by Linda Calvey
‘Slim, Ruby. Stay safe. Don’t leave home. We’re—’
‘Ruby, Ruby, darlin’, I won’t stop until I find who was behind this,’ Alfie’s voice was wretched, choking on his pain. ‘I promise ya, I’ll rip their heads from their bodies.’
Lloyd took back the phone. ‘We don’t know they was set up. Not yet. Ruby says they was robbers. Listen, darlin’, we’re on our way. Don’t do nuthin’ until we get there.’
Ruby put the receiver down. Exhaling, she dialled her brother’s number.
‘Bobby?’
‘Rube, how are ya?’
‘My Archie is dead . . .’
There was a pause at the other end.
‘Oh, God, Rube. Are ya safe? Is Cathy safe?’
‘I don’t know, Bobby,’ Ruby said honestly.
Lloyd had seemed to think there might be more to it all than a robbery, but she had no proof.
‘We’re on our way. Go nowhere. See nobody, sis. Wait for us and we’ll work it out. I love ya,’ Bobby finished.
His quiet shock, in sharp contrast to Alfie’s violent reaction, was somehow more painful to hear. He and Belle promised to be on the next flight over. All Ruby had to do now was wait.
She didn’t sleep that night, nor did Cathy. Together, mother and daughter lay on the bed, awake and crying, talking about the man they adored and who now lay in a mortuary on a cold slab.
The local head of police, a man on Archie’s payroll, came over the next morning.
‘My condolences on your loss, Mrs Willson. It’s clear you acted in self-defence. I will make every arrangement necessary for you.’
‘Thank you, we appreciate your kindness,’ Ruby murmured, holding Cathy close to her.
Ruby went into her bedroom, and sitting at her mirror, she saw a woman, still beautiful, still alluring, yet marred by grief. Her eyes had black shadows and her mouth was a thin line. She hooked a pearl necklace around her neck. It had been a present from Archie, and at the time she’d joked that they were for widows. Well, she’d been right. Standing in front of her, reflected back, was a widow, a woman who’d lost the love of her life, a woman now seeking answers.
Lloyd thinks there was someone behind it. He doesn’t believe it was two chancers, it was too well-timed, maybe well-funded, she thought to herself. She had to admit, there were many unanswered questions. Where did they get the money to pay off the guards? She’d called a couple of their guards. They said Archie had given them the evening off. But why would Archie do that after the Albanian set-up? He’d never have left them exposed like that, surely?
She couldn’t discuss it with Cathy. Her daughter was distraught, clinging to her mum, crying all day and all night.
Would she ever get over this? Would either of them?
Ruby watched as Belle stepped out of the rental car, squinting at the sunshine. Cathy broke away from Ruby who was standing by the villa doorway and ran to her aunt. Ruby had asked Cathy if she wanted to go somewhere else even for just a few weeks while the horror was still fresh, but Cathy, strangely, had insisted they stay.
‘I want to be where Dad was. I want to stay in our home,’ she’d said, and Ruby, who was unable to deny her anything, had reluctantly agreed.
‘There, there Cathy, it’s all going to be OK. I’m so sorry. Come here, darling girl,’ Belle said embracing her.
‘Come on inside, I don’t like hangin’ about out ’ere, we don’t know if we’re safe.’ Ruby shivered despite the late-summer sunshine.
Inside, Cathy, Bobby and Belle headed to the lounge to sit together, while Lloyd, who’d arrived with Alfie an hour earlier, appeared in the doorway.
‘Come inside, Ruby, we need to talk,’ he said. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping either, though he was composed if pale. Ruby saw his strength, the strength of a man who ran a drug cartel, a man who, faced with his own son’s death, could look at the next move forward.
‘Alfie and I ’ave been talkin’ it through. The robbery don’t make sense. We think there’s more to it than that.’
Ruby smiled a thin, sad smile, though her eyes glittered. ‘I agree, though we can’t prove anythin’. I tell you, if someone was behind this, if someone plotted to kill my Archie, and us, then they’d better run because I’ll be after them.’
She looked away as though her thoughts overwhelmed her. She could hear Cathy crying and the soothing low voices of Bobby and Belle. She felt grateful her daughter was finding some comfort, as there was none for her.
Alfie, who was standing with them in the office that Ruby had once shared with her husband, wiped tears away from his face, which was grey with shock and sleeplessness. He drew heavily on a cigarette, and exhaled, running his hands through his hair. His eyes were almost demented. If this was a stitch-up. If Alfie – or Lloyd – found those responsible, she didn’t hold much for their chances. They’d be tortured and slaughtered like meat in an abattoir, and neither of them would blink at it. She felt their need for vengeance – it matched her own.
‘If, and I do say if, there is more to this, then we’ll hunt them down and destroy whoever is behind this. Don’t worry, Lloyd, Archie’s death hasn’t made me soft.’ Ruby’s eyes were hard as she looked back at her father-in-law.
