‘Now and again. But only to people we know.’
‘Like us,’ said Warren. ‘Your hunk of a boyfriend, Warren Wonderful. And Lucky Les.’
‘Lucky Les, eh,’ said Les.
Warren reached over and punched him on the shoulder. ‘That’s you, baby.’
‘Yeah.’
The food arrived and they had a lovely, long breakfast talking and cracking corny jokes. Warren ordered more coffees and they continued the conversation. When they finished their second coffees they decided to make a move. On the way home, Les called into the dive shop to show the others the photo. Ian was on the phone again; Les gave him a wave and pointed the photo out to the others. They were impressed. Grace was still talking about it when they were standing on the verandah back at the house.
‘That’s hard to imagine,’ she said. ‘You see one drowning. Then you walk along the beach and see another.’
‘Yeah. Poor bloody Edwin,’ said Les.
‘He was such a nice person,’ said Clover. ‘Everybody liked him.’
‘Bad luck about his girlfriend,’ grunted Les.
‘Yes,’ said Clover. ‘You and Serina never quite hit it off, did you?’
‘I’d like to hit it off with her. With a size twelve Doc Marten. Right up her thrill-seeking Khyber.’
‘Now don’t be like that, Les,’ smiled Clover.
‘I still can’t get over the view from here,’ said Grace, looking out across the channel. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
Les snapped his fingers. ‘Hey, I just thought of something. I won’t be a minute.’
Les got his keys and walked out to the car. He’d completely forgotten that the stabilising binoculars Eddie had given him were still in the boot. He got them out and returned to the verandah.
‘Have a look at the view through these, Grace,’ he said, taking them out of their case and handing them to her.
Grace held them to her eyes. ‘Oh yes. Don’t these make a difference!’ She had a good look around then handed them to Clover.
‘Look at that,’ said Clover. ‘I can see right up to Dalmeny. These are great, Les. Where did you get them?’
‘Off a friend,’ said Les. ‘I forgot they were in the car.’
They all had a look then realised it was time to make a move if they were going to see Jimbo’s Blues Band. They left the house and walked down to the Festival. At the entrance they showed their wrist tags and joined the people inside.
‘Does anybody want a cool one?’ asked Warren.
‘Not on top of all that food,’ said Clover.
Les agreed. ‘Count me out.’
Grace pointed out the big tent where Jimbo was playing. ‘Why don’t we find a seat?’
There were plenty of people around, but it wasn’t as crowded as the night before. They got four seats, six back from the stage, and weren’t there long before Jimbo strolled on stage wearing a red hat and a Hawaiian shirt. The band followed and Jimbo walked up to the mike. He rambled away about having a singalong, then produced a piece of cardboard with the lyrics to ‘What A Wonderful World This Would Be’ on it.
‘So you got it,’ he said pointing to the words. ‘Don’t know much about … Don’t know what a … Okay. Here we go.’
The crowd got into into it. Les and the others sang along. When the band finished that song, they slipped straight into ‘Bye Bye Baby’. And behind all the fooling around, Jimbo and his band were tighter than a vice done up, and he had one of the best blues voices in the business. They scorched it and several other songs. Les and Grace took photos. The band played some more howling rock, then Jimbo stood on his head and sang two songs. He stood up, put on his Indian war bonnet and wore it till they finished the set. They did ‘Statesborough Blues’ for an encore and finished to a tumultuous applause.
‘That guy,’ said Clover. ‘He is … what can I say?’
‘They can boogie,’ said Warren. ‘I know that.’
Grace pointed to her program. ‘They’re on again tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be here,’ said Les.
Warren rose to his feet. ‘I got to have a snakes.’
‘Okay.’ Clover pointed towards the middle of the park. ‘See that table and bench seats? We’ll wait for you there. You want anything?’
‘Yeah. Grab me a fruit juice, will you.’
Warren left for the toilet. The others moved across to the wooden table. Clover and Grace went for the drinks while Les minded their bags, then they stood around waiting for Warren. They finished their fruit juices and after a while Les looked at his watch.
‘Where’s Warren gone for a leak?’ he said. ‘The state forest?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Clover. ‘He’s certainly taking his time.’
‘He might have stopped at the souvenir stall,’ suggested Grace.
