Widows

Resnick ignored him and continued to run his finger down the numbers called, checking to see if Boxer’s number or if the anonymous call to the police station on the night Carlos died was on there. At the bottom of the third page, the list of numbers suddenly stopped: no more recordings, no more notes, no more information. Resnick shot to his feet, knocking his chair over and slammed the file shut.

‘Well, I hope Saunders will be telling me what the bloody hell’s going on, because it seems he’s been keepin’ me in the dark and I won’t have it! First he stops the surveillance and then he stops the bleedin’ phone tap! What’s the point in me being here?’ He stormed off toward his boss’ office.

Andrews still had a faced like a slapped arse.

‘So, what did you say to Saunders?’ Fuller asked.

Andrews sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. ‘He did all the talking.’

This was disappointing. Fuller had hoped Andrews would have been spilling the beans on Resnick’s lunatic moment with Fat Fran.

‘Resnick gave me a lousy work report,’ Andrews continued. ‘And Saunders said I’d failed to make the grade, so I’m back on division and routine crime as of next month. I can’t believe it! I’ve always worked as hard as anyone else, done as I was told and never let Resnick down.’

Fuller suspected Andrews was for the chop; he felt sorry for him and said as much, but the fact was that, although he was a nice bloke, armed robbery investigations were out of his league. Working on division, investigating thefts and criminal damage would be more his forte. ‘Don’t worry. This job’s a roller coaster,’ Fuller said as he walked away. Then he whispered to himself: ‘I’m on my way up and you’re on your way down.’

When the explosion went off in Saunders’s office, the whole annex heard the boom of Resnick’s voice as he shouted at the top of his voice. All eyes looked over to the DCI’s office, where Resnick could be seen through the glass partition, red-faced with anger and thumping his fist on Saunders’s desk. Turning his head, Resnick saw Fuller, Andrews and others looking at him. He flung open the DCI’s office door and stepped into the corridor.

‘You all havin’ a bloody good gander and gettin’ an earful, are you? WELL, ARE YOU?’

Everyone in the annex suddenly pretended to be busy: there was a general rushing about and gathering up of papers, the typists typing frantically and officers picking up phones to make suddenly urgent calls. Except Fuller — Fuller stared Resnick down square for at least five seconds before looking away.

‘You know what?’ Andrews said, as he watched Fuller gloating. ‘You’re a bigger bastard than he is. He doesn’t make a conscious decision to be a shit; you do.’

Back in Saunders’s office, Resnick stood with both fists on the DCI’s desk as he leaned forward and glared at him. Saunders looked down at his memo pad and tapped it with the point of his sharpened pencil.

‘I withdrew the phone tap on the Rawlins woman when I found out about it a few days ago. For one, you had not sought mine or any other senior officer’s approval, which means it was illegal, not to mention the cost of having an officer monitor and write down the number of all the calls in and out, day and night. And I withdrew the surveillance for pretty much the same reason. I couldn’t justify two officers sitting outside the Rawlins house with Boxer Davis’s killer on the loose.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you pulled the tap?’ Resnick said, trying to regain his composure. ‘It could have been Dolly Rawlins that phoned Boxer Davis and who grassed up Carlos Moreno. It was a woman, sir. A woman who called to speak to Boxer Davis twice on the night he died. You should have told me.’

Saunders sat back in disbelief. ‘I should have told you? George — have you any idea how many times I have gone looking for you, only to find you were out God knows where? I left a copy of this memo on your desk. If you failed to read it that’s not my problem.’

‘I’m so close, sir.’

‘Close to what, exactly?’ Saunders asked.

Resnick sucked in his breath, trying to keep control of his temper. He’d already blown his top once; he knew he could only go so far with Saunders before he bit back. They’d been friends for so long...

Saunders placed the pencil down, leaned forward and stuck the knife in. ‘The Rawlins case is closed, George. You and your men are to assist on the Mayfair robbery. They have a few good leads and need more troops.’

‘Oh, no, no, no, please, just two more weeks. I’ll have something within two weeks.’ Resnick pleaded, sharing everything he had with his old friend. ‘We know there was a fourth man and I’m this close to finding him. When I do, I solve four cases in one go. He’s connected to them all, I know he is. Rawlins is connected to them all. It stands to reason that the fourth man is as well.’

‘Who do you think it is?’ Saunders inquired.

‘I’m close. Give me time. A little more time, that’s all. The fourth man and this woman who’s been calling people... they’re the key.’