“We gave her such a hard time, Bella,” Linda said. “But here we are with all the money. We could just as easily put it in my boot as in hers. She never questioned us once and I just feel—”
Bella slammed the boot of the Merc. “She knows.”
Opening the boot of Linda’s Capri, they took some clothes from their suitcases and went down the stairwell to the ladies’ toilet on the ground floor to change. There was no sign of Shirley, so they both assumed that she had disposed of her overall and gone straight off in the clothes she had on underneath.
Having regained her composure, Dolly left the toilets. As luck would have it, a rubbish truck was held up in traffic, so as she walked casually by the rear of it she threw her holdall into the back. Crossing the market square, she headed up James Street to Covent Garden tube station, which was by now bustling with commuters on their way to work. She bought a day travel card and headed slowly down the long flight of stairs to the platform. She could hear the rumble of the trains down below. It felt good to have finally stopped running.
Linda was changed and ready to leave in no time, though her hand was shaking so badly that she’d smudged her lipstick over her cheek and had to redo it twice. Bella and Linda gave each other a big hug before going their separate ways. Bella, now wearing a smart coat and matching chic hat, walked from the car park carrying her suitcase and hailed a taxi on the main road. “Luton Airport, darlin’,” she said as she got in the cab.
The taxi driver couldn’t believe his luck. “Glad to get out of the city, miss,” he said. “I’ve had a hell of a morning! Something was up in the Strand underpass first thing. There’s been massive traffic jams . . .”
Dolly got off the tube two stops along at Piccadilly Circus, crossed the platform and took the next tube back to Covent Garden. She stood at the bottom of the deep stairwell and looked up briefly before deciding the lift was a better option: she’d had enough exercise for one day. Once out in the street, she walked casually toward the car park, taking a moment here and there to do some window-shopping. Police cars were patrolling slowly up and down Long Acre, but elsewhere traffic had come to a standstill. It didn’t worry her. She’d no need to make a fast getaway now. She was just another woman out on a shopping trip.
As Linda drove out of the car park along level one, she saw Shirley’s car, stopped and got out to see what was up. Shirley was sitting in the driver’s seat, still in her overalls, hunched over in agony. Linda opened the car door. This wasn’t good. Shirley should have been on her way ages ago. They had planes to catch.
“Come on, girl,” Linda said. “I know you’re in pain, but you gotta work through it for now. At least get that overall off and, when you get to the airport, you can nip to the loo and change.”
Shirley limped out of the car and supported herself on the roof, while Linda helped her out of the overalls and put them in a bin bag.
“I’ll bin these for you,” Linda said. “You pick up the pace now. Let’s get back on track.”
Shirley got back in the car, opened the glove box and removed some make-up. She looked up at Linda through her tears and gave her a weak smile.
Linda laughed. “No matter what happens, you always have to look your best, don’t you?” Returning to her Capri, she drove off.
As she entered the car park, Dolly saw Linda’s car drive off down the road. The relief she felt was so overwhelming, she could hardly stop herself running up the stairwell to her Merc. When she reached the top level and opened the boot, she smiled. All three rucksacks were neatly laid together. Once in the car, Dolly opened the glove box, removed a wig and dark sunglasses and donned her second disguise of the day.
On the way out of the car park, she nearly hit Shirley’s Mini Estate as it lurched out of the parking bay, stopped and lurched forward again, hitting the car park wall and denting the bumper. Dolly screeched to a halt, jumped out and raced across to Shirley. Before Dolly could ask, Shirley had opened the window. She was in floods of tears.
“It’s my ankle,” she moaned. “I can’t hold the clutch down properly it hurts so much. I don’t know what—”
Dolly didn’t wait for her to finish. Pulling the door open, she helped Shirley out of the Mini and supported her as she limped over to the Merc. Dolly opened the passenger door, dropped the front seat down pushed Shirley onto the back. Shirley winced in pain.
“There’s a rug. Cover yourself—right over your head—and hurry. Where’re your flight tickets?” Dolly asked.
“In me handbag under the driver’s seat . . . and one of me plimsolls just fell off.”
