Mick showed little gratitude for his improved social prospects and the police officer remembered him as being surly every time he saw him. Eventually the copper didn’t need the ingratitude and stopped visiting. But not before he found more puzzling aspects to the death.
Mick often used his forged medical certificates on a Monday afternoon when the Beenleigh dogs were on. His schoolmates said he sometimes went one better. He had the hide to feign sickness before lunch, go down the local café for an ice cream, return to school with a med cert he had forged that morning and go home to meet his Dad for their day at the dog races.
Mr Clarence tolerated his son’s ruses because Mick had an uncanny knack of going through the race book, scribbling numbers in the margins and picking dogs which went on to win, often at good prices. Mick’s Dad loved it when, on rare occasions, his son declared for one of their own dogs, which invariably won.
The day he died, Mr Clarence promised to take Mick to the track, but changed his mind at the last moment. Mick’s last words to his father were to call him a liar and a welcher for not taking him to the Beenleigh dogs.
No one ever found out what happened to the two dogs Clarence took to the track that day, because they were not in the back of the station wagon. The investigating police officer figured Mick’s Dad, their owner-trainer, had given them away, and they probably wound up racing under new names and false registrations. The copper’s reports were not complicated by any mention of missing dogs.
I thanked Schmidt for the information and gave him some parting words of wisdom. ‘Greyhound racing is a mug’s game.’
He nodded in silent agreement as he walked across the yard. Then he turned around. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said. I refrained from repeating Mick’s other favourite saying, which I had delivered under my breath.
Adults are fucked.
46
A BATTERED DARK GREEN HOLDEN V8 was parked along Nudgee Road, 200 metres from the Feed Bin café, and I pulled in behind it.
The previous day I had put in my annual application to be reinstated to all racecourses across Australia. I had woken in the middle of the night with an inspiration. As keen as anything to start a new year fresh, I always put in my application to re-join the racing fraternity in January. In 1992, I realised I was playing a mug’s game. If I put the application in during November, by the time the final verdict came down, it would be near Christmas, the season of goodwill and Christmas parties, the time for all good prodigal sons and true to come to the aid of horse racing’s just cause. With my new strategy, I had to be a shoo-in, and I whistled on my way to the Feed Bin.
Billy Scharfe was hunched over a cup of coffee in the corner. His eyes darted from side to side, but never beyond his table, as if he feared to look up. For a jockey in his early twenties, his face was thin and lined like a hoop twenty years older, who had seen the inside of too many saunas. I was thinking of sitting beside him, but decided the table was already crowded with his personal demons. Instead I walked past on my way to order coffee, toast and a newspaper, and whispered in his direction.
‘Nice driving last month along Sir Fred Schonell Drive. You’d get beaten on Phar Lap if you rode like that, Billy.’
To his credit, Scharfe pretended he didn’t hear me and focussed his vision into his half-empty coffee cup. I had no follow-up line, so I let him be. Billy’s riding career was all but over. The word was about that he was “bad news”, though no one could agree why it was so.
Billy was never very bright, but he tried to please, putting all the contradictory advice he received into practice as best he could. He was never supposed to run me down outside the Avalon Theatre, but he was supposed to make me think his intentions were bad. Like most projects he touched, he stuffed the whole thing up good and proper. The Billy Scharfes of this world will always end up doing the bidding of the unscrupulous. The Billy Scharfes need a truckload of luck to survive with their dignity. That much luck is not out there.
The daily paper had some good news on page seven. Brisbane lawyer Jim Mecklam, who had gone back into private practice after years in the corporate sector, was caught diddling his clients’ trust accounts to the tune of a quarter of a mill. Former prominent racehorse owner Mecklam was suspended from practising law, but strenuously denied any impropriety. He engaged a leading Queen’s Counsel to process his defence, as well as his bankruptcy and divorce proceedings.
My money was on Mecklam to come out of it with a wad of cash, but I wouldn’t want to be waiting in line with his wife Prue, the trainers he owed or even his Queen’s Counsel, looking for a share of it.
