The Silver Arrow (37 page)

  “Pat, Ah’m telling ye, Johnboy isnae yer man.  Take Simon Epstein or Ben McCalumn…they’d be better.”

  “Ah want Johnboy and that’s that.”

  “So, whit’s in it fur us then?”

  “Ye want intae the property market across in The West End, don’t ye?”

  “Aye.”

  “And that big glaikit dreep, Goldfinger, or whitever it is he’s called, wants a stake in Papa Fraser’s doon in West Nile Street, Ah hear?”

  “Aye.”

  “So, ye kin hiv two flats in Vinicombe Street and wan oan Woodlands Road.  They’ll need a bit ae work done oan them, bit ye kin hiv them fur forty percent ae their market value, and don’t say Ah’m no good tae ye.”

  “And Papa Fraser’s?” he’d asked.

“Wan-bob is the major shareholder there, bit yer boy kin buy up a slice ae Papa’s share at a big discount.”

  When Tony hid asked Johnboy in the sewing machine shoap doon in Dumfries if he wid’ve put a bullet in Shaun’s heid, he’d admitted that he didnae really know, bit probably no.  As it transpired, efter convincing Johnboy tae go alang wae getting shot ae Shaun Murphy, by reminding him ae how far they’d come and aboot the good opportunity it wid create fur them aw, bit fur Pat in particular…bit hivving left oot the bit aboot the property deals in The West End…the whole enterprise hid gone belly up.  Shaun Murphy hid pulled oot at the last minute and asked his brother Danny tae take his place.  It hid been Danny who’d turned up at Johnboy and Silent’s flat in Heim Street in Springburn tae pick Johnboy up.  It hid been Danny that hid been cutting across Maryhill, heiding fur the Clyde Tunnel, when Johnboy’d been clocked jist doon the road, oan the day the bank wis tanned.  Two witnesses hid seen him sitting in the passenger seat a couple ae hundred yards fae the bank that hid goat tanned an hour later.  When Johnboy hid appeared later oan in Jonah’s Lounge oan Springburn Road and telt them aboot Shaun swopping places wae his brother, Pat hid been sick as a pig.  The fuck-ups oan the day hidnae ended there either.  While they’d been stashing the dosh intae holdalls in the bank, Snappy hid let loose wae a sawn-aff shotgun efter that prick, Liam Thompson, a sergeant fae back in their Toonheid days, hid arrived wae a young PC tae make a cash withdrawal.  When the sergeant hid decided tae become a hero, Snappy hid let him hiv it.  Another victim that day hid been Jimmy Baxter, who’d also been staunin innocently in the queue, waiting tae make a cash withdrawal.  He’d panicked and fucked aff oot ae the door efter witnessing the two bizzies hitting the deck.  Jist three months later, in January 1973…oan Michelle Hope’s eighteenth birthday…there hid been a professional boxing dinner oan at The Ashville Club across in Possil.  The Big Man hid been back in the toon and wis haudin court wae a squad ae his pals fae the world ae sport and television and hid gied Tony a rare invite tae join him.  Tony hid sent word back that he’d gie the meal a miss, bit wid turn up fur the boxing later.  Earlier in the evening, Simon Epstein hid been gieing him a run up the road tae get changed, when they’d spotted Shaun Murphy ladling intae some poor basturt ootside Sherries Bar oan the corner ae Auchentoshan Terrace and Springburn Road.  By the time Simon hid pulled o’er, Shaun hid crossed the road and wis staggering doon Springburn Road in the direction ae Sighthill.  They’d sat and watched the basturt, praying he’d turn in tae Fountainwell Road…which he hid.  Tony and Simon hid heided straight intae Springburn before turning left alang Keppochhill Road.  While Simon hid parked the car up across in Carlisle Street, where Johnboy’s ma and da used tae live, Tony hid sauntered across the wee railway footpath bridge that lead intae Sighthill fae Keppochhill Road, tae wait fur Shaun’s arrival.  Tony and Simon hid guessed that Shaun wis heiding through the multi-storeys, taking a shortcut through Carlisle Street, past the bowling green and oan tae the Cowlairs fitba pitches, oan route tae Possil.  Tony hidnae hid long tae wait.  Shaun hid come staggering alang the path, growling at the world and everywan in it.  It hid jist goat dark and the orange lights oan the path hid jist came oan when Tony hid first arrived.  They’d lit up the path as the shadow in the distance grew larger as it approached.  Simon hid slipped Tony a First World War trench knife that he kept under the driver’s seat ae his car fur emergencies.  It wis a lethal-looking fucker, aboot twelve inches long, wae a serrated edge doon near the haundle.  It also hid a built-in knuckleduster above the grip ae the haundle.  Tony hidnae fucked aboot wae any niceties.

