Sharp Edge

by Marianne Delacourt

  ‘Cass!’

  ‘It’s OK, Tara. He’s OK. Do you want to come and get it? I have to go. I’m on my break.’

  I sighed. ‘No. Yes. I’ll be there in ten.’

  Who’d have thought parenting would be so tough!

  * * *

  Nine minutes later I was outside the deli, watching Cass through the window. She was serving a lady I recognised from Joanna’s book club. I waited until the transaction was complete and the lady had left before I went inside.

  Cass spotted me immediately and with a sly wink slid the phone across the counter. I took it without a word and sought refuge in Mona.

  The phone rang twice before it was answered.

  ‘Bon?’

  ‘It’s Jake.’

  ‘J-Jake S-Stranger?’

  ‘What have you found out?’ he asked.

  ‘Bon said I have until tomorrow.’

  ‘Sooner is better. I saw you talking to her last night.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m still working on it.’ Today was a day of buying time.

  He paused for a second then said, ‘Tomorrow then. There is a number programmed into this phone. Use it to call once. Then chuck it. By the way, nice dress. When we go out on a date, I want you to wear it.’

  Did he really just say that? My throat closed over in panic, and I croaked a meaningless noise into the phone.

  ‘Cat got your tongue, Tara?’

  I forced a cough and a swallow. ‘No,’ I managed to say. ‘I think the devil has.’

  He clicked off with a soft chuckle and left me staring at my phone like it had just poisoned me.

  Jeez.

  Before I could freak out too much more, Garth rang.

  ‘Can you come to the boutique’s warehouse? There’s a problem.’

  ‘Who’s there?’ I asked, not wanting to be seen by Johnny Viaspa’s sister.

  ‘Just me and Jasmine. Please come quickly.’ He sounded scared.

  ‘Sure. Soon. Hang tight. Where is it?’

  ‘601 Stubbs Terrace, Shenton Park. Come around the back to the loading bay.’

  ‘Be there soon,’ I said.

  I shot Wal a text telling him what I was doing.

  He replied right away with instructions of how to get into the ‘bag’ he kept locked in his cupboard.

  That was Wal-code for his weapons stash.

  Australia wasn’t a gun society in the way of some other countries. Sure, you could buy them with the right permits, but there were checks and balances in place. And like any modern society there were plenty of illegal ones around. I didn’t own, or wish to own a pistol, but I understood the message that Wal was sending me.

  Once I stepped into the light and Johnny Viaspa made a connection with me investigating his sister’s business, the recent enforced truce I’d been experiencing would likely dissolve. He’d tried to have me killed once. He would try again if I started getting in his way.

  Seeing him last night at the parade, was already too much of a red flag.

  I didn’t feel good going to a warehouse owned by the Viaspa’s without some way of defending myself, but going to Wal’s first would take time and Garth sounded freaked.

  I remembered the tyre iron in the boot and decided that would have to do.

  Fifteen minutes later, after two drive-bys to make sure there was no sign of Viaspa, I parked the car a street away and walked down the driveway to the loading dock. The large sliding doors were locked, but Garth was standing in the doorway looking out for me.

  I jumped up onto the ramp, clutching my tyre iron, and followed him into the dark space that my eyes registered as being packed with shadowy shapes.

  ‘No lights?’ I said quietly.

  He took my arm to urge me along, but I resisted until he answered. The hairs on my body were snapped to attention.

  ‘We don’t want anyone to know we’re here,’ he said.

  ‘Then, why are you?’

  He tugged insistently. ‘Come and see.’

  I shook him off, but followed him between towering stacks of boxes that came into sharper focus as my eyes adjusted to the gloom.

  We wove our way to somewhere near the centre of the building where Jasmine was standing staring into a large open crate. It was full of mannequins bent at odd angles to fit the confines of the box.

  ‘So?’ I said, wanting only to get the hell out of there. ‘What?’

  ‘This is one of the box numbers that isn’t on the inventory,’ said Garth.

  ‘It took us most of the night to find it, because it was right here in the middle.’

  I could hear the fatigue in his voice.

