by JR Carroll
They had settled on a venue for the next stage of the evening’s drinking and were making their way along Little Bourke Street, towards Russell Street, when a stifled cry came from a knot of people standing near a lane entrance ahead of them. A woman’s voice then shouted, ‘Look out – he’s got a gun,’ and the knot of onlookers started rapidly dispersing.
Alex and Wolfgang stood their ground against the flow of retreating citizenry, and when the space had cleared they could plainly see a man with something that might have been a gun in his hand standing over another man, who was quite prone but moaning audibly.
‘Back off!’ the man yelled at everyone and anyone, swivelling his gun-hand from right to left, and back again. ‘I’ll shoot any cunt comes near me! Fuckin’ back right off!’
Smackhead, Alex decided straightaway. Big Problems. The smackhead bent over the prostrate man, pulling at his shirt and apparently trying to go through his pockets while the victim writhed and made incoherent noises.
Alex positioned himself directly in front of the gunman and said, ‘Leave him alone, mate. Put the gun away. You don’t want to hurt anyone.’
‘What would you fuckin’ know, you fat slug,’ the gunman spat, looking up from his pocket-searching and aiming the weapon, which Alex could plainly see was a revolver, straight at him. It looked real enough.
Alex put his hands out in front of him to show how harmless he was and kept him going for a few minutes with some placatory chatter, all of which failed to make any impression. If anything, the man was becoming even more agitated and unpredictable. But Alex knew enough about negotiating techniques to keep shifting his ground to be agreeable and thereby make the subject feel that he was controlling the situation.
‘You don’t have to get into any trouble if you don’t want to,’ Alex said, calmly and reasonably, for the third time. ‘You just have to put the gun down and walk away. No dramas. No-one’s going to hurt you.’
‘I fuckin’ know that,’ the gunman said, still trying to search his victim, but unable to do so properly because of Alex’s annoying presence, a hulking shape that was inching closer and closer to him. Who was this bastard? ‘But I might hurt someone if you don’t fuckin’ back off and piss right off! What are you, a fuckin’ cop or somethin’? I love shootin’ cops.’
‘No,’ Alex said, ‘I’m not a cop. I just don’t like seeing people get hurt unnecessarily. We could all walk away from this real easy like, and there’d be no need for cops or anything. But if you keep waving that gun around it might go off, and then you will be in deep shit.’
‘Might go off all right. Might go off in your fuckin’ fat face if you wanna be a hero, mate. Now I’m gonna count to three, and if you don’t fuckin’…’
The rest of the threat was lost forever when the man’s knees seemed to give out from under him. He grunted, then an arm wrapped itself around his throat and Alex saw the blade of a pocket knife pressing into the soft flesh of the man’s throat. Alex hadn’t noticed exactly when Wolfgang had vanished from his side, but sensed he was making a play of some kind. So he must have snuck around the block to come up behind his quarry like that. But it didn’t seem to Alex that he had time to go all the way around the block, so he must have found another way into the lane, probably through a building.
‘One, two, three,’ Wolfgang said. ‘Now put the fuckin’ gun down, dipstick! Do it!’
Amazingly, the man would not. ‘Get fucked!’ he spluttered, struggling, and then he squealed as the tip of the blade went in.
‘It’s all right,’ Wolfgang said in his ear. ‘I won’t cut the vein unless you move. Then you will bleed like a fuckin’ fatted pig, mate, all over the road. You with me?’ He was forcing the man slowly onto his knees; Alex could see streaks of blood on Wolfgang’s knife-hand. Then out of nowhere came a terrific rabbit punch that seemed to reverberate like a minor explosion in the narrow street. The gunman’s face hit the deck. Simultaneously the gun clattered out in front of him. And that was it.
Using a handkerchief Alex picked up the pistol by the barrel while Wolfgang, with one boot firmly planted on the gunman’s neck, wiped the knife on the near-unconscious man’s shirtsleeve before resheathing it. In the meantime the gunman’s victim had got to his feet and was lurching off down the lane.
Alex yelled ‘Hey!’ and made to follow him.