  “Tony, it’s yersel, ya manky-arsed Atalian prick, ye,” Shaun hid growled in a rare attempt at being friendly.

  That hid been the last words Shaun Murphy hid ever uttered.  Using the knuckleduster oan the knife tae reply tae Shaun’s welcome, he’d punched the basturt that hard oan the coupon, that he’d hauf ran and hauf staggered back aboot eight feet, crashing intae the wee crumbling, broken stane-dyke wall that ran the length ae the cemetery.  Tony hid been oan tae him in a flash, sinking the trench knife deep intae Shaun’s guts as rapidly and as forcibly as he could muster wae that strength ae his. 

  “This is fur Skull, ya dirty basturt ye,” he’d wheezed through clenched teeth at Shaun’s disbelieving, shocked, frightened face.  “Did ye really think we’d furgotten?”

  He could feel the tip ae the blade glancing aff the dyke as he repeatedly plunged the blade back intae Shaun’s guts.  He couldnae remember how many times he’d plunged the basturt.  Aw he could remember wis Simon dragging him aff, leaving Shaun’s legs tae buckle oan their ain accord, before he slumped, face doon, oan tae the dug shit covered grass, a shocked expression, masked in sheer terror, oan his coupon, as the blood pished oot ae the basturt.  Tony hidnae exchanged any words wae Shaun during the attack other than tae remind him that whit he wis getting wis in retaliation fur the death ae their pal, ten-year-auld Skull Kelly.  Him and Simon hid quickly dumped the body o’er the wall fur the time being.  Simon hid then taken Tony up the road tae get changed.  While Tony’d gone across tae the boxing match in Possilpark, Simon and Ben hid disposed ae Shaun’s body, as well as whit Tony hid been wearing, up in the furnace in the boilerhoose ae the swimming baths.  When Tony hid arrived later, jist before the second part ae the boxing programme started at hauf ten, he’d telt The Big Man whit hid jist happened.  Pat hid loudly ordered up another four big bottles ae champagne tae the awready pished table ae celebrities.

  “As far as anywan’s concerned, ye wur here as ma guest the whole night,” he’d laughingly shouted tae Tony, gieing him a big kiss and a slap oan the foreheid.

  Tony looked across at The Winter Gardens…the big glass-domed greenhoose, attached tae the red sandstone building, sitting majestically oan the green.  Tae the right ae where he wis looking, a couple hid stoapped tae peer in at the water in the Doulton fountain.  The guy wis pushing a pram and the wummin hid jist let a collie dug aff ae the leash tae go and hiv a run aboot.  He’d read somewhere that the fountain wis the largest operating terracotta fountain in the world, as well as the best surviving example.  His mind drifted back tae their welcome hame bash.  He missed Johnboy awready.  It hid been a good night, especially lying in the erms ae Kim Sui efter so long.  He knew that it wid take him a while tae get used tae movement roond aboot him in bed at night, bit it wisnae a problem he’d find too difficult. 

  “Kim, hiv ye ever heard ae a black model that goes by the name ae The Black Pearl?” he’d asked her.

