Widows

Eddie had done a bit of sparring back in the day, with Harry. He raised his left hand to defend himself from the punch and then swung with his right at the same time, catching Shirley on the jaw. She was in such a state and her ankle was still so weak that she stumbled on her heels and fell backward at the same time as Eddie’s fist made contact, which turned it into a glancing blow rather than a full-on punch. Shirley was back at him in an instant, scratching at his eyes and kicking him with her good leg for all she was worth. Eddie grabbed her wrists hard and held her arms apart.

‘Where’s the fucking money, you bitch?’ he screamed and, releasing one hand, he slapped her hard.

At first Wolf thought it was some kind of game, and jumped up on his hind legs, yapping and wagging his tail. But the tone of anger in Eddie’s voice, followed by the slap to Shirley’s face and then her piercing scream, was enough for the little dog. He sank his teeth into Eddie’s leg. The little teeth didn’t hurt that much, but it took Eddie by surprise, and in that split second Shirley broke from his grip. As she turned toward the kitchen counter she heard Wolf let out an ear-piercing yelp.

Grabbing the coffee pot, Shirley pulled the lid off and threw the still bubbling brown liquid into Eddie’s face, aiming for his eyes. He screamed in pain as the boiling coffee burned and blistered his face and his neck. Half-blind, he turned and ran from the kitchen into the hall, crashing into a table and knocking over a vase of flowers.

Shirley heard the vase break as it hit the wooden hallway floor, then she heard the front door opening and Eddie’s heavy footsteps running off down the gravel path, followed by a car starting up then speeding away. In the eerie silence that followed, Shirley crumpled into a heap on a kitchen chair and held her head in her hands. Her jaw ached, her ankle throbbed and her head spun. She began sobbing: a mixture of fear and relief. She had no idea who the intruder was, but he was clearly after the money, which meant he must have known about the robbery. Oh — how she wished that Dolly was with her right now!

Wiping her eyes, Shirley looked round the kitchen. Coffee stains were all over the wall and even on the ceiling by the open door to the hallway, but she didn’t think that Dolly would give two hoots about any of that. Then Shirley realized — it was silent. ‘Wolf?’ she whispered. ‘Wolfie?’ She staggered to her feet. Perhaps Wolf had followed the man out into the street? But as she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen, she realized that things were far, far worse.

‘Oh no, no, no... please, God, no...’

Wolf lay motionless on the floor. Shirley knelt beside him, silently begging. Please let him be OK... She touched his little body, but there was no response. A small trickle of blood ran from Wolf’s mouth. Shirley sat on the kitchen floor next to the dead body of Dolly’s most beloved companion and cried. Stroking Wolf’s soft white fur, she realized what comfort he must have brought Dolly every time she held him in her arms. How was Dolly going to cope without him? She had no one in her life to love her now.

Chapter 31

Arnie Fisher poured a dose of antacid into the plastic cap provided with the bottle, gulping it down and burping loudly. The death of Carlos had shaken him badly. It was not that he genuinely cared about him; it was the rumors being spread. And not just about his connection to Carlos — Tony’s assault on Shirley Miller had got about, too. Arnie had attempted to control his brother but now he felt that everything was closing in on him.

Arnie began to sweat. What really terrified him was that Boxer Davis might have been telling the truth about Harry Rawlins. If Boxer was right and Harry Rawlins was alive, there would be severe repercussions. Arnie had been fencing stolen goods for Rawlins for many years, as well as having his hand in various other frauds and robberies. He had to restrain his crazy brother.

Tony chose that moment to kick open Arnie’s office door. ‘Look,’ he said and held up an early edition of the Evening Standard. ‘Front page: Daring Armed Robbery on a Security Wagon.’ He slapped the newspaper down on the desk in front of Arnie. ‘Four masked men — and they’ve got away with fuckin’ hundreds of thousands. Whether you like it or not, that fucker’s wife Dolly Rawlins has gotta have a hand in it. I’m gonna go there and slit the bitch’s throat...’

Arnie stood up and threw a large glass paperweight at his brother. It missed. He moved in front of the desk and grabbed Tony’s shirt collar, sweating profusely. ‘You listen to me,’ he said urgently. ‘We need to back off and go to ground. You’ve already put the frighteners on her, and I’m not havin’ that son of a bitch Harry Rawlins slit my throat.’

Pushing his brother away, Arnie went back to his desk and unlocked a drawer. He took out a thick wedge of bank notes.