Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust (7 page)

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.’

‘In that case,’ said Eddie. ‘I might be able to do you another favour.’

‘You can?’

‘Yeah. An old mate of mine’s running a big holiday apartment thing at Terrigal. He owes me a favour. I’ll see if can I organise a couple of nights for you on the house.’

Les was chuffed. ‘Unreal.’

‘I’ll ring you back in ten minutes.’

Eddie hung up and Les kicked back in the lounge. Well, this is all right, he smiled. I get my master key and a nice little holiday at the same time. I like Terrigal, and being able to do my own thing up there will be absolutely delightful. Les finished his mug of tea and the second ten minutes had passed, the phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Yeah. I’ve sorted everything out. You got a Biro?’

‘Right here, mate. Fire away.’

Eddie gave Les his locksmith mate’s details and the details of his other mate who ran the resort.

‘You’ll like Ocean Star Apartments,’ said Eddie. ‘They’re right across from the ocean. Glen’s a good bloke, too. And when you get your key cut, slip Kenny a few extra bucks. His granddaughter needs an eye operation.’

‘Good as gold.’

‘All right. Have a good time up there, Les. I’ll see you when you get back.’

‘Okay. Thanks, Eddie.’

Les hung up and took his empty cup out to the kitchen. Well, that’s all right, he smiled. A holiday on the house. Les winked up at the sky. You have your moments, don’t you, boss. Les checked the addresses and the two names again. Kenny Taylor
and Glen Kaplan. I’ll leave the locksmith alone. But I’ll ring the other bloke just to break the ice. Les picked up the phone and dialled again.

‘Hello. Ocean Star. Glen Kaplan speaking.’

‘Oh Glen. My name’s Les Norton. Did Eddie ring you about me?’

‘He sure did.’ The voice was warm and friendly. ‘What time are you coming up?’

‘Depending on the traffic, tomorrow morning before lunch. Is that okay?’

‘No problem at all. You know how to get here?’

‘Yeah. I’ve stayed in Terrigal before.’

‘Well, we’re on the main drag as you pass the Skillion. Just pull into the drive and sound the buzzer.’

‘All right. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks, Glen.’

‘No worries, Les.’

Glen hung up and Les stared at the phone. There it is. Done deal. And there’ll be nothing doing up there early in the week. So I’ll just eat, sleep and train. Maybe have the odd cool one. And forget about Sydney. I wonder what the weather’ll be like? Les peered out the window. Mmmh. Looks like it’s getting ready to rain down here. Les was contemplating what to take with him, when his mobile phone rang. ‘Hello?’

‘Yes. It’s me again. Bodene Menjou’s friend.’

‘Deep Throat,’ said Les.

‘Is that what you wish to call me?’ said the voice.

‘Sure. Why not,’ answered Les.

‘Very well,’ replied the voice. ‘Is good. So how did you go down at the Bondi Markets?’

‘Well, I didn’t find any green bag. And Rose the tarot reader knew nothing. But she gave me a good tarot read.’

‘You had your tarot read?’

‘I sure did,’ said Les.

‘Excellent.’ Suddenly the voice sneezed violently.

‘Gesundheit,’ said Les.

‘Yeah,’ sniffed the voice. ‘Something like that. Now, I have somewhere else for you to look.’

‘Somewhere else?’ said Les.

‘Yes. And there could be more. But I want you to find the bag. It is important you do.’

‘And all you want is satisfaction,’ said Les.

‘That is right. Now have you a Biro ready?’

‘I have.’

‘Excellent. The street runs off Bondi Road and the house is on the right near the end. I believe the bag was left out the front.’

‘Out the front?’

‘Yes. Look for it there. Here is the address.’

‘Righto.’ Les wrote down the address and read it back.

‘That is good,’ said the voice. ‘Now I must go. I will ring you back.’

Les placed his mobile on the table and looked at the address. I think I know where that is, he mused. Not far from the Royal Hotel. He looked out the window again. It looks like it’s going to rain later, so I may as well go round now. No need to get changed. But this time I’ll wear those gloves I keep in the car for changing flats. Christ! If I’d have known all that shit was going to go down, I would have worn them last night. Be nice if I’d cut myself. There was blood everywhere. Les put the address in the back pocket of his jeans, locked the house then climbed behind the wheel of his car and drove off.

The street wasn’t hard to find. It was a short, narrow, one-way thoroughfare running from Bondi Road towards Birrell Street. Les checked the numbers. The house was on the right-hand side near the end, wedged between a small block of units on the right and another house on the left. Les crammed his car against someone’s driveway opposite and walked down. He checked the number, checked it again and gave a double blink.

It was a single-storey cottage with a tatty brick fence out the front and no front gate. A small porch with a front door sat on the right-hand corner, next to a weed-infested driveway that led to an overgrown backyard. Beneath a sagging powerline, several leafless trees pushed against the front and side fences. There was no gate to the side passage, the letter box had broken off and most of the guttering had rusted away. Instead of a verandah, a double room full of broken windows faced the street, covered over by a flapping square of thin green tarpaulin, frayed at the edges and full of splits. The old house was the most decrepit, tumbledown dump Les had ever seen. Squatters wouldn’t even live in it. But as well as being an absolute eyesore, the whole place was piled with rubbish. In some parts, it was over two metres high. Les stood on the unkempt nature strip, gobsmacked.

There were piles of newspapers, magazines and cardboard. Prams, toys, Boogie Boards, Coolite boards, surfboards, push-bikes, scooters, skateboards and other sports goods all rusted and broken. Paint tins, bottles, jars, shoe boxes, plastic containers, mattresses, cardboard boxes full of tins, broken cardboard boxes spilling out tins and jars half full of stagnant green water, crawling
with larvae. Smashed TV sets, broken stereos, old ghetto blasters, plastic bags of vinyl records. You name an article of rubbish that had been thrown out in a street clean-up or dumped on the side of the road and something similar was in there, rusting or rotting away.

Lord have mercy, thought Les. Where do I start? He checked the room facing the street and could perceive no sign of life. Well, I suppose I’d better start by getting my gloves. Les walked back to the car and got a pair of cheap all-purpose leather gloves from the boot. He put them on and adjusted his cap then, just as it began to rain, started searching through the rubbish.

Les was groping around in the filth and stench, dodging cockroaches and millipedes and other horrible crawling bugs and cursing his luck when he uncovered it. Beneath a pile of rotting tea towels. A green handbag with a…dinosaur on the side.

‘Ahhh shit!’ cursed Les, tossing the empty bag aside.

Filth and grime clinging to his rain soaked clothes and trainers, Les searched on amongst the sodden piles of rubbish. A trickle of cold water ran down his neck and he was seriously thinking of giving the whole idea a miss and telling Deep Throat what to do with his
instructions the next time he called. Rummaging away, Les knelt down to upend a pile of rotting underlay and a roll of filthy grey carpet when he sensed movement behind him. Next thing, he felt a sharp pain as someone hit him across the head with something.

‘What the fuck!’

Les turned and looked up at a grim, hatchet-faced old woman wearing a plastic raincoat and a blue scarf over her head. She was holding a black plastic garden rake above her which she viciously banged down across his head again.