She's Out

by La Plante, Lynda

  ‘I’m not interested in a robbery that went down eight, nine years ago. Right now we have to straighten out this entire fiasco because that’s what it is, from the death of James Donaldson down. One minute you got her with a supposed stash of diamonds, the next with weapons …’

  Craigh went over the reliable tip-off syndrome and was interrupted by the Chief. ‘You call Eddie Radford reliable?’

  Craigh coughed and pulled at his collar. ‘Well, we got a phone call with the information that a certain amount of weapons belonging to Radford were being held at the Grange Manor House.’

  The Chief slapped the reports. ‘I can read, Detective Chief Inspector, but what I am reading into all this has a slightly different slant from what you’re trying to bullshit me with.’

  Craigh sat back in his chair. He didn’t look up, he could hear the flick, flick of the pages as the Chief went through one file after another, and then slapped the top one.

  ‘You want to tell me about DS Mike Withey?’

  Craigh loosened his tie. He had tried to cover for Mike, but it was pointless now.

  ‘I am referring to the fact that his sister, a Shirley Ann Miller, was shot in the armed raid that you and your team have been trying to …’

  ‘Sir, I have to say that at the outset of my investigation I was unaware that Withey had any personal grievances against Mrs Rawlins. But that said—’

  ‘That said, Detective Chief Inspector, Rawlins was never accused of having any part in that robbery. She was never accused because there was never any evidence to connect her with it. She was charged with the manslaughter of her husband, not the diamond robbery.’

  ‘Yes, I know, sir, but—’

  ‘But I am suggesting that your DS, because of his personal motivation—’

  ‘He believed that Rawlins did, in fact, have something to do with it, sir.’

  ‘Her husband might have, before she shot him, but dead men can’t talk.’

  ‘Nor can dead girls,’ interjected Craigh.

  The flick, flick of the stack of files and reports continued for at least three minutes before the Chief spoke again. ‘There is still not one shred of evidence to link Dorothy Rawlins to that robbery, and it’s clearly written here and verified by not one but six members of the social services that she was actually being interviewed by them at the time of this man Donaldson’s unfortunate accident.’

  Craigh looked at his Super, who remained stony-faced with his head bent low, refusing to look at Craigh.

  ‘When questioned about Donaldson, Mrs Rawlins agreed that she had made contact with him. She also agreed that he was holding certain items for her to collect on her release from Holloway prison, and I quote, “Mr Donaldson was keeping two Victorian garden gnomes for me. They had been in the garden at my house in Totteridge.”’

  ‘That really is bullshit, sir.’

  The Chief looked hard at Craigh. ‘So is most of this, but we take very seriously Mrs Rawlins’s allegations of police harassment, and we also have to take seriously her claim for ten thousand pounds’ worth of damages done to her property.’

  Craigh knew that had been at the bottom of it all, the bloody claim for damages.

  ‘I would now like to interview DI John Palmer. Thank you for your time, Detective Chief Inspector. That, along with a lot of money, has been wasted. I have also been discussing a backlog of work in your division that should by rights have taken priority over this entire Rawlins situation.’

  Craigh stood up and shoved the knot of his tie up to throttling position. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Palmer took one look at Craigh’s face as he walked out and hissed out his breath. ‘Bad, huh?’

  Craigh nodded. ‘Look, it’s no good trying to cover for that prat Withey. I’m not carrying the can for this, so don’t you. They know all about his sister so just tell the truth.’

  Palmer would have liked to talk further but he was asked to enter the boardroom by a WPC who had been taking notes throughout.

  Craigh looked around. ‘Where is he? Has he come in yet?’

  Palmer paused at the door for a moment. ‘He walked in about ten minutes ago, said he’d been sick.’

  Craigh knew that Mike would be sick all right when they finished with him and he knew what the outcome of the internal enquiry would be: that one or other of them would be just that. Finished. He just hoped to Christ it wasn’t going to be him.

  Half an hour later, Palmer left the boardroom. He looked even worse than Craigh had when he walked out, and he just hoped he’d not screwed himself. Mike was sitting with a plastic beaker of coffee in his hand. ‘How did it go?’

