ThornyDevils (38 page)

‘It’s them isn’t it?’

‘Possibly.’

Two men and a woman came out of the shed to watch the two security men remove cartons from the truck and carry them into the shed. They were clearly in a hurry.

Sam insisted, ‘It’s them.’

‘I’ll check.’ Dave pushed his camera with zoom lens attached out of the open window and peered through it. He fiddled with the lens.

‘Is it them?’ Sam asked impatiently. ‘Is it them?’

‘You’re right, Sam,’ Dave replied as he lowered the camera. ‘You’re right. It’s McCracken, Donarto and…’ He paused. ‘Poppy. They look pretty concerned about that shipment of stereos. But I think it’s more than stereos.’ He took a deep breath. ‘What’s Poppy doing there?’

‘My hunch was right,’ Sam smiled. ‘We have to tell Peter right away. I knew that bloody girlfriend of his was crook.’

Dave held the camera up to his face again. ‘I’ll get a photo of them. I’ll use a long exposure. Hope I won’t need a flash,’ Dave stated as he
adjusted the camera. ‘And there’s that bald bloke from the shop who yelled at the salesman. He’s come into the picture.’

‘Get the photo,’ urged Sam. ‘We have to tell Peter right away.’

‘Okay. Closer. Closer for the group photo. Gotcha!’ Dave clicked off a series of shots then threw the camera into the back seat. ‘Quick. The bald bloke might have noticed us. He’s looking this way. Buckle up.’

Dave started the car and moved away slowly as the bald man kept watching. He didn’t want to display any urgency.

‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone following us,’ Sam commented as he turned around to look out of the rear window.

‘Good,’ Dave exhaled. ‘We were lucky there.’

‘We’ve got to get to Peter,’ Sam said. ‘He said something about missing Poppy. Do you know where she lives?’

‘Not a clue,’ Dave replied. ‘All he’s ever told me is that she lives in South Yarra.’

‘Bloody great. We better get back to his flat. He could be home.’

‘Yeah, all right. It’s as good a place to start looking as anywhere, I suppose.’ Dave was turning towards Bell Street when the Ford began to splutter. ‘What the?’ he muttered. The engine cut out and the Ford coasted to a stop.

‘Sounds like maybe you ran out of petrol,’ suggested Sam.

‘No, the gauge shows three-quarters full.’ Dave flicked it with his finger. It dropped to E and stayed there. ‘Shit!’

‘I saw a petrol station about a mile or so back,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll have to walk there.’

‘What about Peter?’

‘He’ll just have to be cautious until we find him. You think his life’s in danger?’ he asked.

‘Peter’s life is always in danger.’

It was an hour before Dave stopped the Ford in front of Peter’s flat. Sam hurried to the laneway where Peter usually parked the Stag and was buoyed to see it in position. He signalled Dave to stay in the Ford while he checked the flat. He took the key from under the mat and went in. Peter wasn’t there. Apart from a jumble of clothes on the bed, nothing had been touched.

‘He’s not home. Bloody hell,’ Sam puffed as he got back into the Ford.

‘We’re stumped,’ Dave stated. ‘I don’t know where else to turn.’

‘Stupid bugger should have stuck to the sleaze stories. This sort of stuff can get you killed.’

‘We could wait,’ Dave suggested. ‘Or go to the Tote? Or he might have popped out.’ He was still thinking when the door to the Apollo Café slid open and Con emerged, wearing an apron and gloves, and approached the car. Sam wound down his window.

‘You looking for Peter?’ Con asked as he removed the gloves.

‘Sure are.’

Con leaned against the car door. ‘I was cleaning the shop when Peter’s girlfriend, Popitsa, pull up.’

‘You mean Poppy,’ Dave corrected.

‘Yes, her,’ Con continued. ‘She pull up here in a beautiful sport car and Peter come down. I come outside to look at the car. I say hello to Poppy and she say nothing, like she never seen me before. Anyway, Peter gets in her car. He carry a bag.’

‘Did he say where they were going?’ Dave asked urgently.

‘He was very happy. He joke that he was going away to get filthy on the weekend, but I don’t understand. Is not the weekend. He was happy to go away to work?’

‘Did he say a dirty weekend, maybe?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Did he tell you where he was going? Any address?’

‘He said they go away to Poppy’s farm.’

‘Yes, but where? Did he tell you where, Con?’ asked Dave.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

Sam’s face fell. He began to wind up the window.

‘No, wait,’ said Con. ‘I remember. I remember now, because I go there once to buy some grapes to make my special wine. He said they go to the Yarra Valley.’

‘That’s it?’ Dave asked.

‘The Yarra Valley. Yes,’ Con answered.

‘What now?’ Sam asked Dave.

