“Mashed potato?” He sucked in some air in a reverse whistle.
“Yep”. She twirled, proud as punch and picked up the lid to the steamer. It was full of green vegetables.
“Beans not cooking yet?”
“No silly. Steaming doesn’t take long.” Cate gazed at her man. Suggestively. She turned and tested the spuds. A few more minutes. She turned off the burner under the apple sauce and stirred the contents, then moved away from the hot oven and rested her buttock against the benchtop with her arms folded in front of her.
“Hey, mister, wanna fool around?” She didn’t wait for his reply or approval and grabbed him by both arms, she steered him backwards towards the living room with very little effort.
“What about dinner?” Darren teased.
“What about dinner. This will only take fifteen. Dinner will be thirty. So we can be dirty.” And Cate unbuttoned Darren’s shirt, the one she was wearing. It fell to the carpet. Her breathing was deep and controlled, her breasts were moving with each breath, very slowly up and very slowly down. Darren was hypnotised. She drew him closer. She lifted the long-sleeved T-shirt he was wearing and continued to undress him. He capitulated. With a gentle push from her, he fell backwards on to the white lounge. Cate’s jeans fell to the floor, showing her silky smooth and bare pussy. Slowly, Cate moved closer and straddled him; with her fingers she deftly parted her vagina and took him inside.
The spuds were bubbling on the stove. Luckily, there was still plenty of water in the boiling pot.
After ten minutes of making love on the lounge, she let out a prolonged, muted gasp. Darren followed with a loud sigh of relief.
“Oh, you are so good,” Cate whispered and gently bit him on his left ear. His arms were still around her. “I think I’d better turn off the stove, the spuds are well and truly cooked.” Reluctantly, she pushed herself up from his muscular body.
He rolled to his side and watched her slink off to the kitchen. “Love your arse,” He called out as he ogled her naked sway. Thirty minutes later they were settled in front of their plates and a feast fit for a king and queen. They were hungry and both just hoed in. There was little conversation. There would be time for that a little later.
CHAPTER 47
CONFESSIONS
The dishwasher was gnawing a rhythmical drone in the background. The noise from a souped up rice-burner interrupted the otherwise fairly quiet evening. Down below in the panorama of street lighting and blocks of units to either side around Cate’s upper-storey unit, it was a restful night. The balcony was small, with just enough space for a couple of lightweight cane chairs and a small round glass-top rattan table. A perfect setting for a wonderful evening and a rare moment to be able to sit out on the balcony. Enjoying a perfect low-twenties temperature with a slight breeze, they were comfortably numb from sex and a baked dinner.
All the jobs had been done; the pots and pans cleaned and polished, the benchtop was clear and wiped down spotless. The lights in the living area were dimmed as they each sipped from a hot cup of milky tea. Taking in the night, not saying much.
Cate broke the spell. “Saw you in Narrabeen today.”
“In Narrabeen every day, just about,” he answered without looking at her.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Where were you then?” Darren enquired. Silently, he regretted asking that question. Should have left it. She’s onto me. It would only lead into more questions. Questions about Warraba Road that he didn’t care to go into.
“Warraba Road. On a stake-out.” Cate decided to lob the bait out. Be up front, although she normally would not discuss anything about work, least of all surveillance matters.
Darren remained mute and avoiding any eye contact. He sipped from his tea, his head turning away from her as he scanned the view out from the balcony.
“Why were you going so slow? And how come you came to a near stop in front of DS Auto Repairs. Were you lost?” She was good at prodding. That was her job. She hated doing this to him. But regretfully, it had to be done.
Darren sighed deeply, as if it was going to be his last breath before diving into deep, dark water. “You haven’t met my mate, Nick.” Darren bobbed his head up and down, lips tightened. In readiness, his mind was carefully sorting out the tale. Editing.
“Go on. We’ve got all night. As much as you want to tell me.”
“You really want to know, don’t you? Even though some of my past might compromise your job, if your bosses find out,” he warned.
