Sharp Shooter (26 page)

Cass stared at it, frowning in concentration. Her aura flattened and I realised she couldn’t read.

‘It’s got my phone number on it. You can call me.’

Her face relaxed a little. ‘Wot’s yer job?’

I ran through a few definitions in my mind. ‘Sort of like a private investigator.’

Her face tensed. ‘You work for the cops?’

‘No. Definitely not,’ I said.

She relaxed again. ‘I don’t do cops, Tara. Get it?’

I nodded. ‘Completely.’

Danny called out something I couldn’t hear. She sent him a scowl. No prizes for guessing who wore the pants.

‘Later,’ she said to me and walked off.

Shortly afterwards, the SUV pulled away from the curb minus Karnie Foster. As she wobbled up the platform steps in her high heels, I eased Mona out of the parking lot and followed Zach Lupi.

Most of the Friday traffic was heading towards the highway, so it was easy enough keeping him in sight as he doubled back through Burnside. Just on dark, he pulled into a shabby duplex in the next suburb over; one tree in the yard, no lawn, no fence and a gravel driveway.

I drove past without being noticed.
I think.

Wal continued to sleep: three heavy breaths, nothing, and then a deep snore. With that symphony as my companion, I parked around the corner from Lupi’s house and settled in to wait.

By about eleven, I was starving and desperate for a toilet. Wal had stirred once or twice to change positions. I considered waking him up for conversation’s sake then thought better of it.

Instead, I pondered – again – on the identity of the suited man with Johnny Vogue at the warehouse. It was really bugging me that I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him.

When I got tired of coming up with nothing, I moved on to an entertaining fantasy about who I’d choose between Edouardo and Tozzi if they both fell at my feet and begged me to have them. Edouardo was so sweet and so gorgeous but a little too eager, even when he was trying not to be. Tozzi had everything, including the attitude that goes with it. He was also married to a goddess.

I glanced at my watch: 11.15. Wal had to be back at the Subi by midnight. I reluctantly admitted to myself that I’d just wasted four hours of my life. Then Zach Lupi emerged from the duplex and drove off.

I followed at what I hoped was a fair distance, and in five minutes we were back in Burnside and Zach was turning into the street that harboured Johnny Vogue’s warehouse.

Lupi stopped at the gate and got out to grapple with the padlock.

I drove past, heart thumping, around the block, and cut into the laneway with my headlights off. But by the time I reached the spear grass I’d previously fallen into, Lupi’s car had gone.

Damn.
Was he inside? Or had he driven off? I wound down my window and peered out into the dark.

I couldn’t see much but the alley smelled of Davidoff aftershave. I recognised it because it was one of Garth’s favourites.

‘Hey Wal,’ I whispered. ‘Do you smell something?’

Wal didn’t answer.

But someone else did.

‘You know what I do to nosy bitches?’ said Lupi, dressed in black and hugging a baseball bat.

I reached for the ignition, but an arm pinned me back against the seat. The hand that belonged to the arm held a pistol.

‘You know what I do with fancy smellin’ wog boys who like to bully wimmin?’ said Wal in an expressionless voice. ‘I like to blow their fuckin’ heads off, and watch their body flop around like a chook.’

Lupi dropped the baseball bat and held his hands up. He knew crazy and dangerous when he heard it. ‘Steady Eddie, mate. Mistaken identity. S’all. Chill. Chill.’

‘Yeah,’ said Wal pointing the fingers of his free hand to his face. ‘Well look close, mate. Don’t mistake this identity again. It’ll come after ya. Now piss orf.’

Lupi went back down the alley in a flash.

Nearly as quickly, I started Mona and drove out of Burnside, not sure whether to cry from relief or horror.

We were speeding down the Eastern Highway into the city by the time my terror had settled enough to let me speak.

‘Thanks Wal,’ I said, thickly.

All I got was silence and a lolling head in return.

I woke him up when we got to the Subi car park.

