And De Fun Don't Done (29 page)

There were French, Italian, Californian reds and whites, etc. Les studied them for a moment then went for a Don Cesar, Blanco Rioja 1968, Bin No. 15. If Norton's memory still served him right it should have been a crisp white wine with a rich, pear aroma that left a nice fruity aftertaste in your mouth. It was indeed. Yes, Viva España, thought Les, as he took a sip from his glass and winked a big smiling yes at Bernice.

Les waffled on a bit more about Ricco and Vinnie and Hank. He didn't say anything about getting Hank belted in the nightclub and he sure as hell didn't mention the mugger. As for Ricco and Vinnie being Mafia heavies? Was Lori sure she hadn't been watching too much TV? Lori now didn't appear anywhere near as nervous as when they first sat down, she wanted to know more about Ricco's home and how Vinnie operated his caryard. There wasn't a great deal Les could tell her there, but he started to get this feeling Lori was weighing him up and that her whole attitude had changed. The wide-eyed dumb blonde that had knocked on his door earlier had suddenly developed, if not a hardness, then a noticeable firmness around those wide, hazel eyes. Les suddenly found it a little curious, and the way she was slipping questions at him almost gave him a sense of déjà vu. But he put it down to the kind of silly adulation Lori had for the ‘funny Mafia types' she had spoken about earlier who
frequented the restaurant, then when she walked in and it turned out her date knew them she got it right between the eyes. A bit of a culture shock maybe? Though why did she seem so convinced Ricco and Vinnie were laundering money? Rumours? Or did she read it in the papers or see it on TV? Not that it would surprise Les if that was their caper. Vinnie the white shoe car salesman and Ricco the pizza man? Yeah, just like Les was a wealthy Australian horse trainer. Anyway, who gives a stuff? By now Les found his stomach starting to rumble something fierce, so he decided to order.

Bad luck they were too early for the stone crab season that went from October to May; but there were plenty of other tasty-looking things on the menu. Les opted for a dozen Atlantic clams on the half shell with a garlic, salsa sauce as an entree, then Pincho de Mariscos looked okay for a main. Lori had a Linguini Marinara then Croquettes de Mariscos. Norton reckoned they should have a Caesar salad and garlic bread as well; Lori reckoned that wasn't a bad idea either.

‘Coming right up,' said Bernice.

A bit more Blanco Rioja went down, then the first of the food arrived on the table. Norton's clams were in a wicker basket, steamed among all this spinach or seaweed, and didn't ring his doorbell all that much. But once you got them out of the shell then drowned them in salsa sauce and stuffed them into your face with garlic bread they were okay. Lori didn't complain about her linguini; it was nice and creamy, heaps of clams and oysters and things in it with your own pot of nice bitey parmesan cheese. The Caesar salad was spot on and enough for ten people. The entrees and more wine went down quite well until the rest arrived. Norton's main was spot on. Shrimp, scallops and grouper on skewers in a hot, but not too hot, Cajun sauce. It was tops. Lori wasn't complaining either. Her pink shrimp and crabmeat croquettes were cooked to perfection, accompanied by heaps of Key lime mustard sauce. All up, not a bad chomp.

Lori said she didn't feel like sweets and Norton
couldn't have fitted any in either without bursting; but they did finish with two lip-smacking, flat white coffees. Les wouldn't have minded lingering a bit over another margarita and pissing in Lori's pocket a bit more, and was a little surprised when she suggested they leave.

‘Okay,' he said, and caught the waitress's eye. Bernice came over and smiled. ‘It's alright. Mr Rizzitello said it's on the house.'

‘Oh!' Norton was genuinely surprised. The expression on Lori's face didn't appear to change.

‘Did you enjoy it?'

‘Yeah. It was the bloody grouse.'

Bernice's smile seemed to get wider. ‘Then you'll have to come back here again.'

‘Yeah. For sure.'

Bernice disappeared and Lori got to her feet; so did Norton.

‘Well, that was nice of my old mate, Vinnie,' said Les.

‘Yes. Wasn't it,' replied Lori, a little shortly. Next thing they were heading for the door.

Vinnie was still engrossed in conversation with his friends, Les stopped at the end of the bar and caught his eye. Lori kept her back to them. Vinnie looked up and made a gesture with his cigar.

