Vic Morgan clocked the number of the BMW, jotting it down with his left hand as he steered with his right. He wondered what was going on. First he’d followed Rawlins to Trudie Nunn’s flat, then to a convent, and now to an empty house in Totteridge. He kept his distance, making sure he wasn’t spotted, but Rawlins seemed in no hurry. He drove slowly all the way back to Elgin Mansions.
Morgan passed Rawlins as he parked his Jaguar, driving two hundred yards further before he stopped. He got out of the car, keeping his back toward Rawlins, but still able to watch him in the wing mirror. He saw Rawlins enter the mansion block, and gave it a few moments before hurrying after him and pushing open the double doors. The old stone staircase was reasonably clean, but the place had a run-down feel to it. He could hear Rawlins’ footsteps above him as he followed him up the stairs, trying to stay at least one floor below. Eventually he spotted him through the banister railings, letting himself in to one of the flats, then shutting the door behind him.
Morgan jogged up the stairs to the flat, number 44. The name on the doorbell was ‘A. D. Judd’.
Now he had the name and address, Morgan decided he’d done enough work for the day. The question was, how much of this was he going to tell Mrs. Marsh?
The following day, in Morgan’s office, Dolly was twisting the strap of her handbag round and round her hand anxiously.
‘So he’s living at Elgin Mansions, then?’
Morgan shrugged and repeated what he’d seen.
‘I can have the bloke in the BMW checked out. A friend of mine at the Yard, he can—’
Dolly stood up. ‘That won’t be necessary. I know who that was — my... er... sister’s husband’s lawyer.’ She seemed very nervous. She opened her bag and handed him yet another brown envelope. ‘That’s what I owe you to date, plus a bonus. Thank you for everything.’
Morgan held the brown envelope between his fingers. ‘I’m off the job now, am I?’
Dolly was suddenly desperate to get out. ‘Yes, I think you’ve done everything that... Well... I now know where my sister’s husband is, so thank you very much.’
She put out her hand. He could see it was trembling, and there were also red marks from the handbag strap. He shook her hand.
‘Oh, there is just one thing, Mr. Morgan — the photograph.’
Morgan leaned back in his chair. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Marsh, I’ve left it in the car. I’m afraid it’s at the garage. If you like—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I’ll, er, call in for it sometime. Thanks again for everything.’
Morgan waited until she was gone, lifted a copy of the Guardian off the desk and stared down at the face of Harry Rawlins. He picked up the photograph, opened his wallet and put it inside.
The bedroom at 44 Elgin Mansions was as seedy as the rest of the apartment. The threadbare curtains were drawn, a couple of hooks hanging loose. No lights.
Harry lay face down on the bed. His coat and crumpled jacket were in a heap on the floor where he’d thrown them. The little teddy bear was peeking out of one of the jacket pockets.
His head buried in the pillow, Harry murmured over and over to himself, ‘Bitch, bitch, bitch...’ He turned over and punched the pillow viciously. His teeth were clenched as he said the word yet again. ‘Bitch.’ And then he lay, stretched across the bed, arms spread wide, and found tears were streaming down his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, and he didn’t want to be doing it now. He tried to stop, but the tears just kept on coming, and eventually he gave in and let the wave of sadness wash over him.
The women were all sitting in Shirley’s lounge, watching her thumb through the phone directory.
‘Here it is, A. D. Judd, 44 Elgin...’
Bella leaned back against the sofa and sniffed, looking at the three of them all staring at the phone book as if it was the Holy Grail.
‘So now what? We know where he is, an’ that he’s got a phone, so what’s the next move? Phone him up for a chat?’
Shirley stubbed out her cigarette, took another one out of the packet and offered it to Dolly.
Dolly’s eyes were already smarting from all the smoke. ‘No, thanks.’
Shirley shrugged and lit up, then blew out a thin stream of smoke, looking thoughtful.
‘We could hire a hitman, have him bumped off,’ Linda suggested.
Bella kicked her and told her to shut up. ‘Why don’t we hire Batman and Robin while we’re at it?’
Linda pouted. ‘It’s not such a stupid idea. I even know someone who’d do it for a grand.’
Dolly massaged her temples. Her head was throbbing, and the arguing was only making it worse.
Shirley took another deep drag of her cigarette. For a non-smoker she was certainly making up for lost time. She blew the smoke out and Dolly wafted it away.
‘Dolly, what if we told the police where he was? D’you think they’d come after us? Dolly?’
Dolly didn’t bother to reply. Sometimes she felt as if she was back at the convent with the kids.
Shirley nudged her.
‘Yes,’ Dolly said, sounding as if she was lecturing a bunch of ten-year-olds. ‘If we tell the police where he is and they pick him up, then he’s going to tell them he had nothing to do with the raid, and even if they don’t believe him, they’re going to have to follow through and pull us in.’
Bella stood up, hands on hips. She hated the way Dolly talked down to them.
‘OK, so what do we do?’
Linda looked at Dolly. ‘Why can’t we just pay him off, get him to leave us alone?’
Dolly gave Linda a look, as if that was too stupid for comment.
‘Hold on, why not?’ Bella said. ‘Unless you’ve got a better idea.’
‘It’s got to be worth thinking about,’ Shirley agreed.
Bella leaned over Dolly. ‘What if we each chip in fifteen grand? That would give Harry sixty thousand. He might go for that.’
Dolly looked at their expectant faces, not believing what she was hearing.
‘You wanna know what he’ll say?’ she said angrily, almost spitting the words out. ‘Sixty grand? Out of seven hundred and fifty? Oh, yes, please!’
Bella’s temper was heating up. She jabbed a finger at Dolly, almost poking her. ‘Give us a bit more credit, can’t you? We wouldn’t just fuckin’ hand it over. As soon as he’s got the cash in his hot little hands, we’d tip off the law. They pick up a supposedly dead man, with sixty grand’s worth of stolen money from the underpass raid—’
‘You think they’d believe he wasn’t in on it himself?’ Shirley chipped in. ‘It would work, Dolly. We could get him put away and out of our hair.’
Dolly felt the pain shooting across her eyes. It was all she could do not to start screaming at them. She clenched her fists and looked each one in the eye.
‘You wanna make a deal with Harry, then you go right ahead. But count me out, you understand? I warn you, he’ll come after you, each one of you — he’ll never let you go.’ Dolly walked stiffly to the door and yanked it open. She was icy calm now, her voice clear and strong. ‘Don’t play games with Harry, I warn you. If you do, you’ll lose.’
The girls braced themselves for the slam of the door, but Dolly closed it quietly. They heard her walking into Shirley’s kitchen. Then the bang came, as she slammed the kitchen door almost off its hinges.
Micky Tesco had so many boxes and packages, he almost dropped the lot as he fiddled with the key to Harry’s flat. Inside, he dumped them on the sofa, before pushing open the door to the kitchen.