Audrey had been unable to reply, she was in such a state.
“Nothing will make up to you for her loss, I know that.”
Still Audrey couldn’t speak. Then Dolly had lifted her head, her pale washed-out eyes brimming with tears. “You’ll get a cut of the diamonds, that I promise you. Just hand them over to Jimmy Donaldson. Jimmy’ll keep them safe. When this is all over, I’ll see you’re taken care of, Audrey.”
But that hadn’t been the end of it. Everything had changed when Audrey read in the paper that a small-time fence called Jimmy Donaldson had been arrested for dealing in stolen property. Audrey had then done something she would never have believed herself capable of. She had done it all by herself and, having done it, she had been terrified. But the weeks passed and gradually she grew more and more confident that what she had done was right.
But now she was scared, really scared, and she didn’t know if she should tell Mike or not, because Dolly Rawlins was coming out and she would come out looking for her, Audrey was sure of that.
Mike was feeling uneasy. It was back again, that constant undercurrent of guilt whenever he was with his mother. He had made that promise, but how could he keep it? He held on to his temper. “Mum, there is nothing I can do—”
“You’re a ruddy police officer, aren’t you? Re-arrest her. She did that robbery, Mike—I know it, you know it. She as good as killed our Shirley, never mind her bloody husband.”
The tears started again. He was due at his station in half an hour; he wished he’d never called in. “Look, Mum, the problem will be if it implicates you—and it could.”
Audrey clung to him. “I’ve got an offer. Friend’s got a villa in Spain. I can stay as long as I like. That way I can keep out of it.”
“Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
Audrey kissed him. “Just let her sleep in peace, let my little girl sleep in peace.”
Mike turned on the ignition of the car but the last thing he felt like doing was going into the station. He checked his watch again and then drove to Thornton Avenue in Chiswick. He worried that he was making a mistake, this was a stupid move, but he needed to get his head straightened out. He parked the car and walked up the scruffy path. He was about to ring the front doorbell when he heard someone calling his name.
Angela was running up the road, waving, with a big wide smile. “Mike, Mike . . .”
Mike turned as she threw herself into his arms.
“I knew you’d come and see me again, I just knew it.”
He walked hand in hand with her to his car, already wanting to kick himself for coming to her place.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, hanging on to his arm.
Mike released his hand. “Look, I shouldn’t have come, Angela. It was just . . . I’m sorry.”
“Oh, please stay, please. Me mum’s down at the center, there’s no one in the house, and, please, I got something to tell you, please . . .”
Mike locked the car and followed Angela into her mother’s ground-floor flat. It was dark and scruffy and kids’ pushchairs and toys littered every inch of the floor. Angela guided him toward the small back bedroom, and all the time he kept on saying to himself that he was dumb, he was stupid to start this up again. Angela began to undress as soon as she shut the door but he shook his head. “No, I can’t stay, Angela, I’m on duty in an hour. I just . . .”
She slumped onto the bed. “I been waitin’ for you to call for weeks. You know the way I feel about you. Why did you come here, then?”
He shook his head. He was feeling even worse. “I dunno, I was over at my mum’s place and she starts doing my head in over my sister, and I just . . .” She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his face. “No, don’t, Angela, I shouldn’t have come.”
She broke away. “Well, get out, I don’t care, I’m goin’ away anyway.”
“Where you goin’?”
“Friend’s place, just a few days, bit of work.”
Mike looked at her, shaking his head. “What kind of work?”
Angela plucked at her short skirt.
“You’re not going back on the game, are you?”
“No, I am not,” she shrieked.
Mike sat on the bed and rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes.
“I was never on the game and you know it. You of all people should know it. I just worked as her maid, Mike.”
“This Ester Freeman, is it?” he asked.
