Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1 (46 page)

  “Ye’ll probably never understaun whit this means tae me and aw the other doo men in Scotland, son…thanks.”

  “Ye’re welcome.”

  “Right, here’s yer dosh. There’s twenty five quid in ten bob and wan pound notes. The rest is in pennies, thrupennies, bob, two bob and hauf croon pieces. Tell that big skinny boy Ah’m sorry aboot the confusion up at The Atholl.”

  “Nae problem. See ye.”

10.20 P.M.

“Noo, listen up everywan.  Ah want ye tae gie Sarah May and The Cowpokes a big haun fur an amazing evening ae music doon here in The McAslin Bar in sunny Toonheid,” Kirsty shouted intae the microphone, through the thick blue fag smoke and above the noise ae cheering drunks.  “And gie a further big haun tae Pat Molloy fur making it aw happen. Hiv a safe journey hame. Good night.”

  “Aw, Pat, gie’s a big kiss, son,” Fat Sally Sally drooled, grabbing The Big Man by wan ae his lapels as she clung oan tae her good tranny wae her other haun. “That wis wan ae the best nights Ah’ve hid in ma whole life, so it wis.”

  “Aw, ye’re welcome, Sally.  You tae, Sister…Ah hope ye enjoyed it as well.”

  “Sure, she had a voice of an angel, that girl did. Wonderful, just wonderful,” Sister Flog slurred.

  “G’night, Pat,” people kept saying in the passing, heiding through the swing doors.

  “Aye, see ye, John.”

  “Tell me, Pat, where did that big handsome man get the nickname ‘The Goat’ from?” asked Sister Flog.

  Jist then, somewan staggered through the swing doors, revealing The Goat punching a bald guy in the mooth, who went doon like a sack ae totties.

  “Goat ye!” said The Goat.

  The Big Man looked at the Christians wae a wee apologetic smile.

10.45 P.M.

  “Right, Pat, that’s me offskie,” Kirsty said, putting oan her coat.

  “Kirsty, the band wur first class. Honest, Ah couldnae hiv asked fur better. If they brothers ae yers wid only change their names, they could go far in the music business.”

  “Aye, the record company guys liked them as well.”

  “Tell that Sarah Todd…the pie flinger…that if she ever wants a stint doon in The Capstan Club, she’s only tae ask, bit there will be nae pies oan the menu that night. And oan that happy note, Ah’ll see ye oan Monday then.”

  “Pat, don’t mess aboot. Haun it o’er.”

  “Whit?”

  “Ye know whit.”

  “Oh, aye, the ransom. Here ye go, hen,” he said, taking oot the envelope fae his inside pocket and haunin it o’er.

  “Dae Ah need tae embarrass ye by coonting it in front ae ye?”

  “Naw, and ye’ll find a wee bonus in there fur aw yer hard work.”

  “Aw, thanks, Pat. Listen, Ah wis gonnae leave it until Monday, bit Ah may as well tell ye the noo.”

  ”Whit?”

  “Bad Tidings offered us a wan LP record deal.”

  “Us?”

  “The group that Ah put thegither and noo manage.”

  “Ah widnae trust they vultures. If ye knew whit Ah knew aboot them, ye’d stay well clear.”

  “Aye, Ah telt them Ah wisnae interested.”

  “See, ye’ve goat a brain, efter aw.”

  “Aye, bit Going Fur A Song came up wae a better offer.”

  “They thieving basturts? Another two-bit bunch ae charmers, so they ur. They’re run by a big prick called Dandy Thompson. Wid steal the eyes oot ae yer granny’s heid, that wan. The last time Ah dealt wae him, Ah ended up punching his lights oot fur his cheek, the bampot.”

  “Aye, well, don’t worry oan that score.  Efter thinking aboot it fur a couple ae minutes, Ah telt them Ah wisnae interested in their offer either,” Kirsty said, laughing.

  “Kirsty, ye did the right thing, hen. Aw these record company hyenas don’t gie a shit.  Ye stick wae me…at least ye’ll be guaranteed a wage packet at the end ae the week, wae job prospects.”

  “Aye, it wis Transatlantic that came up wae the goods.”

  “Eh?  How dae ye mean?”

  “They offered us a three LP deal, re-negotiable efter each record is produced and released...”

  “Aye, that’s their ‘get oot quick’ clause, the fly basturts.”

  “...and fifteen hunner up front tae sign oan the dotted line.”

  Silence.

  “Ah hivnae heard ae them. Ah hope ye didnae accept it, did ye?” The Big Man finally said, looking at her.