  “The Black Pearl?  No, why?”

  “Seemingly she’s really famous, so she is.”

  “That sounds as if that’s her catwalk name.  What’s her birth name?”

  “Maureen Ngala…she’s Kenyan.”

  “Well, I could be wrong, but I don’t think there’s many black models on the circuit in Europe.  I’ll speak to my sister Bo and ask her to find out more when she arrives for the fashion show tomorrow, if you want?”

  “Aye, that wid be fine and dandy, so it wid,” he’d replied.

  Efter Kim Sui hid fallen asleep in his erms, he’d lain fur ages thinking aboot Johnboy and the challenges that lay aheid.  He admired whit Senga, Michelle Hope and aw the lassies wur daeing fur him, bit he knew that it wid take a lot mair than sending letters tae MPs and disinterested editors ae newspapers tae get them oan board.  The cells in the jails in Scotland wur full ae innocent YOs and cons who wur banged up fur crimes they hidnae committed, efter being fitted up by the bizzies and the system.  And the worst thing aboot it wis that nowan gied a fuck.  The system wis originally set up tae put people away.  Very little thought wis ever gied oan how tae release somewan, particularly in the event ae a miscarriage ae justice.  He wanted tae tell the lassies that, bit he didnae want tae dampen doon their obvious enthusiasm and determination tae see Johnboy set free.  They’d soon find oot fur themsels.  Where Tony and the rest ae The Mankys could come in handy wid be in making sure that Johnboy’s eventual release wisnae hampered by lack ae funds tae cover legal and publicity costs.  

  “That’s quarter past ten, Tony.  Whit’s happening?” Ben asked fae the front seat, breaking intae his thoughts.

  “Wait here,” Tony replied, opening the back passenger door and stepping oot oan tae the freezing pavement, before heiding in the direction ae the entrance tae The People’s Palace and Winter Gardens. 

Chapter Forty Eight

  “Christ, Pat, is that you?” Tony asked, failing tae keep the surprise fae his voice.

  “Who did ye think it wis?  A ghost?” Pat Molloy, The Big Man replied, smiling and no getting up, bit anchoring where he wis sitting, a flask in his haun.

  “Christ, nae wonder we didnae spot Wan-bob,” Tony replied, gieing himsel enough time tae sort oot the confusion in that heid ae his, as he plapped his arse doon oan the wee bench opposite.  “Whit’s wae the cane?” he asked, nodding tae the fancy walking stick that wis balancing between The Big Man’s legs.

  “Ah stood oan a bit ae a prickly pear in ma bare feet a few weeks ago when Ah wis heiding fur ma morning dip and it became septic, so it did,” The Big Man replied disgustedly, waving the pointed end ae the walking stick at the cactus plants surrounding them.

  “Ah cannae believe how hot it is in here efter being oot there,” Tony exclaimed, loosening his jaicket, as he looked aboot.  “Ma baws feel like they’re encased in brass, so they dae.”

  “Ach, well, they’ll match yer neck then.  So, how wis Dumfries?”

  “Closed-in.”

  “Aye, that’s whit happens when ye get caught or dae something stupid that isnae worth the time.  The jail’s fur mugs.  Ye never struck me as being a bit ae a mug, Tony.  Maybe Ah wis wrang, eh?” The Big Man wondered, looking intae the eyes ae the young Turk opposite him.

  “Or maybe Ah wis jist too trusting…like Johnboy,” Tony reminded him, wanting tae take a step forward and swiftly kick that smug face intae next week.

