae family member that wid sit by the bedside ae some scar-faced haufwit, who hidnae two pennies tae rub thegither, despite thirty-odd years in the blagging business.

Chapter Thirty One

  Lizzie Mathieson looked aboot and yawned.  She knew it hid been a stupid thing fur her tae agree tae.  There wis only hersel and the patient in the dimly lit room and he hidnae moved or uttered a sound since she’d started her shift earlier.  She wid’ve liked tae hiv turned doon the volume ae the ECG monitor, bit she knew that wis oot ae the question.  She rubbed her eyes.  She’d only hid a hauf hour break since finishing her last full shift.  Sister hid apologised, which wis a first, bit hid then gone oan tae plead wae her tae dae an extra shift as Rose Bain, Lizzie’s opposite shift counterpart, who should’ve been oan duty, hid phoned in sick at the last minute.  Lizzie hid hesitated.  No because she didnae want tae dae the overtime, the extra money being much appreciated, bit her and her flatmate Senga Jackson, wur supposed tae be meeting up wae Rory Brand and a doctor pal ae his.  Senga hid awready met this Thomas wan, as he rented a room in Rory’s big hoose across in the south ae the city.  Senga hid telt her that he wis a pure darling and better-looking than her ain boyfriend, Rory, who she’d been gaun oot steady wae fur the past eight months.

  “Er, aye, okay, Sister, bit Ah’ll warn ye the noo, Ah’m aboot deid oan ma feet efter running aboot in here aw day, so Ah am.”

  “Ach, don’t worry Lizzie, ye’ll be covering the Intensive Care Family Room.  We’ve goat a poor chap in there who came in, in the early hours ae this morning, who isnae expected tae last the night.  If he dis happen tae go before the end ae the shift, we’ll call a taxi and get ye back hame. Is that okay?”

  “Will he hiv family in wae him?” she’d asked.

  “Well, he hisnae so far, bit ye never know. There could be family travelling fae abroad…who knows?  If that’s the case, then they’ll hiv tae get their skates oan.  Dr Walsh says he’s surprised he’s still wae us.”

  She’d managed tae get word doon tae Senga at The Royal, who’d goat a message back tae her telling her no tae worry, as there wid always be other nights.  Efter checking o’er the ventilator and monitor, she wis surprised tae hear the door behind her open. When she turned, Dr Walsh, followed by a shifty-looking man in a chequered sports jacket, entered the room.

  “Nurse, this is Inspector McPhee.  He’s a dear friend of Mr Murray and is paying his last respects before he expires,” he whispered.

  “Er, is he family?” she asked, looking at the plain-clothed polisman.

  “Ah’m the nearest thing he’s goat, hen.  Me and er, Sandy, Mr Murray, go back a long way.  Noo, if it’s okay wae yersels, Ah’ll jist take a wee minute tae express ma condolences and say ma farewells,” The Stalker said, tip-toeing away fae them and plapping that arse ae his doon oan tae the plastic padded chair beside the patient’s heid.

  “Is Sister aware that Mr Murray his a visitor at five past wan in the morning, who isnae a member ae his family, Doctor?” Lizzie asked, looking fae the doctor tae the polisman and back again, efter being led by the elbow across tae the door.

  “Sister is on her break, Nurse…er…Mathieson,” the doctor replied, looking at the name badge oan her uniform.

  “So, ye’ll let her know that a friend, er, a polisman is present, and looks tae be trying tae interview the patient?” she persisted, looking across at the bed, biting her bottom lip and feeling uncomfortable.

  “Look, you heard the inspector state that he is the nearest person to family that the patient has.  The inspector isn’t here on police business.  He only wants five minutes.  I’ll deal with matron…you just do your job,” the doctor snapped at her abruptly, leaving her staunin there oan her lonesome. 

  “Haufwit?  Haufwit, kin ye hear me?  It’s Paddy,” The Stalker whispered intae the patient’s ear, efter hivving left the doctor tae explain his presence tae the duty nurse.

Silence.

  “Haufwit, it’s me, Paddy…The Stalker.  Ur ye awright, son?  Kin ye hear me?”

The Inspector looked aboot, heartened by a wee flicker ae the eyelids and a quiet wee groan, emitting fae the dry, cracked lips ae the wheezing patient.

  “Haufwit, dae ye know who done this tae ye, son?”

  “Pad?” the patient wheezed. “Pa…Paddy?”

  “Aye, it’s me, Sandy.  Tell me who done this tae ye and Ah’ll get the basturts?”

  “Pen…pency…pen…pencil.”

  “Look, Haufwit, don’t worry, Ah’ve goat it at the ready, son, so Ah hiv.  Jist spit it oot, whitever ye want tae say.  Ah’ll jist write it doon in that wee black book ae mine.  Let’s get the basturts that did this, eh?” The Stalker whispered encouragingly, glancing across at the suspicious-looking nurse, who wisnae hiding the fact that she wis trying tae lug in tae whit wis being said.

Fuck her, he telt himsel.  He’d deal wae any fall-oot later.  In the meantime, he hid business tae be getting oan wae.

  “Paddy…Paddy…Toby…Bootsy Bell…battered in Bob, Bob Montieth’s…factor’s offices…Woodside…Shaun Murphy…Peter the Plant… took them…took…factory in the Coocaddens…Coocaddens…tortured…shot by Wan-bob himsel…baseball bat…Charlie…Charlie Hastie,” Haufwit rasped, breathing sounding like a slice ae pork crackling, spitting oan tap ae a charcoal brazier.

  “Haufwit, whit aboot Blaster then?  Blaster Mackay?  Wis he involved?” he whispered, scowling a warning across at the nurse, who wis glaring back at him, warning her no tae even think ae butting in.

