Incy Wincy Spider Read online

  Chapter 3

  Sydney - Wednesday: 23 September

  Maria woke me up the next morning when she opened the office at seven, as she had done every weekday since she had started working with me. My own hours were a lot more ? err ... Flexible.

  "Have you been sleeping in here all night long? This place smells like I don't know what!" she said, opening the only window, just as I was surfacing toward reality.

  "What does an 'I don't know what', smell like?" I asked, always eager to learn more.

  "Like the pies from that place, except worse," she retorted.

  "Don't remind me," I begged with a shiver in my voice.

  "Why do you two insist on eating there?" she asked, looking at me, with no pity in her eyes

  "Tradition? it's a boy thing," I edged: I really have no idea why we still battle with those pies; one day they'll kill one of us. I changed the subject, "Everything OK, then?" I asked, still worried.

  "It will be," she assured me. "What did Steve have to say?" She asked, changing the subject in turn.

  I told her what Steve had said, including our discussion of Roger, Steve's dog.

  "Roger is sweet," she said, surprising me.

  Had she been to Steve's place? How come I did not know about it? I let it pass, for now.

  "I guess you will go and have another talk with Lidia and while you are there why not talk to the house staff and finally to the unethical doctor?" She continued, in a way that it wasn't really a question.

  "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing." I lied.

  "Really?"She asked, surprised.

  "Yeah," I lied again.

  "I phoned Lidia yesterday afternoon, she is expecting you at 9. You have plenty of time to go home and take a shower first." She said and looked at me with an expression that should be reserved only for wives, and not for the objects of our wildest fantasies.

  "Yeah, I was on my way to my apartment right now, you bet" I lied, this was becoming a habit. I came off the lounge and made my way toward the door.

  "Good, then ? I guess?I'll see you later on, Louie," she said. But the tone in her voice stopped me. I turned around and looked at her and was about to say something; anything. But she smiled to reassure me that all was OK, and waved me to go on.

  "Uh?OK see you soon, Maria" I said uncertainly, wanting to say more, wanting to ask her what was going on, but being unable to phrase it so that it did not come out sounding like the third degree. "...then, see you, soon" I repeated uselessly, turned and left.

  I wish I hadn't.

  My studio apartment is situated within walking distance of my office in an inner city suburb with the endearing name of Woolloomooloo. The flat is basically, a very expensive cupboard with the redeeming feature that from its miniscule balcony I can see the blue waters of Sydney Cove. I can even see a small portion of the now famous Finger Wharf.

  For many years, Finger Wharf was reputed to be the largest timbered-piled building in the world. It was finished in 1915 at which time it was used to export bales of wool to the 'old Country'. It was also used to export Australian troops for the protection of the 'old Country' in two World Wars. As such, it may have been the last part of Australia that many Diggers touched before going to strange lands to be killed for obscure reasons by almost identical young men.

  Today it has been extensively revamped as an expensive multifunctional complex, consisting of a five star hotel, restaurants, shops and residential apartments, which are some of the most expensive and sought after residences in the country, probably due in part, to a well-known 'Gladiator' having his own $14 million penthouse on Finger Wharf.

  And with that, who needs anything else? That is, essentially, all I had: a bed and a good stereo system and a view.

  I am not one for cooking, or washing up. I had no pots, dishes, cups or cutlery. I did not need to cook - just down the stairs was Sergio's Caf?, an excellent little Italian restaurant and espresso coffee bar. As I passed Sergio's establishment to enter the little doorway that led to my apartment, I waved to him and he knew to prepare and bring up a double-shot short black with no sugar and two croissants with ham and cheese. They would be waiting for me when I finished showering.

  I don't like washing clothes either, by the time you wash and get them dry or even take them to the dry-cleaners and all the rest?what a fucking hassle! Instead, I jump into Lowes (there is a Lowes-Clothes-Discount-Store in every shopping centre of every suburb in Sydney, it must be Council Ordinance or something) a few times a year and buy a couple of dozen of everything I need. I throw the used ones into the Smith's Family or St. Vinnie's bin when I'm done wearing them, charity begins at home, right?

  Cleaned, clothed and breakfasted I was ready for some detecting. I drove towards Lidia's house in my other vice: Doris.

  Doris is a fully reconditioned 1955 Cadillac Eldorado, and she is the love of my life. No doubt, she is a petrol-guzzling dinosaur in this day and age, with a carbon footprint of a T-Rex, but who cares? Not me, I love looking at her, sitting in her and driving her. On a nice spring morning, even sex is not as good as driving with Doris with her top down, believe me. Okay, okay, maybe not, but it's close.

  And as luck would have it, it was a beautiful spring morning.

  Sydney, for the most part, has a temperate climate: most days are great, some are a little hot in the middle of summer and in winter the temperature seldom gets below ten degrees C. But spring and autumn are the best: mornings are bright and crisp and make you feel like life was meant to be easy. While other parts of the world are suffering under all sorts of calamities, like tornadoes, cyclones, floods, avalanches and the like, 'Sydneyites' complain if the temperature rises above thirty!

  So I put the top down on Doris and feeling great, I cruised through the city streets, past Hyde Park and down William Street toward the part of Sydney known as the Eastern Suburbs, land of the rich and famous and of a lot of Kiwis, our close brothers from New Zealand.

