cab I saw the 600 bus lumber toward Elwood and ran to the next stop, hailed it and jumped on.
So much for a benevolent PI-protecting deity. My sleeve was stretched into a gorilla arm and the cops were on my tail.
And then I thought, how the hell did Emery know I was in his garage?
I changed buses in St Kilda for the 246 to Richmond. As we rumbled up Punt Road I tried Tamara’s phone and my heart sank. There was a bit of charge left, but it was asking me for a PIN number. How could I have been so stupid? I’d risked my licence and livelihood for nothing. I almost burst into tears, but breathed deeply and talked myself down. Phones were stolen and rebirthed all the time. There had to be someone in this town who could unlock the damn thing for me.
Vincent’s place was off Bridge Road on a street full of freshly painted workers’ cottages with neat little gardens. Until you got to his house. It was twice the size of the others, rendered in a white pebbly substance, with Corinthian columns supporting the porch roof. Orange tiles blanketed the front yard and two concrete lions guarded the steps.
Vincent answered the door wearing slacks, slippers and a patterned jumper he must have stolen from Bill Cosby back in the eighties. He clasped my hand in both of his and motioned for me to follow as he waddled down a hall full of fussy, gilt edged antiques. The patio at the back of the house looked out onto a garden with fruit trees and vegetables planted in neat rows.
Grapevines twined the fence and a white rabbit nibbled on a celery stick in a wood and wire hutch.
I sat opposite him at a white wrought iron outdoor setting.
‘Great garden. ‘We’d had a big vege patch when I was growing up but you didn’t see many in the inner city.
‘It gives me great pleasure. Coffee?’
‘Black, please.’
He shuffled off to the kitchen and returned with a silver percolator, espresso cups and a plate of biscotti. He poured coffee and the cup and saucer rattled as he passed it over.
He stared at me. ‘Your face?’
I’d checked my makeup on the bus. Purple bruises showed through the foundation, but my lips had deflated. Pity. I’d liked my Hollywood pout.
‘Ran into a door,’ I said and changed the subject. ‘You may be right about Tammy. There’s definitely something going on.’
He tonged four lumps of sugar into his tiny cup and stirred.
‘Neville?’
‘Craig, a woman named Wu Chan and he are setting up an illegal brothel and flying in women from China. Tammy may have known about it and tried to get money from them in return for keeping quiet. Would she do something like that?’ I took a sliver of biscotti just to be polite, bit off a fragment and sipped the espresso. It dissolved on my tongue in a nutty, sugary mess. Divine.
He shrugged. ‘She always need money. Ask me to loan two hundred thousand.’
‘Two hundred grand ? What for?’
‘To buy apartment. Too much. I could not give. You tell police about Neville?’ His hands shook as he lifted his cup.
‘Yep. They’re going to follow them from Tullamarine on Wednesday. Get evidence and make the bust.’
‘You know Neville kill Tammy?’
‘No, I don’t. I have no proof she was blackmailing him and I just can’t see how someone would have got into her flat.’
‘Is something he could do. Is clever. And evil.’
‘Don’t like him much, do you?’
He drained his coffee, ambled over to the hutch and pulled out the rabbit. He held it close to his chest and stroked the fur between its ears. ‘Twenty years ago my son, Paolo, is involved with Neville, bringing in the drugs from Thailand. My wife and I, we know nothing until we see him captured on the television.’
‘Busted in Bangkok?’
He nodded. ‘Neville tell Thai police Paolo have drugs.’
‘Why the hell would he do that?’
‘So others with large amounts get through.’
‘What happened to your son?’
‘Sentenced, twenty years. He die in prison after ten.’
‘I’m
So much for a benevolent PI-protecting deity. My sleeve was stretched into a gorilla arm and the cops were on my tail.
And then I thought, how the hell did Emery know I was in his garage?
I changed buses in St Kilda for the 246 to Richmond. As we rumbled up Punt Road I tried Tamara’s phone and my heart sank. There was a bit of charge left, but it was asking me for a PIN number. How could I have been so stupid? I’d risked my licence and livelihood for nothing. I almost burst into tears, but breathed deeply and talked myself down. Phones were stolen and rebirthed all the time. There had to be someone in this town who could unlock the damn thing for me.
Vincent’s place was off Bridge Road on a street full of freshly painted workers’ cottages with neat little gardens. Until you got to his house. It was twice the size of the others, rendered in a white pebbly substance, with Corinthian columns supporting the porch roof. Orange tiles blanketed the front yard and two concrete lions guarded the steps.
Vincent answered the door wearing slacks, slippers and a patterned jumper he must have stolen from Bill Cosby back in the eighties. He clasped my hand in both of his and motioned for me to follow as he waddled down a hall full of fussy, gilt edged antiques. The patio at the back of the house looked out onto a garden with fruit trees and vegetables planted in neat rows.
Grapevines twined the fence and a white rabbit nibbled on a celery stick in a wood and wire hutch.
I sat opposite him at a white wrought iron outdoor setting.
‘Great garden. ‘We’d had a big vege patch when I was growing up but you didn’t see many in the inner city.
‘It gives me great pleasure. Coffee?’
‘Black, please.’
He shuffled off to the kitchen and returned with a silver percolator, espresso cups and a plate of biscotti. He poured coffee and the cup and saucer rattled as he passed it over.
He stared at me. ‘Your face?’
I’d checked my makeup on the bus. Purple bruises showed through the foundation, but my lips had deflated. Pity. I’d liked my Hollywood pout.
‘Ran into a door,’ I said and changed the subject. ‘You may be right about Tammy. There’s definitely something going on.’
He tonged four lumps of sugar into his tiny cup and stirred.
‘Neville?’
‘Craig, a woman named Wu Chan and he are setting up an illegal brothel and flying in women from China. Tammy may have known about it and tried to get money from them in return for keeping quiet. Would she do something like that?’ I took a sliver of biscotti just to be polite, bit off a fragment and sipped the espresso. It dissolved on my tongue in a nutty, sugary mess. Divine.
He shrugged. ‘She always need money. Ask me to loan two hundred thousand.’
‘Two hundred grand ? What for?’
‘To buy apartment. Too much. I could not give. You tell police about Neville?’ His hands shook as he lifted his cup.
‘Yep. They’re going to follow them from Tullamarine on Wednesday. Get evidence and make the bust.’
‘You know Neville kill Tammy?’
‘No, I don’t. I have no proof she was blackmailing him and I just can’t see how someone would have got into her flat.’
‘Is something he could do. Is clever. And evil.’
‘Don’t like him much, do you?’
He drained his coffee, ambled over to the hutch and pulled out the rabbit. He held it close to his chest and stroked the fur between its ears. ‘Twenty years ago my son, Paolo, is involved with Neville, bringing in the drugs from Thailand. My wife and I, we know nothing until we see him captured on the television.’
‘Busted in Bangkok?’
He nodded. ‘Neville tell Thai police Paolo have drugs.’
‘Why the hell would he do that?’
‘So others with large amounts get through.’
‘What happened to your son?’
‘Sentenced, twenty years. He die in prison after ten.’
‘I’m
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