‘Let him go,’ Wolfgang said, stepping away from the scene. ‘Let ’em both loose, mate. They’re just a couple of scumbags doing some business. They’ll sort it out their own way. That’s unless you want to spend the next few hours doing paperwork, of course.’
‘This gun’s a plastic replica,’ Alex said.
‘See? No harm done. Just another fun night in shitsville.’
‘Fuck it,’ Alex said, tossing the piece at the gunman and bouncing it off his head. ‘I’m off-duty and I want a drink. I didn’t see a thing. Come on, before anyone makes us for cops.’
They scarpered, ducking around a corner and laughing as the wail of police sirens filled the street: Whoop-whoop. Whoop-whoop. Hearing it, the offender got to his feet, shook himself off, rubbed his neck, swore, picked up his fake gun and melted, cursing bitterly, into the obscurity of the lane behind him.
11
When Danny returned from the shops with fruit juice, croissants and the paper, Mischa was partly awake but looking as if she’d been put through a commando course. He put his things on the dresser, sat on the bed and touched her face, evincing soft, purring sounds but not much else.
‘Got some stuff,’ he said.
There was a muffled response and the faintest hint of a smile. The eyes were closed.
‘Wha’ stuff.’
‘Nice things to eat.’
She took his hand, brought it against her lips and raised the energy to kiss it.
‘So tired, Danny,’ she whispered.
He leaned over, took her in his arms and held her. She was as warm as a bird in its nest and reeking of recent sexual activity. ‘Poor Mischa. How about breakfast in bed.’
There was a faintly affirmative sound. He was still holding her and feeling the throb of the pulse in her throat. ‘Mus’ wake up,’ she murmured.
‘You don’t have to. I’ll tell you what.’
‘What.’
‘I’ll go and get everything ready and you see if you can wake up.’
‘All right.’
‘I’ll be back soon. Ten minutes.’
‘All right.’
He planted a kiss on her cheek and another one on her lips. He could feel her coming to him through her sleepiness.
‘Don’t go far,’ she said.
‘Never,’ he said, withdrawing, his arms trailing away from her softness. In an attempt to rouse herself she pushed the covers back, revealing her shiny and slightly flattened breasts. Danny watched as, frowning slightly, she slid a hand between her legs and appeared to scratch her vagina. He picked up the breakfast things and went out, leaving the door ajar.
Finding only instant coffee Danny made tea instead, buttered the croissants and poured two glasses of orange juice. There didn’t seem to be any jam to go with the croissants and nor could he find a tray. This was a basic kitchen, in which not a lot of food was prepared. While he was getting things organised, Danny’s mind was going over the newspaper item about that missing girl, Donna Pritchard. He was absolutely certain she was the woman he had seen in the casino. He also suspected Lewis Kenny had something to do with her disappearance and recalled, with a creepy feeling in his water, Kenny coming out of the casino to wish him and Mischa goodnight – and possibly to give Danny some kind of warning that was connected to the girl. Kenny obviously realised that Danny had seen him pressuring her, making him a witness to whatever might transpire – he would be able to identify Kenny and the others.
By the time he returned to the bedroom, Mischa was sitting up in bed with pillows plumped behind her, hands clasped expectantly, with her aquamarine eyes wide open and smiling at him.
‘G
ood morning,’ he said, setting down her tea, juice and croissants on a dinner plate – he would have to make a second trip with his. ‘How are you feeling now.’
‘Terrific,’ she said, eyeing the breakfast. ‘You’re a real star, aren’t you, Danny.’
‘For you I am.’
He sat down carefully so as not to upset the plate, and held her hand. She was so pretty and enticing with her hair a mess, her exposed chest and the lingering smells that were an aphrodisiac coming from her private parts. ‘I’ll have to go back and get mine,’ he said, but didn’t want to let go of her hand. Mischa sipped her tea. When he hadn’t moved after a minute or so she said, ‘Are you going or not.’
‘Guess I’d better.’
‘Hurry back.’
‘I will.’
