Widows

‘Take this and get the first flight out of here, to Spain. Stay there until you hear from me. This time, Tony, you obey me or I swear to God you’ll get the same treatment as Boxer Davis.’

Tony smirked and reached for the money, tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat. ‘You’re the boss,’ he said.

Arnie replied softly. ‘You’d better believe it, because I’m protecting you. Until I say so, don’t show your face here again. I’ll make sure the boys in Spain look after you.’

In the past, Tony had always been able to argue with his brother, but he had never seen Arnie so determined. He could almost smell his fear. ‘I’ll leave tonight,’ he said.

‘Good boy.’ Arnie watched his brother walk out. He hoped this time he would listen, because as soon as he’d seen to some things, he’d be joining him in Spain. Arnie picked up the newspaper and stared at the headlines. With Harry Rawlins dead, Arnie had been free of him and his infamous ledgers. If Harry Rawlins was alive — well, Arnie felt as though he had been given a life sentence.

Dolly sat in the interview room at Scotland Yard waiting for Fuller. She’d already looked through the pile of mug shots on the table and been asked if she recognized any of them as associates of her deceased husband. Even if she had, there was no way she was going to say anything. It might have got the police off her back, but she didn’t want word getting out she was a grass. Dolly looked at her watch: it was eleven thirty. She tapped her foot, hoping to irritate the policewoman standing by the door. She hated her expressionless face and hatchet eyes.

‘Is there any chance of a cup of coffee?’ Dolly asked. There was no response. The policewoman sucked her teeth. ‘Listen, Uri Gellar — you keep staring like that and your handcuffs will start bending!’ Dolly said sarcastically. Still the officer didn’t flinch.

Dolly lit another cigarette and looked at her watch again. ‘It’s my dog, you see. He’ll be going nuts by now and he can only keep his legs crossed for so long. So can I, as it happens. Oi! I’m talking to you! Any idea how long they’re going to keep me here? I mean, what’s this all about anyway?’ Dolly waved her cigarette around as she pointed at the mug shots in front of her, scattering ash carelessly over the photos. ‘I told you I don’t know none of these. What’s he supposed to have done anyway, this colored bloke you’re after?’ Still no reaction. Dolly began to whistle the theme tune from Dixon of Dock Green.

DS Fuller walked in and sat down opposite her. The press was going bananas. They were demanding to know what the police were doing about the robbery, whether they had any suspects and whether it was connected to the recent similar robbery where three men died. Fuller hadn’t been able to get any sense out of DCI Saunders; he was like a rabbit caught in headlights. The whole office was in pandemonium.

Dolly sucked on her cigarette. ‘How long you gonna keep me here?’

Fuller looked at Dolly. ‘As long as it takes.’

The door opened again and DCI Saunders walked in. He called Fuller over and they had a whispered conversation by the door. Dolly thought she heard something about bringing in the security guards in case it was an inside job, but she couldn’t hear clearly.

‘Excuse me,’ Dolly said to DCI Saunders with feigned politeness. ‘I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I’ve looked through your mug shots and there’s no one I recognize or have seen before, so if you don’t mind, I’ve got a dog at home waiting for me.’

Saunders went over to Dolly. ‘Did your husband have any black associates, either as friends or on his payroll?’

Dolly paused as if was thinking about the question. ‘No, not that I know of.’

‘That’s all then, Mrs. Rawlins, you can go,’ Saunders said, much to Dolly’s surprise and Fuller’s annoyance. He turned to the policewoman. ‘Show Mrs. Rawlins out,’ he ordered.

As the policewoman opened the door, an officer led in the security guard who had been driving the van. He had small cuts to one side of his face. He passed within inches of Dolly, who stepped back, allowing him to enter the room.

After Dolly had gone, Fuller laid out the mug shots along the desk in front of the security guard. ‘Do you recognize any of these men as being involved in the raid this morning?’

The guard was shaking. All he could say was that he thought one of the men had been black because of the color of his eyes staring through the balaclava. Fuller sat down with a sigh and began going over everything again from start to finish, but he knew it was hopeless. The security guard was still in a state of shock — and all the suspects had been wearing masks.

Dolly returned to her house in a taxi, paid the fare and almost danced up the drive. She felt so good, so damned good. Opening the front door, she shouted for Shirley. She couldn’t wait to reassure her that they were in the clear.

‘I’m in the lounge,’ Shirley called out.