Thanks.' He flicked the end
call button on the phone and put it back in his jeans pocket.
'He's gone?'
Mo sighed. 'Yeah, he's gone. They went out after him but he
ran, and now they're saying they haven't got enough people on
duty to try to locate him.'
They were still standing on the Merons' driveway with PCs
Coombs and Leverett, and Bolt turned to them now. 'If Mr
Meron turns up here, can you call us on this number?' He
handed out business cards with his mobile number on them to
the two officers. 'Have you got a photo of him anywhere?'
'The people over the road have,' said PC Leverett.
'Well, maybe they can let us have one.'
The people over the road were a vaguely harassed couple
called the Hendersons whose two young boys were charging
about like wild animals, refusing to go to bed. Both Martin and
Suzette Henderson described the Merons as a perfectly
ordinary, friendly couple who they couldn't imagine getting
involved in crime of any sort. Martin managed to find them a
photo of the two of them taken at a barbecue the previous
summer held in honour of their youngest son's birthday.
The photo seemed to reflect the Hendersons' description. The
Merons were indeed an ordinary-looking, if quite photogenic,
pair in their mid-thirties, both smiling at the camera in front of a
bright yellow and orange bouncy castle. He had his arm round
her, and was holding a can of Fosters in his spare hand, while
she had hold of a glass of red wine. They didn't look like the sort
of people who got mixed up with murder, but that didn't mean
that they hadn't. As a young PC, Bolt remembered arresting
a sweet-looking white-haired old lady of seventy-two who
attended church every Sunday without fail, and was known as
Nan by the neighbourhood children, to whom she would often
distribute sweets. She'd even offered him a cup of tea after he
and his colleagues had turned up to take her away for burying a
meat cleaver in the back of her husband's head, almost killing
him. It turned out that she had an unusually high sex drive, and
the husband had been refusing to service her needs. Things had
got out of hand, and she'd lost her rag, something which under
questioning she'd put down to a build-up of nervous tension
caused by a lack of orgasms. It takes all sorts, Bolt reflected.
As the two NCS men were leaving, Martin Henderson came
out after them.
'I don't want to make a big islue of this,' he said quietly, as
they stopped to hear what he had to say, 'because it may not
mean anything, and I don't want to get anyone in trouble.'
'Go on,' said Bolt.
Henderson sighed. 'It's just that things have been a bit strange
witlk Tom and Kathy lately. I've seen him driving out late at
night, then coming back in the early hours, and she's been around
a lot less than usual.' He paused. 'There's also been fights. Big
screaming matches, and they've never had them before. One
time, Tom was even walking round with a black eye.'
'How long's this been going on?'
'A while. A few months now.' Henderson was about to
say something else, but then he heard his wife, who'd finally
managed to round up the kids, coming down the stairs. 'Like I
say, I don't want to get anyone into trouble, but. ..' He let the
sentence trail off, said his goodbyes and went back inside.
As they reached the car, Bolt looked at his watch. Twenty past
eight. A thick bank of black clouds was now forming to the west,
and from somewhere in the far distance there came a faint
rumble of thunder.
15
We drove through a variety of back roads. I only know this
because the driver kept the speed at no more than thirty and
made a lot of turnings. During the whole time I remained in the
same uncomfortable position, not daring to move. When I tried
to speak, wanting to ask these men where they were taking me
and where my wife was, I was told by the one sitting next to
me to keep my mouth shut. 'We'll talk later,' came the ominous
promise.
My mouth and throat felt bone dry. The only thing I'd drunk
since three
call button on the phone and put it back in his jeans pocket.
'He's gone?'
Mo sighed. 'Yeah, he's gone. They went out after him but he
ran, and now they're saying they haven't got enough people on
duty to try to locate him.'
They were still standing on the Merons' driveway with PCs
Coombs and Leverett, and Bolt turned to them now. 'If Mr
Meron turns up here, can you call us on this number?' He
handed out business cards with his mobile number on them to
the two officers. 'Have you got a photo of him anywhere?'
'The people over the road have,' said PC Leverett.
'Well, maybe they can let us have one.'
The people over the road were a vaguely harassed couple
called the Hendersons whose two young boys were charging
about like wild animals, refusing to go to bed. Both Martin and
Suzette Henderson described the Merons as a perfectly
ordinary, friendly couple who they couldn't imagine getting
involved in crime of any sort. Martin managed to find them a
photo of the two of them taken at a barbecue the previous
summer held in honour of their youngest son's birthday.
The photo seemed to reflect the Hendersons' description. The
Merons were indeed an ordinary-looking, if quite photogenic,
pair in their mid-thirties, both smiling at the camera in front of a
bright yellow and orange bouncy castle. He had his arm round
her, and was holding a can of Fosters in his spare hand, while
she had hold of a glass of red wine. They didn't look like the sort
of people who got mixed up with murder, but that didn't mean
that they hadn't. As a young PC, Bolt remembered arresting
a sweet-looking white-haired old lady of seventy-two who
attended church every Sunday without fail, and was known as
Nan by the neighbourhood children, to whom she would often
distribute sweets. She'd even offered him a cup of tea after he
and his colleagues had turned up to take her away for burying a
meat cleaver in the back of her husband's head, almost killing
him. It turned out that she had an unusually high sex drive, and
the husband had been refusing to service her needs. Things had
got out of hand, and she'd lost her rag, something which under
questioning she'd put down to a build-up of nervous tension
caused by a lack of orgasms. It takes all sorts, Bolt reflected.
As the two NCS men were leaving, Martin Henderson came
out after them.
'I don't want to make a big islue of this,' he said quietly, as
they stopped to hear what he had to say, 'because it may not
mean anything, and I don't want to get anyone in trouble.'
'Go on,' said Bolt.
Henderson sighed. 'It's just that things have been a bit strange
witlk Tom and Kathy lately. I've seen him driving out late at
night, then coming back in the early hours, and she's been around
a lot less than usual.' He paused. 'There's also been fights. Big
screaming matches, and they've never had them before. One
time, Tom was even walking round with a black eye.'
'How long's this been going on?'
'A while. A few months now.' Henderson was about to
say something else, but then he heard his wife, who'd finally
managed to round up the kids, coming down the stairs. 'Like I
say, I don't want to get anyone into trouble, but. ..' He let the
sentence trail off, said his goodbyes and went back inside.
As they reached the car, Bolt looked at his watch. Twenty past
eight. A thick bank of black clouds was now forming to the west,
and from somewhere in the far distance there came a faint
rumble of thunder.
15
We drove through a variety of back roads. I only know this
because the driver kept the speed at no more than thirty and
made a lot of turnings. During the whole time I remained in the
same uncomfortable position, not daring to move. When I tried
to speak, wanting to ask these men where they were taking me
and where my wife was, I was told by the one sitting next to
me to keep my mouth shut. 'We'll talk later,' came the ominous
promise.
My mouth and throat felt bone dry. The only thing I'd drunk
since three
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