‘We’re stumped again. Maybe it’s in the phone book.’

‘We can check.’

‘Is everything okay?’ Con asked, ‘This filthy work, is dangerous?’

‘This dirty weekend could be, Con.’

‘This is the life of decadence,’ Peter stretched his naked frame out on a rug between Poppy and a blazing log fire. He took a drink from the wine glass that he had perched on the coffee table. After returning it, he caressed Poppy’s face. She lay on her back with her eyes closed.

‘Drinking wine. Lying next to a beautiful woman on a rug. A fire to keep our naked bodies warm. I’m about to make love. Does life get any better than this?’

‘Are you just going to talk about it or are you going to do something about it?’ She took hold of Peter’s neck with both hands and pulled him towards her. ‘Or maybe you get off just writing about sleaze and sex.’ She kissed him briefly on the mouth and felt for his erection. ‘Practise what you preach, mister.’ She began to stroke him.

‘That’s so nice. I really don’t fucking know or care,’ Peter moaned. ‘So good with your hands.’

‘Do you get that hard when you write your salacious stories?’ She smiled as she continued to stroke him. ‘Writing about sex all day must keep you aroused. Must be embarrassing to have an erection while you’re working.’

‘Only when I did a story about drug crazed prostitutes,’ he joked, pulling away. ‘They turn me on so much. I couldn’t leave the typewriter alone for hours.’

‘Sick, sick man,’ Poppy playfully smacked Peter on the face. ‘You talk too much. How about helping yourself to my body, you filthy man?’ She lay back on the rug and parted her legs. ‘Help yourself,’ she whispered. ‘I’m yours.’

‘Don’t you want to take charge and tie me down? I may lose control of myself.’

‘I’m giving you permission,’ Poppy said as she stroked herself. ‘I want you to take me. I’m your present. Au naturel. You’re in control now.’

‘I want you so much it hurts.’ He eased himself on top of Poppy and pushed her legs wider apart. She gasped as he entered her.

‘Fuck me hard, Peter. Fuck me,’ Poppy cried. ‘Fuck me!’

Peter closed his eyes and slid slowly in and out of her, varying the pace and rhythm, conscious that he didn’t want to orgasm or have Poppy orgasm for as long as possible. Poppy’s cries grew louder, as if she was going to climax.
Not now. Let’s come together. How intense will that be. Now that would be a petite mort.
‘You’re so beautiful Poppy,’ he murmured, elevated to another level of pleasure. ‘I want you so much. I lo…’ He looked into Poppy’s face. Her eyes were wide open as she moaned and cried. She seemed to be looking in the distance, at something on the ceiling. She was somewhere else. ‘You okay?’ Peter asked as he slowed his thrusts.

‘I was…I was…dreaming of doing this forever,’ she stammered as she shut her eyes and held tightly onto his shoulders.

***

‘So you want to report that your friend’s in danger?’ the police officer yawned as he leant across the counter at the Russell Street Police Headquarters to fix a closer gaze on Dave and then Sam. He was a grizzled, middle-aged man and had probably last looked concerned many years ago. They had finally got to see a police officer after waiting for sixty crucial minutes. It wasn’t too long before they felt they were wasting their time. It was etched all over the face of Sergeant Hausler. There was a steady stream of characters, lowlife and oddballs in and out. Uniformed police and detectives rushed about, shuffling papers, looking busy, interviewing criminals and victims of crime at their desks. It looked like it operated on chaos theory.

‘We think his life’s in danger,’ Dave exclaimed. ‘He’s missing.’

‘Let me see if I’ve got it straight. The last time you heard anything about him was tonight when he was going away on a weekend with his girlfriend.’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay,’ Sergeant Hausler straightened up and took a deep breath, ‘this Peter Clancy went away with his girlfriend. How the bloody
hell is he in danger? You know who he has gone with and you know roughly where’s he’s gone. So he hasn’t gone missing. I wouldn’t bloody mind going missing like that. The missus might get upset about it, though,’ he chuckled.

‘Peter Clancy is a journalist at
The Truth
,’ Dave explained. ‘He uncovered a drug importation business while doing one of his stories. There are some big players in it. He doesn’t know it, but the girl he’s been seeing, Poppy Reynolds, is involved. She could be taking him away to have him killed.’

‘Peter Clancy,’ Sergeant Hausler scratched his chin. ‘I’ve heard of him. Sounds like one of those bloody journalists who can’t keep his nose out of trouble.’

‘His life is at risk,’ Dave pleaded. ‘You’ve got to believe us. I was a cop up in Queensland for ten years. I know what I’m talking about.’

‘Not what I’ve heard,’ Sergeant Hausler laughed. ‘It sounds like the Keystone bloody Cops up there.’

