The Campbell Road Girls. Kay Brellend

that.’

      ‘Can, Eddie,’ Bill sighed. ‘Can say five hundred and you’re still getting a steal.’ He chuckled at his little joke. He knew he’d got him. Eddie desperately wanted the stuff and he couldn’t blame him. It was the bargain of the century. If Bill had had more time to shift it he’d have gone elsewhere. He knew he could have got closer to a grand if he’d sold the stuff individually. But he wanted shot of it quickly because it was hot and he might at any time get a visit from the boys in blue.

      He also needed some money pronto to pay off what he owed on other deals. His spare bedroom at home was stuffed floor to ceiling with fur coats, and the bad girls who’d hoisted the stuff for him were giving him earache about getting their share of the loot. He needed to keep Betty and her crew sweet because they earned him a fortune, and a few of the girls didn’t mind joining him in bed when Betty’s back was turned. Bill glanced at Eddie; he knew he had a wad about the place somewhere. Much as Eddie Finch liked to plead poverty, the miser always had ready cash.

      Bill glanced about the parlour with distaste. Considering the dump Eddie lived in it wasn’t surprising he had a stash; he certainly didn’t spend any of his money on his home or his family.

      Eddie swiped a hand over his bristly chin. ‘There ain’t gonna be no comeback on this, is there?’

      ‘Nah! The girl I got working for me, she’s young but real cute. No flies on her. We’ve covered her tracks.’

      ‘Nothing going to be in the papers, then, to identify it? No list of items up Scotland Yard getting looked at?’

      ‘Got hoisted off some posh bloke’s tart.’ Bill shrugged. ‘When I say tart, course I mean a right high-class brass. Set up in style, she is, in Mayfair. The old boy, who I can tell you is an MP, ’n’ all – but no more clues,’ he joked playfully – ‘well, he ain’t gonna want it splashed all over the papers that his mistress’s jewellery got robbed when it’s probably a damn sight better than anything he’s ever bought fer his missus, is he?’

      ‘Who is this girl you use? Is it Betty?’ Eddie was playing for time while he thought things through. He doubted that Bill would have used Betty Pickering to steal this lot. For one thing, she was the woman in his harem he fancied the most and he wouldn’t risk getting her banged up on a long stretch for something serious. Betty already had a police record for shoplifting and had done short sentences. Her face was well known; she wouldn’t easily get a job in service, even with false references.

      ‘My business, that is, Eddie.’ Bill tapped his nose. ‘Can’t expect me to go telling you me trade secrets. Don’t you worry, she’s a pro all right. Weren’t there working as a maid for this tart more’n a week.’ He made a diving motion with a hand. ‘Straight in, she were, had a mosey around, found where the jewellery box were hid and Bob’s yer uncle.’ He abruptly drew the gems into his fingers, his expression grim. ‘Time’s up. Ready or not?’

      ‘What you doin’ downstairs, Jenny?’ Eddie had scrambled to his feet at the sight of one of his teenage daughters stationed in the doorway. ‘I told you to stay in yer room, you disobedient little ... Winnie!’ he roared, summoning his wife.

      Winifred shot out and gawped at Jennifer. ‘You know yer dad don’t like you downstairs when he’s got company,’ she wailed. Her bony hands began flapping in front of her pinafore to shoo the girl away.

      ‘Only after a drink of water,’ Jennifer breathed in a high nervous voice, but she couldn’t stop her gleaming eyes from sliding towards Bill Black.

      ‘Leave her be; ain’t doin’ no harm.’ Bill sent the girl a subtle smile. He knew Eddie and Winnie had twin daughters who were about fourteen. This was the little minx who gave him come-on looks; the prettier one, called Katherine, seemed a right stuck-up cow. Considering who she was and where she lived she’d no right to such airs and graces, in Bill’s opinion. He’d seen Jennifer before, watching him out of an upstairs window when he’d been unloading stuff from the boot of his car. He knew her sort – had a throb in her fanny before her tits were big enough to be of interest. Bill was wise enough to decline gaol bait but he wasn’t averse to stringing her along and letting her know he’d be ready when she was ...

