She's Out

by Lynda La Plante

She pushed the kids to the front door. “Maybe you give me reason to.”

  DCI Craigh told Mike about the car. “We’re going over there to check it out. And there’s something else. I got a call, a woman—she may have been your contact but she asked for me. Guns. Come on, I’ll tell you in the car.”

  The builders finished early as it was the weekend. The coast was clear. Dolly ordered a disgruntled Gloria to start loading up the guns. They would use Ester’s Saab to deliver them to Tommy Malin.

  Ester was uneasy. She knew just how hot the car was. “I can’t let anyone drive it, Dolly. I’m the only one on the insurance.”

  Dolly fixed her with a look. “So you can drive. Gloria will go with you—unless you’re planning on leaving?”

  Ester said nothing and Dolly took her silence as confirmation that she agreed to help them out. “Pack them up, go on, get started. Julia, Kathleen and I will do the graveyard shift.”

  “What about Connie? She got us all into this mess with her ruddy boyfriend, why can’t she help bury him?” Kathleen moaned.

  “Because Connie will be doing something else.” Dolly walked away before they could argue.

  Connie was lying on her bed reading a magazine when Dolly entered. She didn’t bother to knock. “That builder bloke, the one that took you out?”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, you go out with him again, make him happy, understand me? I owe him, but I don’t want to fork out all the cash we got, so you go see him, give him a few more grand, and tell him the rest will be coming soon.”

  Connie hesitated. “What about all that cash from Lennie’s car?”

  “I need to pay off electricity, phone connection and keep a bit back for emergencies and groceries. Besides, I think you should earn your keep after all we’re doing for you.” Dolly stared coldly at her.

  “Okay,” Connie agreed. “He said I could go to his gym with him. I’ll give him a call.”

  “Good. Oh—this gym. Do they have lockers, ones you can keep the key?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Check it out when you call him, ask about membership and if you can leave your gear there.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions, just do what I tell you to.”

  Connie turned away. Dolly had a nasty way of lowering her voice when she was angry.

  DCI Craigh drove into Rodway Motors’ car-hire section and he and Mike went into the reception while DI Palmer walked over to the main garage. Craigh showed the receptionist his ID and waited as she thumbed through the log book. She then looked up. “It was hired by a Mrs. Gloria Radford.”

  Craigh flicked a glance at Mike, then turned back to the receptionist. She pushed the log book toward him and he read that the Volvo had been hired for one day only, the same day James Donaldson was killed. Mrs. Radford had listed her address as a flat in Clapham.

  Craigh nodded to Mike. “She was at the manor, wasn’t she? The night we busted it?”

  Gordon Rodway, the owner of the garage, walked in, followed by Palmer. The car had been returned, no damage recorded, and it had subsequently been hired out again. It had also been through a carwash three times, polished and hoovered.

  “I want no one near it. I’ll have my people check it over,” Craigh said, none too happy as they all followed Rodway back to the garage. The Volvo was still on the ramp where a mechanic had been checking the exhaust. “What’s the interest in this car, then? We recorded the mileage, if that’s any help.”

  Mike walked round to the front bumpers: no dents, no paintwork scratched, it looked immaculate. But the Forensic boys would be all over it with a fine tooth comb; if this was the car that ran over James Donaldson, they would find the evidence.

  Dolly looked at Connie in her skin-tight leotard. “Well, do they have lockers?”

  “Yes, and it’s a hundred and fifty quid for membership.”

  “Good. Join up, and when you get there tonight, put this in the locker and bring me the key.” Dolly handed her a bag, which weighed a ton.

  “What’s this?”

  “Just some personal things of mine—call them a safeguard. But not a word to any of the others. Just make John nice and happy. You don’t have to screw him, I wouldn’t ask you to do that, just string him along.”

  Connie went out to the front pathway to wait for John to collect her. It was just growing dark but not dark enough yet to move the body.

  Angela was cleaning the kitchen when Dolly came in. “Julia’s looking for you, she’s out in the yard,” she said.

  Dolly opened the back door. “Julia?”

