Kingston Bridge

  Ian Todd was born in the Townhead district of Glasgow in 1955 and lived there until his family was moved out by the bulldozers in 1969. He lived in Maryhill and Milton, before the family finally settled in Springburn. He moved to the north of Scotland in the early 1980s to go to Aberdeen College of Education and has worked as a Community Development Worker within Youth Work and Adult Learning since then. Ian has a grown-up family and lives with his partner, his five dogs and one cat and has been writing for a number of years.

  For Morven, Sarah and Calum

  Kingston Bridge

  By Ian Todd

  Kingston Bridge is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  You can keep up to date with The Mankys and Johnboy Taylor on The Glasgow Chronicles’ website and Ian Todd’s Facebook page for The Glasgow Chronicles:

  www.theglasgowchronicles.com

  www.facebook.com/theglasgowchronicles

  Chapter One

  “Whit the fuck?” Sergeant Tam McBride exclaimed, quickly exiting the driver’s door ae the squad car oan Water Row, as the wee group ae inquisitive onlookers aw suddenly scattered in his direction, the gusting wind picking up speed and the billowing, thick black smoke, racing efter them.

  “Is that a…?” PC Bobby Malone gasped, his voice faltering, alang wae his legs.

  “His anywan called the fire brigade?” The Sarge demanded tae know, grabbing wan ae the runners.

  “Ah…Ah, don’t know, sir,” the guy shouted back at him, wrenching his erm oot ae the haun that hid a grip ae it, as The Sarge and his PC aboot turned, quickly following in the footsteps ae the panicking bodies.

  “Victor Blue, Victor Blue, ur ye receiving, over?” The Sarge screamed intae the haunset, the cord ae the radio stretched tae its limit, as he ducked doon at the side ae the car, the thick cloud ae acrid black smoke whooshing past his heid through the car windae and exiting via the open passenger door oan the other side, before joining up wae the rest ae it skiting aff the roof.

  “Aye, Tam?”

  “Jimmy?” he screamed. “Jimmy, get a fire engine and an ambulance up here tae the cross, as in right away…and hurry the fuck up.”

  “Nae bother, Tam. It’s no another parked car been set alight again, is it?” the tired, bored voice at the other end crackled.

  “Naw…Ah think…Ah think it’s a person…a body.”

  “Eh?”

  “It looks like some poor basturt’s been tied tae a lamp post and set oan fire, so it dis,” The Sarge shouted, as his PC, a bit mair composed noo, stood up and started walking, slightly stooped o’er, towards the wee crowd, wae his erms stretched oot in front ae him, telling people tae move back. “Look, Ah’ll need tae go. Get that bloody fire engine and an ambulance up here quick. We need them the noo.”

  The Sarge quickly glanced doon at his watch. Ten tae three. Other than the wee group ae milling, hauf-cut onlookers, the area wis deserted at that time ae the morning, apart fae a rumbling lorry that hid jist appeared, its brakes hissing as it slowed doon tae a crawl, taking its time oan the way past the cross, as the driver stretched his neck across the passenger seat, taking in the awful scene.

  “Bobby! Bobby! Get names and addresses fae people. Don’t let anywan heid aff,” he shouted, turning tae the firestorm being whipped up by the wind.

  He cautiously skirted aff in the direction ae the memorial fountain, making sure he wis heidin away fae the wind, keeping tae the left ae the polis and phone boxes, away fae the smoke, trying tae take everything in.

  “Oh my fucking God!” he screamed in horror, being stoapped in his tracks, as wan ae the victim’s erms slowly raised itsel up, the haun seemingly trying tae reach fur its face. “Where the fuck is that fire engine?” he screamed, doubling up, backing away fae the heat, efter attempting tae get close tae the body.