      ‘Fetch her a bleedin’ cup of water and get rid of her,’ Eddie growled through set teeth at his wife. He’d seen Jennifer stare at the pile of gems before her eyes skittered away. Once Bill was gone the little slut would feel the back of his hand.

      A moment later, Winnie thrust a chipped cup at her daughter, slopping some water down the front of Jennifer’s nightdress in her haste to get rid of her.

      Once Winnie had taken herself off back into the kitchenette and the stairs creaked quietly, Bill said, amused, ‘Now ... where was we, Finchie? You want this stuff or not, ’cos I’m on a promise and I don’t want Betty to go off the boil, if yer know wot I mean ...’

      ‘All right,’ Eddie muttered in defeat. ‘Give yer half now and half on Friday.’ He pulled out of his pocket a thick roll of notes and, having slowly counted out, slapped most of it down on the tablecloth. ‘Look ... just left meself a tenner to get by.’

      Bill laughed at his sulky expression as he picked up the cash. ‘You know that ain’t how it works, mate.’

      ‘Fucking hell,’ Eddie snapped, slamming himself back in the chair. ‘Yer reckon I’ve got five hundred notes about the place?’

      ‘Tell you what.’ Bill tilted his head, eyeing him shrewdly. ‘I’ll take yer two ’n’ ’alf and leave you them.’ He pushed some rings towards Eddie. ‘Then Friday I’ll come by with the sapphire and you can settle up.’ He waved the ring beneath Eddie’s nose before pocketing it.

      Eddie jerked immediately to his feet. He reckoned come Friday Bill would have sold it elsewhere. ‘You don’t trust me to pay up?’ He was all huffy indignation.

      ‘Course I don’t, mate.’ Bill also got to his feet. ‘What kind o’ mug d’you take me for?’ He picked up the whisky and downed it in one swallow. ‘Say thanks to the missus fer the drink, won’t you now, just in case she can’t hear me.’ A sardonic glance was sent towards the kitchenette.

      ‘No ... hang on ...’ Eddie stopped him by the door that led into the gloomy passage. He swiped a hand over his jaw. ‘I’ll see what I can rake up.’ He went into the kitchen and closed the door quickly behind him. Raised voices could be heard, then a shove from her husband sent Winifred, holding her son by the hand, hurtling out of the small room. The momentum was too much for the boy’s balance and he fell to his knees, but Winnie immediately hoisted him up by an arm before flouncing out of the parlour. A moment later the stairs started creaking again.

      Bill chuckled to himself as he heard Eddie turn the key in the lock. Wherever it was Eddie had hidden his money in the kitchen he wasn’t about to let him, or his wife, know about it. ‘Wise move, mate,’ Bill called drily. ‘Can’t be too careful. Winnie finds yer stash you won’t see her nor it no more.’

      Garbled muttering was heard coming from behind the door, then a few moments later Eddie was back with a roll of notes. ‘There, take the fuckin’ lot. You’ve cleaned me out.’ He threw the money on the table.

      ‘Know what I reckon, Eddie?’ Bill grinned as he collected fivers and tenners. ‘I reckon I should’ve asked fer more because you could pull a grand out of this place if necessary, couldn’t yer?’ He shook his head. ‘Crafty old git.’ He retrieved the ring from his pocket. ‘There, have that, and a good leg-over later, if you let Winifred slip it on. She’ll be staring at that instead of the ceiling for a change, and fantasising you’re Ramon Navarro and she’s Tallulah Bankhead.’ Ignoring Eddie’s scowl he went out guffawing, one hand curved about the cash in his pocket.

      Even before he’d heard the front door click shut behind Bill, Eddie was drawing his belt from his trousers. He was seething to have been forced to pay so much for the jewellery. He wasn’t happy either that he’d been forced to scrape together his nest egg in front of his wife; he now needed