  Lidia lived in an 'eastern' suburb of Sydney called Point Piper. Point Piper was named after a Scottish-born military officer, Captain John Piper, who arrived in the newly formed colony in 1792. He quickly had a mansion built by the freely available convict labour on 190 acres of waterfront land, which today would include not only Point Piper but also portions of Double Bay and Rose Bay. Unfortunately, a review of Capt. Piper's performance as the head of the Customs led to his attempted suicide by drowning in one of the wonderful bays that were his backyard. He was subsequently forced to sell his holdings at Point Piper for ?5 000, and move to the bush. How are the mighty and greedy fallen!

  Today, the price per square metre of real estate in Point Piper is one of the most expensive in the world, To give you an idea, the total value of the properties water-fronting on just one kilometre of the Wolseley Road has been estimated to be just a smidgen below a billion Australian dollars. That's a thousand dollars for each millimetre!

  The Harrison residence was a multi-floor mansion on the waterfront. From my balcony, I could see one of the best harbours in the world; the Harrisons could swim in it, had they been crazy enough to tease the resident and always hungry sharks.

  As expected a security guard in a smart uniform, stopped me at the gate.

  "Hi, I am Louie Breccia, and I am expected." I said, waving my PI license as if it was a ticket to Xanadu, and Kublai Khan's widow was expecting me for lunch.

  "Yes sir, please drive through." He said smartly, but I caught him eying my Doris with impudence.

  "Nice car," he said as I passed.

  "You bet," I answered the pervert, and without hesitation, drove through.

  I drove up the short circular driveway to the front door of the mansion, and parked. I had expected a maid or a butler to open the front door, but Lidia herself was there to welcome me in.

  "Impressive," she said.

  "I know? the car looks good too," I said and she was polite enough to smile at my lame joke.

  "How are you today, Louie?"
She asked showing me in. She did not look good today; it must have been a sleepless night. Her features were pale and drawn.

  "I am fine, thank you. How are you doing?" I asked.

  "I have had better days or nights. Thank you for asking, Louie? please? come... this way," she answered, showing me into an elegantly attired lounge room, which must have been three times bigger than my entire flat. She sat on the white leather lounge and I picked one of the very comfortable looking armchairs.

  "Would you like a drink?" She asked.

  "I am fine thanks, Lidia," I said, fighting the need to take my shoes off and curl up into a foetal position, the chair felt like a womb. "I need to ask you ? just a few more questions, if you don't mind. Then I would like the address of your ? err ? doctor" I said, not one to beat around the bush.

  "Why would you want to talk to him?" she asked, trying to hide her sudden alarm.

  "Lidia, you hired me as a detective. It should not come as a surprise that what I do is 'detect'. It would be a real good idea if you stopped all this bull and started being straight with me. You know, I am working for you and I only have your interest in mind. I think you know very well why I wish to talk to him." I said, probably a little more harshly than was necessary. What the hell, once started, I do tend to get carried away.

  She looked at me for a long time, at one point I thought she was going to break out and cry, but she was a tough lady on the inside, and quickly got a grip on herself.

  "Yes, I guess I do? I am impressed, Louie, it did not take you long to tear open my sordid life," she said in a matter of fact tone.

  "It's what I do, Lidia," I said. "It would have been a real good idea if you had been straight with me from the get-go." I added.

  "Yes, I see that now. Okay, Louie, let's start again? no more lies," she promised, like a good little girl would do, to a scolding parent. That's when I realized what she was really like:a grown up little girl lost in a life she had not been prepared for and had never imagined.

  "Good," I said, easing my tone and smiling, and resisting the temptation of adding 'girl' at the end of it.

  "My marriage was crap, Louie. Ian was as gay as they come from the very beginning. He married me so he could stay in the closet for as long as possible. Lately, I needed something in my life too, and Mho has been there for me." She said, admitting it as if it was a sin, and I was her confessor.

  "Mho?" I asked.

  "Dr Mohamed Sing, he is the kindest and most beautiful person I know," she said, brightening up at the mere thought of his name.

  "I see," I said noncommittally.

  "Ian had many lovers? all male. No token females for Ian, not even his own wife" She said bitterly.

  "How long have you been seeing Mho?" I asked

  "About six months, and don't worry, he is not married," she added as if that was going to matter to me or as if I was sitting there in secret judgment of her actions.

  "Why didn't you get a divorce?" I asked.

  "I was afraid of being left with nothing.I married Ian against my parent's wishes, as I think I told you. They hated him and mistrusted him from the very start. But, I did not listen; I thought I had found my one true love. Ian insisted on a prenuptial, I did not know why at the time but, I was so in love with him that I agreed without thinking. Recently, I decided I wanted out of the situation and I really did not care if I ended in the poor house or not, I just wanted out of the scam that was our marriage? we had a really bad fight a few days ago when I told him I was going to get a divorce. He hit the roof ? he was so angry. He shouted that there was no way that would happen, and then he laughed and said I would be penniless. I lied and told him that I had evidence of all his infidelities and that most courts with that sort of evidence would ignore the pre-nup. That got him really wild. He shouted that he would kill me first? I thought he was going to kill me, literally. He hit me to the floor and had his hands around my neck, choking me. Fortunately, Henry intervened and I was able to get away. I stayed away for the whole day and night. When I returned, the next morning, I found him naked in our bed, dead. I called the police, and later I called Henry," she said, her words coming out like air being released from a pressure can, "the bed looked like it had been the stage of one of his disgusting orgies," she added with an unpleasant expression on her pale face.

  "Why didn't you tell me all this yesterday?" I asked.