  Pat smiled.  He knew whit wis gaun oan in that young heid sitting opposite him.  He’d known Tony Gucci since he wis a wee manky-arsed snapper, crawling aboot in amongst the cut hair oan his da’s barber shoap flair, doon in the High Street in the mid fifties.  He’d seen the toddler’s potential even at that early age efter a customer hid arrived wae his ain wee boy in tow.  Baith the weans hid been happily crawling aboot the flair.  The other wee boy hid been clenching a toy rattle in that haun ae his, squealing and laughing oot loud every time it made a noise when he shook it.  Insteid ae trying tae entice the rattle aff ae him, Tony hid jist crawled across and punched the wee boy in the face before taking it fur himsel.  While the customer hid jumped up aff the barber’s chair and scooped up his greeting wee brat, Tony’s auld man hid screamed and shouted at him, demanding he haun o’er the stolen swag.  Despite getting his bare legs skelped, Tony hid refused tae haun it o’er and hid shot aff, crawling like the clappers between Pat’s legs, his auld man in hot pursuit.  Pat hid gied the other da two hauf crowns tae go and buy his son a new rattle efter scooping Tony up in his erms.

  “Thata no very good, Pat.  The boy hasta learn no to take whatta is no his,” Tony’s da hid admonished him in that strong Atalian accent ae his.

  “Ach, he’s jist a wean, so he is,” Pat hid replied, impressed, as the wee erms wrapped roond his neck, wis still clutching oan tae the stolen rattle fur dear life.

  “So, whit ur ye gonnae dae wae yersel noo?” Pat asked him.

  “Take stock, settle a few scores and get oan wae where Ah left aff,” Tony admitted.

  “So, who wasted Spotty Hector and Chick Shand then?”

  “Harding Lennox,” Tony replied, feeling his sphincter expanding ever so slightly at the sight ae the instant tic appearing at the side ae The Big Man’s right eye.

  “And dae ye know why?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Harding’s bringing gear ashore…oan your side ae the Clyde…well away fae the radar ae they bosses ae his.”

  “Dae ye know how he’s daeing it?”

  “A Chinese cook fae wan ae the boats.”

  “Dae ye know which boat?”

  “Aye.”

  “Is there a middleman?”

  “A middleman?”

  “A cheeky, impertinent, independent cunt, that Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie should’ve been aware ae?”

  “Aye,” Tony replied, starting tae feel slightly alarmed, as the tic started tae throb mair energetically, as if something jist under the skin wis trying tae burrow itsel oot. 

  As nonchalantly as he could, Tony glanced aboot tae make sure the two named gorillas wurnae lurking aboot in amongst the exotic, jagged undergrowth.

  Silence.

  “Tell me aboot the nurse,” The Big Man asked him, the raging tic starting tae look a bit mair subdued.

  “Ye’ve read the contents ae the pocket notebook that Simon passed oan tae Wan-bob?” Tony asked him.

  “Aye, it’s the first time Ah’ve read a book in picture format that wisnae a comic,” Pat replied, smiling.

  He’d need tae go caw-canny, Pat thought tae himsel.  He wondered if Tony wis carrying.  He doubted it.  He wid’ve known fine well that if it hid been Wan-bob meeting him, the first thing he wid’ve done wis frisk him.  It widnae hiv been good if Tony wis discovered tae hiv been carrying a gun or a knife.  Wan-bob certainly widnae hiv taken too kindly tae that.  It wid’ve suggested that Tony wis prepared tae fight.  The foundations ae the Kingston Bridge and the multi-storeys appearing oan the city’s skyline wur full ae tickets who’d gied that impression…rightly or wrangly.  He didnae think Tony wis that stupid.

  “Youse fucked up, or at least, Spotty Hector and that sidekick ae his, Chick, did.  They ended up targeting the wrang nurse.”

  “Senga Jackson?”

  “It’s funny ye should mention her name, bit it isnae her.  She wisnae the nurse oan duty that night either,” Tony replied, keeping his face respectfully deadpan and his voice matter-ae-fact.  “Ah don’t know where ye’re getting yer duff information fae, bit it certainly wisnae her,” Tony said, deriving a wee bit ae pleasure oot ae witnessing the fleeting wisp ae confusion that hid swept o’er The Big Man’s eyes.

  “Bit, ye know who she is?”

