The Long Glasgow Kiss

There seemed to be nothing more to say to each other and my feet took me back out onto the street and to my car. This time there were no heavies waiting for me. For the moment. I would have to deal with the Costello situation sooner or later. As I opened the door of the Atlantic, I looked back towards the Merchants’ Carvery. Barnier was at the window of the lounge bar, watching; just as he must have done when he saw Costello’s men jump me.

Barnier bothered me. I had no reason to doubt what he had told me about his relationship, or lack of it, with Sammy Pollock. What was bothering me probably had nothing to do with that at all. It was just that there was something about the Frenchman. Some shadow he dragged around with him. And for a wine merchant, he certainly knew how to handle himself.

I called in at Lorna’s on the way back to my flat. I had hoped that the cold compress had stopped the side of my face swelling up and bruising too much, but it was still tender to the touch and Lorna noticed it as soon as I arrived.

‘What happened?’ she asked as she let me in, but her concern was grief-dulled and she was content with a dismissive shrug and a mumbled ‘It’s nothing …’

We sat in the living room, alone. Maggie MacFarlane was out. Making arrangements, she had told Lorna. I wondered how many of those arrangements would involve the matinee idol I saw pull up the day before.

Lorna looked tired and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. I spoke softly and soothingly and did all of the right things that a sensitive suitor should do. After a while, and when the moment seemed to open up and allow it, I asked her about the visitor in the Lanchester–Daimler. She looked at me blankly for a moment.

‘Tall, dark hair … moustache,’ I prompted.

A look of dull enlightenment crossed her expression. ‘Oh yes… Jack. Jack Collins. He was Dad’s partner. And he’s a family friend.’

‘Partner? I didn’t think that your father had a partner.’

‘Oh, no, not in the bookie business. Jack Collins is involved with boxing. He arranges matches. I think he’s like an agent or promoter for some of the fights. He and my father were putting together some fights. They had set up a company together. Jack and my dad were … close. Jack really is like a member of the family.’

‘They weren’t involved in arranging this Kirkcaldy–Schmidtke fight, were they?’

‘No … nothing as big as that. Why are you asking?’

‘Just curious,’ I said. ‘Why was he round here yesterday?’

‘He’s been helping sort out some of the business stuff.’

‘I see. Helping your stepmother?’

Lorna looked at me puzzled. Then it dawned on her. ‘Oh no. Nothing like that. Trust me, I wouldn’t put it past Maggie. I wouldn’t put anything past Maggie. But I don’t think Jack is in the slightest bit interested. Apparently he has a string of glamorous girlfriends.’ She made an attempt at a mischievous smile, but her sadness washed it away as if it had been drawn in sand. ‘Like I said, Jack and Dad were very close. There’s no way Jack would …’

‘What did he want? Last night, I mean?’

‘Just to see if he could help. And he was looking for some papers that Dad had.’

‘Did he find them?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

I had a drink with Lorna and she clung to me again when I was leaving. I fought down the sense of irritation that seemed to well up inside me. Again Lorna was breaking our contract of being mutually undemanding. I was, I thought to myself, a real piece of work.

When I got back to my apartment, I used the ’phone in the hall to call Sheila Gainsborough at the number she had given me for her agent. The same light, effeminate voice answered. I asked to speak to Miss Gainsborough: there was a sigh and a silence, then she came on the line. I went through the progress I had made, which didn’t take long.

‘Have you heard from Sammy at all?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing.’ The transatlantic voice sounded tired and strained. ‘I was hoping …’

‘I’m still looking, Miss Gainsborough. I spoke to the Frenchman, Barnier. He doesn’t seem to know Sammy that well after all.’

‘Doesn’t he?’ She sounded surprised. But only vaguely. ‘Sammy mentioned him a couple of times. I thought they knew each other.’

‘Oh, he does know Sammy. Just not that well.’

We talked for another few minutes: there was little more she could tell me and there was less I could tell her. I promised to keep her fully informed of progress.

After I hung up I felt something dead and leaden in my chest. Every time I thought about Sammy Pollock, the picture darkened a little.

CHAPTER SIX

When the war ended, Britain had committed itself to a more equitable society. Maybe that was why, when Beveridge and company were planning the Welfare State and a fair deal for all, Willie Sneddon, Jonny Cohen and Hammer Murphy were coming up with the Three King deal. The whole idea had been to divide up Glasgow equally between them. Fair shares.