Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust

by Robert G. Barrett

  The fire at the drug lab was the third item on the news and apart from the old brick chimney, there was nothing left of the house. A tired-faced police commander reiterated the problem police faced with drug labs, then the news finished and it was onto the feature stories: the ice epidemic sweeping Sydney, and Melbourne gangsters.

  The ice story centred mainly around some skinny gay bloke who’d lost count of how many blokes had bonked him while he was out skating over the last three years. But it was all cool. He was straight now and had his shit and his tush together. The Melbourne gangster story was better: a baby-faced killer who could still smile after getting a thirty-five-year lagging. But although he’d moved millions of dollars’ worth of pills and either murdered or organised the murders of a raft of rivals in the drug trade, his parents said he was a terrific kid with a great sense of humour, loved animals and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, that’d be right, agreed Les. If me and Eddie got arrested for all the people we’ve sent to an early grave, our parents would say the same about us. My oath they would. Sunday finished with a great story about a young Bondi girl who could play bass guitar like a demon and was killing them overseas.

  Les cleaned up in the kitchen and by the time he’d put the last plate away, things were stirring inside him. Tea was always nice. But the big red-headed Queenslander needed a cup of coffee. A flat white or a cappuccino would suffice. A crisp latte would be even better. Les changed into a clean pair of jeans, a blue Brazilian soccer T-shirt he bought at the op-shop in Hall Street and a black hooded tracksuit top. After plonking his baseball cap on his head, he put his mobile in the front pocket of his top, locked the house and strolled nonchalantly down to Gabrielle’s and Liza’s.

  The owner and the staff gave him a welcoming smile when he walked in and Les was delighted to see Louise and Jenny, wearing jeans and fleecy tops waving to him from the old, blue Chesterfield inside. Les ordered a latte, eased his frame through the other punters and joined his two workmates.

  ‘Hello, ladies,’ smiled Les, pulling up a seat. ‘How are you this morning?’

  ‘Good, Les,’ said Louise. ‘How’s yourself?’

  ‘Not too bad, thanks,’ replied Les.

  ‘Shit! What happened to your face?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘I was sparring with a bloke down the surf club. And he got a bit carried away.’

  ‘So I imagine you sorted him out,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Yes. You could say that,’ replied Les.

  ‘God. I’d hate to have your job,’ said Louise.

  ‘Yeah, well. Someone has to do it,’ shrugged Les. He looked up as his coffee arrived, thanked the girl then turned to the others. ‘So how was it up there last night?’

  ‘How was it?’ echoed Jenny exchanging glances with Louise. ‘It was unreal.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Les, taking a sip of coffee.

  ‘After work,’ said Louise, ‘we were having a few staffies. And Mr Galese came around with the biggest bag of money I’ve ever seen. And gave everyone a thousand dollars.’

  ‘A thousand bucks?’ said Les.

  ‘Yes. Cash,’ said Jenny. ‘Fifties and hundreds.’

  ‘Shit,’ groaned Les. ‘And I have to take the night off.’

  ‘I’ve had my eye on this dress up in Bondi Junction for months,’ said Louise. ‘It’ll be in my wardrobe tomorrow morning. With a matching handbag and shoes.’

  ‘What a boss,’ said Jenny, taking a sip of her flat white. ‘Honestly. He’s a saint.’

  ‘He’s a knight,’ smiled Les. ‘I can verify that.’

  The girls were in a great mood as they all chit-chatted away over their coffees about work and other things. He also agreed with the girls that Billy’s cousin Royce was a bit of a spunk and Eddie always looked sinister when he wore his black leather jacket. The conversation swung round to movies and Les was telling them about Walk the Line when his phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that Les Norton?’

  ‘Yeah. Who’s this?’

  ‘You don’t know me,’ said the voice. ‘But I’m a friend of Bodene Menjou’s.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Les turned to the girls. ‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ he said, then stood up and took his phone out onto the footpath. ‘Now what did you just say? You’re a friend of Bodene Menjou’s.’

  ‘That is right, my friend.’ The voice was guttural and sounded foreign.

  ‘So what are you ringing me for? And how did you get my phone number?’

  ‘Through a mutual aquaintance.’

  ‘All right,’ said Les carefully.

