The Fear of Falling (The DI Kidston Crime Thrillers) by John Harkin

Author:John Harkin [Harkin, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books
Published: 2022-01-16T16:00:00+00:00

25

McCartney was putting the finishing touches to a crime report and Costello was confirming the ten-digit crime reference number from the relevant file kept at the uniform bar. Tam Baillie, the desk sergeant, was regaling the young policewoman with his favourite Peter Costello stories.

‘Has he told you the one about his marriage licences?’ Baillie asked her.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one.’ McCartney shook her head.

‘Young Gorbals loon walks into the front bar a few years back,’ Baillie began. ‘“My mammy says I’ve got to get a marriage licence from Inspector Costello.” Inspector Costello, mind you: two promotions for the big man. “I want to marry Betty Murray frae Hutchesontown, and my mammy says aye, so long as you get a signed licence and permission from Inspector Costello at the polis station.”

‘I got him to fill in some old, random form and said I’d pass it on to Inspector Costello. I sent it through despatches to Peter with a note saying maybe he’d want to conduct the wedding ceremony as well.’

Costello was chuckling as he remembered the sergeant’s despatch.

‘What happened? Did they get married?’ McCartney asked.

‘Sadly, no.’ Costello took up the story. ‘I met his mother in the street and she told me, “That eejit is no marrying anyone.” His girlfriend was late with her period and they panicked.’

‘Another tale to add to my Costello’s greatest hits collection.’ McCartney laughed. ‘I’m saving them up.’

It was no wonder the man was a legend in the Gorbals. Funny stories aside, the anecdote hinted at the big cop’s standing with the community and how he policed his bailiwick. Costello was treated like an old-school village bobby. The Gorbals, with its rough and tumble and its criminal underclass, was no village, but through his presence in the community, his policing methods, his work in schools and youth clubs and the fair way he dealt with the people, Costello had reduced or elevated the place to village status. It was a remarkable achievement.

Their laughter subsided when the office phone rang. Tam Baillie raised his hand for silence. ‘I’ll send two of my best officers right away, Mrs Callaghan.’ The look on Tam’s face hinted at the grave and urgent matter at hand. ‘Right, you two, step to it double quick. Baby crawling on the balcony ledge, ten floors up at the Queen Elizabeth Square flats. You’ll need to go to Mrs Callaghan’s flat to get access to the balcony. She’s incapacitated, on crutches, so her front door is on the latch.’ He wrote the flat and floor numbers on a call sheet and handed them to Costello. ‘I’ll call up the divisional van, but you guys will be there quicker.’

The multi-storey flats were a stone’s throw to the police station and overlooked the backyard of the office. The old joke went that no suspect was ever beaten up in the Gorbals yard because there were hundreds of potential witnesses to any improper acts. Exiting the back door and cutting across the yard, the flats were upon you as soon as you stepped onto the street.

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