‘Let’s get the funeral done and out of the way, but behind the scenes, we’ll start makin’ discreet enquiries among our criminal networks, only trusted allies, but we’ll make a start,’ Lloyd said. ‘Ruby, you need to act the part of grieving widow, victim of a robbery gone wrong. Can you do that?’
‘Oh, I can do that,’ said Ruby bleakly.
Alfie stepped forward and wrapped Ruby in his arms, trying to offer her some level of comfort.
She stayed in his embrace for just a moment, before she disentangled herself and walked out of the room. She just needed to be alone for a moment.
She tried not to picture Archie’s handsome face, the way he smiled at her, that heady mixture of love and lust, which she’d returned in full. Yet each night, when she shut her eyes, there he was, her golden husband, the man of her life. She feared those visions, but she yearned for them too, wanting to remember every inch of him, dreading the day he started to fade away from her mind because that would be losing him all over again.
Once the formalities were over, Archie’s body was released for burial, the official explanation being that his killers were dead by Ruby’s hands in self-defence. The funeral preparations were then underway. An English-speaking funeral director was appointed by Ruby and the event was planned for two days’ time. Lloyd and Alfie rang round their contacts and soon, crooks were flying in from all over the globe in support of the Willson family.
Ruby handled everything on auto-pilot. On the morning of the funeral, she dressed slowly in a black Christian Dior dress and heels. She had chosen a black pillbox hat with a veil that draped down, covering her face. She would also wear dark glasses to hide her eyes from the crowds that would, no doubt, treat this rich widow with fascination and horror.
‘Madam, you have a visitor,’ Ruby’s new maid said, knocking gently on her bedroom door. Ruby rose, straightened her dress and walked down the sweeping staircase. Vladimir was standing at the bottom, a huge bouquet of white lilies in his arms.
‘Thank you for comin’, Mr Ivanov,’ she said. She’d sent him a discreet note asking him to visit her prior to the limousines arriving.
‘Call me Vladimir, please,’ he said, planting a kiss on her hand.
‘Vladimir,’ she murmured, leading him away from the entrance so they couldn’t be overheard. ‘There is somethin’ I want you to do for me.’
‘Anything, dear lady, anything for such sorrow,’ he replied, his eyes boring into hers.
‘We are askin’ our contacts, discreetly, mind you . . .’ Ruby took a deep breath. ‘My husband’s death and the robbery may ’ave been arranged. We want to know, not think. And if there’s a who, we want to know their identity. By now we’ve built up a business relationship, Vladimir, and as our partnership
grows stronger, I wondered if you were in a position to help us?’ Her words were barely audible but Vladimir understood.
‘You want me to make . . . discreet . . . enquiries?’ he said.
‘I do,’ she answered. ‘Lloyd and Alfie are already talkin’ to our associates, but as you ’ave so many Spanish connections, I thought it would be stupid not to ask you. Can I rely on your discretion?’
‘Of course you can, dear lady. Ask anything of me. I will do everything in my power to assist you – and your family – in these terrible times.’
He looked into her green eyes, holding her steady gaze.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sealing their unwritten contract.
They walked together to the waiting limousines. Ruby stepped into the first one. Cathy and Belle were already inside. Bobby would follow with Alfie and Lloyd.
The car drew away, making its way slowly down the winding road to the cemetery.
The ceremony was packed, but Ruby was unaware of the others, only Cathy’s clammy hand in hers. She felt cold despite the late summer heat as the priest intoned the ritual over her husband’s graveside. She watched Archie’s casket as it was lowered into the ground, and stood at the graveside to throw in the first clod of earth. She felt as if her body had frozen from the inside, and nothing would ever touch her again.
The wake was a lavish affair. Fears over needing a pauper’s funeral were no longer a part of her reality. The villa was filled with flowers, the white lilies Ruby adored. Her staff were catering for hundreds and a large marquee had been erected in the grounds. Ruby watched as Lloyd, as head of the family, hosted the event. She was grateful to be by his side, letting him lead the day. She nodded, accepting condolences from people she’d never met before, as shady men mixed with glamorous models and celebrities, wishing they would all disappear and she could be left with her thoughts. Cathy made her escape early on in the company of Belle, but Ruby wasn’t afforded the same luxury.
The hours dragged on, and Ruby finally made her excuses and left the party, slipping into her room and telling her maid to admit no one. Once inside, she peeled off the hat, which had left her feeling claustrophobic, and finally the grief came, washing over her with her tears. She cried for a long time, and when she finally finished, she looked over at herself in her large mirror, a copy of one at the Palace of Versailles. She walked over to it, seeing herself as if for the first time. Her make-up had run and so she wiped her face clean with a scented towelette. She looked again. This time a woman with expensively-cut hair wearing a designer black dress looked back at her. She saw her creamy skin, contrasting with the flash of her emerald eyes. She saw the necklace of diamonds and emeralds glittering at her throat, her wedding ring on her hand, so solid, so tough.