  “Well, Ah put the group thegither. They’ve knocked their pans in tae put that set thegither that ye heard the night. They’re the first wans that Ah kin remember who’ve ever put their trust in me, hid faith when Ah telt them that everything wid be awright oan the night. This wis an opportunity fur me tae apply ma skills tae dae something that wis appreciated. Ye saw the reaction ae the crowd. It felt good, making people happy, supporting people who hid confidence in me…people who put their trust in me.”

  “Kirsty, Kirsty, Ah hear whit ye’re saying, hen. Ye’ve a right tae feel good fur aw the hard work ye’ve put intae making the night the success that it wis, bit the morra is a brand new day and we’ve goat a good future aheid ae us…you and me.”

  “How dae ye mean?”

  “Ah wis gonnae leave it till Monday before Ah said, bit seeing as we’re hivving this conversation the noo, Ah want ye tae take o’er as hostess ae The Capstan Club, starting next Friday night.”

  “Oh shite!”

Chapter Forty Nine

Sunday 8.30 A.M.

  “Ah don’t think he’s goat long noo, Mr Murphy,” the wee nurse, wae the nice paps peeping oot ae her uniform, whispered.

  Shaun looked at The Big Man oan the bed. He hid wires coming oot fae aw o’er him. The pinging sound ae the pulse fae the heart monitor machine wis getting
slower and weaker. The Big Man wis struggling, bit still managed tae open wan ae they bloodshot eyes ae his. It wis quite obvious tae Shaun that he wis weak wae exhaustion and wis fading fast. He managed tae motion Shaun tae come closer. Shaun might no hiv noticed the erm movement, as he wis trying tae get the wee nurse tae come oot wae him oan a date that night, bit The Big Man managed tae lift his erm up aff the bed wae his middle finger ramrod straight and gasped, “Ye’re The Big Man noo, Shaun.”

  The bleep fae the machine wis suddenly replaced by a shrill alarm bell that wid’ve wakened the deid.

  “Whit the fu...” Shaun spluttered, jist managing tae open they eyelids ae his withoot his eyelashes being ripped aff as he forced his dry, dehydrated eyes open.

  He wisnae too sure where the fuck he wis, as his heid and heart wur pounding oot ae step wae wan another.

  “Aw, God,” he groaned, fumbling fur the alarm clock beside the bed and managing tae find it first time, fur a change.

  He forced his eyes tae focus oan the dial.  It wis bang oan hauf eight.  Mickey Moose wis staunin oan the second haun wae a grin oan his mug, tick-tocking roond the numbers. He shook it, and looked again. The ringing wisnae coming fae Mickey.

  “Danny! Mick!”

  “Whit?” wan ae them groggily answered fae wan ae the other rooms.

  “Shut that fucking alarm clock aff.  Ma heid’s pounding.”

  “It’s no me,” wan ae them mumbled.

  “Aw, fur God’s sake!” Shaun snarled, swinging his legs oot ae bed.

  He tried tae staun up and jist managed tae grab the heidboard tae steady himsel before he fainted, or worse, shat himsel.  He staggered through tae Mick’s room. Mick wis lying, face doon, oan tap ae the bed in his suit and tie, snoring.

  “Mick, ur ye lying oan tap ae yer alarm, ya daft
prick, ye?”

  “Naw,” Mick groaned. “Ah don’t hiv an alarm.”

  Shaun staggered through tae Danny’s room. Danny wis awready awake.

  “It isnae coming fae here,” Danny mumbled, swinging his feet oot ae bed.

   “It’s goat tae be that Mick wan,” Shaun growled, heiding back tae Mick’s room.

  “Mick! Mick!”

  “Whit?” Mick groaned.

  “Get fucking up. Ye’re lying oan an alarm clock.”

  “Aw, fur Christ sake,” Mick moaned, heaving himsel up and sliding his legs aff the bed.

  Wae Shaun’s help, Mick managed tae staun up.

  “Danny, ur ye sure ye’ve no goat an alarm clock?”

  “Aye.”

  “So, where the fuck’s it coming fae?”

  The three ae them stumbled through tae the lobby and stood listening between the living room and the kitchen doors, blinking and looking at each other. Nowan said a word as they tried tae detect where the sound wis coming fae. Suddenly, their three sets ae eyes aw moved at wance towards the ceiling hatch leading up tae the dookit.

  “Ah think it’s coming fae up there,” Mick whispered.

  “Ah think ye’re right. Let’s go, bit keep it quiet.”

  Danny stumbled intae the kitchen and returned wae a bendy breid knife in his haun. The three ae them crept up the creaky stairs.

  “Sshhh!” Shaun hissed, as wan ae the steps groaned loudly at the same time as Danny let rip wae a watery fart.

  “Sorry!”

  The ringing goat louder.