  “Aye.”

  Silence.

  The Big Man wis starting tae enjoy himsel.  He’d missed jousting wae this young, fly basturt.  Wan thing wis fur sure…there wis never a dull moment when Tony Gucci and his wee band ae manky-arsed toe-rags wur ducking and diving.  He wished noo that Wan-bob hid been here.  He’ll be kicking himsel that he missed the show, Pat thought tae himsel.

  “Carry oan,” he said, nodding tae the Atalian.

 
“Ah need tae use some ae the contents ae the notebook fur Graham Portoy tae put up as fresh evidence tae try and get Johnboy a retrial.”

  “The notebook that implicates Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie in daeing away wae Toby Simpson, Blaster McKay and Bootsy Henderson…that notebook?”

  “The notebook might hiv aw that in it and mair, bit unless that bunch ae stiffs ur gonnae come back tae gie evidence fur the prosecution as bitter, twisted ghosts, where wid the evidence tae corroborate Haufwit Murray’s allegations come fae, eh?  Let’s be realistic here, Pat,” Tony cooed, respectfully.  “Ye’re no gonnae tell me that yersel or Wan-bob didnae think youse wurnae the main suspects tae start wae?  Christ, Ah’m even doon as daeing away wae Tam Simpson and shooting that social worker ae his.  Ye don’t see me shaking in ma shoes, expecting tae be lifted at any minute…noo, dae ye?”

  “That’s because nowan in his right mind wid believe a wee manky-arse like yersel wid’ve hid the bottle…or the brains, tae take doon somewan like Tam Simpson.”

  “Aye, well…whitever.  The point Ah’m making is that nowan is gonnae be surprised at the names mentioned in that wee book…noo, ur they?”

  “Tony, Ah don’t know why you’re so eager.  As soon as Danny learns that it’s yer wee pal that’s doon fur daeing away wae that big brother ae his, the safest place fur him will be the jail.  And, as fur youse?  Well, a different toon might be an option in the short-term,” Pat said grimly, fair enjoying himsel.

  “Danny Murphy knows fine well that Johnboy wisnae involved wae Shaun’s disappearance,” Tony challenged him.

  “Dis he?”

  “We’ve goat a signed statement fae wan ae the lassies that swears Johnboy wis wae her oan the night Shaun disappeared.”

  “Oh, that’ll mollify Danny, so it will.  Ah widnae mention her name in front ae him or she’ll disappear, alang wae the rest ae youse,” Pat retorted, smiling and unscrewing his flask.  “Here, haud oan tae this fur me.”

  Pat haunded o’er the cup he’d unscrewed fae the tap ae the flask, as he went intae his pocket and withdrew another wan, before passing that wan across as well.

  “Her name’s Michelle Hope.  It wis her eighteenth birthday the night ae the boxing bash across in Possil.  Her da, wan ae the local bizzies, wis working the back shift, so the family hid a wee party in the efternoon fur her.  Later oan that night, her and Johnboy went tae the pictures in the toon and then back tae his flat where she stayed the night.  Baith Johnboy and Silent goat huckled fur the bank job at hauf two in the morning, efter her da and aw his mates kicked doon the front door and arrested him.  His daughter wis lying in the bare buff in the bed beside Johnboy when that auld man ae hers burst intae the bedroom.  Shaun disappeared roond aboot nine-thirty that night, efter setting aboot somewan ootside Sherries oan Springburn Road.  The polis awready know who it wis that he battered that night.  That wis the last known sighting ae Shaun.  Johnboy wis sitting in The Odeon doon in Renfield Street watching ‘That’ll Be The Day,’ despite whit the diary claims,” Tony said, haudin oot the two cups, as The Big Man filled them up wae milky coffee.

  “Hope?”

  “Her da’s based up in Springburn.  Ah’m sure Danny will manage tae find oot whit his reaction wis efter finding that daughter ae his in the sack wae a well known Ned,” Tony replied, smiling faintly, as The Big Man pulled oot a silver flask fae his inside pocket and topped up the coffee in baith cups. 