Despite her grief, she saw a woman with her head high, with pride in herself and her family. She saw a murderess, a negotiator, a hardened woman who would stop at nothing to avenge the death of her man. She would bury her feelings. She would carry on, more in control, more powerful than ever. She would become even tougher. She saw herself now, not as a soft, homely mother, but as a businesswoman, a woman of her own creation. It had taken a long time – and many tragedies – to get to this position but here she was at last. Nothing would stop her ever again, and nothing would harm her daughter. Nothing and no one. She would rise from this latest, overwhelming grief, like a phoenix from the ashes of her life.
She didn’t know if Archie had died in a set-up, if the robbers were the chancers she’d guessed – or whether there was someone, or some organisation, behind it all. But it didn’t feel like it was over.
Her intuition said it wasn’t, and she knew she would hunt to the ends of the earth for answers.
Either way, she vowed to use this deep grief, to become so powerful that no one could touch them or hurt them ever again. What happened with the gunmen should never have happened. People should have been too afraid to ever take the chance of crossing them. She had to become untouchable. No one would ever dare take a bribe to let in a chancer. No one would consider doing them over, or trying to harm her family. She had to become stronger, swifter, sharper. Her only safety – and that of her family – from now on was to be on top, to become the most powerful woman in the drug business. Nothing else mattered.
Finally, she reapplied her make-up and stepped back into the events of the day a changed woman. She motioned to Lloyd, Alfie and Vladimir to meet in the office that was now hers alone. She saw Belle comforting Cathy through the large window, the pair sitting together by the pool, and she saw that she couldn’t give her daughter the comfort she craved. She knew that she couldn’t give Cathy a simpler life, because Ruby wasn’t a simple woman. The knowledge was like a blade in her heart. She fought it down, discarding the feeling, knowing that it would be better this way.
‘Gentlemen, I’ve asked Mr Ivanov to help us. I want us to discover the truth. If someone ordered Archie’s death, they will pay for what they did. I want their blood. Alfie, Lloyd, work with Vladimir. I want them dead.’
The men looked at her, and she knew what they saw at that moment: a woman without remorse, a cold killer.
Lloyd nodded. In that gesture, he acknowledged a new head of the family. He realised Ruby had stepped up, beyond her husband’s shoes and into her power. He saw a woman hell-bent on vengeance.
He nodded to Vladimir.
‘Of course, Ruby. Alfie and I will do what you say.’
Alfie nodded then looked away.
Ruby smiled sadly. ‘Come now, let’s celebrate our continued friendship.’
Vladimir reached for a bottle of the finest vintage champagne from the open drinks cabinet, its shiny surface filling the room with dappled light.
‘For a grieving widow, and for our continued friendship. Please accept my condolences. I will do everything in my power to assist you all,’ Vladimir said softly.
She accepted a glass filled with bubbly.
‘To new beginnings.’
‘New beginnings,’ the three men echoed.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Locksmith is a book that’s existed in my head for years, and thanks to my literary agent, Kerr MacRae, it slowly became a reality on the page. Thank you, Kerr, for all your support, insight and belief in my story!
It took a whole team to make this book a reality and I want to say thank you to everyone. Thank you to Jon Elek, Cathryn Kemp, Tara Loder and Rosa Schierenberg for helping me bring Ruby to life. You are all absolute diamonds. This book was written in lockdown, but you’d never know it from the amount of time we managed to spend together; online and on the phone, of course.
Thanks also go to James Horobin and his incredible team of amazing sales, marketing and PR experts. The enthusiasm and energy from this team has been second to none. Also, huge thanks to Alex Allden, Dominic Forbes and Larry Rostant for the cover. I’m not sure I told you, but: ‘I love it!’
And a special thanks goes to my dear friend Martina Cole. Martina, who would have imagined that some day I would be the one writing a book? You have supported this book from the start, but more than that, you have been a brilliant friend. Thank you for everything!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
‘The first time I held a gun, I forgot to breathe’
Linda Calvey has served 18 years behind bars, making her Britain’s longest-serving female prisoner. She moved to 14 different prisons, doing time with Rose West and Myra Hindley. But prison didn’t break her.
Since her release, Linda has become a full-time author. Her 2019 memoir The Black Widow fascinated readers.
Villains aren’t born.
They’re made.
But what does a villain like Ruby do
when they’re betrayed?
Find out in Linda Calvey’s
next book.
Published in 2021 by Welbeck Fiction Limited, part of Welbeck
Publishing Group 20 Mortimer Street London W1T 3JW
Copyright © Linda Calvey, 2021
&
nbsp; The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners and the publishers.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-78739-526-8
Tradepaperback ISBN: 978-1-78739-527-5
