Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel

by Donna Joy Usher

  A woman took a seat on the stool next to mine. ‘The usual,’ she said to Bruce. She had huge hair and lots of make-up; her lips were a deep shade of red. I recognised her as one of the women up on stage.

  ‘I’m really enjoying the show,’ I said to her.

  She pivoted a little to look at me and held out her hand. ‘Martine.’

  I winced as I shook it – she was really strong. ‘Chanel.’

  ‘What’s a cute little button of a thing like you doing in a bar by yourself?’

  ‘I’m here with all my friends,’ I said.

  ‘Have they gone to the toilet?’

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘meaning I have no friends. I just moved here.’

  ‘What am I?’ Bruce said from the other side of the bar. ‘Pork chops?’

  ‘You’re the tastiest pork chop I’ve ever seen,’ Martine said in her deep voice.

  ‘I have no friends except for Bruce,’ I amended.

  ‘Well that’s a sad state of affairs. We’ll have to see what we can do about that.’ Her smile was so sincere I thought, for a terrifying second, I was going to get all teary.

  ‘Hey Ronnie,’ she yelled, ‘get over here.’

  Another one of the showgirls wandered over to the bar and Bruce handed her a glass of wine. I recognised her as the singer. Up close she was even taller than she had appeared on stage. She wore a short leather skirt that emphasised her muscly legs and rock hard butt. I sighed. There wasn’t the slightest hope my arse would ever be that good.

  ‘This is Chanel,’ Martine said.

  ‘That’s my favourite perfume.’ Ronnie leant over and sniffed my neck. ‘Yep, you smell good.’

  ‘Ronnie,’ Martine said, laughing as she slapped her friend on the arm. ‘Don’t freak her out. She’s just a baby.’

  ‘I gotta go anyway,’ Ronnie said, winking at me. ‘I’m up next.’ She skolled the glass Bruce had handed her and strode off towards the stage.

  ‘So what brings you to this neck of the woods?’ Martine asked.

  ‘Work,’ I said with a sigh.

  ‘What do you do for a crumb?’

  ‘Don’t hate me,’ I said, looking at her, ‘I’m a cop.’

  ‘Wow. You don’t look like a cop.’

  ‘What do cops look like?’

  ‘Well … bigger and burlier. And they have more facial hair.’

  ‘I wax.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind meeting a big burly hairy cop,’ she said. ‘Are there any where you work?’

  I ran through the guys at work, trying to dissect out the burly hairy ones. Bob was pretty big, but he had a baby soft face, so I was guessing that didn’t count. Plus he was more flab than fab, and I was thinking Martine was after fab.

  ‘There’s one,’ I said, thinking of Roger, ‘but he’s not that hairy and I’ve got dibs on him.’

  Martine let out a little squeal and clapped her hands together. ‘Tell me all about him,’ she said.

  ‘He’s blonde and really fit and well, he’s English.’

  ‘Say no more sister; nothing sexier than a man with an accent.’

  ‘And he’s a detective.’

  ‘So he’s successful as well. He sounds like the bomb.’

  ‘He is pretty dreamy,’ I said.

  Bruce winked as he deposited another Dazzle house special in front of me. ‘Ahh Martine,’ he said, ‘shouldn’t you be getting ready?’

  ‘Shit. Raincheck,’ she said springing to her feet. ‘I’m in the next act.’

  The next act was a more upbeat number. They spun around on stage with umbrellas while Ronnie sang, ‘It’s Raining Men’. I found myself tapping my feet and bopping my head.

  A few songs later, Martine reappeared by my side and took a seat. ‘So,’ she said, ‘what happened at work today?’ I looked at her in surprise and she said, ‘You frown when you mention work.’

  ‘Do you really want to hear it?’

  ‘I’m done for the night so hit me.’

  So I told her all about work and at the end she shook her head. ‘That doesn’t sound very fair. Isn’t there a board or something you can complain to?’