  ‘You’ve been here all night. It’s almost 11am.’

  ‘After the break in, we both felt we had to know what was going on.’

  He leaned forward and lifted the mannequin’s torso out, resting it against his own body. With a couple of quick twists, he disengaged the head and reached into the neck cavity.

  Even in this half-light I could see the white powder in the plastic bag he’d retrieved. ‘Each mannequin is loaded with bags,’ he said.

  I took the bag and held my phone torch up. ‘Coke,’ I said unnecessarily. We all knew what it was.

  ‘What do we do, Tara?’ Garth’s voice trembled, and he reached out to Jasmine, who slipped into his embrace. She looked thin and exhausted, and terrified. ‘I told Jasmine we should call you before the police.’

  Jeez. ‘You did the right thing. Now put it back, go home, and let me think. I’ll get back to you soon with a plan.’

  ‘The police are in the plan, aren’t they, Tara?’ he said.

  ‘They are,’ I said. ‘For sure. But I just need to make sure you and Jasmine are protected. Let me think over the angles.’

  He nodded uncertainly.

  ‘Trust me, Garth. You don’t want to be held under suspicion of being involved in drug trafficking. Once the police are involved, they’ll take no prisoners. Everyone is a suspect. There might be a way to do this without involving you both.’ Or me.

  They exchanged glances and he nodded again.

  ‘Now, get the hell out of here. But before you do, where’s the office? I want to look through the stock computer.’

  ‘We can help you with that,’ said Garth.

  ‘You’ve been here all night. Go home to bed. Wait for me to call.’

  ‘The office is in the back corner near the forklift,’ said Jasmine, speaking in a husky whisper. ‘The password is pradaplease.’

  ‘Right. Now go!’

  I gave them both a gentle shove and waited until I heard the far door clunk shut before I moved. In the still and dark of the large shed, I took some slow, calming breaths. This is not something I’d wanted, but here I was, and I had to deal with it. If Johnny Viaspa had even an inkling that Garth and Jasmine knew about this, they’d be in grave trouble.

  I made sure the mannequin crate was sealed again before I threaded my way through the stacks, and past the forklift to the office.

  The door was open and the air con rattled and blasted cooler air on my overheated skin. I left the light off, using my torch to negotiate my way around.

  While I waited for the computer to boot up, I flashed my torch around. It was a typical warehouse office, faintly dusty with posters blue-tacked to the wall: runway models, hair product headshots, and one of Ed’s underwear shots from months ago.

  I resisted the urge to rip it down and turned back to the screen. The password worked, and it opened to a screensaver photo of a large family get together at some upscale restaurant: thirty or more people raising their glasses. Johnny Viaspa was front and centre.

  I quickly clicked on the file manager. Garth knew far more about invoicing and ordering than I did, so I skipped all the spreadsheets in favour of a quick search through the documents.

  The files were mainly letters, with some PDF versions of fashion catalogues saved. After thirty minutes, I gave up. If there was any clue to who they were laundering mone
y through, or who supplied the cocaine, it was well hidden.

  I shut the file manager and stared at the screen saver. Time to get out of here before someone came.

  I was just about to shut down the computer when my phone buzzed.

  ‘Lloyd?’ I whispered.

  ‘Ms Sharp. Have I got you at a bad time?’

  ‘I can’t talk all that freely right now, but did you find out who he was?’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s proved more difficult than I expected.’

  ‘Can you explain what that means?’

  ‘My people tell me that the government has put sniffers on our IP address. Our search strings are being monitored as well. I’m afraid I have to be very careful where I look for information.’

  ‘No cracking.’

  ‘No cracking. For the moment. We’re working on get arounds.’

  ‘I don’t want you in any trouble on my behalf. Forget I even asked.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ms Sharp.’

  ‘It’s Tara, Lloyd. Please don’t be. But I have to go. I’ll be in touch soon.’

  ‘Take care, Ms Sharp.’

  He hung up and left me staring at the screen. Now what? I guess that meant going back to the Leederville Hotel and asking around a bit more.