He came back immediately, put his breakfast plate on the floor next to his side of the bed and started getting undressed. It seemed the natural thing to do. Mischa obviously had no qualms about being nude, but despite all the fucking they’d done Danny felt a bit embarrassed as he pulled his pants and underpants off and kicked them away, while Mischa silently watched him with an admiration that was apparent. Danny knew he had a pretty good body, but hadn’t had many opportunities to show it off. As he was about to get in she reached up and felt his hairless chest and stomach.
‘Your skin’s so fine,’ she said. ‘So smooth. It’s beautiful.’
He was poised there, watching her hand touching him delicately, as if he were a valuable piece of merchandise. He felt himself becoming aroused. They both knew it was a matter of when, not if. Her eyes were wide, watching the effects of her feathery, fingertip caresses with considerable satisfaction. Inevitably her hand moved down a bit lower, teasingly skirting over his vitals as if she had no real designs on them. His penis was fully hard, and now at last she had it firmly within her fingers, and the little game was over …
She got rid of the breakfast and the covers with haste, then he was kneeling in front of her with his dick still in her hand. She was calling the shots this time, it seemed. She slipped down the bed a little and guided him in, then stretched out with her hands behind the pillows while he manoeuvred himself properly inside. He loved the way intense pleasure forced her eyes to shut and a little gasp to escape from her lips with each thrust. Her nest of sea-snakes was alive and slick with his sperm. Looking down he saw numerous darkish stains on the sheet from all the fucking they’d done. Mischa came quickly, twice, and was set to make it three when Danny let fly. But he stayed hard enough for her to nail that third one.
They fucked twice more during the morning, and slept for half an hour. Danny’s untouched and forgotten breakfast was cold on the floor. He woke up and looked at his watch, deciding he really should get a move on.
Reading the signs, Mischa stirred and said, ‘Are you getting up?’
‘I think I’d better,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to hit the casino and make some bucks. I was supposed to see Victor yesterday.’
Mischa raised herself to her hands and knees and got astride him. ‘Not yet, you’re not,’ she said. There was hair across her face and in her mouth, making her look like a slut. She felt for his dick, which in Mischa’s presence was always in varying stages of hardness, and fitted it into her cunt. Then, holding his head in both hands, she kissed him wetly on the mouth, hair and all, and started fucking him over as if it was something she’d just found out about, making loud, sucking sounds between her legs and deliberately moving her tits all over his chest. He was thinking: I’m never getting out of here, and I don’t care.
Recovering afterwards, nestling in his arm, Mischa said, ‘You should shave yourself too, Danny.’
‘Should I.’
‘Then you wouldn’t have any hair at all on you. Except for your head, I mean.’
‘You don’t think I should shave that too.’
‘No, that’s not a good look. But the other thing, definitely.’
‘I don’t know. It’s radical.’
‘If you don’t like it, it’ll grow again, you know. I’ll do it if you like.’
‘You’ll do it? I don’t think so, Mischa.’
‘Why not? I’ve done it before. I’m experienced.’
Danny laughed. ‘That’s true. So, just for the sake of argument … what sort of razor have you got?’ He had no intention of letting her wave sharp instruments near his privates, no matter how experienced she was.
‘Relax,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an electric shaver.’
Danny thought about it for a second and said, ‘Fair enough. Let’s do it.’
‘Full on,’ Mischa said.
In the bathroom Danny got rid of most of it using nail scissors, then Mischa finished him off with loving – and sensitive – attention to detail, deftly using her Philishave. The small room was steamy and they were both partly damp from having showered. When she was satisfied she gave herself a quick spit and polish while she was at it, testing the skin with her fingers to make sure it was satiny smooth. Then she finished the job with a spritz of Paloma Picasso eau de toilette. Danny politely declined an offer of same. Checking himself out in the wall mirror he had to admit the effect was striking – he now had a totally hair-free torso. Even his legs were so smooth and shiny they looked as if they had just been waxed. Mischa’s hands – and her lips – were all over him while he stared at his reflection. He lifted her onto the vanity unit, opened up her summer-weight dressing-gown, held her under her knees, gently pushing her legs apart, and pressed his erection into her with her back and head hard up against the large mirror – the unit was exactly the right height for him to put it in from a standing start. Mischa complied without uttering a word, moving into position and following his lead as if it were part of the script. If she thought it unusual to be having sex on a bathroom unit she certainly gave no such indication. When it hit him the sudden stab of ecstasy was so overwhelming it really did make Danny’s knees tremble, almost to the point of buckling, and while he was coming into her, making little panicky sounds, she hugged him around the neck and mussed his hair and said, ‘Danny darling. You’re such a root rat, aren’t you. I just love you.’
