by Cenarth Fox
‘Sorry, you are?’
‘Good answer. Now when, not if, you find the formula, bring it to me. Tell nobody. And when you bring me the formula, you’ll have “a friend in high places” — literally. Cross me, and you’ll learn how I could teach the Cosa Nostra a lot about retribution. You know that word?’
‘Cosa Nostra.’ He nodded and smiled.
‘That’s two words. No, retribution.’ He stopped smiling as she whispered something about a barbeque and his male member.
Luca tried not to imagine. She drew breath, and again smiled.
‘Now, Luciano, my lovely, how does all that sound?’
He drew breath and grinned. ‘I like it.’
He liked it a lot and, unfortunately for Jessica, he liked it too much.
‘Excellent. Now take your newspaper and POQ.’
She went to the door, and he followed.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I like a challenge.’
‘If this drug goes rogue, mate, we’re toast.’ She looked at him. ‘This conversation never took place.’
With his right index finger, he tapped his nose.
Maddy drove her brother to their parents’ home. The siblings discussed the all-important offer from the nursing home where both their parents were to be accommodated. But Bernie’s mind was elsewhere.
Why did Kate lie to me? Did she plan to meet the Hyphen? Is she working for him? How am I going to handle her tonight?
Cousin Chloe answered the door. Their parents were delighted to see their kids. Daphne seemed almost normal. Chloe took her aunt to watch TV while Bernie and Maddy went over the details with their old man. Gus didn’t say a word. They looked at him. He started to cry.
Maddy spoke. ‘Oh Dad, don’t be upset.’ She started crying.
‘We know what the house means to you, Dad, but we really think this is the best way,’ said Bernie.
Gus recovered. They watched him. ‘Bugger the house. I’m just so grateful I’ve got two fantastic kids.’
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
With papers signed, and hugs and kisses dispensed, Bernie asked to be excused. He desperately wanted to get home. He caught an Uber.
I need to sort out Ms Kate Naismith, assuming that’s her name.
Turning into Chestnut Street, Bernie’s phone rang. It was Kate.
‘Hang on,’ said Bernie, ‘I need to pay the cab.’
‘Is it convenient?’
‘It’s fine. I’m just home. Hang on.’
Bernie opened his front door, and Albert served him with a writ for dinneris lateus.
Still on the phone, Kate was concerned. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’ve been to my folks sorting out their future.’
‘How are they?’
‘Good. Look, I’d really like to see you. Are you back in town?’
‘I got in an hour ago.’ She paused. ‘And I’d really like to see you.’
‘Can you come over?’
‘I’m on my way. And I have cinnamon doughnuts.’
Bernie laughed. ‘Thanks. See you soon.’
He fed Albert, walked Gary in record time, and then started searching.
Has my house been bugged? Did Kate really find that microphone? If she’s working for the Hyphen, why discover the incriminating evidence? Was that a double bluff? What is a double bluff?
He found nothing. Kate was due. Then he heard a scratching sound. In the lounge room, Albert dragged soil from the indoor plant.
‘Oh, Albert, how many times? Use the bloody litter tray.’
Bernie grabbed a brush and pan. He tipped the soil back around the plant then saw a small black plastic box. It sat easily in the palm of his hand. With batteries it was one of the world’s smallest voice transmitters.
Well done Albert Poirot. Is this what I think it is?
The doorbell rang.
He scrambled to return the “thing” to its pebbles and soil position, and then headed to the door.
Kate stood there holding a bag of cinnamon doughnuts.
‘I bring goodies.’
‘Come in, come in.’
He stood back to allow her to pass, and the narrow hallway meant their bodies almost touched. She paused. He looked at her smiling eyes. He bent his head and kissed her. Albert trotted towards the open door.
Needing to foil the would-be feline escapee, meant an end to the romantic encounter, and all three settled inside. Bernie took a quick look at the indoor plant.
‘Kate, I have a special request.’
‘Really?’ replied Kate with an upward inflexion.
