Kingston Bridge Page 14

  “Tickets, please…tickets, please,” the conductor sang, coming towards her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Edward Wilson, the heid ae the service, hidnae kept her waiting, which hid been unusual. It hid been an in-and-oot job that hid barely lasted a couple ae minutes before she wis telt tae get oan wae it. And noo, here she wis still, three hours later, sitting in her office, in whit her colleagues and her referred tae as the ‘The Warren,’ efter completing the corrections tae her notes. Other than it wis her name stuck up oan the door, her cubby-hole wis indistinguishable fae the rest ae the eighteen cells that ran the length ae that side ae the building. At least she knew whit it felt like tae be confined tae a cell, day in and day oot, when she wisnae touring the district courts, trying tae look happy and contented wae her lot. Before meeting her boss earlier, she hidnae seen the latest screaming heidlines in The Glesga Echo fae that young journalist who’d been trying tae get in tae see her o’er the past week. Nowan wis allowed tae darken the hallowed palatial office at the far end ae The Warren until he’d hid his two slices ae toast and a wee swatch ae the morning papers tae see if there wis anything in them that could undermine the smooth running ae the service, although everywan knew fine well that his first port ae call wis the Green Fingers Section. Her anxiety hid increased when she’d noticed that his toast wis sitting there untouched, a clear sign that something hid been bothering him. Like a lot ae others in the Procurator Fiscal service, especially at that senior management level, he came across as a bit pompous and bumbling…it went wae the territory, she supposed. The bumbling wis meant tae fool the unsuspecting, like the cooncillors who wur members ae the polis board, roond in George Square, bit he wis a shifty, slippery eel and needed watching like a hawk. Nowan reached that lofty position ae his by genuinely hivving the mannerisms ae a sheep. Under that fluffy wool, there wis a wolf, watching whit wis gaun oan, ready tae jump in and tear anywan apart that transgressed anywhere near his territory. Seemingly, he hidnae always been a shitehoose, hivving come up through the ranks oot in West Dunbartonshire. Apparently, that hid aw changed efter his younger brother ran aff wae that younger wife ae his. She’d also heard, so the legend went, that everything they owned wis in her name and that she’d taken the lot. Apart fae dealing wae the deluge ae crap that streamed intae the service fae The Crown Office in Edinburgh and Police HQ in the toon, his main issue since his appointment back in October hid been the weeding oot ae anywan wae even a whiff ae corruption attached tae them. Two ae her aulder, inherited Justice ae the Peaces hid been encouraged tae leave the district courts across in Govan within weeks ae his appointment. Early retirement, they’d claimed miserably at their leaving bash. Said they wur looking forward tae spending mair time in their gardens…even though wan ae them hid since died ae a heart attack, efter being questioned at hame in relation tae some discovered association wae The McGregors. So, why hid he chosen her? He knew fine well that she wis in the middle ae the corrupt JP investigation across in Partick. She’d stupidly assumed that he wis looking fur an update. It hid been the ‘Jist go straight in’ fae his PA, who’d sat there stiffly, like Helen ae Troy, ootside his office door, that hid alerted her that she wis either in trouble or something hid happened.

  “Ah, Glenda. Just the person,” he’d said in welcome o’er his auld fashioned pince-nez spectacles.

  “You wanted a word, sir?”

  “Yes. Something’s come up that requires our, your, immediate attention. Teddy Bare?” he’d asked, raising wan ae they bushy eyebrows ae his, the second time that Bare’s name hid come up that morning.

  “The inspector on remand for, er…”

  “Exactly, Glenda. Was it murder? I need you to go over the files, particularly the police investigation, and our decision regarding the charge. It requires a careful, but speedy review. You’ve got three days.”

