‘No, there isn’t one. I know every train that passes through this station, how long they take to cross the bridge and—’
‘So you write them all down, then?’
‘Yes,’ he said, proudly proffering his thick wedge of school exercise books. ‘Each train has its own book.’
Dolly took one of the books with his thick scrawled writing across the front. ‘Mail train.’ She flipped over the pages. He had listed every delivery, time of arrival at and departure from the station, plus delays at the crossing.
‘You’re very thorough, Raymond,’ Dolly said, as her eyes took in his dates and times. She then shut the book and passed it back to him as the lights changed and the train went by. As the gates opened, she returned to the Mini.
‘Thank you very much, Raymond.’ She smiled and waved as she drove past him. She felt strangely calm, almost as if it was fate. Had she been subconsciously thinking about it? It seemed so natural. It certainly wouldn’t be easy but, then, she had always liked a challenge. This would be one – but it would also be a terrifyingly dangerous one.
A few minutes later, Dolly parked the car and walked up into the woods. From there she had a direct view of the station, the bridge, the lake and the level crossing. She spent over half an hour carefully checking the layout of the land. She could tell by one look why the police had chosen this specific station to unload the money from the road on to the train. There were only two access roads, both very narrow, and room for only one vehicle at a time. Anyone attempting to hold up the security wagon as it delivered the money to the train would be cut off. The station could easily be manned by as few as four or six police officers and no one could hide out there. If they did, if they hit the train standing in the platform, they wouldn’t have a hope in hell of transporting the money by road as there was no access for the getaway vehicles. The tracks were lined with hedgerows and wide open fields, not a road in sight, and the train would head across the bridge, travelling at up to eighty miles an hour.
Dolly studied the bridge. Fifty-five feet high, the lake beneath, no access either side of the tracks, just a narrow walkway. She knew it would be impossible. How could you hold up the train on the bridge and get away with heavy mailbags on foot? It couldn’t be done. Then she looked down at the lake, back to the bridge. If you got a boat, you’d still have to reach the shore, and no vehicles could get down there. Again, there were no roads, just fields, hedges and streams.
Dolly was so immersed in her thoughts that she spun round in shock when she heard twigs cracking, her heart pounding. Julia appeared, riding Helen of Troy.
‘Sorry if I made you jump. I did call out!’
Dolly covered her fright, smiling. ‘I didn’t hear you – I didn’t even see you, come to think about it. You been here long?’
‘No, I just rode up, cut across the fields.’ Julia dismounted and tied up the horse. ‘How did it go at the social services?’ she asked.
‘It didn’t. It’s finished.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I. Are they easy to ride?’
‘Yeah. Why, you thinking of taking lessons?’
Dolly moved tentatively towards Helen, putting out her hand to stroke her nose.
‘She won’t bite you. Be confident, they know when you’re nervous.’ Julia moved to stand behind Dolly, resting her arm round her shoulders.
Dolly slowly petted Helen’s nose again. ‘That Norma … she said this was police-trained?’
‘Yep. She’s very solid, nothing scares her. As Norma said, she’s bomb-proof. Be good for kids to learn on.’
Dolly withdrew her hand, her face drawn. ‘Yes, well, there won’t be any kids to teach. I’ll see you back at the house.’
She trudged off as Julia unhitched the reins and got back into the saddle. She rode away, not even aware that Dolly had turned back to watch her as she cantered into the fields.
There was a way to get to that train. Julia was now galloping, disappearing from sight as she jumped the hedges.
DCI Craigh and DI Palmer looked over the forensic reports taken from the red Volvo. There was no indication that the car had been involved in any accident, no traces of blood, no body tissues. They didn’t have enough to bring charges against Gloria Radford and, even if she had hired the car, they had no evidence that she had run over James Donaldson. In other words, they had fuck all.
‘Now what?’
Craigh looked at Palmer and shrugged. ‘Well, we’re up for a hard rap around the knuckles, that’s for starters. The Super’s getting his knickers in a twist, and we’re gonna have to iron this out somehow.’
