Sharp Turn (6 page)
It wasn’t long before a short, balding guy in bike leathers hustled on through. Even in the club lighting his aura was visible as a strong blue with vivid red flashes. He scanned the bar and made a beeline for me.
He hopped up onto the seat next to me and stuck out his hand. ‘Tara Sharp? I’m Bolo Ignatius.’
I returned the quick, firm handshake with surprise. ‘How did you know me?’
‘I saw you in the paper recently. Didn’t you help one of the local coppers catch a burglar?’
‘Errr . . . yeah . . . sort of . . . Actually, it was Nick Tozzi’s mother. I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Saw the burglar getting away.’
‘Getting away from Eireen? What an outstanding villain!’
Actually, a dead villain, I thought with a shiver.
‘I gather you know her?’ I said.
‘Indeed. I’m terrified of the woman.’
‘Me too.’
We both smiled.
This was getting off to a good start, so I kept rolling. ‘So tell me about your problem.’
He glanced around to make sure no one could hear. ‘I need the utmost discretion on this, Tara. I wouldn’t want to see any of this business end up in the papers.’
‘Of course not,’ I assured him. ‘Client confidentiality and discretion are my middle names. If it makes you feel more comfortable I can send over my client agreement.’
I could feel my nose growing from the lie. I didn’t even have a letterhead let alone a client agreement.
‘Not necessary,’ he said, to my relief. ‘I want this informal and off the record. Nick Tozzi recommended you and that’s good enough for me.’
‘Nick and I have worked together recently,’ I said.
‘He said that you view things differently to most. I’m a businessman, Tara. I know how useful out-of-the-box thinking can be.’
‘I’ll certainly do my best. But go on, please.’
His face fell into an intense arrangement of lines. ‘The final qualifier for the National Championships is on next weekend. If my team doesn’t get the win we’re . . . in trouble.’
‘What sort of trouble? You mean you might have to disband the team?’
‘Yes. My sponsors have told me they won’t renew their investments if we don’t qualify for the Nationals. In the previous state rounds, little accidents kept happening that affected our preparation, and then our result. I want you to help me ensure the same thing doesn’t happen before this race.’
‘Tell me about these accidents.’
He took a deep breath and his blue aura became agitated. ‘Broken levers, bad petrol mixes, electronics malfunctions. Endless little things.’
‘And you wouldn’t put any of it down to general wear and tear and a run of bad luck?’
He looked annoyed. ‘Would I be sitting here talking to you if I thought that? These are NOT coincidences.’
Lesson number one, Tara Sharp – don’t disagree with the client when they’re offering you a job.
‘Do you have any idea who might be behind it?’ I asked.
‘Yes and no. Two other teams are on the same points as us. And a third team is only a few points behind.’
‘Ouch. That’s tight.’
‘One of the three other teams has to be responsible, but I don’t know which one. I want you to find out.’
‘Surely you can eliminate the team behind you if they can’t win?’
‘Not necessarily,’ he said. ‘If we have to withdraw for some reason, they’ll move up a place.’
‘Have you had any problems before with the owners of the other teams?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘We pretty much keep to ourselves. It’s a very competitive business, Tara.’
Nick Tozzi had said as much. I got out my phone and opened my notes. ‘Can you tell me the names of the other teams so I can do some background work?’
‘Riley, Chesley and Bennett. I assume that means you’re happy to take the job?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ My mind was already racing ahead with possibilities as I keyed the names in. ‘Nick said something about your tyre orders going astray?’
‘Just another example,’ he said. ‘We buy our slicks from a supplier in Adelaide.’
‘Why there?’
‘Personal preference. So I don’t have to deal with Riley’s.’
I glanced at my list of team names. ‘Is that the same Riley?’
‘Riley’s Tyres. Team Riley. One and the same. Wouldn’t use them if they had the last rubber on earth.’ He flushed. ‘So to speak.’
