by Cenarth Fox
‘That couple have been on my books for weeks, and are super keen. I have many other buyers just like them, but I’m wary about an open inspection knowing your folks are not well.’
The siblings liked this attitude. Jackson continued.
‘How do you feel about developers?’
The siblings looked at each other. Both had questions.
Madeline let rip. ‘You mean, have the family home demolished and replaced with some mock Georgian monolith?’ Bernie cringed.
Jackson shrugged. ‘I know they’re not for everyone, and maybe you don’t want your folks to see their treasured home being bulldozed.’
‘Is there any interest,’ asked Bernie?
‘I could sell it tomorrow to any number of developers.’
Madeline spoke her mind. ‘The right price is what matters. Who buys it is irrelevant. Mum won’t have a clue, and Dad understands what some people call progress.’
‘I agree,’ said Bernie. ‘Find out what they’re prepared to pay. We have to sell and the sooner the better.’
Bernie was back home by 2pm and checked his appearance. Knowing zilch about art, his plan was to say as little as possible. For him, the big question involved the activities after the exhibition.
It’s my turn to take her out for a meal.
He tidied his lounge room for the third time, changed his jacket twice, and applied a touch more aftershave.
God, how is my breath? And am I wearing clean jocks?
The doorbell rang. He took a deep breath and bounced along the passage. He felt a smile coming on as he opened the door. There stood a woman but not the one he expected.
‘Signora Conti.’
‘Ciao, Mr Bernie. Come stai?’
‘Bene grazie, Signora. Is something wrong? Can I help?’
‘Nothing is wrong. I have just made some lasagna for my daughter who is now the grandmother for the first-a time.’
‘That’s wonderful, Signora. So now you are a great-grandmother.’
‘Si, I am a bisnonna.’
‘Congratulations.’
She held out a tea-towel-covered pyrox container. ‘I have some leftovers and I say to Gari, this is for your friend, Signor Bernie.’
Bernie took the dish. ‘You are too kind, Signora. Mille grazie.’
Before either could say another word, Kate appeared by the garden gate. Bernie paused with home delivery in hand.
‘I’ve found you,’ said the smiling visitor.
The bisnonna turned and saw the vivacious Signorina Naismith.
‘Hi,’ managed Bernie. ‘Signora, this is my friend, Kate.’
Kate stepped through the gate, and a beaming Signora Conti, now with hands free, stood on tip-toe, and kissed the visitor on both cheeks, then threw in a third smacker for free.
‘Ciao, Signorina Kate,’ she said. The elderly Italian went into the street, and turned back to Bernie. ‘Maybe the fifty years is come very soon, Signor Bernie. Ciao.’
Her eyes sparkled as she waved, and went home to Gari.
‘Come in,’ said Bernie.
‘Something smells delicious.’
‘Yes, my neighbour is very kind.’ He put the lasagna in the kitchen, and joined Kate in the lounge room. She seemed curious.
‘What did she mean about the fifty years?’
‘Oh, it’s an old joke; nothing important. All set?’
Kate smiled. Bernie grabbed his father’s ancient golfing brolly because showers were forecast, and Albert had been cleaning himself.
The art lovers crossed the Yarra, and headed up Chapel Street.
The exhibition featured charcoal drawings of realistic portraits. Bernie hoped for abstract art, feeling better equipped to comment on something difficult to understand — well for him, anyway.
Some of the models pictured were naked, their body shape similar to that of Mr Slim, with a few being positively Rubenesque. Bernie sucked in his cinnamon doughnut gut, and tried to be interested in the exhibition. He found it much easier to study his companion.
They went for coffee then turned for home. They reached the Church Street Bridge when the weather changed. Bernie unfurled his brolly. Kate moved in close and slipped her arm in to his. Thank you, God, thought Bernie as nature gave his romantic plans a shove in the right direction.
The rain delivered a friendly overture, which soon became a nasty first act. By the time they reached Bernie’s place, the rain was going hammer and tongs. He didn’t have to ask Kate to come in, she had to.