  “Python Lee Jackson…Iron Works…sang in McGregor’s…McGregor’s club across the water…Wan-bob no happy…the quiet boy…the quiet wan…young Simpson, young Simpson…Blas…deid…farmer…Alexandra…chicken farmer…Wan-bob…Charlie Hastie…ambush…took him,” Haufwit gurgled, before gaun quiet, as The Stalker sat back oan his chair, cursing himsel fur obviously arriving too late. “Shot…Coocaddens…deid…aw deid…Wan-bob…Wan-bob,” Haufwit started up again, murmuring deliriously, seeming tae fall in and oot ae consciousness, his breathing quietly clattering like an exhaust pipe wae a hole in it.

  “Look, sir, Ah’m gonnae hiv tae ask ye tae leave…as in right noo. The patient’s getting terribly distressed, so he is,” Lizzie hauf hissed, hauf screeched, as the monitors roond the bed started lighting up like Lewis’s shoap front windae oan Christmas Eve.

  “Look, no the noo, hen.  Kin ye no see he’s trying tae tell me something important here?” The Stalker snapped, desperate noo, ignoring the stupid bitch.

  “Look, Ah’m sorry, ye’ll hiv tae leave or Ah’m calling fur Sister…Ah mean it,” she threatened him, heiding across tae the alarm buzzer oan the wall.

  “Okay, okay, right, Ah’ll jist let him finish whit he’s saying and that’s it and then Ah’ll be offskie.  Jist gie me another minute, hen, please?” The Stalker pleaded, while at the same time, trying tae scribble doon whit Haufwit wis mumbling, as the dying man dug his fingernails intae his wrist.

  “Bank job…Maryhill…Mankys…no the boy Taylor…no Taylor.”

  “Whit’s that Haufwit?  Say that again, son?” The Stalker asked, astonished.

  “Mankys…Gucci…no Taylor…no Taylor…no bank…Taylor boy shot… Shaun Murphy…Shaun deid…bridge…bridge…Johnboy Taylor…no bank…Gucci…quiet wan and Snapp…bank job.”

  “Naw Haufwit, it wis that young Taylor that shot big Liam Thompson.  We know aw The Mankys wur involved, including him. That’s whit happened.  The basturt goat sent doon fur fourteen years, so he did,” The Stalker hauf screeched, hauf pled, in total denial ae whit he’d jist heard.

  He wisnae sure if that sphincter ae his wis expanding wae joy efter being telt whit hid become ae The Simpsons, Blaster McKay and Shaun Murphy or by the news that, wan ae The Mankys, Taylor, hidnae shot Big Liam Thompson and that young constable, while they wur staunin in the queue ae the bank waiting tae make a withdrawal, when the stupid basturts should’ve been oot oan the street catching crooks.

  “Johnston…Snapp John…fired shotgun…bank…Maryhill…bank.”

  “Right, if ye’re no oot this door in five seconds flat, this buzzer is getting pressed,” The nurse warned him again, making him jump at the intrusion ae her voice.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sakes!” he squealed in frustration.

  “Wan…Two…”

  The Stalker hesitated, and looked at her. Their eyes locked.

  “Three…”

The Inspector felt the room spinning.  Everything hid slowed doon, while at the same time, her finger hovering o’er the alarm button suddenly jumped in tae focus in front ae they eyes ae his.  It wis as if he wis looking doon a long, narrow tube, at that threatening finger hovering through the wrang end ae high powered binoculars.

  “Four…”

The bitch fucking meant it.

  “Right, right, Ah’m oan ma way.  Don’t get yer bloody knickers in a twist,” he cursed her, as he crossed the room and wrenched open the door, disappearing oot intae the hauf lit, silent corridor.

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

One of the biggest goods train robberies in recent years took place in Cowlairs, Springburn, last night, when an estimated nine hundred cases of Macallan Single malt whisky and over two hundred thousand cigarettes were stolen from stationary wagons whilst undergoing emergency maintenance checks due to a brake failure before heading south to ports in southern England.  The goods wagons, left unattended over a three-hour period, were broken into and the contents removed.  Police believe trucks or vans were involved in the transfer of the stolen property and witnesses are asked to contact Inspector Paddy McPhee at Springburn Police Station where confidentiality will be guaranteed…

There was shock in the financial markets and in people’s pockets after home loan rates were raised today.  The loan rate is now standing at 11% after the Council of the Building Society Association rates went up by 1%…

  A GPO mail van and the two drivers inside, were held up at gunpoint and a number of sacks containing pay packets were stolen outside GE Roberts Engineering, in Dobbies Loan, Townhead, around eight-thirty this morning.  No-one was believed to be hurt in the incident.  A GPO spokesman said that the robbers made off with untraceable bank notes in excess of eleven thousand pounds…

  The unidentified driver of what appears to be a classic Formula One silver sports car has been out on Great Western Road in the early hours of the city again, after being pursued by police from Cowcaddens Road up as far as Anniesland Cross.  Average speeds of over one hundred and fifty five miles an hour were clocked, as the driver sped through red lights, putting himself and other road users’ lives in danger.  Two police squad cars were involved in separate, minor accidents, along the route during the chase as the culprit disappeared down Crow Road in Anniesland.  Chief Inspector John Bower, from the force’s Traffic Section, said that it was only by the grace of God that the chase took place at twenty past one in the morning when Great Western Road was quiet and that…

  Mr and Mrs John Mackieson are celebrating seventy years of marriage together today.  The loving couple, both residents of Happy Days old folk’s home in Cardonald, put the success of their long and happy marriage down to the fact that Mrs Mack always wore the trousers and Mr Mack kept a tight grip on the purse strings…”