Widows

‘I know.’ Bella stood and walked across to Linda. She stood close, held her arms out and let Linda fall into them. Bella squeezed her tight, nursing her like a loving mother comforting a small child. Linda rested her head on Bella’s shoulder and stared into the distance.

‘She’s an evil cow, Bella. She’s cruel and heartless. She made me feel so small and stupid and she made me hate him. I hate her so much. She’d better watch her back.’

Chapter 24

Dolly was waiting in her Mercedes in the car park of the Little Chef, just off the A23 road to Brighton. Wolf was asleep on the passenger seat. She’d parked at the far end, but she still had a clear view of the entrance and car park. She was becoming impatient; she’d been there for over half an hour, and he was late. Nervously tapping the briefcase on her lap, she looked around, feeling edgy. Was he was going to turn up at all?

To keep herself occupied, she got out her notebook and flipped through it, going over the last details of the robbery and things yet to be done. She sighed. Linda still hadn’t got a suitable van to act as the front blocking vehicle. Dolly understood that Linda must be under considerable stress after what she’d told her about Carlos, but she was smart enough to know when something was serious. And Carlos being in Arnie’s pocket and his bed was very serious. Dolly could never be one hundred percent sure of any of her girls but she had to trust Linda now. She wondered whether Linda had had the sense to disguise her voice when she called the police to grass on Carlos...

Suddenly, she slammed her fist on the briefcase, jolting Wolf awake. ‘Where the hell are you?’ she shouted. ‘Come on, you bastard. You’d never have kept Harry waiting like this.’ The problem with this meeting was that if it didn’t happen, the job was off — simple as that. She’d called Brian Marshall and said she worked for Harry Rawlins. Although he was dead, she was collecting debts owed on behalf of his family. Marshall had sounded doubtful on the phone, but had reluctantly agreed to meet, although he could just as easily have decided to run and Dolly would have had no idea how to track him down.

As she sat there, wondering how on earth she would tell the others, a Rover entered the car park and stopped on the other side. Dolly waited to make sure that the car, whoever it was, was alone and hadn’t been followed, ever wary of a trap.

Brian Marshall had already drunk half a flask of brandy by the time he pulled up, but was still shaking as he looked around: he had no idea what to expect, or who the contact was. Fortunately for Dolly, he’d decided that failure to turn up would be disastrous for him. His hand reached to his pocket for the flask of brandy, and took another swig. He felt disgusted with himself.

Brian Marshall’s drinking went hand in glove with his gambling and, ten years ago, he had drifted from the legitimate casinos into Arnie Fisher’s club, where the higher stakes attracted him. It was there he’d met Harry Rawlins. Harry was charming, always friendly and seemed interested in how Brian was and what he was doing for work. During one drunken conversation, Brian revealed that he was married to the sister of the owner of Samson’s, one of the country’s biggest security firms. From this point forward, Brian was in big trouble — not that he’d been aware of it.

Rawlins had continued to act like Brian’s friend, lending him money, encouraging him to gamble beyond his means. Brian had no idea how dangerous Harry was, until the night he had drunkenly allowed Harry Rawlins to pick up a seven-thousand-pound gambling marker to Arnie Fisher. Then Brian had belonged to Harry.

Rawlins waited patiently. It wasn’t until nearly a year later that he demanded Brian pay off the debt — money he knew Brian didn’t have. In return for canceling the debt, and a seven-thousand-pound cash gift on top, all Rawlins wanted was to be told the different routes Samson’s security wagons took when delivering large sums of cash. They regularly changed the routes as a security measure, and often at short notice. Rawlins promised to leave Marshall alone for good if he helped on this one job.

Terrified and under pressure, Marshall had had no option. He’d hoped against hope that Rawlins would be as good as his word and would leave him alone once the job was done. When he’d read of the botched robbery and Rawlins’s death, he had heaved a sigh of relief — but then he’d had the phone call. Scared that the meeting with this mysterious woman was about something much more sinister than the debt, Brian checked the envelope he’d tucked down the side of his seat. He’d come prepared. The passenger door opened, making him jump. A woman wearing dark glasses and carrying a briefcase got into his car.

Dolly could smell the booze straight away. She looked in disgust at Marshall’s red face, blotched from years of alcohol abuse. The collar of his pin-striped suit was covered in dandruff.