Sharp Edge

by Marianne Delacourt

  I took two cups out of the drainer and plonked teabags in them. Cass had not only arranged the crockery and cutlery, but we miraculously now seemed to own a tea and a sugar caddy, pearly white and striped blue. ‘But the place was crawling with cops all night.’

  ‘Only seen one left there when shift changed. She was camped near the letterbox out front of the client’s block.’

  ‘That was Fiona Bligh.’ I picked my bag up off the counter and retrieved Wal’s knife. ‘Thought I was going to have to use it.’

  ‘Viaspa?’

  ‘He was so close to me, Wal.’ I shuddered. ‘I swear he knew I was there. If the cops hadn’t arrived when they did.’

  ‘You keep that,’ he said.

  I gave a reluctant nod and put it back in my bag. ‘I don’t want to ever use it. But it might give me a fighting chance if I had to.’

  We sipped our tea in silence for a bit.

  ‘What do you think the list is for?’ I asked.

  Wal glanced over at the door as if making sure no one had snuck in to the room unannounced. ‘Dealers network would be my guess. That Romeo bloke must have been shifting some kind of product. The list’ll be his people.’

  I had a flash of intuition. ‘Of course. He’s been selling through his wife’s gyms.’

  Wal squinted and started filling the electric kettle. ‘Makes sense. Maybe the Cheaters and Viaspa both want it. The territories for selling are pretty organised. Viaspa deals coke. The Cheaters sell pot and amphetamines. Maybe one of them is making a move on the other.’

  ‘Or they’re looking to take on a different product entirely,’ I said.

  Wal switched on the kettle and then suddenly thumped the counter. ‘’Roids and EPO.’

  ‘Performance enhancers?’

  ‘Maybe Romeo’s had the monopoly for selling that kind of juice in the state. Now he’s dead, the others want to take over his patch.’

  I nodded with sudden energy. ‘That’s it Wal! It would also explain Armanno Romeo’s connection with Freddie the Frog. He was hoping to take over from his dad. Maybe he was throwing in with Viapsa.’ Then I sagged. ‘So what do we do with the list? If I don’t turn it over to the cops, then the Cheaters and Viaspa will come for us.’

  ‘They’ll come for us even if you do turn it over. Unless you fancy a stint in WitPro.’

  I shook my head. I did not.

  Wal rubbed his cheek, thinking it through. ‘But if you give it the Cheaters, boss, then you’ll be done owing them.’

  ‘Or I could just destroy it so no one has the names. Morally, that would be the right thing to do, Wal.’ I didn’t hold with chemical abuse much outside a few drinks and a Berocca chaser.

  Wal shrugged again. ‘They’ll build it again anyway. The market’s too big and lucrative to pass up. But it’ll take time. Time is money. They’ll kill you for that.’

  I shrugged feeling hopeless. ‘They’re going to kill me anyway. Garth found a stash of synthetic coke at his girlfriend’s clothing warehouse.’

  ‘The girlfriend who’s in business with Viaspa’s sister?’

  ‘Yep. That’s her. Garth called me to say they were shifting the gear last night.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I made an anonymous call to the cops.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nodded miserably.

  ‘Well that makes the choice easy. You have to give the list to the Cheaters in return for protection from Viaspa.’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘That’s a one-way road to trouble, Wal.’

  He came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. His aura swelled around me like a grey pillow-soft cloud. ‘Tara. You’re already on that road. Now you have to survive. Cops can’t protect you.’

  Hot sour bile bubbled up my throat. ‘How did that happen? I mean, I’ve got a teenager to care for. And a new house.’

  Wal kept patting my shoulder. ‘Either you take control, call the shots, or roll over and be dead. What’s it going to be, love?’

  Wal had never called me ‘love’ before. It bought tears to my eyes. Last night had been endless and I didn’t feel at all equipped for a new day. But wallowing had never been my way. Joanna had seen to that.

  I straightened my back and rallied a smile. ‘I’m going to have a shower. I expect Pete will be here any minute. Can you let him in?’