Palmer looked over their reports and noted the vast amount it had cost Thames Valley and the Met to mount the searches of the manor, together with the surveillance. All would have to be costed and all they had to date was one arrest. Kathleen O’Reilly.
Craigh tugged at his hair. ‘I’m going to interview O’Reilly again. So far she’s not said a bloody word, but you never know.’
‘Bring her in, shall I?’
Kathleen had been taken to Holloway. She would stand trial again for the previous charges of fraud and kiting but, as Craigh had said, she was unforthcoming and had only admitted to her name and the previous charges. She insisted she was just staying at the manor and that Dolly Rawlins had no knowledge of her previous record or that she was on a wanted list. All she did was pay Rawlins rent.
Mike appeared, sidled round and tried to make himself invisible when Craigh nabbed him. ‘I’m going to talk to O’Reilly again but the word from the Gov is to stay well clear of Rawlins. We got to get ourselves out of this mess so you make sure your reports are tight as a nut.’
Mike hesitated. ‘What about my sister?’
‘Less said about her the better. We’re in enough trouble as it is so just get on with the backlog of work on your desk.’ Craigh glared at him. ‘This isn’t over yet, son. We could all be in trouble. We never found any diamonds so that’s been sorted, understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Craigh walked away, and Mike wandered to his desk and sat down. His heart was thudding in his chest. Had he got away with it? Or was that call from Rawlins going to be some kind of threat? He felt sick to his stomach and when he reached for his files his hand was shaking as if it didn’t belong to him. He was scared that Rawlins would put him in the frame. If she did, he was finished.
Kathleen was as non-committal with Craigh as she had been the night she was arrested. She didn’t know anything about any diamonds or guns; all she did was rent a room from Dolly Rawlins.
‘What you think she is? Some kind of female Al Capone? Why don’t you leave her alone? All she’s doin’ is tryin’ to open a home for kids and you’re harassing her, that’s what you’re doing.’
Craigh thanked her for her observations and left. Kathleen seemed to know she would go down for at least five years this time. She appeared resigned to it. Maybe she didn’t know anything about Rawlins and maybe, he began to mull it over, they had been pressured into the searches and warrants by Mike Withey because he had personal motives. The more Craigh thought about it the more he made up his mind that if the Super tapped on his shoulder, then he’d point the finger at Mike. He wasn’t going to take all the blame. Mike Withey had a lot to answer for and if it came down to it he would have to.
Dolly sat with a mug of tea. She was deep in thought when Ester walked in. ‘Angela’s still in her room. Gloria took up a coffee at breakfast time, told her to get packed, but she’s still in there.’
Dolly got up and poured the dregs of the tea into the sink. ‘I don’t care, just get rid of her. I got to go up to London, have a word with Kathleen.’
Connie walked in with three sheets of paper. ‘Dolly, you wanted John to give estimates for the damage when the police raided the house.’
Dolly inspected the figures and gave a wonderful smile. ‘These are good. Oh, Connie, can I have a word?’ She said to Ester, ‘Can you leave us for a minute?’
>
Ester sloped off, and Dolly dried the mug carefully, placing it back on its hook. There’s a signal box at the station, young bloke on duty – I think there’s two of them. Will you get to know them? Find out what time they come on duty, when they’re off and who does nights, that kind of thing.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I want you to.’ Connie pulled a face and Dolly moved closer. ‘This time, Connie, if needs be you fuck them because I want that information. I want you to know that signal box layout better than your own body, understand me?’
Connie stepped back. ‘Yes, … all right.’
‘Good – and don’t tell any of the others, just get on with it.’
Dolly went out of the back door and called Julia, who was leading Helen of Troy back into the stables. ‘A minute, love.’
Ester caught Connie as she went up the stairs. ‘What was that about?’
Connie looked back down the stairs. ‘She said not to tell you.’
‘So, what did she want?’
Connie repeated what Dolly had told her then carried on up the stairs. Ester was about to go into the kitchen when she overheard Dolly talking to Julia. ‘You see Norma, try and find out about the security at the station.’