Cate silently returned his gaze. Locked in. Got you. Do not run away. And I will be in it up to my neck now.
“You might not like me as much.” Darren’s face steeled.
“I’m not going to love you any less. You have secrets, I know you do. I’m not stupid. I’m your lover and mate. But I’m also a copper, and your secrets are not about some secret masturbation ritual with other cabbies.”
Darren raised his eyebrows and smiled deviously. “Oh, shit, now you’ve found out what us cabbies do at two in the morning.”
“Surely not!”
Darren laughed. ”Sometimes you really are very funny”. It was a timely tension-breaking chuckle for both.
“There’s something more sinister, I know. And it’s got to do with Johnno’s death.” She came straight out with it. “When I think back about the taxi-driver kneeling near that body back then, it was more than just a bloke you knew. I am sure about that now.”
Darren finished his tea and set the cup down on the glass top. “A while before Johnno got killed there was a nasty mugging in the same parking area at the Mona Vale. Bloke named Nick got beat up really bad. You haven’t met him, but we became mates since then.”
“What is a while? And what sort of mugging?” Cate asked.
“I got a call for a pick-up at the Mona Vale. When I arrived my fare got the shit kicked out of him by a skin-head. Looked like a skin-head anyway. Remember those turkeys?” Darren moved around in his cane chair and faced Cate more directly. “Anyway, I jumped in and grabbed this skin-head by the scruff and pulled him away. Told him to stop.” He paused briefly. “He was a scrawny looking kid and he had these weird eyes, really dark and beady looking. A face you wouldn’t easily forget.”
“Go on,” Cate pushed.
“The kid managed to free himself from my grip and fucked off. Nick was in a bad way, bleeding and sort of semi-conscious.” He cleared his throat. “Johnno was there as well because he was bouncing at the pub that night.”
“I guess you already knew each other then. It’s after the Manly Hotel history you told me about. Right?” Cate confirmed.
“Yep. So a year later I run into the same skin-head in Manly at the ferry terminal. Only this time he’s not a skinhead anymore, but the face and the eyes…well not much had changed. Still had that evil look. Anyway, after exchanging some pleasantries, so to speak, he told me an interesting story about some gun he’d scored, which he was hoping I would buy.”
Darren looked for Cate’s reaction, but none was forthcoming. She nodded, urging him to get on with it.
“The story gets a bit more involved here.”
“Go on, cut to the chase.”
“It turns out that this kid has stolen this gun and another six from Johnno’s house.”
Cate could not contain her outrage. “What the hell was Johnno doing with six, sorry, seven guns! And what kind of guns are we talking about here? Rifles? Or shotguns?”
“Not rifles. Handguns, different types, mostly twenty-twos. Although the scrawny bugger did try to sell me a .38, Smith & Wesson.”
“Bloody handguns? What was Johnno into? Actually, more to the point, what were you and him into?” Cate got up, clearly agitated and paced in a circle.
“Oi, remember you weren’t going to get all worked up? Come back and sit. Otherwise I’m not telling you anymore.”
She cursed under her breath and took her seat again.
“Johnno got these guns from some drug deal gone si
deways in Melbourne. The Smith & Wesson was actually a hand-me-down from his old man.”
“So I was right, Johnno was into dealing drugs.” Cate said.
“Yes. But he wasn’t into dealing guns. He was into dealing drugs, but only weed and not in a big way. I used to pick up a bit of dope for him from up north. I had nothing to do with selling the shit. I just drove for him, up the North Coast to do a bit of surfing, had a holiday and bring back some weed for him. No big deal.”
“Very illegal, of course,” Cate pointed out. Her expression was stern, like a primary school teacher having just admonished her pupils.
“Oh come on, Cate. It was ages ago, just a few pounds of marijuana here and there.” Darren slouched back into his cane chair, tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.
“You’re not into that anymore I hope. Anyway, back to the guns.”
“Righto, Mum.”
“I’m not your mother! And, what else were you and Johnno into? Come on tell me. I want to know. I want to know everything. You better tell me everything because I’ll find out anyway.”
