Authors: George McCartney
Chapter 30
Next morning, back at the beach hut, Jack was sitting at the MacBook reading an email. He was evidently disappointed at the contents, and muttered, ‘Bugger me, I don’t believe it. This email’s from the cops in Glasgow, but it’s not from Andy. He’s such a busy man, he’s delegated writing it to some twat who calls himself the customer liaison manager, for CID Service Delivery in Glasgow. It sounds more like he works for bloody Tesco than the cops.’
‘So what’s happening?’
‘It says they can only continue surveillance on the office and both of our flats for another couple of days. If Burke hasn’t showed up by then, “future deployment on this investigation will be wholly dependent on intelligence led lines of enquiry, consistent with current operational demands and service delivery targets.”’
Annie was thoroughly confused by the explanation and asked, ‘What does all that mean?’
Disgusted, Jack answered, ‘It means they don’t have a fucking clue where he is and, because there are loads of other bampots in Glasgow that they need to worry about, which is true, they don’t have any more time for this one. It’s not looking good, Annie, I mean if Burke’s dropped right off the radar.’
Trying to look on the bright side, Annie speculated, ‘Maybe he’s gone back to Ireland.’
‘No way. What he did back in Glasgow was just the beginning. He wants to enjoy making me suffer, before he gets bored of pulling my chain and then tries to finish me off.’
‘You’re
sure
about this?’
‘I’m as sure as I can be. Look, Burke’s spent the last eighteen years banged up, which won’t have done anything to improve his sunny disposition. I reckon he did every day of his sentence promising to make me pay when he got out. You have to admit he’s not made a bad start, considering he only got out last week.’
‘So the police search won’t scare him off.’
‘Definitely not. He’s a man on a mission Annie, to kill me,
and
anyone who’s close to me.
You
should leave. It’s not too late. You need to get as far away from me as possible until this thing is finished, one way or another. That’s not what I want, because I’ve enjoyed having you around for the last couple of weeks. It’s been really good.’
Annie responded without hesitation, ‘I’m not going anywhere, boss. Although I’ve not been paid yet, this is
still
the best job I’ve ever had. So I’m staying, okay? Like that cheesy Hank Williams song you keep playing in the car, what’s it called, “How can I miss you, if you won’t go away?”
Jack
s
miled ruefully, ‘Old Hank didn’t write
that
one, Annie. But he
would
have, if he’d thought of it.’
Leaving Annie to read the email for herself, Jack lit a cigarette before surreptitiously lifting her phone. Still muttering darkly about the incompetence of the Glasgow police, he headed purposefully round the back of the cabin towards the lean-to toilet. Ten minutes later, Jack returned with a broad grin and said, ‘I think I’m really getting the hang of all the new technology on your iPhone, Annie. It’s very impressive, but there is a little bit of bad news.’
‘
Please
tell me you didn’t drop it into the composting toilet,’ asked an alarmed Annie.
‘No, it’s quite safe. But while I was listening to the BBC news on the radio app, I was playing around with the camera at the same time, and I accidently took a photo of me sitting on the bog. Now I’m not sure, but while I was trying to delete the picture, I think I’ve maybe sent it by mistake to everyone on your contacts list. Sorry, I didn’t have my reading glasses on.’
‘Give me that, you old fool, and don’t take it again without asking, okay?’
Annie snatched back her precious iPhone, texted furiously for two minutes and then sat back and sighed with relief, ‘It’s okay, panic over. I’ve just told everyone that I’m temping in a care home and one of the old nut job residents had locked himself in the bog with my phone and taken a selfie.’
‘Cheers for that, Annie,’ replied Jack, suitably chastened.
She continued to peer at her phone and continued, ‘But it’s a bit worrying, because there are three “likes” already for your selfie on my Facebook page. You didn’t log on to
Grindr
as well as, did you?’
‘What’s
Grindr?
