Chapter 19

By the time Ridley walked in to the squad room, one hour ahead of the rest of his team, Jack had rearranged all three evidence boards into an order that more easily supported his latest theory.

The linear timeline had gone and, instead, he’d grouped people and events together.

The picture of Mike was pinned next to one of Angela, with the other Grange women beneath her. Audrey was in the mix, as was Norma Walker. And at the heart of it all was the train robbery, closely followed by the diamond raid.

Ridley took off his coat, perched on the edge of Jack’s desk, folded his arms and waited for Jack to speak.

“Angela Dunn worked for Ester Freeman back in ’85,” said Jack. “Mike Withey and Angela knew each other in ’95. All of these women were living under the same roof in ’95, so it’s possible they all knew Mike, too. I think it’s likely that Dolly Rawlins also knew him, because of the acrimonious history between her and Audrey, Mike’s mum. I’m not sure where Audrey and Norma fit in, but I don’t want to dismiss them just yet.”

Jack paused for Ridley to respond, but he didn’t, although he remained alert and attentive.

“Now, when Dolly Rawlins was released from prison,” Jack continued, “Mike was certain she knew where the diamonds were. He claimed it was a tip-off, but what if . . . ?”

Ridley’s eyebrows shot up, stopping Jack in his tracks. It was dodgy territory to be accusing a police officer of anything, but Jack plunged on regardless.

“What if Mike himself was the tip-off? His sister was murdered during the diamond robbery. Mike’s mum lives in the beating heart of London’s gangland. They all knew each other, sir, then and now.”

Without a word, Ridley got to his feet and went into his office. In the corner was a coffee machine, and Jack could see him fiddling with the buttons. He could almost hear his boss’s brain processing the evidence he’d just been presented with. All Jack wanted right now was for Ridley to accept that it was all feasible.

Ridley emerged with two Americanos and handed one to Jack. He perched on the desk again.

“So who do you think’s in that first grave belonging to Harry Rawlins?”

Jack had to stop himself from smiling. Ridley’s question was unexpected, but it gave him just the opportunity he wanted.

“I don’t know who’s in there, sir, but I’ll tell you what I think’s in that grave . . .” He took a deep breath. “The diamonds.”

He blurted the words out before self-preservation could stop him from speaking. If Ridley accepted this, then Jack would soon find out if Jimmy Nunn was dead or alive. If they also found six million pounds in diamonds, that would be a bonus.

Ridley had drunk almost half of his coffee by the time he was ready to speak.

“That funeral turned into the biggest embarrassment for the Met in living memory. And, from the second we knew that Rawlins couldn’t possibly be in that coffin, it became the biggest no-go area. We couldn’t have ID’d the body anyway, ’cos there wasn’t enough of it left—that was our excuse back then for not digging it up. And, over the years, people stopped caring who was down there.”