The Hanging Shed

THIRTY-THREE

Sometimes you need a bit of luck. Mostly it appears out of the blue, looking like a ten-bob note when what you needed was a fiver. But sometimes luck flings itself at you like a long-lost love. Propitiously, it came the next day, May Day, summer’s harbinger, in the form of an early-morning knock on the door. Sam and I were up and about, having risen from our chaste beds. I wondered if she’d lain awake waiting for footsteps on the landing as long as I had?

Sam took the door. I heard a man’s voice and Sam ushering someone into the library. She called out to me to join her. I came in from the kitchen. Sam was standing with her arms folded. A man stood fidgeting in front of her, turning his hat round and round in his hands. You would never normally confuse him with Lady Luck. Anger swept through me.

‘You’ve got a bloody nerve! What have you come to arrest us for this time? Or are you just here to gloat!’

Detective Constable Davy White had the decency to flush, whether from anger or embarrassment or a mixture. Either way, I savoured his discomfiture.

‘If you must know, Brodie, I’m here to help.’

‘A bit bloody late for that, White! How could you possibly help?’

‘It’s this Donovan business. And Mrs Reid.’

‘And Father Cassidy? And the missing Reid weans? It’s a stinking business, White!’

He was nodding and fingering his too-tight collar. ‘Ah ken, Ah ken. It’s why I’m here. I cannae thole it any longer, neither I can.’ His face screwed up. For a horrible minute I thought the wretch was going to break down and cry in front of us.

‘I’ll make tea,’ said Sam.

‘I think you should be here for this,’ I said.

‘Well, talk about football or something till I get back. What do you think of that new winger for Rangers, Detective White? I think he’s got the speed but his passing is rubbish.’

She walked out leaving us in wondering silence. We sat, him on the edge of an armchair, me sunk back on the couch, studying my man. Sam returned wheeling a trolley like an office tea-girl. She did the honours and we turned expectantly to DS White, who seemed to be having trouble keeping his brew in his cup.

‘OK, White, the floor’s yours. This had better be good!’

The man was visibly sweating now and pulling at his tie. Finally he undid it. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’

‘You can turn cartwheels for all I care, Detective. Just tell us why you’re here,’ said Sam with heat.

White lit up. ‘This hanging business. I cannae sleep. It wasnae what I joined for.’

I was getting exasperated. ‘Spit it out, man.’

‘Ah don’t think Donovan did it.’

Sam and I looked at each other. ‘Neither do we. But it’s a bit bloody late for you lot to come to that conclusion!’

‘Ah ken, Ah ken. Look, there’s something you should see.’

‘Show us.’

White stood up and fumbled in his crumpled inside jacket pocket. He pulled out a small black notebook, familiar in shape and colour. I used to have one myself.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s marked at the place.’

I was on my feet facing him now. I knew what this was. I guessed what he was telling us. Hugh’s ruined face swam into my mind, his eyes beseeching as they pulled the hood down over his scarred head. If only this little book had surfaced a month ago. I wondered whether, in the circumstances, if I strangled this so called detective the courts would let me off.

‘What does it show, White?’ I asked quietly. I made no move to reach for it.

His eyes spoke before he did. ‘That Donovan confessed after we took him to the coal cellar.’ He held the notebook out to me. I stepped forward, took it with my left hand and brought my right round and up in one movement that Les himself would have applauded back in his sparring ring in the Old Kent Road. My fist took White on the point of the jaw. It lifted his head up and back. It may even have lifted his whole flabby body up off the floor. He went back in an arc and crashed to the wood floor in a flailing pile of arms and smashed teacups. He lay still for a long second or two and then started groaning.

‘Sorry about the china, Sam.’ I rubbed my knuckles.

‘You don’t think I gave him the best?’ said Sam, picking up his smouldering fag and stubbing it in the ashtray. ‘Shall we see?’ She held out her hand. I passed her the notebook. The elastic band round its middle had been set at a point well into the notebook. She opened it at the place and read quickly through the next few pages. She looked up, her face drawn and resigned. She turned and marched over to the supine detective. ‘You bastard!’ Then, very thoughtfully and with great precision, she kicked him in the side. White yelped and rolled away. Sam spun on her heel and waved the notebook at me. ‘This could have saved him, Brodie! Or at least thrown enough doubt on the facts as to give me a real crack at the appeal. I could have saved Hugh!’ She swivelled again as if to go back and kick him again.

‘Sam! Don’t. Leave some for me. What’s it telling?’

She turned back, her face mottled with fury. ‘It shows this pair lied in court! Perjured themselves! Hugh didn’t tell them where to find the body. He hadn’t confessed before he was taken to the coal cellar. He gave no information about the body, the number of stab wounds, even that the boy was naked. It says here: “Tuesday, 3 December 1945. Report of boy’s body found in coal cellar behind Carol Street tenements.’

‘That’s just two streets away from Hugh’s place in Florence Street,’ I said.

She went on: ‘Tuesday 3 December 1945. Time: 15.35 hours. Accused taken to crime scene. Accused wept at sight of body. Accused said, “No, no, no,” several times. Covered his face with hands. DS Kerr and I took him back to the station where he was questioned again about his knowledge of the crime scene. He refused to talk. He lay on floor. Accused left in his cell. ‘Wednesday, 4 December 1945. DS Kerr and myself returned to the cell. Found the accused calm but staring at the wall. DS Kerr made him sit at table. He was questioned again about involvement in the murder. Finally accused said, “All right, for God’s sake, all right. I did it. I killed him. I might as well have. Let’s get this over with.” At this point, DS Kerr brought the accused pen and paper and made him write out his confession.’

‘And in this confession he describes all the details of the coal cellar and the state of the body?’ I asked. She nodded.

