Widows

Chapter 37

Alice knew she could get into trouble if she got caught, possibly even lose her job, but she was doing it because George Resnick had asked her to.

She’d been in the office since 6 a.m.; no other admin staff were about this early to see what she was up to. Picking up the files and the neatly typed notes from her desk, she put them all into a plastic bag, hurried off down the corridor and out of the station. None of the night shift officers gave her a second look as she passed them.

As arranged, Resnick was waiting for Alice in the greasy spoon round the corner. He was slurping on a coffee and eating a sausage and egg sandwich covered in HP sauce when she arrived. He waved to the waitress as Alice sat down. ‘Nice to see you, girl.’ He smiled, showing little bits of sausage skin between his teeth.

‘And you, sir,’ Alice replied, eyeing the brown sauce dribbling down Resnick’s fingers. If he got any of that on the files, everyone would know exactly who’d been handling them. Resnick was forever spilling things on important paperwork and all his files had been decorated with coffee rings from his dirty mug.

The waitress brought a pot of tea to Alice and Resnick beamed. Alice hated tea, but she accepted it with thanks: it was rare that Resnick bought anyone anything. She got up and collected a pile of napkins from the counter and handed them to Resnick, waiting until he’d obediently wiped his mucky hands before handing him the first file. Then she gave him a summary of the most important bits of information.

‘You won’t find much there about Jimmy Nunn. He’s got no criminal record so I got everything from the Social. He’d had high hopes of being a racing driver, and he’s got two traffic convictions for reckless driving and speeding. Married to Trudie, one child aged six months. Receiving Child Benefit, non-taxpayer, unemployed for two years and, according to the dole office, he hasn’t claimed for the past two months.’

‘Why hasn’t he claimed, Alice?’ Resnick asked. ‘Prison? No. Traveling? Probably not if he’s got a six-month-old kid. Employed? Doubtful, after two years of skiving. Dead?’ He glanced up at Alice and she could almost hear the cogs turning.

Alice passed Resnick the second, larger file. ‘William Grant was released from Brixton prison nine months ago,’ she said. ‘Grievous bodily harm, robbery, arson.’

‘Murder?’ Resnick asked.

Alice poured herself a cup of tea. ‘No murder convictions. But you’ll see that his crimes are — what’s the word?’

‘Random?’ Resnick suggested.

‘Yes. Often no connection to the victim, nothing stolen... it’s as though he was acting on behalf of someone else and getting his money that way.’

Resnick smiled again. He loved the way Alice’s brain sometimes worked like his. She had superb gut instinct. ‘You’re right, Alice. He’s a hired thug. The last time I put him inside, he was “no comment” from the get-go.’ Resnick looked at the photo. It was definitely the same man he had seen leaving Jimmy Nunn’s house.

‘And now...’ Alice passed Resnick the third file — the file on the latest security wagon raid.

Resnick read fast. It was page after page of textbook Harry Rawlins MO. He knew it was Harry bloody Rawlins. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. ‘I’ve got him, Alice. We’ve only bloody well got the bastard!’

Alice checked her watch. Any moment now the day shift could come in for their morning fry-up. ‘Sir — you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’ she asked.

Resnick closed the file and handed it back to Alice, who put all the files back into the carrier bag. He smiled again. ‘I’m on my way back, Alice. They were all wrong about Harry Rawlins being dead. And I’m going to show them.’ He looked at Alice’s worried face, her big hands clutching the plastic bag to her bosom. He leaned across the table and placed a big wet kiss on her cheek. ‘Don’t worry about me. I don’t like to see you worried — especially about me.’

Alice managed a quivering smile before she got up and left the cafe. Her heart was pounding, partly because she knew Resnick was now going after Harry Rawlins on his own and partly because she could still feel his warm, sticky lips on her cheek.

