White Shoes, White Lines and Blackie

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘It was goddam quick, I know that.’

  Crystal was working in a club in New Orleans. She’s just met Kelvin, who of all things was in town getting a scam going with some old swamp woman in a bayou somewhere to make Cajun Slimming Herb Tea, or something equally devious. He was cheeky, liked a laugh, didn’t mind spending up and Crystal liked him. ‘Crocodile Kramer’ she called him. One night Kelvin picked her up after work and he had his brother with him. They were walking back to the car parked near some alley when two huge black men holding knives jumped them. Again Crystal added how quick it happened. But somehow Manny shaped up to the first mugger like a boxer, grabbed his knife hand, pushed it up in the air, turned inside him, brought the knife hand back down and, bending the mugger’s wrist, stuck the knife straight up into his heart. Norton gave a double blink as Crystal tried to show how he did it. The second mugger, Manny stepped to his left, slapped his hands around the huge black’s right wrist, where he was holding the knife, stepped inside, blocked the mugger’s right leg with his left, flipped him over his hip, then took the knife off him and shoved it into his heart. Both muggers were dead before their heads hit the sidewalk, and they hardly got time to make a sound.

  ‘And he stabbed the both of them?’

  ‘Did he ever. But you know the darndest thing, Les, he dragged both of them into the alley with the knives still sticking in their chests. Layed them out in front of each other and placed their hands around the other’s knife. It was in the papers the next day. “Two men found dead in alley after killing each other in a knife fight”.’ Crystal gave a little laugh. ‘They called it the Stagger Lee and Billy killing.

  ‘That’s journalists for you,’ said Norton.

  ‘Yeah. Ain’t they the pits.’

  ‘Oh, by the way. Did you see what the local variety had to say about you?’ Les got the papers from the kitchen and handed them to Crystal. ‘Not a bad photo of me.’ Crystal looked at the Telegraph first. ‘What the fuck’s this? “Crystal Linx Stinx.” The goddam sonsofbitches.’ ‘Yeah, they’re good, aren’t they. I mean it’s not as if you said anything to upset them.’

  Crystal gave Norton a quick look then started reading. Les studied her over the papers, trying to figure her out. Was she really a foul-mouthed dropkick or just a country girl at heart who’d moved to the city and got hardened up a bit — something like himself in a way. Her story about moving from Granite Falls to New York via New Orleans was a hoot, and she didn’t mind throwing in a laugh now and again. But even with the laughs and this southern gal bit, Les had a feeling she was holding something back. Yeah. Her tits, he laughed to himself, watching them straining against her dressing-gown. I wonder what she’d say if I asked for a private showing? They were still something else and Les was still looking forward to Monday’s photo session. But what about Menachem’s story. I knew he was bad news and that was the full-on Special Forces unarmed combat stuff she described. Right up his alley. And what about the way he left the bodies. How cool was that. No matter what happens up here, I think I’ll keep sweet with his young brother.

  ‘I don’t believe these assholes,’ snorted Crystal, handing Les back the paper and the headlines he’d saved. ‘What a scuzzy thing to say about a fine suthin’ belle like me,’ she added, batting her eyelids.

  ‘They just ain’t got no class, ma’am.’ Les took a sip of beer. ‘So what are you going to say to them at the great unveiling on Monday, Crystal?’

  ‘The great unveiling?’

  ‘Yeah. When they take the photos on Monday and you drop ’em out for all to see. I was hoping to get a sneak preview round the pool. I even bought a two-litre bottle of baby-oil. One for each. I’m keen, Crystal.’

  Crystal looked evenly at Norton’s cheeky grin. ‘We’ll see what happens on Monday,’ she replied slowly.

  Norton was about to say something when he heard a voice behind him. He turned around: it was KK.

  ‘Hello. What’s going on here, behind my back?’

  ‘Nothing much, KK,’ replied Les. ‘I’m just getting your girl drunk, that’s all. So how are you feeling, killer?’

  KK had a dressing-gown on and was holding a glass of Seltzer. ‘Not real good,’ he answered, shaking his head very slowly. ‘Hey, Crystal told me what you did out the front last night. Thanks for that, Les.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Norton. ‘You never had your yamulka on, and it was Friday night. I thought you might’ve got the shits on religious grounds.’