  She came out of the stables and joined Dolly on the kitchen doorstep. “Yeah. Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea for Kathleen to come along tonight. She’s getting all twitchy, says she doesn’t want to be a part of it.”

  Dolly sighed. She touched Julia’s arm lightly; she liked her, she was straightforward, you knew where you were with her. “Right, you and me will sort the body, Kathleen can stay here with Angela.”

  “What about Connie?”

  “She’s doing something else. Are the guns all loaded up?” Julia nodded. Dolly glanced at her watch. “They should get moving, Tommy said his contact will be there about ten. Ester’s all right to drive, isn’t she?”

  “I think so.”

  “Is she staying on?” Dolly asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “If she isn’t, does that mean you won’t?”

  Julia flushed. “I guess so, but I don’t think she’s got anywhere to go. She’s got a big mouth but . . . well, maybe you should talk to her yourself.”

  DCI Craigh got back into the car. Palmer was at the wheel. “Gloria Radford hasn’t lived there for a few weeks. Flat was taken over by the council but she returned to collect something from out in the back shed. I had a look round and it’s mostly filled with junk. Maybe she took the guns and stashed them at the manor.”

  Mike leaned on the front seat. “What are we waiting for, then? If your tip-off was right and there are guns at the manor, why don’t we just bust the place?”

  Craigh looked directly ahead. “We already made ourselves look like a bunch of arseholes, Mike. This time we do it by the book. We cover ourselves and check out the fucking information first—and apart from that I’d like a day off. That all right with you, is it?”

  Mike sat back, knowing not to push it. He stared out of the window as they drove down the road. Palmer looked back at Craigh. “So far they’ve found nothing on the vehicle, Gov.”

  Craigh lit a cigarette. “Let’s see if we can have a chat to Eddie Radford on Monday. He might have some information. That suit you, Mike?” he said sarcastically.

  “Whatever you say, Gov. Just, why wait twenty-four hours? They could shift her guns.”

  Craigh checked his watch. “Okay—we go see Eddie Radford. Then we call it quits.”

  Ester eased herself up and winced. The last thing she felt like doing was driving back to London. She wondered if she could get out of it when Dolly walked in, closing the door behind her.

  “How did you get the beating, Ester?” She sat on the dressing-table stool and waited.

  Ester was about to lie, but didn’t have the energy. “Okay, last time I got sent down I also got a raw deal. When I was busted, a couple of my clients got scared—you know, that I’d plead not guilty and they’d have to prove it and name my clients. They got my little black book—well, it wasn’t little, it was a whopper, and I got K for kings, P for princes, no kiddin’. I was coining it, specials laid on for this Arab royal family. I was told that if I pleaded guilty, my fine would be paid, my back taxes paid and I’d get a few quid on top. I was assured I’d not be sent down. Well, I was. I got five years. They paid my legal costs, a percentage of my taxes and then walked away. Not one name was mentioned. So, I got pissed off.”

  Dolly fingered a perfume bottle, then looked up. “Go on.”

  “I used to make private videos which clients would take after
the show. I never made copies but on the night I got turned over, I stashed one and it was never found. When I got out, I went to them straight, said I felt I was owed some dough. They threw me out, told me that if I showed my face again I’d be sorry. I then called them and said they would now be very sorry, that I had a video and I was gonna expose them.” Dolly tutted. Ester looked at her. “It’s not even that bad, just a few slags rolling around with them, but you know how Arabs are. I asked for five hundred grand.”

  “And?”

  “Next thing they got some punk after me with a fucking price on my head. I mean, they’re all crazy! So I kind of hid out here. They won’t leave me alone and the result is what you can see. They beat me up and I ran like hell.”

  “Back here?”

  Ester nodded. “Yeah, but I won’t be staying long, just enough time to get my face healed.”

  Dolly stood up. “Okay, at least you told me the truth. So, go do the business with Gloria and you can stay on here until you’re recovered, then you do whatever you want . . .”

  Ester smiled, instantly regretting it because of her cut lip. “Thanks.”

