‘Seems to me,’ Fuller argued, exhausted by Resnick’s ‘gut instinct,’ ‘that all he’s got to do is keep his mouth shut, seeing as Rawlins and his gang are all dead and there’s no one left to drop him in it.’
‘There’s the fourth man, Fuller. The fourth man can drop everyone in it because he’s got the ledgers. No, it’s one of the mechanics and I’m going to find out which one.’
Donald Franks sat in front of Resnick, twisting the oily rag in his hands. He was certainly nervous about something. Resnick had left Franks to sweat for what he judged to be the optimum length of time and was just about to start his questioning when the phone rang.
‘What?’ Resnick shouted down the receiver, then his face quickly softened and his voice lowered. ‘All right Alice, thank you. Yes, I’ll be back by four. I will. Alice, I will.’ Resnick hung up. ‘Keep a close eye on the time, Fuller,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve got to get back to the station by four.’
Within minutes of starting the interview with Franks, Resnick discovered that he wasn’t nervous about being Rawlins’s inside man, but about slacking off work. He and the other mechanic would clock in together and then one of them would bugger off down the pub for the day. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, sir.’ Franks whimpered. ‘The jobs always get done. There’s just not enough work for two of us and we can’t afford to lose our jobs as well, you see.’
‘As well?’ Resnick’s eyes narrowed as he sensed an important lead coming his way.
‘There used to be three of us, sir. Len was sacked three months back. Me and Bob’re hanging on by the skin of our teeth. Please don’t tell anyone.’
‘Shut up,’ Resnick ordered. ‘I don’t give two hoots about you and Bob scamming your boss, but if you don’t tell me all about your mate Len, I’ll make damn sure your boss finds out everything.’
Franks told Resnick that Len Gulliver had been suspected of theft. Franks didn’t believe it for a second; he thought it must just be the quickest way to get rid of someone. On further questioning, Resnick discovered that each mechanic had his own set of yard keys cut in order to sneak off to the pub whenever work was light. So, if no one knew Gulliver had yard keys in the first place, it stood to reason that he could still have them now, meaning he could easily be the man who helped Rawlins steal the bread van. Resnick gave the orders to find and arrest Len Gulliver. For the first time in weeks, he actually thought they were getting somewhere. In fact, he was almost pleasant and put a tenner on Len Gulliver knowing the identity of the fourth man.
At Gulliver’s house, his wife said he wasn’t with her anymore, but her reluctance to let them in made Resnick think she was lying. She went on and on about the bread company treating her Len like a dog, worse than a dog in fact.
‘Fifteen years he worked for them and — just like that, finished, out. They made up some rubbish about him stealing, but you don’t slip someone two hundred quid to go quietly if you really think they been stealing from you, do you? Well, do you?’
Suspecting Len Gulliver had done a runner, and that she would protect him, Resnick thought it was pointless even asking where her husband was. He was about to leave when he decided to show Mrs. Gulliver the suspects’ photographs. Resnick was amazed when she said she recognized Joe Pirelli.
‘Yes, he’s been here,’ she said innocently. ‘He had some business with my husband. And this one—’ she pointed to the photo of Rawlins — ‘waited outside for him. I could see him from the kitchen window in a dark gray Mercedes-Benz.’
Resnick felt his insides churn. It looked like Mrs. Gulliver genuinely knew nothing about her husband’s criminal activities. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Len Gulliver.
‘And where is your husband now?’ he asked.
Mrs. Gulliver started to cry and pointed to the dining room.
Surprised, Resnick walked over and pushed the dining room door open.
‘You’re nicked, Len!’ he roared, then stopped, aghast. There was a coffin on the table.
‘The cancer got him in the throat,’ Mrs. Gulliver explained from behind him. She was in floods of tears. ‘Thankfully it was over quickly and he didn’t suffer long.’
They were back where they started. Once outside, Fuller couldn’t stop himself. ‘You’re nicked, Len.’ Fuller mocked. ‘Gotta be a classic that... absolute classic.’
As they got into their car, Andrews told Resnick that Alice had been on the radio twice. Once to say an informant called Green Teeth had rung for him, and the second call was to say that DCI Saunders wanted to know where he was.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ Resnick shouted at Fuller. ‘I told you to get me back to the station by four!’
‘Is it something important?’ Fuller asked as he started the engine, knowing full well that Resnick had arranged the meeting, not just to review the case, but to discuss his chances for promotion. Like the rest of the squad, Fuller suspected Resnick’s promotional chances were, as ever, pretty low. They’d be even lower now that he’d missed his appointment. Fuller looked in the rearview mirror and winked at Andrews.
Resnick ordered Fuller to drive to the Rawlins house so he could to speak to the officers on surveillance there. Fuller drove slowly past Dolly’s house, which was in darkness with the curtains drawn. He pulled up near the unmarked surveillance car and Resnick got out. Hawkes nearly bolted through the roof when Resnick banged his window. They had nothing to report, no movement, nothing... apart from a furniture truck that had arrived at the Rawlins property and taken out a baby’s cot and bedding along with other various nursery items. The truck had been stopped and searched up the road by a uniform patrol car, but nothing incriminating had been found.
‘Take me back to the station,’ Resnick ordered. ‘Let’s hope Green Teeth has got something more productive for me than you bunch of wasters.’
Arnie Fisher was inches away from Tony’s face, talking calmly and slowly. Tony knew it was best just to listen.
‘It was a simple job. You pick up twenty grand’s worth of booze for twelve grand, and bring it back here. No rough stuff. No shagging the wife of the bloke you’re doing a deal with. What’s in your head, son?’ Arnie demanded, poking Tony in the temple. ‘What makes you do stupid things all the time?’
Tony wasn’t fazed. ‘She was a pretty little blonde with big tits who made no complaints about me touching her up.’ A grin slowly spread across Tony’s face. ‘Her pig-ugly husband complained though! You should have seen the fat northern prick drop. One sucker punch and he was down.’
‘Then what?’ Arnie asked.
Tony shrugged. ‘Well, yes, I did hit the Jag on the way out of the car park, but the good news is that I hit it on that prick’s Beemer. Carlos will fix the Jag, no problem. Look, Arnie,’ he continued, excitement getting the better of him, ‘I had the Old Bill on my tail, sirens blaring, blue lights flashing, the whole works — and I managed to lose them. No one was hurt, the booze van got back to London OK, and I got my end away — what’s there to worry about?’
‘The fact that the Manchester guys probably won’t do business with us again,’ said Arnie, beginning to lose his temper. ‘And that is a worry — they’re bloody good customers!’
Tony lounged back in the leather swivel chair. ‘Screw the Manchester wankers! You shouldn’t be worrying about small-time northern business, darlin’, you should be worrying about big-time Rawlins business right here on your doorstep.’
‘You think I don’t know that?’ Arnie barked back. ‘Why did you think I sent you to Manchester? I don’t need you going off the rails here, Tony. I need calm. I need tactics and brains.’