A BLIND EYE

by John Henderson

  ‘And she spends a fortune,’ added Sue, shaking her head. She then leant forward and placed her folded arms on the table. ‘And Ron, does Mr. Fisher play up on Agnes?’

  ‘Well, I’m glad we finally got off the finance wagon and onto the juicy bits,’ responded Georgie eagerly.

  Ron smiled. ‘I’m sure he does. As I said, he believes he’s God’s gift to women and he’s always trying to chat up women at the Club. He’s got something of a reputation there as a marauding sleaze who believes all females are falling over themselves trying to get him into the sack. Most women just ignore him, although I suppose he must make more than his share of conquests,’ Ron said as an afterthought, wondering just how successful Fisher was.

  ‘So,’ said Simon with an air of finality. ‘Do we try to obtain enough evidence for Chief Paxton, or do we blackmail Fisher into providing Paxton with a confession?’

  ‘Who said anything about blackmail?’ asked Noel with surprise. In fact, Noel’s question had pre-empted the same question from three others at the table.

  ‘Ah, come on,’ said Simon mockingly. ‘How else would you obtain a confession? We know Fisher could blackmail the balls off a bandicoot and anyone else he could get his slimy claws into, including old Rosey, God rest his soul. He’s so adept at blackmailing other people the last thing he would expect is for someone to blackmail him.’ Simon frowned and shook his head. ‘But I honestly don’t know why Paxton wants either evidence, or a confession; they both mean the same to Fisher in the long run, and that’s being hung up by his short and curlies. I just think it might prove a lot easier to gather suitable evidence that we could use to blackmail the bugger.’

  Ron stretched his legs out in front of him and put his hands in his pockets. ‘I have my doubts as to Paxton’s motives. He’s a very smart man, a lot smarter than most give him credit and I doubt he wants evidence or a confession just to satisfy a whim to string up the Superintendent. Simon, you mentioned that it wouldn’t make any difference to Fisher, one way or the other. Well, it may as we have no idea what motive Paxton has for providing us an alternative as to how we nail Fisher. Let’s face it, we can’t make Fisher confess to anything unless we force his hand. Obviously this means blackmail based on whatever errors of judgment Fisher has committed that we can come up with.

  ‘On the other hand, Paxton’s alternative of charging Fisher with corruption is, I believe, fraught with danger considering the complexities of compiling admissible evidence and the preparation of a case that will stand up in court. Either way, I think Paxton will just sit back to see how Fisher falls on his sword.’

  ‘Right,’ said Simon. ‘So let’s go for the blackmail angle. I suppose it doesn’t really matter which way we go because we’ll still have to get into the Club as that’s where he commits his little transgressions.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s what happens once we’re inside that determines if the evidence is sufficient to blackmail Fisher. We can attack him on two fronts; his extortion of money from the Club and, secondly, we can exploit his Achilles’ heel which is his womanising. That’s the one thing I know we can capitalize on,’ declared Sue as she raised her eyebrows at Georgie and gave a knowing grin.

  ‘No. Definitely not me, Sue, and I’m adamant on that. There’s more chance Fisher will have spotted me with Simon at some function. Besides, you’re tall and slim and have all the attributes Fisher probably looks for. And you’ll look perfect in one of those short dresses whatsaname wore to the races.’

  ‘Hang on, hang on, what the hell are you two talking about?’ asked a totally confused Simon.

  Georgie rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. ‘Bloody men. Absolutely as slow as a wet week. You explain Sue.’

  ‘Well, I only have an idea in the back of my mind, but I think Georgie’s been thinking along the same lines.’

  CHAPTER 20

  Sue was dressed in a long black dress cut low enough to reveal just enough cleavage to create interest. Her high heeled shoes made her look even leggier than she was, but that was as it should be. Sue always worked on the adage “if you’ve got it, flaunt it”, and Noel was never backward in encouraging Sue to comply with the adage; except this time he was not too keen on seeing his wife dressed so provocatively, especially as he was not the escort.