  Eddie Radford was really edgy. He knew word would be out he’d been lifted and that he was having a talk with the filth. Every prisoner there would know within an hour or so—word travels fast in the nick—and he didn’t like it, didn’t like anyone even thinking he could be grassing.

  “What’s all this about?” he snapped.

  DCI Craigh drew up a chair. Mike stood leaning against the wall as Craigh offered a cigarette.

  “I don’t want a fag. I want to know what this is about,” he repeated.

  “You know someone called James Donaldson?”

  “No.”

  “Dolly Rawlins?”

  “No.”

  “Gloria Radford?”

  Eddie looked at Craigh, shrugged. “Yeah, she’s my wife.”

  “She holding something that belongs to you, is she?”

  “I dunno.”

  “You’re in for dealing in guns, armed robbery.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Eighteen years.”

  “Great, you can count.”

  “Can you, though? That’s a long time, a very long time, Eddie. Be better spending time in an open prison—lot cushier than this dump,” Craigh said softly.

  “Thinking of taking me out to Butlin’s, are you?”

  Mike changed his position, staring hard at Radford. Craigh flicked his cigarette packet over. “We think your wife was driving the car that killed Jimmy Donaldson, Eddie.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, she was never a blinder behind the wheel.”

  “You know about it, do you?”

  “Look, I dunno this Donaldson, I don’t know what you got me up here for, I want to go back to my cell.”

  “But she could be charged with murder, Eddie.”

  “Tough luck. I want to go.”

  “If she’s picked up, who’s gonna flog your guns, Eddie?” Eddie frowned. “They’re being held for you at Grange Manor House, aren’t they?” Eddie chewed his lower lip. “We know they’re at the manor so if we arrest Gloria you’re gonna lose your pension fund. All I need from you is confirmation that they’re there and in return, well, we can talk to people, recommend you get moved. We can’t make promises but we can certainly talk to the right people.”

  Eddie shifted his weight on the chair and reached out for Craigh’s cigarettes. “I dunno anythin’ about this Jimmy Donaldson bloke or whatever Gloria’s done. I dunno anythin’ about that.”

  “But you know about the guns, don’t you, Eddie?”

  Eddie removed a cigarette, lit it, and let the smoke trail from his nostrils as he decided what he should say. He knew they were worth thirty grand, but what good was that if they were sold by that cow Dolly Rawlins? What good were they to him if he couldn’t get his hands on them? What if they were gonna arrest Gloria?

  “I want to be moved,” Eddie said quietly.

  Craigh smiled. “Open prison, swimming pool, tennis courts and, like you said, Eddie, some nicks are better than Butlin’s . . .”

  Eddie flicked ash from his cigarette and rested both elbows on the table. “She’s staying with her, with Dolly Rawlins.”

  They were surprised at how quickly he’d given her up, but he didn’t seem to give a damn about his wife or her possible arrest. All he seemed to care about was the money he was going to lose.

  “They’re worth thirty grand,” Eddie said, hardly audible.

  The same figure the anonymous caller had given to Craigh. He now reckoned the call was on the level, the tip-off legitimate. His weekend was well and truly blown. He knew they would have to act on the tip-off now.

  Dolly and Julia drove to the cemetery. It was pitch dark and Julia drove without headlamps, guided by the white tombstones as they moved slowly down the dirt-track road toward the recently dug graves. Flowers and wreaths were still strewn across the ground. They parked as close as they could, then took out the spades and zigzagged their way through the tombstones toward the freshly dug grave. It was all ready for its occupant, the trench dug, boards placed across the gaping hole.

  Julia carefully moved aside the wooden planks, and said, “Let’s get on with it.”

  They began to dig, making the hole even deeper so they could bury Lennie’s body and cover him up without anyone noticing the grave had been tampered with. The coffin would then be placed on top of him at the funeral. Goodbye, Lennie!

  It was not too difficult because the earth was so fresh and they worked in silence. Only the swishing of the spades could be heard in the quiet of the cemetery.

