The Mak Collection (130 page)

Mak grabbed her supplies and headed out. She cringed as she approached the car, and started it up.

I hope I don’t run into anyone I know…

Larry Moon, the owner of Thunderball, had a residence in the suburb of Essendon. It took Mak only thirty minutes to find it using the street directory. She drove past casually at first—or as casually as an orange car could—and then parked a block away from the address. The houses in the area were mostly stucco or faux Tudor, she noticed, but Larry’s was a fetching brick veneer with fancy stained-glass windows across the front. Though it was on the same size block of land as the rest, the house was huge, looking as if it might spill onto the neighbouring properties at any moment. Without fear of competition, Larry had the most grand and ostentatious home on the block. Through the slim view provided by the front gate, Mak could see that he also had a jacuzzi built onto one side of the house. She imagined him hosting bikini parties with the girls from the club. Mr Moon was making a lot more money than his employee Amy was, that much was certain.

There was movement in the yard, but Mak couldn’t make out who it was through the fence. At least someone was home. Mak
approached the house and walked up the tiled driveway to a closed front gate taller than she was, flanked by two artlessly carved stone lions. The gate was electronic, and there was an intercom video system to one side with a small round lens. A high, near-impenetrable fence encompassed the property on all sides. This guy liked his security.

Mak thought about her approach. There was some possibility that Amy would answer, but more likely it would be the club owner, Larry. With that in mind, she took off her suit jacket, slung it over one shoulder, adjusted her top and let her hair out of the ponytail.

She pressed the intercom button.

Okay, Amy. Let’s hope you’re in there…

After about a minute, during which time she heard movement in the yard, the intercom was answered. ‘Yeah,’ came a gruff voice. It certainly didn’t sound like Amy.

Mak smiled and leaned towards the round intercom video lens, which she suspected would capture her from the waist up. ‘Hi, I’m looking for Larry.’ She put her hands on her waist and flicked her hair when she spoke.

‘That’s me,’ came the voice, a lot friendlier.

‘I was hoping we could, uh, chat for a moment…’ she said, with a hint of seduction.

‘Come right in,’ the voice said almost immediately, and the gate swung open.

Yes!

Mak walked through swinging her hips. She wasn’t intending to be dishonest exactly, but she was happy for this guy to think she was there for other reasons. If it helped her get through the gate, that was just fine. She’d figured out long ago that some people were going to see her as a sex object whether she liked it or not, so she might as well use it when it came in handy. It might not seem possible now, but who knew—maybe when she was sagging and grey she might even miss the approaches of sleazy men she had endured over the years? She thought it doubtful.

Makedde walked along the driveway and stopped in her tracks beside a low, silver Maserati, dripping alluringly from a recent wash.
Nice.
She forced herself to keep moving, taking in everything she could. She noticed that the garden was brimming and well kept, with stone carvings of female nudes set into water features against the fence. The house itself looked even more surreal up close. The stained-glass detail pictured nude women variously reclining over one another or dancing through green fields with flowers in their hands and their pendulous breasts free to the wind.

She arrived at the front door.

Behind her, the gate shut again. She felt a slight ripple of panic.

The brass doorknob turned and the front door opened. An oversized figure loomed in the doorway. It must be Larry.

Larry Moon, owner of one of Melbourne’s most successful gentlemen’s clubs, answered his front door wearing a partially soaked white T-shirt stained with dirt, a pair of green gumboots and red Speedos. Mak saw the square bulge of a packet of cigarettes tucked into his rolled-up T-shirt sleeve, in the style of a young Marlon Brando. But Larry was no young Brando. He was vastly overweight, and Mak thought he looked a bit like
Hustler
’s creator Larry Flynt, only without the wheelchair.

Oh, my eyes. I think I might be scarred for life. Ugh!

Mak could not imagine any occasion for which Speedos and gumboots would be required, especially on a build like his. But she wrenched her attention away from his damp protruding stomach and the clear line of his cave-like bellybutton to look into his face, only to find that he was appraising her body right back.

‘Hi, beautiful,’ Larry said, continuing to undress her with his eyes. ‘I was just in the garden. I wasn’t expecting you.’

Ah, the garden.