  It hid been like a scene right oot ae Dante’s Inferno, he’d telt himsel later, efter being sent hame by his inspector. At first, he couldnae figure oot whit the strong chemical fumes wur, before he spotted the tin ae paint, lying oan its side, a few feet in front ae the burning victim. The side ae the tin nearest tae the flames wis awready blackened by the heat ae the fire. He could jist make oot, oan the good side, that it wis a gallon tin ae quality ICI Dulux Gloss paint. The burning liquid wis slowly oozing oot ae it oan tae the pavement like molten lava, the smoke fae it being sucked up by the bigger black cloud above and behind it. A couple ae feet tae the right, the roond lid wis sitting burning away oan its lonesome. He’d been in the force fur nineteen years. In aw that time, he’d stupidly believed that he’d seen everything…until then. He thought he’d come tae terms wae the depravity ae the job a long time ago. Bit this? This wis something else…this wis pure unadulterated evil, so it wis. He stood helplessly and stared at the victim, transfixed, his brain in meltdoon, cursing they fucking McGregors and wondering whit the hell he wis supposed tae dae next? Through the flames, he could jist make oot the wire wrapped roond the neck, haudin it fast tae the lamp post, the blackened, charcoal heid, slightly tilted forward. He then noticed that the same type ae wire wis wound roond the waist, while the victim’s knees wur slightly bent, the right leg turned inwards. The trunk ae the body wis held rigid, tightly attached tae the pole. Wis the haun that rose tae touch its face a reflex ae the heat ae the fire he wondered…hoped. Please God, don’t let me find oot the poor basturt wis still alive when they tipped the paint o’er him before setting him alight, he wis praying tae himsel, when the Jerry can, that he hidnae clocked up tae that point, which wis sitting oan the deck, hidden oot ae sight behind the lamp post, suddenly exploded, sending him tumbling backwards, jist as the blue lights and the sound ae the fire engine rumbled towards them alang Govan Road.

  Chapter Two

  “Right, whit the hell’s gaun oan, Silas?” Teddy Bare demanded tae know, jumping up aff ae that chair ae his, as soon as the brief darkened the door ae the stuffy interview room oan the second flair ae the gatehoose ae The Bar-L.

  “Aye, well, if ye’ll jist gie me a minute tae get ma coat aff, Teddy,” The brief sang, drapping his auld, cracked, heavy leather bag oan tae the table, as he proceeded tae unbutton his Gannex coat, before hinging it up oan the ancient coat stand that wis sitting in the corner, bolted tae the flair.

  “Will ye be okay, sir?” The screw asked him, trying tae measure the threat level fae the clearly agitated Elvis impersonator staunin there, wheezing like a collapsed lung.

  “Yes, yes, Ah’ll be okay, officer,” Silas Abraham reassured him as him and the screw baith looked at the untried prisoner. “Won’t Ah, Teddy?”

  “Christ, Ah’m no gonnae dae anything stupid, if that’s whit’s youse ur thinking,” the prisoner grumbled, spreading his hauns apart, sitting doon and looking glum.

  “Jist gie me a shout if ye need anything, sir,” The Screw said reassuringly, gieing the prisoner wan last cursory glance before he disappeared, shutting the door behind them.

  “So, whit’s happening then?”

  “Ah’m no sure,” The Brief replied, leaning forward and lifting a file fae his briefcase, no gieing his client eye contact, as he drapped the bag oan tae the flair underneath the table. “There’s been a wee hiccup.”

  “A hiccup? Whit’s that supposed tae mean? The other wans goat their indictments oan Christmas Day. Where the fuck’s mine?”

  “The other accused polismen ur up oan a different indictment tae you…separate charges, Teddy.”

  “Bit, we goat charged oan the same day. We should aw be heiding up tae the same High Court sitting, so we should.”

&nbs
p; “Look, don’t worry. They’ve decided tae relook at the charge…tae make sure that their original assessment ae the case satisfied the criteria. They’ve telt me that it won’t affect the start ae the trial.”

  “Satisfy the criteria? Bit, why?”

  “There wis an article…in The Glesga Echo, by some wee journalist…Pearl somebody. She’s new. Jist doon fae the Highlands, seemingly, and trying tae make a mark fur hersel. She claimed that some ae yer colleagues hiv been working behind the scenes tae get ye a reduced charge, so she did.”

  “Bit…”

  “And noo their reviewing their original decision…jist in case.”

  “Jist in case? Jist in case ae whit? Ye’re no bloody telling me that ma reduced charge ae culpable homicide isnae gonnae staun noo, ur ye?” Teddy Bare, ex personnel Polis inspector and Elvis impersonator extraordinaire stuttered incredulously, his face and that Elvis bop ae his visibly slumping. “Bit Ah thought we, you, hid an agreement?”

  “Ah’ve spoken tae Edward Wilson, the new Chief Procurator Fiscal in charge ae the service. He says that efter the article, the political fallout wis too much tae ignore, so there’s gonnae be another wee quick review ae the original charge…jist tae make sure everything’s hunky-dory. He disnae think there’ll be a problem. He’s getting wan ae his procurator fiscals tae go through the investigation file in the next day or two.”

