2007 - A tale etched in blood and hard black pencel (37 page)

“Until another party declared an interest,” Karen suggests.

“Aye,” he confirms grimly, “Johnny Turner. Although I didnae know right away it was Johnny Turner. Folk were getting leaned on in various ways. I won’t name names, but I’m pretty sure money changed hands in some cases. In others the incentive was staying out of the Royal Alexandra. Johnny Turner knows some bad, bad people. Jimmy Meechan’s mob. But then, you know all that.”

“All too well. Were you intimidated personally?”

McGeechy looks involuntarily around himself, like he’s scared of being overheard. That’s a yes before he even speaks. “I’m just a fuckin town planner. I didn’t want my fuckin legs broken.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“See above.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway, it was when word started getting about that the application would be rejected that Colin played his ace. He let me know the footage would be freely copied and passed around if I didnae swing the application back his way. The phrase he used, which I have no difficulty in recollecting, was that ‘half of Renfrewshire is gaunny be wankin themselves or pishin themselves’.”

“Charming. But you’re only one guy. Turner had nobbled a few people on the committee, you just said.”

“That’s what I tried to tell Colin. That was my problem, he told me right back. He knew how these things work. If you make one person desperate enough, they can prevail upon the rest. Obviously the rest were reluctant to cross Johnny Turner, but Colin said he could guarantee Turner would be oot the equation if permission was granted.”

“What did he mean?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“Didn’t you want a bit more assurance before you put yourself on a collision course with Johnny Turner?”

“I considered that the lesser of two evils. I’d have taken the broken legs before I let that fuckin video get out.”

“Sure. Can’t envisage it enhancing your political career very much.”

“Not unless you’re Cicciolina,” Tom suggests.

“And I guess your wife wouldnae be too pleased, either.”

“Well, for Christ’s sake, that’s who I was trying to protect. I don’t even like to think what this would do to her.”

“Maybe you should have thought about it a bit more back then,” says Karen.

“Who thinks about stuff like this, for fuck’s sake?” McGeechy volubly protests, more resembling the volcanically indignant boy she remembers. “Christ, have you actually watched the fuckin thing?”

“I did you the courtesy of looking only at as much as was necessary to know we had the right DVD. We’ll only watch more if there’s any information you don’t give us. Such as who was the girl?”

“Who was the…? Christ, don’t you fuckin eejits get it? There
was
no girl. It was my
wife
.”

There is a reeling silence for a moment as Karen and Tom take this one in. Fortunately, the more familiarly fired-up McGeechy is determined to fill it.

“Do you think if I was havin it away with somebody, I’d do it five miles up the road in a place belongin tae somebody as lewd and sleazy as Colin fuckin Temple? It was just meant tae be a quiet wee night away at a time we were both feelin a bit snowed-under with the January blues.”

“But if that’s the case, then Temple’s the one who would be liable to prosecution if this video emerged.”

“It was his zero option,” McGeechy says. “You know the situation he was in financially. So basically he was saying that if he ended up fucked, he was fucking us too, so I’d better make sure it never came to that.”

“But if you were the ones who were violated by this,” Karen begins, but does not get any further before McGeechy blusters over her.

“Look, being the victim doesnae save you in politics. Embarrassment is poison, no matter how little it’s your fault. But I couldn’t care less aboot that. It was my wife. She’s a primary-school teacher, for fuck’s sake. School boards are even less forgiving than voters. “Yes, tough break, Mrs McGeechy, not your fault,
but
…” And Christ, if you knew what the job meant to her. She didn’t do that well in school, didn’t make the most of herself. Ended up with a bad crowd. But by the time I started going out with her, she had become determined to clean up her act. She went to night school and got her Highers, then after we got married six years back, I paid the way so she could give up work and go to teacher-training college. Her job means everything,” he implores. “Do you understand?”

Karen nods, saying nothing for a moment to let the temperature cool. “What’s her name?” she asks softly, having let the silence grow long enough.

“Anna,” he replies, clearing his throat before he speaks, attempting to regain his composure. Despite pulling himself together, and despite the pause Karen granted him, he looks less certain of himself than ever.

“Anna what?”

“McGeechy. She took my name.”

“I meant what was her maiden name? Did she go to our school?”