  Kramer winked; even that looked like it hurt. ‘I might even give you a bonus when this is all over.’

  Norton returned KK’s wink. ‘That would be very nice of you. So what’s doing tonight? What do you want me to do?’

  ‘You fancy eating around eight?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘We’ll have a feed somewhere, then we’ll go up to Neptune’s for a bit of flutter. Show you what a real casino looks like. Not like that yabbie’s nest you work in up the Cross for that thieving ex-milkman.’

  ‘And afterwards I imagine we’ll be going on another champagne tour of Surfers Paradise, KK? If they can get the limo cleaned.’

  ‘No,’ answered Kramer dryly. ‘We won’t be going nightclubbing tonight, Les. Maybe one place is all. It’s a quiet sort of joint and I want to see the owner. He’s a good bloke. A couple of drinks then home. I’m not having a late one.’

  ‘Suits me.’

  ‘Hey, Les,’ said Crystal. ‘Do you mind if I borrow a couple of these tapes?’

  While he was talking to Kramer, Les didn’t notice Crystal take her cup into the kitchen and come back holding two cassettes. ‘No, go for your life. There’s about half a dozen there.’

  ‘Just these two will do. Thanks, Les.’

  Crystal turned and started towards the door. Kramer made a move too. ‘I’ll see you down the front about seven-thirty or so, Les.’

  ‘Righto.’ Kramer went inside, drawing the curtain behind him, leaving Norton alone on the sundeck.

  Well, there you go, mused Norton. Dinner at eight. That shouldn’t be too hard to take. He took another mouthful of beer. The only thing is, what am I going to do between now and eight o’clock? Decisions, decisions. Does it ever bloody stop. He took another slurp of beer, which finished the bottle, and gave a little sigh of exasperation. I may as well get a job as be like this. Les shook his head and looked at the empty bottle. Well, I suppose the first thing I’d better do is get another bottle of beer. Then put another tape on and do pretty much what I was doing before. What a bastard. Tough and all as it was, Norton did just that.

  It wouldn’t have been hard to drink every beer in the fridge, sitting on the shaded verandah, looking at the ocean while the music played. But after one more Red Stripe, Norton decided to hit it on the head. Even though tonight would be another piece of piss, turning up out the front three parts drunk just wouldn’t be right. He ended up dozing off for about an hour, that wasn’t hard to do at all. By then it was time to walk round to the TAB and see how his bets had gone: the quinella and the double both went down, but his all-up place bet fell in, leaving him just on $230 in front. Which had him whistling away as he made a cup of tea back at the flats. He thought about giving DD a ring, but decided against it. She’s a nice enough girl and all that, thought Les. But she’s still an Australian one. If I ring her up and let her know I’m too keen, she’s just as likely not to turn up tomorrow night. I’ll ring her Sunday arvo. A slightly derisive smile flickered across Norton’s face. I could ring Warren I suppose. I doubt very much whether he’ll be going out anywhere tonight. Not where anyone knows him anyway. Poor little cunt. I guess that was a bit of a weak act. But serves him right, and a bit of a hiding now and again never hurt anyone. It livens you up a bit — if anything. There were other calls Les could have made: instead he took his time under the shower and getting himself cleaned up. He was out the front not long before eight and seeing as they were going to Neptune’s Casino he wore his blue trousers, white Kelly Country Hawaii
an shirt and the blue Italian casuals. He didn’t look too bad.

  Tony was waiting, sitting behind the wheel of the limo. Les gave him a friendly, warm smile, dripping with falsity, and got a half smile back from the driver who said nothing. Well, at least we know where we stand, mused Norton, leaning against the back door. Around eight o’clock, the royal couple came out the front door. Crystal was wearing a loose fitting white top that buttoned across her shoulder, something like a chef’s coat, jeans and denim cowboy boots. Kramer had on grey trousers, a grey and black check shirt with a bit of gold-plating round his neck and of all things, white shoes. Am I seeing things? thought Les. I’m going to have to say something here. Then again, if he’s springing for another grouse meal, he can wear sandals, black socks and a hanky on his head with a knot tied in the corners if he wants to.

  ‘Hello KK, Crystal,’ said Norton pleasantly, as he opened the back door. ‘How’s things?’