Instead of going straight to tell Harry about the arrival of the mystery woman at Dolly’s house, Bill Grant had taken a detour via the lock-ups by Liverpool Street. He reasoned that the mystery woman had to be part of the robbery team. Harry was preparing to come out into the open and confront Dolly at the house. If the money was there, Bill would get his measly cut and Harry would get the lion’s share. But if the money was at the lock-up and Bill found it on his own — well, then, screw Harry Rawlins.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed as he searched every nook and cranny of the lock-up. He’d found nothing, and when he’d looked at his watch, he’d realized it was after 7 a.m. He was an hour late: he’d been supposed to pick up Harry at six...

When he got to Trudie’s, Bill parked up and ran from the car up the stairs to the flat, breathing heavily as he knocked on the door.

Trudie opened it. She looked him up and down as if he was lowlife. ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Harry expected you an hour ago.’

Bill tapped his watch as he entered the lounge. ‘Sorry, Harry. This thing’s on the blink again. Nothing’s happening at your place anyway: they’re like sitting ducks.’

‘Really?’ Harry said. ‘Then someone’s lying.’ He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, white crew neck T-shirt, blue jumper and trainers.

‘What do you mean?’ Bill said nervously.

Harry closed in on Bill, his stare menacing. ‘Where you been, Bill? What you been up to?’

‘I did grab a quick bit of shut-eye after I left Eddie — I’m knackered, Harry.’ Bill didn’t dare tell him he’d been to the lock-up. He saw the look of simmering anger on Harry’s face. ‘What’s happened?’

Harry’s eyes lit up with rage. ‘While you was kippin’, Doll pulled a fast one on the pair of you! She got someone to dress up as her and drive away in the Merc. That prick Eddie fell for it and now we don’t have a fuckin’ clue where Dolly’s gone. And you can guarantee the money ain’t in the house now.’

It was beginning to dawn on Bill that he’d messed up big time. ‘So, where’s Eddie now?’

‘He phoned me earlier, his car’s knackered so he’s making his way here by bus. When he arrives, we’re all going to the house to tear it apart. There’ll be something there; some clue as to where Dolly’s gone or where she’s stashed the money.’

Dolly pulled up outside Victoria bus station to drop Shirley off. Shirley would get the bus to Heathrow and Dolly would continue by car, so nobody would suspect they were traveling together. The street was pretty busy, even at that time of the morning, and the idea of being jostled about by strangers with a hundred grand in a suitcase was sending Shirley into a panic.

‘I can’t do this, Dolly. I want to stay with you.’ All her earlier bravado had disappeared.

Dolly, on the other hand, was now back in complete control. ‘I’d like us to stay together as well, darlin’,’ she lied. ‘But you know why we have to split up. We can’t be seen arriving at the airport together in the same car. No one can suspect we even know each other. Come on.’

She got out of the car, opened the boot and heaved the money case and Shirley’s case out onto the street, setting them down just outside the passenger door. Through the window, Dolly could see that Shirley had her head dipped and was crying. Bleedin’ ’ell, Dolly thought to herself. She’s all I need! Getting back into the car, she said in a loving voice, ‘Go on, darlin’. Couple of hours and we’ll be in the air. This time tomorrow, we’ll be by the pool with Linda and Bella sipping — well, sipping whatever the hell they drink in Rio.’

Shirley looked at Dolly with her puppy-dog eyes. ‘All right,’ Dolly said finally. ‘You can stick with me. Go and put the cases back in the boot.’

As soon as Shirley was out of the car, Dolly chucked her handbag out after her, slammed the passenger door shut, started the engine and was off up the road before Shirley realized what was happening. She was about to shout and curse after Dolly... then she looked around and decided against it. The idea of drawing attention to herself was even more frightening than the idea of making her way to Heathrow all on her own.

Eddie arrived at Jimmy Nunn’s, exhausted and sweating. The bus hadn’t come and he’d had to run over a mile. When Harry opened the door, he dragged Eddie in by his scarf, tightening it so hard that Eddie’s face went blue. Eddie feebly pushed at Harry’s solid shoulders, but Harry didn’t shift an inch.

Harry spoke calm and low. ‘You’re a fucking waste of skin, Eddie, you know that? If I killed you right here and now, who’d miss you? Eh? The bookies. And that’s only a maybe.’ Eddie’s eyes bulged in his head as his face turned purple and his hands screwed Harry’s jumper up in his fists. Harry stared into Eddie’s eyes and waited for him to stop moving.

