Ways to Die in Glasgow (Sam Ireland Mysteries, #1)

by Jay Stringer

Old properties in Glasgow had a habit of burning down in time for new developers to come in,

Blythswood Square was a small, fenced-off garden which used to be one of Glasgow’s most notorious red light districts. By day you’d pay to get screwed by lawyers, and by night you’d pay for the real thing. The council and cops had worked together to try and clean up the square; they’d cut back all the bushes and trees, and mounted large metal fences around the garden with gates that were locked at night. Now the hookers had moved further down the hill, towards the riverfront, and the solicitors were all a lot more tense.

Anderson was a Glasgow celebrity. Which is one way of saying dangerous.

the key to management was to issue a command and then get moving before anyone could disagree with it.

Break a written rule and people noticed—they judged you; but break an unwritten rule, and they never forgave you.

If you don’t feel nervous when you see a copper, there’s something wrong with you.

‘Why the fuck would I want a gun? Would you ask a man who’s just been bitten by a shark if he wants to buy a shark?’

‘You Weegies. You love the city—until it’s time to burn part of it down.’ ‘It’s ours to burn.

Nobody wanted to see their parents as human beings, not really. We wanted them to be the same mythical figures they used to be when we were kids, as solid and dependable.

‘Okay, so he didn’t kill himself.’ ‘Well, it’s possible he did, but he did it by beating himself to death before jumping in the river.’ ‘Was that a joke?’ ‘I thought I’d make an effort. Enjoy the investigation.’

Glasgow, for all its bravado, was a city that couldn’t handle its drink. It got loud, angry and sloppy. Men, women and crazed hen parties trotting up and down the streets, falling over and throwing up.

City life always had ways of showing how little it cared about you. If you were a woman, Glasgow had a few extra.

Honest-to-goodness Scottish weather for the first time in a month. I looked forward to it. I looked forward to moaning about it.

The lights looked like they had been specifically designed for the exact right pitch for drinkers. Dark enough to protect the fledgling hangovers and put people at ease, but bright enough to remind everyone not to fall asleep.