She's Out

by Lynda La Plante

  Ester’s face was tight with anger. “There’s an arsenal of weapons down in the sauna. Gloria’s husband’s guns, three bags full of them.”

  Julia looked at Gloria, stunned. “Are you serious?” But before Ester could say anything more Mike Withey walked in.

  “I’ll need all your names, dates of birth, present and past addresses.”

  Behind Mike, the women could see the officers moving up the stairs, while others headed down to the cellar. No one spoke. All they could do now was wait for the police to find the weapons.

  Chapter 8

  Craigh sat with his notebook open as Dolly drank a cup of tea. She hadn’t offered him one. She had admitted that she knew James “Jimmy” Donaldson, and seemed shocked when told he was dead.

  “Dead? But he can’t be. I only spoke to him yesterday. I met up with him a few days ago.” She sat down with a heavy sigh.

  “Would you mind telling me why you met Mr. Donaldson?”

  “He was keeping something for me. I’ve been in prison, you see, and, oh, this is a shock . . .”

  Craigh tapped his pen on the table. “What was he holding for you, Mrs. Rawlins?”

  “Well, they were nothing to look at, really. You wouldn’t even think they were valuable, but they are, they’re worth a lot of money.”

  He leaned close. “What exactly, Mrs. Rawlins?”

  “They used to be in my front garden at Totteridge. Gnomes—two Victorian garden gnomes. Not the bright plastic things but proper old carved stone ones. Jimmy was holding them for me until I got out. I called to see if he still had them and we arranged for me to collect them today, as a matter of fact.”

  Craigh wrote down every word, gritting his teeth. “Did you in fact collect them from Mr. Donaldson?”

  “I couldn’t get away because I had a very important meeting at the town hall.”

  “What time?”

  Dolly said she’d been at the town hall from three fifteen until after five—shortly before they had arrived, in fact: she had been there for an assessment interview.

  “Can anyone verify that, Mrs. Rawlins?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Craigh dug the pen in deeply as he wrote one name after the other. He had a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had been well and truly stitched up.

  The officers searched every room, lifted the floorboards, opened cupboards and cases. They went into the attic, they were out in the stables. Kathleen remained stuck on the roof, half hidden by the gables, not moving a muscle. For eight hours, fifteen men searched the grounds, the swimming pool and the cellars.

  Finally Kathleen crawled back into the room she’d escaped from and fell asleep under the bed. The police were now concentrating on the sauna and steam room. The women waited, expecting any moment for the shout to go up but it never came. They smelt bacon being cooked and, to their amazement, Dolly walked in with a tray of bacon butties. Gloria was about to blurt out to Dolly how much trouble they were in, but Dolly shoved a sandwich into her hand. “Eat it and say nothing.”

  Gloria stuffed a big bite of the sandwich into her mouth and sat down.

  Craigh was picking through the sauna when Mike joined him. “They’re searching the grounds now, but so far nothing.”

  Craigh felt knackered and, even worse, foolish. “She’s got about eight or nine people giving her alibis. She was at the ruddy social services.”

  Mike was as tired out as Craigh and couldn’t work out if this was good news or bad.

  “This all stinks, you know that, don’t you?” Craigh started pacing up and down. “The Super’s gonna have a seizure about the whole cock-up—Donaldson was in our custody.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mike muttered.

  “You’re sorry. Jesus Christ, sorry? Have you any idea what kind of a mess we’re in? Donaldson dead, no sign of the diamonds . . .” Craigh hesitated and then licked his lips. “Look, until we’ve sorted this, keep schtum about those stones. I never put it in the record sheets so maybe we can—”

  “Fine by me.”

  Mike nodded, his brain ticking away. He concentrated on looking as glum as Craigh obviously felt, while he thanked God nothing had been found. He was off the hook.

  Dolly watched the London mob, as she referred to Craigh and Withey, leaving, then let the curtain fall back into place. “Right,” she yawned. “I’m off to bed.”

  “How the hell can you sleep?” Ester said.