’
Innocently, Annie replied, ‘Oh, I think it’s one of these websites that makes it easy for people in cities who are maybe on their own to arrange to meet up, have a drink and talk about all the latest technology and any
other
stuff that’s on their minds. It’s mainly a man thing, I should think.’
‘What a great idea,’ said Jack enthusiastically, ‘I mean at my age you tend to be stuck with your own little circle of acquaintances, so it would be really good to meet some interesting new people and learn about new things. You must show me how to sign up for that, when we get back to Glasgow.’
I definitely will, Annie thought to herself, if you don’t stop messing around with my bloody phone.
Chapter 31
Later the same day, Jack and Annie were back in the Land Rover following a sleek silver convertible Mercedes SLK, driven by Helen Blake, the alleged errant wife, who had just pulled out of the driveway of her home.
Jack was feeling relaxed and happy. ‘Okay, one job done and dusted, one still to go.’
Annie nodded in agreement and said,
‘Yeah, we did good last night, the farmer is
really
pleased. Apparently he phoned Emma to say that there’ll be a nice bonus in it for us.’
Jack was unconvinced and replied,
‘Would that be like an actual
money
bonus?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Bloody farmers, it’ll probably be a couple of second-hand boiler suits.’
As she drove, Annie brought Jack up to speed on her search of Helen Blake’s bedroom. ‘Well first I checked a big chest of drawers she has under the window and, no big surprise, all the sensible Marks and Spencer pants and thermal vests seem to have been dumped and she’s got quite a collection of new sexy lingerie. You know, the expensive lacy basques, crotchless panties, g-strings and loads of different suspender belts.’
Jack began dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief and, with a glazed faraway look in his eyes, muttered softly to himself, ‘If I shut my eyes and concentrate really hard, I can just about remember suspender belts. Oh my God,
those
were the days.’
‘Easy there, tiger. I don’t know if I should tell you any more details, but she also has enough sex toys and vibrators stashed in her wardrobe to keep the local women’s guild bright eyed and rosy cheeked for the next ten years. Then I had a quick look at her laptop, which was charging on her dressing table, and that was the real clincher. Her browsing history is filled with online hook-up sites and links to dogging locations. She’s also got a hilarious folder on the desktop, marked
“
To Do List” which doesn’t contain any lists of shopping, or jobs to do in the garden, but is filled with pictures of men dressed in BDSM gear.’
‘I’m nodding my head, Annie, but I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Jack. ‘You lost me back there at the suspender belts. Did you say BSM gear? So are
all
these guys driving instructors?’
‘No, it’s not BSM, boss, it’s BDSM. That’s a whole different thing altogether, trust me. You don’t need to have L-plates, or know how to do a three-point turn, to get involved in BDSM. Although, now I come to think about it, being able to execute a really fast emergency stop might be very useful.’
‘Excuse my ignorance, Annie, but what
is
BDSM? I’m not familiar with the term at all.’
‘Oh dear, where to begin? It might be easier, if I just showed you what the well-dressed BDSM man about town is wearing this summer? I took a few pictures with my iPhone, of some of the images on her laptop.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Jack, hesitantly. ‘Remember, I’ve not had my lunch yet.’
Annie then passed him her phone showing several images of men wearing bondage and fetish outfits. Made of black leather or rubber, they featured numerous zips, chains, buckles and metal studs and, to enhance their bizarre appearance, the men all wore some form of face mask and sported elaborate cock rings.
‘It’s incredible, no?’ said Annie, shaking her head.
‘Bloody hell, I have to say, this is
not
a good look,’ replied Jack. ‘It’s just wrong on
so
many levels.’
‘It certainly doesn’t do anything for me, but if it’s all consensual and no one’s being forced to do anything against their will … hey, why not? Whatever floats your boat, right?’
‘Honestly, Annie, I think if I’d stepped out of the bathroom on a Saturday night, wearing an outfit like that, my wife would probably have dived straight through the bedroom window and ran off screaming down the street.’