A minute or two later, Warren appeared walking unsteadily through the crowd. He looked pale and the two men who had been checking Les out the night before were standing on either side of him. One was holding Warren’s arm and another man with a thick moustache followed behind. Walking in front as if he owned the park, was a tall, heavy-framed man with thick, tattooed arms, wearing black jeans and a yellow Big Rock Fishing Club polo shirt. He had a mop of unruly black hair pushed back from a wide, bony forehead, and on either side of a flat nose, two beady, dark eyes glared menacingly at everything in sight.
‘Oh shit,’ said Grace. ‘It’s Morgan bloody Scully.’
The man holding Warren pushed him towards Les and the others. Warren bumped against the table and Clover took hold of his arm.
The tall man gave Les a heavy once up and down. ‘So you’re Les Norton.’ He had a dull, rasping voice and when he opened his mouth, his teeth looked like a row of charred railway sleepers. ‘You’re a shitty fuckin waiter. You live in Cox Ave Bondi. And this is your little bumboy, Warren Edwards.’
‘I don’t know what’s going on, Les,’ said Warren. ‘They grabbed me coming out the toilet and went through my wallet. They found out where we live and I told them you were a waiter.’
‘That’s okay, Woz,’ said Les. ‘Are you all right?’
Warren winced and held his stomach. ‘Yeah. I’m all right.’
Les turned to the tall man. ‘Okay. That’s me. I’m a waiter. I work in a restaurant at Bondi. Now what’s your problem …?’
‘Morgan,’ rasped the man in the polo shirt. ‘And you’re the cunt with the problem. That was my uncle, and his mates, you bashed up in the pub last night.’
Les slowly shook his head. ‘I’m not sure …’
‘Ohh don’t give me the fuckin shits,’ snapped Morgan. ‘It was you.’
‘All right,’ said Les, tightly. ‘It was me. So what?’
‘So what?’ Morgan’s eyes blazed. ‘So you’re pretty good bashing up old blokes when they’re drunk. Let’s see how you go against someone a bit younger.’ Morgan jabbed a thumb in his chest. ‘Me.’
‘You want to fight me over those four clowns?’ said Les. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘No I’m not fuckin kiddin’.’ Morgan nodded towards the entrance. ‘You and me. Outside.’
Norton’s mind started racing. He was seething at what Morgan and his thugs had done to poor Warren and under normal circumstances he would have ripped straight into Morgan on the spot, big and all as he was. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Norton’s back was buggered. If he went outside he was on a hiding to nothing. And even if could put up half a fight, Morgan had three big mates with him. It was time for Les to do a Brer Rabbit. And Brer Rabbit better be able to tap dance pretty bloody fast. At that moment Norman Dadd loomed up in a bulky T-shirt and jeans with four nervous-looking security people.
‘Not in here, Morgan,’ he said, loud and clear.
‘Ohh don’t shit yourself, Daddy,’ said Morgan. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen in here.’ He turned and glared at Norton. ‘But it will outside.’
Les looked back at Morgan and half smiled. ‘Hang on a moment, Morgan,’ he said easil
y. ‘You’re going about this all the wrong way, baby. You’re blowing your cool.’
Morgan glowered at Les. ‘I’m what?’
‘You’re blowing your cool, brother. When you come to a fork in the road, take it. You’re walking backwards when you should be putting your best foot forward. There’s fire in your eyes, but you got water on the brain. You’re surrounded by yes men and stuck in nowheresville. You’ve got the world on a string and enough rope to hang yourself.’
‘What the …?’
‘You’re that far down, Morgan,’ continued Les, ‘rock bottom is three flights up. Someone’s pulled the rug from over your eyes. You’re a cool swinger, but you can’t handle the heat. You’ve got to roll off your high end and adjust your tone control dude. Opportunity’s knocking …’
Morgan’s face coloured and he turned to his team. ‘What’s this cunt talking about?’
‘I don’t know,’ shrugged the man with the moustache. ‘But fuck him anyway.’
‘What am I talking about?’ said Les. ‘What am I saying? What am I trying to tell you? Is that what you’re asking me?’
‘I’m not asking you anything,’ said Morgan. ‘I just fuckin want you outside.’
‘That’s what I’m saying,’ said Les. ‘Anything and everything. And anything’s better than nothing.’ Les smiled at Morgan. ‘In other words, why don’t we do it for money?’