I flicked aimlessly through the sports pages, declined a second cuppa and left.
As I took in the pleasant but heavy morning air outside the café, I couldn’t fail to notice Crystal Speares in white jeans and a tight white T-shirt, as she smoked a fag beside her red Mercedes Sports. She pretended she was waiting for someone and ignored me when I walked alongside. As you did, I wondered if she and Billy Scharfe were fucking. It would be a stranger-than-fiction reality. They do happen.
I played it cool and nudged Crystal gently with my elbow as I passed.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said as she stubbed out the cigarette under the edge of one of her expensive running shoes.
I kept walking and the blonde beauty told me to wait.
‘Hold up, Steele,’ she said. ‘I admit I’ve been waiting for you.’
She slid into the driver’s seat of the red Mercedes and invited me to sit beside her.
‘You gotta hear this, Steele. I’ve hooked up with this preacher,’ Crystal said, as she hopped out of the car and caught up with me. ‘There’s squillions in it.’
I stopped and faced the blonde. She had my attention now.
‘They fleece fucking hundreds of these rich dumb marks at their weekly prayer meets. I didn’t believe it myself until this preacher Ralph dragged me along to one of his gigs.’
‘His name’s Ralph?’
‘That’s his real name, not his stage name. I met him at an Ascot dinner party and we got chatting. Dead set, this bloke owns three Rolls-Royces. They’re all over ten years old, but they’re still fucking Rollers. After the dinner that night, we ended up banging in the back seat of the Roller he’d brought to the do. Dead set, just as he was about to come, he screamed, ‘Praise the Lord.’
I had lost interest and kept walking, but Crystal ran after me to tug the sleeve of my T-shirt. ‘Shit, Steele, these bastards are deadset babies. We can take them for everything. I know you like me, Steele. We can do this together. Whaddya say?’
Looking into the pale, infantine and slowly lining face of the most beautiful woman I had seen in my life, I gave way at the knees.
Here was something I didn't want to tangle with, something that could bring my whole world crashing down.
I ran.
Glossary of Australian slang
THIS GLOSSARY of Australian slang is necessarily partial as it comprises words and phrases used in the novel.
Many good slang dictionaries use a similar methodology by tracing the oral slang term to its early uses in fiction. Doubtless some slang has written sources conquered by the oral idiom. When you Google ‘not the brightest light on the Ferris wheel of life’ you will see I have created a new slang expression in Iraqi Icicle. It combines the notions of the merry-go-round of life and ‘not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree/ in the shed.’
You may note that ‘brightest bulb in the shed’ and ‘sharpest tool in the shed’ are interchangeable’ while ‘the lights are on but nobody’s home’ means roughly’ the same thing. Slang, a living language, is constantly borrowing from itself and external sources to remain fresh and attractive.
In these days of globalisation, a decreasing number of the words are uniquely Australian. International trade in slang replenishes idioms around the world.
Akay: the Australian version of okay. See awlright.
Al capone:
phone (rhyming slang).
All over bar the shouting: The outcome of an event is obvious before the finish.
Ambo: ambulance officer, paramedic.
Arse: the Australian version of ass as in posterior, not donkey. A smart-arse is the neo-noir equivalent to the classical wise-cracking PI. Other uses are arsey as in lucky (hence ‘more arse than class’) get your arse into gear, and ugly as a hatful of arseholes.
Awlright: how many Australians pronounce all right as one word. Awlright has the same versatility as the American okay which, when Australians use it, invariably comes out as akay.
Bag of fruit: suit (rhyming slang). My Irish editor (G’day Eoin) tells me the expression is ‘tin of fruit’ in his homeland. One of the benefits of life in Australia is year-round access to reasonably priced fresh fruit which you put into bags rather than take from tins. I should say, at this stage, that, whether by good intent or good luck, some of the best slang is mellifluous and image provoking. A bag of fruit has lumps and protrusions like the human body. Lumps and protrusions in the human body – doesn’t that sound sexy?