Dolly ran to the Mini, retrieved Shirley’s handbag and plimsoll and chucked them on the back seat beside her.
“The keys, the keys, Dolly! They’re in the ignition. And my case—what about my case?”
Dolly slammed the passenger door shut and got back in the Merc. “There’s no room for your case and we have to go now. Shut up and cover yourself.”
With Shirley hidden by the blanket and sobbing in the back seat, Dolly began the drive to the airport. All around Covent Garden the police sirens screamed; traffic remained at a standstill. Dolly realized there was no way she was going to get Shirley to the airport anytime soon—and in any case being seen at an airport together would be a really bad idea, even if Dolly was only dropping her off. They’d have to go back to Dolly’s and work out their next move from there.
It was 9:45 a.m. when Dolly at last drove into Totteridge Lane, which was deserted apart from a few parked cars. Her heart thumped as she turned into her driveway. As she got out of the car to unlock the garage doors, she whispered to Shirley to stay covered and keep quiet. Shirley, head fully covered by the blanket, had no idea where she was.
Once inside the privacy of her garage, Dolly opened the passenger door and flipped the seat down. “We’re in the garage at my house, darlin’. You can come out now.”
As Dolly helped Shirley out of the car, the sound of the police sirens made them both freeze. They were getting closer and closer.
“Oh, my God, it’s the police, Dolly! They got us, Dolly . . . What we gonna do?” Shirley exclaimed, her voice getting higher-pitched with every word.
Resisting the temptation to slap Shirley, Dolly instead put her hand gently over her mouth. “Ssssh,” she said. Peering through the tiny window in the garage door, she saw a police car pulling up outside her house, blue light flashing. Two uniform and two plain-clothes officers got out and she recognized Detective Sergeant Fuller. Scurrying back over to Shirley, Dolly pushed her back into the rear seat of the car. “Cover yourself up again, don’t move or make a sound,” Dolly whispered. Ripping off her wig and dark glasses, she threw them on top of Shirley, and then covered her up again with the blanket.
Dolly unlocked the adjoining door from the garage into her kitchen. She had to think fast. Pulling off her sweater, she threw it in the utility room laundry basket, then she rummaged around until she found the dirty dressing gown she’d dropped in there the day before. Wolf leapt out of his basket with excitement on seeing her, yapping round her feet and jumping up and down with joy. Dolly flicked on the electric coffee percolator. She’d last used it at 6 a.m. and knew it was still at least three quarters full. “Not now, darling,” she said to Wolf. “Mummy’s got things on her mind.” Next, she opened a cupboard, took out a packet of cereal, emptied some into a bowl, grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and poured some over the cereal. She’d never moved so quickly in her life.
The doorbell started ringing. Someone was keeping their finger on the buzzer. Dolly bet her life it was that arrogant teenager, Fuller. Wolf ran toward the door, barking and jumping up at the shadows he could see though the stained glass.
Dolly opened a packet of Ryvita, took a deep breath, exhaled and then took a bite of the biscuit. The doorbell continued to ring. Trying to steady her breathing, Dolly shouted, “All right, all right, I’m comin’. I’m comin’!” Out in the hallway, she snatched Wolf up into her arms before fi
nally opening the door. As she thought, it was Fuller who was ringing. The other officers stood behind him waiting for their instructions.
Fuller walked right past Dolly into her hallway. He didn’t even bother to produce his warrant card. He almost pushed Dolly into the living room while one officer headed up the stairs, and the other two began a search of the downstairs rooms.
“Get dressed or put a coat on, Mrs. Rawlins. You’re coming to the station,” Fuller instructed.
“You’ve got no right! No bleedin’ right. You don’t even have a warrant!” Dolly shouted, poking her finger at him.
With a smug grin on his face, Fuller pulled a search warrant out of his coat pocket. “Want to bet?” he said, and headed toward Dolly’s kitchen.
Once Fuller was in her kitchen, only one door stood between him and her garage. Between him and Shirley. But under her dressing gown, she was fully dressed. That would be impossible to explain.
“What are you lot looking for this time?” Dolly asked, stopping Fuller in the hall.