‘You been doing this long?’ I asked.

Wal stretched and burped out something that smelled like eggy fish cakes. ‘Doin’ what?’

I leaned as far away from him as I could, and cracked the window to let in some air. ‘Sleeping all the time.’

He scratched his head and looked around. ‘What’s the time?’

‘Near midnight.’

He blinked at me. ‘Yeah? True? Well, usually I sleep days.

Lately though . . .’ He shrugged and bent down to zip up his bag of goodies, dismissing the conversation.

Wal was a roadie who worked nights, so I guess that made sense. But there was something about it, the suddenness, and how deeply he fell, that didn’t seem right. I wasn’t going to let it go at that. ‘I think you need to see a doctor.’

‘Say wha-at?’

‘I’m serious, Wal. No one sleeps like that; sudden and deep with stuff happening around them.’

He nodded, taking in what I’d said. I think.

‘And thanks again for tonight. That guy . . . well . . . I owe you a bunch of free classes,’ I finished.

‘See you Saturday morning, Teach.’

He got out of the car and ambled towards the back entrance; a short, brawny, crazy, black-jeaned roadie who was scarier than any tall, brawny, crazy guy I’d ever met.

Chapter 40

I
TOSSED ALL NIGHT
, fretting about a bunch of things. Should I ring Nick and tell him what I’d learned? What
had
I learned? A guy at the assay lab was connected to Johnny Vogue and Sam Barbaro. How did I know that? I’d seen his aura flicker, and a young scrubber from Bunka had confirmed my suspicions. Yeah, right!

Then I moved on to my next set of worries. Had I trained enough to not embarrass myself in the triathlon? What was I going to say to Peter Delgado? Who’d threatened the birds? Was the suited guy important?

Somewhere around 4 am I drifted off, only to be woken by Hoo and Brains screeching for proper daylight and attention. My phone told me it was only 7 am. Why were the damn birds always up with . . . well, the damn birds. I stumbled outside and uncovered them, topping up their food and water.

They both scowled at me and got busy with their morning antics. Mating season was supposed to taper off in about March – which was now – but I couldn’t see any signs of it. That reminded me, I’d been back living at JoBob’s for almost three months and I still only had a little under two hundred dollars to my name, plus considerably more aggravation than I’d had when I arrived. I hadn’t touched Delgado’s retainer and I wouldn’t. Not in a million.

I decided to go for a run to fend off a glum attack and pulled on my shoes, shorts and a top. Heading towards the river, I was determined to make a better job of the hill climb. After all, I hadn’t eaten a tin of baked beans.

Encouragingly, I got halfway up the climb towards Nick Tozzi’s new house before I was forced to walk. I toyed with the idea of knocking on his front door to discuss the Barbaro–Lupi connection, but images of Toni in a mushroom silk negligee melted the whole idea away.

Instead I trudged to the top of Devil’s Elbow and looped back towards Lilac Street. The return leg was mostly downhill, and I recovered enough to jog the last few streets to home.

My phone rang as I limped down the driveway, and I pulled it out of my sweaty crop strap. I used to wear a bumbag until Bok pointed out how tragically eighties I looked. It’s alright for him – he never jogs!

‘Tara Sharp,’ I said.

‘Bligh here, Sharp.’

‘How did you get my number?’ I asked.

She made an exasperated noise. ‘You filled in the form, remember? Name, address, contact numbers? You also left it on your note.’

Doh!

‘Look, this is a heads-up. We’ve got an ID on the blue BMW but . . .’

‘But?’ I said, listening closer.

‘It’s a bit delicate and we don’t have anything to charge the driver with yet. I just wanted to say, DO NOT APPROACH the car if you see it, and call me right away. You’ve got my cell number now, so put it into your directory.’

‘Bligh, you’re giving me your phone number,’ I said after a moment. ‘Are they trying to kill me?’

She was silent and I pictured her hair tucked up tight behind her ears, her eyebrows drawn together in their semi-permanent frown.