‘I’m Makedde Vanderwall. May I come in for a moment?’

His eyebrows went up and he stepped back with an extravagant wave of his arm to allow her entry. ‘Certainly.’ He closed the door behind them and led her through an entry hall lit in a
strange kaleidoscope of colour from the sun streaming through stained glass. When they reached the base of a spiral staircase under a crystal chandelier, he asked, ‘How may I help such a lovely lady?’

Mak smiled with a mix of professionalism and seduction. Now that she was through the gate, there would be no more hair flicking and cleavage revealing. ‘Is Amy around?’ she asked point-blank.

Larry’s smile closed up and he narrowed his eyes.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘Larry, I’m a private investigator. I’m not a cop. I’m not with the state, or the Feds. I’m not with any collection agency,’ she reassured him. ‘I am just a private investigator trying to figure out why Amy’s friend Meaghan Wallace was murdered last week. I was hoping I could have a quick word with Amy to help my investigation. She’s not in any trouble, or wanted for any reason.’

He paused, eyes still narrowed. ‘What’s in it for you?’

‘It’s a job,’ she said simply. ‘But I have a feeling there is more to Meaghan’s death than the cops think.’

Mak wasn’t really sure what she thought, but her client clearly believed there was more to it, and she figured it sounded good to say.

Larry leaned on the banister contemplatively and reached for the packet of cigarettes tucked in his sleeve. He offered her one, and after she
declined he lit one and took a puff. Mak noticed that he had security cameras everywhere in the house, much like he did in the club. This guy was obsessed with both surveillance cameras and security, by the looks of that massive electronic front gate. Maybe he got a bulk deal on the stuff. And he was also obsessed with nudes—not particularly well-executed ones, either. There was a big bronze sculpture of a nude on a hall table next to the stairs. Instead of one of the classic poses, the female figure was on all fours, swinging a mane of hair back, face tilted up, eyes closed and mouth open, frozen in bronzed rapture. A stripper sculpture.

Classy.

More interesting to Mak, there were two pairs of women’s shoes scattered in the entrance hall: stilettos and some pink rubber thongs.

‘She got killed by some junkie last week, didn’t she?’ Larry said, smoke floating around his lips.

So Amy has mentioned it to him.

‘It looks like that might be the case. Maybe…’ Mak allowed room for doubt in her tone. ‘Do you remember Meaghan at all? She worked for you for a while.’

‘Vaguely.’

‘It was a few years ago, I believe,’ Mak said, hoping to refresh his memory.

‘Yeah. She was cute. Blonde, right? Petite. Tight body. She went up to Queensland to dance
at Trinity for a while, then back to Sydney. We didn’t have her for long.’

Mak remembered the T-shirt.
Trinity is a club.

She nodded. Standing there in his Speedos, puffing on a cigarette, Mak could see that Larry was not a man who was intimidated by women. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t allow himself to be manipulated by them. Mak guessed that he had been influenced to do a lot of things by a lot of different beautiful girls in his life, but when their use-by date was up, it was up. From the way he was looking at her, Mak hadn’t reached his perceived use-by date quite yet.

‘She was a lovely person, by all accounts,’ Mak said, turning up the charm a notch. ‘You didn’t keep in touch with Meaghan after she left?’

‘Me? Nah. Lots of girls come and work for me,’ he said offhandedly. She believed him. ‘What do you want with Amy?’ he asked protectively, with the tiniest level of concern in his voice.

Although Larry seemingly found Mak’s presence unthreatening, it was noteworthy to Mak that he still hadn’t invited her to sit down. They were stuck there at the base of his staircase, chatting in short, guarded sentences. There had to be a reason. Mak’s best guess was that Amy was home, and she explicitly did not want any visitors. Larry was protecting her.

‘I think Amy might be able to help shed some light on things. They were close friends. I just want to talk with her a bit. I want to learn the
truth about Meaghan. Meaghan’s mother didn’t know much about her life or the people in it.’

Mak heard a creak at the top of the staircase and she looked up. A shadow flitted across the wall.

Hello, Amy.

