by Chris Krupa
I said, ‘Go downstairs into the main bar. My name’s Matt. I’ll meet you there at two o’clock.’
I hung up, and it hit me: he had my mobile number now.
Chapter 18
The constant back and forth between The Gong and Sydney started to take a toll. My shoulder ached from the wound, and the muscles surrounding it worked overtime to protect it. Chinatown restaurants held fish tanks overloaded with red emeralds and lobsters, and reminded me of my bucket list item: impressing a woman by selecting the biggest one, sharing it with her, then engaging in rambunctious sex.
Keep dreaming, Kowalski.
I almost missed my phone over the commotion of shoppers and tourists around me.
‘Matt, Evelyn.’ Her voice came in faint.
‘Evelyn. Hi.’
‘Can you hear me?’
‘I can only just hear you.’
I heard a rustle, then her voice came back strong. ‘Is this better?’
‘Yeah. Good. Better.’
‘Sorry. Jeff’s settled, and Caitlyn from the office is taking some pajamas and a book for him, so I’m getting a cab back into the city. Are you still around?’
‘I’m in Chinatown.’
‘Oh, okay.’
‘Look, I don’t know about you, but I could eat the crotch out of a horse. You hungry?’
‘I missed lunch because of the whole thing with Jeff.’
‘Well, I’m not too sure where to eat.’
‘I can show you a fantastic place in Chinatown,’ she continued. ‘Very cheap and very delicious. What do you say?’
Soon we were in a food hall eating chili flounder, a share plate of broccolini in oyster sauce, green curry beef with rice, and ice-cold beers on the side. We clinked bottles and Evelyn took a long pull.
‘Jeff’s fine,’ she said. ‘He looks like nothing’s happened to him. It’s unbelievable. Thank you for looking out for him. I mean it.’
I raised my bottle and winked. Despite the tired lines on her face, and the extra loose strands hanging out of her bun, she still looked great. Better than great.
She peeled some flesh off the flounder and ate it with some rice. ‘What did you think of my twisted sister and her Neanderthal husband?’
‘I thought they were very nice people.’
She laughed, and a little bit of fish flew out. We both ignored it.
I said, ‘Zara told me Tamsin visited her two weeks ago.’
‘Shit. I can only imagine how that went.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The two haven’t been on talking terms for years. What happened?’
‘Hard to say. Zara said Tamsin showed up at six o’clock and went upstairs for a while. She was pleasant, and they talked. Zara said the conversation didn’t make any real impact. After an hour, Zara turned around and Tamsin was gone.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense. She’s bullshitting. They can’t stand to be in the same room together. There’s no way my sister would forget that.’
‘You think maybe Zara got worked up and kicked her out?’
‘I’d put money on it. They could bring the house down with their screaming, those two. Each of them always wanted to have the last word. Drove me insane.’
She took a pull on her beer and stopped mid-swig. ‘Why the hell would Tamsin go there in the first place?’
‘Get something off her chest? Or talk about something important.’
Evelyn went quiet and ate three forkfuls in quick succession.
I said, ‘You okay?’
‘Remind me to tell you later.’
We fell into silence, and my phone reminder about Reggie’s lack of pay appeared up on my screen. I closed it and ate three of the broccolinis,
Evelyn shook her head. ‘I said to her once that Tamsin should have been mine.’
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious. ‘What did she say to that?’
‘She talked about her three-thousand-dollar Jimmy Choo pumps for half an hour.’
She laughed at that, full and throaty. Light shone through fine hairs on her jaw line, and I wanted to kiss them.
She settled into a smile. ‘Not many guys can carry a conversation these days. It’s been nice talking to you.’
‘And you. What do guys talk about these days?’
‘Well, when they’re not staring at their phones, it’s all work, work, work. In my line of work, it’s either sixty-year-old married men, or university graduates trying to get into your pants.’
‘What about forty-something, bald divorcees?’
‘Absolutely not. But who knows? If you see one, tell me. If they’re tall and good looking, I’ll think about it.’