  "It's all so ? so, I don't know ? dirty, disgusting ? embarrassing. I was brought up very strictly, Louie, catholic education, catholic all-girls school, I was a virgin when I married Ian and, would you believe it? I was still a virgin when I met Mho. This sort of stuff was all new to me all? so, so frightening I guess." she answered.

  "So, where did you go, when you left here?" I asked.

  "I was so upset I just drove and drove?I am not even sure for how long, but it was a long time, most of the day. I ended up booking a room in some dingy Motel and drinking myself to sleep? not sure how many of those little bottles I had before I passed out," she said, hesitating as if trying to recollect something that had happened a long, long time ago.

  "Can anyone support this? Do you have the name of anyone that you saw, that you met?maybe Mho?" I asked.

  "No, I was in too much of a state to see Mho? and my face with Ian's slap showing, I? I did not want Mho to see me like that. I suppose, the Motel would have my signature? if that helps?" She said.

  "Where was the Motel?" I asked? it couldn't be that easy.

  "Not very far from here, not sure of the suburb, but it took me about a half hour to get back here," she said. I had been right - it wasn't going to be that easy.

  "I thought you said you drove for a long time," I asked, confused.

  "I did but? I guess I just went around and around, I wasn't thinking about it," she explained, her voice becoming strained.

  "OK?well it doesn't help us. The police will say that you had plenty of time to come back here, shoot Ian and then return to the motel," I said, shaking my head in disappointment.

  "But I didn't, Louie?I really didn't, please believe me," she said, pleading, close to tears.

  "I know you didn't Lidia. I was just saying what the police would be able to say. I did not say that I believed it," I assured her.

  "I guess so," she said, "Sandra said the same thing to me," she added.

  "It is a tough deal on you Lidia, I am sorry. Unfortunately, the police will use some, if not all of it to build up a motive, a good one by the sounds of it. And now they will be able to show opportunity, as well. Still, it's not all bad news, Lidia. For starters, the lead detective is a very good friend of mine; in fact, we were partners for a long time. I know that he is straight, but best of all - he is frightened shitless of Sandra, so he is not going to rush into anything." I reassured her, "what did you think of her? ? err ? Sandra?" I asked.

  "Oh yes! She is great! Thank you so much for that. Between you and her, I know I will be all right now. If I was going to kill Ian at all, I would have killed him during our first year, that was the worst," she said, her eyes saddened by the memory.

  "You did not know he was gay, when you married him?" I asked, stupidly.

  "No idea, I thought he was a real gentleman, not asking for sex before marriage. I thought he respected my catholic upbringing? but, all the time he was having it off?with his mates, his lovers. Not long after we were married? he delighted in upsetting me with his doings. He would leave pictures, and worse of all, used condoms, un-cleaned toys for me to find. It was horrid. That first year I hated him, hated him so very much. I could have killed him then, I wanted to. But, slowly I got used to it and finally I started ignoring it all? for the last three years we have hardly talked?until the fight," she said, remembering it as if it had occurred to someone else, someone she had loved and lost.

  "Make sure you don't tell any of this to the police, OK?" I cautioned, alarmed at the motive she would be handing over to them on a platter? silver or not.

  "I will not be speaking to the poli
ce, unless Sandra is there, anyway," she reassured me

  "Good, good," I said, "was Henry the only member of your house staff here that morning of the fight?" I asked.

  "Yes, the rest go off on Saturday night and don't return until Monday night," she confirmed.

  "Would he be available? I would like to ask him a couple of questions," I asked.

  "I'll send him right in, would you like a drink now?" She asked, standing up.

  "A coffee black, no sugar, would be great. Thanks," I said, and as she turned to go, I added "Lidia, would you mind calling Dr Singh ? err ? Mho, and ask him if he can see me at his earliest convenience?"

  "Sure, any excuse ? is a good excuse to talk to Mho," she agreed, brightening up.

  "Right," I said. She was a little girl trapped in a woman's body, no doubt about it.

  A few minutes after she had left me alone in the huge room, Henry entered carrying a cup of coffee on a silver tray. He was a tall man with a crew cut and wide shoulders, about my age I would have guessed, in his late thirties. From his bearing, his body language, the stiffness in his backbone I suspected a former career in the armed forces. His walk, however, seemed to be strained, as if he was walking barefoot on rocks.

  "You wanted to see me, Sir?" He asked politely, placing the cup carefully in front of me, onto the small acreage that they conservatively thought to be a coffee table.

  "Sure, please sit down Henry, and please call me Louie," I said, pointing in the general direction of the lounge.

  "Ehm? I'd better remain standing, Sir. It wouldn't be right ?" he hesitated, glancing behind.

  "Two things Henry: First, sit down or else I'm going to have to shoot you in the knee, you see it's either your knee or my neck, the choice is simple. Second, call me sir once more, and I'll definitely shoot you in the knee." I said, smiling.

  "If you put that way ? er ? Louie, I guess I will have to sit down ? thanks, my feet are really killing me," he said, with obvious relief in his voice.

  "Been standing a lot?" I asked.

  "Nah, I was in the army once, a long time ago in another galaxy..."he smiled sadly at the recollection, "One day, like any other, I was unlucky to step on a mine. But, in a way, I guess, I was also lucky, that the mine was faulty and it just messed up my feet pretty badly, it didn't kill me. Many operations and many months after the event I could walk painfully. After a few years at a desk job, I got out of the army for keeps. Now the pain is less, or I'm getting used to it, but it's always there. All I can do; is drive a car," he said.

