Sharp Turn

by Marianne Delacourt

  One of the door staff let out a fan-girl squeal. ‘Martin Longbok. Wow! In our club?’

  She proceeded to tell the bouncers how famous Bok was, and how having him in the club would be totally rad, especially if he mentioned them in his magazine. Before I knew it, we were sitting in a private lounge above the dance floor, sipping drinks from cocktail glasses while we waited for the Fat Frog. Unfortunately, mine was non-alcoholic. I was working, and Bok and I had already agreed that I would drive us home in his car.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were famous?’ I said.

  Bok gave me a wink. ‘Not famous. Just terribly cool. There’s a difference.’

  ‘Whatever. Next you’ll have groupies.’

  ‘Already do.’ He slipped his iPhone out of his pocket, thumbed through some pages, then handed it to me, grinning. His Facebook ‘Like’ site had 3175 members.

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’

  He shrugged. ‘The magazine has a page too. You should get one going for your business.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s not the kind of work you want to advertise. Clients don’t want anyone to know they’re using me. Word of mouth is better.’

  ‘Speaking of clients, how did the brothel visit go?’

  I rolled my eyes and handed him back his phone. ‘Guess who I saw there?’

  ‘Ummm . . . I give up.’

  ‘Whitey.’

  Bok wrinkled his nose. ‘Dirty little toad. No wonder June is off her rocker.’

  ‘That’s what I thought at first. Turns out he was working undercover.’

  Bok’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What?’

  ‘Creep’s been made detective.’

  ‘Kidding? Right?’

  I sighed. ‘Nope. One of the employees was shot right outside the front door. I’m also looking into it for the owner.’

  ‘Shot. Like, in cold blood?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I haven’t seen anything in the papers.’

  ‘I know. Strange that.’

  The door opened and a round ball of a man whose arms and legs seemed to sprout at odd angles around his abdomen entered. The Fat Frog!

  ‘Mr Longbok. What a pleasure to have you in our club. Can I get you a fresh drink?’ His accent was slightly European, though it could have been a complete fake. I wasn’t boned up on foreign intonations.

  Bok gave an appreciative nod. ‘Thank you . . . err . . . ?’

  ‘Vatroque. Claude Vatroque.’

  I stood up. ‘I’m Tara Sharp, a colleague of Hoshi Hara’s. I believe you were expecting me?’ I said, seeing that I was in danger of being totally ignored.

  The Fat Frog danced on the balls of his feet. ‘Oh, of course. Come this way, Ms Sharp. Mr Longbok, I’ll send a hostess in to take care of you.’

  I raised my eyebrows at Bok. A hostess?

  Bok gave a cool nod. ‘Thank you.’

  Vatroque took me downstairs and showed me the complete layout of the club. The internal fixtures were pretty new, and the DJ was housed in a booth, which, Vatroque explained, moved on a gantry back and forth across the top of the crowd all night. Right now, while the club was still pretty quiet, it was sitting at home base near a set of stairs.

  ‘We believe the same group is causing trouble each week,’ Vatroque said, ‘but our staff cannot locate them exactly. By midnight, the floor is chock-a-full.’

  ‘Chock-a-block,’ I corrected. Maybe he really was European. ‘What’s up there?’ I pointed to the area we’d just come from, but further along.

  ‘We ’ave three private rooms; the one Mr Longbok is using, and two others. They will be of no consequence in your appraisal.’

  He was so firm about it that I immediately knew I had to get a look inside them. The fact that Vatroque was one of Lena Vine’s – or Kate’s – clients was zinging across my radar. ‘So the troublemakers are just down here?’

  ‘Oui.’

  He led me to the bar and introduced me to the manager. ‘The staff will endeavour to help you throughout the night. But feel free to join your friend Mr Longbok at any time should you wish to take a short break.’

  His meaning was clear. Keep your behind down here with the ugly masses.

  ‘Would you mind telling Martin that I’ll be busy for a while?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course. Now, please excuse me. I have things to attend to.’

  I spent the next hour wandering around the club and checking the layout: where the toilets were, fire exits, all the various nooks and crannies. The bar ran along one side of the dance floor and underneath the gallery where the private rooms were; a very simple design. Someone had taken a big square warehouse and built in a narrow gallery and some tracks to suspend the DJ’s booth.

