She's Out (32 page)

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 soon 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.’

Kathleen flicked through the pages of the paperback novel, looking at the neatly folded fifty-quid notes. She suddenly looked at Dolly; her eyes seemed dead. ‘I could have said something,
though. I could have said about the diamonds, even the guns, but I didn’t.’

Dolly waited, knowing she was going to be hit. It just surprised her that Kathleen would try it on, even after she’d hired her a bloody lawyer.

‘I’ll get at least five this time,’ Kathleen said without expression. Dolly made no reply, waiting as Kathleen fingered the paperback. ‘I want my kids taken care of,
Dolly. Sheena, Kate and Mary. They’re in a convent but they’ll be split up soon, I know it. Not many places can take three kids, three sisters, they’ll split them up, so . . .
’

Dolly looked at her, hard. ‘So what, Kathleen?’

‘You take them, Dolly. I’ve written to the convent, made you their legal guardian. You just got to sign the papers. I want you to look after them until I get out.’

‘I can’t do that,’ hissed Dolly.

‘Yes, you can. You wanted kids in that place – well, now I’m giving you mine. You take them, Dolly, please. Please don’t make me talk to the coppers about you, take my
kids.’ Kathleen bowed her head, as big tears slid down her flat cheeks. ‘I was a lousy mother but I’d turn grass for them. I would, Dolly. They’re all I’ve got
that’s decent. Please, take them, keep them together for me.’

Dolly gripped Kathleen’s hand tight.

Just after Dolly had left the manor, Gloria marched up the stairs and banged on Angela’s bedroom door. ‘Oi, what you doin’ in there? We want you out. Come on.
Angela?’ She tried the door. It was locked but the key was not on the outside.

‘Angela?’ She banged on the door, turned the handle and pressed it hard, but it was securely locked from the inside.

Gloria darted out to the stables and picked up a hammer. Connie appeared.

‘That Angela has locked herself in so I’m gonna break down the door and drag her out by the scruff of her neck.’

She went back upstairs and hit the door hard, then the door handle, and Connie pushed. It eventually gave way and they stumbled into the little box room. Angela was lying on the floor by the
bed, face down. Beside her was a bottle of bleach. When the two panic-stricken women turned her over her face was blue, her mouth burned, but she was alive.

Julia was walking up the driveway and looked up to the top window as she heard Gloria scream at her out of the window to hurry. She jumped up the stairs three at a time and burst into the
bedroom. Connie had Angela on the bed but stood helplessly to one side.

Gloria hovered. ‘She’s drunk bleach, Julia. I dunno how much but look at her mouth!’

Julia barked orders, to call an ambulance, get jugs of water, and drew Angela into a sitting position, feeling inside her mouth as Gloria and Connie hurried out, glad to be told what to do.