I snorted a bit of my tea. ‘Ash Machete? You know someone called that?’
Instead of smiling, his face darkened. ‘Ash Machete is the guy who set Viaspa up in Perth.’
‘Viaspa has a mentor?’
‘He’s a Sydney “businessman”. A powerful one, if you move in those circles.’
I hadn’t heard of the guy, but that didn’t mean much.
I was a west coast private school girl. I grew up going to the beach and to boozy Claremont parties. The Sydney underbelly was a universe away. ‘So what does that mean about the truck that you and Wal were driving?’
‘Ash Machete isn’t one to sponsor local bands for the love of music. He and Viaspa were shifting . . .’ He stopped again and turned the music back on, soft enough so we could hear each other but loud enough that it filled all the background space. ‘We drove a shitload of heroin across the border without knowing. Thirty-five kilos plus some methamphetamine.’
My eyes bugged.
‘We made it there safely, no drug squad.’
‘And?’
‘Trouble is, when we arrived the drugs had gone.’
‘What?’
‘Wal and I spent a week locked in the dealer’s garage while Machete’s guys worked us over. They figured we found the stash and offloaded it.’
‘Ouch.’
‘It didn’t matter what they did to us, we had nothing to tell. Have to say, though, I thought about making something up, just to get them to stop. Wal convinced me to stay with the truth. He was right in the end. It’s the only reason we’re still alive. But I always wondered if it might come back on us one day.’ His shoulders sagged and his aura had disintegerated into a grey cobweb.
‘After that I decided to move here and try promoting.’
‘And Wal got fixated on weapons.’
‘He’d always been handy with that kind of thing, though it was more like knives and stuff. The guns came afterwards. The kind of experience we had makes you re-evaluate your life. It made me want to follow my dream. It made Wal paranoid.’ He paused for a moment.
‘So what do you think?’
‘Well,’ I said slowly, ‘the drug thing’s a more likely option than the jealous Irish husband. But why chase you down again now? And it doesn’t mean it has anything to do with the tour, except . . .’
‘Except what?’
I hesitated. I hadn’t planned to mention last night but in the light of what he’d just told me he had a right to know, in case he was next in line. ‘Two guys roughed me up a bit last night.’ I rolled up my jeans to reveal my skinned knees. ‘My jaw as well. And my back. They got me on the way home to Inigo’s. Warned me off the tour—told me to go home and take Bon with me. One of them was American.’
‘American?’ Stuart’s face drained to the same colour grey as his web-like aura. ‘Why didn’t you call me? Are you alright?’
‘I’m fine. Inigo gave me some witch’s brew for my scratches. Like I said, it was a scare tactic.’
‘You think Viaspa sent them?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
He put his coffee down on the table and buried his head in his arms. ‘I don’t get it. Why is this happening when I’m touring my first big act?’
‘Could just be bad timing, things from your past colliding with your current life,’ I said. ‘As I see it, you’ve got three options. Go to the cops with no evidence about the saboteur and have them tell you to stop wasting their time. Let whoever’s messing with your life win. Or try and take control.’
He raised his head. ‘People like you and me can’t beat people like Viaspa and Ash Machete. They go deep.’
‘Yes, we can,’ I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.
I did something then that surprised me. I told Stuart about some of my history with Johnny Viaspa. How he’d tried to have me killed and how I avoided it. I stopped short of mentioning Nick Tozzi and the reason it had all begun. Stuart’s mouth dropped open as I talked.
‘You’re crazy.’ He got up and paced around the couch and back.
I sipped the last of my tea and contemplated that pearl of wisdom. It wasn’t a new concept to me.
‘The gig’s tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Yeah. I say you focus on keeping Slim Sledge right for tomorrow night. Viaspa hasn’t been a direct threat yet. It’s only Wal’s warning that’s got us worried.’
‘True. I mean Viaspa is all the way over in Perth.’