  “But, er, I’m already…”

  “This takes priority, I’m afraid, Glenda. There’s political ramifications in there for the service, as well as for our hard-pressed senior colleagues along in St Andrew Square. Have a look. If the culpable homicide charge is still appropriate, fine. If not, then amend the indictment. Bare’s solicitor, Silas Abraham, has been harassing us incessantly for his client’s indictment…Oh, and I’ve transferred your JP investigation in Partick across to James Robertson. I’ll explain my reasons later. In the meantime, this takes priority.

  James Robertson…James Bloody Robertson? He wis worse than useless. Lost an average ae two oot ae every five cases that he’d been prosecuting the past two years oan the trot. Her heid hid been spinning fur o’er an hour efter Robertson hid turned up looking fur the file. If ye wur tae look up the true meaning ae bumbling in the Oxford Dictionary, then Robertson’s name wid appear. He wis the real deal. She’d let Ann handle it as she couldnae bring hersel tae haun aw her good investigative work across tae him in person. She’d then spent the next couple ae hours going o’er the Lesley Bare murder enquiry evidence. The investigating officer, Wilma Thain, fae the south’s murder squad, hid done a thorough job…up to a point, before arguing, correctly in this case, fur a murder charge tae be levelled at the victim’s husband, Teddy Bare. Her argument, backed up by evidence in the form ae a typewritten statement fae a Pricilla Presley, that Bare hid deliberately murdered his wife tae silence her, hid traction tae it. The fact that this Mrs Presley wisnae wanting tae pursue her allegation ae sexual assault against Bare while they’d worked thegither back in the early 1960s, wis neither here nor there. Tae be fair, there wur holes in Sergeant, naw, Inspector Thain’s collation ae the evidence, bit the fingerprints ae tampering fae ootside sources wur aw o’er it. Gaun by whit she’d read, if Inspector Thain hidnae recommended a murder charge, she wid’ve hid her investigated while she wis at it. Tae the casual observer, everything looked tae be hunky-dory, bit where wis the detailed investigative legwork? Why hid Teddy Bare’s working practices and associations wae other senior polisman o’er the years no been pursued as a result ae Mrs Presley’s allegation? Also, why hid the inspector no pursued the other ex-poliswummin mair aggressively, in order tae change their minds aboot resubmitting fresh statements ae hivving been sexually assaulted, the same as Pricilla Presley hid? At first, she wondered if Inspector Thain hid been goat at and ordered tae back aff? The file that hid been haunded o’er tae the Procurator Fiscal’s Office hid recommended a reduced charge. Hivving read the case notes, it wid’ve been obvious tae a blind man that that certainly wisnae whit the inspector hid believed or hid wanted. Another bad smell that hid been brought tae her attention fur the second time that morning, hid been Pearl Campbell, the journalist fae The Glesga Echo. She’d searched through Inspector Thain’s notes twice, bit the only reference that hid caught her eye hid been a slip ae paper wae the journalist’s name circled oan it. Underneath the name, the words ‘Trouble’ and ‘Fucking Lying Wee Bitch’ hid been scrawled in capital letters. Campbell must’ve really upset her, Glenda reckoned, as she could see where the lead in the inspector’s pencil hid snapped oan the last letter ae the word ‘Bitch.’ She’d asked Ann, The Warren secretary, tae get her aw references tae the Bare case fae their Glesga Echo back issues. It hid soon become evident that Pearl Campbell wis aggressively pursuing the procurator service fur a murder charge against Bare, even though the reduced charge hidnae been made public. It wis also clear that Campbell hid insider information. She supposed the obvious question wis why a journalist fae the world’s worst newspaper wis getting hersel so hot under the collar o’er whit appeared tae be a domestic killing? Christ, domestic murders wur ten, naw, twenty a penny in the toon. The newspapers, including Campbell’s ain wan, never reported oan them. Of course, the unusual aspect tae the case wis that the victim wis a serving poliswummin and the perpetrator, her man, wis a polis inspector. That in itsel wis newsworthy, bit in amongst whit hid been happening in the toon at the time? The shooting deid ae a polis inspector, the arrest ae two ae the city’s maist notorious gangsters alongside three corrupt polismen
