Old Friends Page 15
Chapter Fifteen
Brian Marcus left home at 805am and stopped to get petrol and a coffee on the way. He drove at a normal speed, indicated correctly and stopped for every orange light. He took a direct route to work and got there at 830am. He parked completely within the white lines, locked the car and went inside.
Mike called Dan from outside the depot and let him know.
Thirty seconds later Dan knocked on the Marcus’ front door and waited. He was dressed in shorts and a T shirt, with a high viz vest over the top reading Meter Reader and a Meter Reader cap. He had a clipboard in his hand and a cheery disposition, just like the friendly local meter reader guy.
When nobody answered the door he made a note on the clipboard, checked the time and noted that down too, and made his way round the side of the house. The gardens needing weeding and the lawns were overdue, but the house itself looked in reasonable nick.
Dan whistled but no dogs came running out, so he carried on round the back. The small rear deck had a resin chair and table set and a pot of wilted herbs. Not much of an outdoors entertainer then, Dan figured.
He peered in the French doors and saw the usual clutter and mess of a single man living alone. Strangely, the lounge had an entertainment centre with a stereo but no TV and the rack beside it was devoid of CDs.
The only other furniture in the room was a single armchair and a small coffee table. Looking closer, Dan checked the empty spaces of where he would expect to see lounge furniture. Imprints could clearly be seen in the carpet where a couch and another armchair had been until recently.
Brian Marcus broke for lunch at 1230, and walked to the bakery down the road. It was the sort of place that did hotdogs and chips, big filled rolls and pies, and always smelt like a fry-up. He got his usual large sausage roll, carton of hot chips, and bottle of semi-cold full-fat Coke.
He paid and walked outside to get back to the office. He saw a dark blue Holden at the kerb and two men standing beside it waiting. One was Mike, the driver his brother had just sacked, and the other one was the guy Terry had said was a private detective. Brian’s heart dropped through the floor and he felt a sweat break out on his scalp.
He’d known this day was going to come, but he’d tried to kid himself it wouldn’t. Now it was here and his chest went tight and he couldn’t breathe and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.
The other man stepped forward with his hand extended and a non-committal look on his face.
‘Hi Brian,’ he said politely, ‘I’m Dan Crowley. I’m here to help you.’
Brian shook his hand limply and wheezed like he smoked 100 a day. He wished he had a cigarette right now, but all he had was a smelly fried lunch and a guilty conscience. The other man spoke again.
‘We need to talk Brian, I won’t take up much of your time but I know you’re in a bad spot right now and I’m going to help you get out of it. Right?’
He waited for a reply, and Brian found himself nodding weakly. The grease from his sausage roll was coming through the paper bag and staining his shirt but he didn’t care. There was light at the end of the tunnel and he felt himself lifting inside.
It was going to be okay.
Dan stepped aside and held a hand out to shepherd Brian towards the car, where Mike was opening the back door.
Busy as they were, none of them noticed the rusted old Cortina cruise slowly past with three familiar heads in it, paying close attention to the activity outside the bakery.