‘Can you do anything?’ Sam asked. ‘Or are we wasting our time?’

‘Well, you can fill out a form.’ Sergeant Hausler shoved a form in Sam’s direction.’ And if you haven’t heard from Mister Clancy in a day or two, we’ll go and have a look for him. How about that?’

‘Great,’ Dave grabbed the form. ‘He could be lying cold in a shallow grave by then.’

‘Well, the quicker you fill out the form the sooner we can look for him. Next.’

‘Why even bloody bother,’ Sam grumbled. ‘Cops never listen.’

‘We could get
The Truth
to print that Peter is missing,’ Dave suggested. ‘Someone might see it out there and ring the cops.’

‘That won’t happen until tomorrow.’

‘I don’t know what else to do.’

‘Let’s go home,’ Sam said. ‘We have to hope that he’ll be all right and we’ve overreacted.’

They headed to the door dodging a young man with a torn, bloodied shirt, accompanied by his crying girlfriend. They burst through the door and rushed to the counter.

‘Help,’ the girl screamed as she held on to her boyfriend’s arm, ‘me boyfriend’s been assaulted.’

‘Take him to an emergency department, miss,’ Sergeant Hausler said dryly from behind the counter. ‘This isn’t a hospital.’

‘You’ve got to help him,’ the girlfriend pleaded.

‘You’ll have to wait,’ Hausler replied.

‘Fuck this. Useless copper pricks,’ the girlfriend yelled as she pulled her dazed boyfriend around and headed back through the exit door.

‘Another happy customer?’ Sam chuckled. They headed for the same door but stopped in their tracks when a familiar name was announced.

‘Peter Clancy?’ a deep, only barely female voice called behind them. Sam and Dave turned in near unison to see a tall, well-built woman. She appeared to be in her thirties.

‘We’re his friends, Sam Clancy and Dave Tindall. Do you know Peter?’ Dave asked.

‘I know all of you.’ Dave looked startled. ‘The docks? Who’d you reckon sorted out most of the paperwork? I’m Viv Jenner,’ the woman said as she held up her badge. ‘Detective Jenner.’

‘You don’t look like a copper,’ Sam observed as he looked Jenner up and down. ‘You don’t look male enough.’

‘Yeah? I hear that a lot,’ Jenner grinned slightly. ‘I may be able to help you with your friend Peter Clancy.’

‘You can?’ Dave said. ‘We were ready to give up.’

‘Follow me.’ Jenner gestured for them to follow her out of the front door.

‘Don’t you want to talk to us in an interview room?’ Dave queried as they walked up the road and turned into Mackenzie Street.

‘More comfortable in my car,’ Jenner replied as she walked briskly towards a Ford Falcon. She opened the driver’s door, hopped in then unlocked the doors, telling the men to get in. She turned on the heater and rubbed her hands. ‘Sorry about this,’ she said. ‘We’ll be able to speak more freely out here. Hopefully this heater should kick in soon.’

‘We’re trying to find Peter. I don’t know if we have a lot of time. He went away with his girlfriend, Poppy Reynolds, tonight,’ Dave interjected. ‘Maybe you’ve heard of her?’

‘We think his life is in danger,’ Sam added as he leaned between the bucket seats. ‘Seems that Poppy Reynolds is involved in importing drugs with some crim blokes. Peter doesn’t know it. Dave and I saw something fishy going on tonight at a stereo shop in Coburg.’

‘You mean Sounds Alive?’ said Jenner. Sam nodded.

Right,’ she continued, picking her words carefully. ‘I can’t say very
much, but I think you might have stumbled across something.’ She turned down the heater. ‘I have to be careful with what I tell you, but we’ve been watching the same shop.’

‘I don’t understand why this Poppy would get involved,’ Sam pondered, ‘She’s got a good job and she’s a looker.’

Jenner looked shrewdly at the pair. ‘You asked me before if I’d heard of Poppy Reynolds. I know her. I know all about her. Poppy’s pretty on the outside but she’s all about reinvention. Pretty Poppy used to be a high-class hooker, straight out of a posh private school. Called herself Peach in those days. She was an escort, on the arm of whichever low-life, cashed-up hit man or minor celebrity was willing to pay a thousand for the night. Then suddenly she gave it all up to go to university and study law. Peter Clancy’s a pretty boy, but I seriously doubt she’d be dating him for his looks.’

‘Why haven’t the police done anything about these people? They went all out to get the O’Learys,’ Dave commented.

‘Look, this is awkward, but I already know a bit about you two and I reckon I can trust you.’ Jenner lowered her voice. ‘How do I put this? There are police officers and prominent people like McCracken and Donarto involved in this and I’ve had to tread very carefully. I have been stalled at every turn…’