A key turned in the lock. Sean was home. His hair was messed up like he’d had his head in his hands and the fine lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened. For the first time ever he didn’t smile when he saw me. He slid the brown paper bag off a bottle of Stoli and I leaned back and flicked open the freezer.
‘Snap,’ I said.
He didn’t react. Just took a glass and his mull bowl from the cupboard, and carried the lot to the kidney shaped coffee table in front of the couch. I hopped off my stool and sat next to him. He filled his glass to the brim and polished off a quarter in one slug.
‘I’m sorry.’ I said. ‘I never should have told Vincent. It’s all my fault. Are you in terrible trouble.’
‘Suspended, while they investigate my conduct. Probably an official reprimand and I can forget about a promotion for the next couple of years. Of course that’s the least of it. I fucked up when I shared information with you and now two people are dead.’
‘Two?’
‘Bullet missed his heart, Neville’s going to be fine. More than fine since we have nothing to arrest him for. Wu was charged with malicious wounding, but she’ll get off arguing self defence. What a fuck-up.’ He sucked back on the pipe, held in the smoke, blew it out hard at the ceiling. Another gulp and the glass was half empty and he was packing pipe number two. Talk about comfortably numb.
‘You didn’t kill them, Sean. Things fuck up, people are unpredictable. Vincent wanted to die. Craig was a violent career criminal. It’s not your fault.’ I put my hand on his thigh and he pushed it away.
‘You’d better go. I need to be alone.’
‘Don’t feel guilty.’
‘But I do…’ His voice broke, recovered. ‘I fucking hate violence. Hate it.’
‘Why’d you join the cops?’
A third sip and the vodka was nearly gone. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘A friend of mine was killed.
A long time ago. I’m not in the mood to talk about it. Would you just go?’
‘Fine, I’ll get out of your hair. Just let me shower and change these stinking clothes. I don’t think I got all the blood off at the cop shop.’
He shrugged and when I skolled the rest of my drink it brought tears to my eyes. I shut myself in the bathroom and turned the shower on full bore, heaped my blood spattered clothes on the floor and stepped under the steaming torrent. Usually I was an optimistic person but at that moment it became clear to me the that whole world was shit. I scrubbed at the dried blood and red water gurgled down the plughole. My hair was wet, hanging in strings around my shoulders.
I closed my eyes as water streamed down my face, images playing on the lids. Tammy, wrists gaping, eyes staring. Vincent a steaming mess of blood and bone. I heard the bathroom door creak and opened my eyes. Sean was there, blurred by the glass, watching me through the misty screen. I pushed the shower door open and he stepped into the cubicle fully clothed and stood under the spray. I stared at him as his white shirt soaked through, becoming transparent and clinging to his chest.
Sean reached for me and where the first time had been sweet and soft this was hard and fast and desperate. His tongue was down my throat and his hands were everywhere at once, squeezing my boobs, my bum. I pulled his hair and crushed my mouth onto his, opening my legs, letting him slide a finger inside. Clutching his wrist I forced it in deeper. He kicked off his shoes. I grappled with his jeans, bit down on his shoulder as he finger fucked me, fumbled open the buttons on his shirt. He stopped for a second and dropped it into the corner.
There was a small V of fine hair in the middle of his smooth chest. I sucked his nipples. Bit them. His cock was poking out of his wet jeans and I dropped to my knees on the hard tiles and licked it. It was medium sized, pink, hard as a rock. I took it into the back of my throat without gagging, felt it swell up. Sean groaned, said, ‘No,’ hauled me up and leaned me against the wall.
He kneeled, spread my pussy wide with his fingers and worked my clit with his tongue. He was amazing. In record time I was screaming and pulling his hair. As my legs shook and I held the shower rose for support he grabbed my arse, drew me onto his face, plunged his tongue inside and set me off again.
I breathed. ‘Get up, goddamn you, and fuck me now.’ Not very polite but it worked. He stood, turned me around and I bent over and placed my palms flat on the tiles. He held my hips and pulled me back onto his cock. Water ran down my spine, splashing between us with every thrust. He drove into me, faster and harder, and I was feeling every inch, gasping and delirious as he expanded inside me, and although I usually can’t, I swear I felt it when he came, cock throbbing, semen molten hot and wet.
