‘No. Because half of those things are bullshit. They do work, but mostly on one brand of lock. This opens the lot.’ Kenny picked up the zinger, slid his finger along the steel rod and opened a small aperture on the side. ‘Mine works on a titanium oscillator and two A4 batteries. See?’ Les had a look and nodded before Kenny closed the aperture. ‘What it does, it dislodges the pins inside the lock. Takes seconds at the most.’
‘Right,’ nodded Les.
Kenny pressed the black button and the steel rod vibrated strongly, making a quiet, ringing sound. ‘All you do is poke the oscillator in the keyhole and keep your finger on the button till you hear the pins click. Then push the door open. Sometimes you might have to turn a latch. But that’s all. Here,’ said Kenny, switching off the zinger. ‘You have a go.’
Les took the zinger and pressed the button at the back. He ran it for a moment or two, then took his finger off the button and handed it back to Kenny. ‘Looks all right to me, Kenny,’ said Les. ‘What do I owe you?’
‘Seven hundred and fifty bucks,’ replied the locksmith, placing the zinger back in its plastic box.
Les fished a roll of hundreds from his jeans and slid them across the counter. ‘Why don’t we make it a thousand, and call it square.’
‘Thanks very much, Les,’ said Kenny, transferring the money to a pocket in his dust coat. ‘And if anybody should ask you, you never got it from me. Okay?’
‘If anybody should ask,’ replied Les, ‘they’ll get the same answer they always get. I got it off a bloke down the pub. And he didn’t tell me his name.’
‘Lovely.’ Kenny looked behind Les, and Les turned to see an elderly lady in a blue dress with grey hair and thick glasses approach the counter. ‘Hello, Mrs Bennett,’ said Kenny. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I need a couple more keys cut, Ken,’ said the woman.
‘I’ll do them for you right now,’ replied Kenny.
Les picked up the black plastic box. ‘I’ll get going, Kenny. Thanks for that.’
‘No worries, Les. Nice doing business with you.’
Les exited the shop then got back in his car and headed for Terrigal. Shit. How good’s this thing? he smiled, as he passed the RSL. Apart from doing break-ins, couldn’t you have some fun with it. Like getting square with those two narks across the road who’re always whingeing about everything from Warren parking his car to Mrs Curtin’s old cat. I could sneak into their house when they’re out and drop a big steaming Henry in the loungeroom. Wouldn’t that give them something to whinge about. Les was so engrossed in the potential of his new toy, he didn’t even bother to turn the stereo on and before he knew it, he was back at the resort and the car was in the garage.
Les was whistling softly when he got out of the lift and walked down the hallway to his apartment. He was about to put the key in the door then stopped. Yeah, why not? Les put the key back in his pocket and got the plastic box from his bag. He removed the zinger, poked the oscillator in the keyhole and pushed the button.There was the familar faint ring, followed by the sound of pins rattling. Les removed the zinger, turned the handle and the door swung open. Well how about that, smiled Les. He put the zinger back in his bag, walked inside to his room and finished unpacking.
When he’d finished, Les poured himself a glass of water and took it out onto the balcony. It was a beautiful warm day and, across the road, the water in Terrigal Haven looked blue and inviting. The boats were still rocking gently at their moorings and a flock of pelicans were either paddling about in the water or waddling around on a small beach in front of a dive centre sitting beneath a restaurant and a coffee shop. Les finished his glass of water, then changed into a pair of shorts and thongs, put his snorkelling gear in his bag and headed for the Haven.
Les spent a delightful afternoon snorkelling. The cool water felt good on his cuts and he saw several stingrays, a few blackfish and whiting and found a rusted old watch when he was diving up and down amongst the boats. He dried off then strolled down to the Flathead Spot and had an excellent feed of fish and chips, which he washed down at a table out the front with a crisp salad and a bottle of ginger beer. On the way home, a little blonde with a cute backside working in the local cake shop caught his eye, along with an Italian restaurant next door called Eudosia’s. Les checked the restaurant’s menu and thought he might have dinner there. He stopped at the bottle shop and got some Gentleman Jack, Hahn and mineral water then got a pleasant smile from an attractive woman wearing glasses when he bought a copy of New Dawn at the newsagent’s. Walking past Serene’s, Les couldn’t see the cheeky waitress from earlier in the day.