Bar of soap, not know from: The incongruous expression ‘not know her/him from a bar of soap’ appeals because of that very incongruity.
Batty: crazy.
Belly-up: kaput, bankrupt or dead. The image I have is of a dead fish floating.
Bikies: Australian for bikers
Billy-o: the max, completely. Steele says, at one stage, his confidence is shot to billy-o.
Blower: phone. I have yet to find a convincing explanation of the origin of the word blower.
Blue: an argument. Capitalised it is the perverse nickname for a person, usually a man, with red hair.
Bodgie: false, dishonest. Male and female bikies of the 1950s were called bodgies and widgies so there is probably a connection there. The word also rhymes with dodgy.
Bookie: a bookmaker who takes bets and records them on a large ledger (his book).
Brought down to earth: disabused of notions of privilege.
Brown bread: dead (rhyming slang).
Brumby: wild horse, bronco.
Bugs Bunny: money (rhyming slang).
Bum a lift: Ask to ride in someone else’s car.
Bush, the: rural Australia most of which is not over-endowed with the vegetation that gives it its nickname.
Butcher’s hook: look (rhyming slang).
Cheap thrills: hallucinogenic mushrooms.
Chief Steward: the head of the horse-racing ‘police’.
Come good: to fulfil a promise.
Crim: criminal.
Cut each other’s throats: What two jockeys metaphorically do when they allow their horses to engage in a speed battle which ruins both their chances.
Dead cert: a curious expression for predicting a certainty, a horse which will win for sure. As it is a prediction, a dead cert sometimes comes last.
Deadset: utterly, completely.
Dee: detective. As detectives usually travel in pairs, it is most commonly used in the plural. The derivation of the slang word is obvious enough.
Dirty (filthy) on someone: mad at or annoyed with someone, hence a dirty look. Filthy became a positive by 1990 among the grunge and hardcore sets.
Dish-licker: a racing greyhound, for obvious reasons.
Dob someone in: Report someone to authority. See ‘give someone up’.
Dog and bone: phone (rhyming slang).
Dole: unemployment benefits, social-security payments. English reggae band UB 40 derived their band name from an unemployment benefit form.
Dough: money.
Dud someone: cheat.
Duffer: a racehorse incompetent in some circumstances, hence a wet-track duffer, a track-work duffer. A duffer is also a cattle rustler.
Fair enough: This expression, often a question, and ‘can’t be any fairer than that’ imply that utter fairness is unobtainable.
Farfetched: implausible.
Filthy: extremely, as in filthy rich. See ‘dirty’ for other meaning.
Fleeced: relieved of money. The story goes Australia rode to prosperity on a sheep’s back but the metaphor fleeced seems to look at it from the sheep’s POV.
Flicks: movies, perhaps named after the flickering at the beginning and end of motion picture reels which made the magic happen in the old days.
Fluke: be lucky in achieving a goal (verb and noun). That shot was a fluke. She fluked it.
Form guide: a newspaper lift-out, detailing the form of racehorses competing at a meeting which is held not in a boardroom but on a track where the equines race, usually on turf in Australia.
Gallopers: thoroughbred racehorses.
Geezer: English bloke.
Give it a swerve: Decide not to go somewhere.
Give someone up: Report someone to authority or dob them in.
Glitterati: the party crowd.
Godbotherer: Someone who is ostentatiously religious as opposed to a person who keeps their faith to themselves.
Good oil: reliable information not in general circulation, hence a racehorse tip.
Grasshoppers: Rhyming slang for coppers. I somewhat recently heard a young man refer to police as grassies. I would bet the house the modern word derives from grasshoppers and I wonder if contemporary users are aware of that.
Grub: despicable person, criminal (police slang).
Hammer: heroin, an international rather than Australian slang word. As discussed in the novel, Grant McLennan swore the song Hammer the Hammer was not about heroin. Not many among the in-crowd believed him.
Hang on: that doesn’t sound right (interjection).
Hardly say boo: To be quiet in a social situation or to ignore someone.