He took her hand and led her from the lounge towards the bedroom.
Right, thought Kate. So much for foreplay.
‘Nothing weird but this is really important,’ said Bernie. He stopped at the bathroom door and indicated.
‘After you,’ he said.
Ah, he has a cleanliness fetish.
‘In here?’ He nodded. ‘I hope this is not a scene from Psycho?’
He laughed. She entered. He followed and closed the door.
Curiouser and curiouser.
He moved to the shower and turned on the cold tap.
‘Do you come here often?’ she quipped.
Bernie put a finger to his lips, stood close to her and whispered.
‘Do you remember finding that listening device in my bookshelf?’ She nodded. ‘Well I think there’s another one. I think I’m being bugged.’
Kate looked puzzled but whispered her reply. ‘Are you sure? And no offence, but why would anyone want to bug you?’
Bernie paused then took the plunge. ‘Can I trust you?’
‘Well that really depends on what you’ve done. Do you need help to move a body?’
He half-smiled then told her everything; about the drug, what it could do, the trials, and about his spying boss, the CEO of Labcope. Kate looked astonished. Not over-the-top astonished, just really interested and slightly surprised.
‘That’s some story,’ she said.
‘When we go back outside, let’s not talk about the drug or my house being bugged. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
He turned off the shower, and moved to open the bathroom door. She stopped him. They were closer than close. He knew her secret, and despised her deceit. She believed he’d told her everything.
Thanks Bernie, you’ve saved me hours of listening.
They kissed with passion — a perfect example of lust over lies. Bernie wanted to move to the bedroom but anger killed his desire, and this refusal to seduce her triggered concern in Kate.
Does he know? If so, what does he know?
Back in the lounge room, Kate sat and examined the indoor plant.
Has that material been moved? Do I need the device anymore?
Bernie went to the kitchen saying nothing about the second bug. He called. ‘Are you really keen on cinnamon doughnuts?’
‘I sure am.’
‘You do know they’re bursting with calories, sodium and fat.’
‘I do but you’ve turned me in to an addict, Bernie Slim.’
He laughed. ‘And your coffee is white with one sugar?’
‘Spot on.’
Bernie added the milk, the sugar and a good serve of powder from his latest batch of the MCP. He stirred the brew then placed the coffees and doughnuts on a tray.
She was perusing his books when the supper arrived.
‘Find anything interesting?’
‘This and that.’ She looked at him and put a finger to her lips. He twigged. They were not to mention listening devices or spies.
‘Your coffee smells divine,’ she said.
They sat, and Bernie served his guest. She placed her coffee on the table in front of the settee, and started nibbling her cinnamon doughnut.
He ate too, and sipped his coffee.
I’m drinking, Katie, please join me.
She kept eating, ignoring her coffee. He made conversation.
‘So how
’s life with your cousin. You must give me her address.’
‘No way; she’s gorgeous — and a man eater.’
‘Really?’ said Bernie, forcing a laugh as Mr Cool.
He sipped. ‘I called at your hotel the other day.’
Kate felt a twinge of panic.
‘Oh?’
‘I was worried. I hadn’t heard from you. I remembered where you lived, and wanted to see if you were all right.’
‘Yeah, sorry, but with my mother seriously ill in Sydney, and losing my phone, I was in a mess.’
‘I thought your phone was broken.’
‘No, lost. But I’ve found it, and we’re all good.’
He’s testing me. He knows something. But what?
‘Anyway, it’s great to have you back in Melbourne, although it feels as if you’ve never been away.’
He definitely knows something.
Bernie needed her to drink the damn coffee. He raised his mug.
‘Well, here’s to us.’
She picked up her mug, and tapped it against his. With her spare hand she unobtrusively handled her phone, and triggered a fake call.
‘To us,’ she said, and placed the mug against her lips.
Her phone rang, and she put down the mug.
Shit, thought Bernie.