‘Uh, actually, he’s not.’ I told Stuart about Viaspa seeing the placard at the airport.
‘I didn’t see him. Why didn’t you say something?’
‘He was on the other side of the road. Besides, I had no idea you even knew him,’ I said.
We took up carpet staring for a bit.
Then Stuart pushed his shirtsleeves up. It was an unconscious gesture and I knew what it meant before he spoke. ‘Okay. Well, you do your thing and I’ll do mine. And like Wal says, watch your back.’
‘Same to you. Just one thing I need to know: did you steal Viaspa’s drugs?’ I watched hard for a reaction to my surprise question.
‘No! I already told you that!’ His aura stayed steady.
I nodded. ‘Just had to be sure.’
‘You believe me?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m glad. By the way, I’ve had an enquiry about booking Slim in Perth next week. Sydney’s cancelled, so the time is open. There’s a big gig at a winery and one of their headline acts had a fall and broke his hip. They’ve asked Slim to slot in. Will you go back there with us? On the payroll, I mean.’
‘Say what?’
He flushed. ‘The way things are going, it’d be good to have you on the ground in Perth.’
‘Sure. When do you leave?’
‘If the booking confirms and Slim agrees, we’ll go over a few days after this gig. But you could go before us and do some groundwork.’
I brightened up. ‘Like find Wal?’ And sort out Smitty.
‘Yeah.’
‘Same terms?’
Nod.
‘Fine, book me a flight for the day after tomorrow then,’ I said. ‘That’ll give me time to get down and scout the winery.’
The idea of going home sooner than I’d expected boosted my spirits. My phone beeped and I saw the message was from Tozzi. ‘Let me check this, it could be important.’
Stuart got up and walked into his office and checked his landline for messages while I listened to Nick’s voicemail.
‘Tara, go to the café next to the Pig and Whistle bar on Eagle Street Pier in the city at eleven this morning. A guy will find you there. I sent him a photo of you. He might be able to help with your enquiry. But this is a once-off. I had to pull a big favour. Understand? And one other thing . . . can you please come home soon?’
The last sentence was so unexpected, and said in such a thick, emotional voice, that I nearly dropped my phone. My heart banged against my ribs. OMG. What the f-u-c-k did that mean? He’d hung up before I could ask.
‘Tara?’ Stuart was standing in front of me wearing an expression that I guessed almost mirrored my own: bewilderment mixed with excitement. His aura had lost almost all its grey web and was expanding as I watched.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘That message was from Sofia. She said she had something to talk to me about.’
‘Maybe I rattled her conscience with my visit?’
‘I’m going downtown now to see her and then to the hotel to take over from Juanita.’
‘Fine. Let me know what she says—if it’s . . . ah . . .
useful.’
‘What about you?’
‘Going to check out something from yesterday. Should be through in an hour. Do you have Jade’s home address?’
He nodded, took a notebook out of his pocket and scribbled something on a page. ‘What’re you going to do?’
‘Just have a bit of a look around. If she contacts you, act normal—but don’t let her anywhere near your computer.�
�
His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything. Instead he ducked into his office and returned with two ID badges. He handed me the notepaper, which had two addresses on it. ‘The first address is Jade’s. The second is for the film shoot this afternoon. Can you and Bon Ames do a security check before we get there?’
‘Sure.’
‘We’re bringing Slim over about four. You’ll need these to get in.’ He gave me the badges with Reverb Promotions and his logo on them.
‘Cool.’ I took them and gave him a quick salute. ‘Can you let Bon know?’
‘Sure. Nil bastardo carborundum,’ he said solemnly. Don’t let the bastards get you down. ‘Back atcha.’
CHAPTER 15
I decided to walk to my city rendezvous. The light wind was still cool enough to be pleasant and I had a stomach full of nerves that needed exercising. There was also something about the traffic and the people on the street that made me feel safer now it was proper business hours. Surely even Johnny Viaspa wouldn’t risk a drive-by shooting or abduct me in broad daylight.