From behind Harry, Bill spoke. ‘This ain’t a good place to remove a body from, Harry. Way too busy.’ Harry released his grip on the scarf and Eddie fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Bill helped him up onto the sofa and sat beside him.

Harry paced up and down in front of them, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. ‘If she’s gone — if the money’s gone — I’m going to kill the pair of you. Starting with you.’ Harry pointed his finger at Eddie.

Eddie was terrified. Inadvertently, he let out a small giggle. Harry tore across the room, ready to beat him to death. Bill stood up and stepped in between them to catch Harry. With all his might, he pushed the furious man backward.

‘I said not here!’ Bill shouted, hoping to God that Harry would listen. ‘I’m trying to help you, Harry! He might be a useless piece of shit, but this is your home. Your girl and your kid are just through there. If you want him dead, fine, I’ll do it meself when all this is over. When we got the money and Dolly’s got what’s coming to her for making you look like a fool. It’s her you’re angry at, Harry, not him. He’s nothing.’

The red mist faded, Harry slowly calmed down and turned away from Eddie to stop himself losing it again. Bill glanced at Eddie and gave him a small wink. It was like being smiled at by a crocodile before heading in for a swim.

‘We’re going to go back to the house,’ Harry said, ‘and we’re going to tear it apart.’ He snatched up his coat. ‘COME ON!’

From the bedroom, Trudie raced out and grabbed Harry’s arm. ‘Please, Harry! It’s daylight. I’m begging you not to go out. If anyone sees you, that’s it. It’s all over.’

Harry lurched toward Eddie and grabbed his scarf again. Eddie nearly pissed himself on the spot but Harry put the scarf round his own neck, pulling it up to cover his nose and mouth.

For a split second, it had occurred to Bill that he and Eddie might stand up to Harry together: he couldn’t take the two of them on in a fight. The thought was short-lived as he watched a quivering Eddie rub his sore neck and attempt to walk in a straight line, and the two of them followed Harry out of the flat.

Trudie ran to the window just in time to see the three men get into Jimmy’s BMW. As Trudie watched Bill drive off, she noticed a car parked a short distance away pull out at the same time. It stopped and didn’t move off again until another car was sitting between it and the BMW. At the end of the road, the BMW turned left, the car immediately behind it turned right but the suspect car waited for a van to pass and sit behind the BMW before it pulled out, also turning to the left.

Trudie slammed her hands on the window. There was nothing she could do. She didn’t even know where Harry had lived with Dolly.

The baby screamed from the bedroom. Trudie knew exactly how he felt: she too wanted to open up her lungs and let it all out. It was all going horribly wrong. Harry had been so careful for so long, and then Dolly soddin’ Rawlins had to go and do one of his robberies! The stupid cow. The stupid, old, ugly cow!

Trudie raced into the bedroom and shouted, ‘SHUT UP!’ The baby, who was sitting in his playpen, howling for no apparent reason, turned up the volume. Trudie felt as if her world was about to collapse around her and she suddenly snapped and slapped the child hard. Instantly mortified, she picked him up and squeezed him tight. Shaken by the slap, the baby fell silent, while Trudie sobbed her heart out.

Shirley waited nervously at Heathrow as the bus driver lifted the cases from the luggage compartment. Just wait till I see her, she thought angrily to herself. I’ll tell her what I think. And I’ll tell the girls that she left me in the street. Linda will hate her even more when she hears that! She realized that she sounded like a petty, sulky child but, right now, this anger was helping her keep her focus.

She got a trolley, placed the two cases on it and, entering the terminal, checked the illuminated notice board for the Rio flight check-in desk. Pushing her trolley over to the check-in queue, she took some deep breaths and got down to the job of looking over the passengers for an appropriate stooge. ‘Young bloke, very little luggage...’ she repeated to herself. The thought of flirting with a total stranger filled her with dread. She was surprisingly bad at flirting, except with judging panels at beauty competitions. She took a moment to get her head straight and then practiced fluttering her eyelashes.