  ‘I hear you’re looking for a film script. In a green bag with an eagle on the side.’

  This took Les back a little. ‘I could be,’ he answered. ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘I might be able to help you,’ said the voice.

  ‘Oh? And what’s your end?’

  ‘Satisfaction. That’s all.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Les, somewhat mystified.

  A sudden sneeze sounded at the end of the line, before the voice asked. ‘What are you doing today?’

  ‘Not much. Having a coffee. Kicking back.’

  ‘Go down to the Bondi Markets. Check out the stalls. And ask the woman who does the tarot reads. You might find what you’re looking for.’

  ‘The Bondi Markets?’ said Les.

  ‘That’s right,’ said the voice. ‘I’ll ring you back later.’

  ‘Hang on. What…?’ The voice hung up. Les thought for a moment, then put his phone back in his top and went in to rejoin the others.

  They ordered more coffees and talked for a while before they were all caffeined out and ready to go their separate ways. ‘So what are you girls doing now?’ asked Les.

  Louise shook her head. ‘I’ve got a stack of housework to do. Starting with a pile of washing.’

  ‘I’m going to Bondi Junction and check out the specials,’ smiled Jenny. ‘What about you, Les?’

  ‘Me,’ replied Les. ‘I might go down and check out the Bondi Markets.’

  ‘Not a bad way to spend Sunday afternoon,’ said Louise. ‘I wish I was going with you.’

  They paid the bill then stepped outside and went their separate ways. The girls walked up to Six Ways, where Louise had left her car. Les strolled down Hall Street towards Campbell Parade.

  Well, that’s a funny one, thought Les, as he neared the Post Office. Some rooster ringing me up out of the blue, telling me where to look for Menny’s script. Whoever it is, they know what they’re talking about. I wonder if it was Lasjoz? He could have got my number off Menny and the voice had a gravelly, European sound. Deep Throat, smiled Les. That’s what I’ve found myself. A Deep Throat. Yeah. Between Irish John and Deep Throat, you can bet I’ll finish up in more deep shit. Les joined the Sunday push along Campbell Parade and walked down to Bondi Beach Public School.

  For a cloudy day, the markets were in full swing, with no shortage of casually dressed punters looking for bargains. Les tended to avoid the place because of the crowds. But now and again he’d pop in to buy a T-shirt, a book or some CDs and it was always a good perv. He stepped through the school gate and joined the throng meandering past stalls selling designer and recycled clothes, paintings, bric-a-brac, body oils, sunglasses, all types of jewellery, Tibetan prayer flags, Laotian fisherman’s pants, miniature musical instruments, hip flasks, and T-shirts with anyone on the front from Che Guevara to the Three Stooges. Or cryptic messages such as VOTE PEDRO or EVERYTHING BEGINS WITH E. Next to a tent offering Thai massage, Les stopped at a stall selling badges and buttons. A yellow one saying I’M NOT REAL SMART BUT I CAN LIFT HEAVY THINGS caught his eye. Just what I need for work, smiled Les. He paid the bloke and put it in his pocket.

  Les drifted up to the stalls at the back selling secondhand goods. He found umbrellas, shoes, toys, kettles, toasters, rolling pins and an assortment of junk you’d probably get cheaper in an op shop. There were backpacks and handbags. But the only green bag was an old vinyl thing with a loose cl
asp. He checked the stalls thoroughly then looked for the woman that did tarot readings.

  Les found her sitting in a small clearing under a tree at a fold-up table covered by a blue cloth. She had a friendly, studious face and straight brown hair, and had on a black top under a loose-fitting blue shirt. A pair of glasses sat halfway down her nose and a gemstone necklace rested across her top. She was on her own, idly shuffling a well-worn set of tarot cards. Les caught her eye and walked up to the empty chair in front of her.

  ‘G’day,’ said Les. ‘All right if I sit down?’

  ‘Please do,’ offered the woman.

  Les sat down and shuffled the chair a little closer to the table. ‘My name’s Les.’

  ‘Hello, Les. I’m Rose,’ smiled the woman.

  Les waited a moment. ‘What do you know about a green bag, Rose?’

  The woman’s smile disappeared and she tilted her head up to fix Les through her glasses. ‘What?’

  ‘A green bag with a black eagle on the side. I was told you might know something about it.’