‘On the house,' Norton heard him say, as he tried to shrug a thank you, and gestured to his pocket. ‘On the house,' Vinnie repeated, then waved him to the door with his cigar and went back to his friends.

Bernice had the door open for them. ‘Goodnight,' she smiled.'

‘Yeah, thanks a lot,' said Les, and slipped her fifty dollars.

‘Well, thank you.'

A few moments later Lori was gunning the VW and they were heading back to the condo with Diana Ross warbling ‘Stop. In the Name of Love' in the background. Lori didn't say a great deal on the way home, though she seemed to be thinking fairly deeply. Les was starting to think American women's mood swings were on a par with
some Australian ones he'd come across in the past and had a feeling there wouldn't be any playing hide the saus that night when she dropped him off back at the flat. He was more than a little surprised when they pulled up and he asked her, more out of manners than anything else, if she'd like to come inside for a nightcap and she said yes.

‘So what do you feel like?' asked Les, switching on the light in the kitchen.

‘Just another vodka and OJ,' replied Lori, placing her handbag on the bar. She lifted one leg behind her and began rubbing her foot. ‘Hey, I might have to use the john.'

‘Yeah, go for your life. It's down there on the right.'

Norton started fiddling around in the kitchen, getting glasses and ice and that together. The vodka was on the shelf next to the bourbon, Les put the bottles on the bar. Lori's handbag was in the way so he moved it along a little. It wasn't all that big but the bloody thing weighed a ton. Les picked it up again and dumped it back down on the bar with a solid
clump!
What the…? He had a quick look towards the bathroom, and even though it's completely frowned upon in the best of circles, opened Lori's handbag. There was a black revolver in a black leather holster, with a black wallet next to it. Norton opened the wallet. It had a blue and silver shield on one side with a star and a building of some kind in the middle. On the other side was a photo ID, something like a New South Wales driver's licence. It said, ‘Special Agent Lori V. Benshoff. United States Department of Justice'. The hair was a little darker, the face not as made up, but it was definitely Norton's Texan girl Lori. The whacko from Waco. That was all Les needed to know. He put her bag exactly where it was, moved the bottles along and let out a long silent whistle.

There were about eight million different types of police in the United States, from county sheriffs to campus police, the FBI to the DEA and the Secret Service, who enforced everything from drugs to protecting the president. The US Department of Justice, along with the FBI, the Office of Financial Enforcement and the US Department of the
Treasury went after counterfeiters, gold smugglers, stock exchange rorters and anything to do with crimes against the American currency. It fell into place in about two seconds. Lori was an undercover agent with the Department of Justice. By sheer coincidence again he'd fluked her and she'd fluked him. His invitation to dinner was a chance for her to have a snoop around where the mob ate. Bad luck it blew up in her face when she walked in and Les introduced her to one of the bosses. Her working on some marina, that would give her a chance to watch boats coming and going. And what she knew about Ricco and Vinnie she didn't get from watching TV or reading the papers. Then there was the way she started slipping questions at Les during the meal. A sense of déjà vu? Hah! When they'd finished eating, Les was almost tempted to say he didn't wish to sign a statement without seeing his lawyer. Ricco and Vinnie were laundering money and Lori was keeping an eye on things hoping to make an arrest. Once again Les, through absolutely no fault of his own, had found himself in a potentially dodgy situation. On one hand he'd taken an undercover cop into a mob meeting place. On the other hand he'd almost blown her cover by introducing her around, and it wouldn't take her long to find out Les was no racehorse trainer. He had form back in Australia and she could make up her own mind from there what he was doing in America and how he happened to be staying in Ricco's condominium. It was indeed a dodgy situation. Not that this meant he couldn't try and pork her. If anything, it made Les more determined. He was just going to have to be very careful, that's all. Les had the drinks sitting on the bar when Lori came back and stood in front of him. Whistling softly, he concentrated for a moment on topping them up, then smiled up and pushed her vodka in front of her.

‘There you go, mate. How's that?'

Lori picked up her drink and took a sip. ‘Very nice, thank you.' She took another sip and put her glass back on the bar.

Norton clinked her glass and smiled. ‘Thank you, Lori.' He took a mouthful then put his glass back on the bar near hers. ‘No, I mean it, Lori. That was terrific of you to pick me up and drive me around tonight. I feel a bit weak not being able to take you home.'