While he was tying his shoes, finally getting ready to leave, he said, ‘Mischa, you know that Lewis Kenny guy. From the casino.’
‘Yeah.’ She was getting into her black jeans, wiggling her backside and then zipping up. ‘What about him.’
‘Remember the night we were there? When we finished playing the pokies, we went past him. He and some other hoods were putting the hard word on this girl, a junkie. Did you notice that?’
‘No,’ she said, more interested now. ‘Why?’
Danny showed her the newspaper article and the picture. ‘That’s the girl, Mischa. Her name’s Donna Pritchard. I’m certain of it. She disappeared after leaving the casino yesterday morning.’
‘So. People disappear, don’t they. Especially junkies.’
‘Mischa. This girl was being heavied by Kenny for some reason, probably she owed him money for drugs or something, and next thing she’s gone. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘I guess so, yeah. It says here she lives in Prahran.’
‘Right. Now here’s something else. While we were in the Petite Fleur, you know, the cafe, I noticed Lewis Kenny walk past.’
‘Full on! Shit.’
‘He didn’t see me. He was a man going somewhere, or maybe going from somewhere – in Prahran, Mischa. Where this missing girl just happens to live.’
Now Mischa could see where he was coming from. ‘That’s scary, Danny,’ she said.
‘I know. It is. Very fucking scary. The guy might be a killer.’
‘He went past when we were in there, drinking champagne?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you think he might’ve already done something to that girl when you saw him?’
‘Yes. He gives me a creepy feeling, that guy. I hate being around him. He’s … right off.’
‘Fuck.�
�
‘I just know he’s killed her. I feel it.’
‘Danny. You might be overreacting.’
‘No. You didn’t see it the way I did, Mischa.’
‘No, but still …’
‘I think I should report it to the cops. The homicide squad has asked for witnesses to come forward.’
Mischa didn’t say anything – she had no desire to encourage that course of action. She waited a minute, then said: ‘You going to the casino now?’
‘Yeah. But I have to go home first and get a jacket and tie for the Platinum Room.’
‘Shit, Danny. Be careful. Have nothing to do with him if you see him.’
‘I won’t. But he’s hard to get away from. He just sort of … turns up, out of nowhere.’
Mischa gave him a hug and a kiss as he made to go, checking his pockets for keys and wallet. ‘When am I going to see you again?’ she said.
‘I was just going to ask you that. Whenever you want. What about tonight?’
‘Tonight. Yes.’
They kissed again, really doing it this time. ‘What about every night?’ he said.
‘Yes. Yes.’
‘I mean it. I love you.’ There, he’d said it. On hearing the words she squeezed him harder.
‘Do you, Danny Goldfingers?’
‘I sure do.’
‘Maybe you just love my shaved cunt.’
‘I do love that, very much. But I love the rest of you too. Truly.’ Both their hearts were racing, and neither wanted to be the first to let go of the other.
‘Oh, Danny,’ she said. There was a quaver in her voice. He thought she was crying.
He was holding her tight. ‘Mischa, Mischa. That’s Latvian for my darling, and beautiful, beautiful thing.’
‘Is it.’
‘Yep.’
She sniffed. ‘What time will you come back tonight?’
‘Soon as. Not a minute later.’
‘I love you so, Danny Gold. Don’t get lost on me, will you.’
They came apart, and he cradled her face in his hands. She had been crying. He brushed a tear away with his thumb and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her tropical eyes never left his, and the kiss, as always, made his head whirl.