  By the time I’d had a good look around, the place was starting to fill. I hadn’t been clubbing in a while and this place was a little younger than my taste. Still, the people-watching was fine indeed. For the next hour or so, I kept myself awake by hanging near the edge of the dance floor and practising reading auras. I hadn’t done any cluster readings before; that was Hoshi’s specialty. He could walk into any room and pick up the mood and sense the direction proceedings were going to take. Right now I could only see energy and harmony, but it was still early.

  By midnight, things were starting to take off and my feet were killing me. I’d worn boots, but the heels on them were starting to hurt my legs. I could have done with a shot or two of tequila as a pick-me-up. Pity I couldn’t drink on the job.

  The thought of a drink prompted me upstairs to check on Bok. I hoped he wasn’t too bored.

  The bouncer at the soundproofed doors leading into the gallery looked like he wanted to frisk me, but I stared him down and dropped Vatroque’s name. He let me in and I walked past the other private rooms to where I’d left Bok. I found my BFF in a cosy arrangement with not one but two hostesses, a plate of smelly cheeses and a dozen empty Corona bottles.

  ‘Tara, forgot you were here.’ He waved drunkenly at me. ‘Thish is . . .’ He slurred two names that sounded like Fish and Chips, then knocked over the table of empties trying to offer me a beer.

  I shook my head and eyed the bimbos. ‘Can one of you get him a jug of water? I’ll be back soon to take him home.’

  So much for Bok and me having a strategy session to manage my problems!

  On the way back down to the dance floor, I tried the door to one of the other private rooms. It was open, empty and dark. The next one was open as well, but lit. I peeped in and saw another bunch of elegant couches, low tables and shelves of liquor. There were three people inside, all bent over a glass-topped bar sniffing lines of cocaine. Vatroque was one of them; Viaspa was another; but the third nearly knocked me flat. Antonia Tozzi . . . what the hell? I held my breath and waited.

  Viaspa was the first to speak. He patted a small knapsack on the bench next to him while Antonia wiped her nose with a handkerchief. ‘Tell Dwayne to cut it down before you distribute.’

  Vatroque nodded excitedly. ‘Yes. This is too good, John. Too good.’ I couldn’t hear a trace of his accent.

  ‘Not mine,’ chimed in Antonia.

  Viaspa took her hand and kissed it. ‘Of course not. Only the best for you, princess.’

  My stomach lurched so hard I wanted to throw up. I pulled myself together and backed quietly away from the door. Nick’s wife was supposed to be in rehab in Brisbane, not sniffing blow in the backroom of a teen nightclub with Johnny Evil.

  That thought preoccupied me until I reached the dance floor, where a sudden change in the cluster aura claimed my attention. The swirling whirlpool of sexually charged pinks emanating from the dancers had developed a dark brown stain near the centre. I pushed my way through the crowd over to the the DJ’s booth and climbed up on it to see better. The stain hovered above two guys who, from this distance, looked no different to anyone else.

  I jumped down and threaded my way towards them. But just as I got close, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Swinging around, who should I see b
ut Nice Guy from the gym – Josh.

  ‘Hi. What are you doing here?’ I shouted in his ear.

  ‘’Bout to ask you the same question,’ he bellowed back.

  Before I could say anything else, there was a commotion in the crowd nearby – a scream and some scuffling. I grabbed Josh’s hand and pulled him closer to the guys I’d targeted.

  ‘Dance with me,’ I mouthed.

  We did just that and I manoeuvred myself into place next to the guys. It only took a few surreptitious glances to detect that they both had small, concealable electric-shock sticks up their sleeves. When the crowd converged tightly, they stung someone. In the near dark, the other dancers couldn’t tell what was happening or who was doing it. But the aura stain I’d seen was emanating from the upset victims.

  Before I could go and get a bouncer, one of the guys stung a young girl who collapsed on the floor.

  Instinctively, I launched at the guy in a below-the-knees tackle. He went down hard and took his mate with him. I grabbed for the hand that held the shock stick, catching a glimpse of Josh doing the same with the other guy. By the time the bouncers reached us, we had them down and out. So much for just observing.

