Read Online Crow Bait by Douglas Skelton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Douglas Skelton
Tags: Crime Fiction
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Need assistance… over.’
‘Units in vicinity,’ a voice crackled back, ‘stay with suspect. Over.’
Stay with suspect? Easy for you to say, mate, sitting in a control room and issuing bloody instructions into a microphone. Probably even got a nice cup of tea and a Jaffa Cake beside you. And I know units are in the vicinity , he thought, just not my immediate vicinity, and that’s where I need them because my legs are about to give up the ghost and this pain in my chest is really beginning to worry me.
But he kept on going, the radio clutched in his right hand, struggling to keep Mo’s white t-shirt in his sights, that damned change rattling around like a miser’s wet dream. He saw Mo glance over his shoulder and Donovan hoped that was a sign he was flagging. No such luck, for the wee man actually picked up his pace when he saw he was still hanging on behind him. Donovan felt the hope sink in his chest, swallowed up by the agony spreading across his ribs. That’s it , he promised himself, no more Scotch Pies at lunchtime .
But that glance back proved to be Mo’s undoing, because he failed to notice the dark-coloured Vauxhall zoom out of Craigievar Street and come to a halt just ahead of him. The driver’s door opened and a large man shot out, moving faster than his size might suggest. Donovan knew who it was and knew him to be a fit sod. Mo turned forward again only to run right into the swing of an extendable baton. Donovan winced when he heard the weapon crack against Mo’s chest. That’ll leave a welt, he thought. Mo went down hard on his back and Donovan slowed to a halt, bending forward with his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. And not to throw up. He looked up into the grinning face of Detective Sergeant Jimmy Knight. He never thought he’d be glad to see that face…
‘Frankie, boy!’ said Knight, his voice booming down the street as he retracted the baton. ‘I think you need to be getting to a gym. Disgraceful state to be in.’
Donovan didn’t have the breath in him for any sort of clever response, so with a shaking hand he raised two fingers at the big cop. Knight laughed. ‘Witty as ever, Frankie boy.’ He looked down at the young man beginning to stir at his feet. ‘Heard there was a wee bit of excitement and I was passing. Thought I’d lend a hand. Who’ve we got here then?’
‘Mo Morris,’ said Donovan, swallowing hard, his chest pain receding now.
‘And what did Mister Morris do that he’s exercised Strathclyde’s finest this day?’
‘Robbed an old biddy in Carntyne. Left her for dead.’
‘Really?’ Knight looked at the prone young man with renewed interest. ‘What did you go and do that for?’ Mo didn’t reply, prompting Knight to stamp his foot on his chest with some force. The young man cried out. ‘I’m speaking to you, ya wee shitehawk. Why’d you hurt that old lady?’
‘Didn’t mean to,’ wailed Mo. ‘Just happened.’
Knight bent down, grabbed the little man by a handful of hair and dragged him to his feet. There was a wicked gleam in Knight’s eye that Donovan had seen before, but he wasn’t about to let anything happen here. ‘Jimmy,’ he warned, ‘take it easy. We’re in the street here.’
Knight ignored him and peered into Mo’s eyes. The big cop’s face was impassive, but Donovan knew that meant nothing. Donovan looked around, saw no-one, but that didn’t mean eyes weren’t upon them.
‘Just happened? Just happened? Pounding a little old lady until she passes out doesn’t just happen , does it?’
Mo made the mistake of not responding and Knight shook him by the hair.
‘Does it, you pile of steaming shit? Does it?’
‘No!’ yelled Mo, crying now.
‘No, it does not.’ Knight glanced at Donovan and went on, ‘Know what, Frank, we should start beating on this guy, see what just happens . What do you think? Want first go?’
‘Jimmy,’ said Donovan again, ‘we’re in the street.’
‘We could
‘Units in vicinity,’ a voice crackled back, ‘stay with suspect. Over.’
Stay with suspect? Easy for you to say, mate, sitting in a control room and issuing bloody instructions into a microphone. Probably even got a nice cup of tea and a Jaffa Cake beside you. And I know units are in the vicinity , he thought, just not my immediate vicinity, and that’s where I need them because my legs are about to give up the ghost and this pain in my chest is really beginning to worry me.
But he kept on going, the radio clutched in his right hand, struggling to keep Mo’s white t-shirt in his sights, that damned change rattling around like a miser’s wet dream. He saw Mo glance over his shoulder and Donovan hoped that was a sign he was flagging. No such luck, for the wee man actually picked up his pace when he saw he was still hanging on behind him. Donovan felt the hope sink in his chest, swallowed up by the agony spreading across his ribs. That’s it , he promised himself, no more Scotch Pies at lunchtime .
But that glance back proved to be Mo’s undoing, because he failed to notice the dark-coloured Vauxhall zoom out of Craigievar Street and come to a halt just ahead of him. The driver’s door opened and a large man shot out, moving faster than his size might suggest. Donovan knew who it was and knew him to be a fit sod. Mo turned forward again only to run right into the swing of an extendable baton. Donovan winced when he heard the weapon crack against Mo’s chest. That’ll leave a welt, he thought. Mo went down hard on his back and Donovan slowed to a halt, bending forward with his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. And not to throw up. He looked up into the grinning face of Detective Sergeant Jimmy Knight. He never thought he’d be glad to see that face…
‘Frankie, boy!’ said Knight, his voice booming down the street as he retracted the baton. ‘I think you need to be getting to a gym. Disgraceful state to be in.’
Donovan didn’t have the breath in him for any sort of clever response, so with a shaking hand he raised two fingers at the big cop. Knight laughed. ‘Witty as ever, Frankie boy.’ He looked down at the young man beginning to stir at his feet. ‘Heard there was a wee bit of excitement and I was passing. Thought I’d lend a hand. Who’ve we got here then?’
‘Mo Morris,’ said Donovan, swallowing hard, his chest pain receding now.
‘And what did Mister Morris do that he’s exercised Strathclyde’s finest this day?’
‘Robbed an old biddy in Carntyne. Left her for dead.’
‘Really?’ Knight looked at the prone young man with renewed interest. ‘What did you go and do that for?’ Mo didn’t reply, prompting Knight to stamp his foot on his chest with some force. The young man cried out. ‘I’m speaking to you, ya wee shitehawk. Why’d you hurt that old lady?’
‘Didn’t mean to,’ wailed Mo. ‘Just happened.’
Knight bent down, grabbed the little man by a handful of hair and dragged him to his feet. There was a wicked gleam in Knight’s eye that Donovan had seen before, but he wasn’t about to let anything happen here. ‘Jimmy,’ he warned, ‘take it easy. We’re in the street here.’
Knight ignored him and peered into Mo’s eyes. The big cop’s face was impassive, but Donovan knew that meant nothing. Donovan looked around, saw no-one, but that didn’t mean eyes weren’t upon them.
‘Just happened? Just happened? Pounding a little old lady until she passes out doesn’t just happen , does it?’
Mo made the mistake of not responding and Knight shook him by the hair.
‘Does it, you pile of steaming shit? Does it?’
‘No!’ yelled Mo, crying now.
‘No, it does not.’ Knight glanced at Donovan and went on, ‘Know what, Frank, we should start beating on this guy, see what just happens . What do you think? Want first go?’
‘Jimmy,’ said Donovan again, ‘we’re in the street.’
‘We could
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