“She was a couple of years below. You wouldn’t have known her.”

“What was her name anyway?”

“Logue.”

Karen casts her mind back. He’s right. She didn’t know the girl, but she does remember the name. More importantly, she also remembers why. “So what happened next?” she asks. “What did you do?”

“I moved mountains,” he says. “I lobbied, I hustled, I threatened, I sweated blood. Short version: I turned the committee around. Unfortunately, this didnae take long in gettin back to Johnny Turner, who was, it would be fair to say, somewhat disappointed.”

“I’ll bet. What did he do in response?”

“Had me bundled into a car one night and dragged oot to the middle of nowhere for a wee chat. Tea and crumpets, you know the kind of thing,” he says bitterly, his mouth trembling slightly as he speaks. Not a favourite memory. “Prior to that, I had no idea how much pain can be inflicted on parts of the human body withoot leavin a mark. Turner guessed Temple had something on me, some leverage, and he made me tell him what it was. I could tell he understood that Colin’s threat was greater than his, because it affected more than just me. I said if he could guarantee that the video disappeared, I’d make sure the application sank.”

“When exactly was this?” Tom asks.

“Couple of weeks ago. I never heard anythin for a few days and started to get really worried, because I realised there was a big hole in my deal. If he got hold of just one copy of the DVD and released it to the right people, he could have torpedoed the rezoning application in one blow. I’d be fatally compromised as head of the committee, and Colin would be facin prosecution. But I was wrong. Guys like Turner always see a bigger picture. He also saw a bigger flaw.”

“Which was what?”

“There was no way of knowing how many copies existed, and Colin only needed to hang on to one.”

“And what was the bigger picture?”

“A very dirty one. Turner called me up last Sunday and said he had it all sorted. I asked when I’d be getting my DVDs, which was when he told me I wouldn’t, and why. But he said he could guarantee Colin would be keepin them to himself.”

“How?”

“He put a few things together. Reckoned Colin wouldnae have fitted all that kit just to snare me, and that he wouldnae be using it just for his own amusement. He got someone to do a bit of diggin on the internet and it turns oot Colin’s been floggin this footage to a porn outfit in America.”

“Online feeds?” Tom asks. “Hell of a risk in the global village.”

“No,” McGeechy says. “Voyeur DVDs, sold mail-order, and only shipping within the US, so there was little chance of some bloke in Paisley loggin on to a porn site and seein himself in action.”

“AmberCorp,” says Karen.

“What?”

“He received payments in US dollars from a firm called AmberCorp.”

“Well, I doubt Turner knew that part, but he knew enough to put Colin in jail and see him sued from arsehole to Elderslie. Turner was using this to get him to drop the rezoning application, and to agree to sell the hotel to him—at a pretty fuckin preferential rate, I’d guess. Plus, of course, to keep me onside, Turner said he’d let Colin know that if my DVD ever saw the light of day, then so would everybody else’s.”

“So Turner had already informed Temple he knew all this?” Karen asks.

“Aye. He said he had broken the bad news, and they were meeting in a couple of days so Colin could put pen to paper. Next I heard about either of them, they were both dead.”

§

The DJ’s just put on
One Step Beyond
, but Noodsy practically has to drag Turbo up to join in. Normally he’d be first out there and going pure mental, but he’s not himself the night. Or more like he is himself, as in himself from a few years back: the old Robbie. He keeps drifting off into a dwam, getting that cold look in his eyes, anger and hate, thon psycho way he used to be all the time. It was the glue that did it, Noodsy knows. Not the glue that put him in hospital, the glue that was put in his bag this afternoon, in front of everybody. That was fucking sick.

Noodsy doesn’t know who done it—he was busy with a wee bit of business of his own during science today—but he knows it wasn’t something that was done for a laugh, which just went too far or got took the wrong way. It was meant to be vicious. Everybody knows Turbo could have died, and you don’t fucking joke about that. Not that way, anyroads. Noodsy can imagine somebody like Kenny Langton mentioning it in a funny way to make light of it and cheer Turbo up, but that’s not what this was about. This was done to make everybody
but
Turbo laugh, and it was done anonymously.