  We followed as the bouncers dragged the two guys outside. One of the bouncers spoke into a mobile phone and soon Vatroque came bustling out after us and danced about issuing instructions and making calls.

  Josh drew me a short distance away from the pavement circus. He was dressed in jeans and a black shirt that was plain but figure-hugging. His only concession to clubbing was a pair of shiny narrow-toed shoes. ‘What was all that about?’ he asked.

  ‘The club hired me to see if I could figure out who was causing the trouble they’ve been having.’

  ‘Hired you?’

  ‘Long story,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Well, you take your work seriously.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘It wasn’t planned.’

  ‘Hey, when you’re all finished up here, how about I give you a lift home?’

  Just being near his cool green aura was a relief after the turmoil of energies in the club. Maybe I could put Bok in a taxi and . . .

  ‘Sharpie!’

  My BFF was swaying in the doorway, supported by both hostesses.

  I gave Josh a rueful smile. ‘Can we take a raincheck on that? I’ve got to tuck my best friend up in bed.’

  Josh’s aura thinned a little. He wasn’t so happy to be knocked back again.

  ‘You want to hook up at the gym tomorrow?’ I suggested, to make up for it.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Great. See you around ten.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting,’ he said.

  Vatroque was grateful in a jittery, coked-out kind of way. Bok was grateful in a drunken, get-me-home-before-I puke kind of way. So getting out of the club took longer than I’d hoped, especially as I kept looking over my shoulder for Viaspa – but at least I got paid.

  As I poured Bok into the passenger side of his car and seatbelted him in, the club’s fire door opened and two figures appeared: Toni Tozzi leaving like royalty from the back entrance. Right on cue, a familiar car cruised down the laneway.

  I knew Johnny Viaspa’s white limo too well from my recent experience of hanging from his front gate while a dog tried to bite my butt.

  Chapter 23

  I WAITED A FEW minutes until they’d gone, thanking every deity that I could name that I hadn’t brought my easily recognisable car. Then I pulled out onto the street and headed for home. Bok was snoring by the second set of traffic lights.

  I was so tired that the white lines on the road had turned to doubles, so I fished in my bag and found a small packet of red frogs – food-van booty. The frogs gave me a bit of a lift but I was still too exhausted to take Bok to his place, which would mean another hour faffing around getting him up in the lift. Instead, I manhandled him out of Mona and into my flat where I dumped him on the couch.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s a friend,’ I told Cass when she raised her head from under her blanket. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  We all slept until late.

  I woke up less tired but weighed down by dread. Toni Tozzi. Johnny Viaspa. Audrey. Bolo. Death threats. The race. It was hard to pick which one to fixate on first, so I crawled out of bed and stumbled to the sink, where I drank a litre of water without stopping to draw a breath.

  Cass was buried under her blanket still, and Bok’s face was buried into the back of the couch. I checked he was still breathing then slapped him across the head.

  He surfaced like a drowning man, eyes blinking, mouth open and gasping. ‘Whaaa-at –’

  ‘– were you thinking?’ I blasted him.

  He saw it was me and groggily swung his feet onto the floor. ‘Fuck. Who painted the world white?’

  I switched on the kettle and started spooning coffee into cups. ‘You owe me a conversation. So get with it.’

  ‘T. Go easy. I’m delicate,’ he moaned.

  ‘Outside,’ I ordered without sympathy and led the way.

  We sat in JoBob’s garden chairs, in the sunshine, and he squinted while he sipped coffee. ‘Why did you let me do that?’ he said.

  It was a question we’d often asked each other over the years at various times. Our answer to one another was always the same. ‘Suck it up.’

  But I let him finish his first cup, and got him a refill and a pair of sunnies, before I dumped on him.

  He didn’t speak much as I got through my list of worries, including seeing Toni Tozzi with Johnny Viaspa last night.

  When I’d finished, Bok looked wide awake and a little too freaked out. I relied on him to be the calm one; the one with the plan. I didn’t like seeing him rattled.

