Thrill City
PRAISE FOR
PEEPSHOW
‘
Peepshow
is a triumph . . . Stripping with irony, all bundled up into a ripping crime novel! I can’t wait for more.’
—
Stiletto Magazine
‘With
Peepshow
, Redhead announces herself as the bright new kid on the crime block.’—
Sydney Morning Herald
‘Witty, quite brilliant first novel.’—
Weekend Australian
‘A wonderful debut.’—
NW Magazine
‘Redhead has created a true original.’—
Daily Examiner
‘Tarts with hearts are always winners.’—
Sunday Times
PRAISE FOR
RUBDOWN
‘The best Australian crime novel this year has been Leigh Redhead’s
Rubdown
.’—
Weekend Australian
‘Leigh Redhead offers a flute of refreshing bubbles in
Rubdown
.’—
Spectrum
‘
Rubdown
is a criminally witty romp on the sexy side of the mean streets.’—
Australian Book Review
‘Redhead announced herself as the bright new kid on the crime block, less shabby chic than tart noir.’
—
Sydney Morning Herald
‘Robust, good natured and enjoyable thriller. Who needs imports like Evanovich when there’s a Redhead in St Kilda?’—
The Age
Review
PRAISE FOR
CHERRY PIE
‘Like a literary striptease, the plot is revealed little by little, just enough to keep the reader engrossed.’—
Sun Herald
‘
Cherry Pie
should come with a series of warnings. Do not read this book if you have led a sheltered life and plan to keep it that way . . . Do not, under any circumstances, read this book in public, while eating or drinking, as you may splutter with laughter and embarrass yourself.’—
Sydney Morning Herald
‘Reckless and easily riled, full of sass and spirit, Simone has a sharp eye and smart mouth, and her wry world view infuses these books with a kind of wisecracking tone that will be welcome and familiar to readers of Sue Grafton or Janet Evanovich—although Redhead’s books can be a lot sexier.’—
The Age
‘
Cherry Pie
unfolds an intriguing story, full of twists and turns you don’t see coming, all underpinned by a great sense of humour.’
—
Sisters in Crime
L
EIGH
R
EDHEAD
’s first novel,
Peepshow
, burst onto the crime scene introducing PI Simone Kirsch to readers. Simone made her next appearance in
Rubdown
, followed by
Cherry Pie
and now
Thrill City
, Leigh’s fourth crime novel.
thrill city
LEIGH REDHEAD
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First published in 2010
Copyright © Leigh Redhead 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian
Copyright Act 1968
(the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218
Email: [email protected]
Web:
www.allenandunwin.com
Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available
from the National Library of Australia
www.librariesaustralia.nla.gov.au
ISBN 978 1 74114 737 7
Set in 11.5/14 pt Bembo by Bookhouse, Sydney
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Michael Lynch—A boy as beautiful as you
shouldn’t be buying his own drinks
Contents
‘I
need to pee.’ Kate crossed her legs and squirmed, pulling the bottom strap of her seatbelt away from her lower abdomen.
Jeremy kept his eyes on the road and his hands tight on the steering wheel.
They were on their way from Melbourne to Daylesford and the countryside had changed from parched fields to swelling hills dotted with giant boulders and small scrubby trees. Soon there would be forest. She couldn’t wait. It had been so long since they’d had a weekend away, and they wouldn’t even be here now if it hadn’t been for that horrible argument after Carl’s barbecue. At least something good had come out of it, because now they were headed for forests, lakes and country cottages, cherry-hued pinot noirs and exotic, washed rind, handcrafted cheeses. Proper forests, too. Birches and spruce and maple and pine.
She felt vaguely unpatriotic preferring European trees, but the Australian bush was so coarse and prickly and such a washed-out khaki colour that it made her mouth dry just thinking about it. She wanted deep lush greens and rich mahoganies, and fields of grass as soft and verdant as billiard table felt. She wasn’t sure why. She’d only been to the UK and Europe once, as a backpacker, fifteen years ago. Perhaps it was a collective, Anglo-Saxon, unconscious thing?
Pain spiked up her urethra like hot wire. She pressed her thighs together. ‘Jeremy, I
really
need to pee.’
He glanced at her, irritated. It seemed to be his default setting these days. When had he changed? They’d been together for seven years, married for three. Was it after the wedding? Or since they’d bought the house? She’d been so excited to own a home at first, but now it loomed over them like a money sucking monster, an insatiable demon demanding to be fed. No holidays away, no bottles of French champagne, definitely no all-night benders like they used to go on—lots of booze, the occasional pill or line of coke if they were feeling particularly naughty. Definitely no crazy sex in hotel rooms till way past dawn. They only had sex about once a month now anyway. He was fixated on having a baby, not that they could afford it, and only wanted to do it when she was ovulating. How the hell was she supposed to know when she was ovulating? It wasn’t like you could feel the egg pop out of the fallopian tube.
‘Jeremy.’
‘We’re almost there.’ His receding brown hair fluttered in the air-conditioner’s updraft. ‘Twenty, thirty minutes, tops. Just hang on.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Fuck’s sake, it’s not even a two hour drive. Didn’t you go before we left?’
‘Of course. But I’ve drunk a litre and a half of water since then.’ She kicked at the empty plastic bottle rolling around in the foot-well.
‘What the hell for?’
‘They say you have to drink at least four litres a day. Not counting coffee and alcohol.’
‘Who’s they?’
‘I don’t know. Experts.’
‘I thought it was six glasses.’
‘That was in the eighties. It keeps going up. It was two litres in the nineties and now it’s four.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Look.’ She pointed as they whizzed past a green metal road sign. ‘Turnoff for Castlemaine. Eight kilometres. There’s a sign for a public toilet.’
‘I am not going sixteen k’s out of our way.’
‘Then I’ll wee on the seat.’
Jeremy abruptly hit the brakes and jerked the steering wheel so that the hatchback swerved onto the shoulder, crunching gravel and spitting up dust. The sudden inertia woke their labrador, Charlie, who gave a whiny yawn, stretched, and stuck his head in the gap between the seats. Kate smelled his hot, meaty breath and felt his tongue slobber affectionately over her ear. She reached back, hooked her fingers under his collar and rubbed his thick fur. Jeremy stared at her.
‘Well, you going?’
‘Not here.’
‘What?’
‘People driving by will see me.’
‘You’ll be sheltered by the car, and the open door.’
‘Not sheltered enough. Anyone driving south will be able to see my bum sticking out from underneath.’
‘They won’t know it’s
your
bum.’
She crossed her arms and looked straight ahead.
‘Fuck.’ Jeremy slapped the indicator, pulled out and turned off at the next laneway, driving fifty metres until they were out of sight of the main road. The landscape had become more densely forested and he stopped the car beside a sagging wire fence, beyond which there was a patch of grassland, then a plantation of mature pines. Charlie was agitated, whining and scrabbling about in the back seat.
‘Don’t let the dog out,’ Jeremy warned, so Kate held the door open just a fraction of a second too long and Charlie slithered through even as Jeremy was making a grab for his collar. He ran straight through a gap in the wire and bounded off, floppy eared and delighted. Kate suppressed a smile, shrugged and followed the dog into the grove.