Back in his apartment, Les wasted no time putting his booze in the fridge before opening a bottle and taking it out on the sundeck with his magazine. Three beers later Les was reading an article called ‘The Tao of Detox’ when the peace and quiet, the luxury of his surroundings and the old drinking-beer-in-the-sun syndrome caught up with the big Queenslander, and he dozed off.
The sun was long gone and there was a slight chill in the air when Les came to life. A little puzzled at first, he blinked and stared over the balcony at a beautiful sight. All the ships waiting to load up now had their lights on, and in the soft darkness looked like a necklace of glittering jewels strung across the horizon. Les gazed at the lights for a while, then stood up, stretched and went inside. After switching on the lights, he tuned the stereo to some local FM and had a shower and a shave. Now wide awake, Les wrapped a towel around himself, poured a delicious and sipped it while he changed into his jeans and a dark blue polo shirt with a denim collar. The first delicious left Norton with a delightful glow, so he had another followed by a beer, which he took out onto the balcony to watch the ships again. By the time he’d finished his beer, Norton’s stomach was growling ferociously. So he got into his black bomber jacket and left the resort for the short walk to the restaurant, stopping at the bottle shop for two long necks.
Being early in the week, there weren’t many people around. But Eudosia’s was doing good business. A tall, dark-eyed waitress found Les a good table in the Perspex-sheltered section on the street, and Les settled down with a beer to peruse the menu. He went for bruschetta, spaghetti frutta di mare for an entree, lamb cutlets Eudosia’s for a main, and insalata verde on the side.
The bruschetta arrived and was delightful with dried tomato, Spanish onion and cheese topping. The spaghetti had a nice seafood mix in a red garlic sauce and the cutlets, topped with red capsicums, mushrooms, garlic and red wine sauce, were grilled to perfection. Norton ripped in, washing everything down with chilled beer, before finishing with an eye-popping macchiato. There was even a little light entertainment on the night. Some well-dressed older bloke, who looked like he had money, was inside having dinner with a good-looking girl in tight jeans half his age. After enquiring from the waitress, Les found out the girl wasn’t the bloke’s daughter. She was his date, and she’d brought her four-year-old daughter along. The girl seemed to know everybody in the restaurant, leaving the sugar daddy with the daughter who absolutely hated him. Les had to laugh at the older bloke crammed into a small section of table surrounded by colouring-in books, crayons, texta colours and dolls, trying his best to eat while the little girl whined for her mother and splattered him with food. The trio finally left the restaurant with the young spunk pushing a stroller, the little girl inside it putting on a raging, screaming, temper tantrum, while the sugar daddy dragged his sorry arse behind, after picking up the tab and getting screamed at and sprayed with spaghetti sauce for his trouble. Poor bastard, laughed Les. I can think of better ways to spend a night out than that. More than happy with his Monday night, Les paid the bill then strolled back the way he came.
After a snooze, a few drinks and a good meal, Les wasn’t all that keen to go straight home and settle down in front of the TV. A quiet drink or three would be nice; he headed for the beer garden at the resort.
Although it was short on customers, the beer garden was spacious and nicely laid
out with plenty of chairs and tables, two pool tables under a canopy and a giant TV screen showing rugby union. The lounge inside was roomy and spread with more TV sets, an open fireplace, comfortable lounges, bench tables and stools and surfing photos on the walls. Several punters were watching MTV and more were in the adjacent games room, feeding the pokies. Les stepped across to the bar and ordered a double JD and soda. It arrived from a lone barmaid in black and Les thought he might take it outside, half watch the football and just sit and think how sweet it is; staying in a million-dollar apartment for free, with plenty of dollars in his pocket. And more days to come, away from the smog and ratbaggery of Sydney. He was walking past a red lounge tucked away on the right when he heard a girl’s voice.
‘Hey, Ugly. I thought I told you take that mask off. Don’t you know, you look like an idiot.’