  Wal nodded his approval. He looked older today, his face greasy and lined with fatigue. But his eyes were sharp and I drew strength and comfort from the grey aura that circled mine. Whatever happened, Wal would be there for me. It would be all right.

  22

  I emerged, scalded, and tender from the shower ten minutes later, scraped my hair back tight, threw on a black t-shirt and jeans and went downstairs.

  Cass was up and cooking oats in the microwave for Pete and Wal. She saw me and went straight to the fridge to get out some juice.

  Pete paused mid-spoonful of yoghurt, looking guilty that he was partaking. He had a plaster across his nose, and two black bruises under his eyes.

  Jeez. Maybe I had broken it. I held out my hand. ‘Phone?’

  ‘Nope. Just a message.’

  I inclined my head to suggest we should adjourn to the front office.

  He followed me out there with his yoghurt.

  ‘Well?’ I said.

  He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a receipt from Macca’s. On the back was written, Caltex North Freo. ‘Sarge says, just go into the ladies and wait ’til it’s empty. Then knock on the back wall.’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ I said.

  He shrugged and began ripping the receipt into tiny pieces. When he was done, he scrunched the pieces into a ball and jammed them in his jeans pocket. I watched the procedure intently.

  ‘What time?’ I asked.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Bin a long night.’

  ‘You were there?’

  He hesitated, wondering what he should and shouldn’t tell me.

  ‘You’re eating my yoghurt, Pete,’ I reminded him.

  ‘I was lookout,’ he said. ‘Few blocks away, watching out for the Five O.’

  ‘You’ve been watching too much American TV,’ I said. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘Nah. Been told to stay here.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘Tell the others I’ll be back in a little while.’

  I let myself out quickly through the front door before Wal could find me and insist on coming. He’d done enough to protect me in the last few hours. I had to manage this meeting on my own.

  The morning traffic was starting to build as everyone headed to their day jobs. I felt a moment of regret that I wasn’t one of them. It would be nice to dress in a skirt and shirt, put on pumps and do the office thing for a day. Or to be catching a plane somewhere for a meeting. I imagined packing my suitcase and telling Wal to keep an eye on Cass. I pictured calling Joanna from the Qantas lounge and complaining about the lack of multigrain bread.

  I … stopped myself. Life was real; not daydreams.

  Shit was real.

  My phone rang as if a solid reminder of that fact. I answered and hit the speaker. ‘Tara Sharp.’

  ‘It’s Lloyd Honey, Ms Sharp.’

  ‘Lloyd? Is everything alright.’

  ‘It is. I managed to find some information for you. I hope it’s not too late to be useful.’

  ‘I thought that you—’

  ‘We’ve worked around the problems we’ve been encountering.’

  ‘Oh. OK well. Can you email it to me? I’m just going into a meeting.’

  ‘Certainly. As we speak. Have a fine day, Ms Sharp. Stay away from the streets of Cottesloe. I believe there’s been trouble in paradise.’

  ‘Shocking,’ I said.

  ‘Shocking,’ he agreed. ‘Take care.’

  A few minutes later, I pulled into the Caltex. Before leaving the car, I checked my email. A quick scan of Lloyd’s message confirmed that Freddie the Frog had familial connections with Johnny Viaspa,
and that he’d had two short stints in prison. Once for theft and once for blackmail. There’d also been a case of aggravated assault but the victim had dropped the charges and without their testimony the state hadn’t been able to bring a case to court.

  Nice guy.

  Freddie had been working at the Leederville Hotel as bar manager for six months. Before that he’d waited bar at Cable Beach Resort in Broome, until he’d been sacked for repeatedly being late for work.

  And then it struck me. I knew who’d killed Bernard Romeo. And the realisation was crushing.

  But I had to deal with this meeting first and I thumped my fist to my chest to shift the paralysis that had settled on it.

  Cars queued at the bowsers of the Caltex station. I pulled in and parked in the bays, expecting a crowd, but the rest room was empty. I went straight over to the back wall and knocked.