  Rose looked at Les as if he’d just walked into her house and across her carpet with dog shit all over his shoes. ‘Are you all right?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ replied Les.

  ‘Are you a policeman?’

  Les shook his head. ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘Do you work with my son at the brewery?’

  ‘No. I…work at the Cross.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The woman picked up a brown tapestry bag from near her feet and put it on the table. ‘There. That’s my bag,’ she said, then pointed to the cards and the sign above her saying TAROT READINGS. ‘And do I look like I deal in bags? she asked.

  Les felt like a complete idiot. ‘I’m really sorry, Rose,’ he blurted. ‘I’ve…I’ve got you mixed up with someone else.’ Les got up to leave, then hesitated. ‘Hey, while I’m here. Why don’t you give me a tarot reading?’

  ‘I charge fifteen dollars,’ said the woman, placing her bag back at her feet. ‘Have you got any money—Les, is it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ nodded Les. ‘Yeah I got money, Rose. Heaps.’ Les pulled a healthy roll of fifties and twenties out of his pocket. ‘Do you want me to pay you now?’

  ‘No. That’s all right,’ said Rose. She pushed the cards across to Norton. ‘Okay, Les. Shuffle the cards.’

  ‘Righto.’

  Automatically, Les shuffled the cards like they did at work. He flicked them around, cut them several times and handed them back to Rose.

  ‘I see you’ve done that before, Les,’ smiled Rose. She had a soothing manner and Les began to feel less uncomfortable as she took the cards.

  ‘Yeah. I play a bit of manilla at a friend’s house,’ he replied.

  ‘All right, Les,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll just do a six card read. Pick six cards.’ Carefully Les did what he was told. ‘Now put them down on the table like a cross.’ With Rose directing him, Les again did what he was told. ‘How long since you’ve had a tarot reading?’ asked Rose, putting the remaining cards to one side.

  ‘I’ve never had one,’ answered Les.

  ‘Well. Different readers have different interpretations. But I’ll give you my interpretation. I’ve been told I’m fairly accurate. Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got here.’ Rose turned the cards over in the order Les had placed them on the table. She studied them for a few moments, and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘All right, are they?’ asked Les. ‘I’m not going to get run over by a bus, am I? Or hit by lightning?’

  Rose slowly shook her head. ‘No. Not at all. Actually this is a very interesting spread. I can’t remember ever seeing one like this.’

  ‘Oh?’ Les stared blankly at the coloured figures on the cards. Rose tapped a card in the middle. ‘This is the Hierophant. You search for things. You’ve got an open mind. You take on quests. You can solve things.’

  ‘Yeah. Fair enough,’ said Les. ‘People tell me I would have made a good copper.’

  Rose tapped another card. ‘This is the Tower. It means change. Be prepared. You’re going to have to open many strange doors. So expect the unexpected.’

  Les looked at the card. It was a bit worn. But he could make out a tower being hit by lightning and two people jumping out of a window. ‘I can dig that,’ said Les.

  ‘This is the Seven of Swords,’ said Rose, tapping the next card ‘You have to walk different paths. And someone could be offering you help or advice. Listen to them.’

  ‘Okay,’ nodded Les.

  Rose tapped another card. ‘This is the Seven of Wands. You’ve got a lot of inner strength. You’re able to do your own thing. Mentally and physically.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Les.

  ‘This is the Six of Cups. You’ll meet an old friend. Or an aquaintance. And something old.’ Rose shook her head. ‘This card’s a little odd in comparison to the others.’

  ‘Whatever,’ shrugged Les.

  Rose tapped the last card for moment more than the others. ‘Eight of Pentacles. Again this shows your inner strength. But there’s also something from the past that leads to the future. I’m not sure in what way. But despite your uncanny intuition, you still need guidance.’

  Les let Rose stare at the cards for a few moments. ‘So what’s the story, Rose? I’m a tower of strength, I can get things done. But I need help.’

  ‘Kind of, Les. Yes,’ nodded Rose. ‘But it’s not just the cards. It’s the way they fall.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Have you been in some sort of life-threatening situation lately? Have you escaped injury, but others haven’t?’

  ‘Funny you should say that, Rose,’ answered Les. ‘I got offered a lift home the other night and knocked it back. And there was a bad accident. Some people got killed, actually.’

