Sharp Turn (20 page)

‘Sure.’

She was already engrossed in chopping salad and prepping the deep fryer, so I left her to it and hurried straight to the Chesley bay.

The roller door was up, and a Kawasaki was out the front, being washed down by a skinny young guy who could have been T-Dog’s brother. George Shakes – jeweller and international gourmand – looked on. His partner, Frosty Hardwick, was nowhere to be seen.

At the back of the garage, a table was laid out with containers of food. Sharee had been right about Chesley having caterers. (In fact, George Shakes looked like he’d had one for a fair while.) I pretended I hadn’t noticed the food and approached Shakes.

‘Hi. I’m Tara from the food van. Would either of you like to pre-order lunch?’

Shakes scowled at me. ‘We do our own.’ His red aura was thick like arterial blood but marred by white splotches – I wasn’t sure what that meant.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Fair enough.’

He scowled a bit harder. ‘Who are you? You look familiar. Have we met?’

Actually, we had. Smits had forced me along to one of Shakes’ jewellery soirées one evening when Henry couldn’t make it. The food had been fabulous but the company not so. I’d spent an hour dodging the sticky hands and whiny voice of Phillip Dewar, the drunken idiot my mother had been trying to hook me up with for years. It was all I could do to corral my desire to punch him through one of George Shakes’ expensive glass cabinets. Fortunately, Smitty caught my mood and had steered me out of there before mayhem ensued.

‘Maybe,’ I said in answer to Shakes’ question.

He nodded as if to dismiss me, but I wasn’t leaving yet.

‘Great-looking bike you’ve got there. Maybe I should put my money on you on Sunday?’ I said in the dumbest manner I could manage.

Shakes’ aura flared with emotion though his face gave little away.

I continued to prod. ‘But I like the black bike too. I can’t decide. That Lu Red’s such a cute guy. Hey, that’s funny, isn’t it? Lu Red rides a black bike!’

I got no visible reaction to that so I tried something else.

‘Hey, I do know you – I remember now. Mr Hardwick, isn’t it?’

Shakes’ red aura turned scarlet and I smelled sulphur rolling off him in waves. Now
there
was something.

‘No, it isn’t. Now I’m rather busy. Run along.’ Outwardly he still seemed calm, but his body energy was giving off lightning flashes. I made a mental note of it and left.

Things seemed to be going smoothly in Team Bennett’s garage. Frank Farina gave me a cheerful wave and called out that he’d have the usual and be by to pick it up at about twelve. The general energy inside was all good so I moved on.

The energy in the Riley garage was a stark contrast. Dave, the mechanic, and Old Man Riley were getting into it and didn’t even pause when I showed up.

‘Who the fuck said you could order these chains from Tex-E?’

‘They’re better than the crap ones we’ve been using,’ said Dave.

‘I don’t fucking care what you fucking think. I pay the fucking bills and your fucking wages. I make the fucking decisions about suppliers!’

I cleared my throat and they both turned.

‘What are you fucking staring at?’ Riley barked at me.

A guy who looked identical to Riley Senior, only fifteen kilos lighter, emerged from behind several huge cardboard boxes and put a calming hand on the older man’s shoulder. ‘Dad, get a grip.’

Riley looked like he might turn on his son but he roped in his rage and stalked off in the direction of the track.

‘Hey, sorry about that,’ said Gig Riley, watching his father depart.

‘People seem to do a lot of apologising for your dad,’ I said tartly.

‘He’s a passionate man. Afraid it comes with the territory.’

‘That’s no excuse for being rude.’

Riley Junior laughed and his aura stayed mellow. He held out his hand. ‘I’m Gig.’

Like Lu Red and Frank Farina, he was a foot shorter than me and a light wiry build.

I shook his hand. ‘Hear that you’re pretty quick on the tar.’

‘Yeah, well, I love what I do so I try to do it well,’ he said with a smile.

His aura had hardly changed in response to my compliment. Even if he couldn’t care less what I thought, his ego was well and truly in check. Whoever was threatening Bolo, I doubted it was Gig Riley.

‘Good luck on Sunday then,’ I said, turning to go.

He nodded. ‘Thanks.’

At the Moto-Sane garage, Bolo was deep in conversation with Clem at the back of the bay. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but something told me it wasn’t about motorbikes. Lu Red was nowhere to be seen. The only other person around was Wal, who was sitting on a drum and leaning against the corner of the roller door, fast asleep. I glanced about. No one seemed to be watching so I gave his leg a swift kick.

He woke with a start and blinked a couple of times. ‘Boss?’

‘Wal! You’re supposed to be watching him!’

‘Sorry, boss, damn meds have worn off.’

‘Then take some more. He’s paying you for this.’

He rubbed his eyes, yawned and began digging around in his pockets for his pills.

‘What’s going on in there?’ I asked, peering in.

‘Bin arguin’ for a while. Dunno what about, but neither of them’s too happy.’

I got out my phone and pretended to be taking Wal’s order while I watched them. Their auras were blurry and agitated.

‘You have any trouble last night after I left?’ I asked.

‘Nah. Checked all the windows and doors. Did a few loops of the house, couldn’t see nothin’.’ His face brightened. ‘He’s got a cook. Best bacon and hash browns I ever ate this morning.’

I thought of Cass. I’d miss her cooking when she left.

‘Also, boss, I called a local promoter I know from band days. He reckons Instant Security is full of ex-crims and gym junkies.’

‘That’s not so surprising, I s’pose.’