  ‘Probably,’ I said, ‘but from what I’ve learned of the Police Force, you don’t want to create waves, especially not just out of the Academy. Plus … I’m a woman.’

  ‘Why should that make a difference?’

  ‘Well, they recruited us pretty easily – part of the State Government’s pledge to have more women on the Force. If I get known as a troublemaker I’ll never get rid of the stigma.’ I knew this from having listened to Rick talking. ‘I just have to tough it out and earn their respect.’ Unfortunately I had my doubts about whether or not it was possible for me to earn Inspector Ramy’s respect; especially not after the yellow ribbon conversation.

  ‘It’s true,’ she said, ‘it’s so easy for women to be accused of cashing in the furry chequebook.’

  ‘Furry chequebook?’

  ‘You know.’ She pointed down to her nether regions.

  I shook my head.

  She rolled her eyes and pointed at her crutch.

  ‘Oooh,’ I said, ‘the furry chequebook. I won’t be using that.’

  ‘Soooo what are you going to do?’

  ‘Well…’ A stupid idea had been rolling around in the back of my head but I was loath to voice it.

  ‘You can tell me,’ she said, shuffling closer.

  Bruce handed me another drink. ‘And me,’ he said.

  ‘Okay, but you can’t tell anyone because it’s silly.’

  ‘Cross my heart,’ Martine said.

  ‘And hope to die,’ Bruce finished.

  ‘I want to find the serial killer.’ I said the words in a rush, happy to have them out of my head and in the open. Once they were free they swirled around, taking form and becoming a reality.

  My God , I really did want to find the serial killer. I hadn’t admitted it even to myself. The idea was shocking and absurd, but it felt real to me. I wanted to hunt down the bastard who was doing those terrible things to women and make him pay. It didn’t matter that they were prostitutes. They were people, with families and friends, and no-one deserved to be treated like that.

  ‘Silly hey?’ I said, looking at Bruce and Martine’s shocked expressions.

  ‘There’s a serial killer?’ Martine said.

  ‘In the Cross?’ Bruce added.

  ‘You don’t know?’ How could they not know? It was five women now. I filled them in on the basics of the killings, leaving out anything I thought might be confidential.

  ‘No wonder the girls have been acting so strangely,’ Bruce said when I’d finished.

  ‘The girls?’ I asked.

  ‘The group that work this area: Bianca, Rosie, Isabella and Lizette. ‘They normally work different corners, but lately they’ve been hanging together.

  ‘Huh. You know these girls?’

  ‘They’re friends,’ Martine said.

  ‘Do you think they’d talk to me?’

  ‘If we introduced you, they might. They don’t like pigs, sorry, cops much.’

  I yawned and looked at my watch. It was already two in the morning. ‘I need to get to sleep,’ I said apologetically. ‘I’m going to look at some apartments tomorrow.’

  ‘Come back tomorrow night,’ Martine said, ‘and I’ll see if I can get the girls to talk to you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I gave her a hug, surprised at how muscly her torso was. She must really work out.

  I walked the short distance home with my mace in one hand and a whistle in the other, determined not to become victim number six. But even though I was scared I was also euphoric. I had my first lead. Tomorrow night I was going to get to talk to some of the Cross’s prostitutes. I just hoped they could give me some useful information.

  ***

  I looked at three apartments that day. All as bad, if not worse, as the one I was currently living in. I wasn’t really asking for much. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t modern. I just
wanted a clean, quiet place to live. The rest I could deal with.

  I did, however, drop into the dog groomers and get Cocoa booked in for the next day. I also did a large amount of window shopping, too scared to enter the shops in case I damaged the shiny fabrics. If I knew one thing it was that I couldn’t afford anything in those designer stores.

  The show was in full swing by the time I got to Dazzle that night. Bruce was busy with a large group of Asian tourists so I took my seat at the bar and tried to pick Martine out of the dancers.

  Eventually Bruce finished and came over to greet me.

  ‘Lizette and Rosie have agreed to come here and talk to you,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ Raw excitement zinged through my veins.

