Widows

Returning to her own bedroom, Dolly picked up the photograph that Shirley had found. She went to the window, eased the curtain back slightly and looked down at the parked car. It was too dark to see the interior, so Dolly patiently waited and watched. Eventually, another car drove past and briefly lit up the face of the man in the driver’s seat. It was as if a blade of ice cut through her. ‘Oh, Eddie,’ she gasped. ‘Stupid, stupid Eddie.’ Tears filled Dolly’s eyes as her mind raced. Eddie didn’t have the balls to do anything under his own steam, let alone break into her home, attack Shirley and kill poor Wolf in the process. ‘So, who’s pulling your strings?’ she whispered. But she already feared she knew the answer.

The gold Dunhill lighter in Jimmy Nunn’s flat.

The brutal murder of Boxer Davis.

Bill Grant, the man at the lock-up, knowing who she was.

Eddie Rawlins doing someone’s bidding inside and now outside her home.

Dolly slumped on the edge of her bed, gripping her tired and confused head in her hands. ‘It was a rumor,’ she said, trying to convince herself. ‘It was my rumor. It wasn’t the truth. It was never the truth!’ As unbelievable and terrifying and hurtful as it was, Dolly couldn’t shake the thought. ‘No, no, no, no! I saw your watch.’

All chance of sleep was gone. Her eyes were wide open now, and her heart felt as though it had seized. ‘But I saw your watch,’ she cried out loud. ‘I saw your watch!’

Chapter 35

Kathleen Resnick could hear George moving about downstairs. She looked at the bedside clock; it was nearly midnight. He’d be drunk, pacing up and down with a whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The last time he had been like this was when his suspension made the headlines. Then, he’d drunk himself into oblivion, fallen asleep with a cigarette in his hand and almost burned the house down.

Slipping on her dressing gown, she went downstairs to give him a piece of her mind. The front room was full of cigarette smoke. Kathleen was about to speak, but he held up his hand. He was on the phone, the receiver balanced between his shoulder and ear and he was holding a notepad and pen in his hands. He wasn’t drunk — far from it. He was bursting with energy.

‘Yes, I’m DCI Saunders from the Yard. I’ve been out on an observation and need to know the registered owner of the car index I just gave you. It’s very urgent.’

What on earth was he up to? Kathleen crossed the smoky lounge and stood next to her husband, arms folded. Whatever he was doing, he was clearly not meant to be doing it.

‘Sorry, what? James what? Nunn... and the address?’ Resnick scribbled down the information on the notepad. ‘Thank you, officer. Very kind and much appreciated.’ George replaced the receiver and opened the address book next to the phone.

‘What are you doing pretending to be Saunders?’ Kathleen demanded.

Resnick thumbed through the diary. ‘I needed a car registration checked on the police computer so I phoned the local nick. I couldn’t very well say who I was, could I? Where’s Alice’s home number? I thought we had it in the address book?’

Kathleen couldn’t believe it. ‘You can’t ring that poor woman at this time of night!’

When George looked up at his wife, his face was hard and cruel. ‘Yes, I can! Alice is someone I can speak to at this time of night. So, take your disapproving looks back to bed and let me do my job.’ He found Alice’s number and picked the phone up again.

Kathleen stormed back upstairs. ‘You don’t have a job,’ she yelled as she went.

Resnick waited as the phone rang and rang. He glanced at the clock. Maybe his wife was right... but this couldn’t wait, it was too important.

‘Alice?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Alice wasn’t angry at being woken at gone midnight; she was worried that Resnick was in trouble.

‘Nothing’s wrong, love. Listen, I need you to do me a favor first thing tomorrow morning.’

Alice was sitting at her dressing table with a pen and paper on one hand and the phone in the other. As she jotted down Resnick’s instructions, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. God, she looked just like her mother! She had thick cream on her face and was wearing a nightdress that would terrify any man. She thanked God that Resnick had chosen to call and not pop round.

‘You mustn’t get caught, Alice, you understand? You’re the only person I can ask. Will you help me?’

Alice looked at her terrible reflection and smiled. ‘Of course I’ll help you, sir.’

Chapter 36

Trudie had let Bill into the flat and he was now waiting for Harry. He sniffed. The grubby little flat smelt of baby’s piss. He was still wincing when Harry came out of the bedroom, wrapping a towel round himself.