They sat on the settee. The rain hit forte, and Albert got curious.
Who are you?
He explored Kate. She stroked him, and Bernie felt spectacularly good. His new and old friend became buddies.
I could get used to this.
‘Well you can’t go home now,’ said Bernie, as the rain set in. ‘How do feel about some superb home-cooked Italian food?’
‘I love Italian food,’ smiled Kate, who suddenly found a cat on her lap.
‘You’ve won a friend,’ said Bernie.
He smiled at Kate and Albert, and Kate returned the expression.
‘Now, something to drink; I’ve got a half-decent bottle of red.’
‘Lovely,’ she said, and resumed her romance with Albert. Bernie got busy in the kitchen. Kate called. ‘Why is he called Albert?’
‘He’s the only cat who understands Einstein’s theory of relativity.’
‘Really?’
‘He even understands Shakespeare.’ Bernie popped into the room, and gave a hammy command. ‘Albert — to pee or not to pee.’
Kate laughed, and more so when the cat walked out of the room.
‘Dogs have masters, Albert has an attitude,’ said Bernie exiting.
‘You could have called him E = mc squared,’ she called.
Bernie grinned. He liked this girl for many reasons. He liked her body. Her face, though not divine, had interesting beauty. Her brain was super interesting. He’d love to share his new drug invention news with her but for now he brought her a drink, and returned to the kitchen.
She hopped up and examined his book and CD/DVD collection.
This will tell me a bit about Mr Bernard Slim.
Two minutes later, Bernie called from the kitchen.
‘You’ll love this lasagna.’ Silence from Kate. He popped his head in to the room. ‘Everything okay in here?’
‘Fine, but I’m wondering what this is.’
Curious, Bernie joined her. She pointed to the bookcase beneath one of the shelves. Bernie bent to see.
‘Never seen that before,’ he said. ‘What is it?’
‘It looks like a mini camera or some sort of microphone.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Bernie making a closer examination. He tugged at the “thing” and it came free. They both examined it.
‘You never said the secret service had an interest in Bernie Slim.’
He faked a laugh but his insides were churning.
‘It must be something the previous owner put in.’
That didn’t sound convincing.
They put the unusual discovery to one side, and enjoyed Signora Conti’s superb lasagna. Bernie’s salad was more trampled than tossed but the meal went down well.
The rain finally stopped, and Bernie walked Kate home. They were chatty and friendly, but both kept thinking about the hidden recording equipment. Bernie felt terrible that someone had invaded his privacy, and may already know about his new drug.
But did I talk about it aloud? What have I said on the phone?
At the entrance to her hotel, Bernie told Kate he’d really enjoyed their date. She agreed. He wished her luck with her Marketing meeting on Monday.
‘When you’re finished, ask Reception to give me a call. I’ll pop down, and hopefully we can celebrate your new gig with Labcope.’
‘Thanks, that’d be nice. Fingers crossed.’
He nodded and smiled. Their eyes locked, and Bernie made the move. Their lips touched, and Bernie
worked hard at his technique of soft and gentle. The kiss moved up or possibly in a gear, and Bernie hoped his pasta sauce residue had long since evaporated.
Just as things got interesting, two residents burst out of the hotel, and almost collided with the romantics causing kissus interruptus. Bernie gave a grin, which simultaneously said darn, oops and bugger.
‘See you on Monday,’ he said and waited for an invitation.
‘See you on Monday,’ she said and turned into her hotel. He waved and headed back up Lennox Street.
Going home, his mind moved from kissing to microphones. Both were interesting although one made him sick to his stomach.
11
NODDY DID NOT FANCY telling Murphy the bad news. ‘Parisi’s out, boss. The filth dropped all charges.’
Murphy spewed. His perfect plan exploded. Having murdered one of his own men, Brendan Murphy framed Luca Parisi in a classic sting. The police fell for it, and charged the Italian with murder. Now the prick was out, and not on bail; free, full feckin’ stop.
Murphy’s face showed a mix of incredulity and rage. More rage because incredulity had too many syllables for his bog-Irish brain.