Angela crawled onto the bed to sit next to him. Mike had been on the Vice Squad when Ester Freeman had been busted for running a brothel. Angela was one of the girls who had been arrested along with twelve other women but they had all, including Ester, insisted that little Angela was not on the game, just serving drinks. Mike and Angela, who was then only fifteen, had begun an affair, a stupid, on-off scene that he constantly tried to break. He never saw her more than once a month, sometimes twice, over the years, but he was very fond of her. He even gave her money sometimes but he had no intention of ever leaving his wife. If it hadn’t been for him, she might have been sent to an approved school, but that was just an excuse. The sex was good and he simply refused to admit that that was what he used Angela for.
“Ester called yesterday. Wants me to go to her old manor house.”
“Oh yeah? She back running another brothel?”
“No way. She’s holding some kind of party, for a woman called . . .”
Angela frowned as she tried to remember, and then grinned. “Oh, I dunno, but she was in Holloway wiv her, shot her old man, you know. She was famous. He was a big-time villain. Anyway, she’s comin’ out of the nick and Ester is arranging a group of old friends to sort of welcome her, you know, give a party, and she wants me to act as a waitress.”
Mike fingered the knot in his tie. His mouth was dry. It couldn’t be, could it? “Dolly Rawlins? Is that who it is?”
“Yeah, she was in Holloway with Ester.”
Mike started undoing the buttons of her shirt. “Who else is going?”
“I dunno, but it’ll be some kind of scam, you can bet on it. I got to wear a black dress an’ apron. Ester never did nothin’ for nobody without there being something in it for her. She’s a hard cow but I need the cash. Said she’ll pay me fifty quid.”
Mike eased off Angela’s shirt, reaching round to the clasp of her lacey bra. “She say anything else about Dolly Rawlins?”
Two young prisoners peeked into Dolly Rawlins’s cell, looking at the small neatly packed brown suitcase, a coat placed alongside it. Apart from these two items the cell was empty.
Footsteps echoed on the stone-flagged floor. The two girls scuttled back down the corridor as Rawlins, with a prison officer, walked toward her cell. But whatever they were expecting to see, they were disappointed. The infamous Dolly Rawlins seemed pale and worn out. The officer stood outside the cell waiting for Dolly to get her case and coat.
The corridors were strangely silent. Nearly all of the women were waiting, hiding, whispering.
The tannoy repeated a message that Rawlins, prisoner 45688, was to go to landing B. They all knew that was the check-out landing. She was almost out.
The coat was too large now she had lost so much weight, but it was good quality and she had always liked the best. She did up each button slowly and then reached for her case. None of the girls had spoken to her or said goodbye, but she refused to show that she was hurt. She looked to the officer and gave a brief nod. She was ready.
As Dolly headed toward landing B, the singing began, low at first, then rising to a bellow as every woman joined in.
“Goodbye, Dolly!”
They bellowed and stamped their feet, they called out her name and clapped their hands. “Goodbye, Dolly, you must leave us . . .” They screeched out their thank yous for the cigarettes, for her radio, her cassettes, for every item she had passed around. Some of the girls were sobbing, openly showing how much they would miss “Big Mama.” One old prisoner shouted at the top of her voic
e, “Don’t turn back, Dolly, don’t look back, keep on walking out, gel . . .”
She could feel the tears welling up, her mouth trembling, but she held on, waving like the Queen as they walked onto the landings. They continued to sing, their voices echoing as she was ushered along the corridor toward the Governor’s office. It wouldn’t be long now.
Mike thumbed through the files and then sat, drumming his fingers on the mug shot of Dorothy Rawlins. He had read enough about Dolly Rawlins and her husband to know that if the diamonds existed she would go after them. He thought about Angela on her way to Ester Freeman. He wondered about a lot of things, trying to think if there was any possibility of doing something for his sister, for his mother—if he could get Dolly Rawlins back inside.
Mike was just starting to go through Harry Rawlins’s files when he received a phone call—nothing to do with Dolly Rawlins, nothing to do with his mother or his sister. It was from Brixton Prison: a boy called Francis Lloyd wanted to give some information.