‘I’m not here trying to force anyone into anything,’ Mak continued. ‘I’m no cop. I just want to find out the truth. I want to find out whether there is more to this murder than meets the eye, and I suspect there might be. I think Amy could have something very valuable to add.’ Mak deliberately spoke the words a touch louder, hoping to appeal to eavesdropping Amy.

‘What the hell is a girl like you doing working as a private dick?’ Larry asked with a tone of incredulity, changing the subject completely.

‘I’m no dick,’ Mak retorted, frustrated that he’d closed off the conversation.

He chuckled at her response. ‘
I’m no dick
…I like that.’ He took a puff. ‘You seem like a smart girl. Why waste your time sniffing around like a dog in other people’s affairs, when you could make some good cash using the body God gave you? Why don’t you come work for me? You’ve got the goods.’

‘You’ve got the goods.’
Did that line usually work for him?

‘Thanks,’ she said, and smiled. She wanted to leave it at that.

‘No, really,’ he pressed. ‘Guys really go for
your type. Tall, blonde, busty. Long legs. You’d clean up.’

‘Thanks, really, I appreciate the compliment, but right now I’m more interested in having a chat with Amy. Would that be okay?’

‘She’s not here,’ he said, looking away. He was lying.

Mak nodded. ‘I see. That’s fine. Why don’t I leave you my card, and when you see Amy next, you just let her know I dropped by.’ She took out a card and scribbled her mobile number on the back before passing it to Larry. ‘This is my
private
number.’ She said the words loudly, so Amy could hear.

Larry, of course, took it the wrong way.

‘Marian Wendell Investigations,’ he read off the card. ‘How much they pay you?’

‘Not enough,’ Mak answered.

‘My girls can make five hundred…fifteen hundred in a night. Cash. Just dancing. Nothing else. You should think about it. You’d have a good future.’

Just dancing, huh? So why is Amy here in your house then?

‘That’s an interesting proposition, Mr Moon,’ she told him, smiling. ‘I’ll know who to call if I run out of investigations.’

Larry took a few steps towards the front door and leaned on a fake Roman pillar, putting himself between her and the door. He took another puff.

‘So Amy’s not around, then?’ Mak asked again, knowing that the girl was there somewhere, listening.

‘Nope,’ he lied again.

Bullshit.

‘Okay,’ Mak said, giving in for the moment. ‘There’s no pressure. But if you remember anything about Meaghan Wallace, you’ll give me a call? It would be really helpful.’

‘Oh, I’ll call you.’

Mak smirked.

Larry opened the door again and she walked out past the Maserati and the garden nudes. The gate opened magically, and she felt some relief at being outside his lair.

Mak’s mobile phone rang as she started the car up. It gave her a fright. Could Amy be calling her so quickly? That would be a lucky break, and just what she needed to get back to Sydney on time with something helpful to go on.

‘Hello?’

‘Mak, sweetheart!’

‘Hi, Loulou. How are you?’
Damn.
It wasn’t Amy at all. ‘Thanks for having me over for dinner last night. It was good to meet Drayson. He is…’ Mak searched for an honest but kind description of Drayson.
‘He has good taste in some of his friends’?

‘Why didn’t you let me come with you?’ Loulou blurted.

‘What?’

‘You partied with Bogey at Thunderball last night. Why didn’t you let me come along?’ she said.

‘No, no, Loulou, you have the wrong idea. We weren’t partying. It was work. I had a job to do, some investigation stuff. Bogey just got mixed up in it because I was going to be hassled too much by the men in there if I didn’t come in with a boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘
Awwww
,’ Loulou whined. ‘I want you to use
me
in one of your investigations. I want to be on the job with a private eye. I could be your bodyguard!’

Mak rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not like that. It was just an unusual circumstance that came up. Why, what did Bogey tell you?’

‘Oh, he didn’t tell me anything. He told Drayson that you wanted to be dropped off at Thunderball, and that he came in for a drink to make sure you were all right.’

Good man.

‘That’s all he said?’ Mak asked, impressed.

‘Yeah, why? Is there more?’

‘No, it’s just that I got my first lap dance while trying to get information out of one of the girls.’

‘Oh my God!’

Mak started laughing. ‘It was pretty funny, actually.’

‘So can you come over? I wanna hear all about last night! You can’t keep anything from me. Fess up!’