‘Hello Jo.’ Kate’s face contorted. ‘Oh no! Have you called a plumber?’ Kate looked at Bernie. ‘Okay, don’t panic. I’m on my way.’
She ended the fake call, stood and apologised.
‘I have to go. Major emergency. My cousin’s flat is flooded.’
She headed for the door. He followed.
‘What’s happened?’
‘The flat above has some major leak, and there’s water everywhere.’
‘Can I help?’
‘Thanks but no. And I’m really sorry.’
‘No problem.’
He opened the door, and she hurried out.
‘Call me,’ he cried.
‘I will. And thanks for the coffee. Bye.’
Bernie closed the door. ‘Bugger,’ he said.
That sounded like a real emergency. But I think she knows I know.
‘Damn.’
Animal drove and Luca navigated. In leafy South Yarra, they headed east along Domain Road past real estate way beyond the driver’s budget.
‘Left at Punt, then second on the left,’ said Luca.
‘Who is this guy?’ asked Animal.
‘He’s the boss of the scientist who invented the drug; the guy who went to see our favourite Premier; the guy who’s gunna get me that formula.’
‘Now boss, don’t forget it was me what got you involved with the beautiful Jessica.’
Luca snapped. ‘Left, left, turn left.’
Animal drove down Punt Road turning left again for The Righi. Not everyone gets a street name with the definite article.
‘Park here,’ ordered Luca. The car stopped beside two words in big letters — NO PARKING.
‘What’s the plan, boss?’
‘For you, it’s stay here and shut up.’
‘No muscle?’
‘Not for this guy. The scientist who invented the drug may need a slap. Wait here, pretend to be reading the paper, and look normal. Pretend you’re an Uber driver.’
Animal grinned. He thought Uber was a country. Luca walked to the address given by Madam Premier — my friend in high places — and pushed the buzzer.
The main door opened, and behind the security door stood Dr Ralph Hetherington-Smythe. He loathed cold callers. In fact he loathed any callers, and had a sign by his letterbox and buzzer. No Hawkers.
‘Can’t you read?’ said the homeowner.
‘She said you were a prick.’
Ralph closed the door. Luca pushed the buzzer.
From inside came a voice. ‘I’m calling the police.’
‘Jessica sent me.’
There was a pause before the door opened again, just enough for the owner to survey the scene.
‘Jessica?’
‘You know, the sheila up in Spring Street; some call her the Premier.’
Ralph clung to ultra-cautious. Luca gave him heaps.
‘Look, Shit-for-Brains, do you want the fucken formula or not?’
Formula — the magic word. Ralph unlocked the security door, and stood back. Luca wandered into the hall admiring the paintings.
‘I know nothing about art. What’s this stuff worth?’
Ralph indicated his sitting room. We’d call it a lounge. Luca entered and sat. The settee was genuine class from old money. Luca’s décor came from drug money. Regardless of how much money he possessed, Luca could never buy class.
‘So,’ said the visitor, ‘we’ve both got the same goal. You want the formula to make a mint. Me and the Premier want it to stay in business, and out of jail.’
Ralph felt his chest tighten.
Do I have a criminal in my home?
‘What has the Premier told you,’ asked Ralph?
‘You mean apart from your useless spying technique?’
Ralph endured a mix of rage and fear.
Now I’m being insulted in my own home.
He stood.
‘If you can’t be civil, you can piss off now.’
He sounded like a wimp who failed Sand Castle Kicking 101.
Luca shook his head. ‘Oh please, suck it up, Princess. The sooner you tell me what I need to know, the sooner I’m out of here and finding your magic formula. So talk to me.’
Luca had no gun, but his words and body language compelled Ralph to whack his crack on a Schinke velvet armchair from Italia.
Ralph told all. He had no choice. His spy delivered valuable facts, but not the formula. To seal the deal, to get his hands on the pot of formula gold, he needed muscle.
‘Right,’ said Luca. ‘I can make your scientist sing.’
‘If you can’t get the formula or the drug by regular means, you may have to consider the extreme option.’