‘Word is, boss, some female lawyer, Jessica Reid, got him off.’
‘That can’t be true. And how the hell would you know?’
Noddy was shitting himself. He’d been interviewed — grilled more like — by some ex-cop working for Jessica Reid, and her head-kicking barrister. Noddy knew when to keep schtum, and this was one such time.
‘In the pubs, boss, people are talking.’
‘Well who the feck is Jessica Reid?’
‘Member of parliament, boss.’
Murphy erupted. ‘A member of parliament? Luca Parisi gets off thanks to the feckin’ government? Are you taking the piss?’
Noddy felt pain. He dare not breathe a word of his run-in with that bitch, or he feared his big ears would part company with his big head.
‘All I know, boss, is he’s free, and the cops are lookin’ for someone else for the murder of Hoops.’
‘Someone else? They don’t need someone else. I was there. I saw the bastard shoot Hoops.’
Noddy thought about suggesting that Murphy should tell the cops he’d witnessed Hoops’ murder. Noddy didn’t have that thought for long.
‘Right,’ said Murphy, ‘if da filth won’t fix Parisi, I’ll do it meself.’
‘Are you sure, boss? Parisi still owes us, and the cops’ll be watching him like a hawk.’
Murphy went quiet. Noddy made sense, not often, but now he did.
There has to be another way, thought Murphy, and then the idea genie flicked a switch in his Belfast-born brain.
The Irishman’s fury contrasted with the Italian’s joy. Luca was home free and loving it. He spread love and goodwill at home, and a shaky peace treaty was struck with his wife and mother.
But Luca had plans. Plans to import drugs from China or Europe; plans to smash the Irishman who stitched him up; and plans to reward the redheaded bimbo who saved his bacon. Luca got serious with Animal.
‘Tell me everything about this Jessica bird.’
‘You know as much as me, boss. Years ago she got me off some bullshit charge the pigs invented. I asked her to do the same for you.’
‘And she’s a politician in Melbourne?’
‘Not just a politician; she’s the boss.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘If her side wins in November, she’ll be the Premier.’
‘The Premier? My lawyer is the head honcho in Victoria?’
‘If she wins.’
Luca’s head drowned in ideas.
I need to be sweet with this woman. She could be seriously helpful.
‘Invite her to lunch,’ said Luca. ‘Tell her any day is fine and, of course, everything’s on the house.’
Animal’s brain collapsed. ‘Are you joking, boss?’
‘Do I look like a fucken comedian? Tell her Luca Parisi is enormously grateful for all the help she gave him, and for exposing police corruption, and say Mr Parisi offers her the hospitality of his restaurant to her and … is she married?’
‘No idea, boss.’
‘Well find out. And don’t come back unless she agrees. Now piss off.’
Luca gave Animal many jobs, most involving crimes with violence, but asking a politician to lunch — that was a first.
Animal knew the way to Jessica’s old office but she’d moved. Madam now occupied a bigger office, with more staff and more security.
Animal found Jessica’s new location, and stumbled into Groundhog Day. Same reaction from receptionist. Same reaction from security guard. Same intervention from Genevieve.
In her office, Animal delivered Luca’s invitation. Genevieve found it hard not to laugh, but dutifully promised to provide Animal with a response in the next few days.
‘Ms Reid does have a fairly full calendar,’ she said, standing, then ushering Animal to the lifts.
‘The food’s really good, Miss. Luca’s got a top chef, and the squid in a sweet chilli sauce is fucken amazing.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry Miss, it just slipped out.’
Genevieve farewelled Animal, and headed back to her room.
That’s the last time I’ll ever have to deal with Mr Animal.
She took her diary to Jessica’s office.
‘Who was that?’
Jessica’s acute hearing matched her insatiable curiosity.
‘Nobody,’ replied Genevieve.
‘Gen, my bullshit meter is twitching. Now who was it?’
‘It was the lovely Mr Animal, that erudite bon vivant you once got off some drug charge.’
‘Ah, Mr Parisi’s bagman.’
‘Yes, now can we get on?’