We finished the meal and left together.
Evelyn said she’d get a cab, but as we walked and talked along George Street, I noticed that she ignored several cabs as they cruised by. We headed east and reached Potts Point. Evelyn said she lived a block away and asked if I wanted a night cap.
I was flattered by the attention.
Evelyn had a glamourous quality, and was above my league in terms of money and looks, and I felt like a non-celebrity hooking up with someone famous.
We went up into an ultra-modern apartment block, where she offered me a seat, and within minutes she re-emerged with her hair out over her shoulders, wearing a silk kimono tie robe. She went into the kitchen and re-emerged with two glasses in one hand, and a bottle of white wine in the other. She poured out the drinks, and sat on the opposite couch with her feet tucked up under her legs as women like to do.
I said, ‘I might have to talk to homicide.’
She tilted her head. ‘Jeff made it very clear you can’t talk to the police. It’s in the contract.’
‘Fine, I get that. But I managed to get my hands on the autopsy reports. It looks like the same weapon was used to kill both Tamsin’s roommate and another woman, Pavali Singh.’
‘I read about that. Let the police work that out. That’s their job.’
I didn’t tell her about the other connections I had, nor that I’d been stabbed in a brothel Tamsin worked at.
I took a sip of the wine and it tasted surprisingly delicious. ‘Does Jeff have any connection to Senior Detective Mike Ivers?’
‘It’s a moot point. Mike Ivers has a connection to the Acting Police Commissioner, and that’s all that matters.’
‘It’s the next logical step. I could get intel on Tamsin from them. This could work both ways. We can’t just assume the Acting Police Commissioner will find out.’
‘He’d be pissed to hear you even thinking about doing this. He wants you to find her without telling the police. Full stop.’
‘Jeff can’t expect me to look for Tamsin and cut out certain lines of inquiry. I need to weigh up the difference between a personal grievance and using everything I have in my power to find Jeff’s daughter.’
Evelyn took a long sip and pointed a finger up at the ceiling. ‘There is another alternative.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Maybe you won’t have to go to the police.’
I raised an eyebrow.
She cleared her throat. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, and please don’t say anything to Jeff. Do you swear?’
I drew an X over my chest.
She said, ‘Tamsin’s been seeing someone for a long time. Jeff doesn’t know.’
‘Why? What’s the problem?’
‘He’s a Mormon.’
I laughed. ‘That’s Mormonist.’
‘And apparently, it’s serious.’
‘Tamsin told you this?’
She nodded.
I said, ‘How serious?’
‘She told me they’ve been shopping for an engagement ring. And there is no chance in hell Jeff would ever approve of his only daughter marrying a Mormon.’ She stared at me. ‘I need to have your word that Jeff never finds out.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this when you signed the contract? Or at the very least tell me h
is name?’
‘In front of Jeff’s business associates, co-workers, and employees? And anyway, I only know his first name, so there’s no point.’
‘What is it?’
‘Adam.’
‘Does he go to Sydney University?’
‘No, he’s in Canberra. He’s three years into an engineering degree.’
‘Tamsin seems too practical to be thinking about marriage.’
Never mind the fact I think she’s gay.
She sighed. ‘I know how this sounds, but nothing like this has ever happened to Tamsin. She’s head over heels. She confided this to me and me only.’
‘Any idea where I could talk to Adam?’
She grimaced. ‘That’s the awkward thing. I think they’ve eloped.’
I scoffed. ‘Jesus, Evelyn! Again, you don’t think to tell me this?’
She closed the gap between us and took my hands in hers. ‘I swore to never interfere in her life.’
‘Fair enough, I respect that. But do you mean to tell me you have no idea where they could be right now?’
‘No, and I don’t want to know. Do you remember what it was like at that age? I know I wanted to be free. Matt, they’re young, they’re in love, and they’ve run off for a bit of fun. They can’t eat when they’re apart from each other for more than a day. It’s not up to anyone to say if it’s right or wrong. We just have to accept it.’