  ‘This is what you’re going to do. You ring Ignatius and tell him what you know, then pull Wal off the job and have him watch you,’ he said firmly, thrusting his finger at me for emphasis. ‘And you ring Fiona Bligh and give her the numberplate of the car that’s been following you and tell her someone’s tried to break into your flat.’

  ‘But that’ll bring up all the Tozzi/Viaspa stuff and I don’t want to go there.’

  ‘Tara,’ he said sternly, ‘you have no choice.’

  He was right. I couldn’t continue pretending I could handle this.

  ‘What about Antonia?’ I said.

  ‘None of your business – it’ll only make more trouble when you’ve got more than enough already. Keep out of it. Let Nick Tozzi take care of his own house.’

  ‘But it’s Viaspa she’s buying her gear from.’

  He shrugged. ‘Still not your worry. You don’t want to give Viaspa another reason for wanting you dead.’

  There was nothing sarcastic or melodramatic about Bok’s tone. He was in earnest.

  I stood up. ‘Okay. I’ll go to the gym, then I’ll call Bolo and Bligh.’

  ‘Why do you need to go to the gym first?’

  ‘I want to have a clear head.’ And keep my appointment with Nice Guy.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘You promise you’ll call them today?’

  ‘By lunchtime. Cross my heart.’

  He stood up and gave me a hug. ‘Sensible girl.’

  Back inside, Cass was wide awake and bubbling over about a job interview at the Claremont Growers Market on Monday.

  ‘It’s for the fish department. But I’ll be able to move to greengroceries as soon as a spot opens.’

  ‘That’s great, Cass,’ I said, surprised by her excitement.

  I settled back to enjoy the ham and cheese croissants she produced from the oven. After my fourth, I had a shower and unearthed some clean gym gear. Since Wal’s departure the place had fallen back into sad disarray but mess had order, when it was your own.

  My phone rang. It was Lloyd Honey.

  ‘Tara, I have that information for you.’

  ‘Yes?’ I said.

  ‘It took a little digging but Instant Security is a partnership between Jensen Bridges and John Viaspa.’

  ‘Jensen Br
idges!’ I nearly choked. He was the crooked politician who’d been turning a blind eye to Viaspa’s mining lease rort. Crap, this just got worse. I mentally added Lena Vine to my to-call-today list.

  ‘I see you know him.’

  ‘Of him, yes.’ Of his dirty exploits.

  ‘I’m also emailing you a list of the companies owned by Riley and Ignatius. I hope it is of some help.’

  ‘Lloyd, I think I love you,’ I said by way of thank you.

  ‘My pleasure, Tara. Be safe. These are not pleasant people you are dealing with.’

  ‘I will, Lloyd.’

  I opened my laptop and waited impatiently for it to boot up. Then I scanned Lloyd’s list. The only name that even vaguely rang a bell was Tex-E but I couldn’t think why. I sighed, shut the lid of my computer and put my beeping phone on charge. Then I told Cass I’d be back in an hour.

  Brains squawked at me for a scratch as I walked past, while Hoo hung from one leg and flapped his wings. I opened the door and tickled his belly, which got him screeching in mock protest. Brains didn’t like losing the attention and crawled over and bit the foot he was hanging from. Hoo screeched again and fluttered to the floor of the cage.

  I headed out to Mona. She positively glowed in the morning light. Soon as I could afford it I vowed to get her resprayed. The orange body and black flames along the bonnet were way too loud for a girl doing undercover work.

  A quick glance up and down the street and back at the house told me that no one was around. I could hear JoBob in the family room with the TV on.

  As soon as I passed the first cross-street on the way to the gym, though, I saw the dark sedan. My heart started to hammer and I had an overwhelming desire to plant my foot on the accelerator and just flat out race away. Instead, I took the next random corner and ducked and weaved in and out of all the side streets I knew.

  I suddenly wished I’d brought my phone with me. If Viaspa had set this guy on me it wouldn’t be to watch out for my wellbeing. I lost the sedan somewhere near View Street and headed on to the gym without being followed.

  ‘Tara!’

  It was Josh, waving to me from the back wall of the underground car park. He was standing close to a car with an open boot. Creepily, it looked like the one that had been following me.