It must have been three in the morning when a buzzing sound woke me. I was either asleep or passed out in Sean’s bed with my head on his chest. Orange light spilled into the bedroom from a lamp in the lounge.
‘Fuck’s that?’ I muttered.
‘Intercom.’ He rolled over, pulled on a pair of cords and wandered to the front door. ‘This better be good.’
‘Sean, it’s Alex. You gonna buzz me in or should I use my key?’
Chapter Twenty-five
‘Now’s not a good time,’ said Sean, but the speaker had gone dead. From where I lay I could see straight across the lounge room to the front door. A few seconds later Alex let himself in. Sean tried to block him but he pushed past. I lay very still with the sheet pulled up to my chest. Maybe he wouldn’t notice I was there.
‘I know what happened,’ Alex said, ‘and I know you’re beating yourself up about it. I bought vodka and we’re going to sit and drink and talk.’ He brandished another damn bottle of Stoli, then stopped short and squinted when he saw my shape in the bed.
‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t … Simone?’
Sean put a hand on his shoulder, but Alex shrugged him off, marched to the doorway and flicked on the light. I sat up, dishevelled and blinking.
Alex stared at me. His voice was flat. ‘I broke up with Suzy this afternoon.’
On his way out he thrust the bottle at Sean. ‘Keep it. I never liked the shit anyway.’
‘Alex,’ said Sean. But he was gone.
I woke at nine thirty and let Sean sleep while I showered, drank coffee and cleaned up the flat. By eleven I was bored and tiptoed back into the bedroom.
He slept like a child on the wood framed bed, flat on his back, one arm flung out and the other across his face. The grey doona was kicked down to his waist and I watched his smooth chest rise and fall, studied his slightly parted, perfectly formed lips. My stomach flipped. This was all wrong. I hardly ever went for the nice guys.
I hoped when he woke he wouldn’t dwell on the shooting, or Alex walking in on us. Perhaps if I took his mind off it right from the start…
I inched the quilt down over his hips and saw that half my work had already been done. Then I slid down the bed, put his erect cock in my mouth and just kind of rested it there as I watched his face. He stirred, but didn’t wake. I started sucking slowly and softly, massaging his balls with one hand, gradually increasing the pressure and pace until I was sucking for all I was worth, Linda Lovelace style. Sean opened his eyes just before he came, bucking his hips and tangling his fingers in my hair. His semen tasted sweet, no kidding, just like hot peach crumble. I licked my lips and moved up to his other head.
‘Morning.’ I smiled.
‘Fucking Jesus,’ he said. He blinked a couple of times, rubbed his face and turned to me. He was smiling. Mission accomplished.
‘Want to go for breakfast?’
I smiled back. ‘Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.’
We put breakfast on hold while he drove me to Brighton to pick up the Futura. No one tried to stop us and Emery Wade had not secreted his person in any part of the vehicle. I checked. Parking our cars outside my flat we walked to the Turtle Café at the roundabout where Glenhuntly, Broadway and Ormond Roads intersected. We sat outside in the sunshine at a green metal setting.
A dog with a squash
ed face and a red bandanna flopped by its owner’s feet at the next table. Inside the café was a pram jam: strollers stuffed between round wooden tables, babies crying, toddlers scribbling in crayon on wide sheets of butcher’s paper.
Sometimes I thought Elwood was where everyone from St Kilda moved to breed.
A waitress with a tribal tattoo snaking out of her low rise jeans took our orders. Sean went for muesli with yoghurt and a pot of tea. I ordered black coffee and eggs with everything except toast.
‘Why no bread?’ he asked, lighting a Marlboro.
‘Kind of doing the low carb thing, you know.’ I patted my belly.
He shook his head. ‘That’s so bad. You need carbohydrates.’
‘What for?’
‘Energy.’
‘Did I appear to lack energy last night?’
He couldn’t argue with that.
