Rosa-Marie's Baby

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘There he is!’ shrieked Eddie, in a whiney, high-pitched voice, pointing at Latte. ‘The one who fornicates with dogs and desecrated the tomb of Kareem.’

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’ howled Les.

  ‘Seize the infidel,’ yelled Eddie.

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’

  The band played on out the back, but everything in the front room stopped as all eyes fell on Les and Eddie. Latte had a look of outraged indignation on his face when Eddie strode across the room and sunk a left rip into his solar plexus. Lindsey went white, his knees buckled and he started gasping for breath as Les grabbed him by his right arm and pinned it down on a stack of books piled on a table behind him.

  ‘This man is a thief, a liar and a desecrator,’ shrieked Eddie, pointing Latte out to everyone in the room.

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’ howled Les.

  ‘Death to thieves and liars,’ shrieked Eddie. ‘And all those who would desecrate the tomb of Kareem.’

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’ yelled Les.

  ‘Hold out the hand of the infidel desecrator,’ yelled Eddie, whipping the cleaver out from under his dajdaja.

  ‘Aiee! Aiee! Death to the infidel,’ said Les.

  Latte went even whiter when he saw the cleaver in Eddie’s hand. ‘Help me, somebody. Please,’ he whined.

  ‘Silence, dog,’ shouted Eddie.

  Les pushed Latte’s right hand down on the books palm up, Eddie brought the razor-sharp cleaver down with a solid crunch and Latte’s right little finger came off, spurting blood and shreds of nerve endings all over Key to the System of Victorian Plants, Von Mueller, black bound.

  ‘Oh my God,’ screamed Latte.

  Everybody in the shop either gasped or screamed as Eddie quickly removed the ring, left the finger where it was and raised the cleaver again.

  ‘Now hold out the other hand of the infidel,’ shrieked Eddie.

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’

  Les changed sides and forced poor Latte’s left hand down amongst the books on the table. Eddie whipped off Latte’s watch and brought the cleaver down again. Latte’s other little finger came off and a gush of blood spurted across In the Wake of the Windships, Frederick William Wallace.

  ‘Ohhhh, God help me,’ Latte’s anguished cry was pitiful to hear.

  Eddie slipped the watch and ring under his dajdaja then picked up the two fingers as Les let go of Lindsey. Moaning with pain, Latte slumped on his backside against the book table, spurting blood all over the carpet.

  ‘Let this be a lesson to all thieves and liars,’ shrieked Eddie, holding the two fingers up in front of the horrified people in the shop. ‘And all those who would desecrate the tomb of Kareem.’

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’ howled Les.

  Eddie gave Latte a parting smack in the teeth with the blunt edge of the cleaver, then slipped it under his dajdaja before turning to Les.

  ‘Come, my brother. Now we must leave.’

  ‘AIEE! AIEE!’

  Les followed Eddie past the ashen-faced woman at the door and into the street. The old white dog was still sitting on the footpath. It saw them coming and started wagging its tail again.

  ‘There you go, mate,’ said Eddie, and tossed the fingers to the dog.

  The old dog snapped them up, and started chewing hungrily.

  ‘Good boy,’ said Les. He gave the old dog a pat on the head, then followed Eddie back to the car and jumped inside.

  ‘How did it go?’ asked Perry, as they drove off.

  ‘Easy as shit,’ replied Eddie. He turned to Les. ‘Mate. You were fuckin unreal back there,’ he said, slapping Les on the back. ‘Good on you.’

  ‘I did my best,’ shrugged Les. ‘And I think I learned something tonight, too.’

  ‘Yeah. What was that, Les?’

  ‘If you know what’s good for you, don’t fuck with the tomb of Kareem.’

  ‘Or the club of Galese,’ winked Eddie.

  Les and Eddie took their Groucho masks off as Perry swung the Holden into another side street then headed towards the CBD. Before long they crossed the Yarra again and were back inside Perry’s garage. Les and Eddie got out of the car and removed their blood-spattered Arabian clothing while Perry unscrewed the number plates on the Holden and changed back into his driver’s suit and cap. They left the two outfits on the floor then washed any blood off themselves in a sink near the fridge. Eddie washed the cleaver, then rinsed Latte’s watch and ring and looked at them sitting in the palm of his hand.

