‘You deal with her,’ Shirley snapped at Linda. ‘You’re in for it now.’
Linda put her head in her hands, willing her headache to go away.
Dolly raced into the lock-up, popping Wolf on the floor as she ran toward Linda. ‘What’s the matter?’ Dolly asked, concerned ‘You all right? What’s happened?’ When Linda lifted her head and Dolly smelt the booze, her concern turned to anger. ‘You’re pissed!’ Dolly seethed. ‘Did you call an emergency meeting, Linda, cos you ran out of vodka?’
Shirley watched from the doorway of the kitchen and office annex. She’d never seen Dolly look so disheveled. She wore no make-up, her hair needed washing, and she looked exhausted; her face drawn, haggard almost. For the first time ever, Shirley thought Dolly looked her age, older even than her own mum. Then again, thought Shirley, she is old enough to be my mum.
‘I’m not pissed. I have had a couple, sure, but I’m not pissed.’
Linda was certainly pissed enough to be oblivious to Dolly’s simmering rage. From where Shirley stood, she could see the veins standing up in Dolly’s neck. Before anyone could speak again, Bella stepped out from behind Shirley.
Bella was a tall, impressive, commanding figure, but Dolly didn’t flinch at any of that. Bella smiled and walked toward Dolly, hand outstretched. Shirley had seen Dolly when she had had a go at Linda earlier that day, but she was different now — earlier, when she slapped Linda, it was like a parent slapping a child. Now, Dolly looked even tougher and there was something almost mannish about her, as though this situation demanded something extra. When she eventually spoke, it was a growl. She flicked a look to Bella and back to Linda.
‘Who the hell is she?’
Linda, empowered by the booze, introduced them. ‘This is Bella,’ she said.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Dolly was desperately trying to maintain control.
‘She wants in. You said we needed somebody else, so I told her and she—’
‘Told her? Told her what exactly?’
Stumbling to her feet, Linda continued, ‘Everything. I told her everything when she came into the arcade. Look at her, Dolly, she’s perfect.’
Dolly cut Linda off. ‘You in on this?’ she bellowed at Shirley, who was still standing in the doorway.
‘I was in bed when she called. Don’t bring me into this, I’m as shocked as you are.’
‘Shut up, Miss Goody Two Shoes, and let me finish!’ Linda shouted at Shirley.
‘Oh, you’re finished all right, Linda.’ Dolly had her hand on her hip and was waggling her finger in Linda’s face, trying desperately to resist slapping her again. ‘You can get your gear and you can get out! And you can take that black tart with you!’
‘Just let me explain.’
‘Explain?! Explain how you went and told the whole world about what we’re up to? How many more slags you got coming down here? I want you out!!’ Dolly grabbed Linda and started to push her toward the door but, this time, fueled by the booze, Linda fought back.
‘You’ve talked to me like shit once too often, Dolly! You treat your dog better than you do me!’ As the tears came, Linda reached the point of no return and she screamed in Dolly’s face. ‘I bring the answer to all our problems and you throw it in my face, you stuck-up bitch.’
From nowhere, Bella pulled Linda away from Dolly and slapped her, hard. In the following silence, Dolly and Bella stood nose to nose getting the measure of each other. Then Bella spoke for the first time.
‘You two want to have a cat fight, go ahead, only don’t do it over me.’ Bella’s deep voice was calm and controlled, her eyes blazed with a silent warning. ‘Look, Mrs. Rawlins, anything she told me, I just forgot. It’s no skin off my back. Thanks for the coffee.’ Bella collected her handbag and started to walk toward the door.
Linda looked at Dolly.
‘Just a minute.’ Dolly’s words made Bella stop and turn.
‘You talking to me, Mrs. Rawlins?’ Bella’s confidence shone as she stared at Dolly. ‘Cos I got a name and it’s not “tart” or “slag.” My name’s Bella. And I didn’t come pushing my way in here, I was asked. These two might think your idea’s crazy, but I don’t. I know what you want to do and I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think I could be part of it.’ Dolly listened intently, without breaking Bella’s stare. ‘How many girls out there do you think could do this? Better still, how many do you think would want to?’ When there was still no word from Dolly, Bella continued toward the door. ‘You can stuff your job,’ she said.
‘Stop. How much has she told you?’ Dolly asked.
‘Nothing.’ Bella’s tone was sarcastic now that she’d made her point. ‘I’ve got a really bad memory. If you want to come with me, Linda, I’ll walk you home.’
Linda stood between Dolly and Bella, like a small child between feuding parents. ‘Please, Dolly. I only did it for the best. I’m really sorry. You can’t call it off, Dolly, not cos of me. Please don’t let her go, Dolly, she’s right, I know she is.’
‘You opened your big mouth to anyone else, Linda?’
Linda shook her head. ‘No. I swear I haven’t.’
‘What do you think, Shirley?’ Dolly asked.
Shirley was surprised to be asked her opinion. She didn’t know Bella and she was upset that Linda had gone behind their backs, but she still trusted her. ‘She looks the part,’ Shirley replied after a moment. ‘And now that she knows everything, she might as well stay.’
‘You married?’ Dolly asked Bella.
Bella walked back toward Dolly, Linda and Shirley. ‘I got no ties, Mrs. Rawlins. I just do the clubs and anything else I can pick up.’
‘She tell you we’d be using guns?’
‘Yes.’
‘You drive?’
‘Yes.’ Once again, Dolly and Bella stared at each other, but this time it wasn’t like two Alpha females vying for position. Now there was respect in their eyes. It was Bella who finally lightened the atmosphere.
‘And I play a mean tune on a harmonica.’
Dolly had to suppress a smile. Bella was a strong, powerful woman who took no shit from anyone, but she was also smart and would be a great asset to the team.
Linda and Shirley held each other as they waited for Dolly’s decision.
‘All right, Bella,’ Dolly said finally. ‘...and the name’s Dolly.’
Chapter 12
Forensics were able to tell DI Resnick that the rear bumper of the bread van had been modified with a heavy metal bar strong enough to ram backward into the security wagon, and that there were still traces of the security wagon’s body paint on it. This was definitely the bread van used in the botched robbery.
There had been five days of intensive police work at Sunshine Bread, during which every man and woman in the company had their prints taken and compared to those found in the bread van. It was a long, tedious procedure, but Resnick was determined.
So far, no prints taken had revealed anyone with a criminal record, and all the prints in the van belonged to company employees. But someone had to have given Rawlins the keys to the site and to the van. Someone was crooked. During the week of the robbery, the fleet manager had been told that this van was in the workshop being repaired, so Resnick started with the two mechanics. Both denied any involvement, of course, and neither claimed to recognize the photos of Harry Rawlins, Terry Miller or Joe Pirelli. One of them, Resnick insisted, had to be a liar.
‘You can see it in their eyes, Fuller, and in their body language. He’ll not be a criminal mastermind, he’ll be a hard-up, scared little man who was slipped a couple hundred and will have been shitting himself since the robbery went tits up.’