‘Don’t hassle me about my diet,’ I said, ‘and I won’t mention how odd it is that you have a house full of health food and an insatiable appetite for vodka and cigarettes.’
He grinned and sucked back hard on his Marlboro. ‘Deal.’
After we’d eaten I pinched a cigarette off him. The man with the dog left the table next to us and I reached over and picked up his discarded copy of The Age.
The headline read ‘Two Dead in Airport Shootout’. The by-line was Curtis Malone. A picture of Vincent holding the gun, just before he fired, took up most of the front page. I scanned the article.
You could see me from behind in the picture, but Curtis hadn’t mentioned my name. I could have kissed him.
Sean was smoking, staring at the gum tree on the roundabout.
‘Do you want to see?’ I ventured.
He shook his head. ‘I never read bad reviews.’
I put the paper back, turned it upside down. ‘You okay about yesterday?’
‘Which part? The ruined career, senseless slaughter or shattered friendship?’
I must have looked as crushed as I felt because Sean touched my shoulder. ‘Hey, I’ll get over it. I’ve seen worse. And the police service needs me more than I need them.’
‘And Alex?’
‘He’ll forgive me eventually. Maybe by the time I get back from Vietnam.’
I reached across the table for his hand. He twined his fingers in mine. Funny how when you’re first with someone just holding hands can send a jolt up your spine.
‘Is it true what you told me the other night?’ I said. ‘You asked me to stay to keep me safe and had no intention of cracking onto me?’
‘God, no! I was lying my arse off. I’m a guy. First time I saw you I imagined you naked. Right after Neville and Craig shot at us? I wanted to throw you in the back seat and do you then and there.’
‘Serious?’
‘Oh yeah. Wish I had ’cause now I’ve only got seven days to make up for lost time.’
‘It’s going to be a hell of a week,’ I said.
We walked back to my place hand in hand. The sky was deep blue, leaves red and gold, and the dirty canal water sparkled in the pale autumn sun. I knew it was just sex endorphins, but it sure felt like Mills and Boon. I briefly wondered if I were repressing some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder, then thought, screw it, life’s short and you take your happiness whenever and wherever you can find it.
I collected my bags from his boot and we strolled up the path towards the entrance. I was so caught up in thinking about what we might get up to once we were inside that when Sean stopped I bumped straight into the back of him.
A big, balding guy in a striped shirt was standing at the security door, and turned when he saw us. ‘Simone Kirsch?’
Sean stepped between me and the man, held his arm out. ‘I’m a police officer.’
The man laughed. ‘Good for you, mate, I’m a process server.’
He reached around Sean and handed me a white envelope.
‘Consider yourself served.’
Inside the flat I chucked my bags on the ground, ripped open the envelope and read the letter out loud: ‘The Private Agents’ registrar hereby gives Simone Kirsch notice that a hearing shall take place on the ninth of May to determine her fitness to hold an Inquiry Agent’s licence, and whether said licence shall be suspended or cancelled. Ms. Kirsch is alleged to have acted in a manner unfair, dishonest or discreditable on the eighteenth of April at the private residence of Mr. and Mrs. Emery Wade, Brighton. It is alleged she entered the premises under false pretences and stole property, a mobile telephone and charging device.’
I looked at Sean. ‘That bastard Wade. He’s hated me from the start. This is bullshit.’
‘Did you lie your way in and steal a phone?’
‘Well yeah, but—’
‘Then you’re in deep shit.’
‘Tell me about it. If I lose my licence I lose my job. Then what’ll I do?’
‘You could go back to stripping.’
‘I’m turning twenty-nine in November. In a few years all I’ll be fit for is granny-grams.’
‘You could put on stacks of weight and branch out into fat-o-grams too.’
I didn’t laugh. ‘You’re not helping. I need a drink.’ On my way to the cask I saw the answering machine light blinking. I hit play and the message stopped me in my tracks.
It was Lulu. ‘Simone, can’t talk for long. They’re after me. Neville didn’t kill Tammy, her stepfather did. It was Emery Wade.’