Lori gave her head a bit of a toss. ‘Don't worry about it.'

‘Okay. But it's still not the right thing to do. Anyway, I'm here for another couple of weeks, maybe we could do it again?' Les smiled. ‘Next time I'll drive.'

‘Alright.' Lori took another sip of vodka. ‘That sounds good.'

‘Lori, that has to be the best news I've heard all night.' Lori had her hand resting on the bar. Norton picked it up and gave her fingertips a delicate but very affectionate kissing.

Lori gave a little squeal of surprise, almost as if Les had hit her funnybone, but didn't pull her hand away. ‘Ooh! You're a bit of a devil, Les.'

Norton kissed her fingers a moment or two longer, then gently placed her hand back on the bar. ‘You're right. I'm nothing but an animal,' he apologised. ‘I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself. It must have been that filthy Spanish wine. Forgive me.' Lori laughed and gave her head another toss. ‘Anyway,' said Les. ‘Are you in any hurry to get home?'

‘No… not really. But I can't stay out too late.'

‘Fair enough. Well, why don't we go into the lounge? I'll have a quick snakes myself then I'll put a tape on of some good aussie music and we'll have a mag.' Norton indicated the lounge nearest the door. ‘You sit there, and I'll sit opposite.'

Lori seemed to sum things up quickly but carefully. ‘Okay,' she said, and picked up her drink and handbag off the bar.

She put them both on the coffee table and eased comfortably down onto the lounge. While he was in the bathroom Les splashed some cold water on his face. He found a laid-back tape when he came out, slipped it into
the stereo then sat opposite Lori and took a decent pull of bourbon. Lori seemed to be checking him out pretty intently from the other side of the coffee table. Les let her go for her life as ‘Under Your Strangle Hold' by the Sidewalk Swingers cut into James Reyne's ‘Any Day Above Ground'.

‘Hey, this isn't too bad,' said Lori.

‘Bloody oath! We're talking land of the Southern Cross here, woman.'

Lori sipped her drink and moved her head easily to the music. If she was worried about anything she certainly didn't show it. Then again, what did she have to worry about? She was a cop, she had a great big gun in her bag next to her and if Les got out of line she'd pull it out and blow his head clean off his shoulders.

‘Listen, Lori,' said Les. ‘I saw you rubbing your foot earlier. Are you having trouble with your feet?'

‘Ohh, tell me about it.' Lori rolled her eyes and unconsciously grabbed her right foot. ‘They give me hell at the best of times. And last week I had to go and twist my damn ankle.'

‘Well kick your boots off, Tex, and I'll give your poor old feet a rub.'

‘You'll what?' Lori looked at Les a bit oddly.

‘No, I mean it. Come on, John Wayne. Take your boots off and I'll rub your feet for you.'

‘I don't…'

‘What are you worried about? You got something on your mind?'

‘No.'

‘Well what's up?'

‘Nothing. I…' Lori was a little hesitant, then she gave a kind of shrug. ‘Alright then. Why not?'

‘Stick your foot up on the coffee table. I'll clear the things out the road.' As Lori kicked her boots off and placed her right foot on the coffee table, Les moved the drinks, along with her handbag. He picked it up once, felt the weight, gave Lori a suspicious look then picked it up again. ‘What the…?' Lori started to come to life on the
lounge but before she had a chance Les opened up her handbag, had a quick look, then dropped it back on the coffee table with a thud. ‘There's a bloody gun in there,' Norton was horrified. ‘What the bloody hell's goin' on?'

Lori sort of glared at Les, but her cover was blown again. ‘I…'

‘Do you mean to tell me you had to bring a gun with you just to go out for dinner? Christ! This is unbelievable!' Norton's face paled; he was shocked to the core. ‘Jesus! I get away from one gun-crazy wombat and finish up with another one. Fair dinkum. Is it that bad over here that a young girl can't even go out at night without carrying a bloody great gun in her purse? This is unbelievable.'

‘Les, it's not what you think.'

‘No. I don't want to know.' Les gestured with his hands and shook his head in amazement. ‘It's just that back home we don't have people running around with guns all over the place. Not to go out for a bloody meal.' Norton sat back on the lounge, took a great mouthful of bourbon and continued to act the mug from the bush; or Australia. ‘Christ! This place is a nuthouse.'