I’m much better now, everything’s healed up except I have a small scar like an appendix one on my left side and a larger one on my collarbone. I think they’re kind of sexy though. Wish you were here to run your tongue along them. Wish you were here to run your tongue along a lot of things…
Damn, gone and got myself all het up now. Better go and sort myself out, if you know what I mean.
I miss you.
Love, Simone xxx
The next time I saw Alex was after Emery Wade’s committal hearing. He was standing on the steps at the Magistrates Court, looking rather suave in his work suit and long wool coat. His thick black hair was pushed back from his forehead and his eyes were dark brown and clear. We hugged and I got a shiver when I smelled that woody aftershave. Here I was, pining for Sean, and I still had the hots for his best friend. Was there something congenitally wrong with me?
‘How’s fraud?’ I asked.
‘Classified,’ he said. But he wasn’t stern, just teasing.
We stared at each other for a while, half smiling. I had my arms crossed. Alex’s hands were thrust deep into his coat pockets and he rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. Lawyers in black robes rushed past and defendants in ill-fitting suits hung around chain-smoking.
I could have sworn he was giving me The Look so I touched his arm and said, ‘Want to go out for a drink sometime?’
He glanced over my shoulder and his expression changed.
I turned to see Suzy hurrying up the steps and removed my hand, and bent slightly at the knees, steeling myself for a bitchfight.
Suzy shook her head and smiled beatifically. ‘Oh, Simone, I’m not going to hit you.’
I eyed her off, still tensed up.
‘I’m on the wagon now. AA. And as part of the program we have to apologise to people we hurt while we were drinking. I am so sorry, Simone. For accusing you of being after Alex, for hitting you. I hope you can forgive me.’
‘Uh, yeah, sure,’ I said, and she hugged me. A long one, with lots of back rubbing. I just stood there like a stunned mullet, not quite sure what to do with my hands. I shot Alex a look but he was staring at his feet. Suzy disengaged herself from me and wrapped her arm around Alex’s waist. She had the glassy eyes and inane smile of a recently born again Christian.
‘Did Alex tell you?’ she said.
‘Tell me what?’
Suzy thrust her right hand out and wiggled her fingers.
Something caught the light and glittered. ‘We’re engaged. Alex asked me to marry him.’
Later that afternoon I met Tony at the Public Bar in North Melbourne. I was itching to get back to work but as soon as I saw him over by the window nursing a beer I knew something was wrong. I ordered a double Jameson’s, cadged a fag off an old dude at the bar and headed over.
‘What’s wrong?’ I sat down.
He stopped tracing lines in the condensation on the glass and looked up at me. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, and it’s no reflection on your investigative abilities or our friendship, but I’m going to have to let you go.’
‘Why?’ I asked, although I already knew.
‘Last year we made an agreement that you could have the job if you stayed out of trouble.’
‘I tried.’
‘I know you did. But look at all this.’ He pulled a stack of newspaper clippings from his briefcase. All mentioned my name, a referred to Tony and most displayed my photograph, the one in the sparkly red bikini. ‘You know that in this biz anonymity’s your greatest asset. I’ve already lost two corporate clients.’
I stayed silent, sipping my whisky and smoking.
Tony said, ‘You’re a risk taker and I worry about you when I should be worrying about my clients.’ He took a card from his wallet and slid it across the table. Beechworth Security and Investigations. ‘They’re looking for people. Mainly insurance stuff.
Boring, but it’s safe and there’s regular work. And I’ll always be here if you need me.’
I stubbed out the cigarette and finished my drink. I stood up and so did Tony. When I rounded the table and hugged him he looked embarrassed.
‘Thanks for everything,’ I said.
Outside the winter afternoon had turned sunny and I tied my denim jacket around my waist. I walked through the Queen Victoria Markets, past stalls that sold luggage and leather belts and through the fresh produce section where lettuce leaves littered the floor and men called out specials on cauliflower. By the time I’d reached the Futura in the market car park I’d made up my mind. I sat behind the wheel and called Chloe.
‘Hey, mate, what’s up?’ she asked.
‘I need cash and I need it fast. Sign me up for any show, any time. The more the better.’
‘You in some kind of trouble?’
‘No, I’m going to open my own detective agency.’
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my family: Anthony Larsen, Thea Woznitza, Tony Redhead, Kelly Burke, Jesse, Kate, Jasmine and Julian Redhead, Jean and Stella O’Connell.
My friends and people who helped out with research: Jemina Napier, Andy Carmichael, Donna Shoebridge, Juliet Lamont, Dorothy Mozejko, Billy Treller, Donna Butler, Helena Bond, Lucy, Carl Donadio, Phillip Barravecchio (sorry for nicking your name), Katherine Brandenburger, Andy Russell, Myles King and Paul Connor.
Carmel Shute and all the wonderful Sisters in Crime.
The Northern Rivers Writers Centre.
Varuna — The Writers House and everyone I met there: Peter Bishop, Mark Macleod, Sheila, Katherine Howell, Alice Nelson, Paola Bilbrough, Angela Schoen.
Everyone at Allen & Unwin, in particular Annette Barlow, Christa Munns, Catherine Milne, Stephanie Whitelock and Andrew Hawkins. And Jo Jarrah, editor.
Andrew Rule and John Silvester.
Trish and Annie from the Greyhound Hotel, the guys from Spyquipworld and the friendly staff at Daily Planet and Southern Comfort.
Doug Mansfield and the Dust Devils: Doug Mansfield, Jack Coleman, Bruce Kane, Gerard Rowan, Nick Del Ray.
The ReMains: Mick Daley, Leigh Ivin, Shaun Butcher, Mick Ward, Sam Martin, Johnny Harris.
Lyrics from ‘Trouble Follows Me’ are reproduced with permission from Doug Mansfield and lyrics from ‘Sick Sister’ are reproduced with permission from Mick Daley.
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