  ‘Right,’ nodded Rose. ‘And have you been offered an assignment or a request lately to look for something. Like an old painting. Or a book?’

  ‘That’s uncanny, Rose. A friend of mine had an old Bible stolen. And he thinks I might be able to find it. He even offered me a small reward.’

  ‘You’ll find it, Les. And you will be rewarded.’ Rose thought for a moment. ‘Although your reward could come from another source.’

  ‘But I’ll finish in front?’

  ‘Oh yes. Well in front,’ said Rose. ‘There could also be a joker in the pack. Misleading you. So expect the unexpected.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Les.

  ‘And…I don’t know.’ Rose stared at the cards a little mystified. ‘You’re going to find something old.’

  ‘Old?’

  ‘Yes. Really old,’ emphasised Rose. ‘Ancient. And on a different path.’

  ‘Sounds a little kooky,’ said Les.

  ‘Nothing to be afraid of,’ said Rose. ‘But you will be astonished. You’ll also find something else that’s old. Not quite as old. Very different to the other.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Les.

  ‘Just be careful, Les. You’ll find your desire. And you’ll do quite well. But there could be unexpected pitfalls. Show caution. And use your inner strength. The time could come when you may have to dig deep. Very deep.’ Rose smiled and put the cards back in the pack. ‘So that’s it, Les. Good luck. You’re a nice man.’

  ‘Thanks, Rose.’ Les pulled fifty dollars off his roll and gave it to her. ‘Here Rose,’ he smiled. ‘Take that for me being a bit of dill earlier.’

  ‘You’re no dill, Les,’ replied Rose, pocketing the money. ‘And thank you very much. Come back and tell me what happened. I’m interested.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Goodbye. And thanks again, Rose.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  A blonde girl in a thick red shirt and jeans had been waiting patiently. Les stood up and moved the chair around. ‘There you go,’ he smiled. ‘I warmed the seat for you.’

  The girl returned Norton’s smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  The
girl sat down and Rose straightened her glasses. Norton left the markets and walked straight home.

  Back inside the house, Les made a mug of herb tea and took it into the loungeroom, leaving the TV and stereo off, preferring to sit in silence. Oh shit, thought Les, as he pensively sipped his hot tea. I’m not rapt in those things. That bloody Rainbow Princess read my runes or something in Cairns and I nearly got eaten by a giant cat, or whatever it was. That wasn’t much fun, I can tell you. Les reflected on the blank TV screen and took another sip of tea. But Rose’s was different. It was a tarot. It was definitely a bit spooky how she sniffed out those deaths around me and how I was looking for something for someone. But everything else she told me was quite positive. Just watch myself and I’d finish up with the goodies. I’ll do quite well. She also said someone would be offering me help and I should listen to them. Les took a slow sip of tea. That could be Deep Throat. Hey. Maybe Deep Throat secretly wanted me to have a tarot reading? Maybe it was all in the cards? Like the joker in the pack. Rose also said I might have to open many strange doors. That makes sense if I’m sneaking around looking for something. And I can’t go quietly opening doors with a pair of Doc Martens. For doors you need a key. And, smiled Les, I know just the bloke who can arrange one. Les walked over, picked up the house phone and dialled.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Eddie. It’s Les.’

  ‘Les. How are you, mate?’

  ‘All right. Heaps better than I was.’

  ‘Price said you’ll be back next week some time.’

  ‘Probably. Hey, that was a nice photo in the paper today.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eddie. ‘I just got out of the road in time.’

  ‘Jesus, he cleaned up.’

  ‘Almost two million. It was the sting of the century.’

  ‘It sure was.’

  ‘So what can I do for you, mate?’

  Knowing Eddie disliked talking on the phone, Les got to the point. ‘Eddie, I’m looking for something and I need a key. That mate of yours at Rose Bay still in business?’

  ‘He’s still in business,’ said Eddie. ‘But he’s moved up to Long Jetty on the Central Coast, to be near his family.’

  ‘The Central Coast. That’s all right. I can take a run up.’ The Wile E. Coyote light bulb above Norton’s head suddenly came on. ‘Hey. I might even stay there a couple of nights. Give myself a break from all this noise and pollution. It’s not bad up there.’