“We’ll tell you down the nick, so go get dressed—unless you want to come down the station in a dressing gown?”
Dolly’s heart was thumping like crazy as she raced up the stairs to her bedroom. God forbid Fuller should search the Merc: he’d not only find Shirley but the rucksacks full of the stolen money. Keeping up a steady flow of abuse might get her dragged off more quickly, so she grabbed her coat and raced back downstairs just as Fuller laid his hand on the garage door handle.
“What’s this all about?” Dolly shouted. “I’m going to have your badge for this! Take me to the station right now. Let’s get it over with. Come on—if we’re going.”
Ignoring her, Fuller opened the garage door, leaned forward and looked inside. As he fumbled around on the wall for a light switch, Dolly shouted, “Right!” and stormed off toward the front door.
Fuller whipped round. “Where you going?”
“To walk my bleedin’ dog,” Dolly shouted. “If you ain’t coming right now, I’m off.”
Fuller slammed the garage door shut and paced after Dolly. “You’re not going anywhere other than the station, Mrs. Rawlins.”
It was Fuller who now led the way toward the front door, with Dolly in tow, still nagging and badgering him.
“I’ve had enough of you effin’ lot! The sooner you ask your stupid questions, the sooner I can get home to me housework . . . you’d better be bringing me back an’ all.”
As Fuller opened the front door, he said, “Put the dog down, please. He’s not coming.”
Shirley had heard Fuller’s voice when he’d opened the door to the garage and, fearful of making the smallest sound, she had bit down hard on her hand, her teeth almost cutting through the skin. She lay there listening to the commotion, which had now moved outside onto the driveway.
Dolly was still shouting the odds. “If he’s pissed on the carpet by the time I get back, you’re getting the cleaning bill!” she yelled. “And which nick we goin’ to this time?”
“The big house,” Fuller replied “Scotland Yard.”
Shirley edged out of the Merc, limped over to the garage door and peered through the tiny window, like Dolly had done not ten minutes ago. Dolly was pushed into the police car, and then they were gone. In the sudden silence, Shirley leaned against the car, her chest heaving up and down. It had been a very close call. If the officers had touched the bonnet of the Merc they would have known that Dolly had been out. Shirley’s mind raced as she replayed everything that had just happened and tried to work out what to do next. Dolly had just saved her neck by being so loud and angry and annoying with the police . . . in fact she might well have just sacrificed herself. What Shirley couldn’t work out was how on earth the police had got here so quickly. Why? Why had they arrested Dolly and taken her away?
Eddie Rawlins waited for the police car to leave before he inched back up into a sitting position. Bill had called earlier and told him to get his arse round to Dolly’s house and wait for her to come home. When Bill told Eddie that Dolly was doing Harry’s raid, he’d almost pissed himself laughing. “How the ’ell’s a bird gonna do a raid like that?” But when Bill mentioned that she had Harry’s ledgers, with the plan all laid out for her, Eddie believed it.
As he watched the police car disappear round the corner, Eddie wondered what the hell was going on. How and why had the Old Bill turned up at Dolly’s house so quickly? What had gone wrong? Eddie scratched the stubble on his chin. He supposed it was possible that someone grassed her up, but the officers hadn’t stayed long and they certainly didn’t walk out with bags full of money. Could they possibly have missed it? Was it still in the house or somewhere else? Eddie thought hard about what to do next, but he wasn’t one for making big decisions. He could go and find a phone box and call Bill, or he could nip into Dolly’s house and see if she’d left a million quid lying round anywhere. Eddie went for the easiest option.
Shirley could hear Wolf howling for Dolly in the kitchen. As she limped inside to comfort the little dog, she heard a bubbling sound and, spinning round, saw the electric coffee percolator boiling over. God, she was jumpy! As she bent down to pick Wolf up, he turned his head sharply toward the closed kitchen door that led to the hallway and started to yap. Shirley tried to calm him, but he continued with his yap-yap-yapping at the kitchen door.
Eddie had decided to kill two birds with one stone—he’d break into Dolly’s house, take a brief look round and, whether he found anything or not, he could then call Bill from there. No need to find a phone box.