‘Why?’ Julia asked, as she pulled off her boots.
‘Don’t ask questions, just do it. I want to know about the local police and the security around the station. She’ll know. If she doesn’t then fine, but test her out.’
Julia felt uneasy but there was a toughness to Dolly that unnerved her so she kept quiet.
Dolly walked into the hall. She saw the drawing-room door closing: Ester had made a quick move in there so she wouldn’t be discovered. ‘Ester.’
Ester popped her head out, acting surprised. ‘Oh! What you want?’
‘That kid, the trainspotter. He’s got books, train times and—’
‘We can get you a timetable you know, Dolly.’
Dolly’s mouth was set in a thin tight line. ‘Yes, I know, but I want the times and details of one specific train. The mail train. Get his book off him but do it without him knowing.’
‘That shouldn’t be too hard – he’s mental anyway.’
Dolly picked up the phone and began to dial. Ester hovered a moment before she went into the kitchen.
Julia was still there, drinking a cup of tea. ‘She’s planning something, isn’t she?’ she said.
Ester nodded. ‘Yeah. I knew it. I always knew that if she had her back to the wall she’d come up with something.’
‘Yeah, but what is it?’
Ester leaned close, one eye on the door. ‘I think it’s the security wagon that delivers the money to the mail train.’
Julia let out her breath. ‘Jesus Christ.’
Ester kept her eye on the door, afraid Dolly would walk in. ‘She held back three shotguns from Gloria’s stash. She reckoned she was going to do something. Well, she was right.’
Julia rubbed her arms. ‘Do we really want to be involved in it, though?’
Ester nudged her, grinning. ‘What do you think? Let’s just play her along, see what pans out. In the meantime, we got this place, we got board and food, so why not?’
Dolly drove into George Fuller’s car park. He was the lawyer who had represented her at her trial. A clever, iron-faced man employed by many top-level crooks, he was expensive but he was as tough as his face and even when he smiled a greeting he seemed to be sneering.
‘Hello, Dolly, good to see you. Sit down.’
She perched on a chair in his immaculate office and passed over the estimates from the builders. ‘I’m being harassed. I want them off my back, George.’
He nodded, then lifted his briefcase on to the desk. ‘Right. We can go there now and you can fill me in on the way. I’m in court at two so we’ve not much time.’
Dolly stood up. She liked George, he got straight to the point. He held the door open, beckoning her to follow him.
They drove to the police station in Fuller’s immaculate green Jaguar and Dolly told him exactly what had occurred since she was released from Holloway. She also asked if he would take on Kathleen O’Reilly’s case as a favour to her. He inclined his head a little, and then gave that icy smile. ‘If she can meet the fees, then yes.’
‘She can’t but I will.’
Ester and Julia had already left to begin their assignments. Julia was calling at Norma’s cottage and Ester went to talk to Raymond Dewey. Connie was already at the station, watching the man in the signal box. He had a pot belly and she felt he would have heavy BO. She shuddered but then, crossing to the signal box, she saw the pleasant-faced young man who had given her a lift the day she arrived. She saw him walk up the steps, as the pot-bellied man banged out.
‘You’re late again, Jim.’
‘Sorry, Mac, got held up.’
‘Oh yeah? Who was it last night, then?’
Jim guffawed as he entered the signal box. Connie waited a moment and then ran out, colliding with the fat man. She was right. He was a walking BO advert. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she gasped as she fell forward and then yelped. ‘My ankle, oh …’
It didn’t take long for Jim to come down the steps with a glass of water as Connie sat at the bottom. She sipped the water and then tried to stand but had to sit down again.
‘I’m sorry, love, I just didn’t see you. Do you need a doctor?’ Pot-bellied Mac looked down into her face, concerned.
‘I’m all right, just a bit dizzy.’
Jim helped her up and looked at his mate. ‘You go off, Mac, I’ll take care of her. Maybe she should just sit here for a while.’