So much for no previous conflict.
‘So when can I come out to the track?’ I asked.
‘Tomorrow. There’s an opportunity for you to work in the pits during practice. You’ll arouse less suspicion that way.’
Excitement squirted hotly into my stomach. Me.
The pits.
Hell, yeah
.
‘In what capacity?’ I asked as coolly as I could manage.
‘There’s a man with a mobile food van who sells lunch on practice days. He’s got a bad back and I said I’d find someone who could handle the van this week until he comes back.’
‘Cook?’ I croaked.
‘No, no. Just sandwiches and cans of drink. Maybe the odd bucket of hot chips. Here’s his address.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out his business card with a name and address handwritten on the back. ‘My number’s there as well. Can I ring Jim and tell him you’ll be at his place at 6 am tomorrow to pick up the van? Track opens at 8 am.’
I swallowed hard. I
eat
hot chips; I don’t
cook
them. ‘Sure.’
‘Now,’ he said, ‘what payment arrangement would you prefer? Hourly or retainer?’
Visions of myself knee-deep in chopped lettuce and shredded ham were quickly replaced with the thought of cash flow.
‘Retainer. And I’ll need . . . that is . . . my . . . errr . . . terms . . . are two days in advance when I work on retainer.’
He slipped an envelope out of his pocket and held it just out of my reach. ‘There’s one stipulation. I must find out who’s behind this ahead of the race on Sunday. No other option is acceptable.’
‘I understand.’
‘Fine.’ He handed the envelope to me. ‘This should be enough.’
I swallowed back a whoop at the sight of several crisp one-hundred-dollar notes.
‘I’ll write you a receipt now,’ I said. ‘And send through an invoice for the week.’
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘No paper trail! Your advance can serve as a kill fee if you don’t deliver the information I need in time. However, I don’t anticipate that you’ll let me down. There’ll be some expenses. Keep a handwritten tally that you can destroy afterwards. You’ll get the balance of payment plus expenses next Monday.’
It sounded fair enough.
Crack mooched back along the bar. ‘Ahem, can I get you two any drinks?’ he asked, giving me the stare.
‘I’m right, thanks, but, Bolo, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Crack. Crack’s one of your kind, been sleeping with his motorbike since he was nine years old.’
Crack leaned over the bar. ‘That your Ducati by the door?’
Bolo nodded without turning his head.
‘Limited edition 1198 R Corse,’ said Crack, as though talking to himself. ‘I’d have to give her my bed.’
Bolo laughed. ‘You sound like a man after my own heart. Got any wrenching skills?’
Crack’s eyebrows shot up so high they almost became part of his hairline. ‘I like to mess around with bikes. Can put anything back together. No formal training though. Dad wanted me to be a dentist.’
Crack’s dad had more of a thing about professionals than Joanna did. Crack’s mum, on the other hand, had wanted him to join the circus. How his parents’ marriage had ever survived was one of life’s seven wonders.
Bolo pulled a card from his wallet. ‘Come have a look around the pits sometime.’
Crack’s mouth hung wide open long after Bolo had roared off into the night on his Ducati. When he finally closed it, he took off his apron, ducked under the bar and gave me a hug.
‘What did I do?’ I asked, squirming in his embrace. Crack hadn’t hugged me since I’d pushed over the Laidley twins for bullying him when we were ten.
‘Things always happen around you, T. It’s your karma, I swear.’
‘Is that like . . . karma . . . or
karma
?’ I asked, doing my best
My Name Is Earl
impersonation.
‘Both,’ he said. ‘You’re fucking amazing, I swear.’
He laughed and tried to pick me up, but I weighed over eighty kilos and was half a head taller than him, so that went nowhere fast.
‘Crack!’ Sable’s voice cut through the air like a sharpened machete.
I elbowed Crack off me and threw the apron at him. ‘Get back to work, cuz.’
He slung the apron over his shoulder and hustled back behind the bar.