‘But marriage? She’s barely twenty years old.’
‘I know, but every twenty-year-old knows what’s best for them, am I right? And say it all falls apart... she’ll always have a soft place to land, and she can chalk it up to life experience. I’ll be there to pick up the pieces, she can cry into a bucket of ice cream, we’ll watch shitty movies, and we’ll talk it out over lots and lots of wine. Eventually, she’ll get on with her life, but right now he’s all she can think about. They only have one thing on their minds, and trust me, I know what that’s like.’
She got up and refilled her glass, and offered to do the same for me. ‘What do they say? Behind every great man is a woman? The problem is the woman is like a duck, calm and in control on top, but kicking like mad under the water to stay afloat. Sometimes it’s too much. I get so tense, and there’s no release.’
I looked at the view but didn’t see it. I turned to her and pushed a strand of hair back from her face, deliberately touching her ear.
She faced me and ran a soft hand over the stubble on my scalp. ‘I love this look. Very masculine.’
We stood face to face, with only an inch of anticipation between us. Her hands ran down my arms, and a shiver of anticipation ran through me.
‘I have a very naughty confession to make,’ she said. “I had a serious crush on Michael Klim during the Sydney Olympics. Swimmers have the best bodies.’ Her fingers ran over my shoulders and down my arms. ‘The wide shoulders, the V-shape down into those hot divots just on the waist, ripped stomachs, the hot arse.’
Her fingers felt every bump and crevice of my torso, and a breathless thrill tickled my stomach.
I said, ‘I’m no Michael Klim, and I’ve missed the gym for a month.’
‘Don’t care.’
‘Just don’t want to disappoint you.’
She lifted her face up to me. ‘Don’t then.’
I kissed her slowly. She kissed me back and her tongue ran over my teeth. I pushed back with my tongue and she moaned. Her thin frame felt light in my arms, and her thin waist didn’t give me much to hold on to. I reached back and cupped her buttocks. We kissed some more, and with each minute that passed, the hotter and more breathless we became. She gripped my shirt at the sides and started rolling it up over my chest. I raised my arms and helped her clear the gauze on my chest. With the shirt gone, she touched the wound.
‘Comes with the job,’ I said.
She ran her hands over my chest and licked a nipple. I bunched up her dress and exposed her waist. I ran my fingers around her hips and down the sides of her thighs as she ran her tongue in circles over my chest. Her breath came hot and fast. I brought her face back up and kissed down the side of her delicate neck and across and under her chin, and as I took in her scent, she turned her head and bit my earlobe.
I flinched.
She said, ‘Sorry’ and put a hand to my ear. She looked pained.
I smiled. ‘It’s okay. I liked it.’
She smiled, took my hand, and led me down the hall. We entered the main bedroom and we kissed again, this time a little slower. She unbuckled my belt and I took off my pants and shoes and socks. She knelt down and kissed the outside of my boxer shorts, and I could feel her breath through the material. She ran her hands across my arse and squeezed. I couldn’t take it for long, and she must have sensed it as she stood up again and smiled.
‘Do you speak Italian?’
I nodded. ‘Little bit.’
‘What can you say?’
‘Che bella, bella mia, that sort of thing.’
‘What does that mean?
‘My beautiful.’
‘Say it again.’
‘Bella mia.’
She groaned and kissed me hard.
‘Sei bella.’
I pulled on the tie and she slipped out of her kimono. I pulled it down over shoulders and threw it on the bed. I clumsily took of my shorts until we were pressed together, her faultless porcelain body rubbing against my chest hair. Her skin appeared almost luminescent, even in the dim light of the bedroom. We moved to the bed and clambered up towards the headboard.
She quickly squatted over me and tenderly gripped my penis. She lifted it up and moved it back and forth over her vulva as our breaths came short and fast. She quickly put me inside her and let her body slide into it. She rose and fell in long rhythmic pulses, driving me out to the tip then jamming me in deep with a hard thrust.
