Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust (16 page)

‘Hello, Les,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘How are you, mate?’

Les removed the towel. ‘How do I look, Greg?’

‘Best I’ve seen you looking for ages,’ said Dr Kenneth, examining the cuts. ‘How did all this happen?’

That was another thing the boys hated about Greg. You could never lie to him. ‘I got jumped by a couple of giant drag queens,’ said Les. ‘One kicked me in the face. The other broke a vase over my head.’

‘You weren’t trying to steal their handbags, were you, Les?’

Les closed his eyes. ‘Funny you should say that, Greg. But indirectly, that had something to do with it.’

‘There’s some other lacerations, too,’ noticed
Dr Kenneth. ‘Smaller ones. Where did they come from?’

‘Three crazy women attacked me with broomsticks,’ answered Les.

‘Three crazy women attacked you with broomsticks. What were you trying to steal from them?’

‘Indirectly again, Greg. The same handbag.’

‘The same handbag,’ repeated Dr Kenneth. ‘That’s very good, Les. All right, Lin. Shave the hair around the cut on Mr Norton’s scone. Then give him a local. Do you want a local Les?’ Dr Kenneth asked.

‘Yes please,’ replied Norton. ‘And plenty of it.’

‘Get the big needle, Lin. Clean the rust off with a bit of steel wool.’

Dr Kenneth left the room. Lin got a pair of clippers and removed the hair around the cut on the top of Norton’s head. She left his eyebrow, then got a needle and loaded it up.

‘This might sting a little Mr Norton,’ she said.

‘Good,’ replied Les. ‘I deserve it.’

It stung; then everything settled down. The bleeding eased and in the peace and quiet of the surgery, Les began to chill out. Dr Kenneth returned, put on a pair of latex gloves and started suturing Norton’s scalp. He softly talked about
the weather, Price’s photo in the paper, asked Les how his flu was. Five stitches later, Dr Kenneth started on Norton’s eye.

‘Funny you should mention drag queens,’ said the good doctor as he put the first stitch in. ‘I’m treating a lesbian from up the Cross at the moment. You might know her.’

‘Yeah?’ replied Les, his eyes closed, breathing deeply and totally relaxed under Dr Kenneth’s soothing manner.

‘She’s an exotic dancer. Calls herself Kitty Littah.’

‘Kitty Littah?’ said Les. ‘Can’t say I’ve heard of her.’

‘Fair enough.’ Dr Kenneth snipped the suture. ‘I thought you might have. That’s all.’

Norton’s curiosity was aroused. ‘What are you treating her for? Am I allowed to ask?’

‘Sure. Just a tiny bit of thrush. That’s all. Barely noticeable.’

‘Right,’ said Les, sleepily.

‘But I have to tell you something, Les,’ said Dr Kenneth. ‘This woman has got the cleanest vagina I have ever seen. Ever.’

‘A clean ted?’ said Les.

‘Exceptional, Les. I’ve never seen anything like it. You could eat your dinner off it. The Pope
could serve holy communion on it. It’s absolutely amazing.’

‘Really.’

Dr Kenneth put in another stitch. ‘When I was an intern, I was in gynaecology for a while. And I can tell you, Les, I’ve seen plenty of fannies in my time. But this one is absolutely outstanding.’

Les stifled a yawn. ‘It must be to impress you, Greg.’

‘So being a doctor and into hygiene and all that,’ said Dr Kenneth, ‘I had to find out her secret. So I asked her. I said, your vagina is an absolute credit to you. How do you keep it so clean?’

‘And what did she say?’ asked Les.

‘She said she has a woman in twice a week.’

‘Ohh, piss off will you, Greg,’ moaned Les. ‘Can’t you see I’m in enough pain and suffering as it is?’

‘And you’re going to be in a lot more tonight,’ smiled the good doctor, snipping the fourth and last stitch. ‘So I’m giving you a script for some Panadeine Forte and Valium. When these kick in, you’re going to love me, Les.’

‘Don’t you believe it.’

‘All right, Lin. Bandage Mr Norton up. Escort him to the front desk and tell Anjuska to take his
money.’ Dr Kenneth patted Les on the shoulder. ‘Take it easy for the time being, Les. Then I’ll see you in a week and remove the stitches.’

