Sharp Turn

by Marianne Delacourt

  ‘Slowly,’ I said. ‘I was kinda hoping you could give me a speed update on a few things.’

  His eyes took on the shine that told me he’d happily talk about bike racing well into his next life. ‘What did you want to know?’

  ‘You heard about any problems between Team Riley and Moto-Sane? Or between the mechanics? Apparently they had a fight out at the track. Cops got called in.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, I don’t know either of the wrenches, but I’ve heard they both came from the same works team in Europe.’

  He poured himself a glass of lemonade. I was pleased to see it. Crack had a penchant for rum, and rum had a penchant for Crack. Together, they got a bit crazy. One time after a rum-and-cola night, Crack tried to jump off a flyover bridge in Claremont, just to see if he could. I tied him to the railing with his belt until we both sobered up. I guess drinking was another thing Sable had saved him from.

  ‘Which team?’ I asked.

  ‘Aprilia, I think.’

  ‘So they have a history?’

  ‘Could do.’

  ‘What about Gig Riley?’

  ‘Gig’s a pretty fine rider, but he’s not a natural like Bolo’s guy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s kinda hard to explain. Lemme think. You know how in basketball you get those players who can just do things without thinking? It’s like they see the gaps on the court. The really good billiards players are the same – they reckon they see the lines on the table. Well, bikes are no different. You can be technically good but not have the feel.’

  ‘The “one with the machine” thing?’

  ‘Sounds corny, but it’s actually true.’

  ‘So what about the father?’

  ‘Riley’s a hard bastard. Not someone you wanna cross from what I hear.’

  ‘And the other two? Bennett and Chesley?’

  ‘Chesley’s a partnership. You know Shakes the jeweller?’

  I nodded.

  ‘It’s kind of a hobby for him. Same for the engineer guy, Hardwick. Fair bit of internal politics, so I hear.’

  ‘And Bennett?’

  ‘Honest-to-goodness racing family. Been doing it for years. The father used to race cars and the uncle was into speedway. They say the youngest Bennett girl is mad keen on drifting.’

  As far as I could tell, the motorsport of drifting was like skydiving without a parachute.

  ‘Thanks, Crack,’ I said. Pretty much everything he’d said confirmed what I’d learnt so far, and I had a lead on the fight between the mechanics. I drained my soda.

  ‘You want a real drink, T?’ he asked.

  It was tempting. For once I had some money in my pocket and I could taxi home. Then I thought of Lena Vine. I still had to check through her files on Louise.

  ‘Nah, got some work to do.’

  He looked a bit disappointed.

  ‘Let’s have a night out soon,’ I added. ‘Bok too.’

  He grinned at that idea.

  The three of us could take the town apart together – just so long as we kept away from flyover bridges.

  On the way home, I stopped in Bayview for a consolation chocolate caramel cone at the ice-creamery opposite Latte Ole. Patrons were bursting out of the café doors onto the sidewalk as the place did its evening transformation into a bar. I wondered how many people I’d know in there, and for a second considered going in.

  Go home, Tara, I told myself sternly. Do your work.

  Then I saw Ed stumbling out.

  I opened my mouth to call to him, but shut it when a slim girl in an LBD detached from a group near the door and snuggled in under his arm. They kissed briefly on the lips and walked off together, heads bent in deep conversation. My heart contracted into a hard, unhappy lump. Was that Vonny, the girl he’d mentioned?

  I wanted to follow them but gave myself a lecture about having some pride. Instead I drove home licking my ice-cream and feeling miserable.

  Chapter 13

  CASS WAS ALREADY ASLEEP, so I tiptoed around for a bit then climbed into bed with my laptop. First I checked the Aprilia site. There were a couple of dealers listed, of which the closest was in Fremantle. I’d swing by there tomorrow and see what I could find out about Clem and Riley’s wrench.

  Next, I dug around for anything on Bennett’s Hardware being in financial trouble. Sure enough, there were rumours about it on some of the financial forums. They’d also dropped off the latest Australia’s Top Companies list. (I noticed that Riley’s Tyres had snuck in at ninety-nine.) If the rumours were true, Team Bennett might be riding in their last race.