Luca looked at the serious CEO. Then the gangster laughed, again mocking the Labcope executive. ‘Jesus, mate. Don’t ever audition for The Godfather.’ Ralph despised him. Luca switched moods. ‘So, how can I contact you?’
‘You can’t.’
‘Good answer. No calls, no digital footprint, no nothing.’ Ralph nodded. Luca leaned forwards. ‘Of course we could be bugged right now.’
Ralph’s blood boiled. ‘Don’t patronise me. This place and my office are swept by professionals.’
Another mood swing by Luca. ‘Nice one. I use Bug Finder. You?’
Ralph stood. ‘I think you should leave.’
Luca went sarcastic. ‘What, no coffee?’ He headed for the door. ‘Wish me luck, pal. If I win, you win.’
Luca opened the door then turned back. ‘You ever see Breaking Bad?’
Ralph lied. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Pity,’ smiled Luca. ‘Your chemistry, my network, megabucks. Ciao.’
Luca left and Ralph discreetly checked the street to see if anyone saw his visitor. The CEO’s heavy breathing matched his rapid heartbeat.
Luca and Ralph made a very odd couple. Throw in the Premier, and there’s a trio. None could lie straight in bed.
Jessica wanted the drug destroyed to save her skin. Ralph wanted it to win promotion to Labcope International. Luca wanted it to make money, and to impress his Mafioso mates in Calabria.
Did any of the terrible trio know what the others were planning? Did the Right Honourable Jessica Katherine Reid, MLA, know of this skulduggery? She’s the clever one. But could she outwit the CEO and the crim?
‘Where to?’ asked Animal.
‘Back across the river. Let’s check out the main man.’
They drove down the Punt Road hill, crossed the Yarra, found their way to Chestnut Street and parked illegally. Luca put Animal in the picture.
‘This scientist guy invented the new drug. We need his formula.’
‘So, I go
in, whack him, and grab it.’
‘No. Just shut up and listen. There may be nothing to get. It might be all in his head. If we kill him we’re stuffed.’
‘I can make him talk.’
‘No, you can make him scream.’
‘Well how else we gunna get it?’
‘We copy my Mum; we think outside the square.’
Animal laughed. ‘I’m still laughin’ at what she done to that Irish prick.’
Without warning, Bernie came out of his house, and Luca came alive.
‘That’s his house. That’s gotta be him. That’s the scientist.’
Animal panicked. ‘Whadda we do?’
‘Stay here, I’ll follow. Just keep your phone on.’
Luca was no George Smiley, but walked quietly on the opposite side of the road some 20 metres behind Bernie. They headed north, and reached the railway line. Luca worried he might need to use public transport.
But Bernie turned left, and used the underpass, walked beneath the trains, and entered the supermarket where Dimmeys used to be.
Luca took a basket and followed. Bernie bought dry cat food, custard and milk, and headed home. Luca followed at a distance. Bernie took Albert’s goodies inside, and Luca woke the dozy Animal.
‘I know how to make Mr Scientist tell us his formula.’
Animal thought it was a guessing game. ‘Ah, torture. I love the sound of breaking bones.’
‘He’s bought cat food. He’ll give us the formula when we threaten to set fire to his pussy.’
Animal laughed. Luca had another idea.
‘Or else his folks. He loves his cat, but can always get another. But he won’t allow his dear old ma and pa to suffer. Let’s whack the oldies.’
Animal grinned.
Back in his pad, Ralph worried. His plan had gone tits-up. Too many people knew about Slim’s drug. Certainly it included Slim’s buddy Lois, the Hungarian bitch, and now, thanks to Ralph’s panic, the Premier, and some underworld gangster. They all knew the secret.
God knows how many more. If just one of them blabs, I’ve lost.
Ralph decided.
Dump the conscience-drug. No new career but I’ll still have one.
He made a money transfer then went online to that cookery site and posted a new message in the Comments section of the Recipe of the Day. He typed.