  Palmer gave a wry look. He went closer before saying quietly, They don’t know about the diamonds, seems the big gripe is about Donaldson and that ruddy ten-grand claim Rawlins’s lawyer put in.’

  Mike exhaled and then swallowed. ‘What did they ask you?’

  ‘A lot. But, Mike, they know about your sister, I mean, I never said anything, they knew before I went in. I know the Gov wouldn’t have told them so you—’

  Palmer was interrupted as the female officer stepped into the room and asked for Mike. Palmer watched him follow her like a doomed man. He took off to find Craigh and compare notes.

  Mike knew it was going to be heavy but he had not anticipated the icy anger of the Chief. He knew he could be up for suspension but he hadn’t bargained for the fine and return to uniform for a year. That had taken the wind right out of him. No way would he be back with the hard hat – not after all he’d been through. Even the job at the security company was better than that, and probably better paid too.

  ‘You have abused your position as a police officer. You have used personal grievances to instigate a full-scale investigation of Mrs Dorothy Rawlins without disclosing to your superior officer your personal motives.’

  Mike remained with his head bowed as the cold voice continued that he had not disclosed on his original papers that his sister had been married to a known criminal and had taken part in and been shot during an armed robbery. He interrupted, ‘She was dead, sir. I didn’t think there was any reason to put that—’

  He was silenced by a wave of the Chief’s hand. There was every reason and you know it, so don’t try and be cheeky. If we had been privy to this information, it would obviously have been taken into consideration by DCI Craigh and it would have been his decision either to go ahead with the investigation without you or decide not to, whatever the case may be.’

  Mike licked his lips. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I feel I should mention that both DCI Craigh and DI Palmer acted with the utmost professionalism throughout, and I apologize for misinforming them and for not filling in the required data on my application to join the force.’

  The Chief nodded. ‘You were accepted because of your exemplary army record, noted in the letters from your commanding officers. You are a highly intelligent and dedicated officer. I do not wish to lose you but at the same time action must be taken.’

  Mike looked at his hands and then straightened his shoulders. He resigned there and then, and felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. What his wife would think about it, what he would do, he couldn’t give much thought to. He just wanted to get out, have a drink and go home. They had not discovered his part in the switching of the stones or the part his mother had played, and right then he didn’t even want to get her by the throat and throttle her. He might later. All he wanted was to get out of the room and have a few drinks. He needed to get drunk.

  Both Palmer and Craigh were waiting and they seemed really twitchy. It was Mike who smiled, lifting his arms wide in a big open-handed shrug. ‘Well, one of us had to go and it was my decision. I’ve resigned, so how about a drink?’

  Craigh banged him on the shoulder, unable to hide his relief. ‘Maybe you should think about it. I mean, they didn’t ask you to leave, did they? It wasn’t the big heave-ho?’

  ‘No, but the “back in uniform” did it. I’m out. Just get me to
the pub.’

  Palmer gave Craigh a small wink. He was just as relieved and suddenly Mike seemed like a good friend. He had, after all, let them both off the hook.

  Ester took off her best suit and hung it in the wardrobe. She only had a little time before they were due out for the riding class so she pulled on her old jeans and a thick sweater and was just stamping into her right boot when Dolly came in. It irritated Ester that she was expected to knock if she entered Dolly’s bedroom, even her tinpot office, but she just barged in.

  ‘Is it sorted?’

  Ester stamped into the left boot and stood straight. ‘Yep, it’s sorted and the tape’s back in their hot sweaty hands.’

  ‘You’ve not got any more tapes or business like that, have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. That was all I had.’

  Dolly walked out halfway through Ester’s reply, and she could have slapped her. She picked up her riding crop and followed her into the hall.

  Gloria and Connie were in the kitchen getting into their riding boots. Gloria was complaining about sewing the sacks; she’d cut her fingers and was pissed off that no one else seemed to be doing any work but her. Connie overheard and came charging out of the kitchen. ‘What you think I’ve been doing half the afternoon – enjoying myself? Well, if you want to take over and screw for—’

  ‘That’s enough,’ warned Dolly, pointing to the kids, and Connie glared at Dolly with hatred.