  ‘Hard to believe that ring’s worth twenty grand, isn’t it,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Les. ‘Not a bad-looking watch, though.’

  ‘I have to drop Eddie off at the airport,’ said Perry. ‘What do you want to do, Les?’

  Les thought for a moment. ‘I don’t feel like going straight back to the hotel. And Fitzroy’s definitely brushed. There’s a hotel on the water at St Kilda. I did a TV commercial there the last time I was down here.’

  ‘The Boulevard?’ said Perry.

  ‘That’s it. Can you drop me off there?’

  ‘No worries.’

  Perry got behind the wheel of the BMW, Eddie got in next to him, Les piled in the back and Perry reversed out of the garage.

  Eddie and Perry were talking business in the front so Les just sat back and watched the cars and buildings go past, pleased how smoothly the night had gone and glad it was all over. Before long they were cruising down a wide, flat boulevard with houses on the right, trams in the middle and crowded bars, restaurants and hotels on the left. A tram rattled by at the end and Perry swung the limo left past several blocks of flats. Les got a glimpse of the darkened ocean before Perry pulled up in front of the old hotel.

  ‘All right, Les,’ he said. ‘Here you are.’

  ‘Thanks, Perry.’ Les shook the driver’s hand before he got out. ‘Nice to have met you, mate.’

  ‘You too, Les.’

  ‘I’ll see you back in Sydney, Les,’ said Eddie. ‘Have a good time in Lorne. Hey. And thanks for everything, big fellah. You’re the best.’

  ‘Any time, Eddie,’ winked Les. ‘I’ll see you and the others when I get home.’ Les watched as the limo drove off into the night then turned to the Boulevard Hotel.

  It was the same as the last time Les was there. Big and white, windows overlooking the bay and stairs out the front. Only this time there were a lot more people around. Les walked up the stairs past two security men in jeans and T-shirts and stepped through the door.

  Inside was crowded with casually dressed punters. The lounge area on the right was packed and a band on stage had just finished a bracket. People were swarming everywhere or seated under the stairs at the end or at what tables there were. On the paint-chipped walls were posters for different bands. Bugdust, The Chucky Monroes, They Might Be Vaginas. A girl with spiked dark hair walked past wearing a black T-shirt under a white singlet with I LIKE HARLOCKS SACKS across the front in red. There was a small bar on Norton’s left with a sign above saying TONIGHT, BOB MARLEY BIRTHDAY BASH, CONRAD ROOM. Les went to the bar, got a delicious and stepped back into the crush. The Conrad Room was down to the left, and Les thought he’d check out the Bob Marley Bash.

  The gig was down the end of a corridor and seven dollars in. It was hot, smoky and absolutely jam packed; you couldn’t swing a mouse, let alone a cat. On stage at the far end a DJ in a Jamaican beanie was playing Bob Marley’s ‘Lion In Zion’. Les got pushed and shoved and the ice in his delicious melted before he had a chance to drink it. Les drank some then put the glass on a table and left the Bob Marley fans to it.

  Back at the bar Les ordered another delicious. By the time he’d drunk half he’d had enough. It was a good night in the pub if you wanted to get half full on ink and rage. But being on his own and after what happened earlier, Les wasn’t quite in the mood. He finished his drink and walked outside.

  Still looking for a quiet sort of drink, Les noticed the other bar to the right of the stairs and decided to have a look in there. It was just as crowded as upst
airs and in a corner on the right as you walked in, a three-piece punk band and a singer were all screaming their heads off under a sign saying 102.7 FM TRIPLE R. The band were all stripped to the waist and covered in tattoos, the bearded singer was wearing a buffalo-skin hat and a black and white dress that looked like it was made from an old string shopping bag. It was all ‘Oi, oi, oi’ head-banging, loud and fast. Les walked straight back outside, gulped in some fresh air and cleared his head. He was thinking of having a look in the bars he’d seen round the corner driving there, when a taxi cruised up out the front. It wasn’t getting any earlier, and the bar might still be open at the hotel. Les got in and told the driver to take him to the Southville in Collins Street.