  “Bit…”

  “Ah’ve also been reliably informed that there will be two sittings ae The High Court this coming month in Glesga, due tae the big company fraud case in the north court, so there will. Don’t you worry aboot a thing, Teddy. Ah’m oan the case. They still hiv tae get you up in front ae a judge and jury within a hunner and twelve days, so they hiv.”

  “Aye, bit, surely there’s no gonnae be an actual trial? Ah mean, ye’ve telt this Wilson wan that Ah’m prepared tae plead guilty tae a reduced charge, saving them a fortune?”

  “Aye. He fully understauns…”

  “And?”

  “Look, law isnae an exact science. It’s looking good fae where Ah’m sitting, so it is. Ah mean, even if it did go tae trial, it’s hardly likely that they’d find ye guilty ae murder.”

  “And The Crown witnesses?”

  “Still the same. A couple ae the neighbours gied a statement claiming that they heard you and yer wife arguing oan different occasions o’er the past few years. Two ae them claimed that they heard Lesley screaming as you assaulted her. Given that they wurnae there tae see whit wis gaun oan, their suppositions will be dismissed as hearsay.”

  “And ma work?”

  “At least wan ae yer female colleagues, Mrs Persil, who’s married tae a superintendent, claimed that Lesley turned up wae a black eye and bruises under her make-up oan occasion. Again, pure speculation as tae how she came tae be sporting a bruise,” The Brief reassured his client. “Ah watched wan ae they 50s jive cine-reels ye recommended. It’s quite clear that, wae aw that jumping and prancing aboot, that oan occasion, somewan could end up hurt…and bruised. Don’t worry.”

  “So, whit aboot oor side?”

  “Superintendent Jackson, Chief Inspector Mack, Inspector O’Donnell, Inspector Johnston and Sergeant Sally Burke hiv aw signed statements that oan numerous occasions o’er the past three years, they’ve hid tae counsel ye oan yer wife’s numerous infidelities, so they hiv. Sergeant Sally Burke’s brother, Sergeant Willie Burke his signed a statement that he, er…slept oan and aff wae yer wife o’er that same period. He’s also claimed that he heard stories fae other men that yer wife fooled aroond wae. According tae them, and other colleagues, er…Lesley hid a bit ae a reputation. Look, despite the humiliation, given that job ae yours, Jackson, Mack and the sister ae Willie Burke hiv aw stated that ye acted like a perfect gentleman, so they hiv. There’s no a court in the land wid convict ye, seeing as who yer character witnesses ur.”

  “Aye, bit they’ve been suspended. They’re aw under investigation themsels. Wid that no affect their reliability…as witnesses, Ah mean?”

  “Forget that. That info won’t be allowed tae be raised, should there be a trial…which Ah’m confident, there won’t be. They’re no the accused here. They’re jist there tae corroborate whit ye telt Inspector Thain and Sergeant Moffat, so they ur.”

  “Inspector…Sergeant?”

  “Aye, seemingly they’ve baith been promoted since yer arrest. Something tae dae wae experienced murder investigation officers being required across in the North, wae aw they gangland murders that wur raging back in October last year.”

  “Ah’m no happy, Silas. Ah’m bloody well innocent, so Ah am. That cow made me and ma boy’s lives a misery, so she did. Ah pleaded wae her, bit she widnae bloody listen. Her and that wee fucking hairy pal ae hers, Collette James, wur oot ae that door every Friday and Saturday night, up at The Majestic, Plaza or Barraland, getting shagged by everywan, while me and Teddy Junior hid tae sit at hame watching the clock, worried, waiting fur her tae appear at aw hours ae the day and night.”

  “Aye, well, ye won’t hiv tae worry aboot her pal. She’s been sectioned oot in Gartloch Psychiatric Hospital, so she his. It disnae look like she’ll be available, should there be a trial. Ah spoke tae Harry Ingram, yer temporary replacement. He sends his regards, by the way. He gied me access tae her personnel file…fur a few minutes oan the QT, like. It confirmed that she’s been hivving affairs wae different officers…colleagues, aff and oan fur a number ae years. She’s hid numerous warnings aboot her conduct in that regard. That’s another reason why Ah widnae think that the prosecution service wid want tae go tae trial. It’s aw there in her file. The wummin inspector…Thain? She acknowledged during the investigation that Collette James and yer wife wur the best ae pals. It’s aw corroborated as tae whit her and yer wife goat up tae, inside and ootside ae work, so it is. There’s only wan wee potential fly in the ointment though.”