  Dolly shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

  Gloria was pulling at a piece of sodden tissue. “Did you move them, Dolly? Did you?”

  She gave her a hard look. “What the hell do you think, you stupid idiot? Of course I bloody moved them—and a good thing too or we’d all have been arrested. I’ve been waiting for you to mention them.”

  “I got nothing to do with them,” said Ester.

  “But you bloody knew they was in the house.”

  Ester turned away. It was always the same: instead of being grateful to Dolly, she just said nothing, whereas Gloria would have kissed her feet. But none of them was prepared for Dolly’s next admission, dropping the line in quietly, with a little smile. “I also got the diamonds but I’m not talking about it yet. Like I said, I need to sleep, get my head straight.”

  “You got them?” Ester said in wonder.

  “Yes, Ester, I got them but they’re not here. What is here smells, because someone tipped off the police. Somebody here’s grassing on me—one of you. One of you hates me enough to get me put back inside and I’m going to find out which one of you it is.”

  She walked out, slamming the door. No one spoke, not quite believing what they had heard her say, hardly daring to believe they still had a chance of a cut of the diamonds. Then Gloria said, “Grassin’? What she friggin’ talkin’ about? None of us’d do it, I mean, we want them diamonds as much as she does. She’s nuts if she thinks it’s one of us!”

  Angela started to cry again and ran out of the room before anyone could tell her off, bumping into Kathleen, who was creeping down the stairs as the last of the Thames Valley police drove away. They all looked as she walked into the drawing room.

  “Where the hell have you been?” asked Ester.

  Dolly couldn’t sleep. She stared at a stain on the wall, wondering. Who would hate her enough to want to put her back inside? Because that’s what it came down to. If she’d been picked up with the diamonds, virtually holding Donaldson’s hand, the cops would have had her. Even if they couldn’t pin the old robbery on her, they’d have had her for fencing the stolen diamonds. Either way, with her out on parole, she’d have been back in a cell straight away and with no hope of bail. Was it just that dirty little conman, Jimmy? If it was, then he’d got his just desserts, but something inside her said there had to be more to it than that. Harry had taught her, “Always remember, sweetheart, it takes two to tango. One leads, the other follows.” So who was Jimmy’s dance partner? If it was one of the women she would find out and God help them.

  The next morning Dolly left the house and drove straight to the town hall. She hurried into the ladies’ and found the pouch bag exactly where she had left it. She kissed it with relief. She then got down, straightened her skirt and slipped out, bumping into a surprised Mrs. Tilly in the corridor.

  “Mrs. Rawlins?”

  “I was just passing. I know there’s no possibility of you having any answers for me yet but I just wanted to ask you how I did. Was I all right?”

  “Yes, you were. I thought you handled yourself very well but it’ll be some time before we have any definite news. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate all your help.”

  As Dolly hurried out, Mrs. Tilly went in to speak to Mr. Crow.

  “You know, Mrs. Rawlins is so keen, I think we should push forward an on-site visit. I worry she may spend too much money without approval and I don’t want her to waste her savings.”

  He looked up fro
m his diary. “Well, we’ll have to get some appraisals from her probation officer and the prison authorities. And we’re nowhere near ready even to discuss the project yet.”

  “Well, I would just like us to inspect the Manor House. She was so enthusiastic.”

  He smiled, flattening down his few strands of hair. “I’ll see what I can do. If we’re visiting anyone near the location we can possibly have a look over the place as well. I was also impressed by her. I very much doubt if she will ever be allowed access to very young children—not enough experience—but she might be good with the older children, the problem ones particularly. Leave it with me.”

  Mrs. Tilly smiled and left the office. She doubted if Mr. Crow would show Dolly Rawlins any favors. He was a stickler for rules and regulations, after all. But if he was going to make an exception for anyone, she thought it might be Dolly.

  Dolly stopped at a phone booth and called Tommy Malin. She asked if he was still in business—unlike Jimmy Donaldson. They had a few laughs, and she said she would be around later in the afternoon as she had something that might interest him. She then returned to the manor. As she came in she saw Angela on the telephone. “Who you calling, love?”