A lot of police officers had their private snitches in the prisons. Lloyd was a youngster Mike had arrested during a burglary eighteen months ago. He had been sentenced to two years because of a previous conviction. He was a likable kid, and Mike had even got to know his mum and dad, so he returned the call—and for the second time in one day he heard the name Dolly Rawlins. Francis had some information but he didn’t want to talk about it over the phone.
Governor Ellis rose to her feet from behind the desk as Dolly Rawlins was ushered into her bright, friendly office. She offered tea, a usual ritual when a long-serving prisoner was leaving. Mrs. Ellis was a good governor, well-liked by the inmates for her fairness and, in many instances, even for her kindness and understanding. Rawlins, however, seemed never to have needed her kindness and, as she passed Dolly her tea in a floral china cup, Mrs. Ellis couldn’t help but detect an open antagonism.
She eased the conversation round, discussing openings and contacts should Dolly feel in need of assistance outside, making sure she was fully aware that she would, because of the nature of her crime, be on parole for the rest of her life. When she asked if Dolly had any plans for the future she received only a quiet, “Yes, I have plans, thank you.”
“Well, rest assured there is a network of people who will give you every assistance to readjust to being outside. Eight years—it should have been nine but as you know, you’re being released early for good behavior—is a long time, and you will find many changes.”
“I’m sure I will,” Dolly replied, returning the half-empty cup to the tray.
Barbara Hunter remained with her back to the door, staring at Rawlins, whose calm composure annoyed the hell out of her. She listened as Mrs. Ellis passed over leaflets and phone numbers should Rawlins require them. She kept her eyes on Rawlins’s face, wanting to see some kind of reaction, but Dolly remained impassive.
“You have been of invaluable help with many of the young offenders and especially with the mother-and-baby wing. I really appreciate all your hard work and I wish you every success in the future.”
Dolly leaned forward and asked, bluntly, if she could leave.
“Why, of course you can, Dorothy.” Mrs. Ellis smiled.
“Anything I say now, it can’t change that, can it?” Dolly seemed tense.
“No, Dorothy, you are free to go.”
“Good. Well, there is something I would like to say. That woman . . .” Dolly turned an icy stare on Barbara Hunter who straightened quickly. “You know what she is. I’ve got no quarrel with anyone’s sexual preferences so don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Ellis, but that woman should not be allowed near the young girls comin’ in. She shouldn’t be allowed to get her dirty hands on any single kid in this place, but she does, and you all know it. She messes with the most vulnerable, especially when they’ve just had their babies taken from them. You got any decency inside you, Mrs. Ellis, you should get rid of her.”
Mrs. Ellis stood up, flushing, as Dolly sprang to her feet, adding, “I know where she lives.”
Mrs. Ellis snapped, “Are you making threats, Mrs. Rawlins?”
“No, just stating a fact. I’ll be sending her a postcard. Can I go now?”
Mrs. Ellis pursed her lips and gave a nod as Hunter opened the office door. Dolly walked out, past Hunter, and never looked back. Two more officers were waiting outside for her as the door closed.
Mrs. Ellis sat down and drew the file of prisoner 45688, Dorothy Rawlins, toward her. She opened it and stared at the police file photographs, then slapped the file closed. “I think we’ll be seeing Dorothy Rawlins again before too long.”
Hunter agreed. “I’ve never trusted her. She’s devious, and a liar.”
Mrs. Ellis stared at Hunter. “Is she?” she said softly.
“Jimmy Donaldson was in the canteen two nights ago and I was next to him, I couldn’t help but hear.” Francis Lloyd looked right and left, lowering his voice. “He said that he was holding diamonds for Rawlins, that you lot copped him for peanuts compared to what he’d got stashed at his place. Diamonds . . .”
Mike leaned back in the chair. “You sure about this, Francis?”
“Yes, on my life. Diamonds, he was braggin’ about them, honest. Said he’d held on to them for eight years—diamond robbery, I swear that’s what he said.”
Mike leaned forward and pushed two packs of Silk Cut cigarettes forward. They’d been opened and there was a ten quid note tucked in each of them.