  “Dae ye think we’ve goat an uninvited visitor, Shaun?” Danny whispered.

  “Looks like it,” Shaun replied, waving his haun in front ae his nose. “Right, here’s whit we dae. Seeing as ye’ve goat the chib oan ye, squeeze by me tae the front. Efter three, we’ll aw charge up through the hatch and let the basturts hiv it. Okay?”

  “Aye.”

  “Right, everybody get their hauns oan the hatch. Wan, two, three!”

  The hatch flew open, up aff the flair ae the loft and crashed flat backwards. The three musketeers charged up the steps intae the room, screaming.

  “C’moan ya bampots, ye!”

  “We’ve goat ye noo!”

  “Youse ur aw deid meat, so youse ur!”

  Tae the sound ae the clattering bell, they stood there, stock still, disbelief oan their coupons, as a scabby hawker doo took flight between the damaged opening ae the landing board boxes.

8.35 A.M.

  Johnboy arrived at the cabin by cutting across the waste ground behind the buildings oan Parly Road at the Glebe Street end. He noticed Tony and Joe  jumping o’er the wee fence in front ae the billboards. Skull wis awready there as the ladder wis up and the door wis open.

  “Any sign ae The Brothers Grimm?”

  “No a cheep,” Skull said, twiddling wae the knob oan the tranny.

  “Ah wonder if they wur roond last night?” Johnboy asked.

  “Aye, whit a fucking shock they’d hiv goat. That wid’ve sobered the pricks up, eh?” Joe said, laughing.

  “Well, they wurnae roond here. At least, Ah never heard them.  The only visitor Ah hid wis Elvis who hung aboot fur aboot an hour, getting his lugs scratched.  He high-tailed it doon the ladder wance he’d scoffed wan ae the lefto’er mince pies,” Skull said, smiling as he turned up the volume tae the sound ae The Who’s ‘Ma Generation.’

  “Whit? Skull, Ah thought Ah said we wurnae tae be here last night.”

  “It’s aw right fur youse. Ah’ve telt ye…sometimes Ah cannae get in at night. Ah’m usually okay up tae nine o’clock…at a push. Efter that, Ah’m goosed.  And anyway, it’s quite cosy in here. Ah found a box ae candles under the cot and the tranny kept me company.”

  “Ah’m surprised they wurnae roond…it’s jist no like them.”

  “Well, we shouldnae hiv long tae wait. Ah cannae see them sleeping in this morning. That alarm wid waken the
bloody deid, so it wid,” Joe said, as Roger Daltrey screamed that he wanted tae die before he goat auld, as they aw cackled.

8.42 A.M.

  “Whit the fuck?”

  “Naw. Please! Please God, waken me the fuck up.”

  “We’ve been tanned!”

  Danny’s brain wis the first tae shift intae second gear.

  “The Horsemen!” Danny yelped in panic.

  He staggered tae the far end ae the loft, passing aw the open, empty nesting boxes, followed by Shaun and Mick, who stomped oan the alarm clock oan the way past tae shut the thing up.

  “The basturts hiv taken The Big Man’s Horsemen. We’re deid!”

  “Look, Shaun, they’ve came in o’er here…the thieving, miserable fuck-pigs.”

  “There’s nothing lower than a snake that’ll steal another doo-man’s doos.”

  “They’ve left some ae the doos…look!”

  “They must’ve been disturbed.”

  “Aye…when we came in fae the boozer. Ah knew Ah should’ve checked the doos before Ah crashed oot.”

  “So, it wis your fault then?” Shaun and Danny said accusingly at the same time.

  “Naw, Ah’m no saying that. Ye know whit Ah mean. We aw fucked up oan this wan.”

  “The Big Man will kill us.”

  “Right, who’ve we goat?”

  “It’s bound tae be that wee fucking Tally and his baldy pal.  Ah wid put ma life oan it.”

  “Danny?”

  “It could be that Flypast wan. Ah’m still no convinced that he’s as daft as he makes oot.”

  “Flypast wis at the do last night, pished as a fart. He pished aw o’er his troosers when Ah wis staunin beside him in the
lavvy, daeing a pish…so it wisnae him.”

  “Ah’m telling ye, Shaun, odds oan it’s that wee manky mob…the dirty thieving wee shitehooses. Ah’m gonnae personally droon every wan ae them when Ah get these hauns oan them…wan by wan…efter Ah’ve strangled fuck oot ae them first,” Mick said, haudin up his trembling hauns tae demonstrate.

  “Aye, they’re the wans Ah’d put ma money oan. That wee Tony wan wid manage tae pull this aff. Bit why wid he shite in his ain nest? There’s nae way they’d be able tae shift that amount ae doos withoot everywan in the toon knowing.”