  It was the first time in Sue’s life that she had set foot inside a casino, legal or otherwise. The initial impression that struck her was the entrance to the casino off Forbes Street. Any person visiting the club for the first time would need to have very clear instructions in order to find the front door as there was nothing overt to suggest a casino existed anywhere in the street at all. The second impression struck Sue as she and her escort walked through the front door where the doorman welcomed sir and madam to the Taipan Club and wished them both a good evening, all very polite. Once inside it was the opulence that took her completely by surprise. Sue hadn’t really given any thought to her expectations of what a casino might be like, except for what she had seen in B grade movies where the clientele, all unsavoury characters, if not criminals, moved in a dark and dingy environment with guns tucked away in shoulder holsters. What Sue hadn’t anticipated were the bright chandeliers, the neatly dressed croupiers, the unobtrusive waitress serving free drinks to the players at the tables, and the well dressed clientele. A blue haze and the smell of tobacco smoke hung in the air and this was the only distraction Sue could think of.

  The man escorting Sue was short and rather stocky, the small amount of hair on his head brushed forward in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal a bald patch. He was neatly dressed in a dark navy blue suit, a white shirt with a light blue tie. In fact, it was probably the best Ron had looked for years. ‘Just relax, Sue, they’re not all criminals,’ he said, appreciating Sue’s apprehension. ‘In fact, see that gentleman over there playing pontoon? He’s a solicitor and the bloke next to him is a doctor. There are blokes here from all walks of life, most of them professional people taking home very big pay cheques. Not what you expected?’

  ‘No, not quite what I had in mind. Do the women play the tables or are they here just to add spice?’ Sue asked after noticing a good percentage of the patrons were women.

  ‘Good grief, no,’ replied Ron, shocked by the question. ‘Many of the high rollers are women who’d think no more of putting a grand on buying one card to an inside straight as you would leaving ten bob out for the milko.’

  ‘Okay, so my education’s been lacking. Who are the tennis umpires?’ asked Sue nodding to the several strategically placed seating towers, similar to those used by tennis umpires.

  ‘The blokes sitting up there just keep an eye on the tables. In legal casinos overseas they have the luxury of cameras in the ceiling to monitor the tables for any sign of irregularities whereas here they just keep an eye open for any dodgy activity that might occur. It rarely happens as most of the patrons here like the place and bending the rules could get them thrown out. Before we do anything else, how about we go and get a drink? There’s a couple of stools over there,’ said Ron nodding towards the far end of the bar.

  ‘Great idea,’ replied Sue, her nerves beginning to soothe following her initial fear of the unknown. After they had settled themselves and Ron had ordered a couple of drinks, Sue turned to Ron. ‘Ron, I know I’m naïve on matters of this sort, but this place seems to be more than just a casino. I’ve seen a lot worse night clubs around Sydney and this place appears to be catering to both the night clubbers and the gamblers. The whole setup seems to be very permanent. If it’s so illegal, why don’t the police shut it down?’

  Ron fumbled for his wallet and withdrew a pound note as one glass of white wine and a light beer arrived on the bar. ‘Oh, it’s illegal all right, but it’s a case of the devil you know. See, Mr. Lee knows the police are aware that he’s running an illegal business, and he thinks the police won’t shut him down because he’s paying Fisher to keep them off his back. If the truth be known, even if Mr. Lee wasn’t paying Fisher, or anyb
ody else for that matter, it would still be unlikely he’d be shut down. It’s quite logical, really. If the police raided Mr. Lee, he would just close up and move to another location and start all over again. The police would then have to spend both time and manpower to find the new location and the same thing would just keep on happening. As it is, the police know where Mr. Lee is and they can keep an eye on him, albeit a blind eye. Let’s look at it objectively and accept that Mr. Lee is running a very respectable illegal business catering to the specific demands of a wide cross-section of society. He runs his business well and pays his taxes, at least I suppose he does, and he doesn’t tolerate any trouble on his premises. As long as he doesn’t push the boundaries too far, the police will let him continue to operate.’

  ‘Seems reasonable when you put it like that,’ said Sue as she surveyed the clientele. ‘Have you seen anyone yet?’