  "And fuck the boss?" I asked to test his reaction. It was a very foolish thing to do, considering his size. I thought he was going to jump up and hit me; his face went a bright red. I could see the veins pulse in his neck, then, suddenly, a smile broke the tension.

  "? And fuck the boss?" He asked, shaking his head. "No, I am not that way inclined, Louie."

  "So, you knew about his ? err ? inclinations?"I asked, relieved to be still among the living.

  "Of course," he said. "I knew of Mr. Harrison's many lovers. I was the designated driver for most of his many cruising forays. Often, he'd have sex right in the back of the limo or I would have to drive him to Motels, shit he even had lovers right here in the house." His expression was blank, but his eyes were slits.

  "Do you think she killed him for it?" I asked.

  "Louie, in her place I would have killed him, many times over. But no, I don't think she is capable of it. Early in my army career, I was a drill sergeant and I trained people to kill other people. That's, after all is what the army does." He looked up at me and continued. "I could always tell the ones that were never going to kill anyone, the ones that would purposely miss even on the battlefield. Not many people realize that a great many shots fired in battle are intentional misses. Some people just cannot kill, no matter the training or the danger to themselves. Mrs. Harrison is definitely one of those ? in my opinion."

  "I tend to agree with you," I said. "Please, tell me about the fight?"

  "What would you like to know?" he asked, and I could tell that he was uncomfortable even talking about it.

  "Start at the beginning ? I'll ask questions as we go along. Okay?" I said.

  "Err ? I was working downstairs in the garage, changing the oil on Mr. Harrison's Porsche, when I first became aware of the screaming and shouting that was going on ? It really startled me," he recollected.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "They hadn't even talked to each other with more than a few words all the time I have been employed here, let alone fight," he explained.

  "How long have you been here?" I asked.

  "A few months," he said.

  "Okay, go on, please," I said.

  "Well, I stopped what I was doing and quietly walked to the kitchen. I wanted to see what was going on? but I didn't want to intrude, if you know what I mean?" He said and I nodded.

  "I had been listening for a few minutes inching slowly toward the bottom of the stairs? it was mostly Mr. Harrison shouting. Then I heard a slap, very loud. I heard her hit the floor? I knew then it wasn't going to be just a quarrel," he continued with a sour expression on his face. I guessed that like me, he had no time for women hitters at all.

  "As I was hesitating on what to do I distinctly heard chocking sounds? once you have heard those in your life, you never forget them," he stated and paused to take a breath, the expression on his face told me that it wasn't a pleasant memory.

  "Where, in the house, were they?" I asked.

  "In the bedroom? I rushed up the stairs and when I got there, Mr. Harrison had Mrs. Harrison on the floor on her back, he was kneeling over her, his legs on either side of her, and he was strangling her, her feet were kicking?I did not hesitate, I got him in a head lock and I pulled him off her. I held him and he struggled, boy did he struggle to get at her, he was out of his mind. Louie, I am a strong man and I had trouble holding him. I shouted at her to run, to get out, and to get away from the house. Which she did, all the time rasping to get her breath back? soon after, I heard the tires of her Mercedes screech as she pulled out. It was then that I let him go," he finished, tired as if he had just relived through the whole thing.

  "What did Mr. Harrison do once she had left?" I asked.

  "Well funny thing, he calmed down almost right away. Shit, I was sure he was going to fire me, but instead he thanked me for stopping him from doing something really stupid," Henry said, looking surprised that he was still working here.

  "What happened then?" I asked.

  "Well, since it was a Sunday?and it is my usual day off, I left. I usually take Sunday morning to Tuesday morning off. I did ask Mr. Harrison if he wanted me to stay back on that particular Sunday, but he said no, to go as usual? he had company coming," Henry said.

  "Do you know who was coming over?" I asked.

  "Sorry, no idea ? probably a lover," he said with a blank expression on his face. "? I left right away, in case he changed his mind," he added smiling.

  "What time was that?" I asked.

  "I guess, about ten in the morning," he said.

  "So Lidia, would have left well before then?" I asked

  "Yes Mrs. Harrison left about nine thirty," he agreed.

  "Do you know where she may have gone?" I asked.

  "No, I have no idea," he said, but I could tell that he wasn't being straight with me.

  "Henry, I am here to help her, I need to know what you are keeping back, and I can't help her very well without information. Do you understand?" I said. "You are not helping her by holding stuff back, probably the opposite," I explained.

  "I guess so ?" he said uncertainly, then glancing behind once more he added, sotto voce. "I think she is quite fond of Dr Singh ?"

  "Don't worry you did not reveal a hidden secret, Lidia has already told me about her relationship to Dr Singh," I said and I could see that he was relieved to hear it. He was a good man, loyal.

  "When did you get back here?" I asked.

  "Monday morning
?when Mrs. Harrison called me? told me about Mr. Harrison being dead and that the police wanted to talk to me," he answered.

  "Did you tell all of this to the police?" I asked.

  "Well? most of it. I had to, the detective, a Detective Lucas I believe?he is pretty good at asking questions," he said, almost apologetically. I had been wondering how Steve had got into everyone's affairs so quickly, now I knew.

  "Okay thanks, Henry? would you mind telling Lidia that I am leaving?" I asked.

  "Sure thing Louie," he said and got up with some evident effort, taking the now empty cup with him on the silver platter. Not long after, Lidia returned into the room, with sparkling eyes, happy. That Dr Mho must be something else.

