She's Out by Lynda La Plante Page B

talked it over with the Super and decided to take Donaldson to his home and give it a few days to see if Rawlins made
contact.
    When Donaldson knew he was going home, would see his wife – even if a police officer was to be with him at all times – he told them where the stones were hidden. His wife still ran
his junk and antique shop and the main wall had a four-brick hideaway; if they removed the bricks, they would find the gems.
    Craigh and Palmer thumped each other; it had worked like a little jewel up to now and there was, or had been, a whopper of a reward out for the return of the stones. They congratulated Mike, who
was well chuffed because if it did pan out, if Dolly Rawlins contacted Donaldson, if they got the diamonds and had Donaldson handed them over to her, they could arrest her and have her sent right
back to prison. Rest in peace, Shirley Miller.
    Dolly stood outside her old house in Totteridge. She stared at the new curtains, the fresh paint. It no longer was or had any part in her life but for the twenty years of her
marriage that was where she lived. She had always been house proud, and it had been a show palace. Harry entertained regularly and she had always set a nice table with good, home-cooked food. She
had thought she was happy, had believed he was, too, but nothing had prepared her for his betrayal and, as she stood there, she clenched her hands, not wanting to break down, refusing to after all
these years. He had forced her into a grief-driven fury – she had even buried him when all the time he had been alive. Alive and cheating on her. It was so bizarre, so insane what she had
done, what she had become. She had confronted him, and even when he faced her, knowing that she knew everything, he had still been so sure of her love for him that he had opened his arms and said,
‘I love you, Doll.’
    She had pulled the trigger then, almost nine years ago, and she had served the sentence for his murder. She was free now. She walked back to the waiting chauffeur and he opened the car door for
her.
    ‘That was my home,’ she said softly.
    He helped her inside the car.
    ‘Now it’s someone else’s.’ She seemed so sad and lost he felt sorry for her, but she suddenly gave him a sweet smile.
    ‘Can I use this portable phone, then?’
    Ester grabbed the phone after two rings, knew it had to be Dolly. Only she knew the new number: she’d got it when the phone had been reconnected. She was right. Dolly was
on her way. Ester sighed with relief and then hurried into the dining room.
    The table was almost ready but Gloria and Kathleen were having a go at each other. ‘She’s drinking, Ester. I keep telling her not to get pissed.’
    Ester snatched up one of the bottles as Kathleen shouted that all she was doing was getting them ready for the decanters, recorked the bottle and banged it on to the table. ‘She’s on
her way, and as soon as those lads are finished we’d all better have a talk, get us all sorted. She’s not stupid so we got to make this look good. Where’s Connie?’
    ‘I’m here. I’ve been repairing my nails. I’ve chipped two already – they’re not supposed to be in too much water, you know.’
    Gloria raised her eyes to heaven as Connie showed off her false-tipped nails. Ester told her to start bringing up extra chairs from the cellar. She had to show her the way and as they walked
down the hall, Connie pulled her to one side. ‘What were they in prison for?’
    Ester told her that Gloria had been in for a long stretch for fencing stolen guns and Kathleen was in for forgery and kiting.
    ‘And what about Julia? What was she in for?’
    Gloria appeared, overhearing. The doc was in for sellin’ prescriptions. She was a junkie.’
    Connie flushed with embarrassment.
    ‘I heard you, Ester. I wasn’t done for the guns, that was a total frame-up. I was stitched up.’
    Ester sighed, already sick and tired of Gloria. She ushered Connie along to the cellar door,