  ‘Yes, I saw Mr. Lee talking to the barman as we came in. It’s only nine-thirty so I suspect Mr. Lee won’t be looking for Fisher to turn up for at least another half hour. I only hope he does show up tonight.’

  ‘And you ain’t whistlin’ Dixie there, Ron. If you think we’re going to do this again, you’re dreaming. And yes, I know it was my idea, well sort of, but I honestly didn’t know what I was letting myself in for, and the night hasn’t even started.’

  Ron smiled. ‘You’ll be right,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Noel knew what you were getting into and he was willing to let you do it. It seems you blokes really have it in for Fisher.’

  ‘We didn’t initially set out to get Fisher, but circumstances changed, as you are no doubt aware. But right now, how about another drink or two? And this time I’ll have a scotch and Coke.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Ron looked towards the barman who raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘One light beer and a scotch and Coke thanks, mate,’ Ron said amiably.

  ‘I suppose you do have film in the camera?’ Sue asked, knowing it was probably an unnecessary question.

  ‘Do I have to answer that?’ replied Ron. ‘And I suppose you have batteries in the recorder?’

  ‘Touché,’ replied Sue and patted her handbag.

  Ron frowned and said, ‘Hey, while we have a bit of time, can you explain something that’s been on my mind? When Simon called us together for that meeting at Collaroy, there was never any doubt of Georgie’s and your involvement in the scheme of things, it was tacitly understood and accepted by everyone concerned. I felt like a new boy in town trying to break into the local society. I can see the professional rapport between Noel and Simon, and I expect that. But the four of you seem to have an understanding, a connection or am I being too sensitive?’

  ‘Well, we have been good friends for some time now, and the current circumstances have probably strengthened that friendship. You know what they say; a common enemy makes for close allies. When this is all settled no doubt we’ll all get together for a chat where everything will become clearer,’ said Sue as she continued to scan the patrons over the rim of the wine glass. ‘Do you know Mr. Lee personally?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve met him a couple of times in here. If you were to meet him anywhere else you would never pick him as a gangster. In fact, I don’t consider him as such but see him more as a business man and a gentleman who knows how to treat people. As long as you do the right thing by him, he’ll do the right thing by you. If you don’t, he can get nasty, or so they tell me. Anyway, looks like you’re going to meet him as he’s headed this way.’

  Sue turned to see a tall, thin man, probably in his late forties, dark complexion with long black hair, neatly cut in the Beatles style. He was wearing a dark suit and tie, and wore a gold wrist chain on his right wrist. His blank face broke into an affable smile as he approached. ‘Ron Lange, it’s nice to see you again. And you really have improved the décor of the club with the presence of this beautiful lady.’

  ‘Mr. Lee, I would like to introduce my niece, Sue. She’s over from Adelaide for a short stay and unfortunately I’m the only person she knows in town. Under the circumstances, I thought it appropriate to volunteer my services to show her around, under great duress, might I add,’ said Ron with a wry smile.

  ‘Of course, a lucky girl to have such an accommodating uncle,’ replied Mr. Lee, who turned and addressed Sue. ‘I do hope you enjoy your stay in Sydney and that you have the opportunity to call in at the Taipan Club again before returning to Adelaide. If there is any way I can make your evening more enjoyable, please do not hesitate to ask.’ Mr. Lee nodded to the barman and took his leave of Ron and Sue.

  ‘Seems like a nice gentleman,’ said Sue. ‘And I see what you mean. He doesn’t exactly fit my preconceived ideas as to what a criminal should look like or how he should act.’

  ‘As they say, you can’t judge a book by its cover. You know when he nodded to the barman? Seems like all our drinks are on the house tonight. Like I told you, he does know how to treat people.’

  ‘Ron, as I’ve answered what was on your mind, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,’ said Sue, ceasing her surveillance of the clientele and turning to Ron with a serious look on her face. ‘You’re a nice enough bloke, but you’ve never mentioned your wife?’

