Fuller sighed. The last thing he fancied was a trip up west to a smoke-filled nightclub.
‘Keep a low profile, just take a look round. Be interesting to see the faces at this so-called private party.’ Saunders beamed, patted Fuller’s arm and went back to Sonny Chizzel.
Fuller beckoned Reynolds over. ‘Keep a low bleeding profile? What in Christ’s name does he think we’d do, swing on the chandeliers?’
Dolly hovered at the entrance to Harry’s lock-up, peeking from behind the door. The street was deserted, the rest of the lock-ups silent. Dolly closed the door and made her way to join Bella in the annex. She was going over the plans, making notes in Dolly’s black book. She looked up as Dolly joined her.
‘OK, now we know for sure how he’s gonna do it.’
‘Come on then, let’s get out of here.’ Dolly swore this would be the last time just the two of them came; it had to be three so they had a proper look-out and early warning if anyone was on their way.
Bella folded the plans just as they had found them and put them back into the filing cabinet.
‘Tell you one thing, Dolly: I wouldn’t want to try it.’
‘Good thing you’re not, then, isn’t it?’ Dolly replied.
Bella turned with a slight smile. She spoke almost in a whisper. ‘No, we’re not, are we?’
Harry hadn’t quite got over the finish line yet, but the list no longer had just crossed-out names. The team was slowly coming together. He yawned, stretched and rubbed his shoulders. He stood by the window, lifted the blinds and looked down to the street below. He stiffened as a patrol car pulled up and let the blind slip back into place.
Micky appeared at the door, muttering about Arnie drivin’ everyone nuts down in the club. Harry gestured for him to join him at the window.
‘Holy shit, it’s the law.’
Two men in plain clothes were entering the club.
‘That’s DI Fuller,’ Micky said. ‘What the bloody hell’s he doing here?’
Harry didn’t seem bothered. He thought for a moment.
‘Go down, treat him like a guest. Open a bottle of Arnie’s best champagne. Let everyone down there know that prick’s here by invitation.’
Harry began packing up his papers.
Micky stood, looking hesitant. ‘I don’t like it, Harry.’
Harry just laughed and shoved him out the door. ‘Tell him the champagne is with my compliments.’
All eyes were on Fuller and Reynolds as they threaded their way toward the bar. Fuller was enjoying himself, making a mental note of the faces as they turned away from him, suddenly looking intently into their drinks. The party seemed to be suspended for a moment — then groups gathered and the talk grew louder again.
A burly bruiser called Kevin White, who’d clearly had quite a few drinks, watched Fuller as he went past, spat on the floor and returned to telling his dirty joke — but with one eye still on the policeman. He had just agreed to go in on the job; last thing he was hoping to see was the Old Bill showing their faces.
Colin Soal looked for Muriel. With that cop here, the one who had been shoving his nose in everywhere, it was definitely time to go.
On the other side of the room, Muriel was deep in conversation with Audrey, discussing wallpaper for the baby’s room. Ray stood at the side of the table, looking bored — until he spotted Fuller and decided it was time to collect the mink and get out.
Shirley was still queuing for the ladies’. There had to be another one somewhere. As she turned to go into the main club, Micky went past her. She reached out to grab his arm, but he shrugged her off and pushed his way to the bar.
That was the last straw for Shirley; she was going. She’d see if Ray and Audrey could give her a lift, and then that was it: goodbye Micky. She wasn’t going to be treated like some pick-up for the night.
Micky slipped behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Bollinger just as Fuller and Reynolds arrived. He had a fixed smile on his face, keenly aware that everyone in the club was watching him.
‘Glad you could make it.’
The cork popped and a little of the champagne splashed Fuller’s sleeve. Micky leaned over the bar and started dabbing Fuller’s jacket with a dishcloth, all the while laughing and chatting as if they were the best of pals.
Colin Soal watched curiously. Maybe Rawlins had these cops in his pocket. It certainly looked like it. Micky was definitely very familiar with them. He saw him fill two glasses, smiling broadly. Then Fuller gave him a friendly pat on the arm.
In fact, Fuller was telling Micky to piss off and keep his champagne. He turned to Reynolds.
‘Who is this prick, anyway?’
‘Micky Tesco. Small-time crook,’ Reynolds replied, eyeing the champagne greedily.
Fuller was about to give Micky another mouthful, when an attractive blonde shouldered her way to the bar. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to the face, and again turned to Reynolds, who had a glass of champagne halfway to his lips.
‘The blonde, you know her?’
Reynolds shook his head and turned to face the room. God almighty, half of London’s underworld was here! Suddenly feeling acutely self-conscious, he put the champagne glass down and turned back to the bar.
Micky gave Shirley a scowl. ‘Not now. Can’t you see I’m busy?’
Shirley stepped back, as if slapped, and bumped into Fuller.
Seeing her up close as she turned to face him, Fuller remembered her. ‘It’s Shirley, isn’t it? Shirley Miller?’
Shirley didn’t answer, just gave him a tight smile before backing away. She turned and made her way quickly to Audrey’s table, where Ray was trying to help Audrey into her coat. Just as Shirley joined them, Audrey fell back into her chair with a hoot of laughter, almost too pissed to stand. Ray hauled her up onto her feet and started guiding her toward the exit.
‘Oi! A woman in my condition don’t need to be pushed about,’ Audrey protested. ‘I need to go to the toilet.’
Fuller noticed the mass move toward the exit with a smile. Funny how everyone in the place suddenly needed to be somewhere else.
‘Two beers,’ he said to the barman.
Micky was still doing his act, repeating loud enough for anyone to hear how glad he was that Detective Inspector Fuller had granted them a visit.
Fuller gave him an icy stare, then caught Arnie Fisher’s arm as he hurried past, pulling him to one side. Arnie was shaken; he’d been so busy making sure the booze didn’t run out, he hadn’t seen Fuller and Reynolds making their entrance.
What a night, he thought: the bastards had drunk him dry and now the Old Bill was hanging about. That was all he needed, especially Fuller: he’d had his fill with him trying to get his license revoked a couple of months back.
‘What’s the party in aid of, Arnie?’ Fuller pressed his face close.
Arnie swallowed. He looked at Micky, who was topping up the untouched champagne glasses.
‘You deaf, Arnie? Who’s throwing the bash?’
‘Oh... you know... just a... a private party — nothing special,’ he stammered.
Audrey, leaning heavily on Ray, had made it to the bottom of the stairs by the main entrance.
‘Ooh, I’m desperate, Ray!’ she moaned, slumping down onto the stairs. Shirley began moving up the stairs, looking for another ladies’.