‘Okay, Greg.’ Les smiled and shook Dr Kenneth’s hand. ‘Thanks a lot, mate.’

Lin put dressing plasters on Norton’s head and eye, then he picked his script up at the desk, produced his Visa card and paid the gap. After thanking Lin and Anjuska, Les walked back to his car and drove home, stopping in Hall Street to pick up his medication. Half an hour later it was dark and Les was home sipping a cup of tea in the kitchen.

Well, that was another good day fucked, moped Les, staring out the kitchen window at the house next door. I know one thing: if that rotten bloody Deep Throat rings me again, I’ll tell him to go fuck himself.

Suddenly Norton’s eyes narrowed. No I won’t. I’ll arrange to meet the bastard somewhere. Then I’ll give him a bit of what those two Tootsies gave me. Les stared out the window a while longer. He didn’t feel hungry. What he felt like was a nice, relaxing hot bath. He finished his tea and left the mug in the sink.

Les ran a bath, tipped in half a packet of Radox, then slowly lowered his bruised and
battered body into the water. It felt divine. Soon all the aches and pains in his back eased and Les almost fell asleep from sheer bliss. After a good long soak, Les got out, had a shave then changed into a clean white T-shirt under his dark blue tracksuit and walked out to the kitchen.

His back felt better. But his head was aching and the stitches hurt if he made any sudden movements. An uncomfortable thought suddenly occurred to Les. What was he going to tell Price and the rest of them? They were expecting him back at the club next week. Les noticed his pills sitting where he’d left them on the kitchen table. He made himself a delicious then washed down two Valium and two Panadeine Forte and checked the TV guide. There was a half good show on SBS about ancient Rome. Les settled down in front of the TV and sipped his delicious.

Another delicious and around thirty minutes into the show, the pills kicked in and Les turned into a big, happy, smiling beach ball. There was no pain. There was no nothing. If the Radox bath was bliss, this was bliss immaculate. Les didn’t give a stuff about anything. If a UFO landed in the backyard and an alien walked
into the loungeroom, Les wouldn’t have moved. He would simply have smiled and said, ‘Hello, little green man. Nice to see you. Have a few Vs dude.’ Les dissolved into the lounge and gazed vacantly at the giant-screen TV. He was gazing away when the ad for Lotus Flower soap came on. Les stared at the TV, then closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. No, he told himself, that can’t possibly be right. I’m seeing things. Through Norton’s sedated eyes, the two big drag queens in the commercial were the same ones who gave him the serve earlier. Chontelle and Lola. Even the voices sounded the same. Les stared at the TV in disbelief right up until Chontelle uttered her line outside the toilet. No, Les told himself. It’s the Valium.

By the time the show ended, Les was almost out to it on the lounge. He left his glass where it was, turned off the TV and the lights and drifted to his room through a beautiful fog of peaceful, tranquil, all-embracing nothingess. He managed to knot a bandana around his head, then smiling blankly round his room, doused the lights and crawled into his soft, warm bed. Les was asleep before he could pull the duvet up under his chin.

W
hen Norton woke up the next morning, the pills had worn off and the big Queenslander was back to the real world.
His head was sore and he could feel the stitches where they tightened on his scalp and above his eye. When he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, Les could also feel where every kick and punch had landed on his body. There would be no running or hitting the heavy bag today. He went to the bathroom, removed the bandana and stared at himself in the mirror. If his head looked rough before, now he could add another, much bigger black eye and more bruising. And I’ve got to meet Topaz and Barbara later, mused Les. That’s going to be nice. The only small consolation was, when he ran a finger round inside his mouth, the chips in his teeth weren’t as bad as he first thought.

‘So how are you going there, tough guy?’ Les asked the reflection smiling mirthlessly back at him in the mirror. ‘What did you say? You got beaten up by three old sheilas with broomsticks and two drag queens. Shit! You are a tough guy, aren’t you. You fuckin moron.’

After finishing in the bathroom, Les walked out to the kitchen. He’d had a good night’s sleep
and apart from some stiffness he didn’t feel lethargic. He still wasn’t that hungry. But he had to eat something. Les put the kettle on and sorted out some poached eggs on toast.