I grabbed her around the waist and we made an awkward roll into the missionary position, both of us not wanting to break contact with the other. I made small movements with my hips, and she gripped the headboard with both hands and clenched her teeth. We explored and found what each other liked, and went further. She made gasping sounds against my chest, and flicked her hips up against mine on the upstroke. Suddenly she made three quick pulses and grunted from her abdomen. I held back as much as I could, then lost it, and we ended up half unconscious, our bellies clammy and the room tinged with the salty aroma of sex.
I half slept, half woke, and didn’t feel comfortable. Unlike the movies, we didn’t sleep spooning each other.
Evelyn wasn’t the type to wrap the sheet around her or wear my shirt in the morning. Instead, she quickly got dressed, strode to the bathroom, and closed the door. A moment later, the button clicked and the shower started.
I got up and reluctantly put yesterday’s clothes back on.
From the lounge room, I took in the view from the tiny veranda. If I stood at one corner, I could make out a glimpse of the harbour.
‘Shower’s yours,’ Evelyn called out dismissively.
I quickly rinsed without using the loofah, and used a dab of toothpaste on my finger to get rid of the morning breath. When I came out, Evelyn was fully dressed in a professional pink, high-waisted pencil skirt and white Portofino shirt. She’d slicked her hair back in the popular wet style.
‘Busy day?’ she said as she packed a bottle of water into a cooler carrier.
‘I’m following up on a line of enquiry, and then I’ll head back to The Gong. Maybe we can do dinner again?’
‘We’ll see where the cards may fall.’
She crossed the floor in long strides, kissed me quick, and ran a hand over my face. ‘You need a shave. Let yourself out, okay?’
She quickly snatched up her handbag and a matching pink jacket, and left.
I walked the short way back to the little laneway off Oxford Street, expecting to see my car up on bricks. Thankfully, it wasn’t. As I drove across to Camperdown, I thought about what Evelyn said about Tamsin’s fiancé, Adam.
It didn’t ring true with Tamsin’s extra-curricular activities as a sex worker, nor did it align with the only photo I could find of Tamsin, lying in bed with Heather.
Neither of which exclusively said she was gay, but everything indicated as such.
I had hours to kill until the meeting with Warwick Fripp, so I parked in the free car park at Broadway Shopping Centre, and took out a set of black knuckledusters from my toolbox in the back tray of the ute.
If Fripp started trouble, I’d use them, and if he was the cowardly type, I’d threaten him with them. He was dealing with tough guys, and I had to put up the pretense that I was one of them. I window shopped for sunglasses until my phone rang.
‘Matt Kowalski.’
‘Zara Venables speaking.’
‘Hi, Zara. How’s Ed?’
‘Fine, no thanks to you. The little bitch took the cheque.’
‘Sorry... what?’
‘Listen, I thought about what you said, and it was ticking over in my head. Why would Tamsin come to my house? Why would Tamsin come to my house? Then I remembered the blank cheque Jeff gave her for her eighteenth birthday. Tamsin kept it in a wardrobe in the spare bedroom, with her school photos and her sports trophies, but she never cashed it. She didn’t even want it. Don’t ask me, as I have no idea why. I had a look and, sure enough, it’s missing. I bet the little bitch must have taken it.’
Chapter 19
The Knox Street Bar was situated in a quiet laneway a block south of Broadway. Twenty years ago, I joined a group of mates out on the town and, on a whim, we stumbled across the bar where, to our surprise, Pseudo Echo were performing live. I picked up a Spanish exchange student and we did it under a bed sheet in a share house in Bondi. Those memories flooded back as I passed under the nondescript awning through the heavy gated door, down the industrial stairs into the cavernous space where high tables occupied dark corners.
A new bar had been put in, backlit with white light and stocked floor to ceiling with an assortment of drinks from around the world. A man matching Fripp’s description occupied a small table at the rear corner, staring into his beer. I ordered a schooner from the barman, and as I approached Fripp, he looked up and smiled uneasily, baby teeth set in big gums.