  I opened my email and clicked on the attachment Lena Vine had sent me. It contained her files on both Louise and Kate. I only gave Kate’s a cursory glance; I hadn’t asked for it, and wasn’t really interested in junkies. According to the file, Kate was a home-grown girl from Bunbury who’d worked in various cafés, restaurants and clubs around Perth. The reason she’d given Madame Vine for wishing to become a ‘team member’ was her desire to save money to go on an overseas holiday. Where to? Amsterdam?

  I closed her file and opened Louise’s. Her real name was Lexi Clarke. She’d transferred her university course from Ballarat to Western Australia and was living in a share house near Broadway Fair. I scanned her list of clients. No one jumped out at me, so I started the arduous job of Googling each one. A few turned out to be lawyers or doctors or mining execs, but I couldn’t see any obvious connections with anyone unsavoury – not that bad guys tended to advertise on the internet. I wasn’t sure who I’d been hoping to see on the list. Johnny Viaspa, perhaps?

  I cut and pasted both girls’ client lists into another email and sent it to Mr Hara. He might notice something I hadn’t. PS, I added, I’ll be around for my first self-defence lesson tomorrow night.

  Shutting down my computer, I leaned over and put it on the floor beside me.

  I was asleep before it switched off.

  My phone rang at five the next morning. ‘Yes?’ I yawned into the mouthpiece.

  ‘Tara? It’s Bolo Ignatius. Sorry for the early call. I wanted to catch you before you head up to the raceway this morning. Something’s happened.’ He sounded upset.

  I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve had a . . . errr . . . death threat.’

  ‘Wha-a-t?’ I stiffened. ‘How?’

  ‘A text message telling me to pull my team out of the last round or else.’

  ‘Or else what?’

  ‘The message had a picture attached. I’m sending it to you now.’

  I waited for the image to come through. It wasn’t nice, unless you went for pictures of a hooded man hanging from a rope. I felt a bit sick as I called him back.

  ‘You should go to the police. They might be able to track who sent it,’ I said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, let it be on the record that I am advising you to do so,’ I said. ‘I should have some impressions for you soon. Can you see me this evening?’

  ‘When?’ he asked.

  I was accompanying Smitty to her meeting with Rampant Kindy Mum this afternoon, but I could catch up with Bolo afterwards.

  ‘How about 5 pm in the car park at Cottesloe Beach?’ I said. ‘I drive a Monaro.’

  ‘The one with flames?’

  ‘You’ve seen it?’

  ‘Heard about it.’

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘Well, see you there.’

  I hung up and sat for a moment. Death threat? My pulse accelerated. Something that serious and he didn’t want to go to the cops. Now why would that be?

  ‘Who was that?’ asked a sleepy voice from the foldout bed.

  ‘Bolo.’

  ‘Didn’t sound good.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ I said grimly. ‘Someone’s threatening him. Sent him a nasty picture. I’m going to the gym, Cass. Back in an hour. We’ll head off then – grab some breakfast on the way.’

  ‘No need,’ said Cass sleepily. ‘Your mum sent down eggs an
d bacon. I’ll cook while you’re at the gym.’

  My mother had sent down food? It’d been hard enough believing the vampire lady had taken to Cass. Now, this! My mother allowed me to raid her fridge with a slightly disapproving frown. But providing food for me . . . that hadn’t happened since school lunches stopped when I was sixteen.

  Within ten minutes I was at the gym. Craigo was fiddling with the cappuccino machine as I strolled past the counter. There were already a few people there on the walking machines.

  He looked up. ‘Tara, you just coming home from a night out?’

  ‘No. Why?’ Did I look that tragic? Actually, I felt pretty bad.

  ‘You don’t do this, remember? Sweat in the morning.’

  Craigo and I had had many a conversation about the merits and demerits of early morning exercise. I swore it endangered my biorhythms.

  ‘I’ve got a job,’ I said mournfully. ‘It’s the only time I can get here.’

  ‘Poor darling. I’ll have a hot chocolate ready to go.’

  ‘Make it two,’ I said, thinking of Cass.