He slowly and quietly forced the French window in the living room with a jimmy and made his way straight to the kitchen in order to get to Dolly’s Merc in the garage. If Dolly had indeed just returned home from an early morning armed robbery, unless she’d dumped it somewhere on the way, this was the only place the money could be.
Eddie opened the kitchen door an inch or two to make sure Wolf knew it was him before opening it fully. Eddie knew that even the smallest dog, if frightened, could be a vicious bastard, but Wolf was yapping his welcome. Relieved, Eddie opened the door fully and was stunned to see a blonde standing over by the percolator. Panicked at being rumbled breaking into Dolly’s house, Eddie raised his hands and charged toward Shirley. She’d seen his face, and he didn’t like that.
For Shirley, it was like the moment when Tony Fisher had been about to attack her. Not this time, you bastard, she thought and, screaming like a banshee, she took an almighty swing at Eddie with her right hand.
Eddie had done a bit of sparring back in the day, with Harry. He raised his left hand to defend himself from the punch and then swung with his right at the same time, catching Shirley on the jaw. She was in such a state and her ankle was still so weak that she stumbled on her heels and fell backward at the same time as Eddie’s fist made contact, which turned it into a glancing blow rather than a full-on punch. Shirley was back at him in an instant, scratching at his eyes and kicking him with her good leg for all she was worth. Eddie grabbed her wrists hard and held her arms apart.
“Where’s the fucking money, you bitch?” he screamed and, releasing one hand, he slapped her hard.
At first Wolf thought it was some kind of game, and jumped up on his hind legs, yapping and wagging his tail. But the tone of anger in Eddie’s voice, followed by the slap to Shirley’s face and then her piercing scream, was enough for the little dog. He sank his teeth into Eddie’s leg. The little teeth didn’t hurt that much, but it took Eddie by surprise, and in that split second Shirley broke from his grip. As she turned toward the kitchen counter she heard Wolf let out an ear-piercing yelp.
Grabbing the coffee pot, Shirley pulled the lid off and threw the still bubbling brown liquid into Eddie’s face, aiming for his eyes. He screamed in pain as the boiling coffee burned and blistered his face and his neck. Half-blind, he turned and ran from the kitchen into the hall, crashing into a table and knocking over a vase of flowers.
Shirley heard the vase
break as it hit the wooden hallway floor, then she heard the front door opening and Eddie’s heavy footsteps running off down the gravel path, followed by a car starting up then speeding away. In the eerie silence that followed, Shirley crumpled into a heap on a kitchen chair and held her head in her hands. Her jaw ached, her ankle throbbed and her head spun. She began sobbing: a mixture of fear and relief. She had no idea who the intruder was, but he was clearly after the money, which meant he must have known about the robbery. Oh—how she wished that Dolly was with her right now!
Wiping her eyes, Shirley looked round the kitchen. Coffee stains were all over the wall and even on the ceiling by the open door to the hallway, but she didn’t think that Dolly would give two hoots about any of that. Then Shirley realized—it was silent. “Wolf?” she whispered. “Wolfie?” She staggered to her feet. Perhaps Wolf had followed the man out into the street? But as she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen, she realized that things were far, far worse.
“Oh no, no, no . . . please, God, no . . .”
Wolf lay motionless on the floor. Shirley knelt beside him, silently begging. Please let him be OK . . . She touched his little body, but there was no response. A small trickle of blood ran from Wolf’s mouth. Shirley sat on the kitchen floor next to the dead body of Dolly’s most beloved companion and cried. Stroking Wolf’s soft white fur, she realized what comfort he must have brought Dolly every time she held him in her arms. How was Dolly going to cope without him? She had no one in her life to love her now.
Chapter 31
Arnie Fisher poured a dose of antacid into the plastic cap provided with the bottle, gulping it down and burping loudly. The death of Carlos had shaken him badly. It was not that he genuinely cared about him; it was the rumors being spread. And not just about his connection to Carlos—Tony’s assault on Shirley Miller had got about, too. Arnie had attempted to control his brother but now he felt that everything was closing in on him.
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