  While Dolly and Julia were at the cemetery, Ester and Gloria headed for London’s West End to fence the guns. Gloria squinted at the A to Z. Ester had insisted they cut across London by various back streets and they were now somewhere in Elephant and Castle but neither had any idea exactly where.

  “Wait a minute, go left, first left,” Gloria muttered.

  Ester drove on and turned left, then swore. No entry. She sighed and snatched the book from Gloria. “Let me see.”

  “It’s not my fault. Why you had to come your route I dunno. I mean, we been going round in circles for over an hour now.”

  Ester squinted at the small squares on the map. “We don’t want to get stopped with what we’ve got in the boot, do we?”

  “Gettin’ lost with them’s not a brilliant move neither,” Gloria retorted.

  “Okay, I got it, we’re not too far.” She began to do a U-turn, when, caught in the headlamps, they saw a police officer examining a locked gate. He turned and watched the car bump onto the pavement.

  “Oh, bloody hell. Do you see what I see?” said Gloria.

  Ester looked in the mirror. He was walking toward them. She turned off the lights, gunned the engine, careered up the road and screeched round the corner.

  “Well, that was fucking subtle,” muttered Gloria.

  Julia was waist deep and still digging.

  Dolly peered down. “Okay, just drop him in and cover him. It’s deep enough, isn’t it?”

  Julia started to climb out. “Yeah, the maggots’ll have a field day.”

  “Let’s get him out of the car,” Dolly said as she chucked her spade aside. Julia stuck hers into the ground and followed. The body was wrapped in an old carpet and polythene sheeting. They dragged it toward them and, between them, eased it from the rear of the Mini. It was too heavy to carry easily and they resorted to dragging it across the uneven ground toward the grave.

  “One shoe’s missing,” Julia whispered.

  “Shit! Go and see if it’s in the car.”

  Julia searched the car but found nothing. “Maybe it’s still in the pool,” she said, as she helped roll the body down into the grave. They began to shovel the earth back into the hole, both working flat out, as slowly, bit by bit, Lennie was covered up. Dolly stamped the earth down on top of him before clambering out, and Julia dragged the planks
back to lay across the grave.

  Gloria was furious. She found it hard to believe Ester could be so stupid but at least she now understood why they’d kept to the back streets.

  “Hot? This bleedin’ car’s hot and you been driving it around London, almost ran over a bloody copper. I’m tellin’ you, Ester, you need your head seeing to. If Dolly finds out . . .”

  “Oh, shut up. We’re here now. Go on.”

  Gloria got out of the car and knocked on a small door built into the big yard gates. It was opened by Tommy, who had a whispered conversation with her, and then the main gates eased back. Ester drove in, and Tommy and his contact began to unload the guns, carrying them into the warehouse.

  Gloria had never met the buyer before, a small, softly spoken man wearing a camel coat, a good suit and pinkish-toned glasses. His expert began to check over each weapon as Gloria placed them on the desk. A large space had been cleared, the blinds had been drawn, and they quietly got on with the business in hand.

  Ester was surprised by Gloria, who proved adept at handling the guns, making a convincing sales pitch with each piece. The weapons consisted of two 9mm Browning pistols, semi-automatic, four .38 Smith and Wessons, three .35 Magnum colts, two .44s, two .455 Webley’s specials, collector’s items, with boxes of ammunition, two Westley and Richard rifles, 26-inch barrels, bead foresight and stands, two Hechler and Koch machine guns and four Kalashnikovs.

  While Gloria was doing her business, Ester was selling Tommy the Saab for cash. She admitted it was a bit “iffy” but not too hot. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

  “Come on, man, you know it’s a great deal. You can switch the plates on it and get it out of the country within twenty-four hours.”

  “Okay. I’ve got an old van you can take in part exchange.”

  Tommy glanced over at the gun dealers, then at Gloria who was searching one of the big bags. “Ester, a minute,” she said, and Ester went to join her. Three shotguns missing. “You know anything about that?”

  Ester shook her head and whispered that Tommy was interested in buying the Saab.

  “Good, I’m not driving around in it anymore.” Gloria returned to the dealers.