  ‘The leaf machine will be delivered tomorrow morning. It costs fifty-four pounds, cash on delivery, all right?’ She flounced back into the kitchen as Dolly drew on a pair of leather gloves.

  ‘Right, we all set?’ she said calmly, and walked out of the front door.

  ‘I swear before God I’ll punch her straight in that smarmy arrogant face,’ Ester said quietly.

  ‘I’ll get one in before you,’ Gloria said as they left.

  They rode different horses from usual and were unsteady to begin with but soon got their confidence. They did not ride alone: their instructor was an older woman who spoke in a deep, theatrical, upper crust voice, which they all kept mimicking. Not that she appeared to notice as she was too busy giving them instructions. ‘Ever-ee-body, please pay h-attention, knees grip, oh so tightly, reins held loosely, and walk h’on.’

  They walked sedately down the country lane and paused as Mrs Fruity opened the gate to the field and gestured for each one to enter with a loud booming, ‘Walk on, walk on and form a circle, please.’

  Gloria was still imitating her when they returned to the manor two hours later. They cranked themselves out of the car to Gloria’s ‘Walk on, come along now, walk on …’

  Julia galloped down from the wood and called out. They turned and watched the way she neatly skirted the building, plants and wheelbarrows.

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Oh, frightfully well,’ shouted Gloria.

  Connie smiled. We’re h’all being pat down far the local hunt, lovey, she simply thinks we’re soooooooo good.’

  Julia laughed and then turned Helen of Troy towards the stables. The women followed and grouped outside the loosebox as Julia took off her saddle and carried it inside.

  ‘You’ve each got to learn how to clad the horses’ hooves this evening so we might as well do it now. Practise on Helen,’ Dolly said, raking the mud off her boot.

  ‘Oh, what hever you say, Mrs Rawlins,’ Gloria said, still being Mrs Fruity, and Dolly actually managed a small tight smile.

  Gloria had her hand under the cold-water tap; it was already swelling up. ‘The fuckin’ thing trod on me hand.’ She showed it to Angela.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t swear so much, not in front of the kids,’ Angela said, peeling potatoes.

  ‘Oh, fuck off,’ Gloria said as the water soothed her hand. ‘Where’s the Queen Mother?’

  Dolly walked in, already bathed and changed. ‘She’s here, Gloria, and Angela is right. Please don’t swear in front of the girls.’

  Gloria screwed up her eyes, sure Dolly couldn’t have heard her. ‘Listening at keyholes now, are we, Dolly?’

  ‘With your voice it’s not necessary, you can be heard all over the house.’

  With the bickering, Dolly reckoned it was time they talked but she didn’t say a word throughout dinner, and the edginess grew worse, mostly from Ester, until Dolly tapped her hand. ‘Ester, we will talk later. I don’t think we should discuss it now. Why don’t we all eat in peace and then have a drink together when Angela is clearing up?’

  ‘Just so long as we do,’ Ester said.

  ‘We will.’ Dolly passed the bowl of potatoes.

  ‘Well, this makes a change from pasta,’ Gloria said, shovelling more on her plate. They were all eating big platefuls because of the exercise they’d taken and each one of them seemed to have changed considerably. Their skins were fresher, hardly any trace of make-up on any of them; even Gloria’s usual thick eye shadow and mascara were no longer evident and Connie hadn’t a false nail in sight. Ester retained a glimmer of her old sophistication, more so that evening because she had been to London. Only Julia seemed to have changed physically. She was not as thin as she had been but, unlike the others, she was more used to country life and appeared to fit into the surroundings better.

  Mike could have done with some food inside him. He hadn’t eaten all day and he got drunker than both Craigh and Palmer put together. By the time they had driven him home, he was feeling well pissed and stumbled out of the car as they parked outside his house. He leaned against the bonnet, banging it with the flat of his hand. ‘Thanks, see you.’

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ Craigh said, opening the window.

  Mike stepped back. ‘Yeah, but I’ll be having a lie-in for a change. Goodnight.’

