The Silver Arrow (30 page)

  “It disnae make sense tae me, so it disnae.” Michelle admitted, shaking her heid as she stood up and walked across tae switch oan the kettle.

  “Right, this might sound stupid tae somewan like you, bit Ah don’t trust them enough tae feel that Ah could go tae them fur help, if Ah happened tae be in serious bother.”

  “Bit why?”

  “Because Ah’m a wummin fur God’s sake…that’s why.”

  “Senga, whit’s that goat tae dae wae anything?”

  “That’s jist how Ah feel and Ah’m no alone.  There’s plenty ae other wummin oot there who feel the same.”

  “Is it the uniform?”

  “No.  It’s the way they treat wummin.  It’s the way they dismiss the victims ae domestic abuse as nags who probably deserved a wee slap, even when that wee slap is translated intae broken bones or worse.  It’s the way they shout and scream at rape victims in interview rooms in polis stations, accusing them ae being hairy cows who’ve led oan the rapist in the first place and noo hiv the cheek tae shout that they’ve been attacked and molested.  It’s the way they perpetuate the myth that the only way tae respond tae violence is wae mair violence.  It’s their general attitude towards wummin.  Fur Christ’s sake, Michelle, why don’t ye wake up?  Ye should spend a week working in Casualty up at The Royal.  Ye’d soon know whit Ah wis talking aboot then.  When somewan his been raped, dae ye think the first person they want tae meet and be questioned by, efter whit’s jist happened tae them, is somewan like yer da?” Senga asked her, taking the fresh mug ae coffee being haunded across tae her.

  “Ah don’t think ye should be painting them aw wae the same brush.  That’s aw Ah’m saying.  Ah jist couldnae imagine ma da hivving that attitude or behaving in the way ye’re saying the polis dae.”

  “Michelle, the da ye know at hame is no the same da that’s oot oan the streets at night in a uniform, believe you me.”

  “How kin ye say that?”

  “Because Ah know yer da.  Ah’ve see him dragging young boys oot ae the back ae his van, wae their skulls split wide open or wae ruptures, efter being tortured up a side street or alleyway.”

  “Oh, fur Christ’s sake, Senga, ye’re jist as bad as Jake.  Ma da widnae dae things like that…he’s ma da, fur Christ’s sake,” Michelle laughed dismissively.

  “Whitever ye say,” Senga said drily.

  “Look, Ah’m sorry aboot last night…really.  Ah wis being a bit ae a jealous cow, so Ah wis,” Michelle admitted, changing the subject.

  “Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot it.  It aw turned oot aw right in the end, thanks tae Jake.  He said that it wis probably jist an opportunist burglar and that he hid probably being daeing the rounds, up and doon the closes in the street, efter picking up somewan’s hoose keys that hid been drapped.  It makes sense when ye think aboot it.”

  “Aye, Ah’ve heard ae that before.  Ma da wis always talking aboot that happening tae people.  Ye hiv tae watch oot nooadays wae the wee toe-rags that ur running aboot aw o’er the place.”

  “So, this statement?  Whit’s that aw aboot then?”

  “Oh, er, Ah don’t really want tae talk aboot it,” Michelle replied guardedly.

  “Ah’ve heard the word statement being bandied aboot a lot this last wee while.”

  “In yer job?”

  “Naw, amongst The Mankys.  Ye urnae gieing a statement tae Graham Portoy by any chance, ur ye?”

  “Er, aye, Ah think that’s his name.  Why?”

  “It’s aboot Johnboy, isn’t it?”

  “Whit makes ye say that?”

  “Because Ah’ve hid tae dae the same.  The boys ur trying tae collect evidence and build a case tae prove his innocence.  Whit ur they asking ae you?”

  Silence.

  “C’mone, Michelle, Ah’m no gonnae get upset or anything” Senga said, smiling fur the first time.

  “Jake wants me tae make a statement corroborating that Ah wis wae Johnboy between eight o’clock oan the night ae ma eighteenth birthday and the time ma da dragged him oot ae his bed in the early hours ae the morning.  Ah don’t know why he thinks it’s so important.  The bank wis done the previous November.”

  “Did Jake mention a Welsh guy called Swansea, who looks like wan ae The Thompson Twins oot ae Herge’s Adventures ae Tintin?”

  “Naw, why?”

  “Look, come and sit doon and we’ll read o’er whit ye’ve goat so far.  Ah’m sure Ah kin help ye.  Between The Thompson Twin and that smooth-talking bandit ae a lawyer, they’ll hiv ye no knowing if ye’re coming or gaun before ye’ve even sat doon.  We kin then talk aboot whit ye’re choosing fae the shoap tae wear tae Kim Sui’s show,” Senga said, as Michelle shot her a surprised look, before haunin o’er the pad.