and the assassination ae Glesga’s biggest moneylender, aw oan the same day, no tae mention the two black butcher gangsters and the wife ae wan ae them, also murdered soon efter. Graham hid mentioned that Pearl Campbell hid information that could possibly overturn the culpable homicide charge. Who wis Pearl Campbell and where hid she come fae? Also, mair importantly, who the hell wis pulling her strings? Wid the information that Graham claimed she hid, really confirm that there wis a possibility ae a wider conspiracy oan the go? She hid tae be very careful. This wis Glesga. She’d learned long ago, tae her cost, that nothing wis ever quite whit it seemed. Edward Wilson alone hid taken the decision tae charge Bare wae culpable homicide, bit wis noo wanting the charge reviewed. He hid the final say oan aw murder raps gaun forward tae The Crown. Why the sudden change ae heart? It wisnae like him. She’d studied his pencilled scribbled notes in the margins beside the original papers that hid led tae a reduced charge indictment. He’d written ‘costs’ in the margin and ‘star witness unavailable due tae hospital incarceration.’ In another margin, he’d also noted doon that ‘Murder charge wouldn’t stand up to aggressive challenge.’ So, whit hid led him tae change his mind and ask her tae review it? Obviously, Pearl Campbell’s front page heidline oan Christmas Eve, wae her reference tae him, hid rocked a few boats within the establishment, including his. Her front page heidline in that morning’s Glesga Echo, highlighting the fact that Shaun Murphy hid been stabbed as opposed tae being shot, as everywan, including her, hid always believed, hid awready caused ructions roond in The Kremlin oan George Square. Christ, even she’d broken oot in a cauld sweat efter reading Campbell’s piece. The Stalker’s notebook wis the reason she wis languishing where she wis noo, in the district courts. She felt ill, jist thinking aboot it. If she wisnae a prosecutor, she wid’ve probably agreed wae The Glesga Echo’s Opinion column oan page five, that boldly stated that the case against Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie, alang wae the other two corrupt polismen left staunin, hid collapsed. She’d first met Superintendent Murdina Munro, who everywan in the toon referred tae as Cleopatra, at a FBI forensic seminar across at Glesga University a year or so earlier. She wisnae calling hersel Munro back then. She couldnae remember whit name she’d introduced hersel wae, as she’d been working undercover at the time, bit she’d taken a keen interest in whit she’d been up tae ever since. Although their paths hidnae crossed professionally since then, she’d watched fae a distance, as the strange-looking superintendent wiped oot aw the opposition in the toon. Despite the revelation by Pearl Campbell as tae how Shaun Murphy hid died, surely the murder charge against the two gangsters and the two surviving polismen wurnae gonnae be drapped? If they wur, then heids wid roll. It hid been Cleopatra and her wee team ae foxes, or Skulks, as she called them, that hid brought Broon, Hastie, The Gruesome Twosome and The Stalker doon. Surely she widnae hiv been caught oot by something as devastating as the discovery ae Shaun Murphy’s body, wid she? She glanced doon at the file in front ae her. No only did it look fishy, bit it reeked ae it as well. She hid a bad feeling aboot the task in haun. There wur too many ifs and buts. Campbell hid claimed, through her Christmas Eve article, withoot a shred ae evidence, that senior officers within Strathclyde Polis, hid been actively trying tae influence the ootcome ae the investigation, behind the scenes. She wisnae as naïve as tae believe that something like that widnae happen in a place like Glesga. Everywan knew fine well the force wis rotten tae the core, bit the facts spoke fur themsels. Fae whit she’d jist read in the file, the charge ae murder wid’ve been the proper wan…if…the star witness, Sergeant Collette James, wisnae in hospital, other witnesses associated wae the case, such as the ex WPCs hid agreed tae make fresh statements and last bit no least, the High Court lists wurnae jam packed wae serious ootstanding cases, waiting tae be heard. This wis due tae the north court in the High Court being tied up by the big fraud case that wisnae expected tae be concluded until some time in March. Aw the ingredients fur a reduced charge wur there, if she wis honest wae hersel. She’d been there and wid’ve probably come up wae the same conclusion as that boss ae hers…or wid she hiv? Before she could answer, the telephone buzzer oan her desk interrupted her thought process.