  “Fly…ointment?”

  “There wis a letter… some sort ae a statement, fae an ex colleague…”

  “Pricilla Presley…or Jessie McBride, as she used tae be known,” The Prisoner cursed, screwing up his face. “She’s another fucking hairy marriage breaker, who shagged anything in a pair ae troosers back in the day, so she did. How her and ma Lesley goat in tow wae each other, Ah’ll never bloody know,” he lied.

  “Blackmail perhaps?”

  “Aye, that’s whit Ah’ve been thinking masel. As Ah’ve awready telt ye, Ah made the mistake ae gaun oot wae her a few times when she wis a WPC back in the early 60s. Pure psycho material. Widnae take a telling.”

  “Why did ye no mention that tae the two poliswummin when they questioned ye up at the flat and back at the station?”

  “Fur fuck’s sake, Silas, Ah wis too bloody traumatised, so Ah wis. Ah knew Lesley wis hurt bad efter Ah fought her aff, when she attacked me at the bedroom door. Christ, ma heid wis minced, so it wis.”

  “If…and only if…yer case did go tae trial, we’d soon demolish The Crown’s case. Everywan ye telt me tae talk tae…yer colleagues…aw knew fine well that ye wur under provocation seven days a week, Teddy. Christ, whit jury widnae hiv sympathy fur anywan…especially you being a respected polis inspector, hivving tae be constantly putting up wae that, while keeping the good citizens ae the city safe in their beds at night, eh?”

  “She…Lesley, kept threatening me that she wis gonnae take me tae the cleaners, so she did…the flat, ma pension…everything. Ah thought Ah wis gonnae hiv a nervous breakdoon, so Ah did. If it wisnae fur Teddy Junior, Ah wid’ve gone under long before Ah did. That sergeant Thain wan? Fucking lezzie bitch. It wis clear she hid a chip oan her shoulder…her and that DC ae hers. Telt me tae ma face that she didnae believe a bloody word Ah said. The cow kept telling me that she knew Ah wis a wife beater, so she did…and her a junior colleague tae boot.”

  “Ach, well, Ah widnae worry too much aboot that. Inspector Thain’s seemingly interviewed Mrs Presley. She’s refused tae co-operate.”

  “See? Ah telt ye. Total psycho.
Stirs it up and then fucks aff wance the damage his been done.”

  “Anyway, there is some good news. Ah’ve managed tae get wan ae the best QCs in the toon,” The Brief announced, smiling.

  “Oh?”

  “John Howdy”

  “Fae Barker and Howdy Associates?”

  “The same.”

  “Whit, and he’s confirmed he’ll represent me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Bit, Ah heard The Stalker tell McGovern that his brief is trying tae get Howdy or that partner ae his tae defend him. Whit happens if ma trial’s gaun oan at the same time as his? Will that no be a problem?”

  “Naw. That won’t happen. A shouldnae really be saying this, bit a wee bird his telt me that his trial wae the gangsters, is the first wan up oan the second sitting, starting oan Friday the 13th ae February. Your indictment, if it dis go tae trial, will probably start oan the Monday ae the same week and will only last two days max, due tae the number ae trials gaun oan jist noo. The big fraud case in the north court isnae expected tae finish until the middle ae March at the earliest, so it only leaves the south court operational fur the other trials.”

  “We cannae allow this tae go before a jury, Silas. Ah’m depending oan you…so is Teddy Junior.

  “Ah’ve telt ye, Teddy, that won’t happen. There’s no way…Ah’m ninety nine point nine percent certain that that won’t happen. Even if it dis, ye’ve goat wan ae the best QCs in the business, so ye hiv. He isnae cheap, bit Legal Aid will cover the costs and…” The Brief cooed confidently, lowering his voice before turning roond tae glance at the wee glass panel in the door. “Look, Ah shouldnae really be divulging this, bit another wee bird also telt me last night that Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie ur retaining their services fur their ain trial as well, so they ur.”

  “Christ,” The Prisoner muttered, impressed.

  “Aye, if Barker and Howdy Associates ur good enough fur the two biggest gangsters in the toon, then they’re certainly good enough fur you, Teddy boy. Believe you me, that pair won’t qualify fur Legal Aid either. They’ll be paying up front, so they will. See? Things don’t seem quite as bad as they did when Ah first arrived. Jist don’t mention whit Ah’ve telt ye tae yer pal McGovern,” he said, nodding at the wall tae the right ae them.