  “Whoever it wis, must’ve goat away wae aboot fifty tae sixty doos.”

  “And they couldnae flee them withoot us finding oot aboot it.”

  “Hiv they paid the rest ae whit they owe us? Yesterday wis the deadline.”

  “The Tally wan came intae the pub wae the money yesterday morning. The Big Man telt him Ah wis busy and that Ah’d get it the day.”

  “It’s bound tae be them. Who else could it be?”

  Silence.

  “Ah’m jist no sure. It’s jist too fucking obvious. It could be that the pricks that did this wid know that the young wans wid get the blame,” Shaun wondered oot loud.

  “Well, there’s only wan way tae find oot. Let’s get tae fuck roond tae that cabin and see whit they hiv tae say fur themsels.”

9.10 A.M.

  “Kin ye see whit Ah see?” Crisscross asked The Sarge who wis driving up the High Street fae Central.

  “Whit?”

  “They wee manky wans walking towards us.  Quick, slow doon.”

  “Whit wans?”

  “That pair jist walking past The Auld College Bar?”

  “Whit aboot them?”

  “Look at their jumpers.  They’ve goat doos stashed up them.”

  “So? They’re obviously heiding doon tae Paddy’s.”

  “Aye, well, no wae they doos, they’re no. Pull o’er.”

  “Right, youse two, where dae ye think youse ur aff tae?” Crisscross growled at the two boys, as he stepped oot ae the squad car.

  “Doon tae Paddy’s.  He opens at ten.”

  “Whit fur?”

  “Tae sell oor doos,” the wee wan said, wiping his nose oan the sleeve ae his jumper, as he blinked in the sunlight.

  “We’re looking fur two wee manky scallywags wae stolen doos, fitting yer descriptions,” The Sarge said, wondering whit the hell Crisscross wis up tae.

  “Well, it’s nae us. The last time ma social worker clocked me, she telt ma maw Ah wis beyond description and that if Ah didnae get smartened up, Ah’d be taken intae care.”

  “Well, ye need tae understaun where we’re coming fae. We’ve been reliably informed that two wee toe-rags wae ginger hair…bit clearly no brothers…manky as fuck, faces mockit wae dirt, arses ripped oot ae their troosers…baith ae them wae sleeves full ae dried snotter, baith in short troosers, skint knees, full ae dried scabs stuck oan them…wan no wearing any socks and baith wae the backs ae their shoes shackled tae fuck…wan aboot seven, wae nae a tooth in his heid and the other aboot eight, hid nicked some poor doo man’s doos.”

  ”So?”

  “So, c’moan and look at yer reflections in this good clean
squad car windae. You take the back windae and yer wee pal, Goofy, the front passenger wan. Noo, tell me whit youse see?”

  “Ah cannae see below ma waist,” the big wan said, looking in the back passenger windae.

  “Ah’ll tell ye whit we kin see. The wee basturts we’re looking fur,” Sherlock Holmes, wae the bad squint in baith eyes declared triumphantly.

  “Bit, Goofy hid two front teeth. Ah don’t,” the wee wan wae nae front teeth bleated, trying tae wangle his wae oot ae the I.D.

  “Don’t get lippy wae us. We’re the polis,” The Sarge snarled, getting irritated at the cheek he wis hivving tae put up wae at this time oan a Sunday morning.

  “Right,” said Crisscross, opening the boot.  “Chuck they doos in here, while we decide whit tae dae wae youse.”

  “Ma maw said Ah’m too young tae be charged wae anything,” Goofy howled, taking two doos oot fae under his jumper and tossing them intae the boot.

  “Aye, bit we could always take ye in fur a warning, couldn’t we? That means yer maw hivving tae troop aw the way doon tae Central tae pick youse up efter the warning. Is that whit youse really want? Eh?”

  The two boys jist stood and stared at them withoot saying anything.

  “Whit dae ye think, Crisscross?”

  “Ah don’t know,” Crisscross replied.

  “Well, Ah’m aw fur letting them aff this time.”

  “Ye reckon?  Er, aye, okay. Bit, jist this wance.  The next time, they’ll be nicked.”

  “Right, youse two…fuck aff and don’t let us see youse doon here again,” The Sarge said, as the two bizzies opened the car doors.

  “That’s fucking daylight robbery, ya basturts, ye,” Goofy whistled through the bare gums ae that mooth ae his at the departing polis car.

  “Crisscross, why the hell hiv we goat four smelly doos wandering aboot in the back ae the car, shiting aw o’er the boot?”

  “Let’s heid fur Montrose Street and pay Flypast a wee visit. Whit time is it?”

  “Twenty past nine.”