  ‘Good, mate,’ beamed KK from behind his glasses.

  ‘Jes fine,’ smiled Crystal, giving her eyelids a flicker.

  They settled in the back of the limo. Tony must have known where they were going in advance and the big car cruised gently off towards the highway.

  ‘You picked a place for dinner?’ asked Les. ‘I wouldn’t mind going back to that joint we went to last night. It was tops.’

  ‘No,’ answered Kramer. ‘We’re going up the other end of town. A place called the River Terrace. It’s right on the river, the food’s sensaish, and seeing it’s such a delightful night, I thought we might eat out in the open. That sound alright to you?’

  ‘Couldn’t be creamier,’replied Les. ‘A man just doesn’t know how lucky he is — does he?’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling you, Les. Taking you to all these grouse restaurants is like giving a pig strawberries.’

  Norton nodded slowly in agreement. ‘And will you be seated in the same place coming home?’ He reached over, pressed a button and the window whined up and down next to Kramer’s head. ‘Just testing,’ smiled Norton. ‘Make sure I can reach it in time.’

  Kramer didn’t reply. He just studied Norton impassively from behind his glasses. Crystal didn’t say anything either. But the way she had her hands over her face and turned towards the window, Norton had an idea she would have liked to. Norton left them alone with their thoughts or whatever and before long they pulled up out front of the restaurant.

  The River Terrace was about three kilometres the other side of Cavill Avenue, set unobtrusively between the high-rises and the other buildings. It was mainly green and white with palm trees and vines pushing through spreading jasmine and bougainvillea. There was one level as you walked in and another edged out onto a white concrete wharf built a few metres along the Nerang River. They didn’t quite get the royal treatment like the night before, but it was that close it didn’t make any difference. This time the maitre d’ was a smiling brunette in a crisp pink dress who seemed to know Kramer; she ushered them downstairs to their table, which was set in an alcove overlooking the river, something like a box-seat at the theatre. The lights from the surrounding buildings sparkled softly on the water, gentle music drifted out from the restaurant and the fragrance of jasmine and other flowers hung in the cool, silken night air. You couldn’t help but be impressed. Christ! How good is this, thought Norton. It just gets better and better. I might even bring DD here tomorrow night. I wonder what the chomp’s like?

  The ‘chomp’ was equal to the surroundings. Kramer ordered champagne, a ’63 Tattinger, which Les noticed he sipped rather than swilled; although Crystal gave the first bottle quite a nudge. Les ordered a bottle of Lowen-brau, because of all things the waiter reminded him of Jacko in Brush Strokes. Kramer had barbecued Moreton Bay bugs for entree, Crystal went for veal con funghi, then they both had another lobster each with the trimmings. Norton opted for the pan-fried barramundi in brandy and cream and a mud crab with sweet curry sauce that was almost as big as an armoured car. Everything was super delicious and definitely worth every cent of whatever it was costing KK.

  It was delightful eating out in the open: no one to ogle or annoy them and the gentle breeze kept the air fresh and clean of any fumes or cigarette smoke. Norton got in on the conversation a bit, dropping the odd anecdote about the Kelly Club and growing up in Queensland. KK joked about a couple of scams he’d pulled off in England and going to college in Melbourne. Crystal talked about life in New York and growing up in North Carolina. The food, drink and conversation went down admirably and again Norton had spent worse nights in far worse company, and if this was how you earned $1,500 maybe the world wasn’t such a bad place after all and KK wasn’t such a bad bloke. Maybe. The lady in the pink dress was in constant attendance, and towards the end of the night asked if she could have a photo taken with them; this time including Norton. They had coffee but no sweets, knocked over some more Tattinger and Lowenbrau and around ten-thirty headed happily for the casino. Kramer was in reasonable shape mainly because Crystal had done his share of the drinking for him.

  Having forgotten Neptune’s was a hotel as well as a casino, Norton found the place to be a lot bigger than he expected when he opened the door of the limo to let Charles and Diana out. At first it reminded him of a pastel-coloured shopping mall, only more modern, a lot brighter and glitzier.