Morgan stared at Les, looked at his mates for a moment then stared back to Les. ‘For what?’
‘For money,’ said Les. ‘I’ll fight you for five thousand dollars.’ Les watched Morgan’s eyes knit together and he could hear the boulders slowly rumbling around behind the big man’s forehead. Morgan’s mates stayed quiet. Standing in front of his security staff, Daddy looked surprised as well as interested. Warren and the others were still mystified.
‘Well. What do you say, Morgan?’ said Les.
‘I’m …’
‘Look at it this way, Morgan,’ said Les. ‘If we go outside and fight, the cops’ll come and break it up. We’ll both get pinched and it’ll cost you money. I’ll leave town still in one piece. And you’ll have proved nothing. Right?’ Morgan half nodded in agreement. ‘There’s no way I can beat you,’ continued Les. ‘But with money riding on the result, at least I’ll have a go.’ Les gestured to Morgan. ‘Well. What do you reckon? You’re a big, hard man. Are you game enough to back yourself in a fight?’
‘He’s got a point there, Morgan,’ said Daddy. ‘Are you game?’
‘Game? Of course I’m fuckin game,’ asserted Morgan.
‘Have you got five grand?’ said Daddy.
‘Yeah.’
‘Righto,’ said Les. ‘Then it’s on. In here one o’clock Monday afternoon after lunch, when there’s no one around. Just the blokes packing up.’ Les motioned for Morgan and Daddy to come in closer. ‘That all right with you?’ he asked Morgan.
‘Yeah,’ grunted Morgan.
‘Will you hold the money, Norm?’
‘No worries,’ said Norm.
‘I’ll have my five grand here in half an hour. Can you do that?’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Morgan.
‘And if anybody gets pissed and starts fighting before Monday, he forfeits his money. Right?’
Morgan nodded morosely. ‘Right.’
‘Good idea,’ said Norm.
‘Okay,’ said Les, stepping back. ‘That’s the rules. We’ll meet here again on Monday.’
Morgan pointed a calloused finger at Les. ‘Forget the fuckin rules. You just be here Monday, you big-mouthed prick. Because if you’re not, I know where you live. And I’ll come looking for you.’
‘He’s not joking,’ said Norm seriously. ‘I know these blokes. They’ll come after you all right.’
Les held his hands up. ‘Fair enough. I’ll be here.’
‘Make sure you fuckin are.’ Morgan gave the nod to his mates and they left.
There was a brittle silence for a moment as Les looked pensively around him, then caught Clover’s eye.
‘What in God’s name was that all about?’ she asked.
‘How about I explain everything back at the house.’ Les turned to Daddy. ‘Norm. Okay if I have a word with you on your own?’
‘Sure,’ replied Daddy. ‘Come over to the souvenir tent.’
Les caught Clover’s eye again. ‘I won’t be long.’
Norm dismissed his four, relieved, security people. Les walked with him and the others as far as the souvenir tent, then followed Norm. At the rear of the tent was a caged-off annexe with a wire gate. Norm opened the gate and they stepped into a room full of T-shirts, cartons of CDs, brochures and other merchandise. There was a table and two plastic chairs in the middle. Norm sat down on one chair and Les sat facing him across the table on the other.
‘Well Norm,’ said Les. ‘You saw what happened outside.’
‘I sure did,’ answered Norm. ‘You’re not bad on your feet, are you?’
‘Norm. I’ve only got about a grand on me. And my credit cards. Can you spring me the five grand? You know me and who I run with. I’ll have it back to you first thing next week.’
‘Spring you the five grand?’ said Norm. ‘Mate, I’m backing you. I’m going to organise the side bets.’ Norm grinned and rubbed his big hands together. ‘You’ll be the underdog. I’ll get three to one.’ Norm threw back his head and laughed. ‘Morgan’s bloody good. But he sure ain’t you.’
‘Norm. Before you get too carried away,’ said Les, ‘I’ve got a fucked back.’
‘You’ve what?’
Les told Norm about his back and how he aggravated it in the fight. ‘What I was mainly doing out there was buying time. I couldn’t knock a sick pygmy off a piss pot at the moment.’