  Angela spun round. “Oh—my mum. I’ve not told her where I am.”

  “Well don’t, and don’t make private calls—that goes for all of you. Fewer people who know what’s going on here the better.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to London. You want to come with me?” Angela nodded. “Good, in about an hour, then.”

  The others, who had overheard the conversation from the kitchen, whispered and nudged each other, sure that Dolly was off to fence the stones. Ester gave them all a quiet talking-to: they were to show a lot more willing, they were to get out to that vegetable patch and look like they were working and loving every minute of it. They got to their feet, went out and began to trudge around with wheelbarrows, spades and rakes. When Dolly and Angela left in the local taxi, they appeared to be too intent on their labor even to notice them go.

  As the cab passed them, Dolly laughed. “Amazing what a bit of incentive can do, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t understand,” Angela said.

  “Well, they all know I’m going to fence the diamonds this morning and they all want a slice so ‘Let’s show Dolly how hard we’re working!’”

  Angela very nearly smiled. “Oh, yes, I see what you mean.”

  Mike had waited after Angela put down the receiver. He was hoping she would call back right away but after half an hour he gave up. It had unnerved him to be told that Dolly Rawlins had the diamonds but there was nothing he could do about it. If he told Craigh, he could just feel himself sinking deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself.

  Susan walked in with a bag of groceries. “Hi, I didn’t wake you when I went out, did I?”

  “No, I’m up. I’ve had something to eat. I was just going to go, actually.”

  “Oh, were you? You stayed out all night. Surely they can’t expect you to work today?”

  He sighed. “Yes, they can.”

  “There was another call from your girlfriend yesterday—I tried to contact you, she seemed upset.”

  “What?”

  “She was crying, in a terrible state.” She stared at him, waiting. “She said her name was Angela.”

  “I heard you,” he snapped.

  “What’s going on with her, then?”

  He took a deep breath. “She’s a tart, sweetheart, a young kid I helped out a while back when I was on Vice. Now sometimes she acts as an informant. There is nothing going on between us, it’s business, all right? Is that all right with you?”

  “I don’t like tarts having your home phone number or ringing me up screaming and yelling. Is that all right with you?” Susan went into the kitchen. He dithered, knowing he should talk to her, try and straighten things out, but instead he grabbed his car keys and left without a word.

  Sitting in the back of a taxi heading for Tommy Malin’s address, Dolly took Angela’s hand. “Don’t you worry about that hit-and-run. Gloria said there wasn’t a mark on the car and if they’d got anything on you—on any of us—we’d have been pulled in last night.” Angela clutched Dolly’s hand tightly, desperate to believe her. “Will you want to stay on and help me?” Angela nodded. “I’ll be able to pay you a decent wage and you could even have cookery classes. Would you like that?”

  Angela sniffed. “Yes, I would.”

  She wanted to tell Dolly about Mike, about everything. She liked her so much, felt protected by her—but how could she tell her? And now, with that poor man she’d run over, it was all so complicated. She wanted to talk to Mike, needed to ask his advice.

  The cab headed toward Elephant and Castle and then turned off down a small one-way road, stopping outside a paint yard. Dolly got out, saying, “You wait here, love, I shouldn’t be too long.”

  Angela watched as Dolly knocked on the door and disappeared inside the yard.

  A young kid in filthy overalls pointed Dolly toward the office and then re-joined his colleagues stripping down some pine furniture.

  “Dolly Rawlins,” wheezed Tommy Malin, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Hello, Tommy.” They shook hands and he gestured for her to go in ahead of him. He waved at the workmen and closed the door.

