The Long Glasgow Kiss

‘Did you tell Skelly to stick a gun in my ribs to get me here? I take exception to people pointing guns at me.’

Costello looked at me dourly and shook his head. ‘He’s a fucking bampot. I told him to make sure you came here. None of my crew should have shooters unless I say so. I’ll sort him out.’

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll have a word with him. I think it’s better coming from me, if you know what I mean. But that’s not why I was asking about Skelly and Young. I was told they were hanging about Sammy Pollock before he went missing. If it wasn’t them, it was their twins, going by the description I got.’

‘They’re younger than the rest of my people. They hang around with Paul a lot. Maybe they think that he’s the future. Some fucking hope. But that’s all there is to it: Paul hung around Sammy, and Skelly and Young hung around Paul.’

I made to take another sip of the whisky, then put the glass back down again, deciding I’d rather keep my stomach lined. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said. ‘I’m still looking into this Sammy Pollock business. If I find out anything about Paul, I’ll let you know.’

‘I’ll pay you …’

‘No need. But you’ll owe me a favour. The other thing is I need you to forget about what happened between me and Paul. And with your other three monkeys.’

‘I already said …’

‘There’s more …’ I looked across at the bar where Skelly was talking to his sandy-haired chum. ‘I’m a man of principle, you could say. One of those principles is I don’t let people point guns at me.’

‘Aw … for fuck’s sake …’ Costello looked over to Skelly at the bar then back at me. ‘Couldn’t you let it go? I can’t have you slapping all of my people around.’

‘That’s the deal.’

Costello paused for the clapping and raucous cheering that accompanied the conclusion of Dhmnnaaany Beh-ho-oy. I felt like cheering myself. When the applause died down, Costello nodded, acquiescing in the only way he knew how: sullenly.

‘Now, back to young Paul,’ I said. ‘The first thing I would have thought you would have done is to speak to this guy Largo?’

‘What? Who the fuck is Largo?’

‘You don’t know anyone called Largo?’

‘Should I?’

I leaned back and sighed. ‘No reason you should. Everybody I’ve asked about Largo has never heard of him. When I came across Paul at Sammy’s flat, he started off thinking I was a copper.’

‘He took you for polis?’

‘Yeah … I know,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I’m making a formal complaint to my tailor. Anyway, when he realized I wasn’t, he asked if Largo had sent me. When I asked him who Largo was, he gave me the brush-off, but he did say it was somebody he owed some money to.’

Costello looked at me. His was the expressionless kind of face that was difficult to read. ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ he said at last. ‘Why would Paul be borrowing money from someone? And if he did, how come I’ve never heard of this fucker Largo?’

‘I caught Paul on the hop. It could be that this thing about owing Largo money was just the best explanation he could think of on the spur. Anyway, like I said, I’m looking into who this Largo might be because he could be connected to this thing with Sammy Pollock. And Paul dropping out of sight is probably connected, as you’ve already guessed.’ I paused for a moment. ‘What about the “Poppy Club” … that mean anything to you?’

Costello shook his head. ‘Has that got something to do with Paul?’

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Maybe to do with Sammy Pollock. Maybe nothing to do with anything.’ I stood up and picked up my hat. ‘Okay, would you tell your monkey to give me my keys back. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything about Paul.’

‘Tell me something, Lennox,’ said Costello. ‘This thing with Sammy Pollock … and now with Paul … are you looking for people or bodies. It doesn’t look good does it?’

I shrugged. ‘Them disappearing doesn’t mean they’re dead, Jimmy. I’m beginning to suspect they were doing a bit of business on the side, probably with this guy Largo who no one knows anything about. It could be that he’s after them for money and they’ve both had to take a powder for a while. Who knows.’

‘He’s my boy, Lennox. My son. He’s a waster and a wanker, but he’s my son. Find him for me. I don’t care what you say, I’ll make it worth your while.’

I nodded. ‘Okay, Jimmy. I’ll see what I can find out.’ I put on my Borsalino. ‘I’ll be waiting at the car, tell Skelly to bring my car keys out to me.’

Fresh air was a relative term in Glasgow, but it was good to get out of the Empire and onto the street. I ignored the grubby tenements and looked up above the roofs and smoke stacks. It was past ten but the sky was still reasonably light. Scotland’s latitude made for long summer evenings. There was a burst of noise behind me as the pub door swung open. I turned and saw Skelly come out; his stooge Young was at his side.

‘Here’s your keys, Lennox.’ Skelly smiled his yellow-toothed smile and held them out to me.

‘Thanks.’ I took the keys in my left hand. ‘And I’ve got a tip for you …’