The Shoplifting Mothers' Club (17 page)

‘Fuck that,’ Hailey said. ‘Someone told those cops we’d be there. And today, of all days, Chelsea develops a conscience about parking properly – at night! She parks on double-yellows all the time. Since when does she care where she parks?’

Jessica had to admit it was a good point. She tried to make her fellow ‘Clubbers’ see sense. ‘Look, this could have been really bad for us. Why don’t we walk away from stealing?’

Jessica thought that the blame shouldn’t lie with the head BIB. After all,
Jessica
knew the blonde had just parked her car in a nearby car lot. ‘Chelsea Jordan is a battered woman. We need to give her some slack.’

All three women stared at Jessica, and then, one by one, began to laugh.

Did they have no shame? Assault wasn’t amusing. Even Frieda, who, in Jessica’s estimation, was a cut above the rest, was giggling.

‘You actually think Chelsea is being worked over by that spindly little husband of hers?’ Rita was laughing so hard she choked.

‘I’ve seen it. Well, technically heard it through her front door, but still. There was definite violence.’ Jessica knew she sounded overly defensive but come on, surely they cared enough about Chelsea to not want her subjected to abuse?

Were they all totally bonkers?
‘Does what for money? Her husband is her husband. She doesn’t need to allow him to beat her so that she can pay for the groceries.’

‘Thousands?’ Jessica figured that explained why Chelsea was mucking about parking the car – probably arranging dates via Bluetooth and didn’t want to be overhead. ‘But if she makes that kind of money, why do the shoplifting thing?’

‘She’s actually the main breadwinner. The husband has depression and hardly works. She doesn’t want anyone to know. So she goes about with bruises and takes all the riskiest jobs at the Club, so that she can pay for all the trappings of wealth.’

‘That’s crazy.’

‘Doesn’t mean it’s not the truth,’ Rita said. ‘So, what do we do now? Go back and accuse Chelsea of snitching?’

The other two concurred, but Jessica had no idea what to suggest. Her phone was buzzing crazily; no doubt thanks to incoming texts from DCI Gerry Courtauld, asking what the hell had happened to the heist.

With the latest news of Chelsea’s sideline career in the oldest profession, Jessica’s head was spinning with the intrigue – and she’d never been one for it in the first place.

‘THIS HAD BETTER BE good.’ Gerry’s voice sounded echoed off the tiles and even with the running tap water, Jessica was certain Ronald would overhear. Jessica was huddled in the bathroom so that her husband didn’t happen to wake up and ask why she was talking to the police detective at midnight. Ronald assumed that still Jessica was helping the police with their enquiries, because Gerry had said to keep the diamond plan to herself.

‘No, a deal is a deal. And I suppose now that we have the names and addresses we will pick them up in time. Just won’t get them for anything big enough to make them stop their little scam – that’s my worry.’

Jessica was acutely aware that the intrigue had to stop, and there was a possible way to achieve that. ‘I might have something for you; I just have to think it through.’

That didn’t sound like work
. ‘Who was that?’ Jessica asked, walking into the bedroom. ‘I thought you were asleep.’

‘I was, just someone from the office.’

‘At this hour?’

‘It’s morning somewhere else in the world, you know. That’s the deal with immigration law – things can happen any time of the day or night.’ He turned over. ‘Turn off the light, will you? I need some sleep.’

Glaring at his narrow back and balding, greying head, Jessica punched at the switch and then, grabbing her dressing gown, went to sleep on the sofa.

Frieda was surprised to see her at the gym. She’d tried encouraging Jessica to accompany her – guests were free – but Jessica associated the gym with women like the BIBs and steered clear.

‘I need to talk to you, it’s urgent.’

Getting off the state-of-the-art treadmill she was unenthusiastically using, Frieda grabbed her towel and followed Jessica to the small café set up between two dance studios.

‘What’s happened?’

‘A lot. Listen, you have to promise not to repeat anything you are about to hear, because I could get into big trouble.’

Frieda looked scared.
So she should.
‘Yes, of course. You can trust me.’

‘The cops are on to the Club.’

Now the Norwegian looked petrified. ‘What? How?’

‘They arrested me, and said I would go to jail if I didn’t give them details of the other people who had worn that stupid ‘Lady Muck’ disguise.’

‘You broke the code?’ The words were barely audible.

‘I had no choice. They had CCTV of me, and Rita and Hailey wearing the stupid suit.’

‘So if they know, why did you go along with the diamond theft?’ Frieda’s watery blue eyes stared at Jessica, and after a few moments, she understood. ‘It was a set up?’

‘Yes. If I told you about it, then they would just arrest me. I had no choice.’

Frieda shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t think Chelsea and the others will see it that way.’

‘Look, I might be able to do a deal, and save you if I shop Chelsea for the prostitution. After all, it’s not safe for Sienna, being in that environment.’

‘And where do you think the little girl will end up if Chelsea goes to prison? The husband is a mess – he can’t look after her.’

‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. What if you took her in?’

Appalled, Frieda’s hand was shaking no before the words were out. ‘That child bullies my Annika mercilessly. You think I want her in my home?’

‘I think she made Rachel jump off that roof – so I fully understand your concerns, but think of it this way, you wanted another child, and you might be able to make a difference to her life. You might even be able to save her from becoming her mother.’

‘I don’t know . . .’

‘Look, Frieda, if I don’t come up with something, the police will arrest all of you. That can’t be good for Annika, or the other kids. Rita and Hailey might be foul, but it’s Chelsea who is the ringleader. The Club is run by her, in her home. If she is stopped, you all are. That’s the deal I can offer the police. But I can’t do it knowing that Sienna Jordan will be shipped off to some children’s home. I’d take her in myself, but Ronald would never agree.’

Besides, Jessica’s marriage was too unstable to introduce a damaged child to the mix.

‘And there is no other way?’ The black fear was still lurking behind the pale blue eyes.

‘Trust me, the cops spent a lot on that diamond operation. They don’t know I encouraged you all to run. Now, they need an arrest to justify their time. Why should it be me, or you?’

‘Fine, I’ll offer to take Sienna, but you’ve got to share some of the burden. Lots of play dates.’ Frieda met Jessica’s eyes. ‘Loads and loads of them.’

‘You’re doing the right thing,’ Jessica said, standing up. ‘Just don’t say anything to anyone for now. It might take a while for the arrest to happen.’

‘Who would I talk to about this? If I tell Rita or Chelsea that you betrayed us, they will mow you down in their Range Rovers.’

If it wasn’t for the money Jessica had just received, she might had told Frieda that she would welcome the violence as a way of dealing with the pain in her life.

As it was, she just smiled and said that everything would be okay. ‘We just have to hold our nerve. Now, do you know how Chelsea touts for her, um, other business . . . ?’

SHE WAS DUE TO meet the detective later, but Jessica decided that having sorted things in her mind, it was time to do a little house-cleaning. Ronald was right – the place was a total pigsty.

Beginning with the clean washing that was piled, almost roof height, in the utility room, she quickly folded it into neat stacks for each respective member of the family and put the clothes away. She came to Ronald’s pile, and feeling altruistic thanks to the money from her mother and Frieda’s agreement to the plan, she decided to put it away, instead of just leaving it on his side of the bed. Ronald was anal about his cupboards – hated her touching them – but he’d surely appreciate his clothing being placed back where it belonged.

Opening the top drawer on his side of the wardrobe, she drew a sharp intake of breath.

What the hell . . .

They were empty.

She called Ronald at work, and got one of the younger lawyers, a lovely boy called Hussein. ‘Is he in?’

‘Sorry, Mrs Maroni, he’s in court. Is there a message?’

What message could she leave?
Ask him what happened to his clothes?
She’d done a quick reconnaissance of his belongings and more than two-thirds were missing. But what did she actually know? He might be selling them on eBay to pay for, well, God knows what. She had told Hussein not to worry, just to tell Ronald she’d called.

The DCI placed a huge mug in front of her, a child raced by and slammed into the chair next to him, causing him to spill the drink onto her lap.

‘Shit, sorry about that. I wish my powers of arrest extended to toddlers.’

‘Well, you do take me to the classiest places.’

‘It’s a shame you’re married,’ Gerry said, plying her with napkins. ‘I’ve got a great place for a first date that I am longing to try – better than a coffee shop riddled with babies.’

Jessica laughed, while wishing it was more than a joke; that a man might find her attractive. ‘Sorry, but I am taken by an emotional retard who acts like a complete prat nearly one hundred per cent of the time.’

Her mind shot to the discovery of earlier –
where were his clothes?
It didn’t make sense, but Jessica didn’t have time to dwell on the whys of Ronald’s behaviour right then. And given she was sitting next to a really, really cute policeman, why should she?

‘Damn, can’t compete with that, can I?’ He slapped his head in mock annoyance.

‘No one can,’ she told him. ‘No one can.’

But he pulled his eyes away from hers after a longer-than-expected time – and Jessica wondered whether or not there might be something there.

No, that was just a hopeful, neurotic daydream.
There can’t be anything there – remember Ronald?

‘So, since you’re rejecting me, let’s talk business instead,’ Detective Gerry said. ‘You said you had a suggestion for me?’

‘I can give you the ringleader Chelsea Jordan, on the condition you leave the rest of them alone.’ He made to open his mouth in protest but she indicated he should wait. ‘She’s up to more than that shoplifting gig, and there is a minor involved. If you get her, the whole operation shuts down – she controls the internet site.’

‘But I need to catch her in the act – link the internet payment to the stolen goods. Otherwise I’ve got reason to go into her house to search it.’

‘You’ve got my say so.’

‘Not enough, I’m afraid. And Chelsea is the only one who we don’t have on CCTV. She’s clever, in spite of that hair and those heels.’