Now she started to sound like a wife, suspicious of past indiscretions by her husband and not at all like a professional policewoman. Darren thought it rather funny.
“Johnno got wind of someone wanting to buy some guns. It turned out that these guys weren’t very nice. But that’s not the whole story.” He paused, “Is there any beer in the fridge?”
“Not until you tell me more.”
“But I’m thirsty. Aren’t you supposed to give the prisoner water in an interrogation?” he joked.
Cate narrowed her eyes and huffed, but she relented and went to the fridge and got them both a beer.
“Okay, so the little shithead has stolen these guns. But Johnno has already promised them, sorry… sold them to these guys. Except he hasn’t delivered. These blokes turn out to be really pissed off and the meeting turns nasty.” Darren brought the stubby to his lips.
“Not clear here, why are you at this meeting? Are you also involved in this gun deal? Great, you’re a drug dealer and a gun runner.” Cate couldn’t believe what she was hearing shook her head.
“Hold your horses there. I was not a drug dealer and I had nothing to do with those guns, but I used to help Johnno out with debt collecting sometimes. So he asked me to come along in case shit hit the fan. You know, backup.”
Cate’s eyes narrowed again.
“We got into a full-on blue, four of us. But we kicked the shit out of those cunts.”
“Language. I hate that word.”
“What word?”
“The bloody C word,” she snapped.
“Oh, sorry, thought you’d be used to that word, being a copper.”
“Still don’t like hearing it. And certainly not out of your mouth,” she grumbled.
“Fine, I’ll try to remember.” Darren mumbled before continuing his story. “Unfortunately, the leader, a guy by the name of Lars, wound up in a wheel-chair, I found out not long after Johnno beat him senseless. Turned out they were members of a bikie club. The Devil’s Sinners.”
Cate was putting the pieces together. “How’d you find out about the bikie angle? I take it there were no police reports and you wouldn’t have gone to visit them in hospital.”
“Nick’s girlfriend. Well, she’s a nurse. Found out about some bikie being in an accident turning up in emergency. Told me about it not long after when the three of us were having a drink. She told us that the bikie would never walk again.”
“Did you tell her about the fight?”
“No way.” Darren continued, “The other guy with Lars, was Eddie. I pounded him pretty hard. He’s now the leader of the Devil’s Sinners. A concreter I know had done some work for a bikie club that bought a factory in Narrabeen. One of the blokes was in a wheel-chair. I knew that wasn’t a coincidence; it had to be Lars.”
Darren’s eyes turned a darker shade of rage. The tone of his voice changed; he summarised his theory about the cold and calculated killing in the carpark. “That was no random stabbing in the carpark. They set it up. Late night Friday, pissed party-goers milling around at shut-down. Johnno used to say it was the busiest time of the night, to get everyone to fuck off home. It usually went hand in hand with a blue or two. They waited to catch Johnno off guard, so Eddie could kill him while his mates kept him safe. Fucking coward.”
Cate remained silent. She anticipated the next part. Her investigative instincts told her he might open up to share his suspicions, his thoughts, and his answers.
“It was Eddie and his mates. The Devil’s Sinners.” He took a large swig from his beer. The expression on his face was one of loathing and fury.
“Warraba Road. That’s why I was there. Once in a while I do a drive by. To remind me of what still needs doing.”
“And what still needs doing?” Cate asked with apprehension.
Darren got up and walked away.
“Get even.”
CHAPTER 48
BUNDIES & BUDDIES
Today a milestone had been reached. Martin Villier finally got his photo taken for imprinting on his provisional driver’s license. Red plates, valid for one year. Very pleased with himself he took the opportunity to celebrate by going to the pub in Milton. After all, it was Friday afternoon and by the time he was ready to leave for home tomorrow he would be legal to drive, by himself.