‘You’re gonna love who the silent partner in the business is though.’

‘Who?’

‘Viaspa.’

I felt sick.

Chapter 19

I
WALKED THE LENGTH
of home straight trying to calm down. Wal’s information put a strong probability of a connection between Leonard Roc and Viaspa but not proof. I needed more.

The marshal was out on his safety loop, making sure there was no carrion on the track. On a raceway set in bushland, you never knew what might decide to take its last breath on a hairpin bend. Other than the marshal, there were the usual track officials over near the finish line and a handful of randoms settling in to wait for practice.

As I walked back towards the information booth, I spied Lu Red and his girlfriend, Sally, huddled together by the loudspeaker stand. I got as close as I could without them noticing. They weren’t arguing but their body language was charged; a deep and meaningful going on there for sure. Red’s hands were outstretched in a pleading gesture but Sally kept shaking her head. Their auras seemed to be keeping their integrity, not merging as they often did with couples. After a while Sally pulled away from their tête-à-tête and walked back towards the pits. Red watched her for a moment or two then slowly followed.

When he’d gone, I veered down to Sharee’s booth.

‘Morning,’ I said brightly.

‘Hi, Tara. Gee, you’re out early.’

‘Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, thought it best to keep going.’

She nodded in sympathy. ‘Rough one, eh?’

‘Yeah. And I just got a mouthful from Riley Senior. The man needs to be locked up.’

Another sympathetic nod. ‘Gig is so sweet. Go figure.’

‘Met the boss of Chesley too this morning. He was pretty antsy as well. These guys are so uptight.’

‘Which one? George? The big guy?’ she said, making a pregnant gesture. ‘If you think it’s bad now, wait ’til Sunday. These guys leave rock stars for dead when it comes to acting out. The owners are worse than the riders. The riders
have
to keep it cool.’

‘I guess it’s not much fun for Chesley coming second,’ I said.

‘You mean fourth, really. The other three are on equal points.’

‘Hardly worth going in the last race then.’

She shook her head emphatically. ‘Always worth it.

Someone could drop out badly on race day or, worse, get a DNR.’

‘That sounds bad,’ I said. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Did Not Race,’ she explained. ‘It happens sometimes. Lu missed round three. Something to do with tyres.’

‘But he’s still equal first even though he missed a race?’

‘Yeah. On points. He blitzed the first two rounds then missed the third. Since then his times have come down towards those of normal human beings.’

I made a mental note to check back over the dates to see if they coincided with something significant.

‘You want to put in an order today?’ I asked.

She gave me her usual list. ‘This your last day?’ she asked as I began to move off.

‘Yeah. Jim’ll be back on Monday.’

‘Shame,’ she said. ‘I’ll miss our chats. And your chicken rolls rock!’

I grinned. ‘Thanks. I’ll tell Cass. Keep fighting the good fight.’

She reached over the counter and hit me with a high five.

Maybe it was lack of sleep but my skin prickled all day. Too many things to worry about. Somehow Viaspa, Lena Vine’s security guard and my stalker were all connected but I couldn’t work out why. I also felt edgy about Wal, wondering if he was awake and doing his job. And if he did have to defend Bolo, what might it lead to? I didn’t have insurance of any kind. Was I likely to be thrown in gaol if Wal pulled a gun on someone? Maybe it was time I spoke to Garth, my ex-boyfriend accountant. He was only too happy to tell me when I was out-of-line crazy about stuff. He’d also know about insurance.

‘Tara?’

I looked at Cass and then down at where she was staring. I was holding the plastic spatula in the boiling oil.

‘Aaagh!’ I pulled it out and threw it down on some absorbent paper. It looked like a Dali clock.

‘And you put the tray of hot chips into the fridge a few minutes ago.’ She pointed to the soggy result.

‘Sorry, Cass. Things on my mind,’ I mumbled.

‘Something to do with you going out in the middle of the night?’

We hadn’t spoken much on the way in this morning. I didn’t want her involved in my possible Viaspa problem.

‘Yeah. I had to drop Wal over to Bolo’s. Someone tried to break into his house. He’s a bit freaked so Wal’s staying with him.’

‘Bolo still doesn’t want to tell the cops?’

‘No.’

‘Seems weird.’

‘You said that before.’

She shrugged. ‘So Wal’s your security guy, right?’

‘Aaah . . . yeah.’

‘Then I’ll be your assistant.’

‘Cass –’

‘After I’ve learnt how to read better.’

I ignored her and began to pack up.

At the gate, I slowed the van to say goodbye to Jase, but there was another security guy there. He said Jase had been called in to work on the weekend so he’d gone home early.

After saying our farewells at Jim’s, I drove straight home. I wasn’t sad to see the back of the van. A week of serving lunches had confirmed my opinion that I only liked to eat food, not prepare it. Cass, on the other hand, looked a little sad.

‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ I said as we pulled into Lilac Street.

‘Yeah. Beats hanging out at Burnside Station. And I got paid.’

‘Speaking of which . . .’ I parked near the kerb and handed Cass the rest of her pay. ‘You did a good job. Maybe you should think about working in the food industry.’

She shook her head firmly. ‘Nup. I want to work for you.’

I sighed. ‘Look, Cass, it’s been cool this week, but I can’t afford to keep paying you. Plus you need to get on with your life.’

Her face took on a stubborn set. ‘I’m gonna go to TAFE and get better at reading. Your mum’s gonna try and get me a job at the Claremont Growers Market. But when I can read, I’m coming to work for you.’