After about twenty minutes, she began to feel scared. Everyone in the queue so far had big cases — and she hadn’t spotted Dolly anywhere. What if the plan failed at the first hurdle because she couldn’t find a single gullible man traveling light?

Shirley wheeled the trolley up and down, watching and waiting. Fifteen more minutes passed with no one suitable joining the queue. She began to get edgy: she might have to risk taking the case herself and paying for the excess luggage with the cash she’d put into her handbag. She didn’t want to do that as the serial numbers on bank notes could be traced.

Suddenly she saw a likely candidate. A scruffy-looking young man with only a rucksack had joined the end of the queue and was checking over his flight papers. Shirley grabbed her ticket and passport out of her handbag, quickly pushed her way in behind him and clipped his heel with the trolley.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bump you. Is this the queue for the Rio flight?’ Pretending to be flustered, she dropped her ticket and passport. He bent to pick them up for her and handed them back. ‘I’ve been such a silly thing,’ Shirley continued, playing the dumb blonde beautifully. ‘I’m a model and I’m doing my very first foreign magazine shoot in Rio. I didn’t realize there was a weight restriction on the luggage and I’ve brought two cases filled with dresses and bikinis. Now I’m worried that I’m way over the allowance and I can’t think what on earth to do because I’ve got no money to pay for extra luggage. I really do need seventeen bikinis though and...’

She didn’t even have to finish her sentence. ‘Why don’t you let me help you out?’ the young man said, and moved to grab Shirley’s own case from the trolley. She put her hand on top of his.

‘The other one’s a little heavier,’ she said, ‘so if you don’t mind...?’

He clearly didn’t mind. He gave her a quick wink and picked up the money case as he shuffled forward.

Feeling very chuffed with herself, Shirley kept up the polite chat as they queued for check in. He smelt of body odor, looked unwashed and unkempt, but his voice suggested that he was well educated, although clearly not very streetwise. She was relieved to watch her new friend, who told her his name was Charles, check in and put the money case on the conveyor belt. The attendant placed a sticky luggage tag around the handle and Shirley watched her hundred grand head for the plane.

When it was Shirley’s turn to check in, she whispered to the lady at the desk, ‘Please can you make sure I’m not sitting near that man?’ The lady glanced at Charles, smiled her understanding and with female solidarity sat Shirley a good ten rows away from him.

Charles hovered around her through passport control and into the departure lounge. He rambled on about how he traveled to different destinations and how he had hitchhiked his way across countries, sightseeing and doing all sorts of jobs to pay his way. His parents were wealthy but he refused to sponge off them and always found the cheapest and most economical ways to travel. Oh, my God! Shirley thought to herself as she sipped the champagne Charles had bought her, he’s so boring! Eventually, she made her excuses and said that she had some important calls to make to her agent prior to boarding.

Shirley looked in every restaurant, burger bar, pub and wine bar — even the bathrooms — but she couldn’t see Dolly anywhere. It was as if Dolly wasn’t taking the flight to Rio at all. Shirley knew she couldn’t turn back, not now the money bag was on the plane: she’d have to go to Rio and tell Bella and Linda that they’d all been stiffed! She took deep breaths as she thought through her plan of action. They’d all have to return to London on the next flight and go to the convent and — oh, God, what if the rest of the money wasn’t there? What if it was never there? What if — Shirley’s head was about to explode when she suddenly saw the one area of the airport she hadn’t searched. And there, in the window of the first class lounge, was Dolly bloody Rawlins, eating her breakfast.

Bill Grant adjusted the mirror again and looked behind them. ‘It ain’t an Old Bill car, but he’s definitely keeping one vehicle in between us and him.’

‘Classic filth technique.’ Eddie sounded panicked.

Harry checked out the car, sat back in his seat and shook his head. ‘No matter how many times you swat some flies, they always come back for more.’ There was real hatred in Harry’s voice. The other two didn’t ask for further details.

‘Do I keep going?’ said Bill. Going to Dolly’s house in broad daylight was a bad idea, especially if someone was tailing them.