A curtain of welcoming, warm air greeted the latest novice driver on the road. As he closed the door he was met by a tight group of out of town road-workers forming an irritating barrier for a small bloke like him. Early Friday evening laughter and loud banter filled the bar-area of the Royal Hotel. Fading daylight combined with dark cloud and a snow-cold south-westerly wind had driven the regular Friday brick-layers, labourers, concreters, log-fellers and fencers into the drinking hole earlier.
Martin squeezed his way to the serving area where he patiently waited his turn. A taller bloke sporting a thick flannel coat was in front of him partially blocking his view. Not long after, the tall blond bloke turned around holding his beer glass high as he tried to escape the jammed up bar-area; he narrowly missed bumping his elbow into Martin’s head.
“Sorry mate, hope I didn’t get ya.”
Martin ducked, but it was a bit after the fact.
“No harm done.” By the time Martin had responded the man had his back to him. Martin slotted through to the bar, one advantage of being of slight build.
“Bundy and Coke,” Martin said as he peeled a twenty out of his wallet.
A few minutes later he settled into a corner away from the crowd, standing near the sound system which had not been unpacked for the evening’s live band entertainment. The band scheduled to play must be popular, Martin thought, as he watched more patrons arriving. The Royal was filling up rapidly. Soon Martin’s quiet corner was swallowed up by small groups of energised revellers. Not the scene he’d been anticipating for the evening. I don’t like being jostled. I hate it when people shove me around. Especially all those fucking schoolies. And the fat-arses. Go away you stupid bitches! He was winding himself up with each new thought.
“Jesus, it’s fucking packed, aye.”
Martin felt a bump to his right side. It annoyed him, but Martin recognised the culprit. It was the tall bloke from the bar who had hovered his beer over Martin’s head.
“Sorry mate, didn’t mean to startle ya, or push ya.” The friendly man offered a generous smile imparting an equally generous Aussie nod and introduced himself, “Peter.”
Martin returned only a reserved gesture by lifting his can of Bundy.
“Cheers.” Peter said with a similar gesture.
Martin turned away from his new acquaintance, preferring to melt into the crowd. From his new spot Martin observed a few older, over-weight women milling around trying to spot an empty table. They were in the line-up to the bistro, wondering what to order, in case, they couldn’t sit down for their meal. You certainly don’t need any more food, girls, Martin
mused with a silent giggle.
Two of the hotel staff opened up the terrace doors to encourage some of the crowd to disperse onto the balcony. The cooler and fresher air mixed rapidly with the warm glow from the roaring open-fire place and three hundred or so bodies jam-packed in the room.
The smokers were out on the terrace. Enticing patrons to move out of the table and chair area would take another influx of people to push the crowd further back. New arrivals came up from the back stairs. The unsealed carpark at the back of the pub was now full. It was only seven o’ clock, Martin was now out on the terrace. Packed here too. Might go back in. Get another couple of Bundies.
By now, Martin had consumed five cans of Bundy. The glow from the stuffy pub room settled nicely on him. I like Bundy Rum. Makes my head zing. Fuck it is hot in here. But I like it. Gonna get another one.
Tonight was unusual: he was without Matt. In fact, Matt would probably be wondering where his cousin was. Haha, Matt, I’m here. You’re not. It’s fucking great! What? Wondering where I am? I’ll tell ya where I am - I am free - free of you tonight. And I’ll be free of you altogether one of these days. Martin pumped himself up.
“Still here mate?” It was the tall blonde-haired bloke again. “I’m heading to the bar. Shout you a Bundy?” Peter offered as he noticed the crushed in Martin’s hand.
Martin wasn’t a friend-maker, but after a quick deliberation he agreed and said, “Sure, mate, I’ll shout the next one.” Surprising himself with that reciprocal offer.
The lanky man came back with two cans of Bundy.
“Cheers.” Martin thanked him.
“I hardly ever come in to town on a Friday night.” Peter said, as he flicked a few strands of thin hair from his unshaven face. “And I probably wouldn’t have if I had known how packed it was going to be. But I’m here now. May as well have some fun.” He took a good swig from the can while keeping his eye on Martin, waiting for a response.
“Don’t know too many people here,” Martin said.
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