  ‘Couldn’t pin them down to a time,’ he said, ‘they’ll be here in between business.’

  I sipped my cocktail while I thought about that. I was going to interview them knowing they had just had sex with a strange man. I hadn’t realised what a prude I was till that flashed through my head. I blamed my Mum for my prudish side, always harping on about my virtue and reputation. But Mum was old before her time and I swore I wasn’t going to be like that, so I pushed the thought away and focused instead on what I wanted to ask them.

  Lizette and Rosie approached the bar about an hour later. They were pretty girls, one plump and one thin. They both wore short skirts and tops with plunging necklines, revealing an ample amount of cleavage. Lizette was chewing gum in a quick, anxious fashion, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

  After Bruce introduced us they perched on the edge of the stools closest to me, their bodies tensed as if ready to flee. Rosie kept looking over her shoulder and licking her lips.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ I said.

  Lizette blew a large bubble, popped it with her finger and then stabbed the gum back into her mouth.

  ‘So, umm, I was wondering if you knew anything about the latest murder?’ It wasn’t how I had wanted to start the questioning but their body language was unnerving me.

  ‘And if we did, why should we tell you?’ Lizette asked. She blew out another bubble which swiftly met the same fate as the first.

  ‘Because you care that prostitutes are dying? Yeah right,’ Rosie said. She blinked rapidly a few times and then rubbed the back of her neck.

  ‘I care that people are dying,’ I said, staring into her eyes. She met my gaze for a few seconds before breaking away and looking nervously over her shoulder. I resisted the urge to do the same.

  Lizette gnawed at her bottom lip as she stared at the floor. ‘Maybe you do,’ she said, scraping her hands through her hair. ‘But how do we know we can trust you?’

  ‘Do you know something?’ I leant forward in my chair.

  Like a startled animal she slid off the stool and backed away from me. ‘I don’t think you can help us,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You’re too young and …’

  ‘Powerless,’ Rosie said, also standing up.

  ‘You do know something,’ I said. ‘You have to tell me what you know.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Rosie said. ‘We don’t know who sent you.’ She took Lizette’s hand and they hurried from the room.

  ‘That was weird,’ I said to Bruce once they’d gone.

  ‘Did they tell you anything?’

  ‘No, but they know something. They’re scared.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s more than that.’ I paused to think about it. ‘They wanted to be protected and they didn’t think I was up to the job. They were right too. I mean what could I do for them?’ I felt deflated. I’d been so excited about this, certain I’d get a lead, and I still had nothing.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Bruce asked.

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Don’t give up.’

  ‘Well, I guess I could go over the crime scenes and see if they missed anything.’ I snorted as I said it. I mean as if I would find something that the trained detectives had missed, that Roger had missed. I may as well be looking for the cure for cancer.

  Plus, I only knew of the one site, so I was going to have to wheedle the others out of Roger. I was going to have to bat my eyelids and flirt with everything I had.

  Well, that I could do.

  I had no doubt that with my kissaliscious bubble gum lip gloss, school-girl-cute-ponytail, trusty push-up bra, and a ‘lost’ button on the top of my uniform blouse, that I would have the information I needed by the end of my first day back at work.

  8

  Sherlock Holmes Eat Your Heart Out

  I woke with just enough time to scoff a bagel and get Cocoa to the groomers. It was a beautiful day, the sort on which you couldn’t help but feel good, no matter how much your life sucked. I decided to walk down into town around the harbour and through the Botanical Gardens while Cocoa was being buffed and polished.

  I took my time making my way to the harbour. Once there I found a café with a view of the city and ordered a coffee. Sydney really was beautiful. I just wished I could find some decent accommodation I could afford.

  Those thoughts were bouncing around in my head when my phone rang. It was Martine.

  ‘Hey girlfriend, where are you at?’

  ‘I’ve walked into town,’ I said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘You won’t believe it; I bumped into the guy who owns the apartment block I live in.’