  "I talked to Mho. He will see you after two, today ? if that's okay. Till then he is doing his rounds at the Hospital," she explained.

  "Thanks, Lidia that's fine ? I'll be in touch," I said.

  "Louie ? err ? Thanks for being so patient with me," the little girl in her said to me. She escorted me to the door.

  "No worries, Lidia, you take care of yourself now ?" I said.

  I got into the Caddy, purred it awake and drove down to the gate. The guard opened the gate as he saw me approaching. But I did not drive through; instead, I parked the car, got out and walked toward him.

  "Hi, Louie Breccia," I said, extending my hand.

  "Joe Rossi pleased to meet ya. How can I help you?" he said, shaking my hand.

  "Ah ? a wog, like me, second generation?" I asked.

  "You bet," he said.

  "Do you speak it?" I asked.

  "A bit, to my mum mostly, she never bothered with English," he said.

  "Yeah mine either," I lied.

  "Nice car, that car of yours," he said, glancing back at Doris.

  "I saw you perving on her," I said shaking a finger at him. "She is a beauty isn't she? Listen, Joe ? Did you happen to see or hear anything interesting here the night Mr. Harrison died?" I asked.

  "Now, how did I know you were going to ask me that?" He smiled. "Nope, it was my day off."

  "Was it everyone's day off? Isn't that a bit unusual?" I asked, surprised.

  "Nope, it was the same every Sunday; Mrs. Harrison spends Sundays away from the house. All the help are off and Mr. Harrison, well ? I can't say, I wasn't here," he said, assuming the now familiar blank expression.

  "Did you see Mrs. Harrison leave?" I asked.

  "Oh yes, she stormed out of here about nine thirty in the am. She was barrelling down the driveway; I just about had no time to open the gate for her. She flashed through with millimetres to spare on either side," he said in excited recollection.

  "Did she look upset?" I asked.

  "Frankly I did not have enough time to even see her face. But she drove like she had the proper shits, if you ask me"

  "Did you see Henry leave?"

  "We sort of left together," he confirmed. "I let him out of the gate, and then followed him through. I did not close the gate behind me? we had orders from Mr. Harrison to leave the gate open on Sundays. Then I went home," he finished.

  "I see," I said. "Did you know what went on in here on Sundays?"

  "Una porcheria!" He exclaimed with a disgusted look on his face as if I had just farted.

  "A pig sty?" I translated loosely.

  "You said it," he confirmed.

  "OK, I think I get your meaning. Joe, thanks for your help, and be good to your mother," I advised while walking back to Doris.

  "Are you kidding? If I'm not good, she slaps me right across the face," he retorted, smiling.

  "Shit! Joe, we must be brothers," I said to him through the open window, as I passed through the open gates

  "Must be," he answered, nodding wisely.

  I eased Doris through the gate and headed back toward my office, but I wanted to stop about halfway there at a place known as The Cross. King's Cross-, is the part of Sydney that never sleeps, it is Sydney's red-light district. The area boomed during the Vietnam War, with hundreds of American servicemen on R & R leave being serviced by flocks of working girls that worked its streets. Organized crime and police corruption soon followed.Much of this activity was reputedly controlled by a well-known criminal with the not so-endearing name of 'Mr. Sin'. This rise in crime, vice, corruption and drugs was perhaps the tacit revenge by the spirits of the traditional owners of the land, the Eora people, who lived in the area for many thousands of years, and were decimated by smallpox and their wilful destruction by European settlers.

  There was a guy at the Cross that I wanted to see. His name was Neil Richardson, also known as Richo. True to form, Richo was a very shady character. Basically, he was a pimp.He owned and operated a string of 'escort' agencies and strip joints throughout Sydney.He was allowed, if not encouraged, to exist by the Vice Squad because he was valued as a good source of information, and he never used under-aged escorts, stayed away from drugs and allowed no violence on his premises. Richo may have been immoral but he wasn't stupid.

  As far as I knew, Richo never slept and was always in a little office above one of his many strip joints. This guy was loaded, and yet he did not own a house, an apartment, a room or even a car. He was happy as a pig in shit, just sitting in his smoky, air conditioned little hovel of a room right on top of a shady strip joint? go figure.

  Parking a car anywhere in the Cross is like trying to push a camel through the eye of a needle, and that is not easy, as the good Book teaches us. So I drove Doris well past the Cross and parked her in the Domain Parking station and caught a taxi back to the Cross.

  As I stepped onto the curb near Richo's lair, I noticed a working girl waiting for a pick up. She recognized me before I could put a name to the familiar face.

  "Not seen ya 'round her for a while, Louie. How you been?" she said as I remembered her name just in time. The last time I had seen her, she worked in one of Richo's escort establishments. She was a lot prettier then and she seemed to have aged, well beyond the time span that had passed.

  "Hi Margie, you're looking well," I lied.

  "Bull shit, Louie I look like crap. Where you been? Are you out of vice now?" she answered with a grimace.

  "I'm not even a cop anymore, Margie. Times change, shit happens," I answered.

  "You can say that again Louie," she agreed, taking a cigarette out of her small purse.

  "You're up and working pretty early, Margie," I commented while lighting her cigarette for her.

  "Thanks, Louie. Cop or no cop you were always a gentleman," she said with a smile on her now weather beaten face, "yeah, gotta start early these days ? inflation, you know?" she added. Or a costly drug problem, I thought but did not say.

  "You shouldn't knock inflation, Margie, after all your business depends on it," I said with a wink.

