Page 81 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Your snake?”
Are you mad?“No, I’m scared to death of snakes. I think it was posted through my letterbox by a guy who’s been harassing me. You have the information about him on file.”
“Hold on a moment…”
What the hell was Brad thinking?
“Okay,” the policeman said. “I see your details. Is the snake venomous?”
“I have no idea.”
“How big is it?”
“It was curled around my bike, but maybe three-foot long.”
“Someone will come out, but call the RSPCA. We can’t handle snakes.”
“I’ve misplaced my phone. I’m on one belonging to the lady who runs the hair salon next to my place. Miriam Hall.”
“I’ll make a note.”
“Thank you.”
Miriam stood at the door, clutching Snoopy and gawping at him.
“I need to call the RSPCA now,” he told her.
“Go ahead,” she told him.
“Can you find me the number?”
He handed her the phone with shaking fingers and a moment later, he was telling them what had happened.
Jonty returned Miriam’s phone. “The police and the RSPCA are coming. They asked if anyone either side kept a snake.”
“I don’t.” She peeked at the two elderly ladies who were having their hair styled. “I don’t see them with pet snakes tucked in their handbags. And how would it get from here to you?”
Jonty left the shop and stood staring at his door.Fucking Brad.It had to be him. There was no way in from either side up the stairs. No cracks in the steps, no holes in the walls. At least, there hadn’t been.Hadit escaped from a neighbouring property? This was a row of terraces, houses with a shared roof space. Jonty had never been up in the attic, though he supposed it was possible a snake had decided to go walkabout. Yet he thought not.
Why was Brad doing all this? The increasingly bizarre gifts? None of it was going to make Jonty want to go out with him again. Brad knew he was scared of snakes, so this had been done to frighten him. Maybe because Brad had seen him with Devan, but he’d gone too far now. Jonty wished he had his phone, but it was possible it was lost in the sand rather than in the Aston Martin.And I can’t fucking call Devan. I can’t remember his number.
The policeman arrived first. Jonty handed him his keys, but the guy stayed next to Jonty, well away from the door. It was a relief that he seemed as nervous as Jonty. It made him feel less pathetic.
“What makes you think Brad Greene is responsible?” the policeman asked.
Jonty gave him a potted history ofhim and Bradand added that Brad had confronted him outside the flat that morning, and that he knew how Jonty felt about things that hissed and slithered.
“Maybe it escaped from someone who lives in this row of houses,” the policeman said. “I remember reading about a woman who woke to find she was sharing her bed with a three-foot-long python. Turned out to be an escaped pet.”
For fuck’s sake!Jonty could feel his anxiety starting to choke him. “I asked in the hair salon and there’s no one in the laundrette. Those businesses own the floor above their premises, so there’s no one living either side of me.”
“Could be from several houses along if it moved through the roof space.”
Which was what Jonty had considered, and yes, it was possible, but he really thought it was Brad.
“You’re not making me feel better. Can you dust snakes for fingerprints?”
The policeman smothered a chuckle. “I doubt it.”