  Tony parked the car, a sliding glass door hissed open, and they stepped through. It was quite immense inside, there were rows of shops and kind of arcades going off to the left and right, a glass lift glided smoothly up to a disco and another bar area or something and the whole complex beneath was surrounded by several stories of rooms and balconies festooned with hanging plants and vines. Gazing up and around, it looked all very swish and opulent. The gambling area for the average punters was straight ahead with another darkened and more secluded area below for the high-rollers. There was a throng of people on the move and Crystal’s splash in the local papers must have been noticed by and large because quite a number of heads turned in their direction, including the uniformed security staff. Les was about to ask KK what he wanted to do when Kramer spoke.

  ‘There’s a bar just over there,’ he indicated with a nod of his head. ‘We’ll have a couple to get us in the mood, then we’ll attack.’

  ‘Okey doke,’ answered Les.

  The bar to their right was called the Azmuth Lounge, and didn’t appear too crowded for a Saturday night. There was no shortage of chairs and green marble tables. A green lounge ran round the outer perimeter dotted with several palm trees and a waist-level brass-rail ran round the bar. Stuck in the middle of this was a two-piece combo warbling some old Hall and Oates song. Norton ushered KK and Crystal to a table and sat them down; although there were two or three waitresses in floral dresses hovering around, Les said he’d go to the bar for the drinks.

  ‘Let me have a shout, KK,’ he said, ‘it’s the least I can do for those two top feeds you shouted me.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ shrugged Kramer.

  KK ordered a J and D scotch highball, Crystal wanted a double George Dickies on the rocks. Les wasn’t particularly buying the drinks out of generosity or that he had changed his mind all that much about Kramer, but something caught his eye as they stepped into the Azmuth Lounge that KK never noticed and he doubted if Crystal would have anyway. Six rather stocky gents, all about thirty, were standing near the bar, casually and neatly dressed, something like Les. A couple were even wearing white shoes. They were all different heights and shapes, all tanned and solid and giving the appearance that they kept themselves in reasonably good shape; there may have been a couple of paunches from good food and drink but definitely no sloppy beer guts. Some had tattoos and streaks in their hair, and there was no shortage of gold-plating and junky gold rings. The solidest one had a crop of dark hair that started just above the ridge of his nose and looked thick enough to cut a fire trail in.

  However, it wasn’t just their stand-out appearance that caught Norton’s eye on the night. Most everybo
dy else that glanced over when they walked in seemed to have a look of bemusement on their faces: plenty of look-who-that-is-over-there, nudge-nudge, wink-wink. But as soon as this team saw Kramer their faces soured noticeably, and after working on the door of the Kelly Club, watching hundreds, probably thousands of punters coming and going, Norton could sense a bad vibe a hundred metres away through a dense fog. He went to the bar and ordered the drinks, plus a Jim Beam and coke for himself, and while making out he was checking his money, casually watched the six men in the bar mirror. They gave him a cursory glance but their eyes kept darting towards Kramer and you didn’t have to be a lip-reader to know when someone was muttering ‘fuckin’ little cunt’ out the side of their mouth. Les also thought he distinctly heard one bloke say something along the lines of ‘Like to break his fuckin’ little neck.’ Mmhh, thought Norton, as he walked back with the drinks. It appears not everybody on the Gold Coast has a pin-up of young KK in their locker at work. And those gents aren’t the happiest chaps I’ve seen at the best of times. If Norton had been driving around on Wednesday night he would have noticed the same six blokes looking a lot less happier as they were searching up and down the Gold Coast Highway for a blue overnight-bag full of pot.

  ‘There you go,’ he said, placing the drinks on the table. Les sat down and raised his glass. ‘Well, here’s to a lucky night on the tables.’

  ‘Yeah, cheers,’ said KK.

  ‘Here’s mud in your eye,’ winked Crystal.

  Norton took another sip and turned to KK. ‘It’s funny,’ he said, ‘but I thought I saw a bloke over there I know from Sydney. Do you know any of those blokes at the other end of the bar, KK?’

  Kramer turned around, had a brief look then turned around just as quickly. ‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘No one there I know.”

  ‘Yeah?’ replied Les. ‘Oh well. I must have been mistaken.’ And I think your honest, straightforward answer, Kelvin, tells me everything I need to know. They won’t start anything in here. But I might just avoid those chaps if I happen to be out and about with you and your lovely girlfriend and should see them somewhere. Six to one against aren’t quite the odds I like.