White was sitting up now and nursing his jaw. He had a hankie to his mouth. It was bloody. He got on to all fours then eased himself erect using the armchair.

‘Assaulting a police officer, Brodie. You shouldnae have done that.’ He clutched his side.

‘And I’m minded to assault you again, you little shit! So don’t tempt me! Because of your lies in court, they hanged an innocent man!’

Sam interjected. ‘I saw your chair tip and you fell and hit your mouth on the table, officer.’

He stood swaying slightly, looking at the pair of us, and then he nodded. ‘Ah don’t blame you, Brodie. It’s what Ah deserve. Let me just say Ah was telt what to do by Silver and Kerr.’ He paused and I thought he had finished, but then, miserably, with a shake of his head: ‘It wisnae what I joined up for.’

‘I know another bunch of blokes in uniform who claim they were only following orders. The Nuremberg judges don’t seem to think that’s much of a defence. My betting is they’ll be hanged for acting like sheep! Isn’t that’s what you deserve, White?’

‘Brodie! Let’s hear him out.’ She seemed to have got herself under control.

I took a deep breath and walked back to my seat.

Sam switched to her courtroom voice. ‘Tell me what happened, Detective White. In your own words.’ Her calm authority brought White’s head up and he began his account.

‘We’d been trying for hours to get him to admit it. But he just kept saying he knew nothing about a’ the evidence we found in his hoose. And he claimed he knew nothing about where the boy might be. Nor onything about the two other missing lads. And a’ the time, he was like he was hungover. No a’ there, if you like. In a dwam. I suppose it was the heroin.’

‘And when you took him to the crime scene, did he know where he was going?’

‘He didnae seem to. As I said, he was in a bit of a dwam.’

‘Did he change when you showed him the body?’

‘Oh aye, and how. It was like he woke up. And then he started greetin’. Like a big wean. He said…’

‘Go on.’

‘He said…’ White seemed to lose control again for a minute. ‘He said, “My boy, my boy, what have they done to you. My wee boy.” Something like that. ’

I thought of the photo of Rory in Fiona’s house. Vivacious dark eyes glinting out at us. Sam and I couldn’t look at each other. Her voice went softer without losing any of its authority. ‘Why didn’t you record that in your notebook?’

‘Kerr said I shouldn’t. He said it wisnae important. It was irrelevant.’

‘And Silver himself told you to hide your notes?’ she asked.

‘Aye, and he was telt by Muncie himself. So he said.’

I asked softly, ‘Did you beat him, White? Did you knock a confession out of him?’

He wriggled in his seat. ‘No’ much. I mean we didnae gi’e him a pasting. It was more a slap or two.’

‘Did you ever leave him alone with Kerr or Silver?’

He looked up at Sam beseechingly. She raised her brows and waited.

‘Aye. A couple of times that night.’

‘Did they do him over, White?’

‘Aye. They did. No’ on his face. Just the body.’

‘And after that he confessed?

‘Yes and no. I don’t think we made him confess. He didnae seem to care what we did. I think he just finally got kinda bored with it a’. Like he wanted to be left alone.’

‘And the details? How did they get into the confession?’

‘Sergeant Kerr. He kinda dictated it. Though he couldnae get Donovan to say onything about the other four kids.’

I could see Hugh now, chest heaving and eyes blinded with tears after another round of punches to the kidneys or kicks to the balls. Rolling in physical agony from the relentless punishment and accusations. But almost welcoming the torture for the brief respite it gave him from the searing images of his dead son. Through it all, just wanting time and space to grieve. Wanting these sadistic clowns out of his face. He saw no future for himself. His brief link with normality, the time with his son and with his former lover, had been wrenched away from him. There was nothing left for him, even if he got off. Back to the heroin fixes and the squalid tenement flat? Alone again more finally than even he could have imagined. In that mood, ready to say or do anything if these thugs would just let him rest, let him mourn. And not caring that by signing the confession he’d as good as set a date for the gallows. For Hugh, at that moment, death couldn’t come quickly enough. Sam broke my reverie.

‘Are you willing to testify to all this in a court of law?’

‘Oh Christ. Could you no’ just use the notebook? Would I have to stand there?’

‘Your choice, White. The witness box or the defendant’s box,’ Sam stated. There was a heavy pause, and his shoulders raised and lowered. ‘Aye. It’s a’ one, now.’

There were some last questions from me though I could hardly bring myself to look at him.

‘Did you plant the evidence in Hugh’s flat?’

‘No! Not at a’! We wouldnae go that far!’

‘No? After what you did it’s only one more wee step. And before you know it you’re personally putting the rope round an innocent man’s neck!’

‘Ah didnae! So help me!’

I gazed at his pathetic face. He seemed genuine enough. One of his buddies could have done it and just kept White in the dark.

‘Who made the phone call that led you to Hugh’s flat? Who was the mystery caller?’

He sighed. ‘Cassidy. Father Cassidy.’

‘And yet you sods refused to believe what Mrs Reid told me? Didn’t you make the connection? Cassidy was the last man to see Hugh that night! And the next morning he phones you to have him arrested!’

‘We were in too far. We couldnae back oot. We’d have looked like eejits.’

‘You mean you’d rather string up an innocent man than look stupid?’

White was wringing his hands. ‘You don’t understand. We had all the bloody press after us. Muncie told Silver we had to do something. Get them aff our backs.’

‘Including framing someone?’

He lifted his hands, palms up, in resignation. Then something struck me, like an icicle driven into my stomach. Surely not?

‘Wait a minute. Why are you doing this now, White? Why did you wait till Hugh Donovan was barely cold in his unmarked grave?’

He said something that I didn’t catch. ‘What?’

He lifted his head. His eyes were glassy. ‘They’ve found the weans. The Reid weans.’