  “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “That’d be nice,” she said, taking in the cheap desk, rows of bulging and dented filing cabinets and the massive cast-iron safe. Dolly eased herself onto a newspaper-filled chair. She looked over the equally cluttered desk: the scales, the rows of diamond cutters and pinchers, and rolls of velvet cloth, the only indication that perhaps Mr. Malin’s paint and pine-stripping factory was also used for other purposes. Tommy Malin would deal in literally anything he could turn round fast. He was famous for his high percentage and his “no risk” attitude. He would deal in hot stuff but always insisted on a long chilling period. That was why he was so wealthy and had so far avoided arrest. He was very, very careful.

  The women had done a half-day’s work. Rods had been fixed up, more seeds sown, and the rubbish was now tipped into a skip left for them by the builder. Big John was getting a bit edgy; it was almost payday, he’d used up all his savings to buy the materials, and still Mrs. Rawlins hadn’t given him the down payment. He’d seen all the women working out in the garden but Mrs. Rawlins wasn’t among them. He’d even looked for her inside the house, but she wasn’t there, either.

  Connie was testing the sauna temperature when he asked if he could have a word. She turned and gave him a wonderful smile that made him flush.

  “I’m sorry to bother you but is Mrs. Rawlins around?”

  “No, I’m sorry, she’s gone into London. Can I help at all?”

  He could feel his cheeks burning. “Well, it was just we had an arrangement and Mrs. Rawlins is a bit behind with the first installment, you see, and I have to pay the men, pay for the materials and—”

  “Oh, she’s gone to get some money this afternoon.” Connie gave another beaming smile. “You couldn’t have a look at the sauna for me, could you? I think I’ve got it working but I’m not sure.”

  She brushed against him as they went into the small Swedish sauna hut. John checked the temperature dials and the coals. “Do you like it hot?” he asked seriously.

  “Oh yes, as hot as you can give it to me.” He flushed again but she seemed to be concentrating on the temperature gauge. “Do you work out?”

  He stepped back—he couldn’t deal with her closeness. She was the most glamorous woman he had ever been this close to in his entire life. “Yes, there’s a good local gym, very well equipped.”

  “Ah, I thought you did, I can always tell. You’ve got marvelous shoulders.”

  Now the heat of the sauna was making him sweat but he didn’t want to go. He found himself automatically flexing everything, even tightening his bum cheeks.

  John breathed in gratefully as she open
ed the sauna door. He was getting dizzy.

  “Thanks for your help, John.”

  When Connie joined the others, they were sweating and filthy. “Sauna’s working, it’s really hot. Do any of you want to work out first?”

  She received a barrage of abuse in reply—as if after all the digging and wheeling stuff in barrows they needed to work out! All they wanted was a cold drink and a long afternoon in the sauna.

  Tommy’s wheezing breath and halitosis were overpowering. The drawn blinds, the bolted door and the hissing gas fire made Dolly feel light-headed. She took off her coat. Tommy’s thick stubby fingers began to unfurl the cord round the pouch bag. He pulled it open and laid it out flat.

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I just made these up for somebody.”

  “What?”

  He turned his lamp out and pushed his eye-glass onto his forehead. “You didn’t pay a bundle for these, did you, sweetheart?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I made them up. They’re glass, good settings . . . I mean, I did spend quite a few hours—”

  “You made these?”

  Tommy stared at Dolly, whose face was now chalk white.

  “Who for, Tommy?”

  He wouldn’t usually have said—clients are clients, and he was always a man to keep his mouth shut—but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to leave his office until he told her.

  “I nearly went back inside for this crap, Tommy, so you tell me who ordered you to make them up.”

  Mike knew something was up the moment the message came over the tannoy for him to go into DCI Craigh’s office. Craigh looked up at him as he knocked sheepishly and entered. He pointed to the chair in front of his desk and told Mike to sit down. Mike could see a stack of files on his desk, including one with Dolly Rawlins’s name printed across it. “Right, let’s go from the top and don’t bullshit me.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I think you do. I am in it right up to my fucking ears over this Donaldson business. I’ve got the Super, the prison authorities, Donaldson’s wife, his parole officer, all breathing fire all over me so let’s start at the beginning, shall we? How did you know that Rawlins had bought the Manor House?”