The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4

The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 by Ian Todd

Book: The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 by Ian Todd Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ian Todd
Tags: NEU
bit nae fucker between here and Milton will hear ye, so they wullnae.”
      “Bit, bit, Ah hivnae done anything, Mr Dougan,” Harper pleaded, starting tae bubble.  ”Ah swear…”
      “And who said ye hiv?  Ah know Ah hivnae.  Hiv any ae youse two accused Harper here ae daeing anything wrang?” The Inspector demanded, looking fae Harper tae the two sergeants.
      “Naw.”
      “Certainly no me.”
      “See?  So, stoap yer bubbling and settle doon.  Ye’ll be fine, so ye will,” The Inspector coo-ed soothingly, playing his haun carefully.
      “Bit, Mr Doug...”
      “Sshhh,” The Inspector shushed, interrupting him, haudin up the palm ae his haun tae the bubbling bubbler, sitting there opposite him.
        The Inspector sat back and looked at the specimen, shaking like some auld jakey.  It wis clear tae everywan in the room that this wisnae an act.  The fear wis squirting oot ae his every pore by the bucket load. Harper’s body language wis gieing a sterling performance tae support that fact. The problem that The Inspector hid wis trying tae figure oot whether Harper wis sitting there, scared witless because ae the presence ae Possilpark’s finest or whether his fear hid absolutely fuck-aw tae dae wae them, bit mair tae dae wae his fear ae Tam and Toby Simpson hivving him in their sights. The Inspector wished he’d telt The Gruesome Twosome tae go easy oan Harper before he’d hid the chance tae question him.  It wis obvious that he wis hiding something.  While the daft basturt’s fear wis logical and understandable, it didnae help The Inspector in trying tae find oot why the fuck his name hid come oot in the semi-delirious ramblings ae a psychopath stretched oot oan a stretcher.
      “Right, Harper, Ah’ll start again,” The Inspector sighed. “And this time, don’t bloody interrupt me, okay?”
      “Bit…”
      “Listen tae whit The Inspector’s telling ye,” Shane snarled, gieing Harper a slap oan the side ae that heid ae his that nearly lifted him oot ae his chair.
      “Look aboot ye, Harper.  There’s nae paper or pens in here,” The Inspector informed him wae a sweep ae his erm.  “We’re no gonnae write anything doon, so we’re no.  We jist want tae ask ye a few wee simple questions and get a few wee simple answers back…truthful answers, mind ye, and no any ae the usual forked–tongue dingers that ye’re well-known fur slinging oot ae that lying gub ae yers.  So, take a deep breath and let us know when we kin start, okay?”
      Silence.
      “Er, well, aw…awright, f…fire away,” Harper mumbled, efter whit seemed like ages, looking and sounding as if  he wis jist aboot tae be put in front ae a firing squad.
      “Springburn.”
      “Springburn?  Whit aboot Springburn?” Harper demanded, accusingly…much too fast, The Inspector noted, inadvertently daeing a wee drum-roll wae his fingers oan his bottom lip.
      “You tell us,” he eventually replied, his eyes boring intae the prisoner, trying tae detect…anything…that wid gie them a wee crumb tae work oan.
      “W…whit is there tae tell ye?” he asked, slowing doon a bit.
      At least he’s trying tae keep himsel in check, The Inspector mused, lifting up his packet ae twenty Senior Service and taking his time, lighting up a fag before responding tae Harper’s question.
      “Whit the fuck’s gaun oan?”
      “Ah…Ah, don’t know whit ye mean, er, Mr Dougan.”
      “Tam Simpson, Frisky Frank McKenna, Tony Gucci, Joe McManus...Harper…Harris?” The Inspector enquired in barely a whisper, leaving Harper’s name hinging in the air, as he cocked his eyebrow, awaiting a response.
        The words wur hardly oot ae The Inspector’s gub when Harper suddenly let oot a boaking, gulping, choking roar before forcing his chair back quickly so that he could puke up aw o’er the flair, causing The Gruesome Twosome tae jump oot ae the way ae the gusher that wis firing oan aw cylinders. 

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