  “Jake hisnae invited me,” Michelle said doubtfully.

  “Well, his name might be above the door ae the shoap, bit yer name’s certainly oan the ‘Lassies List’ that Kim Sui showed me last week.  Fae whit Ah kin gather, ye’re gaun, whether Jake his invited ye or no,” Senga said and the pair ae them burst oot laughing.

Chapter Forty

  Glenda looked nervously roond the table as everywan started tae stub oot their fags in the ashtrays that wur scattered aboot the tables and windae sills, before taking their seats.  Wae the overpowering stench ae Auld Spice eftershave and Brut body wash gripping her by the throat, she made her way tae the table, surfing through the blue haze ae swirling tobacco smoke that hid been making her eyes water fur the past hour, as she joined the braided uniforms gathering at the table.  She quickly glanced at her companions getting themsels settled in, as the cauld winter light struggled through the dirty windaes, failing miserably tae lift the spirits ae whit looked like a condemned man’s wedding.  At last, the meeting wis jist aboot tae begin. There wis an impressive amount ae braid oan show fae Jack Tipple, The Assistant Chief Constable doon tae Chief Superintendent Sam Bison, heid ae the city’s Serious Crime and Intelligence Division, Bob Mackerel, his opposite number, responsible fur overseeing the two murder teams in the city o’er the past eight years and Daddy Jackson, Superintendent fur the city’s North Division.  She’d been surprised tae see the ex-Chief Constable ae Dumfries, Peter Bracket, noo wan ae Her Majesties new Inspectors ae Polis, until she remembered that he’d been in charge ae the independent investigating team oan polis corruption that hid taken place in the late sixties, when hauf the sergeants and middle management ranks ae the polis in the north ae the city hid either been jailed or forced tae resign.  People still spoke in hushed tones aboot that period, still speculating oan how Daddy Jackson hid managed tae slip through the net, withoot the book being thrown at him.  Oan the civvy side, other than her and Peter Bracket, sat her boss, David Broderick, heid ae the city’s Procurator Fiscal Service and Dandy Hamilton, newly appointed Deputy Legal Adviser tae the Polis Service in the city since the formation ae Strathclyde Regional Council.  Apart fae Peggy McAvoy, who wis sitting aff tae the side, behind Glenda’s boss and ootside the main circle, taking notes ae the meeting, she wis the only other wummin at the table.  The meeting hid been planned tae start at ten, bit the train bringing Alan Small, Queen’s Counsel and heid ae The Crown’s Criminal Division in Edinburgh, hidnae goat in tae Queen Street until twenty past.  Efter arriving, he’d then locked himsel away in an office and spent aboot forty minutes oan the phone and a further ten minutes wae David Broderick, before emerging, withoot gieing any indication ae tae who he’d been talking tae oan the blower or whit hid passed between him and her boss.

  Efter managing tae push her way through the throng ae heckling journalists and TV camera crews, aw jostling fur a good position oan the front steps ae Central, waiting fur a statement oan whit hid happened alang oan the Broomielaw the night before, the strained tension amongst the ordinary staff in the building hid been visibly palpable.  

  “Whit’s the story, Glenda?  Ur ye here because ae whit happened alang oan the Broomielaw last night?”

  “Who ur the main suspects, Glenda?”

  “Whit’s the name’s ae the victims, Glenda?

  Wae the delay and the top brass disappearing tae speak tae people oan the phones in the offices alang the corridor every two minutes, looking tae be appraised ae any developments oan whit wis happening alang oan the Broomielaw, it wis wae relief that the meeting finally goat underway.  Jack Tipple opened by welcoming everywan, bit aw eyes wur oan the diminutive wee man at the end the table, Alan Small, who sat impassively, seemingly lost in thought.

  “I take it that everyone has had the opportunity to read the transcript of Inspector McPhee’s service notebook?” Jack Tipple asked, as uncomfortable nods ae ascent rippled roond the table.  “I’m sure the contents would have come as quite a shock to everyone, myself included, but having gone through it a few times in the past twenty four hours, it’s not actually as bad as it first appears,” he declared, as hauf the eyebrows in the room stood tae attention in surprise, wondering if Alan Small hid prompted him tae make that statement at the start ae the meeting so as tae ease the tension and people’s anxiety.

  “It’s one of the most damaging pieces of evidence of police conspiracy and collusion to pervert the course of justice I’ve come across in over twenty seven years in the prosecution service, Jack,” her boss, David Broderick exclaimed, as aw eyes swivelled back tae Alan Small, who clearly wisnae taking the bait, bit who’d jist slowly and methodically, extracted a fag fae his fancy cigarette case and inserted it in tae his wee gold fag holder.