  A few seconds later, the back wall-panel creaked and opened inwards. A hand grabbed my wrist and hauled me through and I found myself in a small, dark room at the back of the service station. Jake Stranger was seated on the only stool. Bon Ames pulled me into the room and shoved the wall back into place.

  ‘Very secret service,’ I said.

  Neither of them spoke. Their auras were murky and ill-defined in the darkened room.

  I stood, sweating under their silent scrutiny. ‘So?’

  ‘Where is it?’ said Ames in his most intimidating voice.

  I didn’t see any point in playing dumb. ‘Somewhere safe.’

  Ames produced a pistol in a holster and a screw-on, barrel-shaped metal piece, which I imagined was a silencer, from a kit bag on the floor. He set it all down on the filing cabinet next to him. ‘What’d you tell the police?’

  ‘Nothing that involved the Cheaters.’ I stared at him steadily, refusing to be cowed by the weapon, despite my stomach hurting from the rush of adrenalin.

  ‘What did it involve?’ asked Jake, speaking for the first time.

  ‘My client’s wellbeing.’ I crossed my arms.

  Bon Ames and Jake exchanged glances.

  ‘Now I have a proposition for you,’ I said. ‘I know what the list is for. I know what it’s worth to you and … other parties. I’ll make sure you get the only copy, in exchange for you giving me and my people protection from those who will be … disappointed.’

  Bon Ames let out a rumble of objection and his hand moved towards the pistol.

  But Jake Stranger grunted at him, and Bon withdrew his hand.

  ‘What kind of protection?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Just let relevant parties know that we’re off limits, or they’ll have trouble with you.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because I’ll tell the police every damn thing I know about the Cheaters, including the connections you have internationally.’

  ‘You’re optimistic that you’d make it out of this room to do that,’ he said coolly.

  ‘I don’t have to make it out. The information is ready to go to the police if I don’t return.’ I’d used this tactic once before. With Viaspa. Call it blackmail, perhaps, but I liked to think of it as meeting fire with fire.

  Jake stared at me for a long time before he replied. I could hear my heart, Bon’s heavy breathing, smell our combined sweat.

  Finally, Jake stood up and came closer to me, so Bon Ames had to step back.

  ‘You’ve got balls,’ he said. ‘I think that’s why you might live to go on that date with me.’

  ‘Ovaries actually,’ I replied.

  He laughed. Once. Short. Like a gunshot in an empty street.

  * * *

  I drove out of the Caltex station and took the next left turn to get onto the beach road. When I got to South Cott, I called Phoebe.

  ‘Tara? What’s happening? The police have been here twice. They said you’d told them you were working for me.’

  ‘I’m down at the foot of your street. Parked looking over the beach. We should talk.’

  ‘I have work I have to attend to.’

  ‘It will have to wait,’ I said firmly. ‘I’ll expect you in ten minutes.’

  ‘Very well. If you insist,’ she said, clearly not liking my tone.

  ‘I do,’ I said and hung up.

  While I waited, I got out of the car and sat on the pine railing around the car bays. The sea was a royal blue, sparkling with morning sunshine and smelling profound and pure. I inhaled deeply a few times, hoping that it would centre me and give me strength. My life had taken some unexpected turns that I had to deal with whether I wanted to or not.

  Phoebe arrived on foot dressed in tailored capris and an expensive blouse. She wore sunglasses and a straw hat against the glare. Everything about her was fresh and wholesome, but I knew that was a lie. Her aura was roiling a little quickly around her, as if it was running to keep up with her life. I knew how it felt.

  ‘What is it? I can’t stay too long. I have to be out at a brunch in forty minutes,’ she said.

  ‘You didn’t drive?’

  ‘I thought this would be easier.’

  ‘I know you killed Bernard,’ I said bluntly.

  She froze. A statue of elegance ruffled only by the breeze catching in her shirt sleeves, and lifting the brim of her hat. When she didn’t react, I went on.

  ‘I’m tired, and not feeling very patient, Phoebe, so don’t pretend. As my client, I wanted to give you the opportunity to handle this your way. Go to the police, get your father’s people to help you, get a lawyer. Whatever you need to do. Otherwise, I will go to the cops with what I know, and you can be hauled in publicly. The press is already all over the street shoot out. They’ll be sniffing around for anything that washes up.’

