Dumfries smiled when we entered, as much in amusement as welcome. My bringing along one of Sneddon’s heavies was making a statement; Dumfries’s smile was the arrogant sneer of someone who feels protected. But, there again, he wasn’t to know about the conversation I’d had with Murphy on the ’phone.
‘Lennox,’ he said, smugly. ‘Taking your pet out for a walk?’
‘Can we talk?’ I said, ignoring the fact that the two heavies had now appeared at our shoulders.
‘It’s a free country.’
‘I mean in private.’
‘I’m more comfortable here.’
‘This is serious stuff, Danny. And it’s as important to Mr Murphy as it is to Mr Sneddon. I’m just looking for some information, but we need to talk in private.’
‘Show the gentlemen the way out,’ Dumfries said wearily to one of his heavies.
Twinkletoes shoved me to one side as easily as if he were parting curtains. He pushed his face into Dumfries’s and pulled the bolt-cutters from inside his raincoat, slamming them down on the bar counter. Several glasses shattered. Suddenly the two heavies looked unsure as to what to do next.
‘Tell yer fuckin’ monkeys to fuck off, Dumfries, ya wee midget cunt. If you don’t, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill one of them, just to make a point. Then I’m goin’ to shove your fuckin’ toes up the other’s arse. After that I’ll start on yer fuckin’ fingers.’
I found myself thinking that if newly appointed General Secretary Dag Hammerskjold displayed similar diplomatic skills when he took office, the UN would resolve the Korean conflict overnight.
One of the heavies moved in on Twinkletoes, who swung the bolt-cutters backwards and slashed him across the temple. Dumfries’s man dropped like a stone while the other made a clumsy move forward. Twinkletoes turned to him and smashed his forehead into the man’s face. When he went down, Twinkletoes stamped on his head and put his lights right out.
‘Take it easy, for fuck’s sake,’ said Dumfries, backing away. Twinkletoes grabbed him by his expensive shirtfront and slapped him hard with the flat and then the back of his hand.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ said Twinkletoes.
‘Twinkletoes…’ I said. ‘We don’t want him to shut up. We want him to tell us what he knows.’
‘Oh,’ said Twinkletoes apologetically. ‘Sorry.’ He slapped Dumfries twice more. ‘Tell us what the fuck you know.’
‘About what?’ Dumfries yelled. A trickle of blood dribbled from his nostril.
‘Twinkletoes, give the guy a chance. He doesn’t know what we want,’ I said. I turned back to Dumfries. ‘But I’ll give you a clue or three. Blackmail. Tam McGahern. Trapping the great and the good with pussy mantraps.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
Twinkletoes pulled his hand back again. I stopped him with a gesture.
‘Let me try again. Arthur Parks and Tam McGahern. What’s the connection?’
‘How the fuck would I know?’ Dumfries was seriously scared. I understood his fear. I had been scared during my last chat with Sneddon, with Twinkletoes merely lurking in the background. The difference was there was no way I was going to let Twinkletoes indulge his little hobby. The threat should be enough.
I felt uncomfortable about how things had gone. After all of this was over, I would need to operate in this town. For now, I was acting as if I were one of Sneddon’s heavies.
‘I seriously hope you’re not pissing down my back and telling me it’s raining, Danny. This is big shit. As you’ll have gathered, you don’t have Murphy’s protection when it comes to this. And if you’re holding out you’ll have all of the Three Kings on your case.’ I turned to Twinkletoes. ‘Take a break; watch these two. Danny and I are going to have a chat. Where’s your office?’
Dumfries nodded to the back of the club. He showed me into a dingy office and switched the light on. The desk was covered in paperwork and the ashtray spilling over with butts. He still looked scared.
‘Take it easy, Danny, for fuck’s sake. Sit down. I just need information. I’m sorry about Twinkletoes’s enthusiasm, but I’ve been told to travel with him. You okay?’
‘Like you fuckin’ care.’ He slumped into his captain’s chair. I sat on the corner of the desk.
‘This is simple, Danny, just like I said. Tam McGahern got iced because he was treading on the wrong toes. Just whose toes I don’t yet know. But it involved blackmail.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with me.’ Dumfries sniffed and wiped the blood from his nose with a handkerchief. I gave him a cigarette and he lit it with a heavy gold pocket lighter. His hand shook.
‘Listen, Danny. I saw what happened to Arthur Parks. And what happened to Frankie McGahern. These guys are pretty handy with a tyre iron and they like their victims to suffer first. Really suffer. If you’re involved with this, your only way out is by having the protection of all Three Kings. The other thing is that if I don’t give Sneddon what he wants, Twinkletoes out there will give us both a pedicure. So tell me the truth and don’t hold anything back.’
‘I fuckin’ swear I’m telling you the truth,’ he said. I believed him.
‘Okay. But it’s going to be difficult to convince my lumbering chum out there. You better start thinking fast and push out a few names I can squeeze. If you were to start blackmailing punters, who would you use?’
Dumfries stared at the wall for a moment, smoking briskly.
‘What do you think they were up to?’ he asked at last. ‘Blackmailing punters with photographs of them on the job?’
‘I guess so,’ I said.
‘There are a few chancers out there who are handy with a Box Brownie. But if I was going to do something like that, there’s a guy I would use. Ronnie Smails. His main business is taking dirty pictures, but word has it that if you want someone set up, he’s the man to talk to.’
‘Does he work for any of the Kings?’
‘Naw. He’s too fucking far down in the gutter for them to bother with. Trust me, Lennox, you talk to Ronnie Smails for five minutes and you want to have a shower afterwards. He’s a low-rent pornographer and all-round creeping-Jesus.’
I nodded, but found it difficult to imagine Danny Dumfries looking down on anyone from the rarefied atmosphere of the flea-pit he ran. ‘Where can I find Smails?’ I asked.
‘He has a studio in Cowcaddens. He has a front of doing baby pictures, portraits, that kinda stuff. I don’t know if he’s your man, but he’s who I would go to.’ Dumfries wrote down an address and handed it to me.
‘I’ll pay him a visit. You okay?’
Dumfries nodded, but a sparkle of hate flickered in his eyes.
‘Listen, Danny, I’m sorry about the rough stuff, but you shouldn’t have called on your heavies. I can’t control Twinkletoes. I’ll talk to Sneddon and Murphy. Maybe get you a little compensation. Okay?’
Dumfries nodded.
‘Just make sure you don’t ever fucking come back here, Lennox.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I didn’t think I’d need Twinkletoes to deal with Ronnie Smails, and after the cosy scenes in Dumfries’s club, I thought I’d give him the afternoon off. I went back to my digs first, called a buddy in the Port of Clyde and arranged to meet that night at the Horsehead Bar for a pint and a chat.
I drove to Cowcaddens and found Smails’s place: a two-roomed shop on the ground floor of a soot-blackened tenement building. There was a printed card in the corner of the grimy window that gave rates for family and wedding photography and provided the last resting place for half-a-dozen flies. Next to it a freshly married couple gap-tooth-grinned out of a yellowing photograph. The bride was a head taller than the groom, and either the dark suit he wore had been borrowed from an even shorter chum, or he preferred his ankles to be well ventilated.