Have a go: gamble heavily.
Have a lash: gamble heavily.
Heavies: enforcers employed by criminals. Heavies, invariably used in the plural, are not nice.
Horny, horniness: sexually aroused.
Hot under the collar: Furious. The expression reminds me of a cartoon character steaming.
How you doing? Hullo.
Hustle: con.
Info: information.
In the know: The professional gamblers who get the ‘good oil’ are in the know.
Jack of: tired of.
Kettle of fish, different: The phrase different kettle of fish originated in Britain. As it means ‘a different matter’, Australians are breaking tradition to use a longer expression because it is amusing or attention-getting. You will notice some other examples such as ‘not half bad’ for good.
Knock off the price: Place a bet before someone else and take the good price which the bookmaker then winds down.
Kybosh on, put the: veto.
Live on Easy Street: Win enough money to never have to work again.
Long shot: a racehorse not expected to win, also called an outsider. A long shot is also a gamble unlikely to result in a collect.
Long walk off a short pier: suicide, not necessarily by drowning oneself.
Mark: victim of a con game.
Med cert: medical certificate.
Mend one’s ways: to give up bad behavior.
Mental: hostile.
Micks: Catholics, probably because Michael is a common Irish Catholic name.
Mobile (phone): cell (phone).
Mug: a gullible person waiting to be swindled.
Mug lair: A person who fancies themselves but comes across as a creep.
Mug’s game: an activity which is meant to be rewarding but is not.
Mushies: hallucinogenic mushrooms.
Muso: a rock performer, probably because musician sounds too staid.
Nag: a racehorse, the term for an unattractive horse goes way back to Middle English.
Neddy: a racehorse.
Nick: prison.
Nose: smallest winning margin in horse-racing. Other bodily margins are half-head, head and neck.
Not half bad: good.
Odds on: A bet where you win less than your stake so yo
u do not even double your money.
Old dogs for a hard road: in some instances, age has an advantage over youth. The metaphor could refer to old dogs having callouses protecting their sensitive paws.
One iota: one little bit.
Packet: a lot of money.
Pack it in: stop working as in a car or a heart.
Pants man: womaniser.
Pea, the: the best person for a task.
Photo finish: when a horse-racing judge cannot decide which horse has won, he looks at a photo or nowadays a video of the result.
Pissed off: very upset.
Pisstake: Making fun of someone.
Plebs: poor people.
Plunge: Putting a lot of money on a horse.
Poke around: look over.
Pony: a racehorse, could be an example of perversion in Australian slang as most thoroughbreds are big and muscular.
Present: evidence such as drugs or a firearm planted by police.
Pretty: relatively. Pretty as an adverb did not originate in Australia but Aussies like to use it pretty often. Pretty seems always to carry a vestige of the sardonic. In Chandler’s The Big Sleep, Marlowe nails its use like an Aussie when describing his manners. ‘They're pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter nights.’
Punting: betting, gambling; usually on race horses; hence have a punt and on the punt. Interestingly, a punter is also an alternative-music fan, especially one willing to try a new band or musician.
Quid: Dollars have been the currency in Australia since 1966 but the slang for the superseded pound, quid, is still used. ‘I wouldn’t be dead for quids’ is popular though it makes little sense. Slang is passed down the generations and, as such, outmoded words survive.
Randy, randiness: sexually aroused.
Ratbag: a person who does or says stupid things.
Rock ‘n roll: the dole (rhyming slang).
Roller: Rolls-Royce car.
Roughie: an unfancied racehorse which is at big odds.
Rumour mill: grapevine, as in I heard it on the grapevine.
Scarper: go. This word is in the half-way house where slang lives awaiting admittance into conventional usage. While it means to ‘go’ there is a hint of impropriety such as not paying the rent or in the novel when Bill Smith’s wife leaves him. A suggested origin of the word (probably incorrect) is that it comes from the Cockney rhyming slang of Scapa Flow (go). Scapa Flow is a large natural harbour off Scotland.
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