  “Oh, and what makes you say that, David?” Jack Tipple asked pleasantly, as the wee man fae Edinburgh slowly took his time in lighting up his fag wae a Swan Vesta, leaving the yellow, green and orange box sitting in front ae him oan the table, as he slipped his fag case back in tae that pinstriped jaicket pocket ae his.

  “The undermining of serious organised crime investigations, including murder, for a start,” her boss replied, as everywan took the cue fae the wee Edinburgh brief and started lighting up.

  “You mean there’s more?” Jack Tipple asked, attempting tae lighten the tension in the room.

  “The torture of key witnesses, perverting the course of justice, withholding crucial evidence on at least half a dozen possibly unsolved murder cases, not to mention a miscarriage of justice in the Taylor boy’s case.  And to think that it’s even in The Inspector’s own handwriting, for God’s sake,” her boss exclaimed in wonder, getting a few wan smiles fae some ae the faces aroond the table at his last wee exaggerated display ae disbelief.

  “And him supposed tae be an intrepid investigator,” The Serious Crime and Intelligence Supremo, Sam Bison scoffed, his disbelieving wonder mirroring the heid ae the procurator fiscal service’s.  “Seemingly, he goes by the name ae The Stalker, wid ye believe?  Ah wonder if anywan ever telt him at the polis college that ye’re no supposed tae write doon a confession before ye’re even suspected ae the bloody crime in the first place.”

  “You make it sound as if we’re living in some sort of a police state, David,” Jack Tipple said, smiling and nodding across tae Bob Mackerel, the murder expert. “Bob?”

  “We’ve been aware ae maist ae the contents ae Inspector’s McPhee’s service notebook fur some time noo.  Superintendent Jackson awready passed oan McPhee’s concerns aboot the Tam Simpson case and the possible link tae a young killer by the name ae Anthony Gucci, the same day the killing took place up in High Possil, oan Hogmanay, back in nineteen seventy wan.  Daddy also inserted updates intae aw the intelligence and current investigative files associated wae those mentioned in the notebook, as soon as Inspector McPhee raised his concerns again, earlier in the year.  This wis especially at the mention and possible link tae Wan-bob Broon and others tae the disappearance ae Toby Simpson, Bootsy Henderson and Blaster McKay.  So, in essence, gentlemen, this Haufwit Murray’s so-called revelations wurnae that revealing efter aw.  We’d initially explored and dismissed these same allegations fae other sources oorsels earlier in the investigation in late 71, early 72.  That wis long before these allegations eventually surfaced in Inspector McPhee’s wee notebook.  However, Ah don’t think anywan wid need tae hiv attended the Sherlock Holmes School ae Detective Work tae come tae the conclusion that Wan-bob Broon and they cronies ae his wur in there somewhere.  Efter extensive investigation, including…may Ah say…manpower hours, way beyond whit could’ve been expected in a busy metropolitan polis department, we couldnae progress due tae a lack ae evidence.  Ma man, Detective Chief Inspector Bobby Mack, an experienced investigator fur o’er a hundred murder enquiries…maistly solved, Ah may add…reviewed the new evidence, as highlighted in the inspectors pocketbook notepad and found it tae be fatally flawed.  Ah kin also tell ye that this same chief inspector, alang wae another serving polis inspector, supervised by Superintendent Jackson here fur impartiality, conducted a further review ae the said contents ae the notebook mair recently,” Bob Mackerel informed them, omitting to say that it hid been The Stalker who wis the ‘other’ inspector.  “This latest examination ae the evidence, included looking intae the deaths ae the farmer, McPherson, the young nurse, Rose Bain, and Doctor Walsh, still found nae credible evidence tae link them or tae support any concerns regarding the misconduct or otherwise, ae serving polis officers.  There’s no a shred ae evidence that the young nurse and the doctor prematurely expired as a result ae whit they might or might no hiv heard fae this Mr Murray wan, known oan the streets as Haufwit, as he rambled incoherently tae Inspector McPhee up in Stobhill General Hospital that night.  Jesus, the lassie wisnae even oan duty, fur Christ’s sake.”

  Bob Mackerel slowly looked aroond the table, letting his words sink in. 

  “Noo, if she hid been oan duty, then that wid probably hiv been a different story,” he continued.  “Seven people hiv died in the city, so far this year, as a result ae hit-and-runs.  The year before, it wis thirteen, including two weans.  Terrible though it undoubtedly is, it happens aw the time.  This doctor, Dr Walsh, wis clearly a tortured soul who, we later discovered, frequented prostitutes and sadomasochism dens ae iniquity oan a regular basis…a dangerous pastime fur a man in his position, particularly in a place like Glesga, where the vice-trade is run by organised hoodlums.  We believe that he could’ve been a victim ae blackmail and extortion and it wis that, gentlemen, which drove him tae take his ain life.”