Sable appeared next to him. ‘Hello, Tara. Here by yourself?’
Sable was like her name: a dark, brown-haired beauty who moved with an animal grace. She favoured bangles, tiny little tank tops, tight pants and high heels. Something about her reminded me of Shakira. Next to her I felt enormous and awkward. It didn’t help that she treated me with suspicion. Other than Bok, Crack was the person I’d gotten into the most trouble with, and we’d made the mistake of reminiscing once too often around Sable. She saw me as a bad influence and was also a bit disapproving of my single status.
To my relief, Edouardo walked in the door on cue.
‘No, actually, I’m meeting someone,’ I said, and waved madly at my gorgeous date.
There were only a few customers in the bar this early but all of them turned to look at him – guys included. I didn’t really focus on the slim hips and ripped torso that showed beneath his thin tee-shirt. To me, Ed was distinguished by his startling aquamarine aura, which flowed around him day and night like a slice of the Coral Sea – clear and bright and healthy.
‘
He’s
with
you
?’ Sable didn’t even bother to keep the disbelief from her voice.
I didn’t answer, waiting for Ed to come close enough to slip his arm around me. He dropped a light kiss on my head and flashed Crack and Sable a stunning smile.
‘Ed, meet my cousin Crack and his partner, Sable,’ I said.
I took a long slurp of my drink while Sable gaped and Ed muttered an appropriate hello. Before Sable could recover enough to start the inquisition, I put the glass back on the bar and stood up.
‘Better dash or we’ll be late for dinner. Catch you soon, guys.’
With that we left.
Don’t you love a grand exit?
‘Y
OU’RE DRIVING,’ SAID
E
D
as we stepped into the dark car park. ‘I caught a lift down here with Vonny.’
‘Okay,’ I said, letting the ‘Vonny’ reference go.
Ed and I had only been dating for a month. He was younger than me, fairly new to town and very beautiful. I was expecting him to find his city legs soon and move on.
We climbed into Mona and headed back up the highway towards Mr Hara’s. Ed put his arm along the back of my seat rest as we drove and massaged my shoulder.
‘Did you get the job?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’m going to be selling sandwiches.’
He stopped rubbing my shoulder for a second. ‘What?’
‘It’s my cover,’ I added. ‘While I’m investigating for my client.’
My phone beeped with a message as I slowed for a red light. I slipped it out of my jeans pocket and passed it to Ed. ‘Can you read it, please?’
I glanced into the rear-view mirror as Ed squinted at the screen and noticed a dark sedan that had been behind me since leaving Sable’s parking area.
‘It’s from Wal Grominsky. He says,
Keep a watch out
for anyone tailing y –
’ I planted the accelerator and ran the red light, ripping a sharp left off the highway soon after.
‘–
ou
,’ Ed oophed out. He fell hard against his door and yelped with pain but I didn’t have time for apologies. In fact, I didn’t say a word for half-a-dozen more hairpin turns and a backtrack around the water tank on top of the Mosman Park hill.
Ed rubbed his shoulder. ‘What the –’ ‘I thought someone was following me,’ I explained as I turned down Mr Hara’s driveway, then off into the garden so I could park Mona behind a large lavender bush.
My heart was pitter-pattering and I fussed with my beach bag to hide the slight shake in my hands.
‘Who?’ Ed asked.
Hoshi’s veranda light flooded into the car and I could see he was looking at me oddly. I gave him a large smile and played for distraction. ‘By the way, Bok wants you to do a swimsuit spread for his magazine.’
Ed stared hard at me, then got out of the car and came around to my side. Before I knew it, he’d opened the door, clicked open my seatbelt and pulled me out. My legs were still a little weak and I buckled.
He caught me and held me close. ‘Tara, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to make it up for myself?’
‘The police found a guy floating belly up near the wharves in Fremantle. He was involved in my last job. I’m just being . . . careful.’