“Thanks, thanks a lot.”
On his way back to the station, Mike went over everything he had picked up and started to piece it together. By the time he’d parked his car in the underground car park at the station he was feeling more positive, and even thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to get Dolly Rawlins put back inside. He couldn’t wait to see his mother’s face when he told her, but he had to go by the book and first run it by his governor.
Detective Chief Inspector Ronald Craigh was a sharp officer, a high-flyer with a good team around him. His other sidekick was Detective Inspector John Palmer, steady, cool-headed and a personal friend. The pair of them often joked about Mike being over-eager but that was not a stroke against him—far from it. Craigh listened attentively as Mike discussed the information he had received that day.
“I have a good reliable informant who told me Rawlins is going to a big manor house. There’s a bunch of ex-cons waiting for her. I then get a tip-off from my informant in Brixton nick.”
Craigh leaned forward. “Hang about, son, this informant . . . are they in my file?”
“Yes, it’s Francis Lloyd—he’s in Brixton.” Mike made no mention of Angela. She was not on the governor’s informant list. He presented the old files on the diamond robbery, explaining how Dorothy Rawlins would be out any minute and would, he estimated, go for the diamonds.
“Well, that’ll be tough, won’t it?” Craigh smiled. “If Jimmy Donaldson is holdin’ them for her and he’s banged up, how’s she gonna get to them?”
Mike paced up and down. “What if we were to bring him out, talk it over with him, see what he has to say? I mean, we might be able to have a word with his probation officer or the Governor at Brixton, see if we couldn’t get him shipped to a cushy open prison.”
“No way,” Craigh said.
Palmer held up his hand. “We might be able to swing something that’ll make him play ball with us.”
Craigh shook his head again. “Come on, you know we got no pull to move any friggin’ prisoner anywhere—and if we get him out, then what?”
“We get the diamonds,” Mike said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “One, there’s still a whopper of a reward out for them, two, we clean up that robbery—nobody was pulled in for it. What if it was Rawlins all along? We’ll find out if she contacts Donaldson. It’ll be proof she knows about the diamonds.”
Craigh was still iffy about it. “According to the old files, it was suspected that Harry Rawlins was behind it—”
“She shot him,
” Mike interrupted.
“I know she did. What I’m saying is there was never any evidence to connect her to that blag.”
“There will be if she goes for those diamonds.”
Craigh sucked on his teeth and then picked up all the old files. “Okay, I’ll run it by the Super, see what he’s got to say about it.”
Mike followed him to the door. “She’s out today, Gov.”
Craigh opened his office door. “I know that, son, just don’t start jumping over hurdles until we know what the fuck we’re gonna do.”
Mike looked glumly at Palmer as Craigh slammed the door. “It’s just that she’s out, and she might call Donaldson, find out he’s in the nick and . . .”
“Maybe she knows already,” Palmer said, doodling on a notepad.
“Just sit tight. If the Super gives the go-ahead, we’ll see what they decide. In the meantime . . .”
Mike sighed. He had a load of reports to complete so he took himself off to the incident room. As he reached his desk, his phone rang. It was Craigh. They were going to talk to Donaldson, if he wanted to come along. Mike grinned; it was going down faster than he’d thought.
Ester ordered the six boys from the job center to collect every bottle and piece of broken glass before they started to hoover and dust. A florist’s van had arrived with two massive floral displays that were propped up in the hall. Julia was using a stiff brush to sweep the front steps when she saw the taxi at the open manor gates. “Someone’s coming now,” she called out.
The taxi drove slowly down the drive, skirted the deep hole in the gravel and stopped by the front steps. Kathleen O’Reilly peered from the back seat. She had boxes and cases and numerous plastic bags. “Hi. You moving in or on the move, Kathleen?” asked Julia.
Kathleen opened the car door. “They’re all me worldly possessions. I had to do a bit of a moonlight but Ester said I could doss down here for a few days. Will you give the driver a fiver? I’m flat broke.”
She's Out Page 3
