such luck. Thought you were running a sauna now,’ said McCoy as they walked in.
‘I was. Then Mr Cooper came to his senses, realised what an asset I was.’
‘Got sick of your moaning more like,’ grunted Cooper. ‘This way.’
He pushed the door open and they went through into the main room. It was dark and hot, smelt of stale beer and stale sex. There was a bloke asleep on the couch, snoring away. He’d no shoes or shirt on, just braces hanging down by his sides.
A young girl, eighteen or so, falling out her lacy dressing gown, was carefully pouring a bottle of Tennent’s into two mugs. Mission accomplished, she handed one to the other occupant of the room. He was a big fella, no shirt either, just fleshy shoulders and a beer belly covered in black hair and a pair of long boxer shorts. He took the mug from the girl and drew her close. They swayed back and forward, moving to the music coming from the record player in the corner. ‘Three Coins In The Fountain’.
Neither of the dancers took much notice as they made their way through to the kitchen beyond, just kept swaying to the music.
‘Thought you were closing down the shebeens,’ said McCoy. ‘Not opening up another one.’
‘Comes in handy,’ said Cooper. ‘I sleep in the back bedroom sometimes, get Iris to make me breakfast. She likes doing it. That right, Iris?’
Iris plonked a couple of bottles of beer down on the table. ‘Do I fuck. C’mon, Jumbo, you can help me get rid of that fat lump on the couch.’
They left, and McCoy looked round. Kitchen was big, pulley on the ceiling full of drying bedclothes, crates of drink and towels everywhere, just like every other shebeen he’d ever been in. A bright blue budgie in a cage on a stand in the corner. Whistled at him when he tapped the wire bars.
‘Didn’t know you were such a soft touch when it comes to Iris,’ said McCoy, sitting down.
Cooper shrugged, opened the bottles and handed one over. ‘Needed somewhere to go when I came out the hospital, Memel Street’s a fucking zoo these days. Iris had been moaning away so I set her back up. Suits us both. Besides, she was shite in the sauna, put the punters right off.’
Cooper took a gold lighter from his trouser pocket, lit up, handed the packet over. McCoy took one. Jumbo reappeared, sat down in the corner, started cooing at the budgie. Last time McCoy’d seen him he’d just managed to stop Cooper killing the poor bastard. Now they seemed glued at the hip. Wasn’t like Cooper to need muscle, he could take care of himself, no trouble. Injury that had put him in hospital must have taken its toll after all.
Cooper took a long slug of the beer. ‘Tasty wee bird that. How long’s that been going on?’
‘Few weeks,’ said McCoy.
‘And you’re shacked up there already? Must be love.’
McCoy shrugged. Wasn’t sure how happy he was about Cooper knowing who Susan was or where she lived. ‘How’s the back?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ said Cooper too quickly.
McCoy knew Cooper too well to think he would tell him the truth. Men like Cooper prided themselves in dealing with anything, be it a pub landlord not paying his dues or a life-threatening wound in your back. He was up and about but the amount of stitches he’d had and the presence of Jumbo told the real story. He was sitting funny too, straight; looked like he might have a brace on under his shirt.
‘Jumbo?’ said Cooper.
Jumbo was up and standing by him in a second. ‘Mr Cooper?’
Cooper held out a quid. ‘Away and get me some fags.’
Jumbo looked down at the open packet on the table, fifteen or so left in it. Was about to say something then didn’t. Took the money and headed for the door. McCoy watched him go, waited until he’d left before he spoke again.
‘You sure you’re okay, Stevie?’ asked McCoy.
A flash of anger. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I’m fine. Stitches are out. All fixed, raring to go.’
He leant forward, put on a posh woman’s voice. ‘And how about you, Mr McCoy? Has this event affected you psychologically?’
McCoy shook his head. ‘Shows how much you know. Psychologist was a man. And from Shettleston of all places, had more of a Glasgow accent than I do.’
Cooper laughed, leant behind him to get another couple of beers from the crate. ‘You doing that Celtic lad by the way?’ he asked.
McCoy nodded. ‘You hear anything?’
‘What’s to hear? Scobie lost control of that nutter Connolly a long time ago. The guy’s a fucking psycho. He cannae find him now either, got all his boys running about town like blue-arsed flies.’
‘How come Connolly’s gone off the rails all of a sudden?’ asked McCoy. He wanted to know what Cooper knew; easiest way was to act daft.
Cooper looked dismissive. ‘Everyone knows that. Elaine Scobie. Cannae leave the lassie alone. He’s obsessed.’
‘You know her?’ McCoy asked.
Cooper shook his head. ‘No really. Used to see her around couple of years ago, out and about in the town. Used to like the nights out. Liked the bad boys too.’
McCoy looked puzzled. ‘Charlie Jackson wasn’t a bad boy.’
‘Nope, pure as the driven snow him, good player as well. Every father-in-law’s dream.’ Cooper shifted himself in his seat, winced. ‘That Elaine wised up right enough.’
‘What? She had enough of the single life?’
Cooper snorted. ‘Aye right. All she’s doing is making sure Daddy leaves her the money. Settled down with a Celtic player, started staying in nights watching the telly. What more could Scobie want? Got cancer, I hear. Year at the most. Gonnae be a war in the Northside when he goes. Place’ll be up for grabs.’
‘Thought Bertie Waller was all set to take over,’ said McCoy.
‘Aye well, that’s what Bertie Waller thinks, but Bertie Waller’s just another stupid old cunt.’ He shook his head, looked at him.
‘What the fuck am I telling you this for? Doing your job for you. You polis know bugger all about bugger all.’
‘So this a social visit, is it?’ asked McCoy. ‘Concerned for my mental state, were you?’
Cooper shook his head. ‘No, it’s not, and am I fuck so don’t come the cheeky cunt.’ He sat back in his chair, winced again. ‘You know something? There’s fuck all to do when you’re lying in your hospital bed for three weeks. Boring as fuck. Especially when your pals don’t even come and visit you—’
‘Stevie, I—’
‘Can it. You’re forgiven. I don’t blame you. I wouldnae go near a hospital unless I had to.’
‘You