Les turned slowly to his right. It was the waitress from Serene’s, seated comfortably on the lounge with another girl. But she looked a lot different. She had make-up on, her thick brown hair was shining and combed loosely round her shoulders, and she was wearing a smart black leather jacket with a Mao collar over a tight blue top bursting with cleavage and tucked into a pair of black Levis. The girlfriend had a pretty face with dark eyes and soft lips emphasised by just the right amount of make-up. Her thick dark hair was roughly parted in the middle and she was wearing a cream Levis jacket and a silver and brown top, tucked into a pair of brown Levis. Like the waitress, she was sporting plenty of cleavage but had a tighter rump.
‘Well, I’ll be buggered,’ smiled Les. ‘If it isn’t Miss Congeniality herself. What brings you out tonight in swinging downtown Terrigal?’
‘I was hoping to run into a dreamboat like you,’ the waitress purred through a cloud of cigarette smoke. ‘And I have. Now my life is complete.’
‘Well,’ shrugged Les. ‘Some girls just have all the luck, don’t they.’
The waitress nodded to an empty chair at an adjacent table. ‘Pull up a seat and join us,’ she said. ‘Can you handle a bit of fast company?’
‘I can only try,’ replied Les. ‘Thanks.’ Norton placed a seat in front of their lounge and sat down. ‘Anyway. I’m Les.’
The waitress fluttered her eyes. ‘Well, hi there, Les,’ she said. ‘I’m Carol. And this is Marla.’
‘Hello Carol. Hello Marla,’ smiled Les, shaking both their hands. ‘Nice to meet you girls.’
‘Nice to meet you too, Les,’ said Marla.
Marla’s eyes were swimming lazily around in her attractive face and somehow Les sensed an immediate good vibe coming his way.
‘So what happened to your Woody Allen?’ asked Carol. ‘You look like you’ve been lion taming without a whip.’
‘Give me a break,’ said Les. ‘My melon’s not that bad.’
‘Not that bad? Shit. Don’t they have mirrors where you live?’
Les looked evenly at her, then had to smile. ‘All right. I got into a fight with a couple of blokes over a parking spot. And one hit me with a squash racket.’
Marla winced and placed her hand on Norton’s knee. ‘Oh, you poor man,’ she said.
‘Thanks, Marla. It’s nice to know someone’s got a little kindness in their heart around here.’
Carol gave Les a quick once up and down. ‘Going by the look of you, I’d say you were able to take care of yourself.’
‘Yes,’ Les replied slowly. ‘I managed to deal with the two villains most effectively. And I’m sure that in the future they will think twice before attacking decent citizens going innocuously about their business.’
‘In other words,’ said Carol. ‘You kicked the fuckin shit out them.’
‘Yeah, Carol,’ nodded Les. ‘You could say that. And with a pair of ten-hole fuckin Doc Martens.’
‘Well, good for you, Les,’ said Marla.
‘Thanks, Marla,’ replied Norton.
Les had a hefty swallow of Jack Daniel’s then got into a shout and some pleasant conversation with the two girls. They both lived with their parents at Wamberal, not far away. Carol worked part-time at the restaurant and was doing a TAFE course in computers. The reason she was so good at putting shit on customers was because the woman that owned Serene’s used her as a Rottweiler. If any customers started putting on dramas like whingeing about nothing being good enough and practically wanting you to hold their hand while they were eating, she’d sic Carol onto them. And when they complained about Carol’s attitude, the owner would make a big show of sacking Carol in front of them. This kept the customers happy, it kept the boss happy and it kept Carol happy, because she never got the sack and could blissfully continue putting shit on annoying customers. And there was never any shortage, particularly amongst the wide range of tourists visiting Terrigal. She lived at home because she was saving her money to take a trip to America and Europe, and was seeing a panel beater who was away in Coffs Harbour on a fishing trip.
Marla edited children’s books. She’d written a couple and done a few stints on radio talking about books. She was handy with a video camera and hoping to get into TV. She recently did a doco on NBN about handicapped children that went over well, and was looking forward to bigger things. She’d been going out with a car dealer named Milton, but broke it off because he was too much of an idiot. So was his family.
Les told them he owned two motels in Sydney and was having a quick holiday in Terrigal. He’d been married. But a year ago, a drunk driver killed his wife on a pedestrian crossing.
‘Oh you poor man,’ said Marla. ‘How awful.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Les, looking into his drink. ‘It wasn’t easy. But although Veronica will always have a place in my heart, the grieving period is over. And life must go on.’