‘Nothing changes,’ Harry growled. He looked in the rearview mirror again, just to be sure, and spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Jesus Christ, I thought I’d done his legs and seen the last of him years ago. He followed me about for years like a bloodhound on the scent of his biggest kill. He got close, real close.’

‘And now he’s back,’ said Bill.

Harry wondered how on earth Resnick could be on to him. How could he know he was still alive? Maybe he didn’t... maybe he was watching Eddie and Bill over the murder of Boxer Davis? Harry pulled the scarf a little further up his face. He was confident he hadn’t been seen when they left Jimmy’s flat and he doubted Resnick would recognize him from just his eyes, not after so many years. He smiled behind the scarf. If Bill and Eddie got nicked for Boxer, that wasn’t his problem.

Bill couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘He’s filth then, is he?’

‘The bloke on our tail is none other than the infamous Detective Inspector George Resnick.’

‘Shit! What we gonna do, Harry?’ Eddie bleated.

‘Don’t worry, son, Resnick’s luck just ran out for good,’ Harry said.

Bill pulled up a good fifty yards from Dolly’s house and Resnick had no choice but to drive on past them. His intention was to go round the block, double back on himself and park up at a safe distance without, he thought, being seen. But as Resnick drove past, Harry taunted the old man by pulling the scarf down to his chin, revealing his face. The inside of the car was too dark for Resnick to be certain; but the speed at which his heart rate increased told him that the man he’d just seen was Harry Rawlins...

Harry was quick to bark his orders. ‘Eddie, open the garage. Bill — he’s all yours.’ Eddie raced across the street as instructed; Bill got out of the car and hid behind the hedge; Harry slipped across to the driver’s seat and drove the BMW into the garage.

Now parked opposite, Resnick sat staring at the Rawlins house. His fists gripped the steering wheel and, when he unclenched them, his hands trembled like jelly. He watched Eddie close one garage door behind the BMW, and then another man came out of the garage and closed the second door. This man paused, looked straight at Resnick and lit a cigarette. Briefly, the flame illuminated every feature of the face Resnick had been chasing for so many years. ‘Rawlins!’ Resnick whispered. A broad smile crept across Resnick’s face. He was right! He was always right!

He was taken completely by surprise when the driver’s door was yanked open and blow after blow from Bill’s knuckle duster rained down on his face. Trapped by the steering wheel, Resnick couldn’t get away or defend himself properly. He raised his hands to try and deflect the punches but it was too late. His head reeled backward and forward from the savage attack and then he felt a hand grab his hair and repeatedly smash his face into the steering wheel. As he started to slip into unconsciousness, lights flashed before his eyes, reds, blues, yellows, a mass of bright rainbow colors. He heard the sound of his nose crunching and breaking as Bill’s fist slammed into his face again. And all Resnick could do was wait to pass out, so the terrible pain would end.

Eventually, he went limp and he fell sideways, his upper body hanging partially out the car. Bill stepped back and kicked out as hard as he could at Resnick’s head, causing it to snap back and shift over toward the passenger’s seat. Looking up and down the street, Bill slammed the car door shut, slipped his knuckle duster back into his pocket and casually crossed back toward the house. The vicious attack on Resnick had taken less than thirty seconds.

Although Bill thought he’d slammed the car door shut, Resnick’s right arm had been caught in it. The blood streamed down his fingers, his face was covered in blood, but he felt no pain now, just the cool air as the door slowly, inch by inch, swung open and away from his shattered fingers. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t cry out. Unable to open his swollen, bleeding eyes, Resnick simply sat and waited to be found.

As Bill jogged across the road and disappeared into the darkness of Dolly’s garage, a man out walking his dog headed toward Resnick’s car.

When Bill slipped in through the gap in the garage door, Eddie was already searching.

‘Harry’s upstairs,’ he said to Bill.

Bill went through to the lounge, where he opened a flick knife and started to cut into the sofa and cushions, the same cushions that had already been slashed by Tony Fisher and neatly sewn up again by Dolly. He was getting Resnick’s blood on the fabric, but he figured that didn’t matter now.