  They watched him reel up his path, heard the milk bottle crashing down the step but Mike ignored it as he tried to aim his key into the hole. He lurched into the house, banging the front door. He got as far as the stairs before he slumped down and sat there, his head in his hands, feeling sick as a dog. It all came down then and he moaned, resting his head against the banister.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

  Susan stared at him from the top of the stairs. She had just bathed and washed her hair. ‘Your dinner is in the oven, probably dried to a bone, but if I knew what time you would be coming in then—’

  ‘Shut up, Sue leave it out – just for one night.’

  Mike stumbled into the kitchen and she returned to the bedroom. She knew he was drunk, not only by the way he was reeling around but she could also smell it. Well, he could just stay down there, she wasn’t going to speak to him. She locked the bedroom door, picked up the hair dryer, turned it on full blast, and opened last week’s issue of Hello! magazine. She hadn’t intended having an early night but she would now.

  In the kitchen, Mike burnt his fingers on the plate, almost dropping it, and then sat at the table, staring at the atrophied stew. He got a bottle of HP sauce and shook it, his chair scraping as he got up and sat down again. He picked up his fork and then couldn’t face eating. Instead he sat in a stupor, wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life. He had screwed it up badly and he wondered how he would pay for the mortgage, the kids’ schooling. He flopped forward, knocking the plate of stew on to the floor.

  ‘My bloody mother, she got me into this, the stupid cow.’ He laid on his arm on the formica table and looked with drooping eyes at the stew and HP sauce over the floor. ‘Sod it.’

  Ester looked at the dregs in the bottle. ‘Well, this is the last of the wine.’

  Dolly held her glass by the stem and sipped. She put it down, got up and opened a drawer in the desk. She took out one of the girls’ big blank-paged drawing books and slowly undid the cap of a thick black felt-tipped pen. ‘Right, this is what I intend to do. I don’t know if we can do it, not yet, but this is what I’ve been working on.’

  They sat in front of her, squashed on to the sofa as if th
ey were at some kind of lecture.

  ‘I don’t want any interruptions, not until I’ve finished, then you can ask whatever you need to know.’

  They nodded, waiting, staring at the blank sheet of paper. Dolly spoke quietly, without any kind of emotion whatsoever. She took her time, clearly drawing each section as she spoke, starting from the manor which she marked with a big cross, the stables, and detailing how they would pick up their rides and move silently down the lane.

  She drew the railway tracks, the bridge and the lake. She then marked in red the danger cables, the areas of vulnerability, and no one said a word as, slowly, her plan began to shape up. It was ridiculous, it was insane. She was not even thinking about hitting the security wagon itself. She was aiming to remove the money from the train. And not, as they had supposed, at the level crossing or just before it or after, but on the bridge. She wasn’t waiting for a reaction but her eyes narrowed as she looked over the rough drawings, her face set in concentration.

  ‘Er, you gonna do it … Did I hear right? We’re not going for the cash on the security wagon but when it’s on the train?’ Gloria’s mouth was dry as she spoke, not really believing what she’d heard.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, we go for the train.’

  Gloria swallowed. ‘And we go for it, not at the station or at the level crossing, but, er …’

  ‘On the bridge,’ Dolly said softly.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Gloria muttered, and looked at the others, but they remained silent, staring in turn at the drawings and Dolly, who still seemed intent on them.

  Ester was just about to find her voice when Dolly stabbed at the thin lines depicting the rail tracks. ‘These are live wires, very high voltage. There’s a narrow parapet right alone the entire edge of the bridge, two good positions to cover us, and a big notice here.’ She smiled. ‘One that says “high voltage, danger”, but it’s big enough for one of us to hide behind. There’s another boarding here and one on the opposite side of the lake. The railings are lower so we position two of us there.’ She made neat crosses and then turned the sketch round. ‘We’ve got to stop the train halfway across the bridge. We mark out the position with fluorescent paint. I’ve paced it and I reckon we can stop it almost dead centre of the bridge.’ She continued in a quiet, almost monotone voice, taking them through each stage of the raid. What she never said was exactly which of them was to do what, and no one was inclined to interrupt. She drew the signal box, the electric cables, the telephone wires and as her drawings began to take up one page after another, she became more animated.