  “So, how do you account for the rope burns and extensive internal injuries to Doctor Walsh’s back, neck and larynx?  The post mortem report states that his injuries were consistent with more than one hanging attempt,” David Broderick persisted.

 
“So, he tried tae hing himsel and the rope came loose…it happens aw the time, so it dis.  He then goat up aff ae that sore arse ae his and went through the motions again, this time succeeding.”

  “And the rope burns on his wrists?  You don’t think his hands could have been tied behind his back before he wis hanged?”

  “Or, could’ve been inflicted in the brothel that he wis carted oot ae semi-conscious efter being tied up and thrashed by some floozy.  There wis fibres fae the same rope that he used tae hing himsel in his jaicket pocket and also found oan a mattress in the brothel.  The forensic boys didnae find any mair traces elsewhere within the premises, nor anywhere else in Dr Walsh’s hoose.  Inspector McPhee’s manner ae collecting evidence may no meet wae yer approval, Mr Broderick, despite the successful and consistent conclusion ae a whole raft ae murders and other serious criminal investigations, wae the credit being unashamedly accepted by the procurator fiscal’s office as a result ae good polis investigative work.  Aye, there might be a bit ae smoke oan the horizon efter reading the pocket notebook, bit Ah kin assure ye, there isnae any fire.  If there hid been, ma man, Inspector Mack, wid’ve picked up oan that long ago,” he assured aw those present.

  There…it hid been stated clearly, plainly and openly.  The gloves wur well and truly aff and the gauntlet hid been thrown intae the middle ae the table fur any takers tae step forward.  Glenda quickly glanced across at Peggy McAvoy tae make sure she wis taking doon the shite that Bob Mackerel hid jist come oot wae.  It wis noo abundantly clear that The Braided Bunch hid decided tae defend the indefensible, by staunin by their man.  This wid be interesting, she thought tae hersel.  She looked across at her boss.  He didnae seem too perturbed or upset.  He’d jist shrugged they shoulders ae his and started tae play rhythms, tapping his pen lightly oan the white blotter in front ae him, as he loosened the knot in his tie.  He looked across at her and she gied him a wee faint smile in return.  She thought he’d raised enough doubt tae warrant further investigations, bit it wis clear that The Braided Bunch thought otherwise and hid pinned their colours tae the mast.  She again, wondered why she’d been asked tae be present.

  “The admission that Inspector McPhee apparently tortured this…er…” Peter Bracket, The HM Inspector started, rifling through his papers.  “Ah, yes, this Mr Thomas, who has since gone missing.  What are the legal implications there, Dandy?”

  “Ah’ve been through the notebook a few times masel and while there could be disciplinary implications, Ah don’t think whit his been written by McPhee constitutes wide-spread corrupt practices or subverting the course ae justice.  Aye, his methods may belong tae a different age, bit he didnae explicitly state that he hid tortured Mr Thomas, a well-known violent gangster and scrap dealer, tae gain corroboration, oan whit this Haufwit character said before he passed away.  Ah think the inspector stated in his notebook that he’d encouraged Mr Thomas tae engage fully in his interview wae him, although, depending oan wan’s bias, it could be construed that he’d applied a bit ae undue pressure…”

  “At ten o’clock at night, in the back of a police van up on Cowlairs Park football pitches?” Glenda’s boss asked sarcastically.

  “Bit, Ah certainly didnae read excessive malpractice oan the part ae Inspector McPhee and Sergeant O’Callaghan, who Ah believe wis present and assisting wae the interview.  Mr Thomas certainly didnae make any formal complaint efterwards, which tends tae suggest he wisnae as concerned aboot the inspector’s interview technique as his been suggested roond this table,” Dandy Hamilton, the force’s Legal Adviser said, ignoring David Broderick’s interruption.

  “I tend to agree with Dandy on this one.  Yes, if pushed, we could wipe the floor with McPhee’s arse, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend bringing anyone in from another police force to investigate.  Think of the cost?  I know this may not sound popular to everyone sitting around this table, but there was a time when overzealous officers had a place in our ranks and who were not viewed as being corrupt or out of control, but protectors of the most vulnerable in our communities.  Civil liberties are one thing, but if that’s at the expense of the victim’s, then I’m sure the people we have sworn to protect would beg to disagree,” Peter Bracket, The Inspector of Polis said, getting nods fae aw The Braided Bunch aroond the table, some who’d visibly puffed oot their chests in quiet support ae the poor misjudged inspector under discussion.