  "Always with the bad jokes, Louie? that hasn't changed at least" she said raising her eyes skyward.

  "Anyway, Margie, take care. Take my card let me know if I can be of any help,"

  "You are good people, Louie, cop or no cop," she smiled sadly while taking my card and stuffing it in her purse without reading. "You take care too, Louie." We gave each other a quick hug and I continued toward Richo's den.

  The huge bouncer guarding the front of Richo's strip joint knew me from my Vice days and waved me in.

  "Is he in?" I asked as a long-standing joke.

  "Is the Pope in Rome?" He answered on queue. I walked up the short corridor from the entrance as the smell of the joint hit me like a wall. I could hear the music coming up from the lower floor where the girls were entertaining lonely men by removing what little clothes they had been wearing in the first place. The corridor was like a landing with stairs going down to the floorshow and stairs going up to Richo's office. The stairway ended right at his door. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

  So I knocked politely to gain entrance into his office-come-habitat.

  "Louie, you ain't no cop no more. I don' hav' to see ya no more so ? Piss off!" he said, h
is squeaky high-pitched voice coming right through the door like if the door wasn't there.

  So, I kicked his door open.

  "Did ya hav' to do that? Now who's gonna pay for it? Uh?" He winged from behind his desk. Richo was a little rat of a man well over sixty and looked like Steptoe, from that great English comedy, including the tip-less woollen gloves. I think that he secretly modelled himself after that character.

  "Not me, Richo, right? It pays to be nice to old friends, or you're liable to piss them off, when you're pissing them off," I answered with a smile on my face, walking toward him.

  "Always the fucken' jokes. So, why have you decided to ruin my day today, Louie?" He asked looking up at me and pressing a button on his intercom. "Babe? Get Tom up here right quick, my door has had an accident."

  "Sure, Mr. Richo," a girls voice answered, and giggled.

  "Mr. Richo? Wow ? She is a keeper," I commented.

  "You wait till you see her, she'd be a keeper if she was fucken' mute," he agreed. "So, Louie what-a-u-want-a?" He said waving his hands as if he was of Italian decent and in an almost friendly tone.

  "Ian Harrison," I said.

  "The rich guy who got shot? Yeah, I knew him," he answered.

  "You know about his death, all ready? I am impressed," I said, but I really wasn't. I knew that Richo got the news almost before it happened. He had more spies and informants than the KGB.

  "Yeah, I got lucky," he said.

  "Yeah right. So, he was one of your customers?" I confirmed.

  "Yeah, but he was only interested in men?the younger the better," he said with a wink.

  "How often?" I asked.

  "Couple of times a week?sometimes three or four," he stated, with matter of fact tone, as if we were discussing how often Harrison ate.

  "What about Sunday nights?" I asked.

  "Nope ? never on Sunday, as the song goes," he said with a smirk, no doubt pleased with his little joke.

  "You sure?" I said.

  "Very sure ? I thought it might hav' been some sort of religious thing, you know? Who can tell how their minds work? And who the fuck cares, so long as they pay?" He said.

  "Richo, you are turning into a philosopher, in your ancient age," I remarked.

  "Bite my arse," he answered.

  "Did he have a favourite boy?" I asked.

  "Nope ? variety was his game, always complaining because I didn't hav' enough different ones. So I just rotated 'em, got 'em to change their appearance and use different names, he was happy with that ? maybe he never even knew," he pondered.

  "Did he ever see more than one at one time?" I asked.

  "Oh for sure, he liked two and maybe three sometimes? he was a good customer, a very good customer?I will miss him," he said and assumed a proper sorrowful look, shaking his head from side to side.

  "You'll miss his money, you mean," I said and he changed from shaking his head to nodding.

  "Especially," he agreed, grimacing.

  "Any of your boys like the rough stuff? Tend to be violent?" I asked.

  "Not if they want to remain with me, they don't? you know that," he answered.

  "Yeah I know that. Any of them take a recent trip, or have gone walk-about?" I asked.

  "Nope. All here and accounted for, Sir," he made a mock salute.

  "You are not much fucking help, are you?" I exclaimed.

  "A negative result is a result none-the-less," he preached at me.

  "Thanks for nothing then," I said and walked out.

  "Fuck you too," he shouted behind me.

  The bouncer looked at me as I walked out and said, "I see you two are still getting along."

  "Like brothers, mate, like brothers," I said rubbing my forefingers together.

  I retrieved Doris from the parking station, after waiting about ten minutes before I could get a taxi back to it. She was cool and comfortable and I was glad I had not parked her in the sun. I pointed her toward the office and looked forward to talking the case over with my splendid Maria.

  But, alas, Maria was not there when I arrived. My gut told me this was not good. I really wished she had let me help her. But, as well as being brilliant, she is also stubborn and fiercely independent.

  I really didn't know much about Maria, she did not confide easily. Easily? What am I saying? She did not confide at all!Her interview for the job had been very short. I must admit, I had been frozen in a state of suspended animation as soon as she had entered my office.This sort mental paralysis does not happen to me very often, but Maria had reminded me of Sonia.

  Robyn, a 'lady' that had suckered me into a previous but unfortunate case, had asked me to take Maria on as my assistant. Robyn worked for the Australian Intelligence Agency, Australia's spook central. With a sour taste still in my mouth from our previous association, I had been prepared to tell Robyn to go fuck herself. But, she had outsmarted me. She walked in towing Maria behind her. One look and the rest was history.

