Sharp Shooter

by Marianne Delacourt

  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.

  ‘Tara?’ a muffled voice called out. ‘Are you alright?’

  Dad was at the door, face pressed to the glass.

  I cut short my dramatics and jumped up. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, opening the slider.

  He looked flustered. ‘Tara, do you have Brains in here with you?’

  My heart missed a beat, and I rushed past him to look into the cage. The main door was open. Hoo was sitting over the water container looking slightly bewildered. Alone.

  ‘But she was there when I came back from my run. And then I had a shower and made some calls . . .’ I trailed off as I remembered the screeching when I was on the phone to Wal.

  ‘Dad, you’d better come in,’ I said, shutting the cage door.

  His flustered expression turned into something much sallower. He came in and sat stiffly on the end of the couch. ‘What is it, Tara?’ he said, tersely.

  ‘I’ve got some stuff going on to do with my new work. Some criminals are involved. I’m – I’m working with the police to help catch them.’

  He digested this for a moment. ‘You’re working with the police. Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Dad!’ I feigned hurt. ‘I think one of the crims has taken Brains.’ I paused, letting that sink in as well.

  ‘That’s why you moved them around the back here. To protect them?’

  I nodded. ‘Didn’t do a very good job of it.’

  ‘But what’s it all about?’

  ‘I can’t tell you yet, Dad. It’s police stuff. But I will soon. I promise.’ Too much. I sounded like something out of a B-grade cop show and the suspicious look in Dad’s eyes suggested he thought so too.

  He stood up slowly, his brow crinkling into something quite stern. ‘You need to sort out your affairs, young lady, and bring our bird back. Is that clear?’

  Dad hadn’t used that tone of voice on me since I’d broken his lawnmower in high school, racing against Mr Bok’s ride-on.

  He hadn’t finished either. ‘If anything happens to Brains, your mother will be heartbroken. And I’m telling you very clearly, Tara, I WILL NOT HAVE IT.’

  I don’t know what I’d expected him to say, but it sure wasn’t that. ‘Yes, Dad,’ I said meekly.

  He turned to leave then stopped at the door. ‘I’ll padlock the cage door and give you a key. In the meantime I’ll tell your mother that you’ve taken Brains to the vet because she has beak mite. You’ll then report that the vet recommended an overnight stay. That should give you time to sort this out.’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  He nodded and left.

  Chapter 41

  DAD’S VISIT LEFT A throbbing lump in my stomach. It wasn’t very often my saintly father got peeved with me, and the guilt was almost worse than the thought that someone in a blue BMW was trying to kill me. But nowhere near as bad as the thought that Brains had been hurt or killed because of me.

  I fished around under the couch until I found my thongs and walked to the corner deli to buy some phone credit and a large bag of clinkers. The clinkers raised my blood sugar level sufficiently to narrow my panic from a gushing waterfall into a fast-flowing stream.

  I fell into a Q and A with myself.

  Who’s taken Brains? I asked.

  The BMW driver.

  Possibly. But who is that?

  The crazy woman who rang me?

  Yeah. But who was she?

  Whitey’s wife?

  Hmmm. She had been acting pretty crazy in the shop with Smitty.

  Peter Delgado?

  Nah. Never get his hands dirty.

  A random?

  Possible again, but unlikely given the dead bird and the photo.

  Sam Barbaro?

  He said he’d get me. Plus, he and Zach Lupi could have worked out by now that I was the snooper at the SUP labs.

  Barbaro was the most likely.

  My head hurt.

  Then I had a brain wave. Maybe two different people were threatening me.

  If that was true then there were still only two I was likely to be able to locate. June Whitey and Sam Barbaro.

  Whitey lived in Mosman Park. That was a cinch. But how did I find out where Barbaro was, while he was out on bail?

  It took me the entire bag of clinkers to come up with an idea. I dialled in the credit and then rang Bok.

  He sounded harassed. ‘Can’t talk, T. Major crisis here. I’ve got a day to find another major profile for the first edition or I might as well give the Louies back.’

  Louie was Bok’s name for his Louis Vuitton travel luggage. He’d been given it as a sweetener when he’d got the new job.

  I wanted to cry on his shoulder, but I sucked it up. Bok had his own stuff going on; I couldn’t run to him every time I had a problem.

  ‘You’ll find someone,’ I said confidently.

  ‘Sure.’ After a bit more chitchat, he hung up.

  In the time it had taken me to walk up and back to the deli, Dad had put a padlock on the cage door. Short of carrying the ten-by-eight-feet birdcage off the property, or using a gas torch, no one was going to get at Hoo.

  Meanwhile the poor darling was busy trying to bite the lock off through the bars. I scratched his head but he was much too engrossed to stop.

  I went into the flat and fell on my bed. My feet
were sore from running, and I hadn’t felt this miserable since my ex-boyfriend, Mauritian Pascal, had cleared out of our semidetached with all our furniture and our share-buddy, Janis.

  After some long aching moments of soul searching, I did what any desperate woman would do – I called a crazy, narcoleptic, ex-roadie for help.

  ‘Wal?’

  ‘You gonna let me work for you, Teach?’

  I hesitated one last time before I sealed my doom. ‘Yeah.

  OK. Deal. Remember, there’s no money to pay you with at the moment, but I’ll try and cover any expenses.’ As if!

  ‘Cigs?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Booze?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Bullets?’

  ‘Errr . . . no.’

  ‘Hmmph.’

  ‘But I’ll get you a business card,’ I said, thinking of Bok’s colour photocopier. ‘Now, here’s your first job. I need to find a guy called Sam Barbaro, really quickly.’

  ‘Barbaro? Did he used to work at the servo on Forest and Gugeri? No forehead? Aggro?’

  I remembered Barbaro’s angry surprise when he’d collided with me, his ugly expression. Then later on, Bligh’s inquisition.

  ‘He’s the one.’

  I waited for Wal to continue, but all I got was the sound of heavy breathing.

  ‘Wal!’

  ‘Yo!’ he sounded startled.

  ‘Did you go to sleep?’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s Tara Sharp. We were talking about Sam Barbaro,’ I said, between clenched teeth. ‘I need to find him. Quick. Today. Wal, concentrate, please.’

  ‘Oh that,’ said Wal, collecting himself. ‘Too easy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He lives in the boarding house behind mine.’

  ‘For real?’

  ‘Yup,’ said Wal. ‘That mean you’d be coming over here right now?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m out of baccy. Champion Ruby.’

  I gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Tell me your address.’

  Chapter 42

  IT SHOULD BE TOO ridiculous to be true, but the sad fact was that Perth was so small, as cities go, that it wasn’t even weird that a small-time criminal and a big-time crazy had gravitated towards boarding houses in a similar part of town.