A light breakfast perked Les up even more. He would have enjoyed some exercise. But he’d only tear the stitches. Outside it was quite a nice day, cool and sunny with a light westerly. A nice long walk where no one could see him would be ideal. Les climbed into his old grey tracksuit and trainers, got his sunglasses and drove down to Centennial Park.

Les walked for well over an hour, not thinking about much, mostly taking in the surroundings, nodding to a few joggers, other walkers and any rangers on horseback. It was quite enjoyable out in the sun, amongst the trees and flowers with the birds swooping about or paddling around in the ponds. A couple of things entered his mind about Bodene’s missing script that could be worth looking into. Like the mysterious gay bloke ringing Bodene. Les pondered who that might be. And who was bloody Deep Throat? Could it possibly be one of the three men seated with Bodene the day before? It was all getting a little weird. Les was also thinking of giving the whole idea a complete miss. It certainly hadn’t brought him much joy so far.
But fifty grand was fifty grand. And Rose the tarot lady said he’d be rewarded, and she’d been pretty much on the money so far.

When he’d finished walking, Les drove home and managed to have a shower without getting the stitches wet. As he was towelling off, he could feel the walk had taken a lot of the stiffness out of his back and legs. After several glasses of water, Les changed into his blue cargoes, a white T-shirt he had bought in Hawaii, and a black baseball cap. By now he was ready to kill for a cup of coffee. He wiped his sunglasses, shrugged indifferently at the battered face looking back at him in the bedroom mirror, threw his blue tracksuit top over his shoulder, locked the house and walked down to Gabrielle’s and Liza’s.

The staff and the owner gave Les an inquisitive greeting when he walked in. Topaz and Barbara were seated at the lounge in the middle room where Les liked to sit, both wearing lots of freshly ironed denim and tasteful bling. Barbara’s blonde hair was combed down with tiny blue tips here and there and looked extra good. Which didn’t stop Les as he smiled and walked up to their table.

‘Shit! What happened, Barbara?’ he asked. ‘I thought you were getting your hair done. Were they closed?’

Barbara ignored Les as she and Topaz stared at him. ‘Les,’ said Barbara. ‘Take your sunglasses off.’

‘Sure.’

Both Topaz and Barbara gave a little gasp. ‘Good lord,’ said Topaz. ‘Who gave you that?’

Les took his cap off and bent his head down. ‘The same people that gave me this.’

‘My God,’ said Barbara.

Les put his cap back on and sat down next to Barbara. ‘Well. What’s up?’ he asked as the two girls continued to stare at him. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a bloke with two black eyes and stitches in his head before?’

‘Not one I’ve arranged to meet for coffee,’ said Topaz.

‘Would you like to see some more?’ said Les. He lifted up his T-shirt and showed the girls some of the bruises around his chest and ribs. ‘You like the pattern?’

‘Holy cow,’ said Barbara.

‘Actually,’ said Les. ‘I got this sticking up for you, Beauty Spot.’

‘For me?’ said Barbara.

‘Yeah. I bumped into some blokes last night. And one of them reckoned you weren’t fit to live in a shit house.’

‘What? Who said this?’ demanded Barbara.

‘Some bloke,’ shrugged Les. ‘Anyway. I reckoned you were. And it sort of carried on from there.’

‘Les,’ said Barbara. ‘I might be dumb. But I’m not stupid. What really happened? Christ! When I was working up the club, you were Captain Invincible.’

‘Yeah? Well, Captain Invincible met Kommandant Kryptonite and his offsider.’ The waiter came over and Les ordered a latte. ‘You girls right for coffee?’ Les asked.

‘I’ll have another flat white,’ said Barbara.

‘Yes. Me too,’ said Topaz.

‘Make that one latte and two flat whites, thanks.’

‘No problem,’ said the waiter.

‘So what really happened, Les?’ asked Topaz. ‘Is it okay to ask?’

Les drummed his fingers on the table. ‘What I tell you stays between the three of us. Okay?’

‘Sure,’ nodded Barbara.

‘I got this looking for Bodene’s film script.’

While they waited for the coffees, Les gave the girls a watered-down version of what happened. He didn’t mention the zinger or his trip up to the Central Coast. The coffees arrived, Les sugared his and took an
appreciative sip. ‘So that’s about it, ladies,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘You have your good days and you have your bad days. And that was one of them.’