  I stood there at the entrance to my office, disappointed and worried by Maria's absence. I looked around, becoming depressed. It was then that I noticed a note from Maria, in her tidy and miniscule handwriting. It was pasted to the door of the small grog-holding fridge, where she would have been sure I would find it. The note was brief and, at first reading, unremarkable:

  Steve would like you to call him ASAP.

  Love you? M.

  xxxxxx

  Then it hit me: Love? Crosses? Are those kisses? Kisses? From Maria?No way in hell!She would never put kisses on an office message or any message. We certainly did not have that sort of relationship (not from lack of trying, on my part). Anyway, it just was not her style. That funny feeling in the pit of my stomach developed into something a lot more solid, more insistent, as the adrenalin started doing its work.

  I called her mobile - switched off.

  I called her flat - rang out.

  I called Steve.

  "Hoi!" He said

  "Hi, it's me. Maria is not here, not at home and does not answer her mobile and left me a note in the office with fucking kisses on it" I said, hoping that their presence would mean as much to him as they had meant to me. They did.

  "What? Are you sure? That does not sound like Maria. Are you sure?" He said, confused.

  "Shit Steve, I know a fucking cross when I see one!" I shouted.

  "Okay, okay take it easy. She's never done that before, uh?" He confirmed.

  "What? Are you crazy? Never. You know her, she wouldn't. Will you stop asking stupid questions and get your arse down here?" I said

  "On my way, any idea where she might be?" He asked, forever the cop.

  "Oh?fuck it with the questions!" I said and hung up.

  I then tried her mobile and her home numbers, again. No answer, again.

  Maybe I was over-reacting. I hoped so. But that funny feeling told me that I was not. I started going through every inch of her drawers, examining every bit of scrap paper, paperclips? anything. The place had been cleaned out! There was nothing of a personal nature left anywhere, nothing at all. It was as if she had never existed, never worked here at all. What the fuck was going on?

  "What the fuck is going on?" Steve asked as he walked in.

  "No idea. There is not a trace that she ever worked here, except for the note," I said

  "I tried her mobile and home phone. No answer," he said.

  "Me too," I paused, "we should go take look at her place," I suggested, fearing the worst.

  "Let's go and take a look at her place," he repeated, absentmindedly. He was probably entertaining similar fears.

  "Right," I said, getting my gun from the bottom drawer of my desk, and putting it in the waistband of my jeans.

  Steve used the siren, because the drive from the office to her place cuts right through some of the busiest parts of the City.Maria lived in a quaint area of Sydney called The Rocks.The Rocks is a 19th century village trapped in the middle of a 21st century city.The Rocks is where Captain Arthur Phillip starte
d the small settlement that grew into Sydney, it is regarded as the birthplace of modern Australia. I just hoped it would not prove to be the opposite kind of place for Maria.

  We parked illegally right in front of her block of flats and rushed inside, although her apartment was on the third floor, we did not wait for the lift - there wasn't one. This was The Rocks, you were lucky to get electricity. We ran up the stairs two at a time and found that the door to her flat was shut? but not locked.

  We looked at each other; this was not a good sign. My heart jumped in my mouth. I was having trouble breathing; the adrenalin rush was in full swing now. We both took our guns out. As we had done many times before, we went in together and rolled Steve to the right and me to the left. I guess it might have looked comical, as the flat was completely deserted.

  Deserted, but not untouched. Someone had sure been here; the place had been tossed, and tossed thoroughly. It was a real mess. Every book, DVD and CD was out on the floor either torn apart or ripped open. Every chair had been cut and its guts pulled out. Even Pot plants were torn out and all the dirt shaken out of them. Pictures and frames torn apart. In the kitchen, every food container had been emptied on the floor or in the sink: cartons, boxes, cans, packets, bottles, frozen or unfrozen. All the drawers had been emptied and the linoleum flooring cut and lifted. The same thoroughness was used on the bedroom and the bathroom. Since the work had not stopped half way, I concluded that, unless they had found what they had been looking at the very end of their search, they had not found what they were looking for.

  "I don't think they found what they were looking for," I said.

  "Me neither ? whatever it was. Shit I was half expecting to find her in here, dead," Steve said with some relief in his voice

  "Me too ? what the fuck do we do now?" I said, my mind frozen.

  "We need to think for a bit," he said.

  "Right," I said. "But not here. This place is getting to me ? err ? Why don't you call the forensic boys over and see if they can come up with any clues for us?" I suggested. 'When in doubt - get forensics' was my motto.

  "Good idea. They are not going to love me when they see this fucking mess," he grimaced, bitterly.

  "They hate you anyway," I pointed out, helpfully.

  "True," he admitted, and as we left, he placed a call to Central on his mobile. Not far from Maria's, flat there was one of the hundred thousand espresso cafes that have sprung all around and in the City. We walked over and sat down at one of their outside tables so that we would be allowed to smoke. We ordered two short blacks, and lit up in unison like a move in a strange ballet.

  "Anything strange, out of the ordinary, happened in the last few days?" Steve, the cop, asked.

  "You mean apart from yesterday and today?" I asked.

  "Yeah," he said.

  "No. Nothing I can think of?" but I had answered a bit too quickly, without giving it enough thought. So I made myself go through the days over the past week in my mind, "wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute? there was something on? last Friday, I think?yes definitely on Friday," I said, trying to picture it in my mind in as much detail as possible.