‘You’re so brave,’ sympathised Marla, gently placing her hand on Norton’s knee.
‘I had to be,’ smiled Les. He took a sip of bourbon. ‘Anyway. Let’s change the subject. What brings you out on a Monday night? There’s not much doing.’
‘We’re going to an industrial night at the Point,’ said Carol.
‘The Point?’ queried Les. ‘Is that the bar next to the pizza restaurant?’
‘That’s it,’ nodded Marla.
‘And what’s an industrial night?’ asked Les.
‘They put one on every third Monday night,’ said Carol. ‘They’re for shift workers. Nurses, doctors. People in the hospitality trade. Or don’t have to get up the next day. They drop the prices and everybody goes for it.’
‘Carol’s not working tomorrow,’ said Marla. ‘And I’ve got a rostered day off. So we’re going up for a rave. Why don’t you come with us?’
‘Okay,’ said Les. ‘I will. Thanks.’
‘You’re going to have to take the mask off first,’ said Carol. ‘You do realise that?’
‘Yeah. But if I take the mask off, I’ll have to take the wig off, too. They come as a set.’
‘I have to go the loo,’ said Marla. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
Les eased back to let her out and watched her walk off. ‘Your friend Marla’s nice,’ he said. ‘Very friendly.’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Carol. ‘She had a pill earlier. Otherwise she probably wouldn’t talk to you if you were the last bloke left in Australia.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Les. ‘I reckon I’m a bit of a cool swinger.’
Carol gave Les a steady once up and down. ‘Do you have a pill now and again, Les?’
Norton shook his head. ‘No. I don’t mind smoking pot. I tried snorting coke, but the bubbles got caught in my nose. And every time I drop acid, all it does is burn holes in my shoes.’ Les finished his drink. ‘You want another one, Horseface?’
Carol went for her purse. ‘It must be my shout.’
‘I’ll get them,’ said Les. ‘Save your money for another facelift. The last one only took the wrinkles out of your kneecaps.’
Les got up and ordered three more bourbons. When he returned, Marla was back from the Ladies and it was Carol’s turn.
&
nbsp; ‘You don’t smoke, Marla?’ asked Les, as Carol walked off.
Marla shook her head. ‘No thank you. Seventy bucks a week to give yourself emphysema doesn’t sound like a very good investment to me.’
‘Yeah,’ acknowledged Les. ‘That’s one way of putting it. Carol doesn’t mind a puffer, though.’
‘Carol would eat a tobacco sandwich.’
‘Did you ever see a movie called Thank You For Smoking?’ asked Les.
Marla tossed back her head and laughed. ‘Oh, that was so funny. Especially when they kidnapped that bloke and coated him with nicotine patches.’
Les and Marla joked about the movie till Carol rejoined them, then they lightly talked about different things till Carol looked at her watch. ‘Why don’t we go when we finish these?’ she suggested.
‘Suits me,’ said Les.
‘Okay.’ Marla gave Les a smile. ‘Are you going to have a dance with me, Les?’ she asked.
Les looked deeply into Marla’s eyes. ‘Marla,’ he said, ‘there ain’t a man big enough to stop me, or a chain strong enough to hold me back.’
‘I like you, Les,’ said Marla.
‘You’re not bad yourself, Marla,’ smiled Les.
They finished their drinks then left the hotel for the short walk up to the Point.
From the street, a glass door in an alcove next to the pizza restaurant opened on the right into a short enclosed verandah that went past tables and stools to an open glass door that led into the bar. Behind the alcove was another dining area, and standing at a rail in the alcove was a cheerful, solid bloke with spiky black hair, wearing a black, zip-front security jacket. He smiled as soon as he saw Carol, who smiled back before planting a big kiss on his cheek.
‘Hello, Jim darling,’ she said sweetly.
‘Carol. How are you, sweetheart?’ replied the doorman, returning her kiss.
‘Good. I got two friends with me.’
The doorman checked Norton’s bruised face and rugged appearance for a moment, but noticed he was dressed well and in a good mood. ‘No problem,’ Jim said, cheerfully. ‘Go straight in.’
Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust Page 9