Chapter 3
The following days brought no improvement. The weather remained bleak, rain falling in relentless sheets, and my mood matched it. Len and Roger had delivered me back home with a parting warning — a reminder that they knew exactly where I lived and would “see to me” if I tried anything funny. Their words clung to me like damp clothes. I drifted around the house, replaying the events over and over. How had I fallen into such a mess? Where was I supposed to begin? Where on earth could I begin? I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to work. Every time I tried to start any research, my thoughts spiralled back to the strange cast of characters I had encountered. There was Susie — the thirty‑something blonde with a certain way about her. Had Anderson paid her? Was she running errands for him? She had vanished without a trace. Then Len and Roger: handy with their fists, sharp with their tongues, men who enjoyed intimidation as much as breathing. And then there was Mr Anderson — the Marlo...