  ‘And what do you think you know,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘I believe that you found out that Bernard was a drug dealer, and wanted to break it off. But he wouldn’t. You knew what it would mean for you and your family if it came out, so you had him tied up and drowned.’

  ‘That’s preposterous,’ she said. ‘Have you lost your mind? You think I consort with … killers?’

  ‘I think you met Freddy the Frog when you were at Cable Beach Resort last New Year’s Eve. He probably bought drugs from Bernard. And you saw an opportunity to get rid of your problem.’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘No. I’m sure if the police check into it, they’ll find that Freddy was working the bar at Cable Beach when you were there. If they ask around, check video footage, they’ll no doubt come up with the proof that you two had a conversation at some stage. Which will prove that Freddy didn’t just start harassing you after Bernard died. I’m thinking that part of your deal with him was that you’d hand over the list in return for the murder. Freddy, no doubt, wanted to impress his cousin Johnny Viaspa, by taking control of the gym drug trade. You only brought me in to the picture to distract everyone from the truth. Make you look as though you were a victim. And potentially find a way to have a hold over Freddy.’

  When I finished speaking, Phoebe’s face twisted into a cold fury. ‘I wasss a victim,’ she hissed. ‘Bernard was a predator. He lied, and he used me. And then he wouldn’t let me go.’

  I nodded with sympathy. ‘I know what it means to be trapped, Phoebe. But you crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to go to the police, or I will.’

  She shook her head vehemently. ‘You do that and I’ll bring you down with me.’

  I was too numb to be bothered by her threat. It was hollow and she knew it. ‘Twenty-four hours, Phoebe. That’s all.’

  Then I nodded to her in the way that old school acquaintances do, got in Mona and drove home.

  * * *

  Wal was pacing the front office, waiting for me when I got home. I let myself in quietly and forestalled his scolding by whispering, ‘The deal is done. Where’s Pete?’

  Wal jerked his head toward the kitchen.

  ‘I need to copy the USB,’ I said.

&nb
sp; Wordlessly, he handed it over, and I took it upstairs where I made two hard copies of my own. I hid the copies in my room and the original in the air vent in the corridor at the top of the stairs. Then went down to the kitchen.

  Cass and Pete were cooking a meat sauce together. She was chopping something green to go in it and he was stirring. It would have been sweet if the circumstances had been different.

  I handed him the USB. He tucked it in the top pocket of his leather jacket.

  ‘I havta go,’ he said to Cass. He pulled the pot off the burner and gave us all a vaguely regretful look.

  Cass was the only one who returned the sentiment.

  When Wal returned from letting him out, I sagged against the kitchen bench.

  ‘I’m going to catch some sleep,’ I said. ‘Don’t wake me for anything less than Armageddon.’

  23

  I woke around lunch time, still exhausted, to the smell of Bolognese sauce. My stomach led me back down to the kitchen where Wal and Cass were eating bowls of sauce and spaghetti and peering at a magazine together.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked, yawning and collecting a plate from the drawer.

  Wal put his food down on the bench and muttered something about having to go check he’d locked up his flat. Cass took my empty plate and began serving me some pasta, ignoring my question. I’d probably have let it slide being only half awake, but the photo at the top of the article caught my eye. Nick Tozzi was easy to pick. I rubbed my eyes and picked up the mag. It was the glossy ‘Weekend’ insert from today’s newspaper.

  I’d always loathed social pages in things: giving value to occurrences that were not in any way inherently valuable, to me at least. But this … photo of Nick, Toni Tozzi and me together in an awkward moment at the Hilton fashion parade. This was like having pins stuck in my eyes. The fringe of my skirt was all askew revealing a wrinkle of cellulite along the top of my thigh. Tozzi’s expression was guilty as charged, and Toni was shaking her finger at us both.

  Jeez didn’t cut it. ‘For fuckssakes!’ I blurted out. The caption read:

  Caught in the act for charity.