Jack & Harry by Tony McKenna

Boldini parked the milk truck in the dairy yard, locked it and went into the small office at the front of the building to complete his paper-work. He had just returned from his regular run to Northam and was looking forward to getting home but had to leave the delivery dockets on the bookkeeper’s desk so the invoices could be attended to early the next morning before he came on duty again.
    He switched the radio on, tuned the dial to the ABC and whistled quietly along with the orchestra playing. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that that it was almost seven o’clock. The familiar news theme filled the office as Boldini worked and he figured he should be finished the end of the news bulletin.
    He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the items but his ears caught the mention of ‘Ashmorton River’ so he turned the volume up to concentrate more closely on the broadcaster’s deeply modulated voice.
    â€˜Police this afternoon dragged a section of the Ashmorton River following the disappearance of two teenage schoolboys and the discovery of an abandoned bicycle beside the river. The boys, missing since Tuesday, have not been seen since they left for school that morning and there are grave concerns for their whereabouts. The boy’s parents declined to be interviewed but a police spokesman said …’
    Gus Boldini didn’t wait for the rest of the broadcast. It hit him like a ton of bricks that the two missing boys must have been Jack Ferguson and Harry Turner that he had driven to Northam in his truck on Tuesday afternoon. It added up now, two teenage boys, missing since Tuesday … He rushed from the office, not bothering to switch off the wireless, slammed the door shut behind him and ran to his car.

    The Turners were now at the Fergusons, relieved by the result of the police river search but confused, nonetheless. They had just heard the ABC news item and when Jack switched the wireless off they sat silently in the lounge room not knowing what else to say when there was a frantic knocking on the front door.
    At first Jack didn’t recognise the swarthy man standing on the porch but invited him in when he said who he was and that he had news of the boys.
    They sat listening, without interruption, as Gus Boldini relayed what had happened on the Tuesday. ‘I’m sorry, Jack.’ He shook his head when he finished the story. ‘I believed everything they said. Bloody stupid of me it was, but they were so convincing.’
    â€˜Not your fault, Gus,’ Claude replied.
    â€˜Thank goodness they’ve come to no harm.’ Alice couldn’t stop sniffling but smiled through her tears.
    â€˜What do we do now?’ Jean asked.
    â€˜First thing we do is let the police know that they are in Northam so they can look for them tomorrow. Who do they know up there? Alice … Claude? Any ideas?’
    They shook their heads.
    â€˜I’ve always thought there was something fishy about this bike business. I just knew they couldn’t be involved in leaving that bike down by the river. That bloody Munse kid is going to be in a lot of hot water now for sending the police on a wild goose chase.’ Jack was angry, his teeth clenched.
    â€˜Forget about the Munses for now, Jack.’ Claude anxiously paced the floor. ‘Have to find those silly young buggers before they get into any major trouble.’
    Jack telephoned the local police station and reported what Gus Boldini had told them.
    â€˜Let’s all try and get a bit of sleep now, as hard as that may be,’ he said when he hung up. ‘You and I will drive up to Northam at first light in the morning, Claude.’
    â€˜Righto, Jack.’
    â€˜Shouldn’t you go now, Claude?’ Jean wiped her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief.
    â€˜No point,’ Jack answered kindly. ‘We couldn’t do much at this time of night anyhow, Jean. We’ll get there early in the morning and