I tried to enjoy the sights—palms dotted on balconies of high-rise buildings and glimpses of the river—but every car with tinted windows caused my stomach to flip. By the time I’d walked the length of Ann Street and down towards Eagle Street Pier, I was panting from the quick pace I’d set.
My phone rang just as the Pig and Whistle came into sight.
‘Tara—here,’ I managed.
‘I’m going to call the police.’
Only one person I knew would be that dramatic.
‘Liv?’
‘I can’t wait a moment longer,’ my aunt said with true theatrical flair.
‘There’s no need. I’ve just heard from him.’
‘You what?’
‘I had a text from him this morning about . . . business. He didn’t say much but he’s clearly alright.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He didn’t say, Liv. But he’s lying low. You just need to be patient. Give him some time and space to sort out whatever it is.’ Give me time and space too!
‘How do you know he didn’t send the message under duress?’
‘I don’t,’ I admitted. ‘But honestly, I think he’s fine.’
‘I’m sorry, Tara. That’s not good enough for me.’
Damn! What now? ‘Liv, have you considered that he might be cleaning up something from his past? Wal’s not exactly a saint, you know. If the police start sniffing around looking for him, it might land him in serious trouble.’
I could hear her breathing into the phone while she thought that angle over. ‘You know something, don’t you?’
‘No. But I know Wal. He’s got more skeletons in his closet than there are in Karrakatta Cemetery.’
‘So you don’t think he’s off having an affair or something?’ She tossed the comment out light-heartedly but I picked up the slightly hysterical undertone.
Jeez, not Liv too! ‘Hell, no!’
She sighed heavily. ‘Very well, I’ll wait a little longer—but I’m telling you, Tara, I will not wait forever.’
‘I’ll be home in two days. We’ll get together as soon as I’m back.’
‘I’ll expect you,’ she said in a very Joanna-like tone. Who knew my aunt could channel my mother when she wanted to?
‘Bye, Liv.’ I slipped my phone into my bag, turned off the street past the tavern and walked into a café called Feelers.
Feelers took up nearly the entire ground level of a huge office block. The decor was all glass, chrome and white fixtures, and the waiters wore white tux jackets over dress shorts and white sandshoes. The effect was kooky but cute.
I chose a seat back from the front windows, next to a pot of fake lilies, and waited. My inclination was to fidget with my phone but I made myself pay attention to the street outside and those entering the café.
My guy came in a few minutes later. I picked him straight away from the nonchalance in his step and the turmoil in his aura. He scanned the café and saw me almost immediately. All I got was a brief head shake, as though he didn’t want a direct acknowledgement. He went to the counter and ordered a drink.
I left my seat and did the same. By the time I was served he was seated next to my table so that our chairs were almost touching back to back. He briefly looked up from his newspaper as I settled at my table with a small bottle of orange juice. We sat in silence for a while and I began to think I had picked the wrong guy.
‘I’m going to put the paper down in a minute,’ he whispered. ‘Ask me if I’ve finished with it. We can talk casually after that.’ He dropped it on his table and proceeded to stretch.
‘Are you finished with your newspaper?’ I asked loudly.
He turned as if surprised that I was even there and handed it over. ‘Sure. Not much in there today.’ In a low voice he added, ‘I slipped it inside.’
I opened up the newspaper and held it at an angle that only he and I could see. With the paper in front of my face, I was hidden from most of the café.
He sank back in his chair so that our heads were almost touching. ‘Tara, right?’
‘Yeah. Look, thanks. Do you want to go somewhere else to do this?’
‘No. A public place is best.’
‘It is?’
I heard him take a sip of his coffee but I didn’t turn my head.
‘Let’s make it quick,’ he said.
‘Do you know what the photo is about?’
‘It’s a proposed development in Fortitude Valley. I’ve written the address on the back of the photo. Please destroy it when you’ve read it.’
‘Umm, sure . . . But why?’