‘Oh,’ said Norm. ‘That could be somewhat of a handicap if you’re going to fight Morgan.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Les. ‘But I’m getting some treatment on my back. I might be all right.’ Les looked directly at Norm.
‘If not, I’ll ring Eddie. He’ll be here in four hours.’
Norm put his hands in front of him and looked away. ‘I didn’t hear that.’
‘I know,’ said Les. ‘That is taking things to extremes. And I’ll cop all the heat if the big goose suddenly disappears. But I don’t fancy finishing up a cripple either.’
Norm stared at Les. ‘So what happened in the pub?’
Les shook his head. ‘It was half my fault.’ He told Norm how the fight came about. How he lost his temper then simply went into the swing of things. ‘In a way I don’t blame that bloke for sticking up for his uncle. I did go a bit overboard, I suppose.’
‘Hey,’ said Norm. ‘Don’t be too concerned about sorting out old Mick and his mates. They’re cunts. And my missus has had to go around Mick’s place plenty of times and patch his wife up after Mick’s had a few drinks.’ There was a rap on the gate. It opened and a woman half the size of Daddy, with long dark hair and glasses walked in, wearing slacks and a Blues Festival T-shirt. ‘Hello. Talking about wives,’ said Norm. ‘Here’s the Handbrake now. Les this is Marina. Marina, Les Norton.’
‘Hello Les.’
‘Hello Marina. Nice to meet you.’
Marina looked at Norm. ‘We need some more extra large T-shirts.’
‘Okay. I’ll bring them out.’
‘And some Little Charlie CDs.’
‘No worries.’ Marina left and Norm turned back to Les. ‘All right. I’ll put up the five grand. What are you getting done to your back?’
‘I don’t know. Grace thinks she might be able to help me.’
‘Amazing’s working on you? Well, you’re in good hands.’ Norm lumbered to his feet then opened a drawer in the table. ‘Before you go. Have this.’ He handed Les a length of black cord, with a plastic ticket on a swivel that said: Narooma Blues Festival — GUEST.
‘What’s this?’ asked Les.
‘It lets you go backstage and meet the bands. Have a coffee and a bite to eat if you want.’
<
br /> Les stood up and put the backstage pass in his pocket. ‘Thanks Norm. That’s unreal.’
‘No worries,’ said Daddy.
‘And thanks, for everything else, Norm. I really appreciate it.’
‘That’s okay, Les. I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah. See you.’
Norm started going through the cartons. Les left him to it and headed for home, instinctively looking around as he walked out the front of the park. But Les felt he was safe for the time being. Nothing would happen before Monday. When he got to the house the door was open and the others were out on the verandah with a pot of tea sitting on the table. The colour had returned to Warren’s face, but he wasn’t doing any stand-up comedy. They all stared silently at Les. Les gave them a weak smile and a half wave.
‘Hi.’
‘Yeah hi,’ said Warren. He took a sip of tea. ‘Shit it’s good living with you, Les. Next time, as well as getting kidnapped, I might get knifed. Or shot.’
‘Are you all right, mate?’ asked Les, genuinely concerned.
‘Yeah. One of those clowns punched me in the stomach, that’s all.’
‘Which one?’
Warren ran a finger across his top lip. ‘Groucho Marx.’
‘Right.’ Les patted Warren on the shoulder. ‘And thanks for the bit about the waiter, Woz. You’re bloody staunch, mate.’ Warren shrugged a non-reply.
Clover gave Norton a very calculated once up and down. ‘All right Les,’ she said. ‘Exactly what is going on?’
Les indicated to the teapot. ‘Okay if I have a cup of tea?’
Les poured himself a cup of tea, added milk and sugar and told the others the whole story. ‘I suppose I should have told you about the fight. Except I felt like a dill and I honestly thought no one knew it was me. But they must have seen us out together. So they grabbed you, Woz, to get some info on me. Sorry about that mate.’
‘So it was you all the time, that beat up Mick Scully and his friends,’ said Grace.
‘Yes Grace. It was me,’ admitted Les.
Grace looked at Les and shook her head. ‘You’re certainly something else, Les. Aren’t you?’
‘I have to go to the toilet,’ said Warren, getting out of his chair.
Clover put her hand on the pot. ‘I’m going to put the kettle on again.’
Mystery Bay Blues Page 11