  I leaned forward to click the shutdown command, and my hand froze. In the back row of the photo, between two men with sculpted shoulders and styled hair, was a round face I suddenly recognised.

  Freddie the Frog!

  I could barely see his face above the person in front of him, but now that I was concentrating on it…

  I dived back into the file manager and found the image in the Pictures folder. It was named FAMILY-NEW YEAR-2015.

  I quickly closed the computer down, and got the hell out of the building.

  On the way back to my car, I called Wal. ‘I’m coming to the opening. Just make sure you keep Freddie the Frog away from Phoebe.’

  ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘He’s a Viaspa.’

  When I hung up from Wal, I was shaking. Freddie was a Viaspa. Freddie was harassing Phoebe. Garth’s girlfriend was in business with Viaspa. It felt like their tentacles were everywhere, tightening around me whichever way I turned.

  My stomach bubbled hard like a boiling kettle and I thought for a moment I might throw up on my dashboard. Instead, I got the burner phone out of my handbag and called the number on it.

  Bon answered this time and I told him what I’d found out and where I was going.

  ‘You did good, Sharp,’ he said and hung up.

  19

  I didn’t know what that meant, but it gave me some small measure of relief. Enough for me to start the car and drive to Ed’s. My heart was still tub-thumping when I knocked on his door.

  He opened the door without a smile, looking delectable in dark chinos and a thin black t-shirt made from one of those silky synthetics. His hair was tumble-free today around his shoulders, and an earring glinted in one ear. He looked like a modern day Spanish pirate.

  ‘Hi. Thanks for coming with me to this,’ I said.

  He nodded and followed me down to the car.

  We exchanged pleasantries as we drove to Fremantle, and he asked me about the gym opening.

  ‘It’s a work thing,’ I said. ‘I’m flanking a client who’s got some problems that need to be handled discreetly.’

  ‘Don’t they all,’ he said acerbically.

  I took a sideways glance. His expression was still stern.

  ‘Look … about the other night at the parade,’ I said, plunging in. ‘It wasn’t a date. Nick had tickets, and I had to be there because of this client I’m working for.’

  ‘Where did you get the outfit you were wearing?’ he said in a clipped voice.

  ‘What? The fringe thing? Bok sent it over when he heard I was going. He usually helps me out if I have to go to something dressy.’

  His shoulders relaxed a little, leaving me confused. What exactly was eating at him?

  ‘I’ve never seen you dressed like that before.’ he said.

  ‘Like what? I wish I’d never worn the damn thing, but so what if I did,’ I said belligerently.

  He blinked, still staring straight ahead.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Ed. What’s wrong?’

  He turned his head my way. I kept my eyes on the road, but I felt the imaginary heat of his gaze scorching my cheek.

  ‘I don’t even know where to start … was it the fact that you didn’t call me back, or let me know you were coming to the parade? Or that you were there with someone else, wearing a come-fuck-me dress? Or that you left without saying goodbye? Or that your “not-a-date’s” wife caused a scene because she clearly thought it was a date. Do you think I’m stupid, Tara?’

  I took an even deeper breath, struggling to keep the indignant emotion out of my voice. ‘Look Ed, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, but Cass ran away, I moved house, and I had two clients to look after. For the record, I don’t think you’re stupid. The date with Nick Tozzi was work, and … I can wear whatever I damn will like, to wherever I damn well like, with whoever I damn well like!’ I finished with a rush, which left me feeling hot and bothered, and my palms sweaty on the wheel.

  Ed went back to staring out of the windscreen and we sat in silence as we headed across the bridge and into Freo.

  I wasn’t going to apologise any more than I had. His comment about the dress had me too pissed for that.

  So the silence persisted until we pulled into the car park of a new building amidst the cute cafés along South Terrace. South Fremantle had a lot going for it these days.

  I reefed the keys out of the ignition and grabbed my bag ready to get out when his hand stayed me.

  ‘Tara, I’m sorry. The comment about your dress was out of line. I guess I was … surprised … and well … a bit jealous.’ His aura rippled and softened.