Upstairs, Harry stood in the doorway of the empty nursery. There wasn’t a scrap of furniture left; only the pale blue wallpaper with dancing teddy bears told him that this had been his son’s bedroom. His nostrils flared as a strange and painful anger filled his soul. Wherever Dolly was, he now knew that she had no intention of ever coming back. This room had meant everything. Wolf had meant everything. He had meant everything. All gone. She had nothing to come back for.

In the guest room, the unmade bed told Harry that blondie had stayed the night. He searched, but found nothing. He was seething with fury: he had to find something quickly now, anything that would lead him to the money. Dolly had a clear head start and she was covering her tracks well. If he didn’t find some clue as to where she’d gone — and fast — then the game was up and he’d be left with nothing.

In the master bedroom, he was confronted by a smell of burning and a picture of destruction — the strewn cosmetics, the smashed and trampled photo frame. Dolly was naturally such a pristine woman. He knew this room like the back of this hand but now couldn’t tell if anything was out of place, because everything was out of place. Harry picked up a spilled bottle of face cream and set it back on the dressing table, and then he picked up the smashed photo frame and put it back on the table next to Dolly’s side of the bed. He crossed to her wardrobe, opened it, and saw there were clothes and shoes missing. Then he crossed to his own wardrobe, and discovered that everything had been slashed, torn or stained with nail varnish. ‘Bitch!’ he hissed. Not because of the lost clothes, but because of the hatred Dolly must have felt for him as she destroyed the designer labels he valued so highly. This was the act of a betrayed woman, a woman in pain — and a woman with nothing left to lose. There was no doubt Dolly knew he was alive.

The last remnants of Harry’s old life hung in tatters before his eyes. As he slammed the wardrobe shut, the mirror on the outside of the door shattered.

‘Seven years bad—’ Standing in the bedroom doorway, Eddie shut his own mouth before Harry shut it for him.

Harry followed his nose to the metal waste bin and saw charred paper at the bottom. It wasn’t at all clear what this was, but the cut-up leather book covers could only mean one thing. He reached into the bin, picked up a handful of ashes and let them fall between his fingers like black snow. His ledgers. His ledgers were gone. He clenched his fists; he wanted to scream at the top of his voice. He had nothing and Dolly, it seemed, had everything. How dare she? How fucking dare she do this? ‘I’ll kill you,’ he whispered. ‘I swear to God I’ll kill you myself.’

Eddie couldn’t hear Harry’s words and had no idea what he had just discovered. ‘I’ll carry on searching, shall I?’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about the mess, Harry. Your Trudie will have this ship-shape in no time at all. And your nursery will finally get a bit of use—’

Harry erupted in sheer, uncontrolled anger and kicked Eddie in the balls, sending him crumpling to his knees. He wanted to kill Eddie, wanted to rip his heart out and feed it to him, but the weasely little runt wasn’t worth the effort. Harry spun round, let out a huge roar and slammed his fist into the wardrobe door, punching a hole straight though the wood. Splinters shot into his hand, but he didn’t feel a thing.

As Eddie whimpered from the carpet, Bill ran up the stairs.

‘Harry, come and see...’ Bill stopped at the sight of Harry standing, shoulders hunched, chest heaving and blood dripping from his knuckles. His hooded eyes were as angry as the devil himself. Bill thought Harry had flipped beyond the point of no return and, if he had, then Bill was out of here — he was a cautious thug, never killing or maiming in anger, always with controlled violence. He said what he’d come up to say, in case Harry was capable of snapping back to reality. ‘I found something in the garden. Something buried. You interested or do you just want to kill everybody?’

Harry’s eyes blinked and the glazed look disappeared. He was just stepping over Eddie, who was still on the floor nursing his balls, when the phone rang. Harry froze. He took his time to cross the bedroom and, two rings in, the phone stopped. Harry stopped. The phone rang again and, this time, it kept on ringing. He stood over the phone, his hand outstretched toward it. He knew it was Dolly; it had to be. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of answering, but he had to. He sat on the bed and slowly picked up the receiver. No one spoke, yet through the echo of eerie silence he could sense her. ‘That you, Doll?’

The line went dead.

Harry ripped the phone from the socket and hurled it across the room.