Mac muttered that he just bet his mate would take care of her, and trundled off towards his beat-up Ford Granada. ‘See you tomorrow, Jim.’
But Jim wasn’t listening. He was supporting Connie, his arm around her.
‘Lucky sod,’ mused Mac, as he drove out. He wouldn’t have minded taking care of her – she was a cracker.
DCI Craigh stared at the estimates then at George Fuller and at the impassive face of Dolly Rawlins. He didn’t really look at them properly – he was too edgy. Fuller had detailed the police warrant issues, times and dates, and that on her release Rawlins had, in his estimation, been harassed. If it was to be made public, not only the waste of public money but that a woman who had served her sentence and been released with every good intention of building a home for ex-prisoners, had been picked on, there would be trouble. Craigh tried to interrupt but Fuller stopped him, not letting him get a word in.
We obviously know that a Mrs Kathleen O’Reilly was arrested at Mrs Rawlins’s establishment but she was unaware of any of the outstanding charges levelled at Mrs O’Reilly and all the women resident at the manor are, as you must be aware, ex-prisoners. But as Mrs Rawlins was attempting to open a home to give these unfortunate women a chance to straighten out their lives, then it is only to be expected that residents would be, like herself, ex-prisoners. To my mind there has been a flagrant misuse of policing and the harassment could be levelled at your department. If it were to be made public in one or other of the papers, I’m sure it would make for popular reading, if a touch unpopular for the Metropolitan Police?’
Fuller hardly drew breath. His steely, quiet, authoritative voice hammered home his points and lastly he dropped in his ace, not as a threat but as a fact. ‘Also, it is possible that one of the men in your team, Detective Chief Inspector, has a private vendetta against Mrs Rawlins, totally without proof. And this also brings up the added insult that you have accused Mrs Rawlins of being associated with a James Donaldson who, I understand, recently died while in your custody.’
Craigh felt the rug being pulled from under him but he remained calm. His hands clenched into fists on the desk, and he said nothing, but gazed ahead at a small dot on the wallpaper.
‘So if you would please give the estimates your due care and attention, I would be most grateful if Mrs Rawlins could receive payment for the damage to her property as soo
n as possible.’
Fuller rose, gestured to Dolly to accompany him to the door. She shook Craigh’s hand but did not smile as Fuller waited for her to leave in front of him.
‘Thank you for your time, Detective Chief Inspector.’ Fuller closed the door after him. Craigh ground his teeth; it had been tough keeping his mouth shut. He would have liked to punch the bastard. His eyes glanced down at the detailed list of damage done to the manor during the two raids. He turned over the pages that listed deep freezers being turned off, banisters and rails damaged, the front door, the rear door. Then his jaw dropped as he read the total figure.
Ten thousand quid? Ten grand?’
Dolly was rigid as she waited for Kathleen to be brought into the visiting section. Coming back inside made her feel ill, the hair on the nape of her neck standing up as she kept her eyes down, refusing to look in the direction of any of the prison officers. All she wanted to do was to say what she had to say to Kathleen and get out.
Kathleen was led through the door from the prisoners’ section. She was wearing a green overall, her own shoes, and an Alice band that someone must have given her to keep her thick red hair back from her wide white face. She looked tired, defeated and bloated.
Dolly reached over and held her big raw hand. ‘Hello, Kathleen love.’
‘Well, I’m back. I knew it’d happen one day but you know I just hoped we’d make some cash so I could get me and the kids to Ireland. It was just a dream, really. I should have known I’d be picked up one day. I’m just sorry it was at your place.’
‘So am I, but I’ve got you books and there’s money between the pages. Give a few quid out to some of the girls, ones that knew me. Rest you use for whatever. I got George Fuller taking on your case, I’ll find the money to pay him.’
‘I never said nothing, you know, Dolly.’
‘I didn’t think you would. Kathleen.’
‘I’m no snitch.’
‘It was Angela. We found out she’d been knocked up by that young copper.’
‘The bastard.’
‘She’s no better. We’ve chucked her out on her ear.’
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