‘What did he want?’
‘Jesus Jessica, we’ve got a thousand important things to do, and you want to waste time on some poor man’s gangster.’
Persistent and insistent best described the Opposition Leader.
‘What did he want?’
Genevieve shook her head. Sometimes her friend and boss could be a right pain in the arse.
‘On behalf of Luca Parisi, well-known drug-baron, the Animal wanted to ask you and your husband for lunch in his Lygon Street restaurant, where apparently the squid starter in a sweet chilli sauce is fucken amazing.’
‘I don’t think I should take Myles.’
Genevieve almost collapsed. Just talking about an irrelevant criminal was a shocking waste of time. Contemplating breaking bread with said outlaw was so far beyond the pale, the fence was in the next hemisphere.
‘You shouldn’t take anyone. You shouldn’t even think about going.’
Jessica went walkabout. Genevieve hated these times. Her friend avoided eye contact when she wanted to win an argument. Jessica spoke.
‘I’ll take you. Find a free lunch time, and accept the invitation.’
Genevieve despaired. ‘I don’t know where to start. Defending criminals is bad enough. Rubbing shoulders with them in full view of the public is electoral suicide. I can see the headlines. Opposition Leader Dines with Mafia Boss. Lobster with the Mobster. Do you want to win this election?’
‘Now you know my rule on rhetorical questions. We’ll need a private room or screened area. And we’ll arrive via the back door.’
‘Jessica,’ sounded a desperate Genevieve, ‘in God’s name, why?’
‘I’ll get to see the murder scene first hand and, as always, I’m doing this because everyone, including you, sweetie, tells me not to.’
Brendan Murphy’s new “get Luca” plan was simple; plant drugs at Luca’s home or restaurant, and tip off the cops. Murphy hated “giving” drugs to his rival but needs must. If the plan succeeded, Luca would do serious jail time. Murphy told Noddy.
‘I need a female druggie, good looking and smart, someone who can act a bit.’
Noddy shrugged. ‘Boss, if you want sex, I know plenty of babes.’
‘Shut up and listen. I
need someone to fool Parisi’s family, someone who’s smart and can con her way into that fecker’s home.’
Noddy got the picture. ‘Okay, I think I know just the bird.’
‘Tell her, if this works, she’ll make more money in a day than she does in a year. Now get her.’
Noddy did. Jasmine, not her real name, studied psychology at Swinburne, and gyrated on a porn webcam by night. Online, she wore a cat mask to hide her identity, but had no qualms about exposing the rest of her body. Noddy brought her to meet Murphy.
‘Boss, this is Jasmine.’
Murphy remained seated. Jasmine hesitated then did a spin to show off her body.
‘It’s not y’body, darlin’. I want y’brain. Now put y’arse on the grass.’
Jessica and Genevieve wore sunglasses, and dressed down. They took a cab to Carlton, and alighted well away from the restaurant. As arranged with Animal, they wandered down the lane, and waited at the rear of Luca’s restaurant.
‘This is insane,’ groaned Genevieve.
‘I think I’ll have the squid starter. Fresh chilli sauce you say?’
The back gate opened, and there stood Animal.
‘G’day ladies. Bloody good to see youse. Come in.’
They entered the yard, and Animal led the way. He stopped because Jessica stopped.’
‘Is this where the killers hid?’
‘Yeah. Then they grabbed the chef, and forced him to call Luca.’
Jessica looked around, smiled then looked at Animal. ‘Let’s eat.’
Animal escorted the women through the kitchen, and into the restaurant. Luca welcomed them with respect. He indicated a corner table, separated from other diners by expensive screens.
‘Please ladies, be seated. Order anything you like, and if there’s something you require which is not on the menu, I’ll have the chef prepare it especially.’
‘You’re too kind, Mr Parisi. We’ll share your best pizza. Now, please join us and let’s talk.’
Luca was thrown. Future Premiers didn’t make a habit of popping in for a pizza, and certainly not via the kitchen. He spoke to a waiter then sat. Animal hovered in the wings. Jessica cut to the chase.