  The taxi ride home was uneventful and after getting hosed the night before, Les felt he was doing the right thing having an early one. This time tomorrow I’ll be in beautiful down-town Lorne, he yawned as they approached the lights of the CBD. The taxi pulled up in front of the hotel, Les paid the driver then returned the porter’s greeting as he stepped through the lobby and into the lift. The bar was still open and about a dozen people were seated around the various tables. Alone at the bar a woman was staring balefully into her drink. There was no mistaking the yellow outfit and neat blonde hair. It was Sonia. Les walked over and stood next to her.

  ‘Hello, Sonia,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

  Sonia gave a start and looked up. ‘Oh, Sonny. Hello.’

  Les gave her a smile. ‘So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’

  Sonia stared into her drink and shook her head. ‘Sonny. You wouldn’t want to know,’ she replied.

  Les immediately took this as an invitation for him to stick around while she poured her heart out. He ordered a delicious then turned to Sonia. ‘Okay if I join you?’

  Sonia indicated to the bar stool alongside her. ‘No worries.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Les sat down and had a pull on a particularly excellent delicious.

  ‘Where have you been tonight, Sonny?’ Sonia asked.

  ‘I had dinner in the restaurant earlier,’ answered Les. ‘Then I went to St Kilda for a Bob Marley night. But it was too crowded, so I came back to the hotel. What about yourself?’

  Sonia drew in a deep breath. ‘I just saw one of the most awful things I’ve ever seen in my life.’

  ‘What? A car accident?’

  ‘If only.’ Sonia stared directly at Les. ‘Sonny. I just saw two Muslim terrorists chop a man’s fingers off.’

  ‘What?’ Les looked horrified. ‘You’re joking,’ he said.

  Sonia shook her head. ‘I wish I was,’ she replied, and gulped down a mouthful of her drink.

  Les took a sip of his delicious. ‘Tell me what happened?’ he asked.

  ‘I was at a rare book sale in a bookshop at Fitzroy,’ said Sonia.

  ‘A rare book sale?’

  ‘Yes. I work for a firm of solicitors in Geelong. They sent me down here to bid for a rare book.’ Sonia indicated with her glass. ‘That’s why I’m staying at the hotel.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Les.

  ‘I was standing in the bookshop talking to the owner, when these two Muslims came in and started screaming and carrying on like madmen.’

  ‘What did they look like?’

  ‘Like … Muslims. Arab headgear, long shirts. Thick moustaches. A tall one and a short one. And they were both wearing sunglasses.’

  ‘Sunglasses.’

  Sonia nodded. ‘The short one did all the talking. The big one just ranted like a lunatic and waved his arms around, yelling Aiee! Aiee!’

  ‘Aiee! Aiee?’ said Les.

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Sonia. ‘Then they grabbed this poor man. Screamed out he was an infidel and a thief. Then held his arms down and chopped his fingers off.’ Sonia shuddered. ‘It was horrible. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life.’

  ‘How many of his fingers did they cut off?’ asked Les.

  ‘I don’t know. They took the fingers with them. But it was a lot. They were brothers, too. Because I heard the small one say to the big one, “Come on, brother. Let’s get out of here.”’

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Les, taking a pensive sip of his delicious. ‘What’s the country coming to?’

  Sonia shook her head. ‘They got some tablecloths and tried to patch the poor man up till the ambulance came. But you should have seen the blood. It was everywhere.’

  ‘I can imagine, Sonia,’ said Les. ‘Shit! That must have been terrible for you.’

  Sonia gulped down some more of her drink. ‘It was. But you know the funny thing, Sonny?’

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘The man they attacked went into shock. And while we were waiting for the ambulance, the owner loosened his tie and took his coat off. And a Cayman Islands bank cheque fell out.’

  Les stopped himself from sputtering into his drink. ‘A Cayman Islands bank cheque?’

  ‘Yes. And not only that,’ said Sonia. ‘They checked the item he had up for sale. And it turned out to be a bit foreign, too.’

  ‘You’re having me on.’

  Sonia shook her head. ‘No. The police came and took down all the details. I only just got here a little while ago. I had to give a statement.’

  ‘Great day in the morning,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes. But not a very nice night.’ Sonia drained her glass.

  Les finished his delicious and pointed to Sonia’s empty glass. ‘Would you like another one, Sonia?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, Sonny. Brandy and lemonade.’