  Tony could smell the strong smell ae single malt. 

  “Ah wis oan ma lonesome when Ah took care ae Shaun, Pat.  None ae the other Mankys wur involved, so they wurnae. The only other person who knows who done in Shaun, is you.”

  “Cheers,” The Big Man said, nodding, before taking a wee sip.

  “The diary also states that Johnboy wisnae in the bank that efternoon.  We need that fur his defence.  Graham reckons that that’s whit’ll break the baws ae The Crown’s case.”

  “Why did he no use the fact that he wis oot in Linwood wae Danny in his defence at the time?”

  “Wan-bob refused tae sanction it.”

  “Did he noo?  So, why did ye no come and speak tae me then?”

  “Because ye wur back in Spain and Ah didnae know how tae get in touch wae ye…plus a wee Chinese basturt intervened wae ma social diary at the time.  Wan-bob promised me that he’d talk tae ye himsel, bit that Ah wisnae tae haud ma breath.  Meanwhile, Johnboy goat found guilty and refused leave tae appeal, aw because ae that basturt, Liam Thompson.  He swore blind that it wis Johnboy that let him and that shiny-buttoned pal ae his hiv it.  The PC Plod that wis shot alangside him jist confirmed everything Thompson said in court.  Fuck, even Ah volunteered tae be called as a witness tae tell the jury that Thompson and his Jackanory pal wur talking a load ae shite because Ah wis staunin up oan the coonter watching everything in bright Technicolor, bit Johnboy widnae hear ae it.  He stupidly believed that he’d get the go-aheid fae you, tae use the meeting wae the inspector oot in Linwood as his alibi, before the end ae his trial.  So much fur faith, eh?”

  Silence.

  “So, who wis it that done the shooting then?”

  “Snappy Johnston.”

  “Ah’ve warned ye aboot that fucking maniac before.  Ye should’ve goat rid ae him long ago,” Pat growled, no being able tae stoap himsel fae chastising the Atalian, bit still feeling a bit sorry fur him, fur his sentimental mistake ae allowing a dumpling tae run aboot wae him and that wee gang ae his. 

  He’d hid a few useless bampots in tow ae his ain o’er the years. 

  “Ah cannae see Wan-bob agreeing tae the use ae the diary, even if it is fur a nice boy like Johnboy,” The Big Man said, taking another sip ae the hot liquid.

“Ah thought ye wur still the boss?” Tony replied, instantly realising his mistake and cursing himsel.

“Tony, watch yer tongue noo, eh?  Ah might be sitting here wae a walking stick, bit that’s nae excuse fur ye tae try and take liberties wae me,” Pat cursed him coldly, feeling his anger shoot tae the surface.

  “Aye, Ah know.  Ah’m sorry, Pat,” he replied, apologising in his best submissive voice.  “That’s the jail fur ye.”

  “Wan-bob tells me that Johnboy is talking aboot getting engaged tae Ann Jackson’s daughter.  They’re funny creatures…wummin…aren’t they?  Wan-bob says he met the daughter wae her ma doon in George Square a few years back.  The lassie hid a pal wae her.  They’d been looking at flats through Bob Montieth and he felt sorry fur them, so goat them a good flat o’er in The West End somewhere at a discounted rent,” Pat said, watching Tony carefully.

  “Aye, it wis the flatmate that wis oan duty that night.  She wis covering fur the wan that youse ran o’er,” Tony admitted, looking The Big Man straight in the eye, relieved that Pat Molloy wis informing him that Senga and her flatmate owed Wan-bob a favour and that fair exchange wis nae robbery.

  The lassies wur in the clear, thank fuck…unless he messed it up wae coming oot wae a heap ae shite.  He wished Johnboy wis sitting wae them tae hiv heard it fae the horse’s mooth.