  I did a walk and slow jog warm-up for about twenty minutes on the running machine and mulled over a heap of things. Audrey’s murder and Bolo’s death threat should have been at the forefront of my mind, but the truth was, a third thing was crowding in. I couldn’t stop thinking about Edouardo and wondering if he was cheating on me.

  By the time I moved onto the weights machines, I’d decided he was.

  More people arrived in the gym as I moved onto the rowing machine, and when I looked up towards the end of my set, I found myself staring straight at Nice Guy’s legs.

  He was looking a bit rough himself, standing in the aisle as if not knowing where to start. He saw me and flashed a grin. I noticed his aura for the first time. It was a colour I’d never really seen before: a grey-green. Grey usually meant something dark or unhappy was going on in the person’s life. Tozzi had a darkish spot, which I imagined had something to do with his cokehead wife, Antonia. But generally people with green auras were calm and rejuvenating to be around.

  I took another look at Nice Guy. ‘You want this one?’ I asked. ‘I owe you.’

  ‘I’m right, thanks.’

  He folded his arms and spread his shapely legs, watching me. I finished my set a little more flushed than normal due to his scrutiny. It wasn’t often an attractive guy watched me work out. And he was attractive: legs, arse and torso toned without being overdone; not a spare ounce on him.

  I wiped my face with my towel and reached for my water bottle, all under Nice Guy’s calm gaze.

  ‘All yours,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Gotta run.’

  He shot out a hand to help me up. ‘Josh,’ he said.

  I took it. ‘Tara.’

  His touch was like plunging my hand into cool water. His aura darkened momentarily then settled back into a beautiful green.

  ‘See you again,’ I added and got the hell out of there.

  I collected my hot chocolates from Craigo and paid him. ‘Who’s the new guy?’

  ‘Cute, huh?’ said Craigo. ‘Just in town for a week on work. You should see him in kickboxing class. Un-be-liev-able. And h-o-t.’ He waved his fingers as if they were on fire and blew on them.

  I headed out to Mona, balancing the drinks and feeling my ego soothed a little. Ed wasn’t the only one who could pull the opposite sex.

  I scoffed down Cass’s eggs, bacon and toast in record time. ‘D’lish. What’s the sauce?’

  She grinned. ‘Hollandaise. Joanna makes it.’

  ‘Really?’

  Joanna makes it. Why was the vampire lady chumming up to Cass?

  ‘What are you going to do about the threats?’ she asked.

  I shrugged. ‘Bolo doesn’t want the police involved.’

  ‘Sounds dodgy.’ Her tone suggested she was a connoisseur of such things.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ I said, thinking about my own reluctance to get the police involved in my problems. ‘Sometimes it just gets too messy.’

  She shook her head. ‘Dodgy.’

  I swallowed my annoyance at being contradicted. ‘Whatever. Let’s go.’

  After swapping Mona for the van at Jim’s place, we headed for the track.

  ‘So how was dinner last night?’ I asked.

  ‘Great. Actually, your mum and dad are pretty cool.’

  ‘You are kidding?’ I teased.

  ‘No.’ She scowled at me and stared moodily out the window.

  ‘How are my parents possibly cool?’ I asked, when it became obvious she was sulking.

  ‘Well, they eat their meals together. And they talk to each other without shouting. Your dad washes up for your mum. Just cool stuff. Okay?’

  I suddenly felt bad for not appreciating all the blessings in my life; and for wanting to have my flat-stroke-garage back to myself.

  ‘I guess that is pretty cool,’ I admitted. Then I tackled the so-far unspoken thing. ‘Look, it’s been great having you help me out, but the job will only last a few more days. Bolo wants a result before the race. So we should talk about what you’re going to do next, where you can live, you know, long term.’

  ‘I’m not going home.’

  I thought of the ring of bruises around her neck.

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘You want me out.’ It was a statement.

  ‘No, Cass. But it’s a small flat and I’m busy doing stuff. I don’t want you being lonely and not having things of your own to do.’

  She stayed silent.

  ‘I’m asking around for a job for you,’ I added.

