In the lounge, Boxer was assessing the situation.
‘What shall I do first?’ he asked. Housework, especially after a ransacking, wasn’t something he was going to take to easily.
‘Right,’ said Dolly. ‘Throw anything that’s broken beyond repair, but bag the sofa cushions and curtains; they can be fixed. And, once you can see the carpet, the vacuum’s in the cupboard under the stairs.’
‘Right you are, Dolly.’ Boxer beamed. With idiot-proof instructions, he was far happier. ‘We’ll have this place spick and span in no time.’
Dolly watched Boxer as he bagged her last few broken Capodimonte figures. The damage wasn’t as bad as she had originally thought, and it was mostly downstairs. Once everything was cleared, her sofa was probably reparable and she’d no doubt be able to scrub the carpet clean from the mud and grass stains that had been trampled in from her back garden. It was the intrusion that hurt her the most. The police, the Fishers, they each seemed to think that they could treat her with such disdain and get away with it.
Upstairs, the beds were stripped and the third wash load was already on. As she began to collect the strewn clothes from the floor, Boxer appeared in the doorway.
‘Found anything?’ he asked, his usual big stupid grin on his face. He was acting like her best friend, as if nothing had happened, as if he wasn’t responsible for all of this mess in the first place.
‘Let me salvage what I can first, eh, Boxer? I can’t see the forest for the trees right now.’
‘Sorry, Dolly.’
‘As we get things tidied, we’ll search every nook and cranny — don’t you worry.’ She gave him a reassuring smile and Boxer lumbered back downstairs. Her smile disappeared as soon as Boxer was gone. Dolly knew he’d be useless at the tidying and cleaning, but she also knew that she needed to keep him sweet. She had a plan and Boxer would be a big part of it.
Linda was down at the yard well before the auction had even started. Flicking through the brochure, she paced along the rows of cars for sale, inspecting one after the other, unsure what she was looking for. She knew bits and bobs about cars: what a good engine looked and sounded like, what safety checks to do on a new buy, and how to hotwire one. Joe had taught her a thing or two about what goes on under the bonnet of a car — and on the back seat.
Eventually she decided she liked a used red Ford Capri and she began chatting up the dealer. He was very helpful and obviously thought she was a sexy little thing and definitely up for it, giggling at his bad jokes and letting him put his arm around her. He agreed to take a look at the engine for her; Linda rubbed her body against him and smiled. She was so busy getting the lowdown on the Capri, she failed to notice Arnie Fisher arrive in a silver Jag.
Arnie, carrying a leather briefcase, bustled his way through the maze of cars toward the auction room. He stopped when he saw Carlos leaning on the bonnet of a Rolls-Royce he was there to bid on. Arnie straightened his silk tie. ‘A real nice looker,’ he whispered and winked.
Carlos liked it when Arnie was obvious with his affections; it made him feel special, and a man like Arnie didn’t consider many people in his life to be special at all.
Carlos was wearing a nice suit. The boy’s learning fast, thought Arnie, assessing him with his ice-blue eyes. Arnie didn’t go for rough trade; he liked his boys neat, tidy and with a bit of class — although Carlos had a bit of the animal in him as well. He noted that perhaps Carlos had on too many gold necklaces. He’d speak to him about that later, when they were alone.
Carlos started enthusing about the low-mileage Roller, one of the best he’d seen. All it needed was the odd touch-up and an engine tune to make it perfect. Carlos lifted the bonnet and leaned into the engine. Arnie hadn’t the foggiest about engines, but he followed suit, so he could press his body against Carlos. He noted that Carlos had made an effort to clean his nails; yes, the boy was going to go places. He was getting very fond of him.
Arnie handed over the briefcase and patted Carlos on the cheek. ‘There’s enough in there to buy the Roller.’
‘How high do you want me to go?’
‘It’s all sorted, Carlos, darlin’. It’ll not go higher than the reserve price. They know I want it. There won’t be no other bidders.’
Arnie was right: the auction on the Roller was done and dusted in a flash. Carlos bid, bought, paid in cash, and they were on their way for a slap-up lunch in less than thirty minutes.
Linda, with the aid of the over-amorous dealer, got a good price on the Capri. As she counted out the cash, he moved in with a sleazy grin. His arm slipped beneath Linda’s coat. She gave him an icy glare.
‘Piss off or I’ll start screaming,’ she hissed.
He got the message loud and clear. As she walked away with the keys to her new car, she heard him muttering: ‘Soddin’ bitch!’
Shirley’s brother, Greg, was adamant that everything was legit and he hadn’t nicked the car he’d got for her, but she still wasn’t sure, even though it was a good price and she liked it. Audrey, on her fifth cup of tea, chipped in that Greg must have nicked it cos according to Exchange and Mart the motor was worth twice what he’d paid for it. Greg and Audrey were going at it hammer and tongs when Shirley dropped a bundle of cash on the kitchen table. They both fell instantly silent. Audrey gasped, missed her mouth with the cup and dribbled tea down her chin. Greg grabbed for the wad of notes, but Shirley got there first, peeling off the 750 quid she owed him. Handing over the keys and log book, he legged it before anyone could have another go at him.
Shirley she knew exactly what her mum was thinking. ‘The money was in a suitcase belonging to Terry,’ Shirley lied. ‘Or do you think I can make a grand on the game in less than a week?’
‘A grand?’ Audrey screeched. Shirley wasn’t a natural liar. ‘In a suitcase? The coppers missed it, did they?’
Shirley held her ground. ‘Yes! It was hidden in the seam of the case and they was too busy flirting with me to notice.’
‘And when exactly did you find this grand? And why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It’s nothing to do with you, Mum!’ Shirley snapped.
‘We’re all hard up, my girl! That washing machine you gave me didn’t walk round to mine on its own you know. I had to hire a van. They don’t cost peanuts! I’d like to have known is all I’m saying. I’m your mum after all.’
Shirley pulled fifty quid from the bundle of notes and handed it to Audrey. ‘I’m sorry my washing machine cost you money, mum, I really am,’ she said sarcastically.
If Audrey had been a better person, she’d have walked away leaving Shirley embarrassed at thinking her mum could be so easily bought. But instead, she took the fifty quid.
‘Let’s take your new car for a spin to the pub,’ she suggested. ‘Your round, Shirley.’
The little Mini Estate wouldn’t start the first time, or the second, but eventually it fired up on the third, then spluttered and kangarooed down the road. Shirley said the brakes seemed a bit stiff, and then swore as the windscreen wiper fell off.
‘Greg had better fix it, or else,’ she said furiously.
‘It might be your drivin’, love.’ Audrey remarked.
‘Terry taught me how to drive and I passed me test first time.’ Shirley replied heatedly.
After a run round the block, Shirley decided the car wasn’t so bad after all. She dropped her mum off at the pub and said she was taking it for a longer test drive. She’d agreed to buy it because there was plenty of space in the rear to stash all the gear needed for the robbery and the inconspicuous color wouldn’t stand out in the traffic afterward. She’d have picked a canary yellow car if the choice had been hers — but she could do that easily enough with her third of a million. Shirley laughed at herself — fancy buying a car for its robbery qualities!