The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 Read Free Page B

before being dragged aff tae the phone.
      The Stalker followed The Inspector oot tae the front desk, tae make sure he’d goat the name right ae the stabbing victim, bit efter waiting patiently fur hauf a minute, he gied up and heided oot ae the door.  Happy Harry, the desk sergeant wis surrounded by a group ae Hari Krishnas, wearing orange robes and sandals.  They wur demanding tae know why they’d been arrested at hauf wan in the morning, jist because they’d been banging their tambourines, chanting and singing at the tap ae their voices oan their way doon Hawthorn Street towards Possil.
      “Ah’ve tried tae tell them that they wur committing a breach ae the peace, bit they won’t take a telling,” Happy Harry, the longest serving desk sergeant in the division, bleated tae him, as the group burst intae another rendition ae ‘Hari Rama Hari Krishna.’
     
      The street wis empty, apart fae a couple ae squad cars and the white incident caravan that hid jist been drapped aff as The Stalker arrived.  Aw the lights ae the bingo hall wur still oan, including the big ‘Princes Bingo’ neon wan ootside.  He nodded tae a couple ae the forensics boys and went across tae wan ae the murder squad.
      “So, whit’s the score, Bobby?” The Stalker asked.
      “Aye, aye, Paddy boy, Ah wis wondering when yersel or Fin wid grace us wae yer company and gie us a wee haun aboot here.”
      “Ah wis trying tae persuade some madman no tae cut his wife’s throat up in Balgrayhill earlier oan and Fin finished his shift at ten.  Ah heard it oan the radio at aboot a quarter tae ten.”
      “So, whit kin Ah dae ye fur?”
      “Chic Thompson jist telt me that it might’ve been that young Joe McManus that goat murdered,” The Stalker said, peering across at the large pool ae black blood, congealing oan the front step ae the foyer.
      “Oh, there’s nae might aboot it.  It wis wan ae yer angels wae dirty faces, right enough.”
      “Bit that disnae make any sense, Bobby.  He’s a bloody cabbage, so he is.”
      “Wis a cabbage.”
      “Aye, awright, bit the point Ah’m making is that he’s been oot ae the game fur well o’er a year noo…maybe longer.  Whit the fuck wid anywan want tae go and stab somewan like him fur?”
      “Why wid a hubby want tae slit his nearest and dearest’s throat?”
      “Naw, that’s different.  This disnae make sense.  It’s jist no right.”
      “Aye, well, Ah widnae imagine there will be too many people losing sleep o’er this wan, cabbage or no.”
      “So, whit’s the score then?”
      “Fae whit we kin gather, McManus wis walking up Gourlay Street fae Springburn Road and a red coloured car, make unknown, skidded tae a halt.  We know three ae them jumped oot and attacked yer boy, bit we’re no sure whether wan ae them wis the driver or no.  The boy tried tae escape, in through the doors ae the bingo hall,” the inspector replied, nodding towards the glass doors tae the foyer.
      “Wur they aw carrying chibs?”
      “We don’t know at this stage.”
      “Witnesses?”
      “There wis two auld wummin jist leaving the bingo when it kicked aff.  Wan fainted.  They’re up in Stobhill.  We won’t get much oot ae them the night though.  Hopefully, they’ll be able tae gie us good descriptions or recognise who done it.”
      “So, where is he noo?”
      “Ye’ve jist missed him.  He’s oan his way doon tae the slab in the Saltmarket.  Why?”
      “Er, nothing, Ah wis jist wondering, that’s aw.”
      The Stalker picked Biscuit up fae Stobhill.  While he wis up there, he phoned Fin at hame.  The phone rang fur ages before it wis finally picked up.
      “This better be good,” Sergeant Finbar O’Callaghan, known by aw and sundry as Bumper, oan account ae running o’er the legs ae a couple ae toe-rags wae his squad car years earlier in the Toonheid, efter they refused tae stoap when he telt them tae, croaked intae the phone.