  ‘No, I don’t talk about Ellen very often. Very few people know the exact story, but the short version is that she was shot by some useless thug in an attempted hold-up. We were living in Brisbane at the time. I was a small time petty crim, you know, non violent stuff where nobody got hurt. Anyway, I let myself get caught up with some so-called friends in a pay roll robbery of a pub down in the Valley area that went horribly wrong. Ellen was with us although not actively taking part in the robbery. Anyhow, one of the so-called “friends” went nuts, drew a gun and started shooting anything that moved. Unfortunately for all the shots fired, Ellen was unlucky enough to be the casualty.

  ‘It put the wind up me to the extent I went to the police and told them everything I knew. Having a good knowledge of the underworld characters and their associates, I was able to provide names, places and a stack of information that was of interest, all free gratis. They police must have thought all their Christmases had come at once. They asked me if I wanted to become an informer and I thought it a good way of coming to terms with Ellen’s death, so I said yes. They provided a new identity and concocted a criminal background to go with the identity before sending me down here to Sydney to work for the New South Wales Police.’

  ‘So, not many people know the true story?’ asked Sue.

  ‘Apart from Chief Superintendent Paxton and maybe one or two other senior officers, you’re the only person who knows. And I would really like to keep it that way.’

  ‘What story, Ron?’

  CHAPTER 21

  I know, a watched pot never boils, thought Sue, but if Fisher doesn’t get here soon, I’ll be drunk as a skunk. At the same time, Ron’s attention was equally divided between his watch, the door and the glass of beer in front of him, the thought having already crossed his mind that the decision to opt for light beer was probably a good idea. It was closer to ten-thirty before Ron suddenly turned to Sue and raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, look what the cat just dragged in. The bloke over in the lobby, I mean,’ said Ron, nodding towards the front door.

  ‘Is that Fisher?’ replied Sue, swiveling her bar stool around to see the door more clearly.

  ‘Who else? And please, do try to be a bit more discreet.’ Sue turned back to the bar, suitable admonished. While desperately wanting to get a view of Fisher, Sue realised all she had to do was look in the mirror behind the bar to gain a good view of anyone she wished, and right at that moment that anyone was Superintendent Fisher. Fisher stopped and chattered to the doorman before he gave him a pat on the back and entered the club with an air of arrogance and confidence of one knowing exactly what he wanted. Sue’s first impression of Fisher was not favourable. Sue lived on the northern beaches and had always done so. To see anyone with their hair plastered down with Brilcream had to mean that there was a good c
hance that person came from the Western Suburbs and, more than likely, rode a Harley.

  On closer inspection, her thoughts returned to Simon’s description of Fisher as a sleaze, and from outward appearances the description fitted Fisher to a T. God, he must be going through a mid life crisis, she thought. Fisher was probably five eleven, thick set with a conspicuous paunch that buried the belt holding up a pair of stove pipe, pin striped dark blue trousers that matched his dark blue pin striped coat and white tie. The white pointy toed shoes, gold bracelet and large gold ring on his right middle finger completed the ensemble, making Fisher look something more like a pimp from downtown Manhattan than a superintendent of police.

  ‘Oh God, Ron. What have I done? Quick, a double scotch and Coke, and keep ’em coming. Geez, I’ve really blundered this time. Bloody Georgie, it’s all her fault. She should be sitting here, not me, Fisher is closer to her age.’

  Ron laughed. ‘Oohh, look at the claws. Thing is, Sue, our Mr. Fisher prefers his women blond and a bit younger than Georgie, no offence to Georgie, of course. But he is willing to compromise if the prospects are encouraging, and he does like tall women.’ This fact was borne out almost immediately as Fisher engaged in conversation with a tall, leggy brunette, provocatively dressed in a black backless evening gown that clung to a body Jean Harlow would have been proud of. Sue concluded that Fisher had to be a tactile person as he was soon running his hand slowly down the brunette’s bare back. The brunette closed her eyes and swayed against the hand before she turned and smiled sweetly at Fisher. She ran her hand softly down his arm and took his hand and squeezed it gently. Suddenly, without warning, the flirtatious smile was gone from her face, the eyes blazed in anger. The hand she had been so fondly holding a second earlier was thrust, with considerable force, into Fisher’s groin, a gasp of pain drawing the attention of the casino patrons; conversation over.