‘Possibly,’ she said, at last.

‘Shouldn’t I be under police protection then?’ I squeaked.

‘Don’t be a wus, Sharp. And call me if you see the car.’

‘
Don’t be a wus!
Is that how the law protects innocent citizens?’

‘Bye.’ She was gone.

I got into the shower feeling more angry than scared. Obviously I was going to have to take care of myself.

Which led me to make a couple of decisions: I
would
talk to Tozzi, and I needed to cancel tomorrow’s Social Skills class. I also had to find out more about Johnny Vogue and Nick Tozzi’s backgrounds.

I towelled off, threw on a tracksuit and t-shirt, and emptied my fridge of JoBob booty; Nutri-grain, milk, toast and Swiss cheese, and a packet of figs.
Yum.

Then I settled on my couch with my LT and phone.

First I rang Tozzi’s number.

‘It’s Tara,’ I said, when he answered. ‘Did you get your assay done at the SUP labs?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Just answer, please.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you should know that one of the guys working in the lab is in tight with Barbaro and Johnny Vogue.’

Silence.

‘Nick?’

‘I appreciate your interest. But, please, Tara. Stay out of this.’

‘Bit late for that,’ I said and hung up.

Next I rang Lloyd Honey.

‘Mr Honey, it’s Tara Sharp.’

‘Ms Sharp,’ he said, then hesitated. ‘Is there something you forgot to tell me?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ I said, reassuringly.

‘That’s a relief. Please call me Lloyd.’

‘Lloyd, I’m sorry to call in a favour so soon, but you said you might be able to help me on a background check.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m looking for information on some people. The sort of thing you couldn’t find from just asking around.’

‘Certainly. Who is it you want to know about?’

I gave him the names. To his credit he didn’t react. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you with my findings. Is there anything you’re looking for particularly?’

‘A connection between them.’

‘Fine.’

‘Lloyd, this is . . . sensitive,’ I said in my best PI voice.

‘Of course, Ms Sharp.’

‘Tara, please.’

‘Yes.’

‘Bye.’

I sat for a moment, thinking, before I sent off texts to Harvey and Enid cancelling the next class.

Then I rang Wal. I had to raise my voice so he could hear me over the birds’ screeching; maybe moving them so close to my door hadn’t been such a clever idea.

‘I’m running a triathlon tomorrow. Have to cancel class until next week. Now tell me, what’s the best way to lose someone who’s following your car?’

He answered as if it was the most normal question in the world. ‘Simple,’ said Wal. ‘Traffic lights. Slow down towards them. Pass through late on the orange and they’ll get stuck. And don’t go places you don’t know.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘If you get caught in a dead end or something, gives ’em time to catch up. You still got problems, Teach?’

‘Yeah. A little.’ Cough.

‘Need me?’

‘Got nothing to pay you with, Wal,’ I confessed.

‘’Bout that,’ he said slowly. ‘Went to the doctor this morning like you said to.’

‘Oh,’ I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. ‘And?’

‘Gotta have some tests, but he thinks mebbe I got narcolepsy.’

‘Narcolepsy?’ Well that made sense.

‘Doc says it’s lucky I came to him before I had an accident. Told me not to drive until it’s sorted.’

‘Oh,’ again.

‘Shit happens,’ he said eloquently. ‘Means I can’t drive the truck anymore for the band. So I’m thinking mebbe I’ll come work for you full time.’

‘But I can’t pay you, Wal,’ I gasped.
Nor do I want a psycho,
narcoleptic ex-roadie as my employee.

‘Got that all figured out. I’ll get the disability pension now. And you can cash me up on the side when your business builds up. Man’s gotta have something to do, Teach.’

‘I – I . . . Look, I’ve gotta go, Wal. But let’s talk about it later on.’
Coward.

I dropped my phone on the couch and writhed around in horror
. OMG. OMG. OMG.