  "Yeah? What was it?" he asked, his interest mounting. Steve is perhaps four years younger than me; he is a little taller and a little less muscular. He has two main things that work in his favour as a cop, one is his tenacity and the other is his eyes. They are like twin laser beams and, on many occasions, they have proven to be too much for a lot of recalcitrant perps. He now focused them on me. Normally, when he did that, I would tell him to quit it - it gave me the creeps. But this time I ignored them. My mind was working on re-living the whole scene in my mind.

  "Yes, we were just discussing the week, having a relaxing drink and a smoke. You know, you have been there many times yourself. At one point, she got a phone call on her mobile. This was unusual in itself. I don't remember her getting a call at the office on her mobile, ever. Anyway, I remember her saying hello, and then she seemed to physically stiffen and go very pale. She hung up right away, did not say a word. I asked her what it was all about. She seemed to think about it for a minute and then she said it had been a dirty phone call. But, I knew, I knew right then that she was lying. But Steve, you know what she is like ? asking her more would have been fruitless. If she did not want to talk, she didn't. Insisting would have just pissed her off. So, I just let it drop" I said, "fuck!I should have insisted ? I should have ?" I added, feeling I had let her down.

  "No point mate, as you said, it would have just pissed her off ? A phone call on her mobile, you said ? on Friday?" He asked extracting his mobile.

  "Yeah," I said. He speed dialled a number and without saying hello, he spoke into it, "Richie get me the phone records for last seven days for this number," he rattled off Maria's mobile number, "and I need them an hour ago, Ritchie! I'll give you ten minutes, and then I'm coming down there and cutting your balls off personally!" He hung up. We both sat up a little straighter, it felt like we were actually doing something.

  But, we did not need to wait the full ten minutes.

  His mobile rang back in less than five. He picked up and listened.

  "What? Are you sure? Okay, okay, well thanks? yeah, yeah I'll let you know, bye," he hung up and looked at me. I did not like his expression.

  "What?" I said.

  "It's the fucking Feds!" He exclaimed.

  "The Feds?" I asked dumbly, not understanding.

  "Yes? Federal Police, AIA?CIA who the fuck knows. Her phone records have been sealed, sealed from Canberra" He said.

  "What the fuck?" I said.

  "Exactly," he said. "Your spook friend in the AIA wouldn't have something to do with this, would she?" he asked. Steve did not like spies, of any kind.

  "AIA? Yeah, you may be right ? in fact ? it was her, that asked me to employ Maria, in the first place," I said, and it was my turn to go on the mobile.

  "What? You did not tell me that! I have warned you before about getting yourself involved with those spooks!" Steve said, beginning to get angry. I waved at him to shut up as the phone was ringing. It rang twice, as always, and then a sexy female voice said:

  "Yes?"

  "It's Louie." I said

  "I know who it is," she said.

  "Do you know why I am ringing?" I asked

  "Yes I do," she said, no hesitation, she had been expecting me to call.

  "Care to tell me?" I asked

  "No," she said. She paused and then she added. "But I hope you are still coming to my dinner party tonight, since you're in town"

  "Of course, I would not miss it, seven thirty wasn't it?" I said.

  "That's right, see you then, and take care, you," she said.

  "You too, bye," I said. She hung up without responding.

  "What the fuck was that about?" Steve asked impatiently.

  "She knows, but won't talk about it on the phone. She said I should meet her at about eleven o'clock tonight, and make sure I'm not followed," I explained.

  "Eleven? I thought you said seven thirty," he said, puzzled.

  "I did, the 'seven-thirty' was spook doubletalk. It means eleven pm tonight," I explained.

  "What a lot of bull shit!" he commented. "What now?"

  "I guess we wait till tonight, want to come along?" I asked.

  "You bet, I'm coming along," he said.

  "You'll get to meet the spook lady," I said.

  "Is she good looking?" he asked, brightening up a fraction.

  "You wouldn't believe me" I said.

  "You are right there," he said.

  "In her note, Maria wrote that you wanted me to ring you urgently, so what's up?" I asked, changing the subject.

  "Oh right. Well, I think your client is probably off the hook," he said.

  "So soon? How am I going to make a living with you around?" I complained.

  "Not my fault, there was another one last night," he said.

  "Another one? Another what?" I asked.

  "Shooting, same M.O
., and same weapon," he explained.

  "Any connection? Apart from the killer, that is," I asked.

  "Too early to tell, but does not look like it for now," he said.

  "Who got killed?" I asked.

  "Another rich guy, a certain Tom Stevens ? heard of him?" he asked.

  "Nope, what did he do?" I asked.

  "Big in computer software of some sort or other," he said.

  "Was he gay too?" I asked.

  "Does not look like it," he said.

  "Great! A serial?" I asked.

  "Maybe, I guess time will tell," he said.

  "Isn't life great?" I said.

  "Yeah, except when it isn't," he agreed.

  "I'm glad Lidia is off the hook, she is a nice lady, who landed in a shitty situation through no fault of her own. This news lets me concentrate on Maria, which is fine by me." I said, trying to rationalize the loss of badly needed income.

  "Me too, but I guess I'll have to work on this second murder as well. Which sucks," he said then, brightening up, he added. "But, this gets Sandra off my back, which is a definite plus!"

  "Lucky bugger. I am glad you are driving up with me tonight, it's good working together again," I said.

  "One thing, Louie, if we find that someone has hurt Maria. I don't want you going off, half-cocked, okay? I am still a cop and I would hate to have to arrest my best friend," he warned and I knew exactly to what he was referring to.

  It was the reason I was no longer a cop and no longer his partner.

 

  Chapter 4