‘You never know, boss, she might have liked it. But the idea, as far as I know, is that
all
of the participants wear the same kind of kit. It’s for people who like to be different, kind of edgy. Like the song says, take a walk on the wild side, you know. I‘ve heard that a few clubs, and even pubs, in Glasgow now have regular themed BDSM nights.’
‘It’s bloody different all right,’ spluttered Jack. ‘I’ll tell you something, for nothing, I can see major problems trying to hail a taxi, outside the Royal Bar at chucking out time, dressed like
that
.’
Up ahead the little convertible indicated a right turn and then swung off the main road into a deserted Forestry Commission car park, which was encircled by mature pine trees. Annie drove fifty yards past the entrance, parked on the grass verge and said, ‘If I stop here, we should be able to double back through the trees and see what’s happening.’
Ten minutes later, well hidden in the dense undergrowth surrounding the car park, with cameras at the ready, they observed a white plumber’s van, driven by a strapping young man, pull into the car park right alongside the Mercedes. The van’s unique signage proudly proclaimed,
“
Call me day or night if your U-Bend needs rodding”.
Jack whispered,
‘Okay then, Annie, lights camera … action. Which one’s your money on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well there’s not much room in the back of the Merc, is there?’
Catching on, Annie paused before saying,
‘Oh right, well the van then I suppose. Not very romantic though, is it?’
‘I don’t think this is about romance,’ said Jack, thoughtfully. ‘It’s all about trying to recapture lost youth and a craving for excitement, in an otherwise dull, grey existence. Apparently, for some people, having a good sweaty shag in the back of a workie’s van does the trick.’
Annie then asked innocently,
‘That was very perceptive, boss, for
you
. You sound like you know a
fair
bit about this sort of thing.’
‘Not really,’ said Jack. ‘I always pay
my
plumber in cash.’
As the randy plumber opened the back door and thoughtfully spread a dust sheet over the floor
of his van, Annie nudged Jack and pointed across the car park. ‘I don’t believe it, I think there’s somebody else with a camera over there in the bushes. I saw the sun reflecting off the lens … see,
there
.’
‘Christ you’re right, what the hell’s going on?’
‘It can’t be
another
private detective, can it?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.’
Jack then crawled away through the undergrowth and eventually squatted down beside the stranger with the camera. The man appeared quite unconcerned by his arrival and nodded in greeting, then smiled and enquired, ‘All right mate? I saw you and your pal over there but, believe me,
this
spot gives you a much better viewing angle.’
He then proudly showed Jack his compact video camera and said, ‘My new toy.
This little baby’s got a thirty times optical lens, so I should be able to see the back of her tonsils with it. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, have I?’
‘No, I’ve never, ahem …’
‘Thought so, never forget a face. Or a
fanny
.’
Sniggering, he went on, ‘Yeah, that’s my specialist subject, faces and fannies.’
Still not sure what exactly was going on, Jack prompted,
‘So you’re a regular here, then?’
The man with the camera was happy to explain and give some tips to the new man, ‘Well you need a hobby when you retire, don’t you? I mean, I tried golf but I was useless at it. Anyway, this is
much
more sociable. You can get half a dozen regulars here sometimes, if the weather’s nice. I usually come on Tuesdays and Thursdays and often make a day of it with a picnic. My wife thinks I’m away bird spotting, which is kind of true, I suppose. Oh, but you
have
to remember to check the website every day, you know, to see if there have been any last minute changes.’
‘The website?’
‘You know,
Doggin’ in Dumfries.
’
None the wiser, Jack said
,
‘Oh right,
that
one. So, if you don’t mind me asking, do you just watch, or can you sometimes join in?’
‘Yeah, I just watch, but some of the other guys get the odd blow job or, if they’re really lucky, a ride from some of the women who come here in their cars. It’s not unusual to see a big queue of men waiting patiently round a single car, all with their cocks hanging out, hoping to get gobbled.’
Nudging Jack with his elbow the man then focused his camera on the back doors of the plumber’s van, which had just been fully opened, clearly to facilitate viewing of the impending action by any watchers in the undergrowth.