  My mouth dropped open a little. Until now, I’d never really appreciated how much younger than me Ed was. Guys of his age were able to talk about their feelings. I was used to the Nick Tozzi’s of the world, the older generation who would never admit to being jealous.

  Ed’s honesty disarmed me and my anger cooled. ‘Let’s talk after this thing is over.’

  His hand closed over mine. ‘We good, Tara?’

  I smiled. ‘Sure.’ Were we?

  Inside, the new premises gleamed: a paint-fresh, mirror and chrome-shiny, equipment-heavy workout centre. The beats from the surround speakers were bassy and energetic and the crowd had showed up in bright casual gear. There was a fair bit of young money in this area, and they were dressed to prove it. Waiters flitted about with drinks and sushi bites.

  The back half of the main room was raised a foot higher that the front half, and I spied Phoebe in the centre of it standing next to a microphone and podium with a small group of people around her. I couldn’t see Wal, but I knew he’d be around somewhere, taking the low-key surveillance approach.

  ‘Let’s go closer to the front,’ I said to Ed who was helping himself to a beer from a waitperson’s tray. He took a sip and fired her a brilliant smile in thanks, which sent her blushing from her neck to nose ring.

  I didn’t wait for him to answer me, and threaded through the crowd where I found a spot against the wall, almost level with the dais. Now I was closer, I could see that it was Armanno Romeo, his sister, Maria, and a woman who had to be Stacey Jane, their mother, standing with Phoebe.

  ‘You know ’em?’ asked a voice next to me.

  Wal had sidled up without me noticing.

  I turned my mouth to his ear. ‘Bernard Romeo’s family. Do you think they know Phoebe was his mistress?’

  He shrugged. ‘This is one of the wife’s chain of gyms. Phoebe said she usually opened them because of her ambassador work.’

  ‘Keep an eye out for Freddie.’

  ‘Boss, did you go to my place and check the cupboard?’

  ‘No. I improvised,’ I said.

  He shook his h
ead in disapproval. ‘You gotta start carrying something. Prick has already tried to kill you once.’

  ‘That’s why I’ve got you Wal,’ I said lightly.

  ‘It ain’t enough,’ he said. ‘I’m tellin’ ya.’

  ‘I can look after myself. You worry about Phoebe.’

  He shrugged, slouched off, and a few minutes later Ed replaced him. The lights dimmed and a young, fit looking guy stepped up to the microphone.

  ‘I lost you in the crowd,’ Ed whispered.

  ‘You should have asked the waiter with the nose ring. She saw where I went … wait. Oh no she didn’t … she was too busy looking at you,’ I whispered back tartly.

  He slipped an arm around me, an anxious look on his face. ‘Hey, I thought we were alright. I don’t want to—’

  I didn’t hear the rest because the microphone popped and I suddenly spotted Freddie the Frog in the crowd.

  I fumbled for my phone and sent Wal a quick ‘heads up’ text.

  ‘Have to speak to someone,’ I said to Ed. ‘Save me a vol au vent.’

  While the guy at the microphone went through the introductions and a sentimental spiel about Bernard Romeo, I threaded through the attentive crowd towards Freddie the Frog. He was wide but short, and I lost sight of him twice when people shifted in front of me.

  When I got to the spot where I thought he’d been, he was gone. I looked around and saw Phoebe ready to step up and make her speech.

  ‘As patron of Community Health and the Teen Suicide Lobby, I’d like to thank Mrs Stacey Jane Romeo—’

  ‘Looking for someone?’

  I whirled around and found myself face to face with Johnny Viaspa. He wore a tight white t-shirt, jeans and a crocodile smile. The kind crocs have just before they get you in the death roll. His aura pulsed in its usual pussy yellow and drowned me in the smell of vomit.

  My throat closed over. This man had tried to have me killed, and I was pretty sure that item was still on his to do list.

  He leaned forward and whispered, ‘Lost your tongue, bitch?’

  Try as I could, I couldn’t get a sound out.

  ‘Lemme speak for you then,’ he continued. ‘Stay away from my sister’s business, or you and your accountant fuck will end up…’ he shook his head and wagged his finger in a theatrical gesture.