‘Cripes. Was it what,’ said Topaz.

‘My God!’ laughed Barbara. ‘Les Norton, getting beaten up by drag queens and old ladies with broomsticks. Where will it all end?’

‘Who knows, Barbara,’ said Les, taking a sip of coffee. ‘Anyway. Let’s change the subject. How are you and Bodene getting along?’

‘Good,’ nodded Barbara. ‘Sometimes I think I might have made a wrong mistake going out with him. But he looks after me.’

‘That’s good,’ said Les. ‘I just hope a solid citizen like Menny doesn’t find out about your previous indiscretions in London, Barbara.’

Barbara fluttered her eyelids at Norton. ‘Les,’ she insisted. ‘I did not commit a crime in London. I simply failed to comply with the law. That’s all.’

‘Menny a solid citizen?’ said Topaz. ‘Christ! Him and his friends are that crooked, if they ate nails, they’d shit corkscews.’

‘I don’t think he’d like to hear you saying that, Topaz,’ smiled Les.

‘No,’ said Barbara. ‘Bodene’s got a wonderful
expression: dead fish don’t swim against the current.’

‘Eddie hasn’t got a bad one either,’ said Les. ‘In order for three people to keep a secret, two have got to be dead.’

More coffees arrived, Les ordered a piece of cheesecake and they chit chatted about different things. It turned out Topaz lived at Rose Bay with her Maltese mother. She was an old SCEGGS girl, had a degree in pharmacy from Sydney University and was a fully qualified chemist. But she could earn more money working for Bodene’s Albanian friends in the travel agency.

‘Are you working for the friendly Albanians too, Barbara?’ Les asked.

Barbara nodded. ‘Yes. I help Bodene run the pizza shop. Do the ordering and the books and that.’

‘Cool,’ Les nodded back.

‘We’re no more than a couple of hard-working shop assistants,’ smiled Topaz.

‘Sounds like it,’ said Les, returning Topaz’s smile. He took a sip of coffee and placed his cup down. ‘You know, there’s something I have to ask you girls.’

‘Sure. What’s that Les?’ answered Barbara.

‘Lasjoz,’ said Les. ‘Is he…?’ Les gestured with one hand. ‘Is he a bit Doris?’

The girls exchanged quick glances and Les didn’t have to be psychic to read
Yes, he is,
and
How did you know?
in their eyes.

‘Lasjoz, gay?’ replied Barbara. ‘Not a chance.’

‘No,’ added Topaz. ‘He’s as straight as they come. He’s always trying to hit on me.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Les. ‘I was just curious. Some friends of mine saw him up Oxford Street a few times, that’s all. Does he live up there?’ Les enquired.

‘No. He lives in Bondi,’ said Barbara. ‘In Curlewis Street. The block of flats next to the car wash.’

‘Right,’ nodded Les.

Barbara nodded to Norton’s head. ‘Since you got bashed up by those two Tootsies, you’re seeing poofs everywhere, Les.’

‘You’re probably right, Barbara,’ agreed Les. ‘I’m developing a creeping homophobic paranoia.’

Topaz glanced at her watch. ‘We might have to get going soon, Barbara,’ she declared.

Barbara glanced at her watch also. ‘Yes, you’re right, Topaz. Golly. Where did the time go?’

Topaz turned to Norton. ‘What are you doing tonight, Les?’ she asked.

Les pointed to his black eyes. ‘With a face like
this, what do you think? Staying home where no one can see me.’

‘Yeah, you’re not wrong,’ agreed Barbara. ‘It’d scare a buzzard off a shit cart.’

‘How would you like me to come over and cook tea for you?’ asked Topaz. ‘And we could watch a DVD.’

Les couldn’t believe his luck. He intended getting Topaz’s phone number and asking her out when his face healed up. ‘That would be lovely, Topaz,’ he replied. ‘I’d like that very much.’

‘Better still,’ said Topaz. ‘I’ll bring you over some of my mother’s chicken soup and banana-rhubarb pie.’

‘You got me,’ beamed Les.

‘About seven, seven thirtyish?’