  “She’s here, Miss Metcalfe. Will Ah bring her alang?”

  “Yes, that will be fine, Ann,” she replied, taking a deep breath, as she looked up fae her desk, listening tae the clicking heels traversing the shiny broon lino ae The Warren corridor, before the creaking hinges ae her office door swung open and the worried-looking poliswummin entered. “Inspector Thain? Thanks for coming down to meet with me at such a short notice.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Ye’re back?” Jean said, looking up at her boss, who wis bent o’er double by the door, shaking the droplets ae rainwater oot ae her hair, before heidin across tae her desk. “So, how did ye get oan?”

  “Ah’m no sure…at least Ah didnae get arrested.”

  “Aye, well, Ah widnae get too comfortable.”

  “Why?”

  “You, Ah mean us. We’ve goat a couple ae visitors. Fae the south’s murder squad”

  “Who?”

  “Tiny McCall and Buster McQueen.”

  “Ach, you’re at it, so ye ur.”

  “Ah’m telling ye. They’re sitting through in the canteen waiting fur ye tae arrive. And ye’ll never guess whit? They’ve been promoted…well, acting up, since oor hasty departure.”

  “Whit the hell ur they daeing across here in Gairbraid Avenue? Did they say?”

  “Listen, Ah hid tae show the basturts ma new stripes before they’d talk tae me, the pair ae plonkers.”

  “You better no be at it, Jean. Ah’m no in the mood, so Ah’m no,” Wilma warned her, dabbing her wet hair wae a dishtowel efter smelling it tae see if it wis okay.

  “Hellorerr, Wilma, how’s yer doos?” Acting Inspector Tiny McCall hailed fae the doorway, as his acting sergeant, Buster McQueen, brought up the rear.

  “Ach, whit ur youse pair a chancers efter? Ah thought we wur shot ae youse fur good.”

  “See, Buster, Ah telt ye she’d be glad tae see us. So, where kin we go and hiv a wee chinwag then?”

  “Pull o’er a couple ae chairs,” Wilma motioned wae a wave ae her haun tae the empty desks across fae them. “Ah’ll need tae nip alang tae the lavvy tae powder ma puff.”

  “Aw naw, ye don’t. Naw, naw, ye’re no pulling that fast wan again. The last time ye done that, it took us three days tae catch up wae ye.”

  “Eh?”

  “Getting that big glaikit desk sergeant tae phone through and say ye wur wanted oot at the front desk. Remember?”

  “Aye, they fell fur that wan. Remember, Wilma?” Jean asked her, as the pair ae them laughed.

  “Hoi, short arse, who asked you tae butt in?”

  “This is oor nick. Ye don’t talk tae us like that anymair. Any cheek and the pair ae youse will be oot oan yer arses,” Jean retorted, gieing him two fingers wae baith hauns.

  “Aye, you tell them, Jean,” Wilma said encouragingly, as the baith ae them cackled.

  “They’re like the fucking chuckle twins, sitting there, so they ur,” Buster scowled, smiling.

  “Right, is there somewhere cosy aboot here where we kin go, withoot being disturbed fur aboot an hour?”

  “Jean?”

  “Ah’ve awready booked interview room three.”

  “Interview room? Ah wis thinking aboot the pub. How aboot The International?”

  “Naw. Ah’m up tae ma eyebrows, so Ah am. It’s room three or nothing.”

  “Right, well hurry up then, Wilma, fur fuck’s sake. We kin maybe cut it doon tae hauf an hour if youse don’t keep interrupting every two minutes,” McCall growled.

  “Right, whit is it? And remember, any cheek and youse ur getting evicted,” Wilma warned them, arriving a few minutes later.