  ‘He owns the whole block?’

  ‘Yes, but I wouldn’t go there: short, fat, small man syndrome. Anyway it turns out there’s an apartment up for rent and I told him about you.’

  ‘Are dogs allowed?’

  ‘Not normally, but I told him about how you’re a cop, and Cocoa’s gone through police dog training…’

  ‘You know that’s not strictly true, right?’ The night before I’d told her and Bruce about the farting incident.

  ‘Of course, but he doesn’t. Then I started talking about all the killings and how nice it would be to have a police dog on the premises. How it would give all the tenants peace of mind and let us stop thinking about moving out of the Cross.’

  ‘Martine.’ I had to laugh at her audacity.

  ‘Anyway, he wants to meet you and Cocoa this afternoon and if he’s happy it’s yours at a discounted price.’

  ‘Really?’ I screeched into the phone.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I lowered my voice and smiled at the people who had turned to look at me. ‘What time?’

  ‘He’ll be there painting the apartment till four.’

  ‘Cocoa’s at the groomers, I have to get him at 3.30,’ I said.

  ‘The one around the corner from Dazzle?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I’ll meet you there.’

  ***

  Martine was waiting out the front when I arrived at the groomers.

  ‘We have to hurry or we’ll miss him,’ she said. Even at this time of day her auburn hair was enormous and she was sporting a full face of make-up. I felt extremely under-dressed in my walking shorts and shoes.

  Cocoa was in a pen playing with a few other dogs. When he saw me he started barking and jumping up and down. His clip looked good and his beard was full and fluffy but his toenails were painted hot pink.

  ‘Holy moly,’ Martine said, staring at his feet. They had clipped them short like a poodle to emphasise his nails.

  The groomer released him from the pen and he bounded towards us, barking as he leapt into my arms. He proceeded to give me a full face wash, managing to get his tongue into my mouth twice as I struggled to avoid him.

  ‘That is one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen,’ Martine said.

  ‘Don’t knock it, it’s the most action I’ve had this year.’ I looked down at his toes. They looked ridiculous. ‘We don’t have time to have this removed do we?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘Not if you want to see the apartment.’

  I paid the groomer and put Cocoa’s hot pink collar back o
n. It and the lead perfectly matched his toenails. The groomer nodded her head in satisfaction.

  Martine shook hers and sighed.

  We made it with five minutes to spare. Joe, the landlord, had finished painting and was cleaning up his mess. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was clean and bright with a modern kitchen and bathroom, and a huge window in the living room looking out towards the city. The bedroom was on a mezzanine platform looking over the living area. I loved it.

  ‘I thoughts you said he was a police dog,’ Joe said to Martine. His paunch was flowing over the top of his workpants and I was having trouble not looking. Unfortunately the alternative was his chest, where his half open shirt revealed several dangling gold chains and a large amount of sweaty black hair.

  ‘Oh he is,’ she said. ‘He’s undercover.’

  He looked sceptical so I said, ‘Look we can’t give you all the details. That’s why they call it undercover. But let’s just say he’s trained to sniff out explosives.’

  I was going to say drugs, but at the last second considered the fact that Joe may not want a dog that can sniff out drugs living in his block. If I had seen Joe while out with Roger I would have guessed drug dealer or pimp.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘like one of them dogs that finds terrorists?’

  I didn’t say anything, but I tapped the side of my nose and nodded.

  ‘You can’t tell anyone,’ Martine warned him.

  ‘Don’t want to blow his cover,’ I said, smiling sweetly.

  Joe looked at Cocoa with a look bordering on reverence. ‘It would be a pleasure to have you living in my apartment,’ he told me.

  I tried to conceal my excitement. ‘When can we move in?’

  ‘Well the paint should be dry by tomorrow. Do you want it furnished? Cause it’ll take me a couple of days to lose the furniture.’

  ‘Furnished will be perfect.’

  ‘Well tomorrow then. I can meet you here at say nine and give you the keys.’