‘Okay, here we go then mate, get ready. Christ
what
a body this one’s got for an older bird. Yeah, she’s one of my favourites. A regular, here like clockwork every week she is. But she never hooks up with the same guy twice.
Fantastic
… go on my son, get
in
there
, give her one for me. I tell you what mate, some of these older women are
really
amazing. They can bang away for hours, like a shit house door in a gale. I sometimes get exhausted just watching them.’
After taking several pictures, Jack turned away from the action, suddenly feeling slightly queasy, and commented to his new friend, ‘He
might
have taken his safety boots off. Anyway, I think I’ll, ahem, head off and leave you to it.’
The man with a camera nodded cheerily and replied,
‘
Yeah, no worries mate, see you again. But you should really think about getting yourself one of these lightweight cameras. Remember, you only need
one
hand to operate it and it’s got anti-shake built in, which is
very
handy. Know what I mean?’
Jack then re-joined Annie, who was scrolling through her own pictures. She also appeared to be slightly downbeat and embarrassed. ‘I think I’ve got enough pictures of Mrs Blake, probably more than enough.’
Looking over her shoulder at the pictures, Jack whistled through his teeth and chuckled, ‘Well they’re certainly going to cause a stir down at the local chemist, when we get the prints made.’
Annie patiently explained to her technophobe employer how the new technology works. ‘We don’t need to go to the chemist any more, boss. I’ve got a great little colour inkjet printer with me, that has a Bluetooth connection to the MacBook. So I can edit and print off the ones we need for the report.’
‘Anyway, we better not show old Mr Blake any pictures that are
too
wild, in case he drops dead with a heart attack before he has a chance to write our cheque.’
Annie then surprised herself by feeling a slight tinge of sympathy for old man Blake. ‘What do you think he’ll do when he finds out what his wife’s been up to?’
‘That’s anybody’s guess, Annie. I mean he thought she was out jogging today,
not
dogging.
Big
difference, but there again he did know something was going on, so I think he’s been half-expecting bad news. But obviously he doesn’t know yet just
how
bad things are, so you never know how he might react. He might kick her out and get a divorce lawyer on the phone, or he could go into his study and down a couple of stiff whiskies, before reaching for the old pearl handled revolver and ending it all. Who knows, he might even forgive her to preserve, as he put it, their social standing in the local community.’
Her brief sympathy moment having blown through, Annie then helpfully suggested, ‘I suppose if he
really
wanted to re-kindle the flames of passion with the wife, he could leap out from the bushes at the car park next Tuesday afternoon, then dive into the back of the van dressed in the full BDSM gear, and join in the action. What do you think?’
Jack chuckled at the thought. ‘I would definitely come back to get pictures of
that
. So tell me, had you heard of this dogging malarkey, before this job came along?’
Annie nodded, ‘Only the little bits that I’ve read on the internet. As far as I know, it’s usually about couples making out in cars, while a bunch of perverts watch from the bushes, or even join in. With the location and time advertised in advance on the internet. I really don’t get it at all. It’s crazy stuff, especially with the weather we get here in Scotland.’
Jack was genuinely shocked and, not for the first time, felt very old and out of touch. ‘It’s incredible, I had absolutely
no
idea that this kind of thing went on.’
‘Amazingly it
does
seem to be quite popular. I think the women who are into it must crave attention, or be complete exhibitionists, acting out their darkest fantasies. It also looks pretty dangerous to me, especially if it happens at night, trying to hook up with complete strangers.
And
it’s probably a guaranteed way to pick up every STD in the book. But there you go, they’re all consenting adults.’
Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, trying hard to understand
,
Jack muttered
,
‘I suppose if there’s no live football on the television of an evening, well, fair enough, it might pass an hour or two. But what do I know? The way things are going these days, dogging will probably appear in the Olympics in a few years. Right enough, it could be Scotland’s best chance of winning a gold medal.’