‘That would be great.’

‘I might catch a taxi and we can have a few drinks.’

‘Do that,’ said Les. ‘I’ll pay for it.’

‘No. That’s okay,’ said Topaz.

‘Okay. Well at least let me shout the coffees.’

Les paid for the coffees, cheesecake and bagels. Barbara was parked in Consett Avenue. Les said he’d walk down to the corner with them, then go and have a look at the ocean. He gave Topaz his address, told her he’d see her that night, said
goodbye at the corner and continued on to Campbell Parade.

There were no shortage of people eating or walking around Bondi enjoying the day when Les got there, and although the westerly had blown the surf out, a pocket of waxheads were jammed in the corner at the south end of the beach, surfing the most miniscule break imaginable. After all the coffee he’d drunk, Norton’s mouth felt gluggy, so he thought he’d have a mineral water. He was standing outside Ravesi’s and the bar wasn’t crowded. Les stepped inside and got a middy of mineral water, ice and slice. He found a stool where the windows opened onto Campbell Parade and sat there sipping his mineral water while he checked out the punters.

Les was perving on a young Brazilian girl walking past, who had somehow managed to squeeze her heartbreak behind into an incredibly tight pair of cut-down jeans, and he didn’t notice a tall man with straight brown hair and a straight face approach him on the right. The man was wearing a blue suit, matching tie and sunglasses, and although he appeared fairly nondescript, the way the man moved amongst the backpackers and local street freaks, it didn’t take long to figure out he was a cop.

‘Hello, Les,’ said the man in the blue suit. ‘How are you?’

Les slowly moved his eyes away from the young girl’s behind and looked up. ‘Hey, Rod,’ he smiled. ‘How are you, mate?’

‘Not bad. What are you doing?’

Les nodded to the girl disappearing amongst the crowd along Campbell Parade. ‘I was just watching that sensational little arse go past. I nearly fell off my stool.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Rod. ‘I’ve been tailing her since the Biltmore Hotel. It’s something else, isn’t it?’

The man in the blue suit was Detective Rod Maroney, a good, straight-up cop from Bondi police station. He was an old friend of Billy Dunne’s since school, and like Billy, he wasn’t a bad amateur light-heavyweight boxer before he joined the police force. Now Rod’s kids played soccer with Billy’s and their wives went shopping together. He knew Les and the team and most of what they got up to and as far as Rod was concerned, what he didn’t know about them wouldn’t hurt him. They might not have been one hundred per cent solid citizens, but they weren’t drug dealers, rapists or armed hold-up merchants and they certainly didn’t steal old
lady’s handbags. In fact the boys had helped Rod nick a few lowlifes that needed nicking badly for everybody’s good.

‘So what’s happening, Rod, old son?’ asked Les. ‘You out there patrolling the parks and streets, making sure they’re safe for people to take their drugs in?’

‘I’m doing everything I can to ensure that, Les,’ smiled Rod. The smile vanished and he tapped the window sill in front of where Les was seated. ‘Listen, Les,’ he said, seriously. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m going to give you some real good advice.’

‘Sure,’ said Les, seriously.

‘Don’t be seen hanging around Azulejos with Bodene Menjou.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ nodded Detective Maroney. ‘Keep right away from that lowlife Albanian dropkick. And his friends too.’

‘Okay,’ replied Les. ‘But I haven’t been…’

‘I don’t care what you’ve been doing, Les,’ cut in Rod. ‘Just keep away from the prick.’

‘Okay,’ nodded Les.

‘And those two sheilas. Barbara Lewis and Topaz Delimara. Play them wide, too.’

‘I just had a coffee with them up the road,’ said
Les. ‘I know Barbara from when she used to work at the club.’

‘Yeah. Well, make that your last coffee with them,’ advised Rod.

‘Okay. Fair enough, Rod,’ said Les.

‘Now I have to get back to work.’ Detective Maroney pushed his sunglasses down over the bridge of his nose and smiled. ‘And like they say in your line of work, Les, if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me. All right.’

‘Say nothin’ to nobody,’ Les replied out the side of his mouth.

‘Exactly.’

‘All right. See you, Rod.’ Les raised his glass. ‘And thanks for the tip.’

‘No worries, Les.’