Simpson and Jo Jo Robson coming oot ae Burns’s pub, alang the road, jist efter youse disappeared roond the corner wae Frisky.”
“Really?” Bumper asked, surprised, turning tae look at him, wae a puzzled frown oan his coupon, as The Stalker crossed Springburn Road intae Keppochhill Road, heiding fur St Teresa’s Chapel in Possil.
Chapter Eight
“Right, youse will aw be wanting tae know why we’re here. It’s Saturday and Ah want tae try and get oot tae Motherwell tae see Celtic tanning their arses before the second hauf starts. So, who wants tae kick aff first?” Daddy Jackson, superintendent fur the north ae the city asked, looking doon the table at the Springburn contingent.
The only sound tae be heard wis the loud ticking ae the clock oan the wall at the far end ae the boardroom ae Central, doon in St Andrew’s Square. Everywan wis looking across at Chic Thompson, the inspector covering Springburn, seeing as it wis him that hid asked fur the confab.
The Stalker looked at those present. Gaun roond the table fae the left ae the superintendent, sat that right-haun man ae his, Chief Inspector Billy Liar, a full-time shite-hoose and Mr Angry tae aw and sundry. He wis sitting there quietly, as if butter widnae melt in his foul mooth. Next tae him wis Duggie Dougan, the inspector who covered Possilpark, wae his two sergeants, Dave McGovern and Shane Priestly, commonly known as The Gruesome Twosome by everywan who’d the misfortune tae hiv hid a run-in wae them. Next came Chief Inspector Bobby Mack fae the city’s murder squad. The other inspector fae that squad, Duke McLean, wis presumably aff trying tae reduce the ever-increasing unsolved murders in the city. Sitting twiddling his thumbs wis Chief Inspector Mickey Sherlock, another wan ae the superintendent’s bum-boys, who wis wan ae two chief inspectors who wur in charge ae the operational side ae the city’s serious crime and intelligence squad, and then there wis Chic, himsel and Bumper.
It wis Mr Murder himsel who kicked aff first.
“Er, excuse me, Daddy. Everywan else might be wanting tae know, bit Ah think there’s been a mistake by inviting me, lovely though it is tae see everywan,” he said, nodding tae the uniforms roond the table.
“Aye, well, ye’ll maybe find oot in a minute, wance Chic here gies us a wee briefing, eh?” Daddy replied, gieing Chic a wee nod.
“Ah asked Daddy if we could aw get roond the table tae take a look at a few wee possible developments that seem tae be germinating up in God’s country...that’s Springburn tae aw youse who hivnae been let in oan the secret,” he said, getting a few smiles oot ae the braids sitting roond the table, as he took his time in lighting up a fag. “Noo, there might be nothing in it, or there might jist be something happening that we hivnae picked up oan. Either way, Ah thought it might be better tae hiv a wee look at it wae a broad brush, rather than us aw hivving tae catch up oan events later oan, should the shite scatter efter hitting the fan, so tae speak.”
”Unless there’s deid bodies flying aboot or turning up in unexpected places, Ah don’t see that it’s goat anything tae dae wae us,” Bobby replied, referring tae the unsolved murders ae young lassies popping up fae behind the walls during the demolitions ae tenements in the Toonheid since the mid-sixties.
“Maybe we need yer wide-ranging polis expertise then, Bobby, seeing as everywan else disnae know whit the fuck they’re daeing, eh?” Billy Liar slung in.
“And here’s me thinking we’re aw in the same game...detecting the bad guys,” Mickey Sherlock muttered tae himsel, looking at his watch.
“Chic?” Daddy asked again, butting-in oan the argumentative wankers before they goat a full steam up.
“Well, it’s probably Paddy and Fin here ye should be asking, bit Ah’ll gie ye a wee taster fur starters, jist
“Really?” Bumper asked, surprised, turning tae look at him, wae a puzzled frown oan his coupon, as The Stalker crossed Springburn Road intae Keppochhill Road, heiding fur St Teresa’s Chapel in Possil.
Chapter Eight
“Right, youse will aw be wanting tae know why we’re here. It’s Saturday and Ah want tae try and get oot tae Motherwell tae see Celtic tanning their arses before the second hauf starts. So, who wants tae kick aff first?” Daddy Jackson, superintendent fur the north ae the city asked, looking doon the table at the Springburn contingent.
The only sound tae be heard wis the loud ticking ae the clock oan the wall at the far end ae the boardroom ae Central, doon in St Andrew’s Square. Everywan wis looking across at Chic Thompson, the inspector covering Springburn, seeing as it wis him that hid asked fur the confab.
The Stalker looked at those present. Gaun roond the table fae the left ae the superintendent, sat that right-haun man ae his, Chief Inspector Billy Liar, a full-time shite-hoose and Mr Angry tae aw and sundry. He wis sitting there quietly, as if butter widnae melt in his foul mooth. Next tae him wis Duggie Dougan, the inspector who covered Possilpark, wae his two sergeants, Dave McGovern and Shane Priestly, commonly known as The Gruesome Twosome by everywan who’d the misfortune tae hiv hid a run-in wae them. Next came Chief Inspector Bobby Mack fae the city’s murder squad. The other inspector fae that squad, Duke McLean, wis presumably aff trying tae reduce the ever-increasing unsolved murders in the city. Sitting twiddling his thumbs wis Chief Inspector Mickey Sherlock, another wan ae the superintendent’s bum-boys, who wis wan ae two chief inspectors who wur in charge ae the operational side ae the city’s serious crime and intelligence squad, and then there wis Chic, himsel and Bumper.
It wis Mr Murder himsel who kicked aff first.
“Er, excuse me, Daddy. Everywan else might be wanting tae know, bit Ah think there’s been a mistake by inviting me, lovely though it is tae see everywan,” he said, nodding tae the uniforms roond the table.
“Aye, well, ye’ll maybe find oot in a minute, wance Chic here gies us a wee briefing, eh?” Daddy replied, gieing Chic a wee nod.
“Ah asked Daddy if we could aw get roond the table tae take a look at a few wee possible developments that seem tae be germinating up in God’s country...that’s Springburn tae aw youse who hivnae been let in oan the secret,” he said, getting a few smiles oot ae the braids sitting roond the table, as he took his time in lighting up a fag. “Noo, there might be nothing in it, or there might jist be something happening that we hivnae picked up oan. Either way, Ah thought it might be better tae hiv a wee look at it wae a broad brush, rather than us aw hivving tae catch up oan events later oan, should the shite scatter efter hitting the fan, so tae speak.”
”Unless there’s deid bodies flying aboot or turning up in unexpected places, Ah don’t see that it’s goat anything tae dae wae us,” Bobby replied, referring tae the unsolved murders ae young lassies popping up fae behind the walls during the demolitions ae tenements in the Toonheid since the mid-sixties.
“Maybe we need yer wide-ranging polis expertise then, Bobby, seeing as everywan else disnae know whit the fuck they’re daeing, eh?” Billy Liar slung in.
“And here’s me thinking we’re aw in the same game...detecting the bad guys,” Mickey Sherlock muttered tae himsel, looking at his watch.
“Chic?” Daddy asked again, butting-in oan the argumentative wankers before they goat a full steam up.
“Well, it’s probably Paddy and Fin here ye should be asking, bit Ah’ll gie ye a wee taster fur starters, jist
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