  Les ordered two more drinks, clinked Sonia’s glass and tried not to burst out laughing. Listening to Sonia relay the events at the bookshop had made his night. But the final wash-up with Latte was the icing on the cake. Price and Eddie would crack up when they found out.

  ‘Well if you ask me,’ said Les, ‘maybe the bloke was a thief and an infidel and he got what he deserved.’

  ‘Yes, but these people can’t just come out here to Australia and make their own rules,’ said Sonia.

  ‘You’re right, Sonia,’ nodded Les. ‘And I don’t want to get into it, because you’ll only think I’m prejudiced.’

  ‘Oh. Why’s that, Sonny?’

  ‘Why? Because I’m Jewish. That’s why.’

  ‘Jewish?’

  ‘Yes. Sonny’s just my nickname. My real name’s Solomon. Solomon Klinghoffer.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Sonia, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink. ‘So are you from … Melbourne, Solomon?’

  Les shook his head. ‘Sydney. My family owns a supermarket at Rose Bay. And call me Sonny.’

  ‘Okay. So what brings you to Melbourne, Sonny. Business?’

  ‘No. Holidays. I just stopped in Melbourne to do a little shopping. And tomorrow I’m off to Lorne for a few days.’

  ‘Oh? Geelong’s not far from there. I’ll have to give you my phone number. Maybe we could catch up?’

  Les gave Sonia an oily smile. ‘I’d very much like that,’ he told her.

  ‘Yes. There’s some nice hotels there. Good restaurants. Where are you staying?’

  ‘Otway Plaza Resort.’

  Sonia looked impressed. ‘Oh, lovely.’

  With a couple of brandies under her belt, Sonia started to relax. After a couple of nice bourbons on top of what Sonia just told him, Les was beginning to feel the same way.

  ‘Sonia’, said Les. ‘There’s something I’d like to ask you.’

  ‘Sure,’ smiled Sonia. ‘What is it, Sonny?’

  ‘Well. Yesterday. I wasn’t in my room five minutes and you knocked on my door with that … Well, let’s face it. That line about your suitcase. I mean. What was that all about? You certainly took me by surprise.’

  Sonia looked a little embarrassed. ‘Do you ever experience deja vu, Sonny?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ answered Les. ‘But there’s never any future in it.’

  ‘Yes, okay. Well a year ago, the same thing happened to me in another hotel. This man followed me to my room and started
to attack me. Luckily an army officer came out of his room and the man ran off. But I’ve been really scared when I’m alone in hotels ever since.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ said Les.

  ‘When you were following me down the corridor. I was absolutely terrified. I thought I was going to faint at one stage. Then when you opened the door to your room, and you said what you did about … me being a better woman than you are Gunga Din and all that. When I got inside I started laughing and couldn’t stop. I was so relieved. It was like a huge weight off my shoulders. Then I just felt. I don’t know. I just felt like confronting my fears. So I thought, bugger it.’ Sonia smiled. ‘And I knocked on your door. If that sounds stupid, I’m sorry.’

  Les shook his head. ‘No. It doesn’t sound stupid, Sonia. I think it’s great the way you buried your demons.’ He clinked Sonia’s glass. ‘Good on you.’

  ‘Thank you, Sonny.’

  ‘The other thing I wanted to ask you, Sonia,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s with … Señor Buzz? Where did he come from?’

  Sonia blushed coyly. ‘That’s my woman’s home companion, Sonny. I call him Max.’

  ‘Max?’

  ‘Yes. Short for Maximus.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Les.

  ‘Geelong’s not all that big, Sonny. And if you like a bit of nooky, like I do, it doesn’t take long to get a reputation. So …’

  ‘Hey. Nothing wrong with masturbating, Sonia,’ smiled Les. ‘You’re always in good company.’

  ‘Right on, Sonny,’ said Sonia. ‘And might I say, Solomon, you handled Max wonderfully.’

  Les made an open-handed gesture. ‘What can I say, Sonia? Max did all the heavy lifting. I just gave directions.’

  The barman told them they were closing now and would they like any last drinks. Les looked around and he and Sonia were the only ones left. He asked Sonia if she wanted another brandy. Sonia declined. She’d had enough, it had been a traumatic night and she was getting up early in the morning. But she was glad she had run into Sonny again. Les put the drinks on his tab and smiled at Sonia.