Chapter Twenty-six
The call clunked off and Sean and I hovered over the machine.
I played the message again. From the roadworks and traffic in the background it sounded like Lulu was calling from a public phone.
‘Think she’s telling the truth?’ Sean asked.
‘I don’t know. It would explain why Wade wants my licence cancelled. Maybe he’s had me followed all along, and that’s why he knew the exact moment I was at his place. He could’ve set balaclava guy onto me. Shit, maybe the whole thing was a set-up from the start.’
‘You’d better tell me everything.’ He sat on the armchair. In his t-shirt, faded jeans and canvas basketball shoes he looked ten years younger than his actual age of thirty three.
I sat on the couch, flipped open my notebook and went through the case from the beginning. ‘Wade could have wanted Tamara watched so he’d have a witness to tell the police no one came in or out of her flat.’
‘We’re going to take this to Homicide,’ he said
‘What do I give them? A whole lot of conjecture, my word against a respectable lawyer’s, an answering machine tape with unfounded allegations and a bogey man in a black balaclava?
They’ll think I’m just doing it ’cause he’s put in a complaint against me. And then there’s Hannah. She’s a really nice person, and I don’t want to bring any more heat down on her or her girls.’
I lay back on the couch, suddenly overwhelmed.
‘Then don’t mention her. There are ways around it.’
‘You really think they’ll listen to me and investigate Wade?’
‘Probably not. But at least it’ll be in the system. And I can help you with the Wade problem.’
‘How? You’re suspended and going overseas in a week.’
‘We need to find Lulu, see if what she’s said is true and somehow get Wade to drop the complaint. So we do what the police do. Set up a taskforce, brainstorm the problem and delegate responsibility.’
‘To who? Can’t see Alex and Suzy putting up their hands.’
‘Not cops. How about your boss, Tony Torcasio, that journalist you told me about, and your stripper friend. What’s her name—Cleo?’
‘Chloe. Don’t get me wrong, I love her dearly but she couldn’t investigate her way out of a paper bag.’
He sat next to me on the couch and started massaging my thigh. ‘Think outside the square.’
‘You sound like a furniture ad.’
‘It’s what they teach us in detective training. Open your mind.’
‘New age crap.�
��
‘What other choice do you have?’
He had a point, but I continued to sulk. I pushed my bottom lip out a bit.
‘I have to go to St Kilda Road this afternoon for another dressing down about yesterday,’ he said. ‘Come with me and I’ll get someone to take your statement. Then call everyone and see if they can meet us at my place at six for a briefing.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘This is what I do. I’m good at it. You going to stop sulking?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Then I’ve only one option left.’ He winked and stuck his head under my skirt. If I’d had a ring on me I would have popped the question, then and there.
I gave a statement at the St Kilda Road Police Complex to a detective who looked at me as if I was completely wasting his time. Sean didn’t think it was a good idea that I stay at my place, under the circumstances, and even though I now knew this was as much a clever ploy to get into my pants as it was concern for my safety, I lugged my bags back to Fitzroy. Everything I owned was filthy so while he spent the afternoon doing whatever cops do when an operation fucks up and the shit hits the fan, I spent the afternoon in a laundromat on Brunswick Street. As well as drinking whisky and enjoying ‘oral pleasure’ with men of loose morals, PIs do regular stuff too.
When the first load was on, I called Chloe’s mobile. She was having a leisurely lunch on a balcony overlooking the water at the Cove Hotel in Patterson Lakes. So was Curtis. For a couple who hated each other they sure spent a lot of time together.
‘Hey, mate, I heard about the airport. Left some messages on your phone. You alright?’ She sounded like she had a mouthful of hot chips. Chloe was a demon for the carbs but it didn’t matter because it all went straight to her tits.
‘Yeah, except Emery Wade’s trying to have my licence cancelled and I got a phone message from Lulu that said he killed Tammy.’
‘Why would Wade kill Tammy?’
‘That’s what Sean and I are trying to find out. We need your help. Can you and Curtis meet us tonight?’
Simone Kirsch 02 - Rubdown Page 13