‘It’s a heritage-listed area. If there’s a green light in the works for this project then someone must have paid off the environment minister, and I don’t want to know about it.’ I could almost feel him shudder.
‘Does that mean it’s been approved?’ I asked.
‘That’s not my area. Listen, I gotta go. I don’t want to know where you got it and I don’t want to ever see you again. This is a favour for Nick, not you.’
He got up and left the café before I could fold the newspaper and put it in my bag. As soon as I had, though, I headed straight to the loo and locked myself in a cubicle. A quick leaf through and I found a printed copy of the photo stuck onto a page with sticky tape. I peeled it off and looked at the back.
Winne St, Fortitude Valley.
I got a stomach cramp. The development was on Stuart’s street. No wonder Andreas got a bit agitated when I mentioned his name. Did Sofia know that her uncle was in on an office development that would see her ex-fiancé lose his house and place of business? And was that a reason for Andreas to sabotage the Slim Sledge tour? Perhaps he was hoping that the failure of Slim’s tour would bankrupt Stuart and he’d be happy to take whatever price he was offered for his home? I needed to find out more about the rules of heritage listing. Sitting on the loo, I used my phone to search for the right government department. From what I could tell, it seemed to be situated in a building on George Street which was only a few blocks away.
Okay, I told myself. Go there, get more information and see what pieces fall into place.
I shot Tozzi off a quick text before I left the cubicle. Thanks. Yr guy was a big help. I’ll b home Sunday.
A quick loo-flush for appearance’s sake and I was out the door.
•
George Street was on the west side of the CBD. I chose the route that took me past the Stamford and the Botanic Gardens. Fran Dickle and her fan crew were still camped outside the hotel and a couple of police officers were standing talking to them.
I crossed the street to avoid getting caught in conversation and power-walked down towards the Riverside Expressway. The gardens, on my left, were filled with Moreton Bay fig trees and garden beds of orchids. I wished I had time to wander through and have a proper look but sightseeing was off the table right now. I could still enjoy the wafts of frangipani and the dappled lig
ht on the grass as I passed though. Brisbane CBD was actually a pretty cool place.
The gardens ended in a conglomeration of buildings that made up the Queensland University of Technology. I took a right into George Street and headed in the direction of the casino and the government executive offices. Heritage was on the tenth floor and I had to sign in and have my bag searched. As I went through the protocol and stepped into the lift, I had a feeling I was being watched. A few quick glances revealed nothing other than the usual suits and delivery guys you’d expect in government offices. Still, I was relieved when the doors shut and I was alone in the lift.
When they reopened, I walked straight into a foyer that contained several chairs occupied by bored looking punters and a man sitting in a little booth peering at me over the top of a desktop computer.
‘Identification, please,’ he said.
I handed over my driver’s licence and waited while he ran his checks. Either the bandwidth was crap or he was making me wait for the sheer hell of it. By the pinched expression on his face and his equally narrow, hard aura, I was going with the latter.
‘Take a number and a seat,’ he said eventually.
I snatched my ticket and grabbed a bunch of pamphlets from the plastic holder on the table next to the water cooler before I retreated to an empty corner chair. I don’t wait well, so I got busy skimming through pamphlets.
My phone beeped and the man in the booth frowned. I quickly switched my setting to silent and read the message.
Good. It was from Tozzi.
Still three people to go before me. I got up and approached the man in the booth.
He gave me a suspicious stare. ‘Yes?’
‘Do you have a piece of paper I could have? I need to write some notes.’
Begrudgingly he dipped into the drawer below his computer and pulled out a blank sheet of A4.
‘Thanks.’
I took it back to my seat and got out a pen. Slanting the paper so no one could see, I began to make a list of everyone I’d come into contact with over this job, and anything relevant to the Slim Sledge tour.
Andreas G.—planning a development on Stuart’s heritage-listed street. Prevented Stuart and Sofia’s engagement.
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