‘Don’t bother with a ticket. I hope someone does nick it; the only way I’m gonna get myself togged out in somethin’ new is with the insurance money.’
Colin gave a sigh of resignation and followed his wife into the club, leaving Arnie holding what looked like a dead cat in his arms.
Taxis pulled up, dropped their passengers off and moved on. The club was filling up. Micky Tesco guided Shirley in by her elbow, a little too tightly for her liking. He seemed in a hurry to get into the club. Shirley stopped and pulled her arm away.
He looked at her. ‘What’s the matter now?’
‘No need to push me. I’ve got high heels on.’
‘Sorry. Big night, you know? Getting a bit edgy.’
They entered the club and joined a sea of people waiting at the coat check, men queuing one way, ladies the other. They pushed through into the main area, where waiters were waltzing round with trays of drinks and titbits while partygoers chatted animatedly. They were still trying to get their bearings when Micky was grabbed by an agitated-looking Arnie. Micky pushed Shirley gently in the direction of the ladies’ cloakroom, then turned back to Arnie.
‘Murphy’s not bleedin’ shown — I got no one at the door...’
Micky nodded, patted Arnie’s sleeve and said he’d take care of it. He was looking round at the faces; some he knew, but a lot he didn’t. He smiled greetings at everyone all the same.
‘Where’s the guv’nor?’
Arnie nodded to the stairs, then bustled back to the main entrance as yet more people entered. The club was becoming packed and there was a traffic jam building up round the cloakrooms.
One person who didn’t want to be relieved of her coat was Audrey. The mink coat Dolly had given her was not only luxurious, it also hid her pregnancy. Audrey had thought about flogging it on more than one occasion, but something always held her back, and now she was enjoying it in all its glory. In fact, Audrey felt wonderful, happier than she could remember, and it wasn’t just the coat. Ray was getting embarrassed, and was trying to shush her as she shouted and waved at old familiar faces, people she hadn’t seen for years. She spotted Muriel Soal over by the ladies’ room and yelled over.
Ray gave her a look. ‘Keep it down, can’t you? You’re making a spectacle of yourself, girl.’
Audrey seemed not to hear him. She waved at Muriel and Muriel gave her a little wave back. Muriel gave her husband a dig in the ribs, and Audrey saw her mouth the word ‘mink!’ several times.
Audrey smiled to herself. She was sweating under the coat, but she wasn’t going to take it off.
A nervous-looking Micky came up and pulled Ray aside.
‘Any word on where Murphy is?’
Ray shook his head. ‘Last time I spoke to him he was on his way home to get changed.’ They looked over at the door, where Arnie was doing his best to cope with the influx of guests while keeping an eye on everything that was going on.
Muriel made her way over to Audrey and they fell into each other’s arms, kissing each other’s cheeks daintily. Muriel surreptitiously felt Audrey’s coat. It definitely wasn’t fake. Audrey then let out another yell as Shirley came out of the cloakroom, earning another warning tap on the elbow from Ray.
Shirley pushed her way toward her mother, surprised by how pleased she was to see her. Micky seemed to have disappeared, so Audrey did the introductions.
‘Come on, Mum, you must be boiling with that coat on!’ Shirley exclaimed, helping her off with the mink. Muriel’s mouth gaped open when she saw Audrey’s bulging stomach.
‘Oh my God! You having a baby, Audrey?’
Audrey flushed, then roared with laughter. ‘I thought it was wind to begin with — until I realized it wasn’t going away with just a burp!’
Shirley looked round again for Micky, while Ray made his way toward the cloakrooms carrying Audrey’s coat.
‘You be careful with that, Ray!’ Audrey bellowed after him. ‘That’s ranch mink, that is.’
Muriel swallowed. God almighty, ranch mink! All she’d got was a bit of old moleskin her mother had left her.
‘Don’t you let any of the thieving so-and-sos in here swipe it!’ Audrey added for good measure.
Upstairs, Micky was standing to attention while Harry leaned back behind Arnie’s desk.
‘Right, Micky. You can start showing them up one at a time.’
‘I’ll try and make it quick,’ Micky joked. ‘The rate this crowd are knocking back the booze, we’ll have run out pretty soon.’
Harry gave him a thin smile. ‘And put in a call to Murphy while you’re at it. It’s unlike him to be late.’
Harry looked down the list of names again. There were a lot of old faces downstairs, enough to put a crack team together. He just had to let them know he was back, fighting fit, with cash in his wallet, and the promise of a big score.
The first man through the door was Geoffrey Barker: thin, cheap gray suit, crumpled tie — Barker had made no effort to dress for the occasion. But beneath the thin material of the suit you could tell that although Barker was well into his fifties, he still had the physique of a heavyweight boxer. Barker had been used by Harry on a number of gigs. He was a hammer man, a good front man; when he went in shouting and waving his hammer round, you didn’t want to mess with him. He was just what Harry needed.
Barker stared intently at Harry and walked over to the desk.
‘Have a drink, Geoffrey.’
‘All right. I’ll have a scotch.’
Barker sat down, watching Harry pour him a generous double from the tray of bottles and glasses on the desk, his face expressionless. Harry handed him the glass.
Barker looked Harry in the eye and said coldly, ‘To absent friends.’ Then he knocked back his scotch in one.
Harry was prepared for Barker’s attitude. He and Joe Pirelli had been like brothers. They’d even served time in the same cell. But he was confident he could talk him round. At the end of the day, money talks. And whatever happened... well, that was all in the past now.
Barker, however, didn’t give him a chance. He put the empty glass down, then turned and walked to the door without another word. Harry didn’t try to stop him.
Harry sat back in his chair, looked at his list and put a line through Barker’s name. He sighed. Maybe Colin Soal had been right: some people didn’t care how much money was on offer; they weren’t going to work for Harry Rawlins, not after what happened with the security van heist.
He poured himself a large vodka and took a sip. This could turn out to be a long night.
‘Receiving? Do me a favor, I run a legit business. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Sonny Chizzel then demanded the right to make a phone call, banging the desk, jabbing his finger at Fuller and telling him he’d have him for wrongful arrest.
Fuller just smiled, biding his time. He was actually quite enjoying seeing Sonny work himself up into a state. He looked up as Reynolds came in carrying a tray of tea.
‘Tell you what, Sonny,’ Fuller said pleasantly, ‘while we’re waiting for your brief, there’s something I’d like to show you. An antique. Perhaps you could give me a valuation?’
Sonny looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
‘Ah, here we are,’ Fuller said, nodding to the Chief, who’d just appeared at the door, cradling an object wrapped in newspaper. The Chief put the object down on the desk and carefully unwrapped the newspaper, revealing the ormolu clock.
Sonny squinted at it. ‘You want me to value this?’
‘Oh, I know how much it’s worth,’ Fuller said. ‘And so do you.’