  ‘Can’t I just work for you? Like Wal does.’

  It took me two sets of traffic lights to think of a reply. ‘Err . . . well . . . that’s sweet of you . . . but . . . thing is, a lot of the time I don’t make enough to be able to pay you. I can barely pay Wal. And here’s the thing . . .’

  She tilted her face towards me, listening intently.

  I didn’t know how to say this delicately, so I opted for my usual direct approach. ‘To be any kind of investigator you need to be able to read.’

  A few more traffic lights passed.

  It was another bright-sunshine-with-cool-wind kind of day; the type that makes you feel you can move mountains. There was energy in the air.

  Since working with Hoshi and learning more about my gift/curse, I’d realised my sensitivity to the weather. When the pressure dropped, I felt like a slug on Valium. On days like this I usually felt charged, but today too many things were weighing on me.

  I’d turned right off the coast road towards Wanneroo before Cass spoke again.

  ‘So . . . you sayin’ if I could read better, you’d let me work for you?’

  Damn!

  ‘Well . . . yeah . . . I guess so . . . but I’d also have to be making enough to pay you, you know, long term, which I’m not at the moment.’

  She nodded absently, as if the idea of payment was of little or no consequence. I didn’t push it any further and we moved on to talking about Bolo and the death threat.

  She looked at the picture on my phone and pulled a face. ‘Looks like it came off a porn site,’ she said with authority.

  I didn’t ask her how she’d know.

  Chapter 14

  AFTER A WAVE TO Jase on the way through the gates, I parked the van in the allotted place and hooked up to the power.

  ‘You alright to set up while I do a circuit?’ I asked Cass.

  She nodded and climbed into the back of the van.

  I headed down to Sharee’s booth but she wasn’t in. There were a few new posters pasted to the message board; I noticed the advert for the furniture was still there.

  Checking I had my phone, I moseyed over to the pits.

  This time Team Bennett’s roller door was open and the cover was off the blue and red Yamaha inside. I couldn’t see a mechanic, but a guy in clean jeans and a dark blue tee-shirt was crouched down examining the tyres.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I�
��m Tara from the food van. Do you want to put in a food order for lunch?’

  The guy stood up and it was clear immediately that he was the rider. They tended to be the same build – lightweight but strong, and small to medium in height. There was usually something intense going on with them too. With Lu Red it was the fist-clenching. With this guy it was his brilliant green cat’s eyes.

  ‘Tara-from-the-food-van. Is that like Jenny-from-the-block?’ he joked.

  ‘Sure. I guess.’ I sashayed a few steps in my best J-Lo imitation.

  ‘I like big girls. Especially big girls who make me sandwiches.’

  I let my expression become stony. ‘And I like tall guys who can look after themselves.’

  He looked crestfallen briefly then laughed. ‘Guess I deserved that.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Will you forgive me if I order some food?’

  ‘Sure.’ I pulled my phone from my pocket. ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Meatballs and tomato with mayo on a white roll. And a 7 Up.’

  Uggh. I’d learnt a lot about people’s tastes, or lack thereof, in the last few days. ‘Got it. You riding in the race on Sunday?’

  ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘You gonna win?’

  His effervescent blue aura contracted as if someone had pinched it. ‘Maybe. Depends, I guess.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘You know. The usual. Who rides well. Who rides smart.’

  ‘There’s a difference?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘You look like you’re smart,’ I said.

  ‘Every dog has his day,’ he shot back.

  ‘Okay. Well, good luck . . . err . . . can I have your name?’ I added, waving my phone. ‘For the order.’

  ‘Frank Farina.’ He seemed disappointed that I’d had to ask.

  ‘What time would you like to pick it up?’

  ‘Midday,’ he said. ‘Practice starts at 2 pm. I need time to digest.’

  ‘I’ll see you soon then.’

  That comment seemed to brighten his ego and his aura flooded back to its full sparkling-blue strength. Men!

  I walked on past the Chesley garage. A bike revved inside and a pall of blue smoke blew out the door. Inside, people were shouting over the noise. Didn’t seem like the right time to pay a visit, so I moved on to Riley’s.