Normally with pranks like that, half the laugh is in everybody knowing what’s coming, so most of the guys are in on it. Noodsy doesn’t believe that could have been the case today, because there’s no way Kenny would have let it happen if he knew. So some bastard did it purely for spite, but Noodsy can’t work out who. Turbo’s made no shortage of enemies in his time, Noodsy among them, but he’s never been quite the same since Tempo battered him, and that was nearly two years back. You’d think if somebody hated him that much, he’d have done something about it before now, and to his face. Noodsy supposes the person with the best idea who did it is Turbo, but he doesn’t want to ask. Like the glue-sniffing itself, it feels wrong to bring it up, like picking somebody else’s scab.

Turbo perks up a bit once he starts cutting about the dance floor, which is just as well, as Noodsy reckons it’s important that they both get noticed. Turbo’s at his best when you keep him busy, keep him involved in stuff. It’s when he’s idle he’s most in danger of getting thon broody way, and that’s when the old Robbie threatens to make a reappearance. Noodsy puts the tip of his thumb in his mouth and mimes playing a sax, like he does when they’re listening to this song at his hoose. Turbo responds like he hoped, kidding on he’s playing a trumpet. Then they do that thing from the Madness videos where the boy with the sax ducks just as the one with the trumpet swings it round over his heid. Mr Kerr, the geography teacher, clocks them doing it and has a laugh.

Result.

The song ends and some other shite comes on, gets all the trendy crowd up. Noodsy feels butterflies in his belly. It’s an exciting night, one he’s been looking forward to. There’s a buzz about the place. Everybody checking out everybody else. A lot of the lassies are looking really nice, some you really wouldn’t be expecting to, either. Tico and Aldo and K-9 and that lot are kitted out flash, as you’d imagine. They’re dancing with lassies, lucky bastards, trying to make out they’re dead cool about it, but they’ll be having butterflies as well, hoping they can get off with somebody later.

Big Temps was dancing with that lot earlier, but now he’s dancing with Eleanor. She’s a lot different these days. You’d hardly recognise her from what she used to be like, apart from the scowl. In fact, you’d hardly recognise her tonight from what she looked like in class earlier on. There’s some lassies at the disco you can tell only get done up with make-up and that for occasions like this, but others look so comfortable in their glad rags that you can hardly picture them back in their uniforms. Eleanor’s one of the latter. To say she’s cleaned up her act would be the understatement of the year. No more Smelly Elly, no more greasy hair and clothes that never saw the inside of a washing machine.

This transformation has come about, according to Noodsy’s maw, ‘since she became auld enough to look after hersel—because her mammy never did’. Noodsy’s maw has told him a few things he wishes he’d known before, because now he feels a bit guilty about how everybody carried on. Eleanor’s maw’s an alky. Eleanor’s da just walked out on them when she was a baby. That’s how the Fenwicks were always skint. Mrs Eenwick’s ‘a deid loss, poor soul’, Noodsy’s maw says. “There’s been other men aboot the hoose, but maistly neerdowells.”

Eleanor works weekends at the frozen-food place in Nether Carnock, stocking freezers and mopping floors. That’s where Noodsy and his maw saw her recently, and what prompted these wee, belated revelations. “Pulling hersel up by the bootstraps, that lassie,” said his maw.

But not everybody is as charitable or admiring about her as Noodsy’s maw. Folk don’t like to let you live down your past too easily round here, and while Eleanor might look different, there’s plenty of folk still look at her like she’s shite off their shoe. Tempo isn’t up dancing with her because of any romantic shite. See, Eleanor hangs about with a lot of older guys and the rumour is she’s been shagged off some of them. That’s why Tempo’s turning on the charm—he’ll be hoping for a wee bit more than any of Jojo’s pals would let him away with.

Noodsy knows he’s got no chance for a couple of years yet when it comes to that game, but he’s got his sights set on scoring tonight just the same.

§

“Quite the little chatterbox this time around, wasn’t he?” Tom observes dryly as they watch McGeechy make his way out to a waiting unmarked car.

“Obviously a morning person,” Karen replies. “And a sharp one, too. He talked plenty, but on the whole he didn